| Rome itself was quite Byzantine even in the VIIIth century. The Byzantine epoch starts if not with Constantine himself, in any case with Theodosius, and reaches its climax under Justinian. His was the time when a Christian culture was conscientiously and deliberately being built and completed as a system. The new culture was a great synthesis in which all the creative traditions and moves of the past were merged and integrated. It was a «New Hellenism,» but a Hellenism drastically christened and, as it were, «churchified.» It is still usual to suspect the Christian quality of this new synthesis. Was it not just an «acute Hellenization» of the «Biblical Christianity,» in which the whole novelty of the Revelation has been diluted and dissolved? Was not this new synthesis simply a disguised Paganism? This was precisely the considered opinion of Adolf Harnack. Now, in the light of an unbiased historical study, we can protest most strongly against this simplification. Was not that which the XIXth century historians used to describe as an «Hellenization of Christianity» rather a Conversion of Hellenism? And why should Hellenism not have been converted? The Christian reception of Hellenism was not just a servile absorption of an undigested heathen heritage. It was rather a conversion of the Hellenic mind and heart. What really had happened was this. Hellenism was mightily dissected with the sword of Christian Revelation, and was utterly polarized thereby. The closed horizon has been exploded. One should describe Origen and Augustine as «Hellenists.» But obviously it was another type of Hellenism than that of Plotinus or Julian. Among the decrees of Julian, Christians most loathed the one which prohibited Christians to teach arts and science. This was in fact a belated attempt to expel Christians from the making of civilization, to protect the ancient culture from Christian influence and impact. For the Cappadocian Fathers this was the main issue. And St. Gregory of Nazianzus in his sermons against Julian dwelt at length on this topic. St. Basil felt himself compelled to write an address «To young men, on how they may derive benefit from Hellenic literature.» Two centuries later, Justinian debarred non-Christians from all teaching and educational activities, and closed down all pagan schools. There was, in this measure, no hostility to «Hellenism.» This was no break in tradition. Traditions are kept and even cherished, but they are drawn into the process of Christian re-interpretation. This comprises the essence of Byzantine culture. It was an acceptance of the postulates of culture and their transvaluation. The magnificent Temple of Holy Wisdom, of the Eternal Word, the great church of Sophia in Constantinople, will ever stand as a living symbol of this cultural achievement. |
| For not without significance did the apostle say, And Adam was not deceived, but the womanbeing deceived was in the transgression; 1 Timothy 2:14 but he speaks thus, because the woman accepted as true what the serpent told her, but the man could not bear to be severed from his only companion, even though this involved a partnership in sin. He was not on this account less culpable, but sinned with his eyes open. And so the apostle does not say, He did not sin, but He was not deceived. For he shows that he sinned when he says, By one man sin entered into the world, Romans 5:12 and immediately after more distinctly, In the likeness of Adam " s transgression. But he meant that those are deceived who do not judge that which they do to be sin; but he knew. Otherwise how were it true Adam was not deceived? But having as yet no experience of the divine severity, he was possibly deceived in so far as he thought his sin venial. And consequently he was not deceived as the woman was deceived, but he was deceived as to the judgment which would be passed on his apology: The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me, and I did eat. Genesis 3:12 What need of saying more? Although they were not both deceived by credulity, yet both were entangled in the snares of the devil, and taken by sin. Chapter 12.– Of the Nature of Man " s First Sin. If any one finds a difficulty in understanding why other sins do not alter human nature as it was altered by the transgression of those first human beings, so that on account of it this nature is subject to the great corruption we feel and see, and to death, and is distracted and tossed with so many furious and contending emotions, and is certainly far different from what it was before sin, even though it were then lodged in an animal body – if, I say, any one is moved by this, he ought not to think that that sin was a small and light one because it was committed about food, and that not bad nor noxious, except because it was forbidden; for in that spot of singular felicity God could not have created and planted any evil thing. |
| This article originally appeared in Studia. Patristica, Vol. VI, ed. F. L. Cross (Berlin: Akademie Verlag; Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur, Band 81, 1962), 36–57. Reprinted by permission of the author. THE IDEA of Creation was a striking Christian innovation in philosophy. The problem itself was alien and even unintelligible to the Greek mind: de rerum originatione radicali. The Greek mind was firmly addicted to the conception of an Eternal Cosmos, permanent and immutable in its essential structure and composition. This Cosmos simply existed. Its existence was “necessary”, it was an ultimate or first datum, beyond which neither thought nor imagination could penetrate. There was, indeed, much movement within the world – “the wheel of origin and decay.” But the Cosmos as a whole was unchangeable, and its permanent structure was repeatedly and unfailingly exhibited in its. rotation and self-iteration. It was not a static world, there was in it an intense dynamism: but it was a dynamism of inescapable circulation. The Cosmos was a periodical, and yet a “necessary” and “immortal” being. The “shape” of the world might be exposed to changes, it was actually in a constant flux, but its very existence was perennial. One simply could not ask intelligently about the “origin” or “beginning” of the Cosmic fabric in the order of existence. 11 It was precisely at this point that the Greek mind was radically challenged by Biblical Revelation. This was a hard message for the Greeks. Indeed, it is still a hard message for philosophers. The Bible opens with the story of Creation. “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.” This has become a credal statement in the Christian Church. The Cosmos was no more regarded as a “self-explanatory” being. Its ultimate and intrinsic dependence upon God " s will and action has been vigorously asserted. But much more than just this relation of “dependence” was implied in the Biblical concept: the world was created ex nihilo, i.e., it did not exist “eternally”. |
| The Lutherans at Tübingen were interested in exactly the same problem, but from an opposite point of view. Was the Orthodox East prepared to accept that sound doctrine which, as they held, had been formulated in the Confession of Augsburg? The Patriarch’s comments were a disappointment. The Tubingen theologians felt themselves obliged to offer explanations, and supplied the Patriarch with some fresh material. The correspondence went on for several years, but was at last terminated by the Patriarch’s refusal to enter into any further discussions on doctrine. He was prepared to continue friendly contacts, and in fact some years later another series of letters was exchanged between Jeremiah and his Tübingen correspondents; in these doctrinal topics were not handled. Two points remain for consideration. First, the Greek translation of the Augsburg Confession which was sent to Constantinople was itself a remarkable document. The translation was first published in Basle in 1559 under the name of Paul Dolscius, and was reprinted in Wittenberg in 1587. There seems to be little doubt that the translation was in reality made by Melanchthon himself, with the help of a certain Demetrios, a deacon of the Greek Church, who was on mission in Germany and was staying with Melanchthon at the very time at which the translation was being made. The text used was not the official version, but a special version of the Variata of 1531; the translation was a free interpretation of the text, rather than a literal rendering. There is no doubt that this Greek translation was intended primarily for the Greeks and not for domestic circulation: Melanchthon was much annoyed by its publication, as he alleged, without his knowledge and consent. Was this just a diplomatic disguise or an adaptation to Greek usage? Or was the whole venture inspired by a deep conviction that basically and essentially Lutheran doctrine was in agreement with the patristic tradition? Melanchthon was a good patristic scholar and his respect for the Greek Fathers was genuine. He could sincerely believe that the Lutheran Confession might be acceptable to the Greeks. In 1559 he had sent a copy, with a personal letter, to the Patriarch Joasaph. His letter, however, probably never reached the Patriarch. |
| What friend of wisdom and holy joys, who, being married, but knowing, as the apostle says, how to possess his vessel in santification and honor, not in the disease of desire, as not prefer, if this were possible , to beget children without this lust, so that in this function of begetting offspring the members created for this purpose should not be stimulated by the heat of lust, but should be actuated by his volition, in the same way as his other members serve him for their respective ends? But even those who delight in this pleasure are not moved to it at their own will, whether they confine themselves to lawful or transgress to unlawful pleasures; but sometimes this lustimportunes them in spite of themselves, and sometimes fails them when they desire to feel it, so that though lust rages in the mind, it stirs not in the body. Thus, strangely enough, this emotion not only fails to obey the legitimate desire to beget offspring, but also refuses to serve lascivious lust; and though it often opposes its whole combined energy to the soul that resists it, sometimes also it is divided against itself, and while it moves the soul, leaves the body unmoved. Chapter 17.– Of the Nakedness of Our First Parents, Which They Saw After Their Base and Shameful Sin. Justly is shame very specially connected with this lust; justly, too, these members themselves, being moved and restrained not at our will, but by a certain independent autocracy, so to speak, are called shameful. Their condition was different before sin. For as it is written, They were naked and were not ashamed, Genesis 2:25 – not that their nakedness was unknown to them, but because nakedness was not yet shameful, because not yet did lust move those members without the will " s consent; not yet did the flesh by its disobedience testify against the disobedience of man. For they were not created blind, as the unenlightened vulgar fancy; for Adam saw the animals to whom he gave names, and of Eve we read, The woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes. Genesis 3:6 Their eyes, therefore were open, but were not open to this, that is to say, were not observant so as to recognize what was conferred upon them by the garment of grace, for they had no consciousness of their members warring against their will. |
| Already Tertullian was asking certain awkward questions, although in his own time they were no more than rhetorical questions. Could Caesars accept Christ, and believe in Him? Now, Caesars obviously belonged to «the world.» They were an integral part of the «secular» fabric, necessarii saeculo. Could then a Christian be Caesar, that is, belong at once to two conflicting orders, the Church and the World? (Apologeticum, 21.24). In the time of Constantine this concept of the «Christian Caesar» was still a riddle and a puzzle, despite the eloquent effort of Eusebius of Caesarea to elaborate the idea of the «Christian Empire.» For many Christians there was an inner contradiction in the concept itself. Caesars were necessarily committed to the cause of «this world.» But the Church was not of this world. The office of Caesar was intrinsically «secular.» Was there really any room for Emperors, as Emperors, in the structure of Christian Community? It has been recently suggested that probably Constantine himself was rather uneasy and uncertain precisely at this very point. It seems that one of the reasons for which he was delaying his own baptism, till his very last days, was precisely his dim feeling that it was inconvenient to be «Christian» and «Caesar» at the same time. Constantine’s personal conversion constituted no problem. But as Emperor he was committed. He had to carry the burden of his exalted position in the Empire. He was still a «Divine Caesar.» As Emperor, he was heavily involved in the traditions of the Empire, as much as he actually endeavored to disentangle himself. The transfer of the Imperial residence to a new City, away from the memories of the old pagan Rome, was a spectacular symbol of this noble effort. Yet, the Empire itself was still much the same as before, with its autocratic ethos and habits, with all its pagan practices, including the adoration and apotheosis of Caesars. We have good reasons to trust Constantine’s personal sincerity. No doubt, he was deeply convinced that Christianity was the only power which could quicken the sick body of the Empire and supply a new principle of cohesion in the time of social disintegration. But obviously he was unable to abdicate his sovereign authority, or to renounce the world. Indeed, Constantine was firmly convinced that, by Divine Providence, he was entrusted with a high and holy mission, that he was chosen to reestablish the Empire, and to reestablish it on a Christian foundation. This conviction, more than any particular political theory, was the decisive factor in his policy, and in his actual mode of ruling. |
| The way primacy on the universal level is exercised in the East continues to be a matter of consideration among the Orthodox. The pre-conciliar process has revealed certain differences among the autocephalous Churches in their understanding of what this primacy should entail. One of the concerns on the pre-conciliar agenda is that of autocephaly. Who has the right of granting autocephaly? History reveals diverse examples of how autocephaly has been achieved. In most cases it was proclaimed by a particular Church, and only later, sometimes after a long delay, was it recognized by Constantinople and other local Churches. For instance, the Russian Church became de facto autocephalous in 1448 when the Metropolitan of Moscow was elected without the consent of the Patriarch of Constantinople (who at that time was in union with Rome). Yet it was only during the period 1589-1593 that the Eastern Patriarchs recognized its autocephaly. This was done by means of two letters signed, not by the Ecumenical Patriarch alone, but also by other Patriarchs of the East. In these letters the Patriarchal rank of the primate of the Russian Church was recognized and the Patriarch of Moscow was placed fifth after the four Patriarchs of the East. The delay between a proclaimed autocephaly and its recognition by Constantinople has varied from fewer than twenty to more than seventy years. The Church of Greece, for example, proclaimed autocephaly in 1833 but was not recognized as such by Constantinople until 1850. The Church of Serbia restored its autocephaly in 1832 but was recognized in 1879. The Church of Romania declared it in 1865 but was recognized in 1885. The Church of Bulgaria proclaimed autocephaly in 1872 but it was only in 1945 that the Patriarch of Constantinople recognized it by issuing a Tomos. The Church of Albania declared it in 1922 but was recognized in 1937. The Church of Georgia is a special case. It was granted autocephaly in 466 from the Patriarchate of Antioch but its autocephaly was abolished by the Russian tsar in 1811 only to be restored in 1918. It was recognized by the Patriarch of Moscow in 1945 whereas the Patriarch of Constantinople officially recognized it as late as 1989, when a Tomos of autocephaly was granted by the Ecumenical Patriarch to the Catholicos-Patriarch of Georgia. |
| Recent Russian (=Non-Soviet) scholarship has proved that Gregory Rasputin was the object of the most awful slander and gossip. Why? Because the slanderers wanted to justify their hatred for the Monarchy through the Rasputin legend. Research by authors like A.N. Bokhanov has taken place in the archives, not in gossip and pornographic forgeries. Rasputin was purposely misrepresented in a Russia without censorship (unlike Western Europe), but also without laws against defamation. He had to be demonised by those who hated him because he was a real Christian. Russia did not fall because of Rasputin, but because of those who slandered rasputin and the government of the Tsar with him. Absurdly accusing Rasputin of virtually running the country during the War, the fantasy which they projected, most of these slanders came from degenerate aristocrats or wealthy, power-hungry bourgeois. Rasputin had no political influence on the independently-minded Tsar; he lived in Siberia until 1914 and visited the Imperial Family only when the Tsarevich was ill. ‘Rasputin’ does not mean ‘debauched’, it means he who lives where there are no roads. He was not mad, or a mystic, or a heretic, or a horse-thief, or a monk; he was a pious married layman with three children. One daughter, Matrona, died in Los Angeles in 1977; a great grand-daughter is alive and well and lives in Paris. He was not a depraved drunkard who was very rich. True, he had peasant manners, but then he was a peasant. Money given to him by the rich, he generously gave to others and to his village church. He died, or rather was cruelly murdered, in poverty. Rasputin was recommended by St John of Kronstadt and Bishop Theophan (Bystrov) for his sincerity. A devout Orthodox Christian, with a miraculous gift of healing, he spent much of his time in monasteries and at prayer. He was a pious peasant healer, sent by Providence to heal the Tsarevich, who performed miracles. Jealous and idle aristocrats tried to corrupt him with alcohol, and he was murdered by them. Among these aristocrats was the transvestite occultist Yusupov, and British secret agents. Yusupov, a great admirer of Oscar Wilde, was a cowardly homosexual who had shirked his military duties. He was not only a cold-blooded murder, but also a liar. Rasputin’s murder dismayed Russian peasants, of whom Rasputin had been one, for they felt that it meant that corrupt aristocrats would always stop any of them from getting close to the Tsar. Conclusion |
| This translation was published in Basel, 1559, under the name of Paul Dolscius (reprinted again in Wittemberg, 1587). Prof. E. Benz has recently proved that this translation was not an accurate rendering of the final and official text of the Augustana, but a document of a very peculiar character. First of all, the text used for translation was a special version of the Variata 1531, and not the later revision. Strange as it may appear this fact was completely overlooked both by contemporaries and by later scholars (only Lebedev noticed that it was the earlier version, somewhat amplified). Secondly, it was a free «interpretation» rather than a literal rendering. It was a skilful transposition, as it were, of the Augsburg Confession into the traditional theological idiom of the East. It betrays the interpreter’s intimate acquaintance with Greek patristic and liturgical phraseology. It is highly improbable that Dolscius could have done it. There can be little doubt that Melanchthon himself was responsible for that piece of work. But even such an expert Greek scholar as he could not have done it so effectively and consistently without the help of somebody to whom this Eastern idiom came naturally. Demetrios, a deacon of the Greek Church, was staying with Melanchthon precisely at the time when the translation was being made, and we have any reason to believe that his share in the whole work was considerable. Demetrios was an enigmatic person. He seems to have been sent to Germany by the Patriarch on some business. But he was obviously in deep sympathy with the Reformation and was active in the expansion of Protestantism in Hungary and Moldavia. He was commissioned by Melanchthon to deliver his letter and a copy of the Greek version to the Patriarch. Obviously, the Greek Augustana was intended primarily for the Greeks. It was not intended for domestic circulation and Melanchthon was much annoyed by its publication, as he alleged, without his consent and advice («sine meo consilio»). |
| Walter Bauer, for instance, divined that Papias either ‘expressed himself in an unfavorable manner [about John], or he kept silent also with respect to this gospel’. If he kept silent it was because John’s Gospel ‘apparently belonged to the long-winded prattle in which the great masses took pleasure... the Fourth Gospel [was suspect], no doubt, because of its content, origin, and the friends it had made.’ 288 Bauer is the main source of the popular but recendy debunked theory mentioned at the beginning of Chapter 8, which states that the Gospel of John was for a long time avoided or rejected by the orthodox (who suffered from what we might call ‘orthodox Johannophobia’) but was loved by the heretics (‘heterodox Johannophilia’). Bauer thus leaves us with a choice of two possible conspiracies: either it was Papias who suppressed the Gospel according to John, because it was entirely suspect and was popular with the wrong sorts of people; or Papias said something negative about John and it was Eusebius who edited out Papias’ embarrassing testimony. It is the second of these conspiracy theories which has been preferred by a few more recent scholars. In contrast to Bauer, these scholars suppose that Papias had a quite positive view of John, but they still propose that Eusebius purposely censored Papias’ testimony because Papias had, as Bauer suggested, ‘expressed himself in an unfavorable manner’ about it. What these scholars believe Papias said about John that was unfavourable was that its author was not the apostle John but the mysterious ‘Elder John’ mentioned above (yes, John was a quite common Jewish name). This would mean that Eusebius was intentionally concealing from his readers a very crucial fact. Now, I have to say, a lot of people are quite prepared to believe that Eusebius was fully capable of this kind of duplicitous censorship. It would certainly not be the only time Eusebius could be accused of reporting things in a way most favourable to his own position. Yet, it should not be forgotten that copies of Papias’ writings were in existence when Eusebius wrote, and he seems not the least threatened by the possibility that others will read Papias’ books and learn the ‘truth’ themselves. In fact, he recommends it (EH 3.39.14, ‘to which [i.e. Papias’ books] we refer those interested’). Moreover, the deception in this case cannot be confined to Eusebius. Other ‘interested’ people clearly had read Papias’ books, including Irenaeus and a number of other second- and third-century writers, yet neither they nor any one else ever reports the opinion that the Gospel according to John had been written by John the Elder. If Papias reported that the true author of the Fourth Gospel was not John the apostle but John the Elder, this would mean that a host of people in different times and places were involved in the same cover-up. In my opinion, this conspiracy theory more than stretches credulity. |
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