Councils of Faith: Constantinople III (680-681)

Those who find that the Church uses highly complicated theological words to define her dogmas might not know much about the events that led to those terms. Passionate and often violent councils led to the definitions of the articles of the Catholic faith. Many reasons led to those councils and there were not always religious but often political.

The Church having asserted two natures in Christ (human and divine) in its first five ecumenical councils, one would obviously have expected the discussion to go further, especially trying to understand how both natures work in one person. The Church had been divided, many churches remaining monophysites. The main cause was of course the disagreement with the doctrine of two natures in Christ but also political issues. It had become obvious that the Roman Empire was losing territories in the East. That is why Sergius, Patriarch of Constantinople, with the approval of Emperor Heraclius I, introduced monothelitism in order to reunify the Church. Monothelitism affirmed the two natures of Christ but also professed one will (thelema in Greek) and one activity (or operation). Although monothelitism succeeded to bring a few monophysites back to the Church, it was rejected by many theologians, including Sophronius of Jerusalem. It was unthinkable to them to say that the divine and human natures of Christ had a same activity. Sergius, convinced by that approach, abandoned the idea of one activity and expressed that by promulgating a decree, Psephos, which forbade all Christians to mention ‘the number’ of Jesus’s activities.

Honorius the First accepts the Psephosbut keeps the idea of one will in Christ and writes it in the Ecthesis in 638, confirming the Psephos and stressed his belief in a unique activity of Christ. Much later, in 648, Constans II abolishes the Ecthesis and promulgates the Typus. He intended to stop the debate but carries on being a monothelite quietly. In the end, in 678 Constantin IV calls for an Ecumenical Council to put an end to a strong division between the churches in the East and those in the West.

The Council lasted for two years (680-681) having taken two more years to start after it had been summoned. Papal legates and bishops gathered at Constantinople and studied the Holy Scripture and the texts of the fathers of the Church, trying to understand the whole question of will and activity in Christ. The Council fathers adopted the theory that affirmed that there are two wills and two activities in Christ. Among them was the Patriarch of Constantinople. In the last paragraphs of the Acts, one can read: “And we proclaim equally two natural volitions or wills in him and two natural principles of action which undergo no division, no change, no partition, no confusion, in accordance with the teaching of the holy fathers”. Their greatest opponent became Macarius of Antioch who was later anathematised together with all those who previously had held the monothelite view. Pope Honorius the First was also condemned for not having condemned but supported monothelitism. Although Agatho was Pope when the Council convened, at its end Pope Leo II had succeeded him and it was to him that the council fathers sent a letter for the confirmation of the Acts.

The Council of Constantinople III might be the one that could confuse us very much as it condemned a thought that intended to reunify the divided Church. But at the same time, one should understand the need of a sound doctrine. And, although the influence of politics in the Church's vital decrees cannot be denied, one could hardly also reject the good will and the honesty of the Councils’ fathers who kept the true doctrine in those councils even when they were not the most powerful or influential. It would thus be unchristian to doubt the work of the Holy Spirit in those councils.

What I did in the summer...La Route Dominicaine

Walking long distances is a very Dominican activity. St Dominic walked countless miles preaching the Gospel in southern France and northern Italy in the earliest days of the Order.

Later that century, St Albert the Great, as Provincial of Teutonia then Bishop of Regensburg, had such a job visiting his priories and parishes that he earned the nickname 'The Boot'. It was to send a clear signal of evangelical poverty that these early Dominicans refused to ride horses. Just as Jesus sent out the first disciples on foot, so do we poor preachers follow in their footsteps. We still don't ride horses! Now, while modern transportation has of course become indispensable, we must always strive for a prudent poverty and simplicity of lifestyle, suitably to adorn our preaching of spiritual riches. And so, occasionally, it is good to get back to basics, and leave behind the settled comforts of community or family life.

That is why I jumped at the opportunity in the summer to go on a Dominican pilgrimage in France. It was in fact the third such pilgrimage, called La Route Dominicaine, organised by brothers of the Province of France. We walked between two monasteries of Dominican nuns, from Chalais on the massif de la Charteuse to Langeac in the Auvergne, a total distance of almost 300km, thus completing the triangle of earlier hikes from Langeac via Taulignan to Chalais in 2007 and 2009.

There were fourteen walking days, with two rest days on the way, so that we arrived at Langeac in time to celebrate St Dominic's feast (8 August) with the nuns. We received perfect hospitality along the way, in parish halls and a wide array of communities, including Dominican nuns, Dominican apostolic sisters, Trappist nuns, L'Arche, Augustinian canons, Jesuits, a Foyer de Charité, and an ancient Marian sanctuary.

It was providential that so many great religious sites and communities lay on the route. From Notre Dame d'Ay to the great Puy-en-Velay, a popular starting point for the Camino to Compostela, we witnessed the deep Christian heritage of France, the 'eldest daughter of the Church'.

The basically Francophone group comprised four Dominican brothers (two priests, a deacon and me), a Dominican laywoman, and seven other young Catholics. There was only one other Englishman, and he is now a novice in our Province.

One of the highlights was our cooking an English roast for the group, with very meagre materials and ingredients: we thought it was something of a disaster, but everyone else gushed about these amusing but delicious things called Yorkshire puddings!

Imaginative French cuisine, too, mitigated the austerities of our very limited budget. But cooking was just one aspect of the wonderful camaraderie we shared on pilgrimage. Jokes, stories, poems, walking songs, religious songs – all these contributed to a lively ethos.

This was aided by beautiful weather – we had only one day of heavy rain, though that was quite refreshing after temperatures had risen to 40°C! We were able to celebrate God's creation even as we toiled along boiling tarmac in the Isère or trudged up mountains in the Ardèche. Indeed, blisters and muscle aches seem to be an inevitable part of the spiritual purification to which all pilgrimages lead.

We prayed the Liturgy of the Hours en route. I had never yet experienced the combination of beautiful canticles and breathtaking landscapes; and now I will never forget it. 'And you, mountains and hills, O bless the Lord...To him be highest glory and praise for ever!' (Dan. 3:75) We celebrated daily Mass either with our various hosts or along the way, so there was no lack of Dominican preaching.

In addition, we were encouraged to dedicate each day of walking to a particular intention of our choice. In the afternoons, we often paused for a time of reflection and partage on the great themes of the Christian life. We talked about poverty, wayfaring, prayer (including Dominic's nine ways), suffering, reconciliation, the Bible, preaching, prophecy, Mary, and the manifold ways in which the Holy Trinity guides us, sustains us, and loves us along our life's journey. As if to exemplify this, at many turns we encountered strangers and other wayfarers – the friendly, the intrigued, and the one or two sadly hostile – many of whom were inspired by our youthful and unobtrusive witness to Christ.

Friendship, fraternity, gratitude and joy, plus physical exhaustion and the vain hope for an easier path just over the next summit(!) – these are surely images of the Christian life. For me, this pilgrimage concretely expressed the fact that the Dominican way of following Christ is a harmonisation of activity (walking and preaching) with contemplation (prayer and liturgy). 

In the end, we resumed our normal lives, in the home, the community and the workplace; but I think we will all have found something in us was different. I hope, for my part, that this pilgrimage has helped me become just a little bit better at following in the footsteps of Christ, and his faithful preacher, St Dominic.

Councils of Faith: Constantinople II (553)

In our previous article on Faith Councils we read of the famous Council of Chalcedon which issued the ‘Chalcedonian Definition’, repudiating the notion of a single nature in Christ, and defining that he has two natures in one person or hypostasis; it also insisted on the completeness of his two natures, that is Godhead and manhood. However, the result of this definition was not peace and concord; the reality was a major schism and another century of theological and political wrangling.

In 553AD the Second Council of Constantinople, or Fifth Ecumenical Council, was convoked by the Byzantine Emperor Justinian I under the presidency of Patriarch Eutychius of Constantinople. The main purpose of the Council was to uphold that promulgated by Chalcedon and to reconcile the Monophysites with the Orthodox. The Monophysites were significant in number and held to a belief that Jesus Christ, the Incarnation of the Word, had only a single nature, that of the divine or a synthesis between human and divine. They in turn feared that the definition of Chalcedon, and thus the direction of the Church, was not sufficiently opposed to the heresy of Nestorius (c.381-451), a former Bishop of Constantinople. Nestorianism, although condemned as heresy, was a significant current in the Church at this time and was centred strongly on the belief against any ‘mixing’ of the human and divine natures in Christ. In distinguishing so strongly between the human and divine the Nestorians could not accept the unity of natures in the person of Christ. The Nestorians also believed that the Virgin Mary could not be called the Mother of God , in Greek theotokos, but only the mother of Christ or Christotokos, though this had been condemned at the earlier Council of Ephesus in 431. 

Justinian hoped that by outrightly condemning Nestorianism and its adherent’s, reconciliation could be brokered. This was no easy task and political infighting and even the imprisonment and virtual excommunication of the Pope, Vigilius, did not help matters run smoothly. However, following Vigilius’s release, the Council first sought to condemn the ‘Three Chapters’; these were both the person and writings of Theodore of Mopsuestia (d. 428), the attacks on Cyril of Alexandria and the First Council of Ephesus written by Theodoret of Cyrrhus (d. c. 466), and the attacks on Cyril and Ephesus by Ibas of Edessa (d. 457). All were believed to profess Nestorianism. Preceding these condemnations, ten dogmatic canons were promulgated that sought to define the Christology of Chalcedon with greater clarity. Emphasis was given to the Word as one subject of all the operations of Christ, both human and divine. The single person of Christ, the Son and second person of the Trinity, was said to emphatically possess two natures: human and divine. Furthermore, the role of the Virgin Mary as theotokos was reemphasized. “If anyone says that the holy, glorious, and ever-virgin Mary is called God-bearer by misuse of language and not truly, or by analogy, believing that only a mere man was born of her and that God the Word was not incarnate of her… let him be anathema” (Anathemas of the Second Council of Constantinople).

Despite the theological precision employed by the Council, a clarity that would provide the basis for further Christological investigation in the Byzantine period, the results of the Council were not immediately fruitful. Further Monophysite heresy would abound in the century to follow and the full reconciliation hoped for between the Chalcedonians and Non-Chalcedonians would not obtain. However, one cannot underestimate the importance of the Church facing such controversy head-on; the pursuit of unity and the Truth have never been easy.

What I did in the Summer.....France

Every summer the student brothers here at Blackfriars  are dispatched from Oxford to go and do something useful at another Dominican Priory. Usually this means some kind of pastoral placement, for example some time spent working in a prison, or a hospital,  or a university chaplaincy and so on. In my case this  year it meant spending some time with our French brothers in Lille on a language placement. 

Kipling once proclaimed: 'what should they know of England, who only England know?' I am always  reminded of this when I  get the opportunity to visit Dominican houses outside of the English Province. One can often gain a new perspective on one's own practices and traditions when one sees the same charism expressed in another culture and ecclesial context. I always find this a useful reminder of the spaciousness of  the Dominican vocation. At its heart is a call to preach the gospel: when it comes to undertaking this mission there is much scope for creativity.

The French expression of the Dominican charism has been a powerful one in recent centuries.  French Friars were at the heart of the Order's revival in the nineteenth century and their theologians had an enormous influence on the second Vatican council. It was fascinating to see close up the life of a Province which has such a rich tradition and history.

Dies Irae – Requiem Mass Sequence

November is traditionally the month of the dead. In our private prayers and public liturgy, this is the time when we remember especially those who have gone to the Lord. We believe their passing is not a final alienation from us, but an inevitable stage on their journey to God. We miss them and mourn for them, but we are still united with them in spirit and prayer. After all, the Church is the one Body of Christ, in which all the living are bonded together, both we who remain on earth and those who 'have gone before us marked with the sign of faith' (Roman Canon). As Jesus teaches:

'They are the children of God, being the children of the resurrection. Now that the dead are raised, even Moses showed at the burning bush, when he called the Lord the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob. For he is not a God of the dead, but of the living: for all live unto him.'

Fittingly for November, then, the Oxford University Philharmonia (in which I play 1st flute) will be performing Verdi's Requiem next week at the Sheldonian Theatre, Oxford. Details are on the poster below.

In Verdi's great work, the Sequence (Dies Irae, or 'Day of Wrath') is a musically elaborate and emotionally overwhelming movement lasting more than half an hour. In its original plainsong version, however, the Sequence is musically restrained yet loses none of its plaintive passion for God's mercy. Here is our recording of the chant:

I will be giving a short pre-concert talk about Verdi's Requiem, explaining some musical, historical and theological notes. All are welcome to hear it at 5.30-6pm, Wednesday 21 November, in the Aula at Blackfriars, Oxford. I will recapitulate these themes in a later post on Godzdogz, for those who cannot join us on the day.

Councils of Faith: Chalcedon (451)

The ‘Christological Settlement’ promulgated by the Council of Chalcedon is one of the most decisive texts of Christian theology, serving as the point of reference for the resolution of all future Christological disputes. Chalcedon was principally attempting to respond to a new heretical view espoused by a certain Archimandrite from Constantinople called Eutyches, who proposed that in the incarnation the divine and human substances somehow became ‘mixed’ as a ‘tertium quid’ (a third thing), something more than human but less than divine. Chalcedon’s decree, however, effectively summarises the whole trajectory of Christological thought that developed through four centuries of sustained reflection on the Church’s faith and practice, as has has been reflected in the first three Ecumenical Councils.

The most famous portion of its decree declares that Jesus, the “Lord, Only-begotten, [is] recognised in two natures, without confusion, without change, without division, without separation”. Chalcedon, then, traces the contours of Christology on two axes: the first axis defines the presence of the two substances in the one person Jesus Christ, whilst the second defines that those two substances relate without one dominating or assuming the other, yet without confusion. Chalcedon, therefore, is a ringing endorsement of Ephesus’ affirmation of the hypostatic union, but clarifies that in the reality of the union there is no mixture or change in the natures, which always remain authentically human and divine.

 It might seem, however, a bit premature to call Chalcedon’s definition a ‘settlement’. After all, the adjectives it uses (unconfused, undivided, unchanged, unseparated) all say something about what Christ is not, rather than positively affirming a Christological model. Indeed, we might see Chalcedon as erecting four lines that mark the boundary between ‘orthodox’ and ‘heterodox’ Christology. If you stay within the lines, you can call yourself Christian; stray outside them, and you reject the fundamental principle of the faith. Here’s one I made earlier:

It seems to me that part of the attraction of the heresies excluded by Chalcedon’s decree is that we can think of them visually. If we were to take two blobs of plasticine, red for the divine nature and blue for the human, we could, more or less, create a model that adequately reflected the understandings of Jesus excluded by the lines of the Chalcedonian box. When it comes to modelling the space inside the lines traced by Chalcedon, we can’t even begin. So it is perhaps unsurprising that some have asked whether Chalcedon went too far. Is Christology even possible after Chalcedon, or has it effectively excluded every possible human model that we could propose to explain Jesus’s incarnation?

Of course, the incarnation is a mystery and a wonder of the faith, so we can’t expect to exhaust it by blobs of plasticine. But I don’t think that’s how the Council Fathers would have responded. Rather, I think they would have pointed out that we cannot divide the person of Jesus from his saving work. The reason the theologians of the first four centuries were so concerned to get their doctrine of Jesus right is because of what was at stake. As the great architect of Christology, St Athanasius, said, “that which Jesus did not assume he could not redeem”. If Christ in his divinity did not assume a real, full, and complete human nature, then he did not redeem it. If our Christology falls outside the lines of the Chalcedonian box, then we are undermining our salvation, and we might as well give up our practice of praying to Jesus, of offering the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and so on.

The definition of Chalcedon, like all the Church Councils so far covered in our series, attempts to give some conceptual clarity and plausibility to a very simple four word statement. Without being facile, Chalcedon is an effort to say of Jesus of Nazareth, “this man is God”, where each of those words is given its full force and weight.

What I Did in the Summer ... Placement in St Petersburg

At the beginning of July I was ordained deacon and, soon afterwards, I set out for my placement in a parish, which is quite a common place for deacons to be sent during the summer after their ordination. It’s not quite so common, though, for that parish to be in Russia, which is where I went, to our Dominican house and parish of St Catherine of Alexandria in St Petersburg. Why Russia? you might well ask. Wasn’t there somewhere in England I could have gone? Of course, I could have stayed in England, but I had studied Russian at university before I joined the Order and so asked the Student Master if I might be able to go to Russia to brush up my Russian and to get to know the brethren and their work in that country. He said yes, so off I went.

St Catherine’s is a busy church right in the centre of St Petersburg, attracting many visitors as well as a stable base of about 700 active parishioners: they comprise people from traditionally Catholic families (e.g. of Polish, Lithuanian, or German descent), as well as a substantial number of adult converts and quite a few foreigners working or studying in Russia’s ‘Northern capital’. With three Masses in the parish every day (more on Sundays, of course), and a homily at every one, there was plenty of work to go round the six members of the community, who also have various other projects and responsibilities.

One of the “new” things a deacon is able to do, as an ordained minister, is to preach at Mass, to which this placement was a very good introduction: by the end of my time in Russia, I was preaching four or five times a week: in English at the Sunday English Mass, and also for the Missionaries of Charity, whose multi-national communities use English as a common language, but then in Russian the rest of the time, which brought my Russian up to scratch pretty quickly! Preaching so often also revealed to me in a way I hadn’t really imagined, before having to do it, quite how much for a Dominican our prayer and study and preaching all relate to each other and draw on each other.

As well as preaching regularly, I took my turn being “on duty” in the church for people who wanted to talk to a friar, which gave me a small insight into the range of questions the parish clergy have to deal with, from the fairly practical business of arranging dates for Mass intentions to be said to very profound questions about people’s spiritual life.

Overall, I felt my placement gave me a good introduction to the “bread and butter” of life in a busy parish, to which, being a deacon, I was able to contribute in ways I hadn’t previously experienced. On top of that, of course, it gave me the opportunity to return to Russia and renew my acquaintance both with the language and culture and with the situation of the Catholic Church there. There is plenty of work for the Church and the Order in Russia, but, as in so many places, ‘the harvest is plentiful but the labourers are few,’ (Lk 10: 2) so please do keep the Dominican Order and its work in Russia in your prayers.

Councils of Faith: Ephesus I (431)

The dogmatic definition of the Holy Trinity in the Nicene Creed did not shut down debate in the Church, but enabled theologians to explore ever deeper the mystery of God. In particular, how was it possible for divinity and humanity to be reconciled in the one person, Jesus Christ?

Fifty years after Constantinople I, Christology was in confusion. Nestorius, formerly an abbot in Antioch and disciple of Theodore of Mopsuestia, had become Bishop of Constantinople in 428. A powerful orator with friends in high places, Nestorius promoted the view of the Antiochene school, that 'the Logos [Word of God] dwells in the man Jesus as in a temple'. He wanted to avoid 'foolish' statements, such as 'God was born of a Virgin' or 'God is two or three months old', which would seem to be the logical consequence of saying simply that Jesus is both God and man.

In particular, Nestorius zealously preached against the term Theotokos (God-bearer, Mother of God), a common title for the Virgin Mary in popular piety. Nestorius offered the less exalted Theodochos (Recipient of God) and Christotokos (Christ-bearer) as a compromise. But he was heavy-handed in excommunicating all who did not agree with his own teaching. This naturally aroused great controversy among the people as well as theologians.

It was Cyril, Bishop of Alexandria and rival to the Antiochenes, who championed an alternative view: Jesus is 'one incarnate nature of the divine Logos'. So, Cyril argued, the Logos [Word of God] truly was born, suffered and died – but as the Logos incarnate in Jesus – citing Scripture: 'the Logos was made flesh' (Jn. 1:14); and the Logos 'emptied himself' taking the 'form' of humanity (Phil. 2:5-11); without ever ceasing to be God. Cyril called this relation between divine and human nature the hypostatic union, meaning that Jesus is one subject, one subsistent reality who is both human and divine. Nestorius pounced on ambiguous references to 'one nature' to accuse Cyril of Christological monism or the heresy of Apollonarianism (a fusion, or syncrasis, of natures). The controversy was too heated to be left unsettled: while Cyril successfully appealed to Pope Celestine to condemn Nestorius in 430, the latter persuaded Emperor Theodosius II to call an ecumenical council at Ephesus, in Asia Minor, for a final resolution in the summer of 431.

Now the plot thickens: Cyril has received the Pope's delegated authority to condemn Nestorius, since the latter failed to recant. The Antiochene party, led by Bishop John of Antioch, is late to arrive at Ephesus (possibly deliberately); likewise the papal legates. Nestorius is here but hiding behind an imperial guard, for fear of the people. Cyril's faction grows impatient, partly because the heat is causing illness (some bishops even die). They begin the Council without delay, thrice summoning Nestorius (who does not turn up) and issuing twelve anathemas against him, calling him a 'new Judas'; in the evening the people rejoice with torches and incense in the streets. John's party arrives at last and sets up a rival council condemning Cyril and Memnon, the Ephesian prelate. Now the papal legates arrive, join Cyril's group, and confirm the judgment against Nestorius; John's party is also excommunicated, but not deposed from their sees.

But which is the true council? The emperor is consulted as arbiter. He rejects all the doctrinal decrees, saying the Nicene formula suffices, but accepts the depositions of the Cyril, Memnon and John! But the emperor is under pressure to accept Cyril's council as the true one: the papal legates carry great weight, lavish gifts from Alexandria are flooding the imperial court to counter Nestorius's influence, and the populace despises Nestorius. Facing defeat, Nestorius asks to return to his monastery in Antioch. The emperor confirms Cyril's council and the final seal is added by the new Pope, Sixtus III, in 432. Happily, John's party is reconciled to Cyril in 433 by the so-called 'Formula of Union', accepting the hypostatic union and the term Theotokos.

The historical process was messy (as always!), but the doctrinal result was clear: the Nestorian heresy did not do justice to the complete union of God and Man in Jesus. By contrast, Cyril's development of the Nicene formula was authentic and organic, in harmony with Scripture and Tradition as well as popular piety; even though it would leave many further Christological questions unanswered.

What I Did in the Summer ... Hospital Chaplaincy

Each year, student Dominicans do a summer Pastoral Placement, usually of around a month, and typically based in one of the other priories in our Province, sometimes sharing in the specialist ministry of one our friars. This summer I was based at the London Priory, and, along with some parish and local primary school experience, I spent most of my time engaged in hospital chaplaincy. I was working with Peter Harries OP who is the lead chaplain at University College London Hospital, and alongside the rest of the Catholic and ecumenical teams.

I spent my time visiting patients and reflecting on these visits with Peter and, to some extent, the other chaplains. It proved to be a varied and very rich experience. You never know as you go from bed to bed what situation you will encounter: a person who has just been told they are going home; one who has been told there is little or no chance of them ever going home; those whose spirits are up, those who are struggling; families and friends at bedsides who also need attention. Besides that, the hospital staff are worthy of attention. As well as all manner of sickness, and some recoveries, I was involved in about ten cases involving deaths.

Across this range of people and situations, I met some with a steady faith, some whose faith was ‘heroic’, some struggling, some questioning, some angry. Some people were obviously growing and some perhaps risked diminishing in grace. Many had more questions about life and God than they usually had, and a lot of people do, in effect, engage in some sort of re-evaluation of their life faced with illness or imminent death. All of this was true of the sick and of their carers. It was also moving how people without explicit faith often thought and acted in what I can only call a very graced way.

What did I learn? It needs wisdom and discernment to know when and what to speak, to pray or when to be quiet. Though an effective chaplain establishes very real human links, I was not there as family or long-established friend. I was there precisely as a chaplain, to bring my faith, hope and love to bear on their situations, so that Christ could minister to them. Although I committed my energy, gifts, personality and time I was aware that the real work was that of Christ, often independently of me, sometimes in spite of me, if sometimes through me. For that reason, I was glad to go and pray in the chapel between sessions and to participate in Mass every day. My own experience of difficulty in life helped. It was by drawing on my own experience of encountering God who has been, and is, present in my own brokenness, sustaining me, that I was ‘able to help others with the help with which Christ had helped me’ (cf 2 Cor 1:3-4). That is a lesson for the future and for other forms of preaching the gospel as well.