TABLE 8.1
THE SHIFTING RELIGIOUS BALANCE
IN THE ROMAN EMPIRE C.470–650
470–518 Dominance of Monophysite or near-Monophysite imperial regimes
480–550 Emergence of separate Nestorian church
510–600 Emergence of separate Monophysite churches
518–630 Strong imperial enforcement of Chalcedonian order
630–50 Collapse of Roman Christian rule over Egypt and Near East
Although the imperial regime could never admit the fact, the Christian world was by 600 divided into several great transnational churches, each with its own claims to absolute truth. This was an ugly reality for those who idealized the church as the seamless, united body of Christ. As long as Roman and Christian rule lasted over Egypt and the East, the empire would never find a workable solution to the theological crisis. Two into one would never go.5
Chalcedon’s Enemies
Chalcedon survived because it developed deep roots in a number of crucial and well-organized centers, which held both prestige and active political power. Chalcedonian beliefs were strong in Asia Minor and the Balkans, the core territories of empire, and in Constantinople itself. They also prevailed in the Western provinces. Rome, throughout, was a solid bastion of support. Monasteries housed some of the most devoted supporters of official orthodoxy.6
But Chalcedon continued to offend large sections of the Eastern empire. By the sixth century, anti-Chalcedonian views were already the norm in large sections of the Eastern Christian world, where debate raged between different factions of the One Nature cause, between Miaphysites and hard-core Eutychians. Chalcedonian bishops were likely to find themselves purged or hounded from office. Even when the bishops remained true to Chalcedon, dissident lower clergy and monks maintained their own faith, and some won supporters by their asceticism and holy lives and tales of their miracles. One Monophysite hero was the saintly monk and bishop Peter the Iberian, who traveled widely in Palestine and neighboring lands. He consecrated clergy and taught believers, “while others he enlightened and brought into the fold of the orthodox [anti-Chalcedonian] Church.”7
Egypt, of course, showed not the slightest willingness to forgive or forget. The patriarchate remained badly divided, with overlapping and competing jurisdictions prevailing from 451 through 482. Although the detailed succession does not matter immensely, Table 8.2 suggests the degree of chaos in the city.
Timothy the Weasel had built a firm foundation for a Coptic church that could survive imperial hostility. From 477, the church was again divided between Coptic and Chalcedonian factions, with the Copts led by Peter Mongus, the Stammerer, Timothy’s former deacon. Peter was utterly uncompromising, to the point of ordering the desecration of the tombs of his Chalcedonian predecessors.8
In the official History of the Patriarchs of the Coptic Church of Alexandria, complaints about Chalcedon become so frequent a part of the text that they become almost the obligatory introduction to the life of each new incumbent:
But the empire of the Romans remained established upon the ever-renewed memory of the impure council of Chalcedon; for it was not built upon the foundation of the firm Rock, which belongs to God the Word who is Jesus Christ.9
TABLE 8.2
THE PATRIARCHATE OF
ALEXANDRIA AFTER CHALCEDON
Proterius
Chalcedonian
451–57
murdered
Timothy Aelurus
anti-Chalcedon
454–60
expelled
Timothy II Salofakiolos
Chalcedonian
460–75
expelled
Timothy Aelurus, restored
anti-Chalcedon
475–77
died in office
Peter III Mongus
anti-Chalcedon
477
expelled
Timothy II, restored
Chalcedonian
477–82
died in office
John I
Chalcedonian
482
expelled
Peter III Mongus, restored
anti-Chalcedon
482–90
died in office
We read casually that one individual was “a Roman, and a blasphemous Chalcedonian.”10 By the mid-eighth century, with Egypt under the firm rule of Muslim Arabs, one would have thought that the church would have more urgent problems to confront, but ancient hatreds still rankled:
The patriarch, Abba Michael, assembled his bishops, and wrote a letter…giving an account of the foundation of the church of the martyr, Saint Mennas, and of the troubles and banishments endured by our fathers, the patriarchs, at the hands of the Chalcedonians, and of the taking of the churches from them by the hands of the princes of the Romans.11
In any theological struggle, the first thousand years are always the bitterest.
Egypt mattered immensely in its own right, but Egyptian beliefs also spread to the neighboring kingdoms that looked to Alexandria as their spiritual capital. The old-established churches of Nubia and Ethiopia were also Monophysite and long remained so—the Nubians until the death of that church in the late Middle Ages, and the Ethiopians up to the present day. The Ethiopian church still boasts the title of Tawahedo—Oneness.12
But One Nature views spread far beyond Egypt’s cultural sphere. Although Syria had once been the heartland of Antiochene Two Nature theology, a strong Monophysite party emerged during the struggles following Chalcedon. In 469, one Peter the Fuller mobilized the urban crowd against the Chalcedonian patriarch of Antioch and successfully replaced him. As patriarch, he ruled as an aggressive Monophysite, who was spiritual godfather to generations of later clergy. He also devised what became a common litmus test of religious loyalty when he changed the Thrice Holy to declare that the one Holy God “was crucified for us” (ho staurotheis di hemas). Although twice ejected from his diocese, he left a permanent Monophysite stamp on Antioch. This change revolutionized the empire’s political geography.13
The doctrinal shift became even stronger after 500 or so, and its effects endured for centuries. To be a Chalcedonian in Syria soon was to be stigmatized as a heretic, as much a deviant and traitor as one would be in Alexandria. Monophysite historian John of Ephesus tells how one Flavian was patriarch of Antioch in the early sixth century, but “being convicted of the heresy of the two natures”—that is, a Chalcedonian—he was deposed. A later anti-Monophysite incumbent “was proved to be a Nestorian, and was also ejected and expelled.” The conversion of Antioch was so important because of the extraordinarily wide connections of that city. In the first century, Antioch was the chief base for Christian expansion in the east; four hundred years later, it reprised this role in the Monophysite cause.14
But even mapping the very large dissident areas of the Near East does not give a full picture of the degree of religious unrest. Constantinople itself was divided, and struggles between the Green and Blue circus factions were at their height in the early sixth century. Just how potentially deadly these Gangs of New Rome actually were became obvious in 532, when the two sides briefly made common cause in a riotous insurgency that threatened the survival of the regime. Thousands were killed before order was restored.15
Monophysite Empire
The continuing Jesus Wars gave nightmares to every succeeding emperor. Several incumbents tried to come up with compromise solutions to bring all sides together, and like the Monotheletes of the seventh century, all would fail. The basic problem was straightforward. The empire could suppress heresies and had done so effectively enough in the past. But matters became much more difficult when a heresy was so widespread as to be the normal Christian attitude in large areas of the empire and, moreover, in wealthy and populous areas essential to keeping the state going.16
The gravest threat to the new order followed a coup in 475. The general Basiliscus rose against Zeno, temporarily driving him into exile and establishi
ng himself on the emperor’s throne. As so often in this century, the political struggle was a family spat. By profession, Basiliscus was a brother-in-law, and not a shining example of the breed. He had no military talents to speak of, and his greatest achievement to date was losing most of a Roman fleet in a futile attack on Carthage. It is a matter of debate whether the disaster resulted from his epic incompetence or from the fact that he was taking bribes from his enemy, Gaiseric. But whatever the truth, he was the brother-in-law of the previous emperor Leo, and his niece was Zeno’s queen, and that made him a player in the imperial succession. (See Table 8.3.)
TABLE 8.3
ROMAN EMPERORS IN THE EAST
(SOLE EMPERORS AFTER 476)
Leo I 457–74
Zeno 474–91
(Basiliscus 475–76, usurper)
Anastasius 491–518
Justin I 518–27
Justinian 527–65
Justin II 565–78
Tiberius II 578–82
Maurice 582–602
Phokas 602–10
Heraclius 610–41
Constans II 641–68
Constantine IV 668–85
NOTE: This table omits short-lived emperors, and most pretenders.
Basiliscus attempted a Monophysite counterrevolution. On Leo’s death in 474, Alexandrian monks had rushed to Constantinople to demand a repudiation of Chalcedon, and they found sympathetic ears in the new usurper. Basiliscus restored Monophysite-inclined patriarchs, including Peter the Fuller and Timothy the Weasel, while Constantinople’s patriarch Acacius was leaning toward their positions. Basiliscus then addressed to Timothy a sweeping general letter. This encyclical condemned “the proceedings that have disturbed the unity and order of the holy churches of God, and the peace of the whole world, that is to say, the so-called Tome of Leo, and all things said and done at Chalcedon in violation of the holy symbol of Nicea.” These horrible documents were to be repudiated and anathematized, and all records of them burnt. Instead, the councils of Nicea and First Ephesus were to be regarded as the final and decisive statements of doctrine.17
Every bishop in the empire had to sign on to the encyclical, and a very large number did so. Possibly they were suffering from Vicar of Bray syndrome, the urge to keep their jobs at whatever cost. Most later claimed that they has subscribed “not designedly but of necessity, having agreed to these matters with letters and words, not with the heart.” But the mass defection indicates just how fragile was the settlement achieved at Chalcedon. The patriarch of Jerusalem signed, and so did five hundred other bishops—rather more, in fact, than the number who had affirmed Chalcedon in 451. If Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem were now all controlled by Monophysites, what exactly was the church’s consensus position on the nature of Christ?18
Once again, the Egyptian empire threatened to extend its reach to the palace in Constantinople. The Weasel now acted as if he were the de facto religious head of the empire, consecrating and restoring like-minded believers. He unilaterally restored the patriarchate of Ephesus, appointing his own man to the post. He even presided over yet another council at Ephesus, at which Asian bishops offered full support to Basiliscus’s declaration. They threatened that if anyone tried to change what he was proposing, “the whole world will be turned upside down, and the evils which have proceeded from the synod at Chalcedon will be found trifling in comparison, notwithstanding the innumerable slaughters which they have caused, and the blood of the orthodox which they have unjustly and lawlessly shed.”19
But the religious reaction proved short-lived, as Timothy’s arrogant behavior angered so many other bishops—had Egyptians learned nothing from 449? After some wavering, Constantinople’s patriarch, Acacius, now became a strong voice for Chalcedonian orthodoxy. Preparing to confront the emperor, he gathered the most powerful ammunition he could find, in the form of the renowned spiritual athlete, Daniel the Stylite. As the events of 431 had shown, nothing intimidated a pious emperor more than a bona fide saint and miracle worker. Acacius induced Daniel to leave the pillar on which he had lived these many years, entering the world only to prophesy, heal, and exorcize, and persuaded him to oppose the new encyclical. Daniel’s appearance before Basiliscus constituted a kind of religious terrorism that the emperor absolutely had to heed (en route to the palace, Daniel broke his journey just long enough to heal a leper). Basiliscus issued a fulsome apology, while the Constantinople mob rejoiced, shouting “The Emperor is orthodox! Burn alive the enemies of orthodoxy!” Meanwhile, Basiliscus and Acacius “lay prostrate on the ground at the holy man’s [Daniel’s] feet.” Basiliscus now issued a new encyclical reversing the first, a kind of un-encyclical, but it was too late to soothe his enemies. Zeno seized power once again in 476, killing his rival. He kept his promise not to shed the blood of Basiliscus or his family, but that did not stop him from starving them to death.20
So lethally were Zeno and Basiliscus at each other’s throats that neither could spare time to preserve the Western empire, notionally based in Rome, which quietly wound up in the ominous year of 476. And so fascinated were the contemporary historians with the religious struggles that they paid almost incidental attention to this event in the distant marches of empire. Defending or repealing Chalcedon was a matter of vital political significance, unlike the termination of an imperial tradition that dated to the time of Augustus. Historians have to know their priorities.
But, in fact, terminating the Western empire did have its religious consequences, as Roman power in the West now ceased to function outside parts of Italy. By 476, Gaiseric’s Vandal regime still ruled North Africa, the Visigoths had created a mighty kingdom in Gaul and Spain, while other barbarians dominated Italy. All these regimes were proudly Arian and stood aloof from either the Roman state or the Catholic Church. Vandal Arians persecuted Catholics, forcibly rebaptizing them into that church.21 Glancing at a map of shifting frontiers told any Roman emperor that the regions he had to appease in order to rule were overwhelmingly in the eastern Mediterranean. If Gaul, Africa, and Spain had slipped off the political map, Egypt now mattered more than ever. Bringing Eastern Monophysites into the fold mattered far more than keeping Western Catholics happy.
This new calculation gave a critical new priority to winning over the Monophysites, especially in Egypt. In 482, Zeno tried to settle the knotty dispute once and for all. His Henoticon, or act of union, reasserted the creed as laid out at Nicea and First Ephesus. It repeated condemnations of both Nestorius and Eutyches, while reissuing Cyril’s Anathemas. More controversially, Zeno’s document tried to reach a christological statement that would offend neither side, avoiding the poisoned words nature and person. Its only reference to Chalcedon was in passing, and almost insulting:
every one who has held or holds any other opinion, either at the present or another time, whether at Chalcedon or in any synod whatever, we anathematize; and specially the before-mentioned Nestorius and Eutyches, and those who maintain their doctrines.22
The Henoticon was a statesmanlike attempt at theological compromise, and it won early successes. Whatever they thought about the One Nature or Two Natures, some were “caught by the artful composition of that document; and others influenced by an inclination for peace.” In 482, even Alexandrian diehard Monophysite Peter Mongus agreed to compromise enough to sign the document. Incredibly, given recent conflicts, Peter was now in communion with Constantinople.23
Of course, the compromise did not satisfy everyone. Extreme Monophysites who deserted the Coptic patriarchs became the anarchistic acephali, the “headless ones,” who rejected both emperors and bishops, and they remained a faction on the far fringes of belief for centuries afterward. Much more serious were the effects of the Henoticon on the followers of Chalcedon. When Peter Mongus signed on, his Chalcedonian rival in Alexandria begged the Roman pope to rescue orthodoxy in the East. The Pope responded by excommunicating not just Peter but also Acacius of Constantinople. Ensuring maximum visibility, Chalcedonian monks actually pinn
ed the sentence to Acacius’s robes while he was celebrating the Eucharist. This affair represented a degree of division among the churches at least as bad as anything witnessed in the year or two between Second Ephesus and Chalcedon, and the crisis lasted much longer. From 484 to 519, this Acacian schism divided the Eastern and Western churches, leaving the Roman popes out in the cold and subject to the direct rule of the Arian Goths. When in the 490s another patriarch of Constantinople tried to patch up the quarrel and reaffirm Chalcedon, the emperor first contemplated assassinating him but settled for deposing him as a Nestorian.24
Isolated from all the major Eastern churches, the popes grew ever more pessimistic about the chance of regaining influence. One token of their desperation was the increasingly extreme claims they made for their own powers, claims that they would scarcely have dared make if they had been closer to political realities. In 494, Pope Gelasius wrote an extraordinary letter expressing what would become known as Two Sword theory. Christ had spoken of two swords, which Gelasius read as two powers ruling the world, priestly and royal. As the pope lectured the emperor, religious power always took precedence over the secular, so that kings ruled at the pleasure of priests and, specifically, popes. In later centuries, this letter would gain immense weight as the charter of papal power over the secular realm, suggesting once more how the fifth-century crisis served as the foundation of the medieval Western church. Between 1070 and 1320, the doctrine would allow popes to depose several emperors and kings and to force many more into groveling submission. In the 490s, though, the extraordinary nature of the political claims merely indicated how far removed Rome was from any realistic prospect of power or influence at the imperial court. Gelasian doctrine looked not so much far-sighted as delusional.25
The empire remained in greenish hands for decades to come, as the Henoticon gave the Monophysites enough of what they demanded, while infuriating the Catholics. Zeno’s successor Anastasius (491–518) was theologically sophisticated enough in his own right to have been a candidate for the patriarchate of Antioch. (The alternative career path points to the very thin line separating church from state in this era.) But while he personally held Monophysite opinions, he disliked persecution or unrest. Accordingly, he tried to operate a moderate policy balancing the two factions, purging or exiling only the egregious troublemakers who violated what we might call prevailing community standards. He only removed those bishops who were “promoters of change, wherever he detected any one either proclaiming or anathematizing the synod of Chalcedon in opposition to the practice of the neighborhood.” In contemporary eyes, of course, moderation implied dangerous heretical leanings. Orthodox mythology claimed he was a secret Manichaean, one of those who denied Christ’s material reality.26
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