Studia Patristica: Papers Presented at the Eighteenth International Conference on Patristic Studies Held in Oxford 2019: Fourth-Century Christology in ... Reconsideration (9) (Studia Patristica, 112) 9789042947580, 9789042947597, 9042947586

Citation preview

STUDIA PATRISTICA VOL. CXII

Papers presented at the Eighteenth International Conference on Patristic Studies held in Oxford 2019 Edited by MARKUS VINZENT Volume 9:

Fourth-Century Christology in Context: A Reconsideration Edited by MIGUEL BRUGAROLAS

PEETERS LEUVEN – PARIS – BRISTOL, CT

2021

STUDIA PATRISTICA VOL. CXII

STUDIA PATRISTICA Editor: Markus VINZENT, King’s College London, UK and Max Weber Centre, University of Erfurt, Germany

Board of Directors (2019): Carol HARRISON, Lady Margaret Professor of Divinity, Faculty of Theology and Religion, University of Oxford, UK Mark EDWARDS, Professor of Early Christian Studies, Faculty of Theology and Religion, University of Oxford, UK Neil MCLYNN, University Lecturer in Later Roman History, Faculty of Classics, University of Oxford, UK Philip BOOTH, A.G. Leventis Associate Professor in Eastern Christianity, Faculty of Theology and Religion, University of Oxford, UK Sophie LUNN-ROCKLIFFE, Lecturer in Patristics, Faculty of Divinity, University of Cambridge, UK Morwenna LUDLOW, Professor, Theology and Religion, University of Exeter, UK Ioannis PAPADOGIANNAKIS, Senior Lecturer in Patristics, Department of Theology and Religious Studies, King’s College London, UK Markus VINZENT, Professor of the History of Theology, Department of Theology and Religious Studies, King’s College London, UK Josef LÖSSL, Professor of Historical Theology and Intellectual History, School of History, Archaeology and Religion, Cardiff University, UK Lewis AYRES, Professor of Catholic and Historical Theology, Department of Theology and Religion, Durham University, UK John BEHR, Regius Chair in Humanity, The School of Divinity, History, Philosophy & Art History, University of Aberdeen, UK Anthony DUPONT, Research Professor in Christian Antiquity, Faculty of Theology and Religious Studies, KU Leuven, Belgium Patricia CINER (as president of AIEP), Professor, Universidad de San Juan-Universidad Católica de Cuyo, Argentina Clayton JEFFORD (as president of NAPS), Professor of Scripture, Seminary and School of Theology, Saint Meinrad, IN, USA

STUDIA PATRISTICA VOL. CXII

Papers presented at the Eighteenth International Conference on Patristic Studies held in Oxford 2019 Edited by MARKUS VINZENT Volume 9:

Fourth-Century Christology in Context: A Reconsideration Edited by MIGUEL BRUGAROLAS

PEETERS LEUVEN – PARIS – BRISTOL, CT

2021

© Peeters Publishers — Louvain — Belgium 2021 All rights reserved, including the right to translate or to reproduce this book or parts thereof in any form. D/2021/0602/146 ISBN: 978-90-429-4758-0 eISBN: 978-90-429-4759-7 A catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. Printed in Belgium by Peeters, Leuven

Table of Contents

Miguel BRUGAROLAS Introduction .........................................................................................

1

Vito LIMONE The Soul of Christ: A Contribution of Origen to the Fourth-Century Christology ..........................................................................................

7

David M. GWYNN Christology in the Pastoral Theology of Athanasius of Alexandria ..

23

Hélène GRELIER-DENEUX Réflexions christologiques dans le Commentaire sur les Psaumes d’Apolinaire de Laodicée. Étude de cas sur le Ps 44:8bc..................

33

Kirsten H. ANDERSON Christ’s Subjection and Human Salvation in Gregory of Nyssa’s In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius.....................................................................

49

Aaron RICHES Like a Drop of Water: Mingling Christology and Mystagogy in Gregory of Nyssa, Chalcedon and the Roman Rite ...........................

61

Miguel BRUGAROLAS From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology ..........................................................................................

77

Andrew HOFER Augustine’s Mixture Christology ........................................................ 103 Khaled ANATOLIOS A Test Case for Alexandrian Christology: The Impassible Suffering of Christ in Athanasius and Cyril of Alexandria ................................ 127 Ilaria VIGORELLI The Theology of the Union of Natures in Christ in Gregory of Nyssa and Cyril: A Comparison in Light of the Second Council of Constantinople (553) ........................................................................................ 139 Giulio MASPERO Re-thinking Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology in the Light of its Use (chrêsis) in the Second Council of Constantinople ............................ 159

VI

Table of Contents

Monica TOBON Rethinking Evagrius’ Christology....................................................... 179 Marius PORTARU From the Hypostatic Union to Person-Hypostasis. On the Interplay between Identity-Language Christology and Composition-Language Christology in Cyril of Alexandria and Maximus the Confessor ...... 187 Johannes ZACHHUBER Christology in the Fourth Century: A Response ................................ 209

Abbreviations AA.SS AAWG.PH AB AC ACL ACO ACW AHDLMA AJAH AJP AKK AKPAW ALMA ALW AnalBoll ANCL ANF ANRW AnSt AnThA APOT AR ARW ASS AThANT Aug AugSt AW AZ BA BAC BASOR BDAG BEHE BETL BGL BHG BHL

see ASS. Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen Philologisch-historische Klasse, Göttingen. Analecta Bollandiana, Brussels. Antike und Christentum, ed. F.J. Dölger, Münster. Antiquité classique, Louvain. Acta conciliorum oecumenicorum, ed. E. Schwartz, Berlin. Ancient Christian Writers, ed. J. Quasten and J.C. Plumpe, Westminster (Md.)/London. Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du moyen âge, Paris. American Journal of Ancient History, Cambridge, Mass. American Journal of Philology, Baltimore. Archiv für katholisches Kirchenrecht, Mainz. Abhandlungen der königlichen Preußischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, Berlin. Archivum Latinitatis Medii Aevi (Bulletin du Cange), Paris/Brussels. Archiv für Liturgiewissenschaft, Regensburg. Analecta Bollandiana, Brussels. Ante-Nicene Christian Library, Edinburgh. Ante-Nicene Fathers, Buffalo/New York. Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt, ed H. Temporini et al., Berlin. Anatolian Studies, London. Année théologique augustinienne, Paris. Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament in English, ed. R.E. Charles, Oxford. Archivum Romanicum, Florence. Archiv für Religionswissenschaft, Berlin/Leipzig. Acta Sanctorum, ed. the Bollandists, Brussels. Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments, Zürich. Augustinianum, Rome. Augustinian Studies, Villanova (USA). Athanasius Werke, ed. H.-G. Opitz et al., Berlin. Archäologische Zeitung, Berlin. Bibliothèque augustinienne, Paris. Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, Madrid. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, New Haven, Conn. A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, 3rd edn F.W. Danker, Chicago. Bibliothèque de l’École des Hautes Études, Paris. Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium, Louvain. Benediktinisches Geistesleben, St. Ottilien. Bibliotheca Hagiographica Graeca, Brussels. Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina Antiquae et Mediae Aetatis, Brussels.

VIII BHO BHTh BJ BJRULM BKV BKV2 BKV3 BLE BoJ BS BSL BWAT Byz BZ BZNW CAr CBQ CChr.CM CChr.SA CChr.SG CChr.SL CH CIL CP(h) CPG CPL CQ CR CSCO

CSEL CSHB CTh CUF CW DAC

Abbreviations

Bibliotheca Hagiographica Orientalis, Brussels. Beiträge zur historischen Theologie, Tübingen. Bursians Jahresbericht über die Fortschritte der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft, Leipzig. Bulletin of the John Rylands Library, Manchester. Bibliothek der Kirchenväter, ed. F.X. Reithmayr and V. Thalhofer, Kempten. Bibliothek der Kirchenväter, ed. O. Bardenhewer, Th. Schermann, and C. Weyman, Kempten/Munich. Bibliothek der Kirchenväter. Zweite Reihe, ed. O. Bardenhewer, J. Zellinger, and J. Martin, Munich. Bulletin de littérature ecclésiastique, Toulouse. Bonner Jahrbücher, Bonn. Bibliotheca sacra, London. Bolletino di studi latini, Naples. Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten Testament, Leipzig/Stuttgart. Byzantion, Leuven. Byzantinische Zeitschrift, Leipzig. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft, Berlin. Cahiers Archéologique, Paris. Catholic Biblical Quarterly, Washington. Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis, Turnhout/Paris. Corpus Christianorum, Series Apocryphorum, Turnhout/Paris. Corpus Christianorum, Series Graeca, Turnhout/Paris. Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina, Turnhout/Paris. Church History, Chicago. Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, Berlin. Classical Philology, Chicago. Clavis Patrum Graecorum, ed. M. Geerard, vols. I-VI, Turnhout. Clavis Patrum Latinorum (SE 3), ed. E. Dekkers and A. Gaar, Turnhout. Classical Quarterly, London/Oxford. The Classical Review, London/Oxford. Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, Louvain. Aeth = Scriptores Aethiopici Ar = Scriptores Arabici Arm = Scriptores Armeniaci Copt = Scriptores Coptici Iber = Scriptores Iberici Syr = Scriptores Syri Subs = Subsidia Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum, Vienna. Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae, Bonn. Collectanea Theologica, Lvov. Collection des Universités de France publiée sous le patronage de l’Association Guillaume Budé, Paris. Catholic World, New York. Dictionary of the Apostolic Church, ed. J. Hastings, Edinburgh.

Abbreviations

DACL DAL DB DBS DCB DHGE Did DOP DOS DR DS DSp DTC EA ECatt ECQ EE EECh EKK EH EO EtByz ETL EWNT ExpT FC FGH FKDG FRL FS FThSt FTS FZThPh GCS GDV GLNT GNO GRBS

IX

see DAL Dictionnaire d’archéologie chrétienne et de liturgie, ed. F. Cabrol, H. Leclercq, Paris. Dictionnaire de la Bible, Paris. Dictionnaire de la Bible, Supplément, Paris. Dictionary of Christian Biography, Literature, Sects, and Doctrines, ed. W. Smith and H. Wace, 4 vols, London. Dictionnaire d’histoire et de géographie ecclésiastique, ed. A. Baudrillart, Paris. Didaskalia, Lisbon. Dumbarton Oaks Papers, Cambridge, Mass., subsequently Washington, D.C. Dumbarton Oaks Studies, Cambridge, Mass., subsequently Washington, D.C. Downside Review, Stratton on the Fosse, Bath. H.J. Denzinger and A. Schönmetzer, ed., Enchiridion Symbolorum, Barcelona/Freiburg i.B./Rome. Dictionnaire de Spiritualité, ed. M. Viller, S.J., and others, Paris. Dictionnaire de théologie catholique, ed. A. Vacant, E. Mangenot, and E. Amann, Paris. Études augustiniennes, Paris. Enciclopedia Cattolica, Rome. Eastern Churches Quarterly, Ramsgate. Estudios eclesiasticos, Madrid. Encyclopedia of the Early Church, ed. A. Di Berardino, Cambridge. Evangelisch-Katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament, Neukirchen. Enchiridion Fontium Historiae Ecclesiasticae Antiquae, ed. Ueding-Kirch, 6th ed., Barcelona. Échos d’Orient, Paris. Études Byzantines, Paris. Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses, Louvain. Exegetisches Wörterbuch zum NT, ed. H.R. Balz et al., Stuttgart. The Expository Times, Edinburgh. The Fathers of the Church, New York. Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, Berlin. Forschungen zur Kirchen- und Dogmengeschichte, Göttingen. Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments, Göttingen. Festschrift. Freiburger theologische Studien, Freiburg i.B. Frankfurter theologische Studien, Frankfurt a.M. Freiburger Zeitschrift für Theologie und Philosophie, Freiburg/Switzerland. Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller, Leipzig/Berlin. Geschichtsschreiber der deutschen Vorzeit, Stuttgart. Grande Lessico del Nuovo Testamento, Genoa. Gregorii Nysseni Opera, Leiden. Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies, Cambridge, Mass.

X GWV HbNT HDR HJG HKG HNT HO HSCP HTR HTS HZ ICC ILCV ILS J(b)AC JBL JdI JECS JEH JJS JLH JPTh JQR JRS JSJ JSOR JTS KAV KeTh KJ(b) LCL LNPF L(O)F LSJ LThK LXX MA MAMA Mansi MBTh

Abbreviations

Geschichte in Wissenschaft und Unterricht, Offenburg. Handbuch zum Neuen Testament. Tübingen. Harvard Dissertations in Religion, Missoula. Historisches Jahrbuch der Görresgesellschaft, successively Munich, Cologne and Munich/Freiburg i.B. Handbuch der Kirchengeschichte, Tübingen. Handbuch zum Neuen Testament, Tübingen. Handbuch der Orientalistik, Leiden. Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, Cambridge, Mass. Harvard Theological Review, Cambridge, Mass. Harvard Theological Studies, Cambridge, Mass. Historische Zeitschrift, Munich/Berlin. The International Critical Commentary of the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, Edinburgh. Inscriptiones Latinae Christianae Veteres, ed. E. Diehl, Berlin. Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae, ed. H. Dessau, Berlin. Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum, Münster. Journal of Biblical Literature, Philadelphia, Pa., then various places. Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Berlin. Journal of Early Christian Studies, Baltimore. The Journal of Ecclesiastical History, London. Journal of Jewish Studies, London. Jahrbuch für Liturgik und Hymnologie, Kassel. Jahrbücher für protestantische Theologie, Leipzig/Freiburg i.B. Jewish Quarterly Review, Philadelphia. Journal of Roman Studies, London. Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman Period, Leiden. Journal of the Society of Oriental Research, Chicago. Journal of Theological Studies, Oxford. Kommentar zu den apostolischen Vätern, Göttingen. Kerk en Theologie, ’s Gravenhage. Kirchliches Jahrbuch für die evangelische Kirche in Deutschland, Gütersloh. The Loeb Classical Library, London/Cambridge, Mass. A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, ed. P. Schaff and H. Wace, Buffalo/New York. Library of Fathers of the Holy Catholic Church, Oxford. H.G. Liddell and R. Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon, new (9th) edn H.S. Jones, Oxford. Lexikon für Theologie und Kirche, Freiburg i.B. Septuagint. Moyen-Âge, Brussels. Monumenta Asiae Minoris Antiqua, London. J.D. Mansi, Sacrorum conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio, Florence, 1759-1798. Reprint and continuation: Paris/Leipzig, 1901-1927. Münsterische Beiträge zur Theologie, Münster.

Abbreviations

MCom MGH ML MPG MSR MThZ Mus NA28 NGWG NH(M)S NIV NKJV NovTest NPNF NRSV NRTh NTA NT.S NTS NTTSD OBO OCA OCP OECS OLA OLP Or OrChr OrSyr PG PGL PL PLRE PLS PO PRE PS PTA PThR PTS PW QLP QuLi RAC RACh

XI

Miscelanea Comillas, Comillas/Santander. Monumenta germaniae historica. Hanover/Berlin. Mediaevalia Lovaniensia, Louvain. See PG. Mélanges de science religieuse, Lille. Münchener theologische Zeitschrift, Munich. Le Muséon, Louvain. Nestle-Aland, Novum Testamentum Graece, 28th edition, Stuttgart. Nachrichten der Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen. Nag Hammadi (and Manichaean) Studies, Leiden. New International Version. New King James Version. Novum Testamentum, Leiden. See LNPF. New Revised Standard Version. Nouvelle Revue Théologique, Tournai/Louvain/Paris. Neutestamentliche Abhandlungen, Münster. Novum Testamentum Supplements, Leiden. New Testament Studies, Cambridge/Washington. New Testament Tools, Studies and Documents, Leiden/Boston. Orbis biblicus et orientalis, Freiburg, Switz., then Louvain. Orientalia Christiana Analecta, Rome. Orientalia Christiana Periodica, Rome. Oxford Early Christian Studies, Oxford. Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, Louvain. Orientalia Lovaniensia Periodica, Louvain. Orientalia. Commentarii editi a Pontificio Instituto Biblico, Rome. Oriens Christianus, Leipzig, then Wiesbaden. L’Orient Syrien, Paris. Migne, Patrologia, series graeca. A Patristic Greek Lexicon, ed. G.L. Lampe, Oxford. Migne, Patrologia, series latina. The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, ed. A.H.M. Jones et al., Cambridge. Migne, Patrologia, series latina. Supplementum ed. A. Hamman. Patrologia Orientalis, Paris. Paulys Realenzyklopädie der classischen Alterthumswissenschaft, Stuttgart. Patrologia Syriaca, Paris. Papyrologische Texte und Abhandlungen, Bonn. Princeton Theological Review, Princeton. Patristische Texte und Studien, Berlin. Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, ed. G. Wissowa, Stuttgart. Questions liturgiques et paroissiales, Louvain. Questions liturgiques, Louvain. Rivista di Archeologia Cristiana, Rome. Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, Stuttgart.

XII RAM RAug RBen RB(ibl) RE

Abbreviations

Revue d’ascétique et de mystique, Paris. Recherches Augustiniennes, Paris. Revue Bénédictine, Maredsous. Revue biblique, Paris. Realencyklopädie für protestantische Theologie und Kirche, founded by J.J. Herzog, 3e ed. A. Hauck, Leipzig. REA(ug) Revue des études Augustiniennes, Paris. REB Revue des études byzantines, Paris. RED Rerum ecclesiasticarum documenta, Rome. RÉL Revue des études latines, Paris. REG Revue des études grecques, Paris. RevSR Revue des sciences religieuses, Strasbourg. RevThom Revue thomiste, Toulouse. RFIC Rivista di filologia e d’istruzione classica, Turin. RGG Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart, ed. Gunkel-Zscharnack, Tübingen RHE Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, Louvain. RhMus Rheinisches Museum für Philologie, Bonn. RHR Revue de l’histoire des religions, Paris. RHT Revue d’Histoire des Textes, Paris. RMAL Revue du Moyen-Âge Latin, Paris. ROC Revue de l’Orient chrétien, Paris. RPh Revue de philologie, Paris. RQ Römische Quartalschrift, Freiburg i.B. RQH Revue des questions historiques, Paris. RSLR Rivista di storia e letteratura religiosa, Florence. RSPT, RSPh Revue des sciences philosophiques et théologiques, Paris. RSR Recherches de science religieuse, Paris. RTAM Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale, Louvain. RthL Revue théologique de Louvain, Louvain. RTM Rivista di teologia morale, Bologna. Sal Salesianum, Roma. SBA Schweizerische Beiträge zur Altertumswissenschaft, Basel. SBS Stuttgarter Bibelstudien, Stuttgart. ScEc Sciences ecclésiastiques, Bruges. SCh, SC Sources chrétiennes, Paris. SD Studies and Documents, ed. K. Lake and S. Lake. London/Philadelphia. SE Sacris Erudiri, Bruges. SDHI Studia et documenta historiae et iuris, Roma. SH Subsidia Hagiographica, Brussels. SHA Scriptores Historiae Augustae. SJMS Speculum. Journal of Mediaeval Studies, Cambridge, Mass. SM Studien und Mitteilungen zur Geschichte des Benediktinerordens und seiner Zweige, Munich. SO Symbolae Osloenses, Oslo. SP Studia Patristica, successively Berlin, Kalamazoo, Leuven. SPM Stromata Patristica et Mediaevalia, ed. C. Mohrmann and J. Quasten, Utrecht.

Abbreviations

SQ SQAW SSL StudMed SVigChr SVF TDNT TE ThGl ThJ ThLZ ThPh ThQ ThR ThWAT ThWNT ThZ TLG TP TRE TS TThZ TU USQR VC VetChr VT WBC WUNT WZKM YUP ZAC ZAM ZAW ZDPV ZKG ZKTh ZNW ZRG ZThK

XIII

Sammlung ausgewählter Quellenschriften zur Kirchen- und Dogmengeschichte, Tübingen. Schriften und Quellen der Alten Welt, Berlin. Spicilegium Sacrum Lovaniense, Louvain. Studi Medievali, Turin. Supplements to Vigiliae Christianae, Leiden. Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta, ed. J. von Arnim, Leipzig. Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, Grand Rapids, Mich. Teologia espiritual, Valencia. Theologie und Glaube, Paderborn. Theologische Jahrbücher, Leipzig. Theologische Literaturzeitung, Leipzig. Theologie und Philosophie, Freiburg i.B. Theologische Quartalschrift, Tübingen. Theologische Rundschau, Tübingen. Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament, Stuttgart. Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament, Stuttgart. Theologische Zeitschrift, Basel. Thesaurus Linguae Graecae. Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association, Lancaster, Pa. Theologische Realenzyklopädie, Berlin. Theological Studies, New York and various places; now Washington, DC. Trierer theologische Zeitschrift, Trier. Texte und Untersuchungen, Leipzig/Berlin. Union Seminary Quarterly Review, New York. Vigiliae Christianae, Amsterdam. Vetera Christianorum, Bari (Italy). Vetus Testamentum, Leiden. Word Biblical Commentary, Waco. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, Tübingen. Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes, Vienna. Yale University Press, New Haven. Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum, Berlin. Zeitschrift für Aszese und Mystik, Innsbruck, then Würzburg. Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft, Giessen, then Berlin. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins, Leipzig. Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, Gotha, then Stuttgart. Zeitschrift für katholische Theologie, Vienna. Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche, Giessen, then Berlin. Zeitschrift für Rechtsgeschichte, Weimar. Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche, Tübingen.

Introduction Miguel BRUGAROLAS, University of Navarra, Pamplona, Spain

The Christology of the fourth century has long been criticized for technical deficiency in comparison with the great Christological development that took place in the following decades. This criticism has been directed in particular against the Cappadocian Fathers, in large part as a counterpoint to the acknowledgement of their prominence in the development of Trinitarian theology.1 Their Christological statements are often seen from the standpoint of Dogmengeschichte as an early, non-technical, and, to some extent, puzzling contribution, which contrasts with these Fathers’ outstanding sharpness in Trinitarian theology. However, when analysing their views from the perspective of their great unity of thought, their contribution to Christology appears much more coherent and profound. The teleological perspective – which emphasizes the contribution of ancient authors to later Christological developments such as the Chalcedonian formula – is often incapable of discovering that the entire Christian mystery is essentially Christological and that therefore every proclamation of the faith implies a concrete image of Jesus Christ. According to Brian Daley, if one reads what ancient authors themselves have to say about Christ, ‘one finds a much wider range of concerns and priorities – indeed, a sense that practically all the questions we raise, as Christians, about God and the world, ourselves and our future, are rooted and mirrored in the questions we raise about the person of Christ’.2 Indeed, the teleological perspective is primarily concerned with partial questions which were highly relevant in the Christological debates surrounding the dogmatic definitions of Ephesus and Chalcedon. These questions include those regarding the soul of Christ, the ontological analysis of the Person of the Incarnate Logos, and the logic and semantics of Christological language. These topics, while not absent from the present volume, are not the primary interest of the contributions it collects. Rather than considering fourth-century Christology as a pre-history of the Chalcedonian debates, this volume seeks to widen the perspective. While it is certain that the definition of the hypostatic union determined theological discussion and the conceptual and terminological nucleus of Christology from the fifth century onwards, it is nonetheless impossible to comprehend the history of Christology (or the very formula of Chalcedon) 1

Cf. A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition: From the Apostolic Age to Chalcedon (451) (London, 1975), 369. 2 B.E. Daley, God Visible: Patristic Christology Reconsidered (Oxford, 2018), 200.

Studia Patristica CXII, 1-5. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

M. BRUGAROLAS

2

without recognizing that the fundamental starting point is Christ himself and his redemptive work as the nucleus of the Church’s preaching since apostolic times. For this reason the present volume – with various approaches – tries to widen the perspective, proposing not so much a teleological vision of the development of dogma but rather a protological vision, for the life and teaching of Christ are the absolute origin, that is, the radical beginning of the Church’s preaching and of the development of Christology in its different dimensions: exegetical, liturgical, pastoral, dogmatic, etc. Thus, this volume highlights the Christological context of central elements of fourth-century theology such as: the relationship of God with the world; the relationship between divine immanence, economy, history, and eschatology; the transformation of the Christian’s life; and the exegesis of Scripture. All this turns out to be essentially Christological: the mystery of Christ is the theological key to comprehending Scripture, Creation, man, history, and time. In reality, everything Christian is related to the question of the Person of Jesus Christ, and, for that reason, the Chalcedonian formula itself cannot be properly understood without taking into consideration how it bears on this previous, wider range of concerns and priorities, as Khaled Anatolios has observed.3 The Chalcedonian formula is not the result of mere philosophical speculation nor is it the inauguration of a new rationality. It is a distilled fruit of the Church’s preaching since apostolic times, an authoritative theological expression of the salvific mystery of Christ proclaimed in Scripture. Therefore, the most fitting method for comprehending the doctrine of Chalcedon is not philosophy (although this should not be disregarded) but soteriology and biblical exegesis. This is where there clearly appears the importance of the comprehension which the principal theologians of the fourth century had of the mystery of Christ. The Christological crisis in the fourth century is, above all, a crisis of soteriology. It is the breeding ground of later Christological developments, and, for that reason, it is the most fitting method for understanding fifth century Christology in a way that does not separate technical or speculative Christology from real Christology, that is, from the Christ lived and proclaimed in the Church since the beginning. There are thirteen contributions collected in this volume. Many of them formed part of the Workshop on this topic which took place during the International Conference on Patristic Studies in August 2019. Others were presented at separate panels during the same meeting in Oxford, and it was decided to include them in this volume because they deal with related subjects and constitute a valuable contribution. The book opens with the chapter of Vito Limone, who studies the relationship between the Logos and the soul of Christ in Origen. Origen describes this relationship with the example of the union between fire and iron when they come into contact – an example related to the Stoic notion of blending (κρᾶσις) 3

K. Anatolios, ‘Brian Daley’s God Visible: End or Beginning?’, Pro Ecclesia 28 (2019), 352.

Introduction

3

and to the critical reception of this notion by Alexander of Aphrodisias and Plotinus. Origen uses this example to discuss the union of the divine and the human in Christ. The union of the Logos and the soul of Christ is expressed by the Alexandrine as the exchange of properties between the two natures, and, according to V. Limone, this exchange prefigures the ‘union without confusion” (ἀσύγχυτος ἕνωσις) of Chalcedon. Next, David Gwynn deals with the pastoral application of the Christological teachings present in the Festal Letters of Athanasius. He shows that, to understand the Christology of Athanasius, it is necessary to go beyond his anti-Arian writings and overcome the teleological interpretation that reads the works of Athanasius against the backdrop of the later Christological controversies of the fifth century. The ascetical and pastoral works of Athanasius, read in their historical and theological context, are key for understanding the emphasis he places on the divinity and the humanity of Christ. The special relationship between Christology and soteriology is clearly seen, as well as the profound understanding of the reality of the Incarnation: the Son, being eternally and essentially God, took on our humanity to grant us salvation. The nucleus of Athanasius’ Christology, Christ’s redemption of humanity, is, therefore, profoundly economic-salvific. The interest for soteriology also appears in Hélène Grelier’s article on the exegesis of Apollinaris of Laodicea. Following the analysis of his commentary on Psalm 44, she shows how his concern in these writings is to explain not so much the relationship between the human and the divine in Christ but rather the salvific efficacy which the sanctification of the concrete humanity of Christ possesses for the entire human race. It is therefore apparent how the soteriological question is also of radical importance to authors such as Apollinaris who were directly involved in the incipient Christological controversies of the second half of the fourth century. The articles of Kirsten Anderson and Aaron Riches offer interesting contributions regarding some aspects of the Christology of Gregory of Nyssa. K. Anderson analyzes Gregory of Nyssa’s comprehension of the notion of subjection (ὑποταγή) in his commentary on 1Corinthians 15: In illud tunc et ipse. This is an important topic in the context of the Trinitarian controversy with Eunomius and has implications which are relevant for understanding the relationship of humanity with Jesus Christ – a key question of soteriology, as the article shows. By contrast, Aaron Riches deals with the mystagogical depth of the signs and language by which the liturgy expresses the union of the human and the divine in Christ in terms of commixtio. He shows that the liturgy, as a celebration of faith, has found in the vocabulary of mingling Christology a way of expressing the union between the human and the divine in Christ – the admirable exchange between God and man in which salvation consists. The article contributes to deconstructing – especially with regard to the Christology of Gregory of Nyssa – certain aspects of the dominant metanarrative of the twentieth century regarding the

4

M. BRUGAROLAS

development of Christology in Antiquity, presenting what the author calls ‘the mystagogical soul of orthodox mingling Christology’. After the study of the mingling Christology of Gregory of Nyssa comes the analysis of the economic-salvific character of the Christology of two of the Cappadocians. The description of the unity of Christ by Gregory of Nazianzus and his namesake of Nyssa in terms of paradox, as I argued in my own contribution to this volume, has its roots in their notions of divine transcendence and of God’s philanthropy. In their writings there is a clear correspondence between the Trinitarian core idea of the distinction without separation of theologia and oikonomia and the intrinsically soteriological dynamism of Christology. Their description of the Incarnation is, behind clear differences in style and literary form, paradoxical in its shape precisely because it is soteriological in its substance. That is, the depth of the union of the human and the divine in Christ is congruous with the salvific meaning of the life, death and resurrection of Christ. Andrew Hofer’s contribution to this volume illustrates the Latin perspective by analysing Augustine’s Mixture Christology. Dealing with the broad language of mixture in Augustine’s descriptions of the Incarnation, A. Hofer rightly stresses the anti-Manichean context as a way of deepening the comprehension of this language not only with regard to philosophical categories but also in connection with rhetorical techniques and theological purposes. Although, as has already been noted, this volume does not seek to offer a new account of the history of Christological dogma, three of its chapters do offer important analyses that lead to a renewed appreciation of the reception of fourthcentury Christology in later periods. The first of these studies is that of Khaled Anatolios, who delves into the paradoxical claim – core of Christian soteriology – of the impassible suffering of Christ as it is stated by both Athanasius and Cyril of Alexandria. Taking as a starting point Richard Norris’ idea of Cyril of Alexandria’s Christology, which is mainly concerned with the logical and grammatical form of the fact that the kenosis of Christ into the human condition has the eternal Word as its subject, the paper argues that linguistic patterns of predication are still of interest for the comprehension of Christological development from Athanasius to Cyril. There is a continuity in the Christological logic of both Athanasius and Cyril, which integrates it with a strongly salvific significance and within an explicitly Trinitarian framework. After this, the contributions of Giulio Maspero and Ilaria Vigorelli show the relevance of certain Christological developments of the fourth century, such as those of Gregory of Nyssa, as seen from the perspective of later Byzantine orthodoxy. Indeed, in the light of Justinian’s reception of the work of Gregory of Nyssa, there are new elements to help formulate a more just evaluation of the Christological relevance of the Cappadocians, as much from the standpoint of the historical development of dogma as from a strictly theological perspective. By comparing the expressions of Gregory of Nyssa regarding the union of the Father and the Son in the divine immanence with the affirmation of Cyril regarding the union kath’ hypostasin of the Word with His Humanity in the

Introduction

5

Incarnation, Ilaria Vigorelli indicates that the relationship between theologia and oikonomia outlined by Gregory of Nyssa together with his theology of relation (schesis) are key elements since they are properly Trinitarian developments with enormous consequences for Christological and soteriological faith. For his part, Giulio Maspero argues that an attentive reading of dogmatic development in the sixth century leads to a reconsideration of the formal insufficiency generally ascribed to the Cappadocian’s Christology. Indeed, Justinian’s theologians, doing what can be identified as a typical patristic epistemology, fell back on Gregory’s Christology to explain in a realistic sense Cyril’s doctrine of the distinction between the divine nature and the human nature in the hypostatic union. The theology of the Cappadocians, and, in particular, that of Gregory, encompasses both Trinitarian and Christological doctrine in a way that provides a solid foundation for the last stages of the disputes about the mystery of Christ at the Second Council of Constantinople. Finally, the volume concludes with the chapters of Monica Tobon and of Marius Portaru and with the final reflection of Johannes Zachhuber, which points out, mainly from a teleological perspective which looks toward Chalcedon, many of the topics which came up in the debate following the presentations of the Workshop in the Examination Schools of Oxford. Monica Tobon dedicates her article to the Christology of Evagrius. First, she expounds in a non-Origenist sense Evagrius’ distinction between primary nature, that is, the human prelapsarian and eschatological condition, and secondary nature, which is the present human fallen condition. Afterwards, while analysing the Kephalaia Gnostika, she proposes a non-dualistic interpretation of Evagrius’ Christology. Her article clearly emphasizes the relationship between creation theology and Christology. For his part, Marius Portaru, in his study of the relationship between Identity-Language and Composition-Language in Cyril and its original reception by Maximus with the introduction of the concepts of ‘composite hypostasis’ and ‘theandric activity’, highlights that the way Christological faith is expressed in language played an essential role not only, as is already known, in the Christological developments prior to the fifth century and in the discussions surrounding the Councils of Ephesus and Chalcedon but also in later centuries. Indeed, it is an essential aspect of all Christology. Lastly, I do not wish to conclude this brief introduction without thanking the authors for their magnificent contributions: those who from the beginning accepted with enthusiasm to participate in this workshop – K. Anatolios, G. Maspero, D. Gwyn, I. Vigorelli, V. Limone and A. Riches –; and those who later generously offered to have their texts included in this volume – H. Grelier, A. Hofer, M. Tobon, K. Anderson and M. Portaru –; as well as J. Zachhuber, who brilliantly started an appealing dialog as a respondent to the Workshop’s presentations and later wrote his reflections, which conclude this volume. Finally, on behalf of all the authors, I would like to express our thanks to Markus Vinzent for his excellent work as editor of Studia Patristica: a monumental undertaking which, in this long period marked by the pandemic, has been all the more commendable.

The Soul of Christ: A Contribution of Origen to the Fourth-Century Christology Vito LIMONE, University San Raffaele, Milan, Italy

ABSTRACT The chief aim of this article is to explore the contribution of Origen of Alexandria to the Christology in the 4th century, with a particular attention to his use of the philosophical category of blending in relation to the union of the soul of Christ and the divine Logos. The main outcome of this research is that Origen’s Christological application of the philosophical notion of blending contributes to the understanding of the nexus between the soul of Christ and the Logos. In this regard, the article consists of three sections: the first part is devoted to the misinterpretation of Theophilus of Alexandria of the Origenian relation between the soul of Christ and the Logos, which is one of the most controversial issues in the first Origenist crisis; in the second part, we shall consider the intertwining of the soul of Christ and the Logos as it is exposed in Origen’s On First Principles II 6, with a focus on the pre-existence of the soul of Christ, its peculiar identity and its relation to the Logos as mixture, expressed by the simile of the heated iron; finally, we shall mention the philosophical debate in late antiquity about the Stoic theory of mixture, with a particular attention to the views of the Peripatetic Alexander of Aphrodisias and the Platonist Plotinus, and point out that Origen’s Christological use of blending in PA. II 6 is aware of this debate.

1. Premise One of the major issues of the Christology in the 4th century, for instance in Gregory of Nyssa,1 is the doctrine of mixture of the human and divine natures * I am grateful to the British Society for the History of Philosophy (B.S.H.P.) for having supported my participation in the Eighteenth International Conference on Patristic Studies (Oxford, August 19th -24th, 2019). 1 Over the past decades many scholars have already emphasized the reference of Gregory of Nyssa to the doctrine of mixture in his Christological vocabulary; it is worth mentioning the following studies on this topic: Jean-René Bouchet, ‘À propos d’une image christologique de Grégoire de Nysse’, RevThom 67 (1967), 584-58; id., ‘Le vocabulaire de l’union et du rapport des natures chez Grégoire de Nysse’, RevThom 68 (1968), 533-82; Christopher Stead, ‘Ontology and Terminology in Gregory of Nyssa’, in Heinrich Dörrie, Margarete Altenburger and Uta Schramm (eds), Gregor von Nyssa und die Philosophie (Leiden, 1976), 107-27; Lucas F. Mateo-Seco, ‘Notas sobre el lenguaje cristólogico de Gregorio de Nisa’, ScrTheol 35 (2003), 89-112; Sarah Coakley, ‘“Mingling” in Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology: A Reconsideration’, in Andreas Schuele and

Studia Patristica CXII, 7-22. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

8

V. LIMONE

in Christ and, in particular, the Christological use of the philosophical category of blending. Though this notion is key to the 4th-century Christology, the earliest author that employs the philosophical category of blending in an explicitly Christological fashion is Origen of Alexandria, who combines it with his theory of the soul of Christ and applies it to the relationship between the soul of Christ and the divine Logos. It is worth noting that, whereas Origen’s conception of the soul of Christ and of its relation to the divine Logos is harshly disapproved in the course of the first Origenist crisis and definitely refused from the 4th century onwards,2 his use of the notion of mixture, which he attaches to the intertwining of the soul of Christ and the Logos, is passed down to the Christian thought in the 4th century, though this specific contribution of Origen to the development of Christology is still unexplored in the scholarly literature, mostly interested in the role of the soul of Christ in the economy of the incarnation according to the Alexandrine.3 Günter Thomas (eds), Who is Jesus Christ for Us Today? Pathways to Contemporary Christology (Louisville, KY, 2009), 72-84; Morwenna Ludlow, Gregory of Nyssa, Ancient and (Post)modern (Oxford, 2007), 98-100; Andrew Radde-Gallwitz, ‘Contra Eunomium III 3’, in Johan Leemans and Matthieu Cassin (eds), Gregory of Nyssa: Contra Eunomium III. An English Translation with Commentary and Supporting Studies, Supplements to Vigiliae Christianae 124 (Leiden, 2014), 293-312; Johannes Zachhuber, ‘Gregory of Nyssa, Contra Eunomium III 4’, in J. Leemans and M. Cassin (eds), Gregory of Nyssa: Contra Eunomium III (2014), 313-34; Miguel Brugarolas, ‘Theological Remarks on Gregory of Nyssa’s Christological Language of “Mixture”’, SP 84 (2017), 39-57; Luke Steven, ‘Mixture, Beauty and the Incarnation in Gregory’s In Canticum Canticorum’, in Giulio Maspero, Ilaria Vigorelli and Miguel Brugarolas (eds), Gregory of Nyssa: In Canticum Canticorum. Analytical and Supporting Studies, Supplements to Vigiliae Christianae 150 (Leiden, 2018), 508-16. 2 In particular, this doctrine is strongly rejected in the Second Councile of Constantinople, in 553, in the anathema VII (ACO IV/1, 249.1-9); see also: Iustinian., Ep. ad Menam (ACO III, 213.17-8). A brief account on the reception of this doctrine in the first Origenist crisis is found in Alain Le Boulluec, ‘Controverses au sujet de la doctrine d’Origène sur l’âme du Christ’, in Lothar Lies (ed.), Origeniana Quarta, Innsbrucker theologische Studien 19 (Innsbruck, Wien, 1987), 223-37, particularly 228-9, 235 (notes). 3 Without claiming to be exhaustive, it is worth quoting some of the modern studies on this core aspect of Origen’s Christology: Aloisius Lieske, Die Theologie der Logosmystik bei Origenes, Münsterische Beiträge zur Theologie 22 (Münster, 1938), 119-28; Jean Daniélou, Origène (Paris, 1948), 258-64; Marguerite Harl, Origène et la fonction révélatrice du Verbe incarné (Paris, 1958), 191-204; Henri Crouzel, Origène et la «connaissance mystique», Museum Lessianum: Section Théologique 56 (Paris, 1960), 74-8; see also: id., Origène (Paris, Namur, 1984), 250-7; Matthias Eichinger, Die Verklärung Christi bei Origenes: Die Bedeutung des Menschen Jesus in seiner Christologie, Wiener Beiträge zur Theologie 23 (Wien, 1969), 26-47; Rowan Williams, ‘Origen on the Soul of Jesus’, in Richard Hanson and Henri Crouzel (eds), Origeniana Tertia (Rome, 1985), 131-7; John Nigel Rowe, Origen’s Doctrine of Subordination: A Study in Origen’s Christology, European University Studies, Series XXII: Theology 272 (Bern, Frankfurt a.M., New York, 1987), 115-56, 165-94 (notes); Rebecca Lyman, Christology and Cosmology: Models of Divine Activity in Origen, Eusebius, and Athanasius (Oxford, 1993), 74-8; Michel Fédou, La Sagesse et le monde. Essai sur la christologie d’Origène, Jésus et Jésus-Christ 64 (Paris, 1995), 311-31; Basil Studer, ‘Incarnazione’, in Adele Monaci Castagno (ed.), Origene. Dizionario: la cultura, il pensiero, le opere (Rome, 2010), 225-29; Anders-Christian Jacobsen, Christ–The

The Soul of Christ: A Contribution of Origen to the Fourth-Century Christology

9

The chief aim of this article is to investigate the Christological formulation of the philosophical category of blending in Origen with respect to his theory of the soul of Christ, of which the analytical exposition is found, as wellknown, in PA. II 6 in the Latin translation of Rufinus. In this regard, the present article will consist of three main parts. First of all, we shall put forward an assessment of the charges against Origen levelled at the opening of the first Origenist controversy, in particular the objections of Theophilus to Origen’s view of the soul of Christ, and we shall prove that Theophilus ignores that the relation of the Logos to the soul of Christ is conceived as a mixture by the Alexandrine, and misunderstands it as a substantianl unity. Secondly, we shall recall the contents of PA. II 6 with focus on how Origen intends the intertwining of the Logos and the soul of Christ, and emphasize that he employs the Stoic notion of blending. Finally, we shall consider Origen’s use of the Stoic blending in light of the philosophical debate about mixture in late antiquity, and highlight his contribution to the reception of it in the Christological speculation. 2. The misreading of Theophilus of Alexandria: the ‘substantial unity’ To begin, we shall examine the pivotal criticisms of Theophilus of Alexandria against Origen’s idea of the soul of Christ at the beginning of the V century. It is worth drawing attention to the view of Theophilus, since he raises the earliest polemic against Origen’s conception of the soul of Christ, apart from a mention of Athanasius in his Letter to Epictetus, dated to 371,4 and his reading impacts on the Christological discussions in the 5th century. He attacks Origen on the topic of the soul of Christ both in the synodal letter of 400 to the bishops of Palestine and Cyprus, passed down to us by Jerome in his epistolary as Letter 92, and in a festal letter of 402 to the bishops of Egypt, once again transmitted by Jerome as Letter 98, but partially paralleled to two Greek excerpts in Theodoret’s Dialogues.5 Teacher of Salvation: A Study on Origen’s Christology and Soteriology, Adamantiana 6 (Münster, 2015), 113-7; see Manlio Simonetti, ‘La morte di Gesù in Origene’, in id., Studi sulla cristologia del II e III secolo, Studia Ephemeridis Augustinianum 44 (Rome, 1993), 146-82, particularly 158-64 (originally published in: RSLR 8 [1972], 3-41). For an exploration of this topic also in the newly discovered homilies on the Psalms see Lorenzo Perrone, ‘Aspetti dottrinali delle nuove omelie di Origene sui Salmi: le tematiche cristologiche a confronto con il Perì archôn’, Teología y Vida 55 (2014), 209-43. 4 Athan., Ep. ad Epict. 8 (PG 26, 1064A-B). This has been evidenced by Alois Grillmeier, ‘Markos Eremites und der Origenismus: Versuch einer Neudeutung von Op. XI’, in Franz Paschke (ed.), Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen, TU 125 (Berlin, 1981), 262-3; see also: A. Le Boulluec, ‘Controverses’ (1987), 228 and 235 (n. 37). 5 Theoph. Alex., Ep. synod. II ap. Hier., Ep. 92, 1-6 (CSEL 55, 147.1-155.2). According to Agostino Favale (Teofilo d’Alessandria (345c.-412): Scritti, vita e dottrina, Biblioteca di Salesianum 41 [Turin, 1958], 112) this synodal letter is to be dated to either August or early September 400.

10

V. LIMONE

With respect to the former letter, he exposes to the bishops of Palestine and Cyprus his activities against Origenists in the Nitrian monasteries and resumes his comments on some books of Origen, for instance On First Principles, On Prayer, and On the Resurrection,6 in a seminar with the other Egyptian bishops, in which he intends to corroborate his condemnation of the Alexandrine with a careful exploration of his writings. As it has already been demonstrated by the scholars, Theophilus conveys a repertoire of criticisms against Origen which is not completely borrowed from his immediate predecessors Epiphanius and Jerome, but attests to his own contribution to the Origenist controversy.7 In particular, the majority of the charges against the Alexandrine, for example the subordination of the Son to the Father, the salvation of the devil and the demons, and the causal influence of the stars on the fore-knowledge, is not original; nevertheless, Theophilus himself formulates an objection which refers to a theory of Origen’s thought paradoxically underestimated at the time of his stay at the Nitrian monasteries.8 In fact, he accuses the Alexandrine of Theophilus appended this letter to his private epistle to Epiphanius, see: Theoph. Alex., Ep. ad Epiphanium ap. Hier., Ep. 90 (CSEL 55, 143.15-145.10), and Epiphanius sent it to Jerome in the fall of 400, together with an accompanying letter, see: Epiph., Ep. ad Hieronymum ap. Hier., Ep. 91 (CSEL 55, 145.11-146.23). A Greek fragment of a letter of Theophilus to the bishops of Palestine is preserved in Pallad., Dial. 7 (PG 47, 23-5), which may be part of the synodal letter of 400, although it has no correspondence in the Latin version, on this: A. Favale, Teofilo (1958), 14, n. 100. It is worth noting that, though we are informed in detail about the accusations of Theophilus to Origen through the synodal letter in the Latin translation of Jerome, we dispose of some Greek fragments which are from the proceedings of a synod of Alexandria, convened in late 399 or early 400, and which further attest to his anti-Origenism. In particular, three fragments are quoted in the mid-fourth century by Justinian in his Book against Origen (ACO III, 202.18-203.10), and two fragments are found in the Codex Athos, Vatopédi 236, see José Declerk, ‘Théophile d’Alexandrie contre Origène: Nouveaux fragments de l’Epistula Synodalis Prima (CPG 2595)’, Byzantion 54 (1984), 495-507 (the Greek fragments are at 503-4 and 505-6). On the anti-Origenism of Theophilus and his synodal letters see: Elizabeth A. Clark, The Origenist Controversy: The Cultural Construction of An Early Christian Debate (Princeton, 1992), 105-11; Krastu Banev, Theophilus of Alexandria and the First Origenist Controversy (Oxford, 2015), 35-41; a collection of Theophilus’ texts related to the Origenist controversy is found in Norman Russell, Theophilus of Alexandria (London, New York, 2007), 89-174 (with a detailed commentary at 191-200). The anti-Origenism of Theophilus is further documented by the homily On the Mystical Supper, dated to March 29th, 400 (PG 77, 1016B-1029B) and ascribed to Theophilus himself by Marcel Richard, ‘Une homélie de Théophile d’Alexandrie sur l’institution de l’Eucharistie’, RHE 33 (1937), 46-56 (now reprinted in: id., Opera minora II [Turnhout, 1977], 812-22). 6 For On First Principles: Theoph. Alex., Ep. synod. II ap. Hier., Ep. 92, 2; 4 (CSEL 55, 148.26; 152.15); for On Prayer: Theoph. Alex., Ep. synod. II ap. Hier., Ep. 92, 2 (CSEL 55, 149.7), which quotes: Orig., PE. XV 1 (GCS 3, 333.27-8 = Orig. II); for On the Resurrection: Theoph. Alex., Ep. synod. II ap. Hier., Ep. 92, 4 (CSEL 55, 152.2). 7 On this see Jon F. Dechow, Dogma and Mysticism in Early Christianity: Epiphanius of Cyprus and the Legacy of Origen, Patristic Monograph Series 13 (Leuven, 1988), 437; E.A. Clark, The Origenist Controversy (1992), 85-158, especially 118 and 133; M. Fédou, La Sagesse et le monde (1995), 375-84; K. Banev, Theophilus of Alexandria (2015), 45-6. 8 See: J.F. Dechow, Dogma and Mysticism (1988), 440; E.A. Clark, The Origenist Controversy (1992), 154; K. Banev, Theophilus of Alexandria (2015), 46.

The Soul of Christ: A Contribution of Origen to the Fourth-Century Christology

11

assuming, in the PA., that the incarnation of Christ implies the pre-existence of a soul that is the agent of the kenotic dynamic and, concomitantly, the difference of this soul from the divine Logos.9 In his festal letter to the bishops of Egypt, dated to 402, in which Theophilus refutes the arguments of Apollinaris and Origen, he mentions a more extensive formulation of the above criticism, which survives in the Latin version of Jerome and is further documented by a Greek fragment of Theodoret. The reasoning of Theophilus runs as follows: first, he attributes to the Alexandrine the statement: ‘As the Son and the Father are one, so too the soul which the Son assumed and the Son himself are one’, that Paul Koetschau claims as originally contained in PA. IV 4, 4;10 then, he replies that, if the Father and the Son are one, and if the Son and his soul are one, the absurd consequence is that the Father and the soul of the Son are one, and so the soul of the Son would be privileged to see the Father, and be image of it, as it results respectively from John 14:9 and Heb. 1:3.11 The view of Theophilus is that the Father and the Son share the same divinity, nature and substance, whereas the Son and his soul differ from each other in substance and nature;12 in the reading of Theophilus, in PA. Origen conceives of the Son and his pre-existent soul as one, namely, they are the same on account of their substance (οὐσία, or substantia in the Latin version) and nature (φύσις, or natura, according to Jerome). In sum, Theophilus blames Origen not only for assuming the pre-existence of the soul of Christ, that differs from the divine Logos, but especially for 9

Theoph. Alex., Ep. synod. II ap. Hier., Ep. 92, 4 (CSEL 55, 152.15-20). Orig. ap. Theoph. Alex., Ep. paschalis ap. Theodoret., Dial. II (PG 83, 197B = Flor. II, Fr. 58, 172.1-2 Ettlinger) = Hier., Ep. 98, 16 (CSEL 55, 200.5-7). See also Orig., PA. IV 4, 4 (GCS 22, 354.15-6 = Orig. V). In relation to the misinterpretation of Theophilus of this text see what Manlio Simonetti and Henri Crouzel say in Manlio Simonetti and Henri Crouzel (eds), Origène. Traité des principes IV, SC 269 (Paris, 1980), 253-4. 11 Theoph. Alex., Ep. paschalis ap. Theodoret., Dial. II (PG 83, 197B = Flor. II, Fr. 58, 172.311 Ettlinger) = Hier., Ep. 98, 16 (CSEL 55, 200.7-16). Another version of this argument, only in the Latin translation of Jerome, is found in Hier., Ep. 98, 14-15 (CSEL 55, 198.5-200.3). 12 Theophilus speakes of θεότης, οὐσία and φύσις; the Latin terminology of Jerome is respectful to this distinction, since it employs divinitas, substantia and natura. From a comparison of the texts quoted supra, n. 11, Jerome results to overlap the meanings of the aforesaid three words, see Theodoret., Dial. II: ἡ δὲ ψυχὴ καὶ ὁ υἱὸς ἑτέρα πρὸς ἑτέραν ἐστὶν οὐσία τε καὶ φύσις (PG 83, 197B = Flor. II, Fr. 58, 172.4-5 Ettlinger), and Hier., Ep. 98, 16: filium autem et animam eius diversae et multum inter se distantis esse naturae (CSEL 55, 200.8-9), and Theodoret., Dial. II: ἐπειδὴ μὴ διάφοροι θεότητες (PG 83, 197B = Flor. II, Fr. 58, 172.9 Ettlinger), and Hier., Ep. 98, 16: quia non est inter eos diversa natura (CSEL 55, 200.13-4). It is worth noting that Jerome translates with substantia both οὐσία, see Theodoret., Dial. II: ὁ μὲν υἱὸς καὶ ὁ πατὴρ ἕν εἰσι διὰ τὴν μίαν οὐσίαν καὶ τὴν αὐτὴν θεότητα (PG 83, 197B = Flor. II, Fr. 58, 172.3-4 Ettlinger) and Hier., Ep. 98, 16: patrem et filium unum esse propter communionem substantiae et eandem divinitatem (CSEL 55, 200.7-8), and ὑπόστασις, see Theodoret., Dial. II: ἡ ψυχὴ ὡς ὁ υἱός, Ἀπαύγασμα τῆς δόξης τοῦ θεοῦ, καὶ χαρακτὴρ τῆς ὑποστάσεως αὐτοῦ (Heb. 1:3) (PG 83, 197B = Flor. II, Fr. 58, 172.13-4 Ettlinger), and Hier., Ep. 98, 16: et anima salvatoris splendor gloriae et forma substantiae eius (Heb. 1:3) (CSEL 55, 200.18-9). 10

V. LIMONE

12

defining the relation of this soul to the Logos as a substantial unity. As we have already said in the premise, and as we shall point out shortly, Theophilus sees the Origenian interplay of the soul of Christ with the Logos as a substantial unity, not as a mixture, as it is evident from PA. II 6, in which the Alexandrine exposes in detail his view on this topic, and which is the subject of the next step. 3. Origen’s PA. II 6: the blending of the Logos and the soul of Christ We now turn to what Origen says about the soul of Christ in PA. II 6 of which, as stated above, we dispose in the Latin version of Rufinus, though the thesis that is outlined in this text is further documented elsewhere in the literary corpus of the Alexandrine. Without pretending to present an analytical exploration of the contents of PA. II 6, which has already been studied with attention in the scholarly literature, our purpose is to single out three core arguments that are found in this text: first, the doctrine of the pre-existence of the souls, including the soul of Christ, as response to the problem of the incarnation of God; secondly, the peculiar identity of the soul of Christ with respect to the other pre-existent souls; finally, the relation of the Logos with the soul of Christ as mixture, particularly as blending. Regards the first argument, the starting point of Origen is his attempt to formulate a rational understanding of the mystery of incarnation, namely, to harmonize the Middle Platonic principle of the bipartition of being into noetic and sensible levels,13 on the one hand, and the descent of the Logos for the sake of humankind, on the other hand.14 In relation to this problem Origen rejects the docetistic tendency of the Gnostics who consider the incarnation as the assumption of a false appearance.15 Before expressing his own opinion, Origen illustrates the characteristics of the souls in their original status as noetic creatures: the souls are primarly created by the Logos as participating in divinity and perfection, so that they are individual beings, although they are part of the Logos; nevertheless, they are also provided with the free will and are given the opportunity to decide whether to remain in their pristine state, or to turn away from their Creator, so that the less is their love for him, the more they fall away.16 Despite 13

See Orig., PA. III 6, 7 (SC 268, 250). See Orig., PA. II 6, 1-3 (SC 252, 309-16). On this ‘epistemological’ problem concerned with the incarnation of the divine Logos see Orig., PA. IV 3, 14 (SC 268, 392-6); CIo. I 4, 24 (SC 120, 72); XIII 5, 26-32 (SC 222, 46-8); XIX 9, 59 (SC 290, 84); XX 34, 304 (SC 290, 304); CMt. XIV 12 (GCS 40, 308.4-19 = Orig. 10). 15 Orig., PA. II 6, 2 (SC 252, 312); see also C.Cels. IV 19 (SC 136, 228-30); CIo. II 26, 163-6 (SC 120, 316-8); HLc. XIV 4 (SC 87, 220-2). 16 Orig., PA. II 6, 3 (SC 252, 314). This theory is rejected in the first anathema of Justinian’s edict against Origen, dated to 543 (see ACO III, 213.13-6); additionally, it is condemned in the 14

The Soul of Christ: A Contribution of Origen to the Fourth-Century Christology

13

the hypothetical nuance in which Origen formulates this thesis,17 this is the speculative basis of his reasoning about the soul of Christ: the Alexandrine believes that among all the souls there existed also the soul of Christ, namely, that soul of which Jesus says: ‘No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord’ (John 10:18), and that, if it is impossible for the Logos to incarnate, since this act would violate the afore-mentioned Middle Platonic principle, then the soul of Christ serves as ‘mediator’ (substantia media) between the divine Logos and the human nature.18 Given that the formula ab initio creaturae, which occurs in this passage, is not a sufficient clue for this argument,19 that is, the correlation between the pre-existence of the souls and the soul of Christ, we might deduce it from at least the following three data: first, this correlation is further documented in some passages in the Greek first anathema of the Second Council of Constantinople in 553 (ACO IV/1, 248.3-4). A collection of these texts is found in Herwig Görgemanns and Heinrich Karpp (eds), Origenes: Vier Bücher von den Principien (Darmstadt, 1976), 822-31. 17 See Orig., PA. II 6, 2 (SC 252, 314). On this see M. Simonetti, ‘La morte di Gesù’ (1993), 161. The doctrine of the pre-existence of the souls has attracted the attention of many scholars, and it is still a controversial topic of discussion; on this we just mention Giulia Sfameni Gasparro, ‘Doppia creazione e peccato di Adamo nel Peri Archon di Origene: fondamenti biblici e presupposti platonici dell’esegesi origeniana’, in Ugo Bianchi (ed.), La ‘doppia creazione’ dell’uomo negli Alessandrini, nei Cappadoci e nella gnosi, Nuovi Saggi 70 (Rome, 1978), 43-83 (now reprint in: ead., Origene. Studi di antropologia e di storia della tradizione [Rome, 1984], 101-38); ead., ‘Restaurazione dell’immagine del celeste e abbandono dell’immagine del terrestre nella prospettiva origeniana della doppia creazione’, in Ugo Bianchi and Henri Crouzel (eds), Arché e Telos. L’antropologia di Origene e di Gregorio di Nissa: Analisi storico-religiosa, Studia Patristica Mediolanensia 12 (Milan, 1981), 231-66 (now reprint in: ead., Origene [1984], 157-92); Marguerite Harl, ‘La préxistence des âmes dans l’œuvre d’Origène’, in L. Lies (ed.), Origeniana Quarta (1987), 238-58; ead., ‘Recherches sur l’origénisme d’Origène: la «satieté» (κόρος) de la contemplation comme motif de la chute des âmes’, SP 8 (1966), 373-405; see also Ilaria Ramelli, ‘Preexistence of Souls? The ἀρχή and τέλος of Rational Creatures in Origen and Some Origenians’, SP 56 (2013), 167-226; Peter Martens, ‘Embodiment, Heresy, and the Hellenization of Christianity: The Descent of the Soul in Plato and Origen’, JTS 108/4 (2015), 594-620. Mark Edwards has proved that Origen does not ascribe the union of soul and body to a transgression of a preexistent soul, see ‘Origen no Gnostic; or, on the Corporeality of Man’, JTS 43 (1992), 23-37; id., Origen against Plato (Aldershot, 2002), 89-97, 160. 18 Orig., PA. II 6, 3 (SC 252, 314-6). See also PA. I 1, 7 (SC 252, 104-6); II 8, 1 (SC 252, 336-8); II 10, 7 (SC 252, 390-2); IV 4, 9-10 (SC 268, 422-8). This conception of the soul reminds us of Plato’s Timaeus (35A). Rufinus employs the term deus-homo, which might be the Latin translation of θεάνθρωπος; on this see what Manlio Simonetti and Henri Crouzel say in Manlio Simonetti and Henri Crouzel (eds), Origène. Traité des principes III, SC 253 (Paris, 1978), 175, n. 18. 19 As it has been stressed by Mark Edwards in Origen against Plato (2002), 94, and id., ‘Origen’s Platonism. Questions and Caveats’, ZAC 12 (2008), 34 (now reprint in: John D. Turner and Kevin Corrigan [eds], Plato’s Parmenides and Its Heritage. II, Writings from the Greco-Roman World: Supplement Series 3 [Atlanta, 2010], 212). On the contrary, Peter Martens (‘Embodiment’ [2015], 614, n. 74) argues that, if we see this formula isolated from the context, it is not a sufficient clue for the doctrine of the pre-existence of the soul of Christ, but in light of the context it proves to refer to this doctrine.

14

V. LIMONE

extant texts of Origen, for instance from his Commentary on the Gospel of John;20 secondly, if we compare the Latin translation of Rufinus of a passage in PA. II 6, 3 with the corresponding version of Jerome in his epistle to Avitus (= n. 124), we are led to suppose that the original Greek text contained a reference to the pre-existence of the souls which Rufinus overshadows and Jerome preserves;21 finally, in the passage in which Origen speaks of the unity of the Logos and the soul of Christ, Rufinus applies to this unity the adverb principaliter which translates the Greek word προηγουμένως, as documented in other passages in the PA. that we can compare with the Greek text, and which Origen frequently employs in relation to the prelapsarian status of the soul.22 In synthesis, as it is evidenced in PA. II 6, for Origen the pre-existence of the souls and the soul of Christ are correlative. The second argument of Origen’s discourse concerns the peculiar identity of the soul of Christ. The Alexandrine notices that, assuming the noetic existence of the souls in their prelapsarian status, the only soul which remains in an unbreakable love for the Logos is the soul of Christ: likewise the other souls, also the soul of Christ is created perfect and endowed with free will; nevertheless, it is the only soul whose free desire for the unity with the Logos has become nature. It is worth noting that this formulation, which reminds us of a passage from Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics (1114A), is applied elsewhere by

20 Orig., CIo. I 32, 231 (SC 120, 172-3); XX 19, 162 (SC 290, 234-6); XX 36, 335 (SC 290, 320-2); XXXII 25, 326 (SC 385, 326). See also C.Cels. III 41 (SC 136, 94-8); V 39 (SC 147, 116-20). 21 The text in Jerome is: Orig. ap. Hier., Ep. 124, 6: Nulla alia anima, quae ad corpus descendit humanum, puram et germanam similitudinem signi in se prioris expressit, nisi illa, de qua salvator loquitur: ‘Nemo tollit animam meam a me, sed ego ponam eam a me ipso’ (John 10:18) (CSEL 56, 103.12-6). This comparison is defended by Manlio Simonetti in id. and H. Crouzel (eds), Origène. Traité des principes III (1978), 174 and 175, n. 15; see also: Samuel Fernández (ed.), Orígenes. Sobre los principios, Fuentes Patrísticas 27 (Madrid, 2015), 420 (ad loc.). 22 Orig., PA. II 6, 3 (SC 252, 314, line 104). For the translation of principaliter in the PA. see: PA. IV 2, 7 (SC 268, 330); IV 2, 9 (SC 268, 336). This hypothesis is defended by Samuel Fernández in S. Fernández (ed.), Orígenes (2015), 421, n. 25. The term προηγούμενος, which is attested in the ancient philosophical vocabulary, is used by Origen with the meaning of ‘primary’, originated from the physical field; on this: Michelangelo Giusta, ‘Sul significato filosofico del termine προηγούμενος’, Annali della Accademia delle Scienze di Torino 96 (1961-1962), 229-71, and Alberto Grilli, ‘Contributo alla storia di προηγούμενος’, in Studi linguistici in onore di Vittore Pisani I (Brescia, 1969), 409-99, in particular 421-4, wherein the scholar mentions the following cases: Orig., Ps. Sel.1/2,3 (PG 12, 1089B-C) = SVF II 1156 (333.21-4 Arnim – only in part); C.Cels. IV 74 (SC 136, 368) = SVF II 1157 (333.25-36 Arnim). As Eugenio Corsini has already pointed out, this meaning is very frequent in Origen’s Commentary on the Gospel of John, for instance CIo. I 28, 195 (SC 120, 156) – see Eugenio Corsini (ed.), Origene. Commento al Vangelo di Giovanni (Turin, 1968), 172, n. 56. It is worth noting that this meaning is also to be accompanied by the meaning of ‘voluntary’, originated from the ethical field, for instance CIo. XXXII 3, 35 (SC 385, 202). The couple of προηγούμενος and ἐπακολουθητική is found in Alex. Aphrod., De fat. 11 (CAG Suppl. 2/2, 178.13).

The Soul of Christ: A Contribution of Origen to the Fourth-Century Christology

15

Origen to the free desire of the Antichrist for the wickedness, that is, for the separation from the Logos.23 The third and last point of Origen’s exploration of the soul of Christ has to do with the unity of the Logos and the soul of Christ. As said above, the soul of Christ plays a key role in mediating the divine and the human natures; the consequence of this is that the properties of the former are predicated of the latter, and the properties of the latter are predicated of the former, even if the natures are not confused, for instance it is only the human soul that suffers, not the Logos, as it results from John 12:27: ‘Now my soul is troubled’.24 This view was so intended as an anticipation of the so called ‘communication of idioms’ that circulated in the first half of the V century under the name of Basil of Caesarea.25 What is particularly interesting in this argument is a similitude which Origen uses in order to further elucidate his conception of the relation of the Logos and the soul of Christ. Besides the fact that, in the course of PA. II 6, this relation is expressed with a nuptial terminology,26 Origen believes that the union of the Logos and the soul of Christ is to be assimilated to the relation between the iron and the fire: if a mass of iron is kept constantly in the fire, receiving the heat through all itself, the fire being continous and the 23 Orig., PA. II 6, 5 (SC 252, 320). The Latin translation of Rufinus: versum […] in naturam is a periphrasis for the Greek: πεφυσιωμένον, which occurs in CIo. XX 21, 174 (SC 290, 242) with respect to the will of the Antichrist. As it has already been demonstrated by Cécile Blanc in Cécile Blanc (ed.), Origène. Commentaire sur Saint Jean, SC 290 (Paris, 1982), 242 and 243, n. 1, ad loc., an earlier occurrence of the verb φυσιοῦται, in a meaning similar to that of Origen, is found in Clement, see Clem. Alex., Strom. VII 7, 46, 9 (SC 428, 160). Origen uses this term in some circumstances: C.Cels. III 69 (SC 136, 156); CMt. XIII 16 (GCS 40, 222.18-9 = Orig. X); FrMt. 261 (GCS 41, 120 = Orig. XII); see also: PA. I 6, 3 (SC 252, 202). The reference to the Aristotelian text has been underscored by Adele Monaci Castagno in Adele Monaci Castagno, ‘Diavolo’, in ead., Origene. Dizionario (2010), 117. 24 This is not explicitly expressed in PA. II 6, but it is evidenced in some passages in the Origenian corpus, for instance: Orig., HIer. XIV 6 (SC 238, 78-80); C.Cels. II 9 (SC 132, 300-6); VI 47 (SC 147, 296-8) – with respect to Joh. 12:27; CIo. XIX 2, 6-11 (SC 290, 48-50). 25 This is documented by the occurrence of two excerpts from PA. II 6 in two florilegia dated to the 5th and 6th centuries, in particular in the epistle 104 of Pope Leo the Great (ACO II/4, 125.19) and in the Collectio Novarensis (ACO IV/2, 95.25-32). Passages from PA. II 6 are also found in some homilies, attributed to Basil of Caesarea and preserved in the Latin translation of Rufinus, passed down to us in the ms. Parisinus Latinus 10593, dated to the 6th-7th centuries; on this see Marcel Richard, ‘Testimonia sancti Basilii’, RHE 33 (1937), 794-6; David Amand, ‘Une ancienne version latine inédite de deux homélies de Saint Basile’, RBen 57 (1947), 12-81; Giulia Sfameni Gasparro, ‘Ps.-Basilio, De incarnatione Domini e Ps.-Agostino, De incarnatione Verbi ad Ianuarium, ovvero la traduzione rufiniana del Peri Archon di Origene auctoritas nelle controversie cristologiche e trinitarie del V-VI secolo’, SP 19 (1987), 154-65 (now reprinted, in a more extensive version, in ead., Origene e la tradizione origeniana in Occidente. Letture storico-religiose, Biblioteca di Scienze Religiose 142 [Rome, 1998], 55-95). 26 See Orig., PA. II 6, 3 (SC 252, 316). The application of this terminology to the relation of the Logos and the soul of Christ is corroborated by a reference in FrCant. 54 (238-40 Barbàra). On this see what Samuel Fernández says in S. Fernández (ed.), Orígenes (2015), 425, n. 33.

V. LIMONE

16

iron never removed from it, the iron becomes so united with the fire that, if we try to touch or handle the iron, we experience the action not of iron, but of fire; at the same time, the interplay of the Logos with the soul of Christ is such that the soul, incessantly heated by the desire for the Logos, becomes wholly converted into the Logos and possesses immutability from this union.27 To sum up, as the fire and the iron generate a new compound and share their properties, if the iron is kept in the fire, though they maintain different nature, so the Logos and the soul of Christ bring about a new being in which they are one and two, at the same time.28 These details lead us to reassess the above reading of Theophilus: he understands the Origenian relation of the divine Logos and the soul of Christ, as exposed in PA. II 6, as a ‘substantial unity’, whereas the text of the Alexandrine is explicit about a sort of union in which the two constituents interpenetrate each other and, nonetheless, are still indipendent. Additionally, Origen’s similitude of the iron and the fire is not casual: it was used by the Stoics in regard to a particular kind of mixture, and it was known to the philosophical debate in late antiquity. Therefore, a focus on the reception of the philosophical category of mixture, the blending, in the early empire contributes to a better understanding of the Christological use of it in Origen. 4. Philosophers on blending in late antiquity: Alexander and Plotinus As said above, the purpose of this paragraph is to consider Origen’s use of the simile of the heated iron and of the philosophical category of blending, which is conveyed by this simile, in light of the discussion about the Stoic doctrine of mixture in late antiquity. This overview will lead us to see how the Alexandrine incorporates the Stoic notion of blending in his Christology and, moreover, how he contributes to the reception of this notion in the late antique thought. Without any intention to be exhaustive, after a short mention of the classification of the different kinds of mixture ascribed to the Stoics in antiquity, which involves the traditional definition of blending, we shall cite the reactions 27

Orig., PA. II 6, 6 (SC 252, 320-2). If we compare the passage in the Latin translation of Rufinus in Orig., PA. II 6, 4 (SC 252, 316, lines 135-41) with a parallel Greek fragment preserved by Justinian, see Iustinian., Ep. ad Menam (ACO III, 210.16-20 = GCS 22, 143.18-23 = Orig. V), we notice that the soul of Christ is defined as μηδέποτε κεχωρισμένον in relation to the Logos. As demonstred elsewhere, see Vito Limone, ‘Il contributo di Origene alla storia dell’uso di “ipostasi” nella teologia cristiana’, CrSt 40 (2019), 241-2, the word κεχωρισμένος is originated from the Aristotelian lexicon, see Aristot., Metaph. Δ 1017B.23-6, and the Alexandrine proves to be acquainted with this meaning, see Orig., CIo. I 24, 151-2 (SC 120, 136-8). As for Aristotle κεχωρισμένος is to be applied to an individual compound of form and matter, so for Origen it denotes the compound of the Logos and the soul of Christ, in which the Logos plays the role of the form and the soul of Christ that of the matter. 28

The Soul of Christ: A Contribution of Origen to the Fourth-Century Christology

17

to the Stoic blending of two well-known schoolmasters contemporary to Origen, namely, the Peripatetic Alexander of Aphrodisias and the Platonist Plotinus. Since a thorough investigation of the responses of Alexander and Plotinus against the Stoic blending would far exceed the goals of this research – and it has already been carried out over the past years –, we shall refer to their main arguments. First of all, although our main source of information about the Stoic theory of mixture is a repertoire of later authors, their claims are trustable, since they are confirmed by some excerpts from Chrysippus.29 Except for a few minor differences, both the early imperial doxographer Arius Didymus, passed down to us by the Byzantine Stobaeus, and Alexander of Aphrodisias in his treatise On mixture attest to a trichotomy of mixture, originated from the Old Stoa.30 In particular, the Stoics identify three main kinds of mixture: first, the justaposition (παράθεσις), namely, the contact of bodies at their surfaces, in which the differences and the individual identities of the bodies are preserved and the whole is an aggregate, and which happens, for example, with the heaps of wheat grain; then, the fusion (σύγχυσις), that is, the transformation of the constituents into a new product, as it happens with the medical drugs, in which the properties and the individual identities of the bodies are destroyed and gives existence to a compound, provided with a new identity and new properties; finally, the blending (κρᾶσις), namely, a mixture in which, although the constituents interpenetrate each other so that they bring about a new compound, they preserve their properties and their individual identities and they are separable from the compound itself, as it happens with a mass of iron kept in the fire.31 This example is systematically applied to the third species of mixture, 29 The main texts about this topic are collected in SVF II 463-81 (151.8-158.13 Arnim). We dispose of a large number of studies on this topic; the most significant are the following: Robert B. Todd, Alexander of Aphrodisias on Stoic Physics: A Study of the “De mixtione” with Preliminary Essays, Text, Translation and Commentary, PhA 28 (Leiden, 1976), 1-107; Richard Sorabji, Matter, Space and Motion: Theories in Antiquity and Their Sequel (London, 1988), 79-105; see also David Sedley, ‘Hellenistic Physics and Metaphysics’, in Keimpe Algra, Jonathan Barnes, Jaap Mansfeld and Malcolm Schofield (eds), The Cambridge History of Hellenistic Philosophy (Cambridge, 1999), 355-411; Michael J. White, ‘Stoic Natural Philosophy (Physics and Cosmology)’, in Brad Inwood (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Stoics (Cambridge, 2003), 124-52, particularly 146-51. See also Inna Kupreeva, ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias on Mixture and Growth’, OSAP 27 (2004), 297-334. For the excerpts of Chrysippus see Chrysipp. ap. Diog. Laërt., Vit. philos. VII 151 (534.5-8 Marcovich) = SVF II 479 (157.36-9 Arnim), and Chrysipp. ap. Plutarch., De com. not. 37 = Moral. 1078E (102 Casevitz/Babut) = SVF II 480 (157.40-158.2). 30 For instance, Alexander treats μίξις and κρᾶσις as synonyms, and applies them to all kinds of bodies, whereas Arius Didymus distinguishes them and applies the κρᾶσις only to the moist bodies; on this: Alex. Aphrod., De mixt. 3 (CAG Suppl. 2/2, 216.25-217.2) = SVF II 473 (154.1928 Arnim). 31 See Arius Didym. ap. Stob., Anth. I 17, 4 (153.23-155.15 Wachsmuth) = Fr. 28 (463.14464.8 Diels) = SVF II 417 (152.31-153.26 Arnim), and Alex. Aphrod., De mixt. 3-4 (CAG Suppl. 2/2, 216.14-218.10) = SVF II 473 (154.6-155.40 Arnim). The case of the mass of iron kept in the

18

V. LIMONE

that is, the blending, generally together with the cases of the soul and the body, or of a drop of wine and water.32 It is worth emphasizing that, since Origen uses the image of the heated iron to signify the Christological nexus between the soul of Christ and the Logos, he proves to conceive of this nexus as a blending, that is, an intepenetration of the soul of Christ and the Logos in which the compound of both is generated, though both the soul of Christ and the Logos are still discernible and preserve their individual properties. What will be clear in due course is that the Alexandrine does not replicate the Stoic paradigm in his Christology, but he expands it in line with the late antique discussion on the Stoic blending. As said above, a key role in Origen’s reassessment of the Stoic ideas is played by Alexander and Plotinus. With respect to Alexander, since his interpretation of Aristotle impacts both on Plotinus33 and Origen,34 we expect that also his conception of the mixture is very influencial on them. It is worth recalling two objections that Alexander puts forward to the Stoic theory of blending. First, he disagrees with the Stoics who apply the blending only to bodies, and are persuaded that this species of mixture includes the complete coextension of the ingredient volumes: for Alexander, if we accept this Stoic notion of blending, we are led to some inconsistencies, e.g. the existence of the void, the total pervasion of the ingredient volumes without any increase or decrease of them.35 Secondly, he contests the Stoic difference between fusion and blending: he argues that, if the blending

fire is found in Arius Didym. ap. Stob., Anth. I 17, 4 (154.16-7 Wachsmuth) = Fr. 28 (463.25-6 Diels) = SVF II 417 (153.8 Arnim); Alex. Aphrod., De mixt. 4 (CAG Suppl. 2/2, 218.1-2) = SVF II 473 (155.30-1 Arnim). This trichotomy is also documented in Phil. Alex., De conf. ling. 184-7 (146-8 Kahn) = SVF II 472 (153.27-154.5 Arnim). 32 For the soul and the body: Arius Didym. ap. Stob., Anth. I 17, 4 (155.1-2 Wachsmuth) = Fr. 28 (463.31-2 Diels) = SVF II 471 (153.15 Arnim); Alex. Aphrod., De mixt. 4 (CAG Suppl. 2/2, 217.32-5) = SVF II 473 (155.24-9 Arnim); for a drop of wine and the water: Arius Didym. ap. Stob., Anth. I 17, 4 (155.4-5; 155.8-11 Wachsmuth) = Fr. 28 (464.1-2; 464.4-6 Diels) = SVF II 471 (153.17-8; 153.21-3 Arnim); Alex. Aphrod., De mixt. 4 (CAG Suppl. 2/2, 217.312) = SVF II 473 (155.23.24 Arnim); Phil. Alex., De conf. ling. 186 (146-8 Kahn) = SVF II 472 (153.37-9 Arnim); see also the excerpts from Chrysippus quoted supra, n. 29. 33 Porphyrius informs us that the writings of Alexander were studied at the Roman school of Plotinus, see Porph., Vit. Plot. 14 (I, 17 Henry/Schwyzer). An extensive exploration of the influence of Alexander on Plotinus is found in Philip Merlan, Monopsychism, Mysticism, Metaconsciousness. Problems of the Soul in the Neoaristotelian and Neoplatonic Tradition, International Archives of the History of Ideas 2 (The Hague, 1963), 17-52. 34 Over the past years scholars have demonstrated many similarities between Origen and Alexander, see Ronald E. Heine, ‘The Introduction to Origen’s Commentary on John Compared with the Introductions to the Ancient Philosophical Commentaries on Aristotle’, in Alain Le Boulluec (ed.), Origeniana Sexta, BEThL 118 (Leuven, 1995), 3-12; Ilaria Ramelli, ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias: A Source of Origen’s Philosophy’, Philosophie antique 14 (2014), 237-89; Mark Edwards, Aristotle and Early Christian Thought (London, New York, 2019), 46-54. 35 Alex. Aphrod., De mixt. 6 (CAG Suppl. 2/2, 219.22-7 and 219.28-220.2). On this see I. Kupreeva, ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias on Mixture’ (2004), 298-312.

The Soul of Christ: A Contribution of Origen to the Fourth-Century Christology

19

is an aggregation of constituents which generates a compound with a new identity and new properties, then this process necessarily entails an alteration of the individual identities and properties of the constituents and, therefore, this process is not to be differentied from that of fusion.36 In this regard, Alexander dwells on the Stoic simile of the heated iron and formulates two pivotal criticisms. As said above, the Stoics claim the case of the heated iron as a good instantiation of blending: as in blending the ingredients interpenetrate each other, so that they preserve their individual identities and properties and, at the same time, generate a new compound, so, if the fire kindles the iron, their blending is such that the materials of which they consist are unaltered, but they give existence to a third individual, the heated iron.37 Alexander replies to this thesis: combustion causes the material loss of ingredients involved in it; this phenomenon is sometimes more evident, for example in the case of burning wood; then, though we have the impression that the iron is not consumed by the fire due to the material constitution of the iron, some of the heated iron does in fact get destroyed.38 The next point that Alexander discusses has to do with the question whether the individuals which are involved in the combustion preserve their identities: the Stoics believe that, for instance, the fire which is used to kindle the iron is identical with the fire which resides in the heated iron after it has been kindled; on the contrary, Alexander argues that the fire which is used to burn the iron is not the same as the fire which is blended with it, since the former is individuated by a matter, for example, the charcoal, the latter by another matter, namely, iron.39 In sum, Alexander evidences that, as far as the Stoic notion of blending is applied to bodies, it is subject to many aporias. In relation to Plotinus, a discussion about the Stoic theory of mixture is found in treatise 2 (Enn. IV 7), On the Immortality of the Soul, and in treatise 37 (Enn. II 7), On Total Blending. We shall focus on his view on the Stoic blending in Enn. IV 7 [2], 82, which belongs to the section of the treatise 2 passed down 36 See Alex. Aphrod., De mixt. 7 (CAG Suppl. 2/2, 221.15-20; 221.29-37); see also De anim. (CAG Suppl. 2/1, 11.17-20). On this see what Robert Sharples says in Robert Sharples (ed.), Alexander of Aphrodisias. Supplement to the Soul (London, 2004), 50, n. 139. This habit to overlap the Stoic blending with the fusion is also found in other sources: Plutarch., De com. not. 40 = Moral. 1081A (107 Casevitz/Babut); Ps.-Galen., De qual. inc. 11 (470-1 Kühn [= Galen. XIX] = 134-51 Giusta). 37 This example is quoted by the Stoic Hierocles, almost contemporary to Alexander: Hierocl., Elem. eth. IV.3-10 (10 Ramelli/Konstan). With respect to the criticisms of Alexander to this Stoic example see I. Kupreeva, ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias on Mixture’ (2004), 305-8; see also Valérie Cordonier, ‘Du moyen platonisme au néoplatonisme: Sources et posterité des arguments d’Alexandre d’Aphrodise contre la doctrine stoïcienne des mélanges’, in Thomas Bénatouïl, Emanuele Maffi and Franco Trabattoni (eds), Plato, Aristotle, or Both? Dialogues between Platonism and Aristotelianism in Antiquity, Europaea Memoria 85 (Hildesheim, Zürich, New York, 2011), 95-117. 38 Alex. Aphrod., De mixt. 9 (CAG Suppl. 2/2, 222.35-223.6). 39 Alex. Aphrod., De mixt. 12 (CAG Suppl. 2/2, 227.26-228.6).

20

V. LIMONE

to us by Eusebius and the mss JMV, and in which he wonders whether the Stoic notion of blending might be applied to the unity of soul and body.40 In this passage Plotinus resumes some arguments which he derives from his sources, but he also reformulates this philosophical material and adds his own original contribution to the reception of the Stoic blending in late antiquity.41 We shall recall the contents of this passage in light of the research carried out hitherto. The argumentation of Plotinus in Enn. IV 7 [2], 82 runs as follows. His starting point is whether the relation of soul and body is to be conceived as a blending. In regard to this question Plotinus considers two options. On one side, if we agree with Aristotle (De gen. et. corr. A 10, 327B.23-32), Plotinus says, blending is the mixture in which the ingredients generate a compound and, nonetheless, persist in the state of potentiality; on the basis of this Aristotelian definition of blending, Plotinus states that the relation of soul and body is not to be interpreted as blending, because the soul is the actuality of the body, as Aristotle himself claims (De an. B 1, 412A), and concludes that this sort of blending, which pertains to bodies, is not to be applied to the soul-body relation.42 On the other side, if we understand, Plotinus goes on, blending as the mixture in which the ingredients interpenetrate each other, bring about a compound and, nevertheless, preserve their individual identities and properties, we encounter many aporias;43 in light of this Stoic definition of blending, Plotinus claims that the blending is not to be applied to bodies, but only to ingredients of different natures, for example the body and the soul, which is incorporeal. In synthesis, the objective of Plotinus is to see whether the category of blending is to be applied to the soul-body relation; in this regard, he is aware 40 Plot., Enn. IV 7 [2], 82 (II, 151-2 Henry/Schwyzer). A detailed study of this section is found in Riccardo Chiaradonna, ‘L’anima e la mistione stoica. Enn. IV 7 [2], 82’, in id. (ed.), Studi sull’anima in Plotino, Elenchos 42 (Naples, 2005), 129-47. We shall consider the results of this analysis in light of the research exposed here. 41 According to Heinrich Dörrie, the section Enn. IV 7 [2], 1-85 is the reassessment of some arguments exposed in a Middle Platonic handbook in favor of the incorporeality of the soul in contrast with the Stoic conception of the soul as a corporeal nature, see Heinrich Dörrie, Porphyrios’ ‘Symmikta Zetemata’: Ihre Stellung in System und Geschichte des Neuplatonismus nebst einem Kommentar zu den Fragmenten, Zetemata 20 (München, 1959), 24-35. On the original use of Plotinus of the philosophical material in this passage see R. Chiaradonna, ‘L’anima e la mistione stoica’ (2005), 132-5. 42 For Plotinus, if we intend blending as the mixture in which the ingredients give existence to a compound and persist in the state of potentiality, and if we apply this species of mixture to the soul-body relation, the soul, which is actuality by nature, gets destroyed in the blending with the body. This argument is similar to what Alexander says about blending: if the ingredients lose their individual identities in blending, there is no difference between blending and fusion, see supra, n. 26. On this similarity see Émile Bréhier (ed.), Plotin. Ennéades IV (Paris, 1964), 182. R. Chiaradonna (‘L’anima e la mistione stoica’ [2005], 139-40) has evidenced that, at this stage, Plotinus presents an ‘Aristotelizing’ interpretation of the blending. 43 The aporias formulated by Plotinus are attested also in Alexander, see R. Chiaradonna, ‘L’anima e la mistione stoica’ (2005), 143-4.

The Soul of Christ: A Contribution of Origen to the Fourth-Century Christology

21

of two theories of blending, Aristotelian and Stoic, and argues that the former, which considers the blending as aggregation of ingredients in which they persist in the state of potentiality does not pertain to the soul-body relation, for the soul is actuality of the body, whereas the latter, which understands blending as union in which the constituents generate a compound without being destroyed, pertains to the soul-body relation, only on condition that the soul is assumed to be incorporeal. Thus, Plotinus means that the Stoic theory of blending may be applied not to bodies, but to ingredients of different natures, e.g. corporeal and incorporeal, as in the case of the soul-body relation. It is worth stressing out that Plotinus believes that this species of mixture may be applied also to the incorporeals, and he intends the relation between the immaterial things, such as the Intellect and the intelligibles, as a form of blending.44 In conclusion, the understanding of Alexander and Plotinus of the Stoic category of blending sheds light on the use of Origen of this species of mixture and his application in the Christology. As said above, Alexander refuses that the Stoic blending is to be attributed to bodies, as it is demonstrated by the example of the heated iron; following Alexander, Plotinus is persuaded that the Stoic blending is not to be referred to bodies, but only to things of different natures, for example corporeal and incorporeal, as it is evident from the case of the soul-body relation, or to the incorporeal beings, for example the Intellect and the intelligibles. Origen endorses the criticisms of Alexander and Plotinus against the Stoic view on blending, and employs this philosophical category and the corresponding simile of the heated iron with respect to incorporeal things, namely, the soul of Christ and the Logos.45 It is worth noting that this union of the soul of Christ and the Logos, in which the constituents generate a compound and, nevertheless, persist in their individual identities, is a prefiguration of the so called ‘union without confusion’ (ἀσύγχυτος ἕνωσις), the formulation 44

Plot., Enn. I 8 [51], 2 (I, 109 Henry/Schwyzer). Ilaria Ramelli (‘Alexander of Aphrodisias’ [2014], 259-60; see also M. Edwards, Aristotle and Early Christian Thought [2019], 52) is persuaded that Origen uses the simile of the heated iron in order to underline that, as in this simile the fire prevails over the iron, so the Logos prevails over the soul of Christ, and bases her thesis on the premises that a) the Stoics consider the blending, which is instantiated by the case of the heated iron, as the mixture in which there is no prevalence of one ingredient over the others, and b) Alexander, whom Origen agrees with, discusses the case of the heated iron with the aim to prove that the fire prevails over the iron and, thus, the Stoic conception of blending is not to be upheld. As stressed out in paragraph 4.), our view is that Alexander’s criticisms against the Stoic reference to the phenomenon of the heated iron is to demonstrate that the Stoic category of blending is not to be applied to the bodies. In addition, the fact that some passages of Origen’s PA. II 6 were regarded in the 5th and 6th centuries as anticipation of the so called ‘communication of idioms’, as mentioned in paragraph 3.) (see supra, n. 25), suggests that Origen’s PA. II 6 was perceived as a cogent evidence of the equivalence of the soul of Christ and the divine Logos in the later Christological controversies. 45

V. LIMONE

22

of which is traditionally ascribed to Porphyry’s Symmikta Zetemata46 and which impacts on the Chalcedonian creed.47 5. Conclusions On the basis of the data so far collected, we can now draw three main conclusions. First, the philosophical debate in late antiquity devotes a particular attention to the Stoic notion of blending, instantiated by the case of the heated iron, as it is well documented in the writings of Alexander and Plotinus. As it results from the criticisms put forward by Alexander and Plotinus against the Stoics, the blending, namely, the aggregation in which the ingredients bring about a compound and preserve their individual identities and properties, is not to be applied to the bodies, but only to beings of different natures, corporeal and incorporeal, or to incorporeal beings. Secondly, as it is evident from PA. II 6, Origen uses the philosophical category of blending and the corresponding simile of the heated iron in relation to the union of the soul of Christ and the divine Logos. Following the view that the Stoic blending is not to be applied only to corporeal things, he attaches this category to the incoporeal soul of Christ and Logos, and understands the union of them as an interpenetration in which the ingredients generate a new compound and, nonetheless, preserve their individual properties and identities. This incorporation of Origen of the philosophical idea of blending in the mixture of the soul of Christ and the Logos plays a key role in the 4th century in the Christological debate about the intertwining of the divine and human natures of Jesus Christ. Finally, as it is demonstrated by the charges of Theophilus against Origen’s Christology, the doctrine of the Alexandrine about the relation of the soul of Christ and the Logos is one of the most controversial points in the first Origenist crisis. Nonetheless, Theophilus misinterprets the Origenian relationship of the soul of Christ and the Logos, which the Alexandrine intends as blending, and understands it as a substantial unity.

46

The texts which are attributed to Porphyry’s Zymmikta Zetemata are collected in Andrew Smith (ed.), Porphyrii Philosophi Fragmenta (Stuttgart, 1993), 278-91 (= T 256-61). See H. Dörrie, Porphyrios’ ‘Symmikta Zetemata’ (1959). A reassessment of the view of Heinrich Dörrie is found in John Rist, ‘Pseudo-Ammonius and the Soul/Body Problem in Some Platonic Texts of Late Antiquity’, AJPh 109 (1988), 402-15. 47 See Luise Abramowski, ‘Synapheia und asynkytos henosis als Bezeichnungen für trinitarische und christologische Einheit’, in ead., Drei christologische Untersuchungen (Berlin, 1981), 63-109.

Christology in the Pastoral Theology of Athanasius of Alexandria David M. GWYNN, Royal Holloway, London, UK

ABSTRACT Traditional interpretations of Athanasius of Alexandria’s Christology have focused on his great doctrinal treatises, particularly the Contra Gentes – De Incarnatione and the various works against ‘Arianism’. Judged by the standards of later generations, these writings have often been found lacking in technical precision and terminology. Athanasius, however, was not an academic scholar. He composed his theology in the midst of the fourth-century Trinitarian controversies, and the issues at stake were fundamental for all Christians not just for bishops and intellectuals. More recent scholarship has rightly emphasised that to understand Athanasius’ Christological vision we must look beyond the treatises to also consider his wider pastoral writings, above all the Festal Letters. As this article will discuss, in his Easter epistles Athanasius presented the same essential Christology reformulated for a general audience. Throughout his long episcopate, Athanasius never lost sight of the significance of the fourth-century controversies for everyday Christian life, and it is that pastoral concern that shaped his Christological teachings in the Festal Letters and elsewhere. The article will draw upon the new translation and commentary for the Festal Letters that is currently under preparation by David Brakke and David M. Gwynn for publication in the Liverpool University Press Translated Texts series.

The last few decades have witnessed an overdue re-evaluation of the Christology of Athanasius of Alexandria. Older scholarship focused primarily on Athanasius’ great doctrinal treatises, particularly the Contra Gentes – De Incarnatione and the anti-‘Arian’ writings, which were read against the backdrop of the fifth-century Christological controversies. Judged by later standards, Athanasius’ treatises were found lacking in technical precision and terminology. He was said to proclaim a ‘spacesuit’ Christology, in which the divine Word puts on His human body like a suit and does not share in the body’s experiences.1 More recent scholarship has rightly highlighted the limitations of 1 The ‘spacesuit’ analogy comes from Richard P.C. Hanson, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God: The Arian Controversy 318-381 (Edinburgh, 1988), 448. Alois Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition, vol. 1: From the Apostolic Age to Chalcedon (451), 2nd revised ed., trans. John Bowden (Oxford, 1975), similarly argued that Athanasius reduced Christ’s human body to a tool fashioned by the Word for His use. See further the comments of Khaled Anatolios, Athanasius: The Coherence of His Thought (London, New York, 1998), 70-3.

Studia Patristica CXII, 23-31. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

24

D.M. GWYNN

such an anachronistic viewpoint. Athanasius emphasised both the divinity and the humanity of the incarnate Christ, and to understand Athanasius’ Christological vision we must look beyond the treatises to consider his wider ascetic and pastoral writings and set Athanasius firmly within his own historical and theological context.2 The present article is a short contribution to this ongoing re-evaluation. The focus here is not on the theological depth of Athanasius’ Christology. Rather, my interest lies in Athanasius’ pastoral application of his Christological teachings, expressed above all through his Easter Festal Letters. Athanasius was not an academic scholar. He composed his theology in the midst of the fourth-century doctrinal controversies, and never lost sight of the significance of those controversies for everyday Christian life. As we will see, in his Easter epistles Athanasius presented the same essential Christology as in his treatises but reformulated for a general audience. The success of Athanasius’ pastoral efforts played a crucial role in securing his legacy, although subsequent generations faced the same difficulties as later scholars in reconciling Athanasius’ Christological language with either Chalcedonian or Miaphysite definitions of ‘orthodoxy’. From at least the third century onwards, it was customary for the bishops of Alexandria to write two letters every year concerning the Easter celebration for circulation to the bishops subordinate to their see.3 The first letter was a brief note, despatched shortly after each Easter, that announced the date of Easter for the following year. The Festal Letter proper was a longer work sent out in January or February of the year itself to confirm that date and to transmit the Alexandrian bishop’s Easter message to his congregations. Athanasius originally composed his Festal Letters in Greek, but the extant remnants have chiefly survived in Syriac and Coptic manuscripts.4 The complex transmission process has allowed errors to creep into the traditional chronological order and 2 The scholarship is vast. Note particularly here K. Anatolios, Athanasius (1998); John Behr, The Nicene Faith, The Formation of Christian Theology 2 (New York, 2004), 168-259; Thomas G. Weinandy, Athanasius: A Theological Introduction (Aldershot, 2007); Peter Gemeinhardt (ed.), Athanasius Handbuch (Tübingen, 2011); and David M. Gwynn, Athanasius of Alexandria: Bishop, Theologian, Ascetic, Father (Oxford, 2012). 3 The earliest evidence comes from the episcopate of Dionysius (247-64), through Eusebius of Caesarea, Historia Ecclesiastica VII 20. 4 The crucial Syriac manuscript was edited by William Cureton, The Festal Letters of Athanasius (London, 1848), and then revised and translated into English by Henry Burgess, The Festal Letters of Saint Athanasius (Oxford, 1854). It is Burgess’ revised translation that is reprinted in Athanasius’ volume in the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers series. The scattered Coptic fragments all originate from three manuscripts from the White Monastery of Shenoute, and were edited by Louis Th. Lefort, Saint Athanase: Lettres festales et pastorales en Copte, CSCO 150, Copt. 19 (Louvain, 1955), 1-72 and CSCO 151, Copt. 20 (Louvain, 1955), 1-55. The only existing modern translation of the complete extant fragments is into Italian by Alberto Camplani, Atanasio di Alessandria. Lettere festali. Anonimo. Indice delle Lettere festali (Milan, 2003).

Christology in the Pastoral Theology of Athanasius of Alexandria

25

numbering of Athanasius’ letters,5 and the collection as a whole requires careful handling.6 Despite the challenges posed by study of the Festal Letters, their value makes them indispensable. No authentic Athanasian sermons survive, and the Festal Letters represent both our key source for his pastoral teachings and an important guide to how Athanasius’ thought changed over his long episcopate. The Easter context inevitably influenced the teachings expressed in the Letters, but the Incarnation was an obvious theme for the Paschal celebration and Christ’s humanity and divinity alike were essential to the doctrinal orthodoxy that Athanasius required his churches to embrace.7 The anti-‘Arian’ rhetoric so prominent in his polemical writings is largely absent, except for Festal Letter X for Easter 338 which was composed in the tense period between his first and second exiles.8 Denunciations of the Jews and false Christians are a recurring feature, but the focus of the Festal Letters is not on polemic but on calling the faithful to praise God and give thanks for the gift of salvation. Athanasius’ Christology is fundamental to his pastoral message, underpinning his vision of Christian belief and practice. Across his wider theological treatises, Athanasius’ Christological vision is broadly consistent. The full divinity of the incarnate Son is emphasised throughout. Christ’s full humanity was more difficult for Athanasius to articulate, particularly against those who drew upon the Incarnation as evidence for the Son’s subordinate divinity. Yet Athanasius never divorced the Word from the experiences of Christ’s body, and in his later years he insisted that the divine Son was united with a complete human being of body and soul amidst the debates surrounding Apollinaris of Laodicea.9 One of Athanasius’ 5 The difficulties are conveniently summarised in Timothy D. Barnes, Athanasius and Constantius: Theology and Politics in the Constantinian Empire (Cambridge, MA, London, 1993), 183-91, and discussed in detail in Alberto Camplani, Le Lettere Festali di Atanasio di Alexandria (Rome, 1989), 17-196, and id., Atanasio di Alessandria (2003). 6 A new English translation and commentary for the Festal Letters is currently under preparation by David Brakke and David M. Gwynn for publication in the Liverpool University Press Translated Texts series, from which all translations in this article are drawn. 7 On Athanasius’ theology and the Festal Letters, see Rosario P. Merendino, Paschale Sacramentum. Eine Untersuchung über die Osterkatechese des Hl. Athanasius von Alexandrien in ihrer Beziehung zu den frühchristlichen exegetisch-theologischen Überlieferungen (Münster, 1965); Charles Kannengiesser, ‘The Homiletic Festal Letters of Athanasius’, in David G. Hunter (ed.), Preaching in the Patristic Age (New York, Mahwah, NJ, 1989), 73-100; K. Anatolios, Athanasius (1998); and Nathan K.-K. Ng, The Spirituality of Athanasius: A Key for Proper Understanding of This Important Church Father (Bern, 2001). 8 Festal Letter X is analysed in detail by Rudolf Lorenz, Der zehnte Osterfestbrief des Athanasius von Alexandrien (Berlin, New York, 1986). On Athanasius’ polemic more widely, see David M. Gwynn, The Eusebians: The Polemic of Athanasius of Alexandria and the Construction of the ‘Arian Controversy’ (Oxford, 2007). 9 Athanasius’ relationship with Apollinaris is complex, see for a short summary Joseph T. Lienhard, ‘Two Friends of Athanasius: Marcellus of Ancyra and Apollinaris of Laodicea’, ZAC 10 (2006), 56-66.

26

D.M. GWYNN

last extant writings, the Letter to Epictetus of Corinth (ca. 372), reaffirmed the relationship between the divine and human in the Incarnate Christ which made salvation possible for all. The humanity was deified by the divinity, and the Word was in the body when the body suffered.10 Athanasius was never as adept as his greatest successor Cyril of Alexandria in his attribution of the properties of each of Christ’s two natures to the other through the communication of idioms. He was also limited by his vocabulary, as Athanasius used hypostasis and ousia as synonyms and so could not define the Incarnation as the hypostatic union of two natures in one person.11 Still, in his fundamental vision of the Incarnation Athanasius differs little if at all from Cyril or later orthodox tradition. How did Athanasius reformulate this Christological vision in the pastoral context of the Festal Letters? Unsurprisingly in homiletic letters devoted to the Easter celebration, Athanasius once more consistently upheld the full divinity of the Son who took on our humanity to grant us salvation. Christology and soteriology are intimately intertwined, and human salvation is depicted through the familiar language of deification. This is the Lord’s grace, and these are the Lord’s remedies for human beings. For he suffered, so that he might prepare impassibility for the human being who has suffered in him; he came down, so that he might raise us up; he accepted the trial of birth, so that we might love him who is unborn; he descended to corruption, so that corruptibility might put on immortality; he became weak for us, so that we might rise in power; he descended to death, so that he might bestow on us immortality and give life to the dead; finally, he became human, so that we who die as human beings might live, and so that death might no longer rule over us (Festal Letter X [338] 8.19).12

Festal Letter X, written for Easter 338, thus expresses the same core teachings that Athanasius repeated in the Letter to Epictetus 34 years later. The divine Word shares in the experiences of the body, and so all humanity is redeemed. Here as elsewhere in Athanasius’ writings, however, the full humanity of the incarnate Christ is arguably implied but never explicitly asserted. The passage just quoted is followed by a condemnation of the ‘Ariomaniacs’ who use the Incarnation to deny that the Son is eternally and essentially God.13 It is the 10 ‘The Son, being God and Lord of glory, was in the body which was ingloriously nailed and dishonoured; but the body, while it suffered, being pierced on the tree, and water and blood flowed from its side, yet because it was a temple of the Word was filled full of the Godhead’ (Letter to Epictetus 10). 11 For Athanasius’ use of the terms ousia, hypostasis and also physis, see Thomas F. Torrance, Divine Meaning: Studies in Patristic Hermeneutics (Edinburgh, 1995), 206-12. 12 See also Letter XIV (331) 4.16-7; Letter XX (348) 1.1; Letter II (352) 7.15. 13 ‘Because of his descent, which was for the sake of human beings, they have denied his essential divinity; because they see that he came forth from a virgin, they doubt that he is truly the Son of God; because they consider that he became human within time, they deny his eternity; because they observe that he suffered for our sake, they do not believe that he is the incorruptible

Christology in the Pastoral Theology of Athanasius of Alexandria

27

divinity not the humanity that is Athanasius’ great concern. This remains true even in the Festal Letters from the 360s and early 370s, circulated when debates over Christology were increasing in the eastern Church. The Letters from these years are often incomplete, largely preserved in scattered Coptic fragments, but their focus is on pastoral questions such as the scriptural canon (Letter XXXIX, 367) and the proper veneration of martyrs (Letter XLI, 369). There is no change in Athanasius’ theological message, and as late as Easter 372 he was still concerned to emphasise that the incarnate Word was not an ordinary human being like ourselves. When the servants of the chief priests and the scribes had seen and heard these things from Jesus – ‘Let anyone who thirsts come to me and drink’ – they recognized that he was not an ordinary human being like them, but that it was he who gives water to the saints and it was he who had been proclaimed through the prophet Isaiah (Festal Letter XLIV [372]).14

Athanasius’ reluctance to compare the humanity of the incarnate Word directly with our own humanity was also reflected in the pastoral guidance that he offered to his congregations. The values and behaviour required of a true Christian are a central theme throughout the Festal Letters, and Athanasius appeals repeatedly to Scripture for models whom he urges his congregations to imitate.15 Yet he only rarely appeals to Jesus as a template for human behaviour or draws on stories from the Gospels.16 There are exceptions – Jesus rebuking the ungrateful lepers (Lk. 17:15-9) in Festal Letter VI (334) 3.7 and aiding the Canaanite woman (Matt. 15:21-8) in Festal Letter VII (335) 7.24 – but in each case the lesson lies not in Jesus’ actions but in the correct human response of those who received his gift. And while Jesus’ suffering reinforces Athanasius’ repeated exhortations to his followers to endure under persecution (e.g. Festal Letter X [338]; XIII [341]; XXIX [357]; XXXVI/II [364/5]), these exhortations draw on lengthy catalogues of scriptural exempla in which Job and Paul are more prominent than the incarnate Word. Rather than emulate Jesus himself, who through the Word surpasses human capacity and sets the pattern for the Son of the incorruptible Father; and, in general, because he suffered for our sake, they deny the things belonging to his essential eternity’ (Festal Letter X 9.20). 14 It is difficult to place much weight on this passage, which is the sole fragment surviving from Letter XLIV and was preserved by the Miaphysite Severus of Antioch. But Festal Letter XXVII (355) makes the same point that the incarnate Son is not ‘someone like everyone else’. 15 For an excellent overview of Athanasius’ approach to the Scriptures see James D. Ernest, The Bible in Athanasius of Alexandria (Leiden, Boston, 2004). 16 This approach may help to explain one of the more unusual omissions in the Festal Letters. When Athanasius introduced the 40-day Lenten fast in Egypt for Easter 334, a reform that clearly proved contentious, his scriptural justification for the new practice was to appeal to Israel’s forty years in the wilderness (Festal Letter VI 12.28) and not to the more obvious example of Jesus’ 40 days in the desert. For alternative explanations for that omission, see David Brakke, ‘Jewish Flesh and Christian Spirit in Athanasius of Alexandria’, JECS 9 (2001), 453-81, 458-61.

28

D.M. GWYNN

heavenly way of life,17 Athanasius urges his earthly congregations to emulate the disciples and Old Testament champions, taking up the words of Paul: ‘Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ’ (1Cor. 11:1).18 By the standards of later orthodoxy, Athanasius in the Festal Letters once again places little explicit emphasis on the full humanity of Jesus. As recent scholarship has rightly insisted, however, the true pastoral significance of Athanasius’ Christology lies not in the theological expression of Christ’s two natures but in Christ’s redemption of humanity. Through the Incarnation, Christ renewed humanity in God’s image and called humanity to a new participation in the divine.19 In the words of Athanasius’ very first Festal Letter, the faithful should celebrate the feast ‘by stripping off the old human being with his deeds and clothing ourselves with the new human being who has been created in God’ (Festal Letter I [329] 9.19).20 The renewal of humanity is the gift of divine grace, accomplishing what humanity cannot achieve without God’s aid. This gift does not negate human free will or the need for spiritual and moral commitment.21 In redeeming humanity, Christ has made it possible for all men and women to imitate the lives of the saints. Those who fail to heed this call turn away from God and forfeit the promise of salvation. The Festal Letters are Athanasius’ vehicle to summon the faithful to the correct path. Let it be the case among us, as is fitting always, but especially during the days of the feast, that we are not merely hearers, but also doers of the Saviour’s commandments, so that, after we have imitated the saints’ conduct, we might enter together into the joy of the Lord, which is endless and truly enduring in the heavens (Festal Letter II [352] 2.3).

Athanasius’ pastoral exhortations draw on themes familiar from the whole corpus of Christian homiletic rhetoric. His followers are urged to devote themselves to charity, fasting, prayer and scriptural study, particularly for the holy days of Easter. But there is one argument that holds special significance for 17 ‘Athanasius does not treat the Gospels as a modern biography of the human Jesus, but as an account of the economy, grounded in theology, of the Word of God, the crucified and exalted Christ Jesus’ (J. Behr, The Nicene Faith [2004], 225). 18 ‘For just as whoever receives an apostle receives the one who sent him, so too whoever has become an imitator of the saints doubtless also has his intention directed toward the Lord, of whom Paul was an imitator, saying in addition, “as I am of Christ”’ (Festal Letter II [352] 4.8). 19 Exactly how this renewal takes place is never fully explained: for a discussion see Stephen J. Davis, Coptic Christology in Practice: Incarnation and Divine Participation in Late Antique and Medieval Egypt (Oxford, 2008), 14-27. 20 Ibid. 171-7 has an interesting discussion regarding the depiction of Christ on Coptic clothing and its possible associations with Athanasius’ Christological language. 21 ‘We sail on this sea by our own free will, as though by a wind, for everyone is carried where it is his will (to go). Either, when the Word is navigating, one enters into rest, or, when pleasure is in control, one suffers shipwreck and is endangered by the storm’ (Festal Letter XIX [347] 7.18). For a good short discussion of the relationship between grace and free will in Athanasius’ Festal Letters, see K. Anatolios, Athanasius (1998), 173-6.

Christology in the Pastoral Theology of Athanasius of Alexandria

29

Athanasius, and which flows from his Christological vision. While humanity has been redeemed through the Incarnation, not every Christian can imitate Jesus directly, hence the call to imitate Paul who in turn imitated Christ.22 And likewise, Christ knows that not all will progress at the same speed. Each person must be guided to salvation according to their strengths and limitations.23 This is a message expressed most forcefully once again in Festal Letter X (338): It follows that, when the word is sown, it does not yield a uniform produce of fruit in this human life, but one various and rich, for it brings forth one hundred, sixty, and thirty, as the Saviour teaches, that sower of grace and bestower of the Spirit. And this is no doubtful matter, nor does it receive external confirmation. Rather, we can see this field that has been sown by him, for in the Church the Word is manifold and the produce rich. Such a field is not adorned with virgins alone, nor with ascetics alone, but also with honourable marriage and the chastity of each person. For while he sowed, he did not compel the will beyond its capacity, nor does love belong to the perfect alone, but it descends also among those in the middle and third ranks, so that he might rescue all people generally to salvation (Festal Letter X [338] 4.8).24

Athanasius here takes inspiration from his Christological and soteriological theology to address the essential pastoral dilemma that the rise of the ascetic movement raised for his Christian communities.25 The monks and virgins of the fourth century threatened to create a spiritual elite, set apart from their fellow believers. Athanasius paid due honour to those who followed an ascetic lifestyle. The Life of Antony presents an ideal model of a life lived in Christ,26 and in Festal Letter X monks and virgins are placed in a higher category on the path to perfection. But Athanasius also insisted that all true Christians would be saved if they sought progress towards perfection through their own free will. Easter was a time for abstinence, fasting and prayer, and Egyptian lay men and women were encouraged to adopt for Lent the ascetic commitment expected of monks and virgins (a pattern of behaviour aptly described as ‘the asceticism of the ordinary Christian’27). This appeal helped to bridge the gulf that threatened to separate lay Christians from the expanding ascetic movement, through Christ’s redemption of each person according to their measure. 22

A similar call to imitation is found in Athanasius’ first Letter to Virgins, which urges his audience to emulate the Virgin Mary in all things. 23 The same Athanasian theme is developed from different perspectives by N.K.-K. Ng, The Spirituality of Athanasius (2001) and George E. Demacopoulos, Five Models of Spiritual Direction in the Early Church (Notre Dame, IN, 2007), 21-49. 24 It is interesting to compare Athanasius’ inclusive reading of the Parable of the Sower here with the far more polemical approach taken by Jerome in his condemnation of Jovinianus for teaching that virgins, married women and widows are of equal merit in the eyes of God (Against Jovinianus I 3). 25 For the standard introduction to the place of the Festal Letters in Athanasius’ ascetic thought see David Brakke, Athanasius and the Politics of Asceticism (Oxford, 1995), esp. ch. 3. 26 See further K. Anatolios, Athanasius (1998), 177-95. 27 D. Brakke, Politics of Asceticism (1995), 182.

D.M. GWYNN

30

What we see in Athanasius’ Festal Letters is thus the practical application of Christology in a pastoral setting. Athanasius’ chief concern was not with technical doctrinal precision but with the issues that faced his Egyptian congregations. The rising ascetic movement was one such challenge. So of course were the ongoing theological debates, particularly in Athanasius’ eyes the ‘Arian’ doctrines that undermined the Son’s full divinity and the promise of salvation. The redemption of humanity through the Incarnation of the divine Word provided Athanasius with a focus through which to address these questions and to exhort his followers to heed the call to live a Christian life. Did Athanasius’ efforts bear fruit? How did his pastoral Christology influence his subsequent legacy? For the wider Church, Athanasius was remembered as a paragon of orthodoxy but his lack of precise terminology limited his impact on the fifth-century Christological controversies. Much like with the Scriptures, Athanasius’ authority was recognized by all those involved in the controversies – Nestorius no less than Cyril – yet his works could not resolve the questions under dispute. Indeed, a number of Athanasius’ writings were edited after his death in light of the later debates, notably the Letter to Epictetus which survives in an Armenian Miaphysite version as a militant affirmation of Cyril’s Theotokos and the indissoluble union of the natures of Christ.28 One might draw a parallel in the west to the so-called Athanasian Creed, probably composed in southern Gaul in the late fifth or early sixth century, whose Christology again reveals the language of later times. The true strength of Athanasius’ Christology, however, lay in the universal pastoral message reflected in the Festal Letters. Tracing the impact of the Letters individually is very difficult.29 But Athanasius’ influence on later Egyptian Coptic Christianity was enormous. Coptic Christology was rooted in the teachings of Athanasius and Cyril, emphasising human participation in the divine made possible through the Incarnation and the corresponding capacity of humanity to embrace a Christian ascetic commitment aided by divine grace.30 Significantly, the Coptic tradition had limited interest in Athanasius’ polemical or even theological writings and their historical context.31 It was the pastoral 28

Robert W. Thomson, ‘The Transformation of Athanasius in Armenian Theology (a tendentious version of the Epistula ad Epictetum)’, Le Muséon 78 (1965), 47-69, reprinted in id., Studies in Armenian Literature and Christianity (Aldershot, 1994), XIII. Cyril was aware of corrupted texts of the Letter to Epictetus being circulated by his opponents in the early 430s (Letters 39 [to John of Antioch] and 45 [First Letter to Succensus of Diocaesarea]), although famously Cyril derived his own expression ‘one nature (mia physis) of the Word incarnate’ from the pseudo-Athanasian De Incarnatione Dei Verbi. 29 With the exception of Festal Letter XXXIX (367) on the scriptural canon, which was read out and then posted in Pachomian monasteries (Bohairic Life of Pachomius 189). 30 S.J. Davis, Coptic Christology (2008). 31 David M. Gwynn, ‘Athanasius in Oriental Historical Tradition’, in Christopher Kelly, Richard Flower and Michael S. Williams (eds), Unclassical Traditions, vol. 2: Perspectives from East and West in Late Antiquity (Cambridge, 2011), 43-58.

Christology in the Pastoral Theology of Athanasius of Alexandria

31

and ascetic works that were preserved. Near the end of Athanasius’ biography in the History of the Patriarchs of Alexandria, the bishop is said to have written ‘many homilies and treatises’ (HPA PO 1.422), of which the only works identified are the Life of Antony, an otherwise unknown work on virginity – and the Festal Letters. The Athanasius remembered in the Coptic tradition was the man who united the diverse communities of Christian Egypt. Athanasius’ pastoral teachings played a crucial role in that success, and demonstrated the value of a Christology focused less on technical argumentation and more on the implications of the Incarnation for everyday Christian life.

Réflexions christologiques dans le Commentaire sur les Psaumes d’Apolinaire de Laodicée. Étude de cas sur le Ps 44:8bc Hélène GRELIER-DENEUX, Université Paris Nanterre, Paris, France

ABSTRACT This paper aims to present the exegetical method of Apolinaris of Laodicea on the Psalms by a case-study based on the fragments preserved and edited by E. Mühlenberg (Psalmenkommentare aus der Katenenenüberlieferung, PTS 15 [Berlin, 1975], 3-117), and to analyse how he reads some of the Psalms as testimonia of Christ. We attempted to characterize Apolinaris’ christological reading of Psalm 44 in the context of the antiArian polemic, and to see to what extent it sheds light on the content of the doctrinal fragments of the Laodicean, published by H. Lietzmann (Apollinaris von Laodicea und seine Schule [Tübingen, 1904]). To date, no detailed cross-sectional studies have been carried out at the same time on Apolinaris’ exegetical and doctrinal literary production, to establish links between those two corpuses. In this article we would simply like to take advantage of the Apolinarian exegesis of one of the Psalms to contribute to a better understanding of Apolinarism in the midst of christological debates against Arians and against some Christological approaches of the Antiochians, but in the continuity of Athanasius of Alexandria.

D’après Jérôme, Apolinaire de Laodicée1 aurait rédigé un commentaire complet sur les Psaumes, aujourd’hui perdu, mais transmis de façon indirecte et fragmentaire par les chaînes. L’édition critique de ces quelques 300 fragments, due à Ekkehard Mühlenberg et parue en 1975, permet de relever des inflexions théologiques et des caractéristiques herméneutiques qui méritent attention2. Bien que Gilles Dorival, dans son étude sur Les chaînes exégétiques grecques sur les Psaumes, conteste certains points de méthode et des résultats du savant 1 Concernant l’orthographe d’Apolinaire, cf. Gilles Dorival, Les chaînes exégétiques grecques sur les Psaumes, vol. 5 (Leuven, 2018), 314: ‘L’orthographe Apolinaire est attestée par l’ensemble des témoins anciens, à l’exception du Vaticanus Reginensis gr. 40 qui, au psaume 78,1b, propose Ἀπολληναρίου avec deux -λ. Il me semble qu’il faut respecter l’usage ancien majoritaire’. Jean-Marie Auwers fait aussi le choix d’écrire Apolinaire avec un seul ‘l’ dans son ouvrage sur L’interprétation du Cantique des Cantiques à travers les chaînes exégétiques grecques (Turnhout, 2011), XVIII, ‘pour se conformer à l’usage des manuscrits’. 2 Ekkehard Mühlenberg, Psalmenkommentare aus der Katenenüberlieferung, vol. 1, PTS 15 (Berlin, New-York, 1975).

Studia Patristica CXII, 33-47. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

34

H. GRELIER-DENEUX

allemand, il reconnaît dans son cinquième volume, paru récemment, en 2018, que seules quelques modifications de détail doivent être apportées à l’édition publiée par E. Mühlenberg pour le corpus apolinarien3. C’est la raison pour laquelle nous nous fonderons sur l’édition allemande pour la présente enquête. L’objectif initial de celle-ci était de repérer les éléments de christologie qui se trouvent dans les fragments du Commentaire sur les Psaumes d’Apolinaire pour voir dans quelle mesure ils permettent de mieux comprendre sa doctrine surtout connue par le corpus de fragments doctrinaux, édités par Hanz Lietzmann en 19044. Mais la lecture globale du corpus a révélé surtout que la christologie consistait en une somme d’éléments épars et variés, certains renvoyant aux débats de l’époque, à partir desquels il est difficile d’échafauder un édifice théorique bien net. La présente enquête ne consistera donc pas en une étude de synthèse, mais en l’analyse d’un cas de figure, le fragment sur le Psaume 44:8 – verset tant débattu dans les discussions doctrinales du IVe siècle – assez emblématique de l’approche christologique d’Apolinaire. I. L’onction du Christ et sa lecture trinitaire E. Mühlenberg, dans son article sur la méthode exégétique d’Apolinaire5, datant de 1992, rappelle le tribut origénien des Pères dans leur commentaire sur les psaumes et l’importance de la méthode prosopologique dans l’exégèse ancienne chrétienne, comme l’a étudié Marie-Josèphe Rondeau6. Les auteurs sont ainsi préoccupés d’identifier les personnages qui parlent, ceux auxquels ils s’adressent et ceux à propos de qui est chanté tel ou tel verset7. Chez Apolinaire, beaucoup de psaumes sont lus comme des prophéties sur le Christ, qui annoncent sa passion, sa résurrection et son œuvre rédemptrice. La portée sotériologique des textes est l’horizon massif qui se dessine dans la collection des 300 fragments, d’où l’omniprésence de la figure du Christ. C’est ce que manifeste le frg. sur le Ps 44:8bc qui a retenu l’attention dans les 3 G. Dorival, Les chaînes exégétiques (2018), 314-5. Sans entrer dans les débats sur la constitution de l’édition caténique, mentionnons simplement quelques réattributions de fragments par G. Dorival à Apolinaire : le frg. 970 sur le Ps 101 attribué à Didyme par E. Mühlbenberg doit être restitué à Apolinaire, ainsi que la fin du frg. 971 selon l’éd. d’E. Mühlenberg, Psalmenkommentare, vol. 2, PTS 16 (Berlin, 1977), 225. Cf. aussi les recensions de l’édition par D. Hagedorn, dans JAC 20 (1977), 198-202 ; 22 (1979), 209-13. Pour l’étude de la transmission caténique du matériau apolinarien, cf. les travaux de R. Ceulemans, ‘Apollinaris of Laodicea in the Catenae as a Source of Hexaplaric Readings’, ZAC 15 (2011), 431-49 ; ‘Unknown Hexaplaric Readings of Ezechiel, Isaiah and Psalms, Offered by Apollinaris of Laodicea’, ZAW 123 (2011), 406-23. 4 H. Lietzmann, Apollinaris von Laodicea und seine Schule (Tübingen, 1904). 5 E. Mühlenberg, ‘Zur exegetischen Methode des Apollinaris von Laodicea’, dans J. van Oort et V. Wickert (éd.), Christliche Exegese zwischen Nicaea und Chalkedon (Kampen, 1992), 132-47. 6 Marie-Josèphe Rondeau, Les commentaires patristiques du Psautier (IIIe-Ve siècles), 2 vol. (Rome, 1982 et 1985). 7 Ibid. II 7.

Réflexions christologiques dans le Commentaire sur les Psaumes d’Apolinaire

35

débats doctrinaux depuis les Apologistes8, en raison de la répétition de θεός: ‘c’est pourquoi Dieu, ton Dieu t’a oint d’une huile d’allégresse contrairement à tes participants (διὰ τοῦτο ἔχρισέν σε ὁ θεός ὁ θεός σου / ἔλαιον ἀγγαλιάσεως παρὰ τοὺς μετόχους σου)’. Le commentaire apolinarien consiste d’abord en un ample syllogisme construit ainsi: – Prémisse majeure: l’onction de l’Esprit porte sur la nature divine du Christ en vertu de sa parenté avec le Père et l’Esprit, et n’a pas lieu par participation (μετοχή). Et si elle n’avait pas eu lieu par parenté, elle serait la récompense (μισθός) d’un effort pour obtenir la sagesse. – Prémisse mineure: Or le Christ n’a pas progressé dans la sagesse car il est Dieu. – En conclusion, l’onction ne porte pas sur sa simple humanité, mais sur sa nature humano-divine. 1. La prémisse majeure du syllogisme présente une lecture trinitaire du verset 8: Donc l’huile divine est répandue comme dans un réceptacle pur, dit le psalmiste, conjointe par nature (φύσει) et non par participation (οὐ μετοχῇ) en raison de sa parenté (διὰ τὴν οἰκειότητα) (non donnée par grâce comme pour tes participants), et il appelle le Christ Dieu tout en disant que celui qui oint est son Dieu; il ne supprime pas par là la constitution humaine (ἀνθρωπίνην σύστασιν) et la relation (σχέσιν) du Verbe avec la chair selon lesquelles a lieu aussi l’onction de l’Esprit…9

Apolinaire s’inscrit ici dans une tradition de lecture trinitaire bien établie à son époque: on la trouve par exemple chez Eusèbe, qui reconnaît ‘une double allusion à la divinité et à l’onction suréminente du personnage, divine et supérieure à celle des hommes’10, chez Athanase dans son traité Contre les ariens11 ; elle est aussi très bien récapitulée par Grégoire de Nysse à la fin du IVe siècle 8

Ps 44:7-8 était fréquemment utilisé depuis les Apologistes pour démontrer la divinité du Christ (par ex. Justin, Dialogue avec Tryphon 56,14-5; Origène, Contre Celse I,56; Irénée, Démonstration de la prédication apostolique 47,3 cités par Sébastien Morlet, La démonstration évangélique d’Eusèbe de Césarée. Étude sur l’apologétique chrétienne à l’époque de Constantin [Paris, 2009], 573, n. 717). 9 Frg. 68, éd. E. Mühlenberg, Psalmenkommentare (1975), I 27.8-12: Ὡς οὖν ἐν καθαρῷ, φησίν, δεκτηρίῳ τὸ θεῖον ἐπικέχρισται μύρον φύσει καὶ οὐ μετοχῇ διὰ τὴν οἰκειότητα συναπτόμενον (οὐ χάριτι δεδόμενον ὥσπερ καὶ τοῖς μετόχοις σου), καὶ θεὸν μὲν προσφωνεῖ τὸν Χριστόν, θεὸν δὲ αὐτοῦ λέγει τὸν χρίοντα, οὐκ ἀναιρῶν τὴν ἀνθρωπίνην σύστασιν καὶ τὴν πρὸς σάρκα σχέσιν τοῦ λόγου καθ’ ἣν καὶ πνεύματος χρῖσις… 10 S. Morlet, dans La démonstration évangélique d’Eusèbe (2009), 573, n. 717, montre qu’Eusèbe utilise spécifiquement cette preuve scripturaire pour opposer l’onction véritable à l’onction juive, et qu’en ce sens, il est tributaire d’Origène. Cf. Eusèbe, Démonstration évangélique IV 15,55-64. 11 Contre les ariens I 46-9, éd. K. Metzler, Athanasius Werke, I, 1, Die dogmatischen Schriften 2. Lieferung Orationes I et II contra arianos (Berlin, New York, 1998), 155.27-159.24.

36

H. GRELIER-DENEUX

dans son Antirrhétique contre Apolinaire12. La lecture traditionnelle du passage qui consistait à reconnaître deux personnes distinctes, le Fils et le Père, se fonde sur la répétition biblique de θεός dans le verset 8, interprété comme une distinction opérée par le psalmiste entre le Christ (celui qui est oint) et le Père (celui qui oint), le premier devant être compris comme un vocatif (θεέ n’existant pas), désignant le Christ qui est oint, comme au verset 7: ὁ θρόνος σου, ὁ θεός, εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα τοῦ αἰῶνος. Quant au deuxième θεός dans le verset 8, il renvoie au Père, qui oint13. C’est, selon S. Morlet, Origène qui utilise pour la première fois les versets 7 et 8 pour démontrer le caractère divin de l’onction du Christ14. Ce psaume sert alors de preuve de la divinité du Christ15. Apolinaire fonde son interprétation de l’onction d’huile divine comme étant celle du πνεῦμα sur deux passages scripturaires qui prouvent la descente de l’Esprit sur Jésus: l’ombration de l’Esprit lors de l’incarnation (ἀπ᾿ ἀρχῆς) en Lc 1:35 et l’expression ‘onction de l’esprit’ en Ac 10:38 à propos du baptême du Christ: … car la chair a été à la fois consacrée auparavant et consacrée ensuite par l’Esprit, qui se trouve présent aussi au commencement et survient à nouveau. En effet, au commencement : l’Esprit saint viendra sur toi et la puissance du Très-Haut te prendra sous son ombre (Lc 1:35), et encore : Jésus de Nazareth, Dieu l’a oint de son Esprit saint et de sa puissance (Lc 10:38)16. 12 Antirrhétique contre Apolinaire (rédigé après 380), éd. F. Müller, Gregorii Nysseni Opera III/1 (Leiden, 1958), 220.21-221.2: ἐν τούτοις γὰρ διὰ μὲν τοῦ θρόνου τὴν ἐπὶ πάντων ἀρχὴν διασημαίνει ὁ λόγος· ἡ δὲ ῥάβδος τῆς εὐθύτητος τὸ ἀδέκαστον ἑρμηνεύει τῆς κρίσεως· τὸ δὲ τῆς ἀγαλλιάσεως ἔλαιον τὴν τοῦ ἁγίου πνεύματος παρίστησι δύναμιν, ᾧ χρίεται παρὰ τοῦ θεοῦ ὁ θεός, τουτέστι παρὰ τοῦ πατρὸς ὁμονογενής, ἐπειδὴ ἠγάπησε δικαιοσύνην καὶ ἐμίσησεν ἀδικίαν. εἰ δὲ πάντοτε φίλος δικαιοσύνης (οὐ γὰρ ἄν ποτε ἑαυτὸν μισήσειεν, αὐτὸς δικαιοσύνη ὤν), πάντοτε δηλονότι καὶ ἐν τῷ χρίσματι θεωρεῖται (‘Dans ce verset, le discours désigne par le mot ‘trône’ le pouvoir universel, le sceptre de droiture signifie la rectitude de jugement; quant à l’huile d’allégresse, elle manifeste la puissance de l’Esprit Saint par laquelle Dieu est oint par Dieu, c’est-à-dire le Monogène par le Père, puisqu’il a aimé la justice et haï l’injustice. Si le Fils a été en tout temps ami de la justice [car il n’aurait jamais pu se haïr luimême, puisqu’il est précisément la justice], de toute évidence, il est considéré comme ayant l’onction depuis toujours’). 13 Apolinaire fait une lecture similaire du Ps 109:1 dans un frg. Sur l’incarnation, transmis par Théodoret dans l’Eranistès II, éd. H. Lietzmann, Apollinaris (1904), frg. 3, 204.23-30. 14 Cf. par ex. Traité des principes IV, 4, 4, éd. H. Crouzel et M. Simonetti, SC 268 (Paris, rééd. 2008), 410-1. 15 Cf. E. Mühlenberg, ‘Apollinaris von Laodicea und die origenistiche Tradition’, Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 76 (1985), 270-83. 16 Apolinaire, frg. 68 sur le Ps 44:8bc, éd. E. Mühlenberg, Psalmenkommentare (1975), 27.12-6: … προηγιασμένης τε καὶ ἐφηγιασμένης τῆς σαρκὸς διὰ τοῦ καὶ ἀπ’ ἀρχῆς παρόντος πνεύματος καὶ πάλιν παραγενομένου. καὶ γὰρ ἐξ ἀρχῆς Πνεῦμα ἅγιον ἐπελεύσεται ἐπὶ σὲ καὶ δύναμις ὑψίστου ἐπισκιάσει σοι· καὶ πάλιν Ἰησοῦν τὸν ἀπὸ Ναζαρὲτ ὃν ἔχρισεν αὐτὸν ὁ θεὸς πνεύματι ἁγίῳ καὶ δυνάμει. J’ai apporté une correction dans la proposition ὃν ἔχρισεν αὐτὸν ὁ θεός ; l’édition d’E. Mühlenberg indique ὅς sans précision dans l’apparat critique, ce qui pose pourtant un problème syntaxique. Il s’agit probablement soit d’une erreur d’édition moderne, ce que je suppose, soit, moins probable, de copiste.

Réflexions christologiques dans le Commentaire sur les Psaumes d’Apolinaire

37

II. Une onction par nature (φύσις) et non par grâce (χάρις) Dans les premières lignes du commentaire pointe probablement une réponse discrète aux adversaires antiochiens, notamment Diodore de Tarse, qui conçoivent une christologie trop divisive aux yeux d’Apolinaire, en distinguant le Fils de Dieu par nature (φύσις) du Fils de Dieu par grâce (χάρις). C’est ce qu’atteste par exemple la comparaison textuelle avec des fragments en syriaque de Diodore édités par Maurice Brière: frg. 30: Nous ne disons donc pas deux (fils) d’un seul Père; mais (nous disons) que Dieu le Verbe est un seul Fils de Dieu par nature, et que celui qui (est) de Marie est par nature (fils) de David et par grâce (Fils) de Dieu. Accordons encore ceci: les deux sont un seul fils (…). frg. 31 : C’est par grâce que l’homme qui (est) de Marie est Fils, et c’est par nature que Dieu le Verbe (est Fils). Cela appartient à la grâce et non à la nature; et ceci appartient à la nature, et non à la grâce. Il n’y a pas deux fils17.

Or, Apolinaire réplique à Diodore très clairement sur la double appellation de Fils de Dieu κατὰ φύσιν et Fils de Dieu κατὰ χάριν dans sa lettre à l’empereur Jovien d’Apolinaris, datée de 363-36418: § 1: ὁμολογοῦμεν (…) οὐδὲ δύο υἱούς, ἄλλον μὲν υἱὸν θεοῦ ἀληθινὸν καὶ προσκυνούμενον, ἄλλον δὲ ἐκ Μαρίας ἄνθρωπον μὴ προσκυνούμενον, κατὰ χάριν υἱὸν θεοῦ γενόμενον, ὡς καὶ ἄνθρωποι… Nous confessons (…) non pas deux Fils, l’un, vrai Fils de Dieu et adorable, l’autre, un homme non adorable né de Marie, devenu Fils de Dieu par grâce, comme le sont les hommes… § 2 : ὁ τοίνυν γεννηθεὶς ἐκ τῆς παρθένου Μαρίας υἱὸς θεοῦ φύσει καὶ θεὸς ἀληθινός, καὶ οὐ χάριτι καὶ μετουσίᾳ, κατὰ σάρκα μόνον τὴν ἐκ Μαρίας ἄνθρωπος, κατὰ δὲ πνεῦμα ὁ αὐτὸς υἱὸς θεοῦ καὶ θεὸς παθὼν μὲν τὰ ἡμέτερα πάθη κατὰ σάρκα… Ainsi celui qui est né de la vierge Marie est fils de Dieu par nature et vrai Dieu, et non par grâce et participation, homme seulement selon la chair issue de Marie; mais selon l’esprit le même est fils de Dieu et Dieu qui a éprouvé nos passions selon la chair… § 3 : … Εἰ δέ τις παρὰ ταῦτα ἐκ τῶν θείων γραφῶν διδάσκει, ἕτερον λέγων τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ ἔτερον τὸν ἐκ Μαρίας ἄνθρωπον, κατὰ χάριν υἱοποιηθέντα ὡς ἡμεῖς· ὡς εἶναι δύο υἱούς, ἕνα κατὰ φύσιν υἱὸν θεοῦ, τὸν ἐκ θεοῦ καὶ ἕνα κατὰ χάριν, τὸν ἐκ Μαρίας ἄνθρωπον (….) τοῦτον ἀναθεματίζει ἡ καθολικὴ ἐκκλησία… 17 Maurice Brière, ‘Quelques fragments syriaques de Diodore, évêque de Tarse (378-394?)’, Revue de l’Orient chrétien 30/3e série, vol. X (1946), 271. Le frg. 31 est cité par Cyrille, Contra Theodorum, I, d’après les Actes du IIe concile œcuménique de Constantinople en 553. 18 Cf. H. Grelier, L’argumentation de Grégoire de Nysse contre Apolinaire de Laodicée, thèse de doctorat soutenue à l’université de Lyon 2 (2008) sous la dir. d’Olivier Munnich, 3 vol., ici I 54 pour la tradition manuscrite de cet opuscule transmis sous le nom d’Athanase. Cf. aussi Volker Hennig Drecoll, ‘Apollinarius. Ad Iovianum: Analyse und Bedeutung für die Apollinariuschronologie’, dans Silke-Petra Bergjan, Benjamin Gleede et Martin Heimgartner (éd.), Apollinarius und seine Folgen (Tübingen, 2015), 35-58.

H. GRELIER-DENEUX

38

… Mais si quelqu’un délivre un enseignement à partir des saintes Écritures qui va à l’encontre de cela en disant que le fils de Dieu est différent de l’homme issu de Marie, devenu fils par grâce comme nous, qu’il y a deux fils, l’un, fils de Dieu par nature, issu de Dieu, l’autre, par grâce, homme issu de Marie (…), que l’Église catholique l’anathématise19.

Il est donc possible qu’affleurent des traces de ces discussions christologiques dans l’insistance avec laquelle Apolinaire précise la distinction entre la ‘nature’ et la ‘participation’. Du reste, Diodore, quant à lui, n’aborde pas ce point dans son Commentaire sur les mêmes versets du Psaume 44, tout en donnant une lecture trinitaire du verset 8: Le à cause de cela renvoie à nouveau à ce qui était dit plus haut. En effet, non plus qu’il ait été oint à cause de cela, puisqu’il a aimé la justice et détesté l’iniquité, mais c’est parce qu’il était oint de l’Esprit saint qu’il a recouru à cette pratique. Quant au contrairement à tes participants, [le psalmiste] veut dire la façon dont les autres hommes qui sont oints le sont avec l’huile de la prophétie, de la sainteté ou de la royauté, tandis que lui, il a été oint de l’Esprit saint20.

L’onction divine, par l’Esprit, est affirmée ici contre une lecture à l’inflexion arienne qui verrait dans ce geste une récompense du comportement moral du Verbe. C’est ce qui amène l’auteur à établir, de façon classique à son époque, la distinction entre le temps de la préexistence du Verbe et celui de l’économie de l’incarnation pour justifier le fait que ce soit le même, de nature divine, qui reçoit l’onction: Au contraire, ici, il fait mention de l’économie, ou bien comment pouvait-il appeler le même tantôt Dieu, comme dans le verset précédent: Ton trône, Dieu, pour les siècles des siècles, tantôt au contraire: Dieu, ton Dieu, t’a oint? En fait, plus haut, il désigne la nature, tandis que là, il introduit l’économie. Par ses participants, il nomme à proprement parler les apôtres, et tous ceux qui après eux ont eu part à sa grâce21.

Marie-Josèphe Rondeau rappelle comment ‘les oscillations entre traits humains et traits divins qu’on observe dans le portrait du roi s’expliquent parce que le Seigneur qui s’est fait homme peut être envisagé en tant que Dieu ou en tant 19

Apolinaire, Ad Jovianum, 1, éd. H. Lietzmann, Apollinaris (1904), 251.3-6 ; 251.12-6 ; 253.

3-12. 20 Diodore de Tarse, Commentarii in Psalmos, 44:8b-c, éd. Jean-Marie Olivier, CChr.SG 6 (Turnhout, Leuven, 1980), 272.114-20: Τὸ Διὰ τοῦτο πάλιν παρέλκει ὡς καὶ ἐν τοῖς ἀνωτέροις. Οὐδὲ γὰρ Διὰ τοῦτο ἐχρίσθη ἐπειδὴ ἠγάπησε δικαιοσύνην καὶ ἐμίσησεν ἀνομίαν, ἀλλὰ κεχρισμένος τῷ πνεύματι τῷ ἁγίῳ τούτοις ἐχρῆτο τοῖς ἐπιτηδεύμασι. Τὸ δὲ παρὰ τοὺς μετόχους σου κατὰ τοῦτον λέγει τὸν τρόπον, ὅτι οἱ μὲν ἄλλοι χριόμενοι ἐλαίῳ ἐχρίοντο ἢ προφητείας ἢ ἱερωσύνης ἢ βασιλείας, αὐτὸς δὲ πνεύματι ἁγίῳ ἐχρίσθη. 21 Ibid. 272.121-7: Πάλιν δὲ ἐνταῦθα τῆς οἰκονομίας μνημονεύει ἢ πῶς τὸν αὐτὸν ἠδύνατο νῦν μὲν θεὸν καλεῖν ὡς ἐν τῷ ἀνωτέρω· Ὁ θρόνος σου, ὁ θεός, εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα τοῦ αἰῶνος, νῦν δὲ πάλιν ὅτι ἔχρισέ σε ὁ θεός, ὁ θεός σου; Ἀλλ’ ἐν τοῖς ἀνωτέρω τὴν φύσιν εἰπών, ἐνταῦθα τὴν οἰκονομίαν εἰσάγει. Μετόχους δὲ αὐτοῦ καλεῖ κυριώτερον τοὺς ἀποστόλους καὶ τοὺς ἑξῆς ὅσοι μετέσχον ἐκ τῆς αὐτοῦ χάριτος.

Réflexions christologiques dans le Commentaire sur les Psaumes d’Apolinaire

39

qu’homme’. Ici ‘Diodore préfère parler non de nature divine et de nature humaine, mais de nature (qualifiée ou non de divine) et d’économie’: il distingue le verset 7 qui porte sur la φύσις divine du verset 8 qui porte sur l’οἰκονομία. (…) Dans cette perspective, des plus traditionnelles, le Christ n’est pas envisagé selon un mode statique. Il est défini par sa nature divine, qui déploie son agir rédempteur grâce à l’incarnation’22. Si Diodore témoigne de cette sensibilité antiochienne, partagée ensuite par un Théodoret ou un Théodore23, il met en lumière plus nettement encore, par contraste, l’orientation exégétique d’Apolinaire qui vise pour sa part à maintenir l’unité du Christ en insistant sur le fait que cette onction de l’Esprit Saint touche la divinité du Verbe incarné dans la mesure où elle est en relation (σχέσις) avec sa chair (σάρξ)24. III. L’absence de progrès dans le Christ Les deux citations scripturaires (Ac 10:38 et Lc 1:35) qui fondent la lecture trinitaire d’Apolinaire sur le Ps 44:8 donnent aussi au commentaire une coloration anti-arienne25. L’évêque de Laodicée s’inscrit très nettement dans le sillage d’Athanase qui, dans son premier livre Contre les ariens, commente les versets 7-8 en lien avec Ac 10:38 et avec la descente de l’Esprit au Jourdain puisque ces deux passages scripturaires servaient aux ariens à justifier l’élection de Jésus comme Dieu26. Le commentaire d’Athanase mérite attention, car il est proche de notre fragment: 22

M.J. Rondeau, Les commentaires patristiques (1985), II 295. Théodoret de Cyr, In Psalmos 44,8 (PG 80, 1192C); Théodore de Mopsueste, In Psalmos 44,8b, éd. Devreesse, Le commentaire de Théodore de Mopsueste sur les Psaumes I-LXXX (Cité du Vatican, 1962), 289.19-290.3. 24 Concernant le sens de σχέσις, l’état fragmentaire du Commentaire d’Apolinaire empêche de savoir précisément s’il était employé selon un sens théologique technique repris des discussions trinitaires. Sur cette notion dans un contexte trinitaire, cf. Xavier Morales, La théologie trinitaire d’Athanase d’Alexandrie (Paris, 2006), 203: ‘Dans la polémique arienne, le terme signifie la façon d’expliquer que la différence entre le Père et le Fils n’existe que sur le plan de la relation, sans signifier aucunement une distinction dans l’ordre de la substance’, contrairement à son usage christologique pour désigner le rapport du Logos avec la σάρξ, l’un et l’autre étant substantiellement distincts. 25 Sur ce point, nous rejoignons l’analyse d’E. Mühlenberg, contrairement au jugement d’E. Grünbeck, Christologische Schriftargumentation (Leiden, 1994), 220-1, et 220, n. 114, qui met en doute la portée anti-arienne. E. Cattaneo, Trois homélies pseudo-chrysostomiennes sur la Pâque comme œuvre d’Apollinaire de Laodicée (Paris, 1981), 195 sq., souligne ainsi qu’est fondée dans cet extrait la conviction apolinarienne d’une perfection « naturelle », morale, du Christ, synonyme de vertu (ἀρετή). 26 E. Mühlenberg (‘Apollinaris von Laodicea und die origenistische Tradition’ [1985], 272-3) rappelle que c’est sur ce fondement scripturaire que les ariens prouvent que le Logos compte au nombre des créatures; mais puisqu’il a fait le choix du bien, en récompense, il a été oint et élevé au 23

40

H. GRELIER-DENEUX

Si c’est pour nous qu’il se sanctifie et s’il le fait lorsqu’il s’est fait homme, il est évident que la descente de l’Esprit qui s’est faite sur lui au Jourdain s’est faite elle aussi sur nous, parce qu’il portait notre corps; ce n’est point pour une amélioration du Verbe qu’elle s’est faite, mais, encore une fois, pour notre sanctification, pour que nous participions à son onction et qu’il puisse être dit de nous : Ne savez-vous pas que vous êtes le temple de Dieu et que l’Esprit de Dieu habite en vous? (1Cor 3:16) (…) Où trouver là un progrès, une amélioration, une récompense de la vertu ou simplement des actions du Seigneur? S’il était devenu Dieu alors qu’il ne l’était pas, s’il avait été promu à une dignité royale qu’il n’eût point déjà possédée, vos discours auraient quelque ombre de vraisemblance. Mais s’il est Dieu et si le trône de sa royauté est éternel, comment un Dieu a-t-il pu progresser? Que manquait-il à celui qui était assis sur le trône du Père ? Et si, d’autre part, comme le Seigneur lui-même l’a dit, l’Esprit est son Esprit à lui, s’il reçoit du sien (cf. Jn 16:14) et si lui-même l’envoie (cf. Jn 16:7), ce n’est pas le Verbe, en tant que Verbe et Sagesse, qui est oint de l’Esprit qu’il donne, mais c’est la chair assumée par lui qui est ointe en lui et par lui, pour que la sanctification, venant sur l’homme qu’est le Seigneur, vienne de lui sur tous les hommes…27.

L’exégèse athanasienne du Psaume se développe selon la visée sotériologique de l’incarnation qui l’amène à décréter que l’onction ne porte pas sur le Fils de Dieu éternel et préexistant, mais sur sa condition humaine, non pour son rang de fils de Dieu. Cf. la lettre d’Alexandre d’Alexandrie à Alexandre de Thessalonique (datée de 324) (éd. H.G Opitz, Athanasius Werke, Urkunden zur Geschichte des arianischen Streites, III 1 [Berlin, 1934], 21, § 11), citée par E. Cattaneo (Trois homélies pseudo-chrysostomiennes [1981], 197-8), et où se trouve le doublet ἐπιμέλεια καὶ ἄσκησις pour parler de la progression morale du Christ – expression déjà présente chez Platon, Protagoras, 323c-324a, pour parler de l’acquisition de la vertu, qui s’obtient ‘par l’application, l’exercice et l’enseignement’ (ἐξ ἐπιμελείας καὶ ἀσκήσεως καὶ διδαχῆς). E. Cattaneo fait remarquer que cette affirmation christologique s’inscrit dans un débat philosophique plus large encore sur le déterminisme dans l’homme, et la fixation dans la vertu ou dans le vice sans possibilité de changement, ce contre quoi Alexandre d’Aphrodise (IIe-IIIe s.) développe sa théorie de la liberté humaine (cf. par ex. De fato 27-8, éd. I. Bruns, Supplementum aristotelicum, II 2 [Berlin, 1892], 197.6-8; 199.3-16). Il semblerait que les ariens aient transposé cette discussion philosophique dans le champ de la christologie. 27 Athanase, Contre les ariens, I 47, éd. K. Metzler, Athanasius Werke, I, I, 2 (1998), 156.31157.12; 157.21-31: Εἰ δὲ ἡμῶν χάριν ἑαυτὸν ἁγιάζει καὶ τοῦτο ποιεῖ ὅτε γέγονεν ἄνθρωπος εὔδηλον, ὡς καὶ ἡ εἰς αὐτὸν ἐν τῷ Ἰορδάνῃ τοῦ πνεύματος γενομένη κάθοδος εἰς ἡμᾶς ἦν γινομένη διὰ τὸ φορεῖν αὐτὸν τὸ ἡμέτερον σῶμα. καὶ οὐκ ἐπὶ βελτιώσει γέγονε τοῦ λόγου, ἀλλ’ εἰς ἡμῶν πάλιν ἁγιασμόν, ἵνα τοῦ χρίσματος αὐτοῦ μεταλάβωμεν καὶ περὶ ἡμῶν λεχθείη οὐκ οἴδατε, ὅτι ναὸς θεοῦ ἐστε καὶ τὸ πνεῦμα τοῦ θεοῦ οἰκεῖ ἐν ὑμῖν; (…) ποία τοίνυν καὶ ἐκ τούτου προκοπὴ βελτιώσεως καὶ μισθὸς ἀρετῆς ἢ ἁπλῶς πράξεως τοῦ κυρίου δείκνυται; εἰ μὲν γὰρ ἐκ τοῦ μὴ εἶναι θεὸς θεὸς ἐγεγόνει, εἰ μὴ βασιλεὺς ὢν εἰς βασιλείαν προήγετο, εἶχεν ἂν ὑμῶν ὁ λόγος σκιᾶς τινος πιθανότητα. εἰ δὲ θεός ἐστι καὶ ὁ θρόνος αὐτοῦ τῆς βασιλείας αἰώνιός ἐστι, ποῦ εἶχε προκόψαι θεός; ἢ τί ἔλειπε τῷ ἐπὶ τὸν θρόνον καθημένῳ τοῦ πατρός; εἰ δὲ καί, ὡς αὐτὸς ὁ κύριος εἴρηκεν, αὐτοῦ ἐστι τὸ πνεῦμα καὶ ἐκ τοῦ αὐτοῦ λαμβάνει αὐτός τε αὐτὸ ἀποστέλλει, οὐκ ἄρα ὁ λόγος ἐστίν, ᾗ λόγος ἐστὶ καὶ σοφία, ὁ τῷ παρ’ αὐτοῦ διδομένῳ πνεύματι χριόμενος, ἀλλ’ ἡ προσληφθεῖσα παρ’ αὐτοῦ σάρξ ἐστιν, ἡ ἐν αὐτῷ καὶ παρ’ αὐτοῦ χριομένη· ἵνα καὶ ὁ ἁγιασμὸς ὡς εἰς ἄνθρωπον τὸν κύριον γινόμενος εἰς πάντας ἀνθρώπους γένηται παρ’ αὐτοῦ. Trad. fr. A. Rousseau, Les Trois Discours contre les ariens (Bruxelles, 2004), 95-7.

Réflexions christologiques dans le Commentaire sur les Psaumes d’Apolinaire

41

comportement éthique qui mériterait une récompense, mais qui doit servir d’exemple à imiter pour les autres hommes28. Cela dit, la réfutation apolinarienne de l’onction comme récompense des progrès de Jésus est poussée plus loin qu’Athanase pour deux raisons. La première est relevée par E. Mühlenberg qui note que pour Apolinaire l’onction salvatrice n’a pas lieu uniquement au moment du baptême du Christ, mais dès la conception virginale, d’où l’importance de la preuve scripturaire de Lc 1:3529. La seconde raison est qu’elle va aboutir à montrer la différence ontologique de l’humanité du Christ par rapport à celle des autres hommes30. Dans l’exégèse du Psaume 44:8, l’argument anti-arien consiste à prouver que l’onction tient à la parenté (κατ᾿ οἰκειότητα) entre l’Esprit et le Verbe incarné: Mais si cela n’était pas dit selon la parenté tandis que l’esprit était conjoint comme par une beauté31 de nature, l’onction serait ainsi appelée selon l’effort. Et où peut-on prouver l’effort? (…) Il est donc évident que l’action d’oindre est dite dans la mesure où elle suit la nature et non en échange d’une peine; et non pas que l’Esprit eût été donné en récompense comme à un homme, mais c’est à la fois comme à Dieu et à un homme que ce qui est apparenté de lui-même à lui-même se manifestait, de même que les hommes attribuent à Dieu la parenté lorsqu’ils disent: C’est pourquoi je te confesserai parmi les nations, Seigneur (Ps 17:50)32.

Nous n’avons pas conservé le commentaire d’Apolinaire sur le Ps 17:50, mais le verset 51, où se trouve le mot χριστός, permet de comprendre le rapprochement. 28 Athanase, Contre les ariens I 51, éd. K. Metzler, Athanasius Werke (1998), 161.7-8 : διὰ τοῦτο πάλιν ἀτρέπτου χρεία ἦν, ἵνα τὸ ἀμετάϐλητον τῆς τοῦ Λόγου δικαιοσύνης ἔχωσιν εἰκόνα καὶ τύπον πρὸς ἀρετὴν οἱ ἄνθρωποι. Pour le soubassement platonicien de l’argumentation, cf. E. Mühlenberg, ‘Apollinaris von Laodicea und origenistische Tradition’ (1985), 273. 29 Ibid. 275: ‘Der kleine, aber weitreichende Schritt über die angeführte Auslegung des Athanasius hinaus besteht also darin, vor die Jordantaufe die Heiligung bzw. Salbung beim Geschehen der Jungfrauengeburt zu setzen’. 30 Cf. E. Grünbeck, Christologische Schriftargumentation (1994), 219 : les preuves scripturaires utilisées, dont l’onction lors du baptême du Christ (Ac 10:38), permettent de prouver la manifestation de l’unité physique, décrite comme beauté, κάλλος (frg. 68 sur le Ps 44:8bc, éd. E. Mühlenberg, Psalmenkommentare [1975], 27.16 sq.), ce par quoi le Christ se distingue des autres hommes. 31 Cf. Ps 44:4b. 32 εἰ δὲ μὴ ὡς φυσικῷ κάλλει συναπτομένου τοῦ πνεύματος κατ’ οἰκειότητα εἴρηται, τοῦτο δι’ ἄσκησιν ἂν ἡ χρῖσις λέγοιτο. καὶ ποῦ τὴν ἄσκησιν ἔχει τις ἐπιδεῖξαι; (…) δῆλον ἄρα ὅτι ὡς ἑπόμενον φύσει καὶ οὐχ ὡς ἀντιδεδομένον πόνῳ τὸ τῆς χρίσεως εἴρηται καὶ οὐχ ὡς ἀνθρώπῳ μισθὸς τὸ πνεῦμα ἐδίδοτο (καίτοι καὶ τοῦτο δυνατόν· χάριτι γὰρ καὶ οὐ μισθῷ τὸ πνεῦμα δίδωσιν ὁ θεός) ἀλλ’ ὡς θεῷ ἅμα καὶ ἀνθρώπῳ τὸ οἰκεῖον παρ’ αὐτοῦ τε καὶ εἰς αὐτὸν ἐξεφαίνετο, καθάπερ θεῷ ἄνθρωποι τὸ οἰκεῖον προσάγοντες λέγομεν Διὰ τοῦτο ἐξομολογήσομαί σοι ἐν ἔθνεσι, κύριε. L’exégèse du Psaume 17 par Apolinaire n’a pas été transmise par les chaînes. Ce passage met à mal le jugement trop hâtif, nous semble-t-il, d’E. Mühlenberg, qui considère que l’exégèse d’Apolinaire ne repose pas sur la distinction méthodologique de ce qui revient au Logos préexistant et au temps de l’incarnation. La différenciation, pourtant notée, est comme reportée sur le composé humano-divin. En ce sens, nous rejoignons l’appréciation d’E. Grünbeck, Christologische Schriftargumentation (1994), 218, n. 98.

H. GRELIER-DENEUX

42

Il y est dit en effet: ‘Il magnifie le salut de son roi et prend en pitié son Christ, David et sa descendance pour l’éternité’ (μεγαλύνων τὰς σωτηρίας τοῦ βασιλέως αὐτοῦ καὶ ποιῶν ἔλεος τῷ χριστῷ αὐτοῦ, / τῷ Δαυιδ καὶ τῷ σπέρματι αὐτοῦ ἕως αἰῶνος). Il semble que par τὸ οἰκεῖον Apolinaire entende ce qui dans le Christ est partagé, en propre, avec le Père. En ce sens, le terme paraît avoir un sens proche de φύσις également employé plus haut. Par ailleurs, Apolinaire n’utilise pas le terme προκοπή pour montrer l’absence de progression du Christ33, mais ἄσκησις, qui comprend l’idée d’effort (πόνος). Étonnamment, d’après les outils numériques consultés, je n’ai pas trouvé d’autres emplois de ce terme à propos de l’exégèse du Psaume 44:8 en dehors d’Apolinaire, qui cherche à montrer que puisqu’il n’y a pas de progression dans la sagesse, la force et la puissance, attributs divins par excellence34, l’onction concerne la nature du Verbe incarné, à la fois homme et Dieu (ὡς θεῷ ἅμα καὶ ἀνθρώπῳ). Or cet argument de l’absence d’effort dans le Verbe incarné revient à deux autres reprises dans les fragments d’Apolinaire: – l’un, tiré de l’Apodeixis (n°75), réfuté par Grégoire de Nysse dans son Antirrhétique: Εἴ τι πλέον ἕτερος ἑτέρου κομίζεται, τοῦτο δι᾿ ἄσκησιν γίνεται· οὐδεμία δὲ ἄσκησις ἐν Χριστῷ· οὐκ ἄρα νοῦς ἐστιν ἀνθρώπινος. Si l’un se procure quelque chose de plus qu’un autre, cela arrive par un effort; or il n’y a aucun effort dans le Christ, donc son intellect n’est pas celui d’un homme35.

L’absence d’effort (ἄσκησις) dans le verbe incarné sert alors à démontrer qu’il n’y a pas de νοῦς humain dans le Christ. Cela sous-entend que pour qu’il y ait effort, il faut la présence d’un intellect humain, siège de volonté et de détermination, et organe d’apprentissage36. La perfection morale du Christ implique donc une constitution humaine différente de celle des autres hommes37.

33

Athanase, Contre les ariens I 47, éd. K. Metzler, Athanasius Werke, 157.21-32. Apolinaire, frg. 68 sur le Ps 44:8, éd. E. Mühlenberg, Psalmenkommentare (1975), 27.1821: τίς δὲ μαθήσεως πόνος παρὰ Χριστῷ, ἵνα καὶ πόνων ἀντίδοσις ᾖ ἁγιασμός; καὶ τῇ μὲν φιλοπόνῳ μαθήσει τὸ τῆς σοφίας ἐπιγένηται πνεῦμα, τῇ δὲ πρὸς τὰ ἡδέα μάχῃ τὸ καρτερὸν καὶ δυνατὸν διὰ πνεύματος ἐπισφραγισθῇ; (‘Quelle peine dans l’apprentissage y a-t-il chez le Christ pour que la sanctification soit donnée en échange de peines? Et pour que l’esprit de sagesse survienne à force d’apprentissage laborieux, que la force et la puissance soient imprimées par le moyen de l’Esprit en un combat pour des biens agréables ?’). 35 Apolinaire, Apodeixis, frg. 75, éd. H. Lietzmann, Apollinaris (1904), 222, transmis par Grégoire de Nysse, Antirrhétique, éd. F. Müller (1958), 192.27. 36 Cf. Apolinaire, Epître aux évêques de Diocésarée, § 2, éd. H. Lietzmann, Apollinaris (1904), 256.4-7. 37 Cf. la synthèse récente de la christologie apolinarienne par Brian E. Daley, God Visible: Patristic Christology Reconsidered (Oxford, 2018), 132-3. 34

Réflexions christologiques dans le Commentaire sur les Psaumes d’Apolinaire

43

– Un autre fragment (n°114) sur l’Évangile de Jean 15 donne une explication éclairante de la façon dont Apolinaire conçoit l’absence d’ἄσκησις dans le Christ: Pour le Seigneur, accomplir tout ce qui plaît au Père était conforme à sa nature et il n’avait aucune peine ni sollicitude ni effort pour cela, tandis que nous, c’est avec peine que nous agissons droitement; lui, il garde les volontés du Père non dans l’espoir d’obtenir une récompense, tandis que nous, c’est en vue d’une récompense que nous supportons la peine et que nous nous efforçons de garder les commandements. Donc la manière qu’a le Seigneur d’aimer le Père est différente de la nôtre38.

La différence entre le Verbe incarné et les autres hommes tient au fait qu’il est dans sa nature (φύσις) d’agir conformément à la volonté de son Père, là où nous le faisons avec peine et effort (ἄσκησις), en vue d’être récompensés par Dieu. En somme, plus largement que dans un contexte anti-arien, cet argument de l’absence de progrès ou d’effort dans le Christ sert à prouver sa différence ontologique par rapport aux autres hommes. Ce faisant, Apolinaire combine deux réponses, l’une envers les interprétations ariennes, l’autre envers ses confrères antiochiens ; son exégèse ne consiste pas à distinguer, selon une méthode exégétique habituelle à son époque, les versets qui concernent l’humanité du Verbe incarné et ceux qui portent sur sa divinité, comme on l’a vu chez l’un de ses contemporains, Diodore, sur le même passage ; Apolinaire insiste au contraire sur la corrélation physique entre les deux composantes du Christ, tout autant bénéficiaires de l’onction. IV. La portée de l’onction, sanctification de toute l’humanité À l’instar d’Athanase, le dernier mouvement de l’exégèse du verset conservé révèle toute la dynamique sotériologique de l’onction (τῆς χρίσεως τὴν πρόφασιν) qui vise à sanctifier les autres hommes par participation (μετοχή). Reste à définir ce en quoi consiste cette participation. C’est tout l’objet de ce dernier pan argumentatif, qui pose toutefois des problèmes textuels: En disant les participants, il a montré en même temps la visée de l’onction: en effet c’est pour que l’onction par participation puisse se faire proche [de nous] que l’onction par participation s’est produite. Puisqu’une aussi grande onction ne devait pas porter sur le Seigneur qui est saint par sa propre nature, qui devint saint, qui infusa dans son 38 Apolinaire, frg. 114 sur Jn 15:9-10, éd. Joseph Reuss, Johannes-Kommentare aus der griechischen Kirche (Berlin, 1966), 46: τῷ μὲν γὰρ κυρίῳ κατὰ φύσιν ἦν ἅπαντα πληροῦν τὰ ἀρέσκοντα πατρὶ καὶ πόνος οὐδεὶς οὐδὲ ἐπιμέλεια οὐδὲ ἄσκησις περὶ τοῦτο, ἡμῖν δὲ διὰ πόνου τὸ κατόρθωμα. καὶ ὁ μὲν οὐκ ἐλπίδι μισθοῦ τὰ πατρὸς τηρεῖ βουλήματα, ἡμεῖς δὲ ἐπὶ μισθῷ τὸν πόνον ὑπομένομεν καὶ τὴν τήρησιν τῶν ἐντολῶν ἐξασκοῦμεν. ἕτερος ἄρα τρόπος τῆς ἀγάπης τοῦ κυρίου πρὸς τὸν πατέρα, ἕτερος δὲ ἡμῖν πρὸς αὐτόν.

H. GRELIER-DENEUX

44

corps la sainteté de façon innée, qui, par celle-ci, mena à son accomplissement le genre humain jusqu’à maturité, mais puisque ce caractère saint par nature n’était pas en nous ni même possible chez les hommes, mais qu’il nécessite le don et la grâce célestes, pour cette raison l’Esprit vint sur le Christ pour montrer qu’il vient à nous qu’il conduit à la participation de l’Esprit du fait de notre affinité corporelle39.

À la différence d’Athanase dont la portée sotériologique du même verset est tout aussi importante, Apolinaire axe son analyse sur la façon dont l’onction sanctifiante touche l’humanité particulière du Verbe, et ce faisant, se répercute sur l’humanité universelle en vertu de leur affinité corporelle commune (διὰ τῆς κατὰ σῶμα συγγενείας). Là encore, il insiste sur la nature sanctifiante (φύσις) du Verbe. L’argument n’est donc pas de même nature que celui d’Athanase qui soulignait au contraire la différence de niveau ontologique entre celui qui est oint par nature et ceux qui le sont par ‘participation’40. Si les versets 7-8 du Psaume 44 ne sont cités dans aucun des fragments doctrinaux édités par H. Lietzmann, en revanche, Lc 1:35 et Ac 10:38, donnés à l’appui de l’exégèse du Psaume 44, sont exploités dans l’opuscule doctrinal De unione pour montrer comment procède la sanctification de l’humanité41. Apolinaire déclare alors que l’onction de l’Esprit saint n’a lieu qu’au moment de l’incarnation ‘parce que celui qui donne l’Esprit est le Verbe de Dieu, non qu’il soit sanctifié dans l’esprit (ὅτι δοτὴρ τοῦ πνεύματος ὁ τοῦ θεοῦ λόγος, οὐχ ἁγιαζόμενος ἐν πνεύματι)’42. Cette précision donne à penser que le πνεῦμα acteur de la sanctification n’est pas la personne de l’Esprit Saint, mais la composante divine du Christ qui agit sur sa chair. L’expression est alors justifiée par Jn 17:19: ‘je me sanctifie moi-même pour eux, afin qu’eux-mêmes soient sanctifiés dans la vérité’ (ὑπὲρ αὐτῶν ἐγὼ ἁγιάζω ἐμαυτὸν ἴνα ὦσιν αὐτοὶ ἡγιασμένοι ἐν ἀληθείᾳ). 39

Apolinaire, frg. 68 sur le Ps 44:8, éd. E. Mühlenberg, Psalmenkommentare (1975), 27.2828.8: Τοὺς δὲ μετόχους εἰπὼν ἔδειξεν ἅμα καὶ τῆς χρίσεως τὴν πρόφασιν· ἵνα γὰρ ἡ κατὰ μετουσίαν προχωρήσῃ χρῖσις, διὰ τοῦτο καὶ ἡ κατὰ μετουσίαν προσελήλυθεν. ἐπεὶ ὅσον γε ἐπὶ τῷ κυρίῳ χρίσεως οὐκ ἔδει αὐτοφυῶς ἁγίῳ ὄντι καὶ ἁγίῳ γενομένῳ καὶ τὴν ἁγιότητα τῷ σώματι ἔμφυτον ἐντεθηκότι καὶ ταύτῃ τὸ ἀνθρώπειον εἶδος πρὸς τὴν ἡλικίαν τελειοῦντι, ἀλλ’ ἐπεὶ τοῦτο οὐκ ἦν ἐν ἡμῖν οὐδὲ δυνατὸν ἐν ἀνθρώποις τὸ ἐκ φύσεως ἅγιον, δωρεᾶς δὲ δεῖ καὶ χάριτος οὐρανίου, διὰ τοῦτο ἐπὶ Χριστὸν τὸ πνεῦμα, ἵνα εἰς ἡμᾶς ἐξ αὐτοῦ πρὸς τὴν μετοχὴν τοῦ πνεύματος ἀγομένους δείξῃ διὰ τῆς κατὰ σῶμα συγγενείας. 40 Cf. analyse d’E. Mühlenberg, ‘Apollinaris von Laodicea und die origenistische Tradition’ (1985), 273. 41 Œuvre transmise sous le nom Jules de Rome. H. Lietzmann, dans Apollinaris (1904), 138, considère que l’œuvre appartient à la première période d’écriture d’Apolinaire en raison du soubassement anthropologique dichotomite. Ce type d’argument reste fort discutable (cf. par ex. E. Mühlenberg, ‘Apollinaris von Laodicea und die origenistische Tradition’ [1985], 277 dont nous rejoignons le point de vue : les bases et le cadre de la christologie demeurent identiques et la théologie d’Apolinaire ne change pas fondamentalement. Cf. aussi H. Grelier, L’argumentation de Grégoire de Nysse contre Apolinaire (2008), III 552-70. 42 Apolinaire, De unione, 9, éd. H. Lietzmann, Apollinaris (1904), 189.8-9.

Réflexions christologiques dans le Commentaire sur les Psaumes d’Apolinaire

45

Cette exégèse renvoie à un modèle de christologie pneumatique, comme l’a montré Manlio Simonetti dans son article ‘Note di cristologia pneumatica’43, qui définissait en effet par le terme de πνεῦμα la composante divine en Jésus ou le Logos préexistant, en raison d’une assimilation devenue courante à partir du IIe siècle entre le Logos et le pneuma, sous l’influence stoïcienne. Une telle lecture, différente de l’exégèse du Ps 44:8, s’inscrit dans un contexte où il s’agit de prouver que dans le Christ, ce n’est pas un autre qui sanctifie un autre ‘comme l’Esprit sanctifie les prophètes et les apôtres’ (§ 10). Apolinaire explique alors que c’est le Verbe qui se sanctifie lui-même: La nature humaine tout entière est dans le fait d’être sanctifiée et non dans le fait de sanctifier. Et la légion des anges également, et toute la création est sanctifiée et illuminée, tandis que l’esprit sanctifie et illumine. Le Verbe sanctifie et illumine par son esprit, mais n’est nullement sanctifié, car il est créateur et non créature. Au contraire, le fait d’être sanctifié est là où il y a le fait d’être incarné, et les actions sont distinctes, mais unifiées en vertu de l’union de la chair avec la divinité, de sorte qu’on ne peut séparer d’un côté celui qui sanctifie, et d’un autre, celui qui est sanctifié, mais l’incarnation en elle-même intégralement est sanctification, et l’intégralité dans une conjonction intégrale44.

Le vocabulaire technique utilisé dans ce passage, ἕνωσις, pour définir la corrélation de la chair et de la divinité dans le Verbe est poussé plus loin que notre fragment sur le Psaume 44 où les termes οἰκεῖον et σχέσις définissent une modalité d’union plus lâche. La conséquence qu’en tire Apolinaire est ainsi formulée: ‘Ainsi le corps vit par l’action sanctifiante de la divinité et non par la constitution d’une âme humaine’ (οὕτω γὰρ ἔζησεν τὸ σῶμα θεότητος ἁγιασμῷ καὶ οὐκ ἀνθρωπίνης ψυχῆς κατασκευῇ καὶ ὅλως τὸ ὅλον ἐν συναφείᾳ)45. Ainsi, le principe vital dans le Christ n’est pas sa ψυχή, mais sa divinité. On voit bien ici ce qui amène Apolinaire à nier l’existence d’une ψυχή ou d’un νοῦς humain dans le Verbe incarné pour ne pas faire obstacle à l’action sanctifiante, et partant salvatrice, de Dieu envers l’humanité46. Mais de telles 43

M. Simonetti, ‘Note di cristologia pneumatica’, Augustinianum 12 (1972), 209. Apolinaire, De unione, 11, éd. H. Lietzmann, Apollinaris (1904), 190.3-12: ὁλη ἡ ἀνθρωπίνη φύσις ἐν τῷ ἁγιάζεσθαι καὶ οὐκ ἐν τῷ ἁγιάζειν. καὶ τὸ ἀγγελικὸν τάγμα ὡσαύτως καὶ πᾶσα ἡ κτίσις ἁγιαζομένη ἐστὶ καὶ φωτιζομένη, ἁγιάζον δὲ τὸ πνεῦμα καὶ φωτίζον. Ἁγιάζων [δὲ] ὁ λόγος διὰ τοῦ πνεύματος καὶ φωτίζων, ἁγιαζόμενος δὲ οὐδαμῶς, κτίστης γὰρ καὶ οὐ κτίσμα. Ἀλλὰ ἐνταῦθα τὸ ἁγιάζεσθαι, ἔνθα καὶ τὸ σεσωματῶσθαι, καὶ διῄρηται μέν τὰ πράγματα, ἥνωται δὲ κατὰ τὴν τῆς σαρκὸς πρὸς θεότητα ἕνωσιν, ὥστε μὴ διαστέλλεσθαι ἕτερον τὸν ἁγιάζοντα καὶ ἕτερον τὸν ἁγιαζόμενον, καὶ αὕτη δὲ ὅλως ἡ σάρκωσις ἐστιν ἁγιασμός. 45 Ibid. 190.17-9. 46 L’une des questions que pose le rapprochement de ces deux textes, le De unione et le commentaire sur les Psaumes, est leur rapport chronologique. L’hypothèse désormais ancienne d’H. Lietzmann (Apollinaris [1904], 138) selon laquelle le De unione aurait été rédigé dans la première période d’activité doctrinale d’Apolinaire car la réflexion s’élabore à partir d’un schéma anthropologique dichotomite et non trichotomite, à la suite du jugement antique de Rufin, ne peut 44

46

H. GRELIER-DENEUX

conséquences, ontologiques, ne sont pas exposées, à notre connaissance, dans le Commentaire aux Psaumes, aussi bien dans le fragment qui nous occupe que sur les autres Psaumes47. En conclusion de ces analyses circonscrites, nous retiendrons trois points: tout d’abord, l’exégèse de mêmes versets, Lc 1:35 et Ac 10:38, prend un tour différent selon le contexte argumentatif. En effet, dans le commentaire sur le Ps 44, le pneuma, vecteur de l’onction, désigne la troisième personne trinitaire, alors que dans le De unione, il renvoie à la composante divine du Christ, selon un modèle de christologie pneumatique. Deuxièmement, à la différence de ses pairs antiochiens commentant le même verset, Apolinaire ne se contente pas ici de répartir les versets du psaumes selon qu’ils portent sur l’humanité du Verbe ou sa divinité – ce qu’il fait lui-même pour l’exégèse du Ps 109:1 dans son Peri sarkôsis par exemple –, mais il insiste au contraire sur l’articulation entre les deux composantes humaine et divine pour tenter d’expliquer comment la sanctification de la nature humaine particulière du Christ atteint l’humanité universelle. C’est le point qui polarise son exégèse. Les termes techniques alors utilisés pour dire l’unité de sujet du Christ sont σχέσις, οἰκειότης, συγγενεία, repris des discussions trinitaires. Mais on ne trouve pas le vocabulaire technique qui décrit l’union intime (ἕνωσις) des composantes humaines et divines comme dans des fragments et opuscules doctrinaux dont l’objet est souvent plus spécifiquement le mode d’union de la divinité et de l’humanité.

être confirmée sans pour autant que l’on puisse préciser davantage la datation de cette œuvre. Pour ce qui est du Commentaire sur les psaumes, personne ne s’est hasardé à proposer une datation, car le matériau si fragmentaire rend trop ardue la question. En revanche, le rapprochement textuel que nous avons opéré pose la question de savoir sur quelle période de production théologique Apolinaire s’est engagé dans le débat anti-arien : faut-il imaginer qu’il développe ses arguments durant toute sa carrière littéraire ou seulement durant une partie ? Selon Kelley McCarthy Spoerl, l’évolution de la christologie d’Apolinaire fondée sur une anthropologie tripartite serait une façon de répondre plus adéquatement à la doctrine soutenue par les ariens des premières générations, revendiquant un Logos créé, muable, capable de péché (cf. ‘Apollinarius and the Response to Early Arian Christology’, SP 26 (1993), 421-7. La réception antique de la christologie d’Apolinaire rend toutefois complexe l’appréciation de l’évolution doctrinale de celui-ci et la chronologie de ses œuvres comme en atteste l’article de Hans Christof Brennecke, ‘«Apollinaristischer Arianismus» oder «arianischer Apollinarismus»’, dans S.P. Bergjan, B. Gleede et M. Heimgartner (éd.), Apollinarius und seine Folgen (2015), 73-92. 47 C’est probablement l’une des raisons qui amène E. Mühlenberg à conclure : ‘Denn man hat schon Mühe, die besondere apollinaristische Christologie in den Bibelauslegungen nachzuweisen’ dans son article ‘Exegetische Methode des Apollinaris’ (1992), 147, après avoir qualifié assez sévèrement la christologie de l’auteur de naïve et d’univoque sans distinction de méthode entre le Verbe préexistant et le temps de l’incarnation (ibid. 138, 141). L’appréciation nous semble peu tenir compte des enjeux d’analyse respectifs de l’auteur selon qu’il rédige un commentaire exégétique suivi ou qu’il expose sa confession de foi dans un opuscule doctrinal.

Réflexions christologiques dans le Commentaire sur les Psaumes d’Apolinaire

47

Finalement, ce long fragment a montré une fois de plus comment l’exégèse est inextricablement liée, bien que discrètement, aux polémiques doctrinales de l’époque en matière trinitaire ou christologique. C’est ce qui justifie les comparaisons avec des fragments doctrinaux dont l’authenticité est plutôt assurée, même si l’impossible datation des diverses sources utilisées rend quelque peu artificiels ces rapprochements, détachés de leur contexte historique et d’une évolution possible de la pensée de l’auteur. Mais l’enquête aura illustré que la réflexion d’un théologien n’est pas univoque ; la confrontation de fragments exégétiques avec les opuscules doctrinaux d’Apolinaire ne fait que révéler une palette de réflexions christologiques plus nuancée encore qu’on ne l’aurait soupçonnée initialement.

Christ’s Subjection and Human Salvation in Gregory of Nyssa’s In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius Kirsten H. ANDERSON, University of Notre Dame, South Bend, IN, USA

ABSTRACT Gregory’s In illud: Tunc et ipse filius centers on the concept of subjection in 1Cor. 15:25-28, and aims both to ward off unorthodox interpretations of the Son’s subordination to the Father and to develop a picture of what Paul really meant by that term. Gregory rejects ‘slavish lowliness’ as a possible interpretation of this ‘subjection’, not only in reference to Christ but also in reference to humanity. This parallel rejection is striking in view of the ontological and moral distinctions that Gregory elsewhere draws, using language of slavery and lowliness, between humanity and God. It reflects an important aspect of human salvation emphasized in the treatise: the entrance of human beings into the parity and intimacy with God that the Son himself has with the Father.

In his In illud: Tunc et ipse filius, Gregory of Nyssa addresses the concept of ‘subjection’ (ὑποταγή) in 1Corinthians 15:25-8. The Pauline passage reads, 25 For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. 26 The last enemy to be destroyed is death. 27 ‘For he has put all things in subjection under his feet’. But when it says that he put all things in subjection, it is plain that this does not include the one who put all things in subjection under him. 28 When all things are subjected to him, then he will also be subjected to the one who put all things in subjection under him, so that God may be all in all.1

Scholarly interest in Gregory’s short treatise on this passage has largely centered on two points: first, how the concept of subjection functions in the Trinitarian controversies, specifically in the debate with Eunomius of Cyzicus; second, how the passage testifies to Gregory’s teaching of the ἀποκατάστασις, the final salvation of all.2 On the first point, subjection poses a problem of 1 This is how Gregory’s quotation of the text reads (In Illud: Tunc et ipse filius, ed. J. Kenneth Downing, GNO III/2 [Leiden, 1987], 17.6-12), as translated by Rowan A. Greer and J. Warren Smith, in One Path for All: Gregory of Nyssa on the Christian Life and Human Destiny (Eugene, OR, 2015), 118-32, 125. Unless otherwise noted, all other English translations of this text are my own. 2 See Reinhard M. Hübner, Die Einheit des Leibes Christi bei Gregor von Nyssa: Untersuchungen zum Ursprung der ‘Physischen’ Erlösungslehre (Leiden, 1974), 29-41; Johannes Zachhuber,

Studia Patristica CXII, 49-60. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

50

K.H. ANDERSON

apparent subordination of the Son to the Father;3 Gregory resolves this tension by reading the Son’s subjection as the subjection of the Son’s body, that is, all of humanity joined to Christ.4 On the second point, subjection, if taken in this corporate sense, appears to Gregory to imply salvation for all, since subjection to God is the soul’s salvation, according to Ps. 61:2. In attending to these two points, readers of Gregory recognize the important ramifications of Gregory’s treatment of ‘subjection’ for certain major components of his theology, but the meaning of ‘subjection’ remains underexamined.5 Gregory opens the treatise with a concern about those who misread Paul’s words as a confirmation of a ‘slavish lowliness’ (δουλικὴ ταπεινότης) of the ‘Only-Begotten God’.6 Gregory writes the treatise in rejection of this interpretation. What calls for more attention is that this rejection of ‘slavish lowliness’ is made for humanity, as well. Toward the very end of the treatise, Gregory says, At that time, in the subjection of us all, which is not understood as some sort of slavish lowliness (δουλικὴ … ταπεινότης), but rule (βασιλεία), incorruptibility (ἀφθαρσία), and happiness (μακαριότης), he who lives in us is said by Paul to be subjected to God,

Human Nature in Gregory of Nyssa: Philosophical Background and Theological Significance (Leiden, 2000), 204-12; Ilaria Ramelli, ‘Gregory of Nyssa’s Trinitarian Theology in In Illud: Tunc et Ipse Filius. His Polemic against ‘Arian’ Subordinationism and the Ἀποκατάστασις’, in Volker Henning Drecoll and Margitta Berghaus (eds), Gregory of Nyssa: The Minor Treatises on Trinitarian Theology and Apollinarism (Leiden, 2011), 445-78; ead., ‘Christian Soteriology and Christian Platonism: Origen, Gregory of Nyssa, and the Biblical and Philosophical Basis of the Doctrine of Apokatastasis’, Vigiliae Christianae 61 (2007), 313-56, 328-38; Morwenna Ludlow, Universal Salvation: Eschatology in the Thought of Gregory of Nyssa and Karl Rahner (Oxford, 2000), 86-95. 3 Gregory addresses Eunomius’ view of the subjection of the Son to the Father in Contra Eunomium III 8.43-58, ed. Werner Jaeger, GNO II (Leiden, 1960), 254.26-261.3 and Refutatio confessionis Eunomii 198-201, ed. Werner Jaeger, GNO II (Leiden 1960), 396.1-397.20. 4 Understanding the ὑποταγή of Christ to the Father as the subjection of Christ’s ecclesial body had become standard for many authors leading up to Gregory of Nyssa, as is attested by Joseph Lienhard’s brief history of the interpretation of this passage in ‘The Exegesis of 1 Cor 15, 24-28 from Marcellus of Ancyra to Theodoret of Cyrus’, Vigiliae Christianae 37 (1983), 340-59. For a detailed analysis of Gregory’s heavy exegetical and argumentative debt to Origen, in particular, see I. Ramelli, ‘Christian Soteriology and Christian Platonism: Origen, Gregory of Nyssa, and the Biblical and Philosophical Basis of the Doctrine of Apokatastasis’ (2007), 328-38. 5 Francisco Bastitta Harriet does give this aspect of the text some important attention in his ‘La persona del Hijo entre sumisión y libertad: las intuiciones antropológicas del In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius de Gregorio de Nisa’, in Á Hernández, S. Villalonga and P. Ciner (eds), La identidad de Jesús: unidad y diversidad en la época de la Patrísticos (San Juan, 2013). I thank him for his comments on the original version of this paper delivered at the Oxford International Patristics Conference in 2019. 6 Gregory of Nyssa, In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius, GNO III/2, 4.6-10. He is clearly thinking about the Eunomian view. I will use ‘lowliness’ for ταπεινότης, rather than other more usual translation choices of ‘humiliation’ or ‘humility’, since the English word ‘lowliness’ can convey such a disposition while also implying a position or status that is low.

Christ’s Subjection and Human Salvation in In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius

51

he who is bringing our good to perfection through himself and is effecting in us what is well-pleasing to him.7

The ‘subjection’ of the Son and the ‘subjection’ of all humanity are generally understood to be different kinds of subjection: the ‘subjection’ of the Son is really the subjection of the Son’s body, united to Christ, while the ‘subjection’ of all humanity to the Son indicates the relation of participation that all humanity has eschatologically to Christ. According to these concluding lines of the treatise, however, there is something that the subjection of both Son and body share in common: the exclusion of ‘slavish lowliness’. This may be easy to pass over because the transfer of reference from the Only-Begotten to his corporate body figures so prominently as to suggest that any problematic aspects of the concept ‘subjection’ for the Son are dissolved when the word is revealed to apply properly to humanity, for which such implications are not problematic. That Gregory repeats his rejection of slavish lowliness at the end of the treatise, however, this time in reference to ‘all of us’, prompts a closer look at the meaning of ‘subjection’ as affirmed of both Christ and humanity – suggesting more similarity between Christ and humanity in this treatise than is usually granted. The rejection of slavish lowliness for human salvation is surprising on a number of counts. Until we see the surprising character of this rejection, we will fail to appreciate the significance of the treatise’s claim about human salvation as the outgrowth of Christ as the first-fruits in the mass of humanity’s dough. In signifying salvation, 1Cor.’s ‘subjection’ is stretched beyond the bounds of its conventional use, indicating elevation rather than subordination. It signifies the life of Christ unfolding within his body, not the subordination of his body under him as to an external ruling force. Thus, it involves intimacy and friendship with God like the Son has with the Father, a relation that fundamentally excludes any abject disposition of a lowly slave. To begin, why is it surprising to see ‘slavish lowliness’ rejected of human beings? In the first half of the treatise, Gregory walks through four different senses of ‘subjection’ used in the Scriptures, rejecting each in the case of the Only-Begotten: (1) slaves subject by law to the rule of their masters (Eph. 6:5, 1Pet. 2:18), (2) enemies in war subject by force to their conquerors (Ps. 46:4), (3) nonrational animals subject by nature to the governance of rational humans (Ps. 8:8), and (4) the soul subject in a salvific relationship to God (Ps. 61:2).8 The fourth sense in this initial list immediately suggests a distinction between human beings and the Only-Begotten God: subjection is appropriate for us, not him. The Son is not of a subordinate ontological status like an entity that 7 Ibid. GNO III/2, 28.7-11: τότε ἐν τῇ πάντων ἡμῶν ὑποταγῇ, ἥτις οὐχὶ δουλικὴ νοεῖται ταπεινότης ἀλλὰ βασιλεία καὶ ἀφθαρσία καὶ μακαριότης, ὁ ἐν ἡμῖν ζῶν ὑποταγήσεσθαι τῷ θεῷ παρὰ τοῦ Παύλου λέγεται, ὁ τὸ ἀγαθὸν ἡμῶν δι’ ἑαυτοῦ τελειῶν καὶ ποιῶν ἑαυτῷ ἐν ἡμῖν τὸ εὐάρεστον. 8 Ibid. GNO III/2, 4.15-7.18.

K.H. ANDERSON

52

receives the good by participation rather than possessing it in itself. Gregory explains, For the changeable nature (τρεπτῆς φύσεως), which comes to be in the good only through participation (διὰ μετουσίας), subjection to God is necessary, because from it communion in good things comes about for us … But for the unchangeable power (ἀναλλοιώτῳ δυνάμει) ‘subjection’ has no place, in whom every good predicate (ὀνομά) and conception (νόημα) is contemplated: eternity, incorruptibility, happiness, staying always the same, being incapable of worse and better. No addition in good can be received, nor a turn toward the worse. For He is the fount of salvation for others, not himself in need of someone to save him.9

According to this explanation, subjection in the sense of the soul’s salvation is the kind of thing that can only apply to creatures who depend on participating in something else in order to receive what they in themselves are not. In other words, subjection points to a fundamental ontological distinction between what must receive good things from another and what is itself the source of good things. This ontological distinction plays a major role in Gregory’s Christology and theology of creation. Across his works, he often articulates it using a master-slave framework. In so doing, he taps into an ancient trope of characterizing the difference between the divine and human as that between master and slave, which continued to play a significant role in early Christian discourse, as Chris de Wet has shown in his recent monograph.10 Gregory and his brother Basil made frequent use of this discourse in their polemical exchange with Eunomius. They pressed him to classify the Son and the Holy Spirit on the side of creatormaster or on the side of created-slave. They would entertain no middle ground of a high-ranking, honorable servant, as Eunomius purportedly tried to cast his own view of the Son’s rank. Within this context, then, rejecting ‘slavish lowliness’ of the Only-Begotten seems tantamount to denying that he is on the side of the created rather than that of the creator. In many works, both in and outside of the polemical context, Gregory is perfectly comfortable talking about human beings, along with all creation, as ‘slaves’ (δουλοί) in respect to God and as speaking of this created state in terms of ‘lowliness’ (ταπεινότης). ‘To be a slave is characteristic (ἴδιον) of a creature᾽, he says in his third homily on the Lord’s Prayer.11 In his third book against Eunomius, closely contemporaneous with Tunc et Ipse, he cites Ps. 119, ‘All things serve you’, to this effect: if the Only-Begotten Son is created, then 9

Ibid. GNO III/2, 7.4-14. Chris L. De Wet, The Unbound God: Slavery and the Formation of Early Christian Thought (London, 2018). 11 Gregory of Nyssa, De oratione dominica 3, ed. J.F. Callahan, GNO VII/2 (Leiden, 1992), 40.8: ἴδιον γὰρ τῆς κτίσεως τὸ δουλεύειν. Translation is mine; other English quotations of this text are taken with modification from Hilda Graef, St. Gregory of Nyssa: The Lord’s Prayer, The Beatitudes (New York, 1954), 21-84. 10

Christ’s Subjection and Human Salvation in In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius

53

he is on the side of the slave and not on the side of master: ‘For if the whole creation is in servitude, and the Son is, as you say, created, He is clearly a fellow-slave with all things, being dragged down by his partaking of creation to partake also of slavery’.12 The same arguments are made concerning the Holy Spirit in Or Dom 3. If the Holy Spirit is in a position of the lowliness of a slave (ταπεινότητα δουλείας) on the basis of serving the will of the Son, it is a creature.13 By the category of slave, then, Gregory is often ready to differentiate the creature from the one who creates life and provides all that a creature is and has, and thus who exercises a kind of mastery. In this light, Gregory’s rejection of ‘slavish lowliness’ makes perfect sense for the proper understanding of the Son’s ‘subjection’. What comes as a surprise is his rejection of it for human beings. Within this creator-created framework, we would expect δουλικὴ ταπεινότης to be embraced in his understanding of the subjection pertaining to human beings. After all, elsewhere, he is keen on certain actions and attitudes appropriate to a subordinate ontological status occupied by humans. For instance, Gregory employs this distinction in pastoral contexts to call out those who, having acquired some kind of power over others, whether as masters over slaves, as magistrates over the accused, or as creditors over debtors, domineer over their fellow human beings in a way entirely inappropriate for one slave in relation to another. ‘It is not nature, but power that has divided mankind into slaves and masters’, he says in his fifth homily on the Lord’s Prayer.14 Really, he observes, all human beings are equally slaves to God. Those who presume to exercise mastery over others forget their status as fellow slaves and thereby trespass on the territory of their creator. Berating slave owners for this overstepping, he points out, ‘[The slave] is neither made by you, nor does he live through you, nor has he received from you his qualities of body and soul’.15 The unstated claim in Gregory’s argument is that a relationship of dominance and subjection rests upon just this sort of causal relationship. This is why God is accurately said to be ‘master’ and we ‘slaves’. We are made by God, live through God, and receive our qualities of body and soul from him. God is rightly called ‘master’ and we ‘slaves’ by these criteria. In his first homily on the Beatitudes, Gregory calls out magistrates for being particularly susceptible to this kind of overstepping. The first Beatitude is aimed precisely at combatting this ‘pride’. They ‘remain no longer within human limits, but intrude themselves into the authority of divine power. For they imagine themselves master over life and death, because, having to judge men, they bestow on some the sentence of acquittal, while condemning others 12 13 14 15

Gregory of Nyssa, Contra Eunomium III 4.37, GNO II, 148.12-5. Translation mine. Id., De oratione dominica 3, GNO VII/2, 39.21-40.8. Ibid. 5, GNO VII/2, 70.21-2. Ibid. 5, GNO VII/2, 71.7-8.

54

K.H. ANDERSON

to death’.16 To think this way is delusional, given the ontological facts, Gregory thinks. ‘How then can a man be master of another’s life, if he is not even master of his own?’ he asks.17 Gregory’s strong words reflect his conviction that there is a certain attitude appropriate for human beings to take toward one another, reflective of the ontological distinction from God which they share. Along these lines, Gregory understands the first Beatitude, ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit’, as recommending a ‘voluntary lowliness of mind’ (ἑκούσιον ταπεινοφροσύνην) that is ‘connatural’ to us since we originate from the earth and experience all the lowly limitations associated with this humble, corruptible form of bodily existence. The Only-Begotten models this ‘voluntary lowliness’ for our sake, he notes, by taking the form of a slave, as Phil. 2 attests – that is, entering human existence.18 In view of this basic distinction that Gregory regularly makes between creator as master and created as slave, it is not at all surprising that he should reject a δουλικὴ ταπεινότης in the case of the Only-Begotten, but it is surprising that he also rejects it in the case of human beings. If this ontological subordination were all that the problematic ‘slavish lowliness’ reflected, then the transfer of subjection from the Son to all of humanity making up Christ’s body would presumably resolve the issue. But this δουλικὴ ταπεινότης is rejected in the case of human salvific subjection, too. Thus, the ontological distinction and its accompanying appropriate attitudes cannot sum up what Gregory primarily has in view in rejecting slavish lowliness of 1Cor. 15’s ‘subjection’. As the treatise proceeds, another possible interpretation of ‘slavish lowliness’ comes into view: moral slavery to sin and to its consequence, death. If salvation involves liberation from these, then this would seem to explain why Gregory would reject such ‘lowliness’ also of human beings in salvation. When Gregory identifies the main point of Paul’s discussion to be the elimination of evil, it is presented in terms of liberation from a dominating and enslaving power. ‘Death had its rule (βασιλεῖαν) against humans’, thanks to sin, he indicates, nodding to Romans 5. ‘Therefore, when every evil authority and ruler in our midst has been destroyed, and when there is no longer any passion lording over our nature’, there is ‘nothing else holding power over us’.19 In this light, salvific subjection to God evidently involves liberation from the domination of evil and the correlative slavish subjection one has to it. This characterization of sin and death as dominating tyrants, salvation from which is likened to a liberation from slavery, is also common in Gregory’s 16 Id., De beatitudinis 1, ed. J.F. Callahan, GNO VII/2 (Leiden, 1992), 87.32-88.4. Translations of this work are taken with modification from H. Graef, St. Gregory of Nyssa: The Lord’s Prayer, The Beatitudes (1954), 85-176. 17 Gregory of Nyssa, De beatitudinis 1, GNO VII/2, 88.10. 18 Ibid. GNO VII/2, 83.6-7. 19 Id., In illud: Tunc et ipse filius, GNO III/2, 16.8-12.

Christ’s Subjection and Human Salvation in In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius

55

works. In this register, slavery is not cast as something fitting for us as ontologically subordinate, but something unfitting for us who were created to be free. In his third book against Eunomius, Gregory acknowledges that we do indeed occupy the status of slaves in the present situation, but then claims that God does not wish even us to be slaves. It is precisely to ‘purge our nature of such things’ that the ‘Divine Word’ took on our slavery.20 Here, the slavery language is not short-hand for creaturely limitation, but reflects the state of death, sin, and corruption that presently holds sway. In his third homily on the Beatitudes, referring to human beings in their current condition, Gregory says that ‘what was exalted has been brought low (τεταπείνωται), and … what was meant to rule (βασιλεύειν) has been enslaved (κατεδουλώθη) … the creature that had once been without a master (ἀδέσποτόν) and self-authoritative (αὐτεξούσιον) is now dominated by so many great evils that we can hardly count all our tyrants’.21 The various passions enslave the soul, he says, ‘as if it were a prisoner of war’.22 Alienation from evil, he claims in his On the Soul and the Resurrection, reverses this state of moral slavery, restoring to us the likeness to ‘that which has no master (ἀδέσποτον) and is under its own authority (αὐτεξουσίον)’.23 In other words, separation from evil gains us the freedom that we were meant to have, but lost. Along this line of thinking, we can see why Gregory might wish to deny that human salvific subjection to God means a slave’s lowliness. It is, rather, the other way around. In the present fallen condition, we are in a position of lowly slavery to tyrants like sin and death. But salvation is liberation from that slavish lowliness to the freedom and self-rule we are meant for. Yet, the very sections of text in Tunc et ipse that present salvific subjection as liberation from sin also prevent the hasty conclusion that salvation consists in liberation from any governing power whatever. In fact, these very same passages speak of liberation only in the context of another subordination taking its place. Gregory observes that Paul’s liberation from sin takes place in the context of his obedience to Christ. On Paul’s report that Christ is the one living in him (Gal. 2:20), Gregory comments, ‘Paul has put off everything which formerly dominated over him when he was a blasphemer, persecutor, and outrager. Looking to the true good alone, he has made himself obedient and compliant to it’.24 As Gregory reads the passage, Paul puts off the governing power that formerly ruled him, evil, but this happens in the context of his becoming obedient and compliant to another governing power, ‘the true good’. Similarly, 20

Id., Contra Eunomium III 8.54, GNO II, 259.12-4. Id., De beatitudinis 3, GNO VII/2, 105.26-106.7. 22 Ibid. GNO VII/2, 106.15-8. 23 Id., De anima et resurrectione, ed. Andreas Spira, GNO III/3 (Leiden, 2014), 76.7-9. Translation mine. 24 Id., In illud: Tunc et ipse filius, GNO III/2, 24.10-3. 21

K.H. ANDERSON

56

Gregory says that when the whole mass of our nature is ‘mixed in with the first fruits’ it will ‘accept the governance (ἡγεμονία) of the good alone over itself’.25 In this way, liberation from sin looks from Gregory’s description more like the transfer from subjection under one power to subjection under another. In fact, as Gregory describes it, to be liberated from evil and death seems to require coming under the rule of the life-giver instead: ‘There is no separation from evil except through being joined with God through subjection’.26 In some works, like his On the Christian Profession, Gregory capitalizes on the biblical metaphor of redemption to frame salvation in just these terms – that is, of a transfer from one slavish subjection to another: If, then, we become slaves of the One who redeemed us, we shall look exclusively towards our Master, on the grounds that we no longer live for ourselves, but for the One who possesses us, because He gave His life for us. For we are no longer lords of ourselves, but the possessions of Him who, having bought us, is the Master of His own.27

Thus, even if salvific subjection involves liberation from the lowliness of enslavement under sin, we could imagine Gregory suitably allowing for a slave’s lowliness to be part of the meaning of salvific subjection under God, the new master. This is another reason, then, that the rejection of slavish lowliness for human beings comes as a surprise. What is it that Gregory is doing by making this rejection? What does it mean? Gregory tells us that the term ‘subjection’ is being used by Paul in an unconventional way.28 (To stretch a word like this, he points out, is not at all unusual for Paul: think of his use of κενόω, to empty, to speak of Christ in Phil. 2.29) He says this in the context of discussing us and our salvation, not Christ and his ‘subjection’. In other words, it is also in reference to us that ‘subjection’ must be interpreted differently than usual. The question is, how is the term getting stretched in reference to human salvation? The lead-up to this claim is a description of Paul’s own salvific transformation, which Gregory sees as a blueprint for ours – that is, Paul’s own experience models for us the salvific subjection that all will eventually share.30 Paul describes Christ living in him (Gal. 2:19-20),31 speaking in him (2Cor. 13:3),32 and being the cause 25

Ibid. GNO III/2, 16.12-7. Ibid. GNO III/2, 25.2-4. 27 Id., De perfectione, ed. Werner Jaeger, GNO VIII/1 (Leiden, 1952), 186.16-21. English translation is from Virginia Woods Callahan, Saint Gregory of Nyssa: Ascetical Works (Washington, DC, 1967), 95-122. In this case, the slave-master dynamic derives from the imagery in the scriptural text. Thus, it is probable that Gregory is working here entirely in a metaphorical register, working within the scriptural image. 28 Gregory of Nyssa, In illud: Tunc et ipse filius, GNO III/2, 26.10-27.18. 29 Ibid. GNO III/2, 25.10-6. 30 Ibid. GNO III/2, 24.18-9. 31 Ibid. GNO III/2, 24.1-4. 32 Ibid. GNO III/2, 24.4-6. 26

Christ’s Subjection and Human Salvation in In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius

57

of all the good things he has accomplished.33 ‘Paul’s subjection to God’, Gregory concludes, ‘refers to the one living in him, who speaks in Paul and effects all good things’.34 This is what salvific subjection looks like for all of us, Gregory goes on to affirm, speaking of all those who ‘have received the Lord in themselves and has him living and working in them’.35 As he had said of Paul, he now says of us: ‘Therefore this very subjection to God refers to the one living in us’.36 In Gregory’s interpretation, the term ‘subjection’ has indeed been stretched. On the surface, salvific ‘subjection’ signifies the joining of many individuals to Christ in one salvific unity. But rather than understanding this as an ordering of subordinate parts to a superior ruling principle, Gregory understands subjection, based on Paul’s reports of his own experience, rather in terms of an animating presence of that unifying principle unfolding its own life within the many parts it joins to itself. The significance of this inversion of the word’s meaning is that it no longer fits a two-layer scheme in which inferiors succumb to a superior power, to which they remain subordinate. The interior presence and activity of the ‘superior’ power, rather, elevates the individuals it fills to be like it. This downplay of subordination and emphasis on likeness is borne out in a few notable ways within the treatise. First, it means that any role of coercion or fear is out of the picture. This is true, Gregory says, even for the ‘enemies’ of v. 25 (‘until he has put all enemies under his feet’). Although enemies are typically said to be subjected through force or fear (as reported in sense [2] at the beginning of this paper), that God’s enemies are ‘subjected’ means that they are ‘reconciled’ to him, not as ‘slaves’ but as ‘friends’. In making this claim, Gregory marshals other texts from Paul’s letters and the Gospels to support this picture of salvific subjection as an entry into friendship, to which one can be drawn by persuasion rather than force.37 The relational and interpersonal description of this reconciliation affirms the exclusion of a dispositional subordination. Reconciliation with God involves becoming God’s friend, not God’s slave. In this treatise Gregory does not go into further detail about this rejection of a slavish manner of relating to God, but he does do so in other works. We get 33

Ibid. GNO III/2, 24.6-8. Ibid. GNO III/2, 24.13-6: ἄρα καὶ ἡ ὑποταγὴ τοῦ Παύλου ἡ πρὸς τὸν θεὸν γενομένη εἰς τὸν ἐν αὐτῷ ζῶντα τὴν γίνομαι ἀναφορὰν ἔχει ὃς καὶ λαλεῖ ἐν τῷ Παύλῳ τὰ ἀγαθὰ καὶ ἐργάζεται. 35 Ibid. GNO III/2, 24.22-25.1. 36 Ibid. GNO III/2, 25.4-5: ἄρα καὶ αὐτὴ ἡ πρὸς τὸν θεὸν ὑποταγὴ εἰς τὸν ἐν ἡμῖν ζῶντα τὴν ἀναφορὰν ἔχει. 37 Gregory cites Rom. 5:8: ‘For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God’, 2Cor. 5:2: ‘We are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God’, and John 15:14-5: ‘And according to the promise found in the Gospel, having been reconciled, they will be numbered by the Lord no longer as among his servants, but as among his friends’, In illud: Tunc et ipse filius, GNO III/2, 27.1-18. 34

K.H. ANDERSON

58

a vivid example of this in his Homilies on the Lord’s Prayer. In the third homily, the petition for God’s kingdom to come is interpreted as a prayer for liberation from one ruler, evil, by entering into the rule of another, God. But Gregory makes a point of how different these two kinds of rule are: ‘God doesn’t rule by violence and domination, enforcing obedience through constraint or fear’, he says, ‘for virtue must be free from all fear and without a master (ἀδέσποτον), having elected the good by a willing choice’.38 The difference between the two types of ‘rule’ is significant. It is this difference that allows Gregory to mix the master-slave language with the freedom language, saying in a single breath both that human beings were runaways from their natural master (that is, God), and that they had exchanged liberty and companionship with God for slavery to sin and tyranny of destruction.39 The fifth homily on the Lord’s Prayer, then, picks up this thread from the third and takes it further. Gregory understands the petition, ‘Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors’, as signaling that we are to approach God as one like God, rather than below God: ‘Why do you go to God crouching with fear like a slave because your conscience pricks you? Why do you shut out holy audacity which is inherent in the freedom of the soul because it has been joined to its very essence from the beginning?’40 Gregory’s works contain many other examples like this, witnessing to the significance of this distinctive feature of human relating to God. The text of Tunc et ipse does not supply an example as vivid as the Lord’s Prayer homilies, but there is one more related point worth noting about Gregory’s treatment of subjection in the Tunc et ipse. In the course of the treatise, Gregory raises a fifth possible meaning of subjection to supplement his initial list of four: that of a child as subject in obedience to its parents due to its developmental immaturity.41 This could also have conceivably served as a model of salvific human subjection to God. But after Gregory rejects it of Christ, he does not entertain the model again for human beings. A brief look at the reasons for rejecting it of Christ is illuminating. In the case of Christ, the reason for rejection was his coming of age as a free, mature agent. Only as a child was this subordination 38

Id., De oratione dominica 3, GNO VII/2, 37.17-21. Ibid. 5, GNO VII/2, 62.25-63.5. Another way of interpreting this intertwining of masterslave framework with that of parity would follow the suggestion of Francisco Bastitta Harriet in ‘‘Does God ‘Follow’ Human Decision? An Interpretation of a Passage from Gregory of Nyssa’s De vita Moysis (II 86)’, SP 67 (2013), 101-12, where he notes that God’s respect and even acquiescence to human free decision is a function of God’s character ‘in an interpersonal sphere’ as opposed to a function of any essential or ontological fact (112-3). Likewise, we could here identify the master-slave framework as applying to the ontological relationship between creature and creator while recognizing the parity framework as the dispositional one that God wishes for his interactions with his creatures. 40 Gregory of Nyssa, De oratione dominica 5, GNO VII/2, 61.21-5. 41 Gregory of Nyssa, In illud: Tunc et ipse filius, GNO III/2, 7.18-21, citing Luke 2:51 as his Scriptural example. 39

Christ’s Subjection and Human Salvation in In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius

59

appropriate for him, due to his natural developmental inferiority. But as an adult, the time for such subjection came to an end. Gregory interprets Jesus’ question to his mother at the wedding at Cana as marking this movement to maturity: ‘What is this to me and you, woman? Is it not yet the time of my life to be granted self-rule (τὸ αὐτοκρατές) and self-authority (αὐτεξούσιον)?’42 That Gregory does not call upon this fifth sense again to model the relation of human beings to God is telling. In view of the parallel developed in the treatise between Christ and humanity, this absence of the fifth sense in any further discussion of human subjection reinforces the conclusion that human salvific subjection is not to involve a disposition of inferiority – even of a benign sort as that of a developing child vis-à-vis its mature parent. Even though it is not characterized by cruel force as is the case for the slave-master or captive-captor relation, the child-parent relation still involves a lack of full self-authority. This is not what Gregory shows himself to have in mind for human salvation. The relationship established between humanity and God is not meant to involve a disposition of subordination characteristic of one who is incompetent. Even though Gregory speaks in terms of ‘obedience’, what he envisions is apparently not to resemble submission to the external determination of a human child by a parent. In the greater context of the treatise, this elevation of human beings to friendship with God, definitively excluding a slavish lowliness, appears to derive from the relationship of the Son himself with the Father, into which humanity is incorporated. Referring to Jesus’ prayer for unity in John 17, Gregory comments, ‘Since the one who has united us to himself is in the Father, he has effected our union with the Father’.43 Given this union, the love that the Father has for the Son is that which the Father has for humanity, the Son’s body: ‘For if the Father loves the Son, and if all of us who have become his body through faith in him are in the Son, it follows that the one who loves his own Son also loves his Son’s body as he loves the Son himself; and we are the body’.44 Thus, we can see why lowliness is excluded. Because we become one with the Son, we are brought into the relationship that he shares with the Father. The manner in which what is true of Christ becomes true of human beings agrees with the general dynamics of the first-fruits and the mass of dough – the theme that this short treatise is well-known for showcasing. In union with the whole lump, what holds of Christ, the first-fruits, unfolds sequentially in the whole mass. In the closing passage of the treatise, where Gregory rejects slavish lowliness of the salvific subjection of human beings, this rejection is embedded within a broader description of likeness to the Only-Begotten. Gregory begins the treatise by rejecting ‘slavish humility’ of the Only-Begotten, and affirming 42 43 44

Gregory of Nyssa, In illud: Tunc et ipse filius, GNO III/2, 8.24-6. Ibid. GNO III/2, 21.19-21. Ibid. GNO III/2, 23.11-4.

K.H. ANDERSON

60

instead a number of divine attributes, such as his incorruptibility (τὸ ἄφθαρτον), happiness (τὸ μακάριον),45 and shortly after, his everlasting reign (ἐν τῇ δυναστεῖᾳ αὐτοῦ τοῦ αἰῶνος).46 At the end of the treatise, Gregory similarly rejects a slave’s lowliness of the subjection of human beings, and likewise affirms instead ‘rule (βασιλεία), incorruptibility (ἀφθαρσία), and happiness (μακαριότης)’.47 This parallel can hardly have been accidental. It reflects this vital connection established between the Son and humanity. What is true of Christ has become true of human beings in their final salvific subjection. Although human salvific subjection, in Gregory’s interpretation, is not modeled after Christ’s subjection, from our analysis we can conclude that what our subjection itself consists in is modeled on Christ. What is true of Christ becomes true of us as his life plays out in us. For Gregory, this process is what salvific subjection refers to. The parallel between the two rejections of ‘slavish lowliness’ makes more sense in this light: the posture of slavish lowliness is rejected in the case of human beings for the same reason it is rejected in the case of Christ. Thus, even though the subjection of the Son is accomplished through the subjection of human beings, that is not simply to say that the posture of slavish lowliness has been transferred from the Only-Begotten, for whom it would be unfitting, to human beings, for whom it would be fitting and salvific. On the contrary, slavish lowliness is similarly unfitting for human beings. Thus, even though human subjection is not modeled on the subjection of Christ, it is modeled on what is true of Christ himself. As such, δουλικὴ ταπεινότης, even as a disposition, is fundamentally incompatible with it.

45 46 47

Ibid. GNO III/2, 7.4-14. Ibid. GNO III/2, 9.3-4. Ibid. GNO III/2, 28.7-11.

Like a Drop of Water: Mingling Christology and Mystagogy in Gregory of Nyssa, Chalcedon and the Roman Rite Aaron RICHES, Benedictine College, Atchison, KS, USA

ABSTRACT This article reads Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology of ‘mingling’ at the interface of Christology and mystagogy. Deconstructing some misconceptions of the dogmatic implication of Chalcedon and its genesis, the paper argues that Chalcedon does not undermine Gregory’s Christological language. Further, noting the convertibility of Gregory’s Christology with images, signs and language of commixtio native to the Roman Rite, the paper offers that mingling is a perennially orthodox way of articulating the union of divinity and humanity in Christ and indispensable, moreover, to a good understanding of the ultimate present experience of Christology, which is liturgical.

In his prodigious volume on Maximus the Confessor, Hans Urs von Balthasar suggests that the pivotal term of Chalcedonian Christology is the great ἀσυγχύτως (inconfuse) of the definition of faith of 451. With this adverb the council is said to have specified to posterity the integral and enduring difference of divinity and humanity within the singular unity of the Son’s divine filiation. The canonization of this word, Balthasar argues, is a real achievement since by it ‘the latent pantheism of the ancient Alexandrian Christology … [was] finally expelled’.1 For Balthasar, a key to the dogmatic outcome of Chalcedon was to set a limit against the precedent of likening the union of divinity and humanity in Christ to that of a mingling (μίξις / κρᾶσις). Balthasar writes: The newness of the Christian message of salvation looked for expression first in ecstatic categories, suggesting a ‘mixture’ between divinity and humanity: a union like that of two fluids blending with each other, or better – to use the image of Gregory of Nyssa – like a drop of vinegar being dissolved in the sea. Only when such language began to be exploited by heresy did the Church come to realize – as Theodore of Mopsuestia was first to realize – that κρᾶσις, mixture, was far from the most perfect and intimate kind of union.2

1

Hans Urs von Balthasar, Cosmic Liturgy: The Universe According to Maximus the Confessor, trans. Brian E. Daley, S.J. (San Francisco, 2003), 63. 2 Ibid.

Studia Patristica CXII, 61-75. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

A. RICHES

62

Accordingly, and propitiously, according to Balthasar, after 451 ‘the image of a reciprocal indwelling of two distinct poles of being replaced the image of mixture’ in Christology.3 The story Balthasar invokes repeats key assumptions of a metanarrative about the development of Christological doctrine that has begun to fray under the weight of recent scholarship, even if it is often still repeated.4 According to this story, Chalcedon is a (or even the) unique high point of Christological doctrine, a salutary balance between two competing but valid Christological concerns concerning the relation of divinity and humanity in Christ, one tending in the direction of their ontological unity, the other in the direction of their enduring and integral difference. Before the Council the mainline of Christological orthodoxy had been, according to this metanarrative, overly dominated by Alexandrian thought, growing from Origen, Athanasius and Cyril, which putatively tended to overemphasize the unity of Christ at the expense of the integrity of the difference of the human and divine ‘poles of being’ within that union. The so-called Antiochene ‘school’ of Diodore of Tarsus, Theodore of Mopsuestia and Nestorius, by contrast, are said to have better grasped the enduring distinction of humanity and divinity; they also categorially rejected all mingling language in Christology.5 According to this old metanarrative, at Chalcedon the concerns of the Antiochenes were constructively brought to bear as a correction to the one-sided tendency of the Alexandrians. Hence Chalcedon’s 3

Ibid. For the classical articulations of the narrative, see J.N.D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, Revised Edition (New York, [1954] 1978); and Aloys Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition, vol. 1, From the Apostolic Age to Chalcedon (451), trans. John Bowden (London, [1965] 1975); also cf. Karl Rahner, S.J., ‘Chalkedon - Ende oder Anfang?’, in A. Grillmeier and H. Bacht (eds), Das Konzil von Chalkedon. Geschichte und Gegenwart, vol. 3 (Würzburg, 1954), 3-49. For the deconstruction of the narrative, see Andrew Louth, ‘Why Did the Syrians Reject the Council of Chalcedon?’, in Richard Price and Mary Whitby (eds), Chalcedon in Context: Church Councils 400-700 (Liverpool, 2009), 107-16; Donald Fairbairn, Grace and Christology in the Early Church (Oxford, 2003), 3-11; John Behr, The Case Against Diodore and Theodore: Texts and their Contexts (Oxford, 2011), 3-129; Brian E. Daley, S.J., God Visible: Patristic Christology Reconsidered (Oxford, 2018), 1-27 and 266-80; Richard Price, ‘Truth, Omission, and Fiction in the Acts of Chalcedon’, in Richard Price and Mary Whitby (eds), Chalcedon in Context: Church Councils 400-700 (Liverpool, 2009), 92-106; and Aaron Riches, Ecce Homo: On the Divine Unity of Christ (Grand Rapids, 2016), 74-9 and 146-9. For three contemporary repetitions of the metanarrative, see Christoph Cardinal Schönborn, God Sent His Son: A Contemporary Christology, trans. Henry Taylor (San Francisco, 2004), 148-53, and 193-220; Norman Tanner, S.J., The Church in Council: Conciliar Movements, Religious Practice and the Papacy from Nicaea to Vatican II (London, 2011), 14-6; and Gerald O’Collins, S.J., Christology: A Biblical, Historical, and Systematic Study of Jesus (Oxford, 1995), 184-201. 5 See Diodor of Tarsus BD 20 (ed. Behr, 185), and BD 26 (ed. Behr, 189); Theodore of Mopsuestia, De Incarnatione 8, LT 6 (ed. Behr, 290), Adversus fraudes Apollinaristarum LT 33 (ed. Behr, 307), De Incarnatione [Syriac text] (ed. Behr, 441); and Nestorius, Sermo Τὰς παρά in Friedrich Loofs (ed.), Nestoriana: Die Fragmente des Nestorius (Halle, 1905), 273 and 339 respectively. 4

Like a Drop of Water

63

limit against mingling and the canonization of ἀσυγχύτως. There are however major problems with this narrative. Without going into details, we can note at least the fact that, pace the credit Balthasar gives to Theodore of Mopsuestia, it seems to have been, rather, from Cyril of Alexandria that the Council Fathers took up the famous alpha-privative adverb, ἀσυγχύτως.6 Indeed nothing in the acta suggests that Theodore’s theology made anything like a direct and decisive contribution to the Definitio fidei of Chalcedon.7 In the second place – and central to the topic at hand – is the threefold suggestion of Balthasar as regards the image of mingling in Christology: that it is inherently defective (as Theodore held); that Chalcedon ought to be understood as has having set a dogmatic limit against it in all cases; and that the language and image of mingling was, after Chalcedon, more or less eliminated from the orthodox current of Chalcedonian Christianity. I will suggest to each point evidence to the contrary. What is more, I hope hereby to cumulatively arrive at what might be referred to as the mystagogical soul of orthodox mingling Christology, which survives in the liturgy as a perennial and central image of the wonderous exchange, the admirabile commercium of divinity and humanity that happens in Christ and is shed abroad though him into history in the sacred liturgy. 1. The Drop of Vinegar: Mingling in the Nyssen In registering his caution against the image of mingling Balthasar invokes specifically its difficult use by Gregory of Nyssa,8 who on at least three occasions likened the unity of divinity and humanity in Christ to a drop of vinegar 6 The alpha-privative adverb ἀσυγχύτως in fact has various and not limited Christological usages before Chalcedon, so that in and of itself its use at Chalcedon does not introduce any real novum. What makes its usage more remarkable at Chalcedon is its use alongside three other alphaprivatives (ἀτρέπτως, ἀδιαιρέτως, ἀχωρίστως), and herein lies the evidence that it was most likely received from Cyril, since Cyril uses it alongside one of the other adverbs (ἀτρέπτως) and a similar third (ἀμεταβλήτως) to the same effect as the Definitio. He does this in his first letter to Succensus: ‘Ἐνοῦντες τοίνυν ἡμεῖς τῇ ἁγίᾳ σαρκὶ ψυχὴν ἐχούσῃ τὴν νοερὰν ἀπορρήτως τε καὶ ὑπὲρ νοῦν τὸν ἐκ θεοῦ πατρὸς λόγον ἀσυγχύτως ἀτρέπτως ἀμεταβλήτως, ἕνα υἱὸν καὶ Χριστὸν καὶ κύριον ὁμολογοῦμεν, τὸν αὐτὸν θεὸν καὶ ἄνθρωπον, οὐχ ἕτερον καὶ ἕτερον, ἀλλ’ ἕνα καὶ τὸν αὐτὸν τοῦτο κἀκεῖνο ὑπάρχοντα καὶ νοούμενον (Lionel R. Wickham [ed.], Cyril of Alexandria: Select Letters [Oxford, 1983], 74; PG 77, 232C-B). On this further, see John McGuckin, Saint Cyril of Alexandria and the Christological Controversy (Crestwood, 2004), 239. 7 See Richard Price and Michael Gaddis, ‘General Introduction’, in The Acts of the Council of Chalcedon, vol. 1 (Liverpool, 2005), 65-75. On the legitimacy of the acta as a historical record, see Richard Price, ‘Truth, Omission, and Fiction in the Acts of Chalcedon’, in Richard Price and Mary Whitby (eds), Chalcedon in Context: Church Councils 400-700 (Liverpool, 2009), 92-106, 105. 8 Cf. J.N.D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines ([1954] 1978), 298-300; A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition, vol. 1 ([1965] 1975), 283-4; as well as Joseph Tixeront, Histoire des dogmes dans l’antiquité chrétienne. II: De Saint Athanase à Saint Augustin (318-430) (Paris, 1931), 128-9.

64

A. RICHES

dissolved into the sea.9 A number of important articles written over the last decade and a half have sought not only to assuage the retrospective anxiety of crypto-monophysitism here, but even more to show the positive richness of Gregory’s use of mingling in Christology.10 Brian Daley has argued that the key to a good understanding of what Gregory is up to involves grasping how ‘Gregory’s … main interest is not to identify precisely what is one and what is manifold in Christ, but to explore the conditions of possibility for our sharing in his triumph over death and human corruption’.11 In other words, Gregory is interested in the nexus at which what is unrepeatable in the Incarnation – what is metaphysically exceptional – becomes now the ground of a repeatable newness that cannot be reduced to the historical past-tense. It is in this context that Gregory’s mingling language must be understood, not as an endeavor at an ontological definition of Christ, but as an attempt to describe the expansive dynamic of the Christological exchange. In Ad Theophilus, the first text in which Gregory uses the image, he conceives the Incarnation as a divine communication that purposes to heal human flesh by a procedure of purification through the mingling of the weakness of human with the glory of divine finality and power.12 Christ – who remains 9 Ad Theophilum (GNO III/1, 119-28, at 126.19-21); Contra Eunomium III.3 (GNO II/2, 107-33, at 131-3); Antirrheticus (GNO III/1, 130-233, at 201). 10 I have benefited especially from four texts: Brian E. Daley, ‘Divine Transcendence and Human Transformation: Gregory of Nyssa’s anti-Apollinarian Christology’, Modern Theology 18 (2002), 497-506; Sarah Coakley, ‘“Mingling” in Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology: A Reconsideration’, in Andreas Schuele and Günter Thomas (eds), Who is Jesus Christ for us Today? Pathways to Contemporary Christology (Louisville, 2009), 72-84; Philip McCosker, ‘Parsing Paradox, Analysing “And”. Christological Configurations of Theological Paradox in some Mystical Theologies’ (PhD Thesis: Cambridge University, 2008), 41-103; and Miguel Brugarolas, ‘Theological Remarks on Gregory of Nyssa’s Christological Language of “Mixture”’, SP 84 (2017), 39-58. In addition to these, see Morwenna Ludlow, Gregory of Nyssa, Ancient and (Post)modern (Oxford, 2007), 97-107; John Behr, The Nicene Faith, vol. 2 of The Formation of Christian Theology (Crestwood, 2004), 409-74; Brian E. Daley, ‘“Heavenly Man” and “Eternal Christ”: Apollinarius and Gregory of Nyssa on the Personal Identity of the Savior’, Journal of Early Christian Studies 10 (2002), 469-88; Jean-René Bouchet, ‘Le vocabulaire de l’union et du rapport des natures chez Grégoire de Nysse’, Revue Thomiste 68 (1968), 533-82, and ‘À propos d’une image christologique de Grégoire de Nysse’, Revue Thomiste 67 (1967), 584-8; Lucas F. MateoSeco, ‘Notas sobre el lenguaje cristológico de Gregorio de Nisa’, Scripta Theologica 35 (2003), 89-112; Radde-Gallwitz, ‘Contra Eunomium III 3’, in Johan Leemans and Matthieu Cassin (eds), Gregory of Nyssa: Contra Eunomium III. An English Translation with Commentary and Supporting Studies. Proceedings of the 12th International Colloquium on Gregory of Nyssa (Leuven, 14-17 September 2010) (Leiden, 2014), 293-312; and Johannes Zachhuber, ‘Gregory of Nyssa: Contra Eunomium III 4’, in ibid., 313-34. 11 B. Daley, ‘Divine Transcendence and Human Transformation’ (2002), 502. 12 Gregory of Nyssa, Ad Theophilum (GNO III/1, 126.17-21): ἡ δὲ προσληφθεῖσα τῆς ἀνθρωπίνης φύσεωςἀπαρχή, ὑπὸ τῆς παντοδυνάμου θεότητος (ὡς ἂν εἴποι τις εἰκόνι χρώμενος) οἷόν τις σταγὼν ὄξους ἀπείρῳ πελάγεικατακραθεῖσα, ἔστι μὲν ἐν τῇ θεότητι, οὐ μὴν ἐν τοῖς ἰδίοις αὐτῆς ἰδιώμασιν.

Like a Drop of Water

65

‘imperishable and unchanging’ (ἄφθαρτον καὶ ἀΐδιον)13 – is here presented as having taken on the infirmity of flesh in order to make it his own, which is to say, he takes it on in order to submit it to a process of distillation that culminates in an ontological transparency of human finitude to the ultimacy of divinity itself.14 At this point, everything that is ‘weak and perishable’ in human flesh is mingled with divinity so much so that the divine and human names of Christ can be exchanged: humanity can be called ‘divine’ and divinity can be called ‘human’.15 The differentiating properties of each in Christ, thus, are fused so much so that ‘no difference divides [them] … numerically’.16 Gregory’s scheme is paradoxical in the extreme since the point at which the human and divine properties become indistinguishable is the point at which they appear to be maximally distinct.17 The broken and crucified flesh of the dead Jew would seem to share no significant attribute of divinity – and yet this is the moment at which they have become numerically ‘one’.18 This realization 13

Gregory of Nyssa, Ad Theophilum (GNO III/1, 127.4). Gregory of Nyssa, Ad Theophilum (GNO III/1, 127.4-7): ἐπειδὴ δὲ πάντωντῶν τῷ θνητῷ συνεπιθεωρουμένων ἐν τοῖς τῆς θεότητος ἰδιώμασι μεταποιηθέντων, ἐν οὐδενὶ καταλαμβάνεται ἡδιαφορά. 15 Gregory of Nyssa, Ad Theophilum (GNO III/1, 127.15-9): καὶ διὰ τὴν ἀκριβῆ ἑνότητα τῆς τε προσληφθείσης σαρκὸς καὶ τῆς προσλαβομένης θεότητος ἀντιμεθίσταται τὰ ὀνόματα, ὥστε καὶ τὸ ἀνθρώπινον τῷ θείῳ καὶ τὸ θεῖον τῷ ἀνθρωπίνῳ ἐπονομάζεσθαι. 16 Gregory of Nyssa, Ad Theophilum (GNO III/1, 127.9-10): πῶς ἂν διαιροῖτο τὸ ἓν εἰςδυϊκὴν σημασίαν, μηδεμιᾶς διαφορᾶς τὸν ἀριθμὸν μεριζούσης. 17 See J. Behr, The Case Against Diodore and Theodore (2011), 12-9 and The Nicene Faith (2004), 442-3 and 12-9. The operative text here is Contra Eunomium III.3 (GNO II, 130.5-19). 18 One could perhaps raise an objection to this formulation – of positing the cross as the locus of fusion of the attributes of divinity and humanity – pointing to the ‘first fruits’ of resurrection (cf. 1Cor. 15:20), which Gregory cites, suggesting that it is here, in rising from the dead, that the drop of humanity is dissolved into the sea of divinity to become numerically ‘one’ with divinity and not on the cross. But this would be to juxtapose the cross and resurrection and miss their internality, the manner by which the resurrection is God’s declaration of what has truly – bewilderingly – occurred on the cross. The first evidence from Gregory for this comes from Contra Eunomium III.3 (GNO II, 130.8-9): Jesus is exalted from his Passion (ἐκ τοῦ πάθους), which is to say from the Cross, and thereby he is made Lord and Christ (ὑπερυψωθέντα τοῦτον κύριόν τε καὶ Χριστὸν γεγενῆσθαι), which is to say he is resurrected. The meaning of the cross can only be seen through the resurrection (which is why the apostles can only proclaim Christ after the encounter with the Resurrected Lord), while the resurrection clarifies the consummatum est (Jn. 19:30) that the cross uniquely is. Or as Gregory goes on in the same text of Contra Eunomium (GNO II, 130.10-5): the flesh itself is what reason and sense apprehend – what is crucifiable can be seen – but it can only be seen for what it is only when it is mingled (ἀνακραθεῖσα) with the divine; through which it becomes no longer limited by its own limitation but is taken up by what conquers and is transcendent. The flesh of the cross, then, is divinity made visible, while the resurrection makes what is seen on the cross intelligible. But perhaps more fundamental to respond to this objection is to note the function of Gregory’s use in these same texts of the Pauline hymn of kenosis, in which the exaltation, the declaration of the name that is above every name, is explicitly configured by the apostle as the ratification of what is achieved in the dissolution of kenotic descent. Drawing out the logic of the Pauline text in Antirrheticus (GNO III/1, 161. 16-26), Gregory performs what Brugarolas terms ‘communicatio nominum’ (‘Theological Remarks 14

66

A. RICHES

is so astounding to human reason that it crosses out every predetermined idea of what divinity is and can do, on the one hand, while recapitulating on the other, what it means to be human and what the path of human flourishing must look like.19 The Cross is thus at once a new starting point of contemplation of God and the inauguration of a new method of human flourishing and fulfilment. Divinity has become transparent to our eyes by means of a gradual modification of human being, which has brought the totality of this human life to a point of unimaginable ultimacy-in-death, which now becomes the source of true human perfection and life. This means that the union of divinity and humanity in Christ is not a static datum to which the culmination of Jesus’s mission on the Cross can be construed as extrinsic, as something that merely befalls his ontology. Rather the union in Christ must – even in him – be a pathway into the transformative finality of divine union. This is the key to Jesus’s determinaon Gregory of Nyssa’s Christological Language of “Mixture”’ [2017], 54) arguing that the particular human name given to Christ (‘Jesus’) cannot be said of his human nature in abstraction, but only of the duality of divine and human become in him ‘one’ through mingling (διὰ τῆς ἀνακράσεως). Gregory says it is for this reason that God receives his name from his humanity (τούτου χάριν καὶ ὁ θεὸς ἐκ τοῦ ἀνθρωπίνου κατονομάζεται). This works on account of the fusing into ‘one’ of divinity and humanity in Christ. Drawing on the passage from Philippians Gregory argues that this occurs because the ‘distinctive feature of the deity which cannot be expressed by means of a particular designation’ has become distinctive in the humanity of Christ, while the distinctiveness of Christ belongs now wholly to the divinity according to Brugarolas’s logic of communicatio nominum. The inner sense of both the Nyssen’s text and the Pauline text he relies on is that of the wonderous: what is highest has become lowest so that lowliness may be raised to the loftiness of divine ultimacy: divinity is humanly named (Jesus) while the name of Jesus is divinely exalted from the lowliness of kenosis. But if it had to be specified, following the Apostle Paul, we would have to say that the point of fusion is the point of deepest kenosis. Christ is the form of God (μορφῇ Θεοῦ, Phil. 2:6) while the incarnation is his becoming emptied of himself to the point of taking to himself the form of a slave (ἑαυτὸν ἐκένωσεν μορφὴν δούλου λαβών, Phil. 2:7). Having assumed this form of lowliness he carries it yet further down, down to the obedience of death, and not merely death, but death on the Cross (ἑαυτὸν γενόμενος ὑπήκοος μέχρι θανάτου θανάτου δὲ σταυροῦ, Phil. 2:8). The manner according to which the Cross can only be understood as a death deeper than death, mors turpissima crucis, cannot be overstated (see Gérard Rossé, Maldito el que cuelga de un madero: El escándelo de la cruz en Pablo y e Marcos [Madrid, 2017], especially 5-13). For Paul the exaltation occurs because of this, because Jesus has gone down this far: down to the heart of finitude, down into the root of sin, down the profundity of human deprivation. And: ‘Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name’ (Phil. 2:9). The achievement of Jesus is here wholly configured as occurring in mors turpissima crucis, the divine exaltation occurs ‘therefore’. The moment Jesus submits human flesh ultimately to the divine will is the consumatum est, the last word of the Incarnate Logos is the silence of his dying. This is then is point at which the drop of vinegar dissolves into the sea. In this light, finally, we see that the Pauline key to the Nyssen’s image clarifies the function of κράσις as basically convertible with the apostle’s use of the word κένωσις. 19 This point is well made in this volume by Giulio Maspero, in his ‘Re-thinking Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology in the light of its use (chrêsis) in the Second Council of Constantinople’ (p. 159-78), which emphasizes the ontological maior dissimilitudo that must prevail between the Trinity and the world of beings.

Like a Drop of Water

67

tion to go to Jerusalem, where he will be killed and raised on the third day (cf. Matt. 16:21; Lk. 24:26). In this way we begin to see that the drama of the Paschal Mystery is internal to – even the heart of – the metaphysics of the Incarnation. The finis of the union defines its wholeness. As Gregory puts it: death is not a consequence of Jesus’s being born, rather he is born in order to die.20 For us who are dying, this is salvation from within our deepest existential need. His incarnation is thus a coming into the very depth of our flesh, the infirmity of our being. Another way of saying this is to say that the drop of vinegar is dissolved – not at any point above our sickness or outside the most brutal fact of our fragility – but at the deepest point of its lowliness, the point of complete deprivation. For Gregory the Christological union is thus an event, a transformation that is vibrant, surprising and narrative in shape. The vitality of this event occurs, for Gregory, wholly on the side of humanity, the side that is weak and dying. Indeed the whole newness of the incarnation occurs because what is sick and weak has come into real contract with what is ‘great and imperishable and eternal’, what has the ontological power to heal and save.21 For this reason the image of the drop of humanity dissolved in the ocean of divinity is advantageous, since it can at once signify the infinite transcendence of God (who is as infinite as the ocean compared to a drop of vinegar), while at the same time signifying divinity’s most radical presence to humanity through the Son’s economy (he has drawn the whole human fact into himself as the sea swallows up the drop that mixes with it).22 Here the interface of what we call the dogma of the ‘hypostatic union’ and the concrete experience of mystical union blend. The intimacy of the union of humanity with the ‘great and imperishable and eternal’ in Jesus is the condition of the possibility of our theosis, which is to say, the event of the modification of human being that occurs though his life unleashes into history a divinizing possibility heretofore unimaginable. This is the level on which Christology and soteriology are united in Gregory: on the Cross our death is swallowed up by his life, our weakness is restored to life by his power, the curse is transformed into blessing, everything frail and fatal in our nature is mingled with his divinity so as to become truly what the divinity is.23 By 20 Gregory of Nyssa, Oratio catechetica 32 (SC 453, 284): Τάχα δ’ ἄν τις δι’ ἀκριβείας καταμαθὼν τὸ μυστήριον εὐλογώτερον εἴποι μὴ διὰ τὴν γένεσιν συμβεβηκέναι τὸν θάνατον, ἀλλὰ τὸ ἔμπαλιν τοῦ θάνατου χάριν παραληφθῆναι τὴν γένεσιν. 21 Cf. Antirrheticus (GNO III/1, 223.2-7): ἀλλ’ ἐπειδὴ τρεπτὸν μὲν τὸ ἀνθρώπινον, ἄτρεπτον δὲ τὸ θεῖον, ἡ μὲν θεότης πρὸς τροπήν ἐστιν ἀκίνη τος, οὔτε πρὸς τὸ κρεῖττον ἀλλοιουμένη οὔτε πρὸς τὸ χεῖρον … ἡ δὲ ἀνθρωπίνη φύσις ἐν Χριστῷ πρὸς τὸ κρεῖττον κέχρηται τῇ τροπῇ. 22 M. Brugarolas, ‘Theological Remarks on Gregory of Nyssa’s Christological Language of “Mixture’” (2017), 40. 23 Gregory of Nyssa, Ad Theophilum (GNO III/3, 126.7-11): ἀλλὰ τὸ μὲν θνητὸν ὑπὸ τῆς ζωῆς κατεπόθη, ὁ δὲ σταυρωθεὶς ἐξ ἀσθενείας ἔζησεν ἐκ δυνάμεως ἥ τε κατάρα εἰςεὐλογίαν

68

A. RICHES

descending into the depths of our dying and mingling thereby his divinity with our humanity, Christ has augmented our nature at the very point of its brutal fragility, making what is most feeble and perishable in us the site of the most intimate divine indwelling. This is how the Passion for Gregory transforms human nature: the mortal element that came to be in the immortality of Jesus has, on the Cross, become immortality itself: the corruptible is transfigured into incorruption.24 This means that the Incarnation is not best thought of as another sequence in the pre-existing life of the eternal Son, but as the transformative becoming that entails that the total human element (all the way down and in all of its factors) has indeed become divine.25 To see this is to see the profound internal intimacy of the Cross and Resurrection: the resurrection is, so to say, the verification that indeed the crucified flesh has become transparent to the divine life: ‘The first-fruits of human nature, which he assumed, have been mingled with the omnipotent divinity like … a drop of vinegar [would be swallowed up] in the boundless sea’.26 In the gravid image of the first fruits swallowed up (mingled) in the divine, two texts from 1Corinthians 15 are operative. In the first place verse 54: when the perishable puts on the imperishable, the mortal immortality, then ‘Death is swallowed up (κατεπόθη) in victory’ – which is to say Death has become for us Life. Secondly, verse 20: ‘Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep’ – which is to say that what has happened in Christ is not a mere metaphysical exception, it has become a present fact that μετεποιήθη καὶ πᾶν͵ ὅσον ἀσθενὲς τῆς φύσεως ἡμῶν καὶ ἐπίκηρον ἀνακραθὲν τῇ θεότητι ἐκεῖνο ἐγένετο͵ὅπερ ἡ θεότης ἐστίν. 24 Gregory of Nyssa, Ad Theophilum (GNO III/1, 125.6-10): εἰ δὲ τὸ θνητὸν ἐν τῷ θανάτῳ γενόμενον θανασία ἐγένετο, ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ τὸ φθαρτὸν εἰς φθαρσίαν μετέβαλε καὶ τὰ ἄλλα πάντα ὡσαύτως πρὸς τὸ παθές τε καὶ θεῖον μετεποιήθη, τίς ὑπολείπεται λόγος ἔτι τοῖς εἰς δυϊκὴν διαφορὰν τὸ ἓν διασχίζουσιν. Cf. Gregory of Nyssa, Antirrheticus (GNO III/1, 222-3): ἀλλὰ πάντοτε μὲν ὁ Χριστὸς καὶ πρὸ τῆς οἰκονομίας καὶ μετὰ τοῦτο· ἄνθρωπος δὲ οὔτε πρὸ τούτου οὔτε μετὰ ταῦτα, ἀλλ’ ἐν μόνῳ τῷ τῆς οἰκονομίας καιρῷ. οὔτε γὰρ πρὸ τῆς παρθένου ὁ ἄνθρωπος οὔτε μετὰ τὴν εἰς οὐρανοὺς ἄνοδον ἔτι ἡ σὰρξ ἐν τοῖς ἑαυτῆς ἰδιώμασιν. Εἰ γὰρ καὶ ἐγνώκαμέν ποτε, φησί, κατὰ σάρκα Χριστόν, ἀλλὰ νῦν οὐκ ἔτι γινώσκομεν· οὐδὲ γὰρ ἐπειδὴ ὁ θεὸς ἐν σαρκὶ ἐφανερώθη, σὰρξ διέμεινεν· ἀλλ’ ἐπειδὴ τρεπτὸν μὲν τὸ ἀνθρώπινον, ἄτρεπτον δὲ τὸ θεῖον, ἡ μὲν θεότης πρὸς τροπήν ἐστιν ἀκίνητος, οὔτε πρὸς τὸ κρεῖττον ἀλλοιουμένη οὔτε πρὸς τὸ χεῖρον (τὸ μὲν γὰρ χεῖρον οὐ παραδέχεται, τὸ δὲ κρεῖττον οὐκ ἔχει)· ἡ δὲ ἀνθρωπίνη φύσις ἐν Χριστῷ πρὸς τὸ κρεῖττον κέχρηται τῇ τροπῇ, ἀπὸ τοῦ φθαρτοῦ πρὸς τὸ ἄφθαρτον ἀλλοιωθεῖσα, ἀπὸ τοῦ ἐπικήρου πρὸς τὸ ἀκήρατον, ἀπὸ τοῦ ὀλιγοχρονίου πρὸς τὸ ἀΐδιον, ἀπὸ τοῦ σωματικοῦ καὶ κατεσχηματισμένου πρὸς τὸ ἀσώματόν τε καὶ ἀσχημάτιστον. 25 Crucially, see J. Behr, The Case Against Diodore and Theodore (2011), 17. 26 Gregory of Nyssa, Ad Theophilum (GNO III/1, 126.17-21): ἡ δὲ προσληφθεῖσα τῆς νθρωπίνης φύσεως παρχή, ὑπὸ τῆς παντοδυνάμου θεότητος (ὡς ἂν εἴποι τις εἰκόνι χρώμενος) οἷόν τις σταγὼν ὄξους πείρῳ πελάγει κατακραθεῖσα, ἔστι μὲν ἐν τῇ θεότητι͵ οὐ μὴν ἐν τοῖς ἰδίοις αὐτῆς ἰδιώμασιν.

Like a Drop of Water

69

is happening now. These texts suggest that the essential content of what is being discussed has little to do with theoretical abstraction and everything to do with the answer God has given by giving himself to the most overwhelming need of the human being. The point at which the drop fuses with the sea of divinity is therefore necessarily the point of our nature’s existential defeat, the catastrophe of sin and death. The Resurrection of Jesus, on the other hand, is truly the ‘first fruits’ of a new and transfigured human experience come to life in the sea of divine glory. 2. Chalcedon: Mingling Without Confusion The dogmatic limit of 451 according to which the unity of Christ must be ‘acknowledged in two natures without confusion (ἀσυγχύτως)’27 is usually taken (as it is by Balthasar) as if setting a crippling limit against the language of mingling tout court. But on closer inspection it is not clear that this must necessarily be the case. In the first place, the alpha-privative adverb does not here qualify the union of the two natures itself, but the epistemological perception of their union.28 In the second place – and crucially – it is confusion and not mingling that the Council Fathers here prohibit, and these are not synonymous. Nevertheless, earlier in the Definitio, in the anathemata following the double recitation of the Creed of 325 and 381, the Council Fathers do rule against ‘those who … introduce confusion (σύγχυσιν) and mingling (κρᾶσις), foolishly imagining that there is one nature of the flesh and divinity’.29 Here confusion and mingling are correlated, but not in a way that compels us to overdraw their dogmatic equivalence, especially since the anathematization of ‘κρᾶσις’ here (and in the full context of Chalcedon moreover) is determined by the anathematization of ‘σύγχυσις’, and not otherwise. This being the case, mingling is not simply or generically excluded, but is excluded insofar as it signifies something convertible with confusion and therefore hospitable to the doctrine under formal exclusion – viz. the Eutychian union that construes Christ as a tertium quid (as ‘one nature of the flesh and divinity’). The truth is that ‘mingling’ (κρᾶσις) has a range of signification far more plurivocal and ample than ‘confusion’ (σύγχυσιν) and does not always signify the making of a tertium quid. Confusion may be a kind of mingling, but it is not the only kind.30 27

Definitio fidei (DS 302). Ph. McCosker, ‘Parsing Paradox’ (2008), 46, n. 13. My debt here to McCoster’s thesis is obvious. 29 Definitio fidei (DS 300). 30 An important sign that the Council Fathers held this view, that their dogmatic limit did not univocally exclude every instance of κρᾶσις / μίξις, lies in the fact of the reverence with which they invoke the name of Gregory of Nazianzus, whom they gave the title ‘the Theologian’ (a title he henceforth shares only with John the Evangelist). That the Nazianzen prominently uses mingling 28

70

A. RICHES

Gregory’s image of the drop dissolved into measureless water has at least two classic and divergent antecedent uses: one Stoic, the other Aristotelian.31 In Aristotle the image is that of a drop of wine dissolved into the sea, which he uses to exhibit what has been called a ‘union of predominance’.32 This union for him is not a true mingling since in a ‘union of predominance’ the dominant element abolishes the weaker.33 It is obvious that Gregory is gesturing to this Aristotelian union, but in a complex and destabilizing way. In Gregory’s use, the weaker element is not simply abolished (the ‘first fruits’ are not the annihilation of humanity)34 and yet at the same time Gregory’s mingling is a variant on this ‘union of predominance’ in the sense that one element (divinity), if it does not abolish the other element, it does exercise an active and unilateral ultimacy over and within the weaker element of humanity. But this unilateral construal of mingling does not line up with Aristotle at all. For Aristotle a true mingling is not any kind of ‘union of predominance’ but rather a bilateral blending of elements that do indeed generate a tertium quid, in which the original elements are fused, and endure only now in potency.35 This of course, in Christological terms, is precisely what Chalcedon excludes, but it is clearly not what Gregory has in mind. For Gregory, the mingling of humanity and divinity in Christ means that the range of human experience is no longer limited to the qualities of mere humanity, but are now taken up into what transcended the human, while yet the human and divine remain unconfused (ἀσύγχυτος).36 The Stoics by contrast insisted that in a true mingling both elements do indeed endure and do so actively. The Stoic Chrysippus seemingly argued against Aristotle that even a drop of wine dissolved into the sea language (κρᾶσις / μίξις) to construe the union in Christ was of course well known, and so problematizes any sense that the Council Father should be considered as retroactively or proactively excluding every instance of the language or image of mingling in Christology in a univocal sense. 31 Cf. M. Ludlow, Gregory of Nyssa (2007), 98-100; and M. Brugarolas, ‘Theological Remarks on Gregory of Nyssa’s Christological Language of “Mixture”’ (2017), 44-5. 32 Cf. Henry A. Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Church Fathers, I: Faith, Trinity, Incarnation (Cambridge, 1970), 386. 33 Aristotle, De generatione et corruptione, 1.10 (328a, 26-31): οἷον σταλαγμὸς οἴνου μυρίοις χοεῦσιν ὕδατος οὐ μίγνυται· λύεται γὰρ τὸ εἶδος καὶ μεταβάλλει εἰς τὸ πᾶν ὕδωρ. Ὅταν δὲ ταῖς δυνάμεσιν ἰσάζῃ πως, τότε μεταβάλλει μὲν ἑκάτερον εἰς τὸ κρατοῦν ἐκ τῆς αὑτοῦ φύσεως, οὐ γίνεται δὲ θάτερον, ἀλλὰ μεταξὺ καὶ κοινόν. 34 For the view that understands Gregory taking up Aristotle’s ‘union of predominance’ in a univocal way (and so to heterodox effect), see H.A. Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Church Fathers, I (1970), 396-9. 35 Aristotle, De generatione et corruptione, 1.10 (328b, 18-25): ταῦτα γὰρ οὔτ’ ἐφθάρθαι ἀνάγκη μεμιγμένα οὔτ’ ἔτι ταὐτὰ ἁπλῶς εἶναι, οὔτε σύνθεσιν εἶναι τὴν μίξιν αὐτῶν, οὔτε πρὸς τὴν αἴσθησιν· ἀλλ’ ἔστι μικτὸν μὲν ὃ ἂν εὐόριστον ὂν παθητικὸν ᾖ καὶ ποιητικὸν καὶ τοιούτῳ μικτόν (πρὸς ὁμώνυμον γὰρ τὸ μικτόν), ἡ δὲ μίξις τῶν μικτῶν ἀλλοιωθέντων ἕνωσις. 36 Contra Eunomium III.3 (GNO II, 130.11-8). See in the present volume the commentary on this text by Giulio Maspero, who notes how Gregory here anticipates both Chalcedon and Constantinople II.

Like a Drop of Water

71

did in fact continue to exist, if undetectably and thinly spread.37 On the face of it this kind of mingling might satisfy the dogmatic limit of Chalcedon (ἀσύγχυτος), but the heart of the union of divinity and humanity in Christ concerns something much more radical: not how humanity simply continues to exist in its own ‘distinct pole of being’ (as Balthasar puts it), but how it is positively transfigured and transformed by its union with divine ultimacy. In this regard what has been described as Gregory’s ‘artful and deliberate’38 alteration of the Aristotelian example of wine and water is a crucial clue to Gregory’s meaning. Supposing Gregory has relied on Aristotle’s image, he has noticeably modified it: changing the image of the drop of wine to that of vinegar, he introduces another layer of resonance. One of the Stoic types of ‘mixture’ discussed by Stobaeus is one in which vinegar features prominently; it happens also to be a well-known medical allusion. According to Hippocrates, the mingling of seawater and vinegar was said to have medicinal properties.39 This suggests that Gregory’s image has a further medicinal resonance: Jesus is the Surgeon who heals the sickness of human sin and death. Gregory’s image of the drop of vinegar should in light of the foregoing be conceived – not as aligning with any of the above (and incommensurate) images – but as a tensive summoning of all of them as part what has been called a theological ‘policy of mutually bombarding (and thus mutually correcting) metaphorical allusions’.40 This tactic allows Gregory to stress the exceptional newness of the mystery of mingling accomplished in Christ, and shed abroad though him into history. Gregory raises the tension of interplay of these counterpoising images moreover by setting his whole use of the drop dissolved into the sea under the dominant sign of the Pauline doctrine of the ‘first fruits’. Under the weight of the Pauline doctrine the whole issue of Christological mingling is construed as something that cannot be relegated to the historical past-tense but is rather a mingling that is happening now and to universal effect. The Paschal Mystery is the nexus where Christology and soteriology, Incarnation and deification themselves intertwine. Herein lies what has been called the ‘the deep meaning’ of Gregory’s image: it is ‘not only an image of the relation between the human and the divine in Christ, but also an explanation of the therapeutic character of the Incarnation for our human nature’.41 Gregory’s image of mingling implies both a union ‘without confusion’ and a union of radical transformation, of humanity caught up, transfigured and made new by divine intimacy. 37

M. Ludlow, Gregory of Nyssa (2007), 99. S. Coakley, ‘“Mingling” in Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology’ (2009), 77. 39 Ibid. 40 Ibid. 79. 41 M. Brugarolas, ‘Theological Remarks on Gregory of Nyssa’s Christological Language of “Mixture”’ (2017), 45. Cf. J.-R. Bouchet, ‘À propos d’une image christologique de Grégoire de Nysse’ (1967), 587. 38

72

A. RICHES

3. The Drop of Water: Mingling in the Roman Rite At the beginning of the 13th century the inquisitor and later cardinal Jacques de Vitry, French bishop of Akko (in present day Israel), wrote from Egypt during the fifth crusade lamenting the monophysitism of the Jacobite Christians. He wrote: they ‘say there is one nature in Christ and one will just as there is one person’ because they hold that ‘the human nature is absorbed … by the divine, like a drop of water, which … falling in wine, is absorbed by it’.42 De Vitry’s image of monophysite heresy gives a new twist to the image in our context. This time it is not a drop of liquid dissolved into water (a drop of wine as in Aristotle or vinegar as in the Stoics and Gregory): it is now a drop of water dissolved into wine. But de Vitry’s image is curious and ironic as a verification of heresy since it is exactly the image of mingling he himself daily deployed to elucidate the union of Christ as he celebrated the Sacrifice of the Mass according to the Roman Rite – a form he could only have understood as impeccably orthodox. In the traditional offertory of the Roman Rite, after the priest has prayed the ‘prayer of oblation’, having made the sign of the Cross with the paten and having placed the host on the corporal, he lets fall a few drops of water into the chalice he will presently consecrate. As the drops of water fall and dissolve into the wine the priest prays: Deus, qui humanae substantiae dignitatem mirabilier condidisti, et mirabilius reformasti: da nobis per huius aquae et vini mysterium, eius divinitatis esse consortes, qui humanitatis nostræ fiieri dignatus est particeps, Iesus Christus Fiilius tuus Dominus noster: Qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitate Spiritus Sancti, Deus, per omnia saecula saeculorum. God, who in creating human nature did wonderfully dignify it and did still more wonderfully restored it; grant that by the mystery of this water and wine we may become partakers of His divinity, who was pleased to become a partaker of our humanity, Jesus Christ your Son our Lord.

Joseph Jungmann refers to this prayer as the ‘comingling formula’,43 and identifies its origin with the most ancient of Latin Roman Christian orations.44 It appears for the first time in the Verona proto-sacramentary as a collect for Christmas and most likely antedates the Christological controversies of the fourth and fifth centuries. Though the prayer itself certainly does not go back to the time of Justin Martyr, it accompanies and interprets the gesture of the 42 Jacques de Vitry, Ep 2, ll. 483-9, in R.B.C. Huygens (ed.), Serta Mediaevalia: Textus Varii Saeculorum X-XIII, CChr.CM 171 (Turnhout, 2000), 577; as quoted and translated in Philip McCosker, ‘Parsing Paradox’ (2008), 64. 43 Joseph Jungmann, S.J., The Mass of the Roman Rite: Its Origins and Development, 2 vol., trans. Francis Brunner (New York, 1951), II 63, n. 112. 44 Ibid. 63.

Like a Drop of Water

73

mingling water and wine Justin already recalls as ritually established in the second century Eucharistic liturgy, at the point of the ‘offertory’, immediately preceding the anaphora.45 Entering thus into the heart of the liturgy, the ‘comingling formula’ of the offertory proposes the unity of Christ under the sign of a drop of water mysteriously dissolving into wine.46 The Christological union is hereby determined in a manner convertible with Gregory. The weakness of the few drops of water signify the weakness of the human element in relation to the ultimacy and transformative power of the divine glory. But what is more, to recall how Christ was pleased to partake of our nature is to recall the form by which he partook of that nature: which involved plunging himself into the sickness of death and sin on the Cross. The Cross is very much in the foreground here, as the whole of the offertory is a preparation to the celebration of the sacrifice of the Mass, the liturgical entrance into the mystery of Calvary. In this way, as in Gregory, the image of the ‘comingling formula’ concerns not the unity of Christ in abstraction, but the concrete form it took and the goal of it taking that form, which redounds now to us in the sacred liturgy. But as a petition, the ‘comingling formula’ points well beyond the level of doctrine: it goes into the heart of mystagogy, pleading that the holy rite would become the occasion of our theosis (da nobis … eius divinitatis esse consortes). The scriptural source here being 2Peter 1:3-5, according to which God in Jesus has given us a share of his divine life in order that through knowledge of him we may ‘become partakers of the divine nature (divinae consortes naturae)’ (2Peter 1:5). This is the mirabilius reformasti, the still more wonderful way Christ has redeemed us: by continuing his presence and proximity in the liturgical action, he has established a means whereby we may be caught up into the inclusivity of his transformation of human flesh. The ‘comingling formula’ of the offertory does not, however, stand alone but anticipates a second liturgical rite of mingling in the Mass: the rite of ‘the comingling of the body and blood’, which follows the Canon and immediately precedes the Angus Dei. After the recitation of the Our Father, having fractured the host, the priest breaks off a particle from the left half. As he offers the Pax Domini he makes with the particle the sign of the Cross over the consecrated chalice before dropping the particle into the consecrated wine with the following words:

45 See Justin Martyr, ‘Apology on Behalf of Christian’, in Denis Minns and Paul Parvis, Justin, Philosopher and Martyr: Apologies (Oxford, 2009), 65.3: ποτήριον ὕδατι κεκραμένον. This is how Justin describes the water and wine, as a ‘cup of water and mixture’. According to Minns and Parvis (253, n. 7), the word κράμα itself literally means ‘wine mixed with water’. I am grateful to Fr. Daniel Cordeló for bringing this to my attention. 46 Dom Prosper Guéranger, The Holy Mass (London, 2012), 65-9.

A. RICHES

74

Haec commixtio, et consecratio Corporis et Sanguinis Domini nostri Iesu Christi, fiat accipientibus nobis in vitam aeternam. May this mingling and consecration of the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ be to us who receive it effectual unto eternal life.

The rite of comingling goes back at least as far as the papal Mass of the eighth century, which had a rite of comingling following the fraction with a prayer basically the same as what we have today.47 The particle, however, was not then taken from the celebrated Eucharist, but from a previous Eucharist so as to signify ‘the continuous unity of the eucharistic sacrifice … the same Mass yesterday and today’.48 The Roman liturgy had alongside this rite another comingling in which a particle from the Eucharist of the Bishop would be also mingled into the chalice. This particle was called the fermentum. The practice, according to Jungmann, answered to that awareness, so keen in the ancient Church, that the Eucharist was the sacramentum unitatis, that this Sacrament held the Church together, and that all the people of God subject to a bishop should, if it were possible, be gathered around the bishop’s altar and receive the Sacrament from his table of Sacrifice.49

The ritual mingling that follows the Canon springs from the new life initiated in the event of the ‘first fruits’ of the Jesus’s Resurrection. The Resurrection is therefore the context in which we ought to understand the post-Canon mingling and is the key according to which it corresponds to the Pax Domini, words spoken by the Resurrected Lord. This resurrectional context, moreover, clarifies the most perplexing aspect of the prayer of this second mingling, which concerns the word consecratio.50 How can the mingling of the consecrated elements be itself a ‘consecration’? Or is this a second ‘consecration’, and if it is what could it possibly mean? Jungmann, relying on the work of Johann Peter de Jong,51 shows that the issue of this second ‘consecration’ is clarified by its origin, received from the Syrian tradition, which had a special way of understanding the distinct faces of the Eucharistic liturgy as mapping sequentially onto the Paschal Mystery. For the Syrians of the fifth century the words of consecration themselves, pronounced the day before he suffered death (pridie quam pateretur), were linked to the death of the Lord and so to the separation of his body and blood on the Cross. The communion of the faithful, their reception of the ‘first fruits’, on the other 47

J. Jungmann, The Mass of the Roman Rite (1951), vol. 2, 532. Ibid. 312. 49 Ibid. 532. 50 The consecratio was in fact expunged from the prayer during Annibale Bugnini’s postVatican II reform of the liturgy. 51 Johann Peter de Jong, ‘Le rite de la commixtion avec les liturgies syriennes’, Archiv für Liturgiewissenshaft 4 (1956), 33-79. 48

Like a Drop of Water

75

hand was conceived in terms of the Resurrection, our encounter here and now with the Living Lord. And thus, the Eucharistic event presupposes not only the separation of the body and blood that occurs on the Cross, but also their re-union in the Resurrection. This was emphasized by the Syrian liturgy which enacted this re-union not only with the mingling of the particle in the chalice but also with a sprinkling of consecrated wine on the host – both gestures clarified this re-union of Easter. Holy communion thus is understood as a participation in the total gesture of the Paschal Mystery made possible by Christ’s rising from the dead. Eating the food of immortality and sharing in the remingled body and blood is thus the means of becoming engrafted into the tree of the ‘first fruits’ of Jesus’s new human life, human life made transparent to divine power. In this light we begin to see that the consecration of the elements in the Mass are indeed meant to motivate a kind of ‘second consecration’ insofar as the consecrated elements possess a transformative power meant to consecrate our own humanity. To receive the sacrament worthily is to come to bear with love the mingled Lord within. The mystery of becoming a partaker of the divine nature is in this way made actual in the mingling of our communion. Conclusion Brian Daley insists that the transformation in Christ that Gregory describes with his mingling language is meant to mark ‘the beginning of the transformation in which each of us is called to participate’.52 The burden of my short paper has been to repeat this and to underline how this theology of the wonderous exchange concerns precisely the point at which the reality of Christ becomes something that is happening to us now in the liturgy. I have tried to show that this is not excluded or contravened by the Chacedonian settlement; but neither is it sufficiently expressed by an image of union that would merely affirm the ‘indwelling of two distinct poles of being’. In the mystagogy what is needed is a language of indwelling that expresses the transfigurative and salvific power of Christ over the fragile and wounded fact of our finitude. The traditional language of Roman Rite and that of Gregory of Nyssa give voice to this experience, which is the nexus through which what is unrepeatable in the Incarnation has become – astonishingly – the ground of a repeatable newness: like a drop of water mingling in the wine of divinity.

52

B. Daley, ‘Divine Transcendence and Human Transformation’ (2002), 501.

From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology Miguel BRUGAROLAS, University of Navarra, Pamplona, Spain

ABSTRACT Gregory of Nazianzus and Gregory of Nyssa are situated in a complex historical and theological context in terms of the development of their Christology. On the one hand, the Arian crisis demanded a clear explanation of the Logos’ perfect transcendence and, therefore, a vindication of the possibility of its Incarnation inasmuch as he is true God. On the other hand, the emergence of Apollinarianism unveiled the urgency of considering all the consequences of the biblical teaching on the Incarnation of the Word and the authentic reality in every aspect of Christ’s humanity. In this context and in a time in which technical Christological language was not yet definitely configured, both Gregory of Nazianzus and Gregory of Nyssa describe the unity of the human and the divine in Christ using both paradox and ‘material’ categories, such as ‘mixture’ language. This article analyses some texts of the Cappadocian Fathers and it aims to show how their description of the relation between the human and the divine in Christ is grounded in an economic-salvific principle and points to an authentic pneumatological Christology. The Incarnation took place in such a manner that it is the only way through which human being can attain communion with God, an eschatological transformation described in apophatic terms.

Introduction Gregory of Nazianzus and Gregory of Nyssa are two distinguished figures of 4th-century Christology. The first is noteworthy especially for his Christological Letters to Cledonius, although his contribution to Christology is widespread among his writings. He was a key figure in the development of Christology for his open refutation of Apollinarism, as well as his refutation, albeit silent, of the ‘dualism’ of Diodore of Tarsus.1 The second is the one who, among the Cappadocian Fathers, dealt mostly extensively with the Christological question. For some critics, maybe influenced by the generalised shadow spread by the

1

See Christopher Beeley, ‘The Early Christological Controversy: Apollinarius, Diodore, and Gregory Nazianzen’, Vigiliae Christianae 65 (2011), 376-407; John Behr, The Case Against Diodore and Theodore. Text and their Contexts (Oxford, 2011), 86-8.

Studia Patristica CXII, 77-101. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

78

M. BRUGAROLAS

historians of Christology over this period,2 both of them developed a controversial Christology which could be understood both in a monophysite or a dualistic way. It is not the intention of this article to redefine their Christologies one by one, or uphold one in comparison to the other, and re-evaluate them,3 rather it seeks to gain a deeper understanding based on the theological coherence of the authors and by means of a reading that looks at some important convergences between them.4 Both authors use the language of mixture (μίξις and κρᾶσις) to describe the union of the divine and the human in Christ.5 This ‘physical’ language, related to Stoicism, was later rejected as inadequate to express the union of human and 2 See Joseph Tixeront, History of Dogmas. II. From St. Athanasius to St. Augustine (318-430) (St. Louis, MO, 1914), 126-30; John Norman D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines (New York, 1978), 280-300; Alois Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition: From the Apostolic Age to Chalcedon (451) (London, 1975), 367-77. Currently, ideas on the comprehension of the Christological mystery in this period tend to be more positive and surely less anachronistic. See Basil Studer, Trinity and Incarnation. The Faith of the Early Church (London, 1993), 101-14, 193-7; Brian E. Daley, God Visible: Patristic Christology Reconsidered (Oxford, 2018), 126-49; Claudio Moreschini, I Padri Cappadoci: Storia, letteratura, teologia (Roma, 2008), 287-308; John Behr, The Nicene Faith, I-II (Crestwood, NY, 2004). 3 In this regard see, for example, the revisionist narrative by Lewis Ayres, Nicaea and its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Theology (Oxford, 2004); or that by Christopher A. Beeley, The Unity of Christ: Continuity and Conflict in Patristic Tradition (New Haven, 2012). 4 About Gregory of Nazianzus’ Christology see, among others, Donald F. Winslow, The Dynamics of Salvation: A Study in Gregory of Nazianzus (Philadelphia, 1979); Nonna V. Harrison, ‘Some Aspects of Saint Gregory the Theologian’s Soteriology’, Greek Orthodox Theological Review 34 (1989), 11-8; Jean-Robert Pouchet, ‘Les Lettres christologiques de Grégoire de Nazianze à Cledonios: De la lettre 102 à la 101’, Augustinianum 40 (2000), 43-58; John A. McGuckin, Saint Gregory of Nazianzus: An Intellectual Biography (Crestwood, NY, 2001); Christopher Beeley, ‘Gregory of Nazianzus on the Unity of Christ’, in Peter W. Martens (ed.), In the Shadow of the Incarnation: Essays on Jesus Christ in the Early Church in Honor of Brian E. Daley, S.J. (Notre Dame, 2008), 97-120; Andrew Hofer, Christ in the Life and Teaching of Gregory of Nazianzus (Oxford, 2013). About Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology, see Lucas F. Mateo-Seco, Estudios sobre la Cristología de Gregorio de Nisa (Pamplona, 1978); Elias D. Moutsoulas (ed.), Jesus Christ in St. Gregory of Nyssa’s Theology: Minutes of the Ninth International Conference on St. Gregory of Nyssa (Athens, 7-12 September 2000) (Athens, 2005). In addition, about the ongoing movement of rethinking his position, see, among others: Brian E. Daley, ‘Divine Transcendence and Human Transformation: Gregory of Nyssa’s Anti-Apollinarian Christology’, SP 32 (1997), 87-95; Lucas F. Mateo-Seco, ‘Notas sobre el lenguaje cristológico de Gregorio de Nisa’, Scripta Theologica 35 (2003), 89-112; Sarah Coakley, ‘“Mingling” in Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology: A Reconsideration’, in Andreas Schuele and Günter Thomas (eds), Who is Jesus Christ for us today? Pathways to Contemporary Christology (Louisville, 2009), 72-84; Johannes Zachhuber, ‘Gregory of Nyssa: Contra Eunomium III 4’, in Johan Leemans and Matthieu Cassin (eds), Gregory of Nyssa Contra Eunomium III. An English Translation with Commentary and Supporting Studies (Leiden, 2014), 313-34; Miguel Brugarolas, ‘Theological Remarks on Gregory of Nyssa’s Christological Language of “Mixture”’, SP 84 (2017), 39-57. 5 About mingling language in philosophy, see Richard Sorabji, The Philosophy of the Commentators, 200-600 AD. Volume 2: Physics (Ithaca, 2005), 290-315.

From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology

79

divine natures in the person of the Word incarnate. According to A. Grillmeier, the fact that the Cappadocian Fathers took recourse to Stoic theories about the mixing of two natural things which completely permeate each other without either losing their nature, shows that they sought the unity of Christ on a natural level. Whereas in trinitarian doctrine they clearly recognized that unity and distinction in the Godhead are to be understood through different approaches, in Christology they only dimly grasped a corresponding insight, since they remain in the realm of material categories.6 Grillmeier balanced this criticism by saying that the Cappadocians actually ‘have seen something’ and that, in any case, they ‘wanted to maintain both true unity and true distinction in Christ’. But he does not offer any further explanation of this.7 In these pages we will attempt to analyse whether the description of the unity of Christ made by Gregory of Nazianzus and his namesake of Nyssa responds to the philosophical syncretism or eclecticism that prevailed in the fourth century, or whether this language can actually be understood as a way of expressing the paradoxical nature of the incarnation. A union which is paradoxical precisely because it takes into consideration both the transcendence of the Logos and the soteriological effectiveness of the incarnation.8 Within the field of trinitarian doctrine, the development of the Cappadocian Fathers entailed a clear affirmation of the distinction between God and creatures, as an essential element to ensure divine transcendence and at the same time, the closeness of God to man in his activity ad extra.9 For this reason, it is worthwhile to ask if this also plays an essential role in their Christology, that is to say, how their explanation of the unity of the human and the divine in Christ is marked by the soteriological principle of divine oikonomia, and along with it, by the great epistemological achievement of distinguishing-without-separating divine immanence and divine action. It is, at its core, an attempt to see if behind the language of mixture the Cappadocian Fathers comprehend the incarnation with material categories such as a physical union and at a physical level – at the level of natures (physis) –, or if they try to underscore that the incarnation is a physical union, a real and concrete union, but not at the level of natures – Christ is not an anthropotheos – or as demanded by nature – which would imply a fusion or absorption of the human into the divine, and therefore, negate the transcendence of the Word –, but at a paradoxical level and by God’s free economy of salvation. The paradoxical character of the incarnation points to the dynamic nature of soteriology. A dynamism that cannot be fully understood 6

See A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition (1975), 369. Ibid. 8 See M. Brugarolas, ‘Theological Remarks’ (2017), 39-57. 9 As an example, it is very clear the division of Gregory of Nyssa’s Oratio catechetica into a theological part where he deals with the Trinity in itself and an economic part devoted to the incarnation and sacraments. See Gregory of Nyssa, Oratio catechetica, ed. E. Mühlenberg, GNO III/4 (Leiden, 1996), 5-15, 36-106. 7

M. BRUGAROLAS

80

without paying attention to the relationship between the work fo Christ and the work of the Spirit. Perhaps, it is the Cappadocian’s pnematological Christology what best illuminates the meaning behind the paradox. The convergence of both authors when reflecting upon the Christological question from the perspective of the economy of salvation, which is truly pneumatological, and the highlighting of its paradoxical character would seem to point in that direction. Gregory of Nazianzus Andrew Hofer, in his study on the Christology of Gregory of Nazianzus has beautifully highlighted the inseparable character of Gregory’s thinking and spiritual life, expressing what is called an ‘autobiographical Christology’.10 Christology permeates, in one way or another, all the writings of Gregory, whether biographical, liturgical or theological. For this reason, the undeniable value of the two discourses De Filio11 and the Letters to Cledonius,12 cannot be dissociated from the more pastoral Christology which has been disseminated with great rhetorical ability in his sermons, verses and letters. It is enough to read, for example, some of his liturgical sermons of the Christmas or Easter cycle13 to realise the ease with which Gregory links the doctrine on God, the Trinity and Jesus Christ, and the pastoral teachings14. Besides, it is perhaps in these texts where the soteriological meaning of the union between the human and the divine in Christ which permeates Nazianzus’s Christology is most evident. Wholly cleansing like by like In his oration On Theopany,15 and again in his On the Holy Pascha Gregory offers a worthy reflection on God’s mystery and God’s salvific activity with a deep Christological dimension. He starts reflecting on God and then continues 10

A. Hofer, Christ (2013), 5. Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 29, ed. Paul Gallay, SC 250, 176-224; Oratio 30, ed. P. Gallay, SC 250, 226-74. 12 Id., Epistulae 101 and 102, ed. P. Gallay, SC 208, 36-94. 13 See id., On the Theopany (Oratio 38, ed. Claudio Moreschini, SC 358, 104-48), On the Holy Lights (Oratio 39, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 150-97), and On Baptism (Oratio 40, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 198-310); and On Pascha and on His Slowness (Oratio 1, ed. Jean Bernardi, SC 247, 72-82), On Pentecost (Oratio 41, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 312-54), For New Sunday (Oratio 44, PG 36, 608-21) and On Holy Pascha (Oratio 45; PG 36, 623-64). 14 See A. Hofer, Christ (2013), 153-93; Nonna V. Harrison, Saint Gregory of Nazianzus: Festal Orations (Crestwood, NY, 2008), 11-56. 15 Gregory preached this homily in Constantinople in Christmas of 380. Perhaps on the 25th of December or around the celebrations of the Epiphany during the first days of January of 381. About 11

From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology

81

with the divine economy: creation, fall and redemption.16 The text stresses the continuity in time of divine economy, since there never was a time when God did not love man. In this narrative the Christological issues irrupt when humanity required a greater help and received the Word of God himself. The ‘unchangeable image’ of the Father, says Gregory, ‘came to his own proper image and bore flesh for the sake of flesh, and mingled with a rational soul for my soul’s sake, wholly cleansing like by like. He became human in all respects, except sin’.17 The context is clearly that of the economy of salvation: the Word who is ‘the source of life and immortality and the imprint of the archetypal beauty’ is incarnated to restore the image of God in man that had been damaged by sin.18 The Word’s assumption of a complete humanity, body and soul,19 and of a humanity that is besides, ‘his own proper image’ signifies that salvation takes place because God purified like by like. This expression ‘like by like’ (ῷ ὁμοίῳ τὸ ὅμοιον) is used by Gregory also in his first Letter to Cledonius and reminds the Homeric proverb alluded by Plato to describe the closest possible friendship.20 In Gregory’s text it implies that Man, who was needed to be cured in all dimensions of his being, has been cured by the Word in all of them. Is another way of wording his celebrated formula: ‘For that which he has not assumed he has not healed; but that which is united to his Godhead is also saved’.21 This means also that the source of our salvation is the coming together of the divine and human in Christ and therefore the incarnation must be taken in all its depth and plenitude. Depth, because the union of the Word and humanity must be perfect – ‘one from two opposites’,22 notes Gregory –; and the date of this oratio see Claudio Moreschini, Grégoire de Nazianze. Discours 38-41 (Paris, 1990), 16-22; J.A. McGuckin, Saint Gregory of Nazianzus (2001), 336-7. 16 See Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 38,7-13, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 114-34; Oratio 45,3-9, PG 36, 626-36. 17 SC 358, 132-4. 18 See ibid. 132. 19 See id., Epistula 101,36, ed. P. Gallay, SC 208, 52. 20 Besides the text of Oratio 38,13, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 132-4, just quoted, the expression ῷ ὁμοίῳ τὸ ὅμοιον can be seen in: Oratio 14, PG 35, 908; Oratio 45, PG 36, 633; Epistula 101,51, ed. P. Gallay, SC 208, 58; Epistula 110, 2, ed. P. Gallay, Collection Budé 179, II 6. It reminds the Homeric proverb (Homerus, Odyssea XVII 218) alluded by Plato in Gorgias 510b (‘the closest possible friendship between man and man is that mentioned by the sages of old time as ‘like to like’ [ὁ ὅμοιος τῷ ὁμοίῳ]’) and elsewhere: Protagoras 337d; Symposium 195b; Lysis 214b; and Republic 329a. 21 Gregory of Nazianzus, Epistula 101,32, ed. P. Gallay, SC 208, 50. Christ brings salvation to humanity by becoming equal to us except in sin (see Heb. 4:15). This is a core principle in patristic Christology (see, e.g., Irenaeus of Lyon, Adversus Haereses V 14,1-2; Tertullian, De carne Christi 10; Adversus Marcionem 2,27; Origen, Dialogus cum Heraclide 7) that in Gregory received a formulation which became famous. See Alois Grillmeier, ‘Quod non assumptus–non sanatum’, LThK 8 (1963), 954-6. 22 Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 38,13, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 134.

M. BRUGAROLAS

82

plenitude, because the human nature assumed by the Word must be complete, as sin affected man in all respects of his being and this is demanded by the dynamism of salvation: the Word deifies and humanity is deified.23 If the union fails, or humanity is not assumed by the Word in all its dimensions, salvation loses its basis. It is from this that Gregory refers to the incarnation as ‘the new and unexpected mixture’ that occurred for ‘the healing of our weakness’, for ‘the rising up of the old Adam from the place where he had fallen’.24 The three ideas that appear as key points here: the depth of the union of the human and the divine, the plenitude of the humanity assumed by the Word, and the saviour meaning of the incarnation, are perfectly put together in the following text by Gregory: O new mixture! O unexpected blending! He who is has come to be, the uncreated one is created, the limitless one is contained, through the mediation of a rational soul standing between divinity and the coarseness of flesh. He who is rich is a beggar (2Cor. 8:9) – for he goes begging in my flesh, that I might become rich with his godhead! He who is full has emptied himself (cf. Phil. 2:7) – for he emptied himself of his own glory for a while, that I might have a share of his fullness.25

According to Gregory, the union between the human and the divine in Christ takes place through the mediation of the soul: The rational soul of Jesus is the point of contact between the transcendent Word of God and his ‘coarse’ fleshly body. This idea of the mediation of the soul, surely derived from Origen,26 plays an important role in Gregory’s Christology against Apollinarism and in his most important Christological writings.27 In a well-known passage from the first discourse De Filio he mentions the mediation of the soul saying that the Word ‘took on your coarseness, associating himself with the flesh through the mediation of a mind’.28 The fullness of the Word’s human nature is deeply stressed: a humanity that involves body and soul, that also bears the weight of sin, as the humanity assumed by the Word is the fallen humanity, that bears within the ‘coarseness’ (παχύτης), the ‘heaviness’, of sin. Gregory also refers to the complete humanity of the Word in quite concrete terms: ‘the human being from our world became God’. Only later would expressions such as this take on an Adoptionist sense, 23

See ibid. Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 2,23, ed. J. Bernardi, SC 247, 120. 25 Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 38,13, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 134. 26 See Origen, De principiis II 6,5; 8,2, ed. Henri Crouzel and Manlio Simonetti, SC 252, 318-20, 340-2. 27 It appears in Oratio 29,19, ed. P. Gallay, SC 250, 216-8, in the Epistula 101,48-9, ed. P. Gallay, SC 208, 56-8, and in his poem De incarnatione, adversus Apollinarium (Carm. 1,1,10, 56-61, PG 37, 467), as well as in Oratio 2, where Gregory says: ‘God was blended with the flesh through the medium of the soul and two separate realities were knit together by the affinity to each of that mediating’ (Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 2,23, ed. J. Bernardi, SC 247, 120). 28 Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 29,19, ed. P. Gallay, SC 250, 216-8; tr. L.R. Wickham, 86. 24

From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology

83

as orthodox Christology would by then have other ways of describing the incarnation. Nevertheless, this is not the meaning of Gregory’s statement, where stress is laid on the plenitude of assumed humanity and the context speaks of the unity of the incarnated Word.29 What the text underscores is that Christ is the perfect man because the salvation of the complete man is at stake. The Word takes on a complete human nature so thus he can carry out the ‘marvellous exchange’. As A. Hofer has pointed out, and beyond the Platonic resonances that the topic may have ‘the mediation of the mind in the incarnation shows the divine intimacy with humanity in its highest part, the part most resembling God, yet most needing purification in sinners in order for salvation in the whole human to occur’.30 Indeed, as mentioned earlier, God saves like by like, that is to say, He saves mankind through the Word in whose image they were created and saves them precisely by restoring in their soul the image that was lost due to sin. Gregory explains it in the following text: I had a share in the image, and did not preserve it; he shares in my flesh, so that he might both save the image and make the flesh immortal. He establishes a second communion, much more paradoxical than the first: then he gave a share in what is better, but now he takes a share in what is worse. This is more divine in form than the first communion; this, to those who have sense, is more lofty!31

The ‘first communion’ (κοινωνία) to which Gregory refers here is the participation on divine life received by man upon being created in God’s image, that is, in the image of the Son that, as being equal to the Father, is the Image of God, the Archetype.32 Sin broke this communion and God, participating himself in the life of man, established a ‘second communion’. Gregory of Nazianzus emphasizes the ‘communion’, which the incarnation of the Word establishes between God and humanity, as the fundamental purpose of both creation and redemption. For this reason, he constantly repeats that thanks to the incarnation, man has a share in the fullness of God and becomes God.33 For Gregory there is nothing greater for human lowliness than to be woven with God and to become God34 and this is only possible through ‘the new beginning of natures’,35 the newness of the incarnation. He elaborates on this in a beautiful fragment in Oratio 39: 29 Gregory’s statements about Christ unity, like his repeated expression ‘one and the same’ Son of God, are well known. See, for example, Epistula 101,13-5, ed. P. Gallay, SC 208, 40-2. 30 See A. Hofer, Christ (2013), 114-7; see Gregory of Nazianzus, Epistula 101,40, ed. P. Gallay, SC 208, 52. 31 Id., Oratio 38,13, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 134. 32 See id., Oratio 1,4, ed. J. Bernardi, SC 247, 76. 33 See, e.g., id., Oratio 29,19, ed. P. Gallay, SC 250, 218; Oratio 38,13, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 134. 34 See id., Oratio 30,3, ed. P. Gallay, SC 250, 230. 35 Id., Oratio 39,13, ed. Moreschini, SC 358, 176.

M. BRUGAROLAS

84

Natures are made anew; God becomes human; the one who ‘rides on the heaven of heavens in the sunrise’ (Ps. 67:34) of his own proper glory and splendour, is glorified in the sunset of our ordinariness and lowliness, and the Son of God allows himself to become and be called Son of Man: not changing what he was – for he is changeless – but taking on what he was not – for he loves the human race – so that the incomprehensible one might be comprehended, associating with us through the medium of flesh as through a veil, since it was not proper to a nature subject to growth and decay to bear his deity in its pure form.36

This text is a good synthesis of the novelty of the incarnation which makes humanity’s communion with God possible again. This second communion with God is only achieved through paradox: God and man, sunrise and sunset, Son of God and Son of Man, changeless (ἄτρεπτον) and philanthropos (φιλάνθρωπος), incomprehensible and comprehended. And this paradoxical union takes place ‘through the medium of the flesh’ (διὰ μέσης σαρκός), as the presence of the Word in Jesus is revealed only through the renewed yet fully normal humanity that is his.37 And this is precisely what constitutes the novelty, as Gregory continues: What could not be mixed has been mixed: not simply God and change, not simply mind and flesh, not simply the timeless one and time, (…) but also, birth and virginity, dishonour with the one who is higher than all honour, impassible being with suffering, immortal substance with decay.38

The passage concludes with the explanation of this paradoxical union of opposites, which was used by the Lord to defeat the enemy, making the Father of Lies fall into his own trap: Misled by the veil of the flesh ‘when he meant to attack Adam, he encountered God and death was put to death by flesh’.39 It demonstrates that the union of the contraries, of that which cannot be mixed by itself, is carried out by the Word, and that in this union resides humanity’s salvation. The new and unexpected mixture of the Incarnation Gregory understands mixture in Christ as a blending not of two equally powerful elements to make a third, but rather a blending in which an immeasurable more powerful agent penetrates, and so transforms, a weaker one:40 ‘The stronger overcomes the weaker’ or ‘the Godhead predominates over the frail 36

Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 39,13, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 176, tr. B. Daley, 133. See B.E. Daley, God Visible (2018), 137. 38 Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 39,13, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 176, tr. B. Daley, 133. 39 See ibid. 176. There is a similar reflection in Gregory of Nyssa’s Oratio catechetica, ed. E. Mühlenberg, GNO III/4, 58-63. 40 B.E. Daley, God Visible (2018), 135. 37

From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology

85

flesh’ are some of Gregory’s wordings.41 In the union of natures, divinity predominates. This is especially important because it forms the basis of the union’s saving efficacy. The Word, taking the form of a servant, says Gregory ‘stooped down to his fellow servants and took on a form foreign to himself, bearing me, with all that is mine, completely in himself, that in himself he might consume what is worse and that I might receive, in return, what is his, as a result of the mixture’.42 He uses the image of a fire consuming wax and of the sun clearing the mist to describe God’s transformation of humanity through the incarnation. Thus, as B. Daley affirms, it seems that Gregory’s talk of ‘mixture’ is a striking and concrete metaphor to capture the paradoxical yet ontologically real encounter of two wholly unequal realms of being.43 More than a theory about the physical blending of substances or about the relations between the intelligible and the sensible as the two polarities of existing things, borrowed from Stoic, Platonic or Aristotelian cosmologies,44 Gregory might be describing the core of the Christian idea of the incarnation, which is a paradoxical conjunction of unity, distinction and transformation between God and Man. The paradox carries more weight than the concrete terminology used to express the union. Both Apollinarism and dualism lead to the dissolution of the central paradoxes that make the Mystery of salvation what it is, and the Christological controversy at this stage is more a matter of keeping the paradox than a terminological debate. Rather than the semantics of the words, it is the new syntax which implies the incarnation that is emphasised: the new relation between God and humanity revealed in Christ and expressed here by means of paradox, ‘what could not be mixed has been mixed’.45 Paradox is not a matter of mere rhetoric, but the core of Christian salvation. Gregory places great importance on paradox in his theology: indeed, he highlights it in one of his affirmations regarding the unity of the Trinity: ‘we adore the unity with the Trinity and the Trinity in unity, with the paradox of distinction and union’.46 Nevertheless, the definition of the terms of the union is also important. It is not the unity of ‘one subject with another’, this is what occurs within the Trinity, but the unity of ‘one thing and another’ that are one by commixture. He explains it in a well-known passage from Letter 101: If we must speak concisely, the elements from which the Saviour has come to be are one thing and another (ἄλλο μὴν καὶ ἄλλο) – if indeed the visible and the invisible are not the same thing, nor the timeless and the temporal – but not one subject and another (ἄλλος δὲ καὶ ἄλλος) – no way! For both are one by combination (συγκράσει), with 41 Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 29,19, ed. P. Gallay, SC 250, 216-8; Epistula 101,29, ed. P. Gallay, SC 208, 48. 42 See id., Oratio 30,6, ed. P. Gallay, SC 250, 236. 43 B.E. Daley, God Visible (2018), 136. 44 As A. Grillmeier suggested in his Christ in Christian Tradition (1975), 368-9. 45 See Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 39,13, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 176. 46 Id., Oratio 25,17, ed. Justin Mossay, SC 284, 198. See also Carm I/1 3,60, ed. Sykes, 14.

M. BRUGAROLAS

86

God becoming human or a human being becoming God, or however one might express it. But I say ‘one thing and another’, the opposite of what is true of the Trinity. For there we speak of ‘one subject and another’ (ἄλλος καὶ ἄλλος), lest we confuse the individuals (ὑποστάσεις), but not of ‘one thing and another’, for the three are one and the same in divinity.47

Gregory articulates the intrinsic connection between the Trinitarian understanding of God and the conception of the person of Christ he has: the single Son of God who is at once truly human and truly divine.48 The context of this passage is the unity of Christ: there are no two sons, the Son of God and the son of Mary, rather the Word incarnate, God and man, is only one. In this point of discussion, as highlighted by B. Studer, Gregory ‘broke new ground with his formulation allon kai allon, not allos kai allos. By going back to the trinitarian formula ‘not one (person) but one (thing)’, he pointed to the right way of making trinitarian and christological dogma parallel, that would prove instrumental in solving the problem of Christ’s unity’.49 The Theologian points out that the union is not of subjects but physical, that is, a unity of natures. He frequently uses the formula ‘one and the same’ to designate this unity of natures in Christ. Here is an example from the same Letter to Cledonius: For we do not sever the human being from the Godhead; no, we affirm and teach one and the same God and Son, at first not man but alone and pre-eternal, unmingled with body or anything corporeal; but who in these last days has assumed humanity also for our salvation; the same passible in flesh, impassible in Godhead; circumscribed in body, uncircumscribed in Spirit; at once earthly and heavenly, visible and known spiritually, finite and infinite; that by one and the same, who was perfect human and also God, the entire humanity, fallen under sin, might be created anew.50

This unity of natures in Christ, unity of passible flesh and impassible divinity, of finite and infinite, is the source of human salvation and it is due to divine philanthropy and not out of necessity. The paradoxical union of God the Son with our humanity is not eternal but has taken place ‘in these last days’ for our salvation.51 The philanthropia of the Logos, far from demonstrating his subordination – as was the goal of the Arian exegesis – manifests that the Logos himself assumes an active role in the salvation of man created in his image. The submission of the Son to the law of flesh and therefore to suffering and death is not to be interpreted as a sign of his inferiority to the Father, as Christ 47

Id., Epistula 101,20-1, ed. P. Gallay, SC 208, 44-6. Brian E. Daley, ‘The Persons in God and the Person of Christ in Patristic Theology: An Argument for Parallel Development’, in Andrew McGowan, Brian Daley and Timothy Gaden (eds), God in Early Christian Thought: Essays in Memory of Lloyd G. Patterson (Leiden, 2009), 323-50, 326. 49 B. Studer, Trinity and Incarnation (1993), 195. 50 Gregory of Nazianzus, Epistula 101,13-5, ed. P. Gallay, SC 208, 40-2. 51 See id., Oratio 44,2, PG 36, 607-9. 48

From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology

87

undergoes it of his own will, ‘he did it willingly’, and is resurrected, revealing the Father’s ‘good pleasure’ in him and his own ‘power’.52 This is an important argument in Gregory’s theology, which distinguishes clearly what belongs to the Word because of his divinity and equality with the Father and what belongs to him because of the economy of salvation, for which he assumed a human nature and all its corresponding limitations. The union of the divine and the human in Christ does not confuse the terms that belong to the theologia with those of the oikonomia.53 It is a well-balanced Christology: after the incarnation, that which is divine continues to be divine, and that which belongs to humanity is predicated of Christ by the humanity that he has assumed. The distinction between these properties does not split the unity of him who is designated with this appellation: the one and the same Son of God.54 In the background of this balance, there is a deep understanding of divine economy; it is due to divine love for humankind that God knitted together what he is and what he assumed. Gregory’s Christology is inseparable from his comprehension of salvation. The Son by the assumption of a fully human life brings a new life for humanity, which is a real participation in the Son’s divine life. For Gregory, to confess the mystery of Christ implies accepting that the love of God for man is able to carry out the union of human and divine, and above all, to participate in this union.

Perfection, re-shape and the return to the first Adam For Gregory the participation of humanity in Christ is not only a matter of Christology but Pneumatology: the participation in Christ’s life is a gift from the Spirit: ‘you become God by his gift’, says Gregory.55 Gregory’s Christology remains incomplete without pneumatology. Is the Spirit the One who leads to perfection the new communion with God inaugurated by Christ. ‘My perfection, my re-shaping, my return to the first Adam’,56 as Gregory describes the union with God in Christ, is accomplished by the Spirit. The Holy Spirit witnesses his own divine nature and manifests himself perfecting what has already been fully accomplished, but only potentially made available, 52

See ibid. 138. See ibid. 216. 54 Throughout his writings Gregory carries out a clearly biblically inspired exercise of the communicatio idiomatum, which he even formulates as follows: ‘Just as the natures are blended, so too are the titles which mutually transfer by the principle of their natural togetherness’ (Gregory of Nazianzus, Epistula 101,31, ed. P. Gallay, SC 208, 48; tr. L.R. Wickham, 158). About Gregory’s exegesis of divine and human properties applied to Christ, see J. Behr, The Nicene Faith II (2004), 350-2. 55 Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 39,17, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 186. 56 Id., Oratio 38,16, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, tr. B. Daley, 126. 53

M. BRUGAROLAS

88

through the economy of the incarnation.57 Somehow the action of the Spirit prolongs in the Christian what has been realised in Christ. Thus, the union of Christ and the Holy Spirit58 continues in the Christian. Precisely about this continuity deals Gregory in his Oratio On Pentecost: At Pentecost what concerns the earthly live of Christ’s dwelling with us is ended and what concerns the Spirit is beginning.59 At the central part of this Oratio, Gregory compares the action of the Spirit in the angels, in the patriarchs and prophets and in Christ’s disciples, with the presence of the Spirit in Christ himself: ‘I leave aside speaking of Christ, to whom he is present not by action but as accompanying one equal in honour’.60 He thus distinguishes the sanctifying and powerful action of the Spirit on creatures, from its equal to equal presence in Christ. Which is also a pneumatological way of affirming the perfect divinity of Christ: The Spirit is present in Christ as it corresponds to his divine being.61 In creatures, on the contrary, this presence of equal honour is absent. The angels received from the Spirit their perfection, their illumination and their difficulty or impossibility of moving toward evil. In the patriarchs and prophets, the Spirit acted by means of his own power bestowing on the knowledge of God and prophecies. And in Christ’s disciples, the Spirit acted in three ways, to the extent they were able to receive him, and on three occasions.62 These three moments correspond to the life of Christ: before the glorification of his passion, after he was glorified by his resurrection, and after his ascension to heaven and his restoration. Before and after the resurrection of Christ, the Spirit acted upon the disciples first, through the purification of the sick and of spirits, and, later, with its inbreathing, which is a more divine inspiration. In both cases, the Spirit was manifested firstly more indistinctly and later on more expressly, but was present only as an energy. In Pentecost, the Spirit ‘is no longer present by an energy as it was at first, but in essence, if one may speak thus, coming to be with them and living with them’.63 And this is so because, according to Gregory, ‘it was fitting, since the Son associated with us corporeally, that the Spirit also should appear corporeally; and after Christ ascended again to his own place, that he should descend to us, coming in that he is Lord, and sent in that he is not a rival God’.64 57

D.F. Winslow, The Dynamics (1979), 129. Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 31,29, ed. P. Gallay, SC 250, 334; tr. N.V. Harrison, 139. 59 See id., Oratio 41,5, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 324. 60 Ibid. 338; tr. N.V. Harrison, 153. 61 See Boris Bobrinskoy, ‘The Indwelling of the Spirit in Christ. “Pneumatic Christology” in the Cappadocian Fathers’, St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly 28 (1984), 49-66, 61: For the Cappadocians ‘to speak of the presence of the Spirit in Jesus at the various stages of his human life is above all to remember that the very name of “Christ” is supremely a trinitarian and “pneumatophoric” name’. 62 See Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 41,11, ed. C. Moreschini, SC 358, 338. 63 Ibid. 340; tr. N.V. Harrison, 153. 64 Ibid. 58

From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology

89

Gregory of Nazianzus who describes elsewhere salvation of man as becoming god because of Christ’s incarnation, shows here that this transformation is also pneumatological. The Spirit, along with Christ, descended to us, so we can ascend, and thus there will be ‘a communion of God with human beings by a coalescing of dignity’.65 The economy of salvation does not end with Christ but it includes inseparably, the action of the Holy Spirit: ‘The Spirit fashions together with the Son both the creation and the resurrection (…) He also fashions the spiritual rebirth’.66 This communion, as long as each remains at his own level, does not diminish ‘the great chasm that cannot be crossed’ (cf. Lk. 16:26) among the ‘created and changing nature from that which is uncreated and stable’.67 It is therefore a communion with God which continues to frame itself within the paradox: to become God and to participate in his dignity does not conflate the difference between the creator and the creature. Throughout these pages we have witnessed that the paradoxical union of the divine and the human in Christ constitutes for Gregory, the mystery of the new communion between man and God, which restores the divine image lost due to sin, and which elevates man to divine dignity. This is thanks to the incarnation: one and the same God, the Son, took on a complete human nature – soul and body – and embraced the coarseness of the wounded humanity; and thanks also to the action of the Holy Spirit. The Trinity is complete with the Spirit and it is Him whom leads soteriology also to its culmination: ‘From the light, the Father, we receive the light, the Son, in the light, the Holy Spirit. Brief and simple theology of the Trinity’.68 Gregory of Nyssa Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology shows great similarities to that of his namesake from Nazianzus.69 Behind their obvious differences in style and literary form, there is a great correspondence in their soteriological understanding and in its paradoxical form. Similar to the Nazianzen, the Nyssen’s Christology is far more extensive than what can be found in his dogmatic writings against the Eunomian and Apollinarian doctrines. In fact, Gregory’s profoundly Christocentric thinking permeates his understanding of Christian life and his biblical exegesis.70 Many examples of this interconnection can be provided, but perhaps 65

Ibid. 342; tr. N.V. Harrison, 153. Ibid. 344; tr. N.V. Harrison, 155-6. 67 Ibid. 342; tr. N.V. Harrison, 154-5. 68 See id., Oratio 31,3, ed. P. Gallay, SC 250, 280; see John A. McGuckin, ‘“Perceiving Light from Light in Light” (Oratio 31.3: The Trinitarian Theology of Saint Gregory the Theologian)’, GOTR 39 (1994), 7-32, 31. 69 See B.E. Daley, God Visible (2018), 138. 70 See Jean Daniélou, Platonisme et théologie mystique (Paris, 1944), 252-8, 309; W. Völker, Gregor von Nyssa als Mystiker (Wiesbaden, 1955), 269-74; see E. Moutsoulas, ‘The person of 66

90

M. BRUGAROLAS

the following passage of De beatitudinibus could serve as an especially eloquent sample for this purpose, thanks to its biblical character, spiritual sense, and Christological content. Moreover, it is a passage employed in the documents of the Council of Ephesus, alongside a fragment extracted from Gregory of Nazianzus’ Epistle 101,71 due to its relevant description of the union between the divine and the human in Christ and the paradoxical character of this union: What is poorer for God than the form of a slave? What humbler for the King of all that is, than willingly coming to share our impoverishment? The King of kings and Lord of lords (cf. Lk. 2:1-5); the Lord of all creation lodges in a cave; he who has grasped the universe finds no room in the inn, but is cast aside in the eating-trough of dumb beasts (cf. Lk. 2,7); the Pure and Undefiled accepts the stain of human nature, and progressing through all our poverty advances to the experience of death. You see the standard of his willing poverty: Life tastes death, the Judge is brought to trial, the King of all the supernatural host does not fend off the hands of his executioners.72

This fragment belongs to the first homily in De beatitudinibus, in which Gregory of Nyssa examines the ideal of human life as an imitation of the divine nature. It is possible that Gregory had Plato in mind as he reflects on this matter73 and, more certainly, recalled the Gospel’s exhortation to be perfect as the Father is perfect (cf. Mt. 5:48).74 As he refines this point, he vigorously joins – as did Clement of Alexandria and Origen – the imitation of the divine nature and the imitation of Christ.75 For Gregory of Nyssa, bearing in mind the divine impassibility and the passionate character of humanity,76 the imitation of the divine nature would have been impossible without the incarnation. Thus, God himself is the one who, through Christ, gave us the divine humility which we can imitate.77 Basing himself on Phil. 2:7, Gregory exhorts his readers to take Jesus Christ in St. Gregory of Nyssa’, in id., Jesus Christ (2005), 102-13, 107; Lucas F. Mateo-Seco, ‘Christology’, in id. and G. Maspero (eds), The Brill Dictionary of Gregory of Nyssa (Leiden, 2010), 139-52, 139. 71 Eduardus Schwartz, Acta Conciliorum Œcumenicorum, Concilium Universale Ephesinum (Berlin, 1927), I 1/2, 43-5; see André-Jean Festugière, Ephèse et Chalcédoine. Actes des Conciles (Paris, 1982), 234-6. 72 Gregory of Nyssa, De beatitudinibus I, ed. Johannes F. Callahan, GNO VII/2, 84; tr. S. Hall, 27. 73 See Plato, Theaetetus 176b-177a; Republic 613b. 74 See, e.g., Gregory of Nyssa, De professione Christiana, ed. Wernerus Jaeger, GNO VIII/1, 136, 138-40. 75 See id., De perfectione, ed. Wernerus Jaeger, GNO VIII/1, 135; see W. Völker, Gregor von Nyssa (1955), 253; L.F. Mateo-Seco, ‘Imitation’, in id. and G. Maspero (eds), The Brill Dictionary (2010), 502-5, 502. 76 See Gregory of Nyssa, De beatitudinibus I, ed. J.F. Callahan, GNO VII/2, 83; Oratio catechetica, ed. E. Mühlenberg, GNO III/4, 15-20. 77 See id., De beatitudinibus I, ed. J.F. Callahan, GNO VII/2, 83-4, and also De perfectione, ed. W. Jaeger, GNO VIII/1, 194; Anthony Meredith, ‘Gregory of Nyssa, De Beatitudinibus, Oratio I: “Blessed are the Poor in Spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven” (Mt 5,3)’, in Hubertus R. Drobner and Alberto Viciano (eds), Gregory of Nyssa: Homilies on the Beatitudes. And English Version with Commentary and Supporting Studies (Leiden, 2000), 93-109, 98.

From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology

91

Christ’s ‘voluntary humility’ as a model and then describes his abasement as humility that paradoxically unites the opposites. He also does this in homilies in which Jesus is constantly called Logos and Kyrios and the subject of all Christ’s human actions is openly identified with the Logos.78 It is a text, therefore, wherein one sees how the incarnation completely changes the paradigm of the ideal of life. That which philosophy proposed as a path of divinization – the imitation of God – is paradoxically concretized in a path of humility and sufferings – something really distant from the Hellenic ideal. It is now opportune to stress that, for the Nyssen, the imitation of Christ and the imitation of the divine nature are equivalent, since imitating the life of Christ means following and uniting oneself to the incarnate Word. Therefore, when Gregory describes Christ as the very beatitude throughout these homilies, or when, in In canticum, he asserts that Christ is the divine philanthropy itself,79 or when here and there he refers to Christ as the ‘first fruits’ of all mankind, he is expressing a deep Christology: Christ is beatitude itself, his name is φιλανθρωπία, and his humanity is the ‘first fruits’ of salvation because he unites the human to God through himself, since he is the incarnate Word.80

An Oxymoronic Christology The above-quoted text from De beatitudinibus illustrates how Gregory of Nyssa, when speaking of Christ, seeks – just like the Nazianzen – to underline the paradox that the incarnation entails. The union of the divine and the human in Christ is an ineffable and inexpressible mystery.81 Gregory is well aware of that and thereby takes an apophatic approach to the ‘great mystery of the divine incarnation’.82 Rather than explaining how the incarnation occurs, he strives to underline its paradoxes by closely following the New Testament narrative.83 In fact, the study of this paradox helps one understand Gregory’s complex use of the language of mixture from a perspective more appropriate to the apophatic and soteriological character of his Christology. The way he uses the communicatio idiomatum is a good example of this. In the following fragment taken 78 See Lucas F. Mateo-Seco, ‘Cristo en las homilías de Beatitudinibus de Gregorio de Nisa’, in Elisabeth Reinhardt (ed.), Tempus Implendi Promissa: Homenaje al Prof. Dr. Domingo RamosLissón (Pamplona, 2000), 359-76. 79 See, e.g., Gregory of Nyssa, In Canticum canticorum IV, ed. Hermannus Langerbeck, GNO VI, 107.4-5; ibid. 332.8; ibid. 441.3-4. 80 See Gregory of Nyssa, De perfectione, ed. W. Jaeger, GNO VIII/1, 204.18-9. 81 See Gregory of Nyssa, Oratio catechetica, ed. Ekkehardus Mühlenberg, GNO III/4, 48. 82 Ibid. 67. 83 It is significant, for example, how Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology seems to be deeply shaped by the hymn of Phil. 2:6-9 and the prologue of John, see L.F. Mateo-Seco, Estudios (1978), 29-77.

92

M. BRUGAROLAS

from the Antirrheticus, Gregory does what could be rightly labelled as communicatio nominum: Now the human side of Christ, in accordance with normal human custom, was named by a particular name which he had received through the revelation made by Gabriel to the maiden, and the name of his humanity, as has been said, was Jesus. His divine nature, however, cannot be expressed by a name but the two [the divine and human natures] became one through their co-mingling. For that reason, God receives his name from his humanity: ‘For at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow’ (cf. Phil. 2:10), and a man becomes ‘above every name’. This is a distinctive feature of the deity which cannot be expressed by means of a particular designation. The aim is that what is lofty came to be lowly, so what is lowly should put on lofty titles. As the deity is named through the man, so that which has been raised up to the deity from its lowly state, acquires a ‘name which is above every name’.84

This beautiful text perfectly frames the issues of divine ineffability and the name of Christ; it ‘suggests that Gregory held a stronger, rather than a weaker, sense of the unity of Christ’.85 The argument is very clear: the Word that is beyond every name acquires a human name through the incarnation. The Word continues to be ineffable, but he has united himself to man in such a way that he has a name that can be pronounced and by which he can be known. Gregory’s forceful statement that the Word has received a human name neither does violence to his apophatic theology nor contradicts the ineffability of God.86 The Word – like the Father – is beyond all knowledge and all words. This communication of names is an expression of a Christology that is perfectly consistent with Gregory’s apophatism: He who receives the name is ineffable, and the name itself is elevated above every name. With this, Gregory places us before the paradox of the very mystery of Christ. Thanks to the incarnation, the ineffable God can be designated with a proper name, Jesus, at the same time that the human name is elevated to divinity.87 This elevation of Jesus’ humanity toward the divinity – ‘man above every name’ – also leads ones to think that Christ is a perfect man, but is not a common man (vulgaris homo).88 For Gregory, it was not the Word that was made slave to nature, but it was nature that was placed at the service of the dignity of the One who inserted himself into human life.89 84 Gregory of Nyssa, Antirrheticus adversus Apolinarium, ed. Fridericus Mueller, GNO III/1 (Leiden, 1958), 161.16-26; tr. A. Meredith, Gregory of Nyssa (London, 2003), 58. 85 A. Meredith, Gregory of Nyssa (2003), 150. 86 See Giulio Maspero, Essere e relazione. L’ontologia trinitaria di Gregorio di Nissa (Roma, 2013), 79-85. 87 See Lucas F. Mateo-Seco, ‘Kenosis, Exaltación de Cristo y Apocatástasis en la exégesis a Filipenses 2,5-11 de S. Gregorio de Nisa’, Scripta Theologica 3 (1971), 301-42, 325. 88 See Gregory of Nyssa, Antirrheticus, ed. F. Mueller, GNO III/1, 160.9-10. 89 See Michel Aubineau, Grégoire de Nysse. Traité de la Virginité, SC 119 (Paris, 1966), 161-4.

From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology

93

This magnificent example of communicatio idiomatum agrees with what Gregory says in Homily VIII of In Canticum, commenting on the revelation of the ‘multiform wisdom of God through the church’ (Eph. 3:10-2). There Gregory explains that ‘multiform wisdom’ is the revelation of the economy of salvation through the ‘marvel’ of the ‘contraries’ that God has accomplished in Christ. God’s manifold wisdom was revealed, through the economy of Christ’s incarnation, not only to man, but also to the heavenly powers. Celestial powers were familiar only with the uniform divine operation as it worked miracles in accordance with its nature, but now with Christ’s incarnation the wisdom of God ‘works great wonders through things that are quite the contrary’:90 That ‘manifold’ quality of the divine wisdom, which arises by the union of opposites, has only now been clearly revealed to them [heavenly powers] ‘through the church’: how the Word becomes flesh, the Life is mingled with death, in his bruises our wound is healed, the infirmity of the cross brings down the power of the adversary, the invisible is revealed in the flesh, the captives are ransomed, he himself is both purchaser and price (for he gave himself to death as a ransom for us), he is in the throes of death and does not depart from life, he is sent into slavery and remains a King.91

The text describes how the wisdom of God acts in Christ through the very close union of the Word’s divine nature and the humanity he assumed in the incarnation. The economy of salvation is accomplished in the union of the divine and the human in Christ, because God acts in and through his humanity, i.e. the ‘mortal substance’ of his flesh,92 the ‘material nature’ of his human body.93 It is a mysterious union that is revealed by God, not only to men, but also to the principalities and powers of heaven. We could say, reading this text together with the previous one, that in Christ, man has not given a name to God; rather, God, in taking a human nature upon himself, revealed to man and to the angels his ‘manifold wisdom’, teaching us a human name by which we can name Him who remains ineffable. This Christology is certainly apophatic. The wisdom of God is revealed in the paradox of the contraries: the authentic presence of God in the humbleness of our nature; the gift of salvation delivered to men by flesh like our own. In the humanity of Christ, it is God who acts and is revealed: ‘life comes through death … glory through dishonour’. Through the ‘marvel’ of these ‘contraries’, salvation comes to us. What Gregory designates as a ‘union of the contraries’ is certainly not a dialectic synthesis of opposites, something impossible between 90

Gregory of Nyssa, In Canticum canticorum VIII, ed. H. Langerbeck, GNO VI, 254-5. Ibid. 255.17-256.5. 92 Ibid. 381.21. 93 Ibid. 176.14. These realistic expressions of Gregory concerning the concrete human nature of Christ do not allow to consider it on a different way than a real human nature which entails an authentic corporeality. The human nature assumed by the Word is not a mere universal idea of humanity neither a theoretical concept, he is a perfect in his humanity and so true man. 91

M. BRUGAROLAS

94

the human and divine natures; but rather, the ‘admirable union’ through which the Son of God is made man and accomplishes salvation from ‘within’ the human nature.94 In other words, what is impossible to human eyes because they appear to be absurd opposites has become, through the divine economy, the path of salvation. According to Gregory, Christian vocation consists in worthily bearing Christ’s name, namely, in imitating him and living his life. Moreover, since the ‘divine wisdom of the contraries’ is inherent in the life of Christ, it could be said that Christian life also entails taking part in this divine logic of the ‘contraries’. Through this logic, one can understand the ascent of the soul toward God. The Word carries man upon himself and elevates him by means of the mysteries of his own life in an endless ascent and, because the distance between God and the soul is always infinite, it is in the union of the contraries – in the ‘sober drunkenness’, ‘vigilant sleep’, ‘impassible passion’ or ‘luminous shadow’ – where God’s power and wisdom accomplish ‘great wonders’ in man. In this sense, Gregory’s Christology, upon which his entire spiritual and mystical doctrine is based,95 could be described as an ‘oxymoronic Christology’. The coincidentia oppositorum becomes a way of expressing something that goes beyond the possibilities of human language, that is, something ineffable in itself. In Christ, two abysses are truly united and, consequently, in speaking about this mystery, what is reasonable is that which appears paradoxical to human perception. For Gregory, the close unity of the divine and the human in Christ is not absurd; it is rather a mystery of divine love towards man, which establishes a new apophatic language in paradox. It means that the Word, true God and true man, gives through the ‘wonder of contraries’ not only a new meaning but an authentic new life, that of those who bear his very name through baptism. Christ’s mediation Alongside fondness for paradox, one of the characteristics present in the Christologies of Gregory of Nazianzus and Gregory of Nyssa is a profound soteriological sense. This is not surprising since, all in all, the Christological 94

For H. Dörries, this manifold wisdom of God working through the contraries – which he inappropriately calls ‘dialektische Weisheit’ – points out Gregory’s Christian thought in respect to Greek philosophy, see Hermann Dörries, ‘Griechentum und Christentum bei Gregor von Nyssa. Zu H. Langerbecks Edition des Hohelied-Kommentars in der Leidener Gregor Ausgabe’, ThLZ 88 (1963), 569-82, 582. 95 See Lucas F. Mateo-Seco, ‘La cristología del In Canticum Canticorum’, in Hubertus R. Drobner and Christoph Klock (eds), Studien zu Gregor von Nyssa und der Christlichen Spätantike (Leiden, 1990), 173-90, 189.

From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology

95

crisis of the fourth century is, above all, a crisis of soteriology. As B. Daley shows, the Nazianzen and the Nyssen’s real objection against Apollinarius’ portrait of Christ is not simply the absence there of a human soul; it is, rather, the failure to see in Christ the source and type of God’s project of reshaping humanity in God’s image, through the inner communication of divine life to a complete and normal human being.96 Obviously, both authors hold that speaking of Christ equals speaking of the mediator who, by his incarnation, returns humanity to union with God;97 however, this is perhaps an issue – that of the exercise of Christ’s mediation – that receives more importance or nuances in the works of Gregory of Nyssa. Although it could be approached from multiple perspectives – granted that there are many aspects of Gregory of Nyssa’s thinking that come into play –, it is possible that one of the most appropriate ways of dealing with Christ’s mediation consists in paying attention to its eschatological realization. Gregory’s Christology – due to its dynamism and paschal sense – naturally tends towards eschatology and his Christology could, in turn, be very well perceived in the way he speaks of eschaton. This is the context surrounding a passage from In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius in which Gregory, while explaining Christ’s ‘submission’ to the Father, describes the eschatological exercise of Christ’s mediation. At the end of history, Christ will offer all things – especially men, who will enter into a close union to Him – to the Father.98 Christ is the one who leads to unity the entire spiritual creation.99 The Nyssen’s exegesis of 1Cor. 15:28 is based on the exercise of Christ’s mediation: the Son has become ‘participant of our humanity’ and, through Him and in Him, he offers to the Father the obedience of all mankind.100 The one who came down from heaven and went up to heaven is ‘the Mediator between the Father and the disinherited, the One who reconciled the enemies of God to the true and only Godhead’.101 In other words, Christ is the mediator (μεσίτην) of our obedience through his own obedience.102

96 See Brian E. Daley, ‘“Heavenly Man” and “Eternal Christ”: Apollinarius and Gregory of Nyssa on the Personal Identity of the Savior’, JECS 10 (2002), 469-88, 478-9. 97 See Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 31,14, ed. P. Gallay, SC 250, 256; Gregory of Nyssa, De perfection, ed. W. Jaeger, GNO VIII/1, 204; Refutatio confessionis Eunomii 142-4, ed. Wernerus Jaeger, GNO II, 372-4; In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius, ed. J. Kenneth Downing, GNO III/2, 21. 98 See Hubertus Drobner, ‘Die biblische Argumentation Gregors von Nyssa im ersten Buch Contra Eunomium’, in Miguel Brugarolas (ed.), Gregory of Nyssa: Contra Eunomium I. An English Translation with Supporting Studies (Leiden, 2018), 333-5. 99 See Gregory of Nyssa, In Canticum canticorum VIII, ed. H. Langerbeck, GNO VI, 254. 100 See Lucas F. Mateo-Seco, ‘Christology and Soteriology in the Contra Eunomium I’, in M. Brugarolas (ed.), Gregory of Nyssa: Contra Eunomium I (2018), 581-3. 101 Gregory of Nyssa, De perfectione, ed. W. Jaeger, GNO VIII/1, 205; tr. V. Woods Callahan, 116. 102 See Gregory of Nyssa, Contra Eunomium I,193, ed. Wernerus Jaeger, GNO I, 83.6-14.

M. BRUGAROLAS

96

Christ unites humanity to himself and leads it – united to himself – to the Father. It is in himself, in his being God and man, where Christ gives unity to all mankind and submits it to the Father. This is seen in a commentary in which Gregory combines 1Cor. 15:28 with the verses of the prayer for unity in John 17:21-23 and speaks of the eschatological presence of God in and through Christ. For the Nyssen, Paul designates Christ as ‘mediator between God and humankind’ (1Tim. 2:5) because Christ is the one who is in the Father and lives among men. He accomplishes his mediation by returning the humankind to the unity of the Father. According to Gregory, Christ, in the Gospel, ‘clearly shows that, by uniting ourselves in himself who is in the Father, he causes our union with the Father through himself’.103 Union with God – like the submission of all things to the Father – is essentially Christocentric. Gregory puts significant effort in clarifying the equality of Christ with the Father as well as his perfect humanity demanded by his work of mediation, precisely owing to the latter’s radicality: it is in himself where Christ realizes the unity.104 This mediation is not conceived as something transitory, nor is the encounter with Christ conceived as a step that man reaches and then leaves behind in his eternal ascent to God. It is in the same Son where man attains God. In short, the ‘submission’ of which Saint Paul speaks applies to the Lord in his being Firstborn and Mediator. Submission means unity and subjection. Unity, because by uniting oneself to Christ, everything else unites itself to each other and to God; and subjection, because it has to do not with the divinity of the Word, but with the body of the Lord, which is all mankind.105 This explanation of the eschatological consummation of salvation sheds light on the dynamic character of Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology. Sometimes it is denominated transformation Christology or Easter Christology, in the sense that it is all oriented towards the glorification of the entire humanity. And, indeed, it is the case: the divinization of human nature through its assumption by the Logos and its final perfection accomplished in the resurrection is an essential point in the Nyssen’s Christology. However, this transformation, in light of eschatology, is essentially an economic-salvific transformation; the meaning of this transformation is not the absorption of humanity in divinity and the mixing of natures in the monophysite system, but the divinization of Christ’s humanity and, in Christ, of the entire humanity. Gregory’s Christology cannot be explained apart from its soteriological meaning. When he speaks about the divine and the human in Christ, he always alludes to the divine nature – immutable, perfect, full of love – and the human 103

Gregory of Nyssa, In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius, ed. K.J. Downing, GNO III/2, 21. See L.F. Mateo-Seco, ‘Christology and Soteriology’ (2018), 583-4. 105 See Lucas F. Mateo-Seco, ‘La unidad y la gloria. Jn 17,21-23 en el pensamiento de Gregorio de Nisa’, in Juan Chapa (ed.), Signum et testimonium (Pamplona, 2003), 179-200, 195. 104

From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology

97

nature – sinful, weak, separated from life. In the Nyssen, one cannot separate incarnation from divinisation, just as one cannot understand the ‘first fruits’ apart from the ‘whole dough’,106 nor the ‘Good Shepherd’ without the ‘whole sheep’ that are restored upon his shoulders.107 Holy Spirit and Christological Unity Lastly, there is still a need to show how Gregory’s Christology, in its essentially dynamic and paradoxical character, leads to Pneumatology in a very true sense. The paschal transformation of humanity through the economy of the flesh cannot be ultimately understood without considering the intimate bond between the Son and the Holy Spirit both in the immanent Trinity and in the economy of salvation.108 Gregory identifies the glory, which the Father has bestowed on the Son and the Son has given to human beings, with the Holy Spirit.109 He does so in an explicit and theologically suggestive way:110 the Holy Spirit is seen as the glory of Christ and as the bond of unity both between the Divine Persons in the intraTrinitarian life, and between human beings and God. The mutual glorification of the Persons inside the Trinity is a frequently evoked argument in the Cappadocians’ defence of the unity of nature of Father, Son and Holy Spirit: indeed, the assertion of the equality of glory goes hand in hand with the defence of the Trinitarian unity.111 In addition, the concept of glory opens doors for a deeper comprehension of the unity of the Trinity. This is noticeable not only in the fact that the Three Persons are consubstantial in their divinity, but also in their personal communion, in the unity of the Persons. Basil already pointed out this move from ‘substantial unity’ to ‘personal unity’ 106 See Johannes Zachhuber, ‘Phyrama’, in L.F. Mateo-Seco and G. Maspero (eds), The Brill Dictionary (2010), 612-4. 107 See Jean Daniélou, From Glory to Glory. Text from Gregory of Nyssa’s Mystical Writings (New York, 1979), 17-8. 108 See Miguel Brugarolas, ‘Anointing and Kingdom: Some Aspects of Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatology’, SP 67 (2013), 113-9; id., ‘The Holy Spirit as the glory of Christ: Gregory of Nyssa on John 17:22’, in Nicu Dumitrascu (ed.), The Ecumenical Legacy of the Cappadocians (London, 2015), 247-63. 109 See Mariette Canévet, Grégoire de Nysse et l’herméneutique biblique. Étude des rapports entre le langage et la connaissance de Dieu (Paris, 1983), 191. 110 Gregory of Nyssa, In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius, ed. K.J. Downing, GNO III/2, 21.19-22.16; In Canticum canticorum XV, ed. H. Langerbeck, GNO VI, 467.2-17. 111 See Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 42,16, ed. Jean Bernardi, SC 384, 84: ‘We believe in the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, in their common substance and their common glory (ὁμοούσιά τε καὶ ὁμόδοξα): in them, the perfection of baptism is realized by both names and actions’; see Gregory of Nazianzus, Carm I/1 3,8-9, ed. Donald A. Sykes and Claudio Moreschini, Poemata arcana (Oxford, 1997), 10.

98

M. BRUGAROLAS

when he speaks about the communion of glory (κοινωνίαν τῆς δόξης) proper to the Trinity.112 Gregory of Nyssa, in turn, does the same with notable profundity when he describes the Trinity’s unity as ‘the circular movement of glory that revolves through those who are similar’.113 This understanding of the communion of the divine Persons as the mutual gift of the same glory is a core argument in Trinitarian theology. However, what is more important from the perspective of Christological teaching is the particular role of the Spirit as the glory that rests on Christ and on the Word.114 Gregory of Nyssa, commenting on John 17:21-3, identifies the Holy Spirit as the bond of unity: through the gift of the Father’s glory – the Spirit –, Christ is closely united to the Father and, at the same time, through the gift of glory given by Christ to men in the sending of the Spirit, he creates unity between men and between them and God: It is better to set out the divine words of the Gospel themselves: ‘So that all be one. As you Father, are in me and I in you, that they be also one in us’ (John 17:21). Now the bond of this unity is the glory, and no prudent person could oppose the fact that the Spirit is called ‘glory’, if the words of the Lord are considered. For he says: ‘The glory that you gave me I have given to them’ (John 17:22). He gave, in fact, that glory to the disciples, saying to them ‘Receive the Holy Spirit’ (John 20:22). He, having embraced human nature, received this glory that he already possessed forever, from before the world was made. And, since this human nature was glorified by the Spirit, the communication of the glory of the Spirit happens to all who belong to the same nature, beginning with the disciples. That is why he says: ‘And the glory that you gave me, I have given to them, so that they be one like us. I in them and you in me, so that they may be perfect in unity’ (John 17:22-3).115

Here, Gregory of Nyssa refers to the Holy Spirit when he uses the terms ‘glory’ and ‘bond of unity’, considering both the Trinitarian unity and the unity of the disciples with God. The Holy Spirit is the giver of unity, the one who 112 See Basil of Caesarea, De Spiritu Sancto XXVIII,69, ed. Benoît Pruche, SC 17bis, 496. Basil distinguishes the ‘natural glory’ of God, which is like the natural splendour of the sun and corresponds to the common divinity of Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and the ‘glory’ which ‘arises from free choice’ and is ‘familiar’ to God, which is the glory that the Persons of the Trinity give to each other. See ibid. 411; see Ysabel De Andía, ‘La koinônia du Saint-Esprit dans le traité Sur le Saint-Esprit de saint Basile’, Irénikon 77 (2004), 256. 113 His expression here (ὁρᾷς τὴν ἐγκύκλιον τῆς δόξης διὰ τῶν ὁμοίων περιφοράν) indicates the movement of glory among the divine Persons, one circular gift that revolves in the Trinity as though in a circumvolution of glory. See Gregory of Nyssa, Adversus Macedonianos, ed. Fridericus Mueller, GNO III/1, 109.7-15. 114 See Lucas F. Mateo-Seco, ‘El Espíritu Santo en el Adv. Macedonianos de Gregorio de Nisa’, Scripta Theologica 37 (2005), 487; Giulio Maspero, ‘The Fire, the Kingdom and the Glory: The Creator Spirit and the intratrinitarian processions in the Adversus Macedonianos of Gregory of Nyssa’, in Volker H. Drecoll and Margitta Berghaus (eds), Gregory of Nyssa: The Minor Treatises on Trinitarian Theology and Apollinarism (Leiden, 2011), 268. 115 Gregory of Nyssa, In Canticum canticorum XVI, ed. H. Langerbeck, GNO VI, 467.2-17.

From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology

99

carries out the ‘you in me and I in you’ of the Father and the Son described in John 17:21. They are joined together in their own glory, that is, in the Holy Spirit received by the Word from the Father and communicated by the Son to his disciples so that, through Him, they may become perfectly united (cf. John 17:22-3). From the perspective of the Trinitarian economy, Gregory ascribes the union of man with God to the delivery of the Spirit carried out by Christ (cf. Romans 8:9). For the immanent Trinity, the title ‘bond of unity’ of the Holy Spirit refers to his role in the mutual inseparability – inherence – of the divine Persons. This description of the action of the Spirit does not conflict with the Father’s capital position in the Trinity, namely, his being the only source of divine unity and the single origin of the whole Trinity; moreover, it is his proper complement, for the Father is the source of unity and the Holy Spirit is the ‘return to unity’ of the three Persons. The Holy Spirit is the one who leads the unity of the Trinity to its fullness. Gregory, as we can see in the following quotation from the Homily In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius, states that the Holy Spirit is the eternal glory that enfolds the Son,116 the Spirit of the Word that he already had before the existence of the world, the one who has glorified his flesh, and the one who will glorify men.117 ‘The glory that you gave me, I have given to them’ (John 17:22) I maintain in fact that he here calls the Holy Spirit glory, whom he gave to the disciples through the act of breathing, since those who were found divided from each other cannot otherwise be united, unless guided back to the unity of nature by the unity of the Spirit. For, ‘if someone has not the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to him’ (Romans 8:9). But the Spirit is the Glory, as he says in another passage to the Father: ‘Glorify me near you, with the glory that I had near you before the world was’ (John 17:5). For the divine Word, who before the world was has the glory of the Father, in the last days became flesh; and it was necessary that, due to the union to the Word, also the flesh became that which the Word is. And the flesh becomes it in receiving that which the Word had before the world was. And this was the Holy Spirit. There is no other eternal being but the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Therefore, he also says: ‘The glory that you gave me, I have given to them’ (John 17:22), so that by means of it they be united to me and by means of me to You.118

The Holy Spirit is the glory of the Word which proceeds from the Father, is received by the Son and returns to the Father. He is the bond of unity in the Trinity, a unity that expresses the total inseparability of the divine Persons and their mutual inherence. Thus Gregory stresses the eternal relation between the Spirit and the Word, one relation that acquires a new feature in the incarnation. 116 See L.F. Mateo-Seco, ‘Glory’, in L.F. Mateo-Seco and G. Maspero (eds), The Brill Dictionary (2010), 353. 117 See L.F. Mateo-Seco, ‘La unidad y la gloria’ (2003), 196. 118 Gregory of Nyssa, In illud: Tunc et ipse Filius, ed. K.J. Downing, GNO III/2, 21.20-22.16.

100

M. BRUGAROLAS

In the incarnation, the bond of the Spirit and the Word is manifested by the glorification of Christ’s flesh, by Christ’s having in his human nature the same glory that he had from before the beginning of time. Moreover, through the glorification of human nature in Christ, the Spirit becomes the glory given by Christ to men, the glory whereby they are united to Christ and – through Him – to the Father. Thus, the Spirit calls for unity among those who, remaining distinct – for between man and God there is an infinite separation –, have been enabled to participate in the same divine life.119 By identifying the ‘Spirit’ and the ‘glory’, Gregory manages to unite God’s intimate life, his eternal glory, to the salvation of the human race, that is, to the deification of men and the glory that they will give to God now and in eternal life, when they know and adore him as the true God. According to Gregory, the action of the Spirit, who is the eternal glory of God, is what makes this glorification possible.

Conclusion Throughout these pages, some of the most relevant aspects of the Christology of Gregory of Nazianzus and of his namesake of Nyssa have been expounded, especially with regard to its paradoxical description of the mystery of Christ. It has become clear that the Christological reflection they deeply understand and penetratingly expose is basically a reflection on the mystery of salvation. It could be said, therefore, that the Christology of paradox they develop, each with its own style and literary form, is an expression of a soteriological nucleus irreducible to material categories or common parameters of the philosophical language proper to the fourth century. Obviously, neither of them explicitly articulates the relationship of Christ’s natures based on the notion of hypostasis, as the ensuing Christology would do. Nonetheless, one could affirm that the same notion of hypostasis – both in Trinitarian theology and in Christology – arises from and is at the service of the paradox which configures the Christian faith and of which the two Gregories are magnificent exponents. The downside – or, perhaps, the advantage – of these authors’ Christology lies in its not allowing itself to be synthesized into short dogmatic formulas. At other times in the history of Christology, it may be possible to extract a phrase that adequately condenses the core of the Christological mystery. This 119 As C. Scouteris notes: ‘In his prayer for unity Christ stresses his relationship with the Spirit, and the fact that his relationship with the Father can be reproduced by the Spirit, in an analogous way, in the lives of those who follow him’. Constantine Scouteris, ‘The People of God, its unity and its glory: A discussion of John 17.17-24 in the light of patristic thought’, GOTR 30 (1985), 399-420, 419.

From Gregory of Nazianzus to Gregory of Nyssa’s Pneumatological Christology

101

is something that cannot be done in our authors, not because they lack a clear idea about the Christological faith, but because they have not condensed it for us into a phrase that would summarize their entire doctrine. Therefore, isolated extraction of statements – which would easily be partial expressions of a broader Christological truth – from both Gregory of Nazianzus and Gregory of Nyssa could give rise to monophysite, dualistic, or theopaschist interpretations. In order to understand these authors’ contribution, it is necessary to perceive the great unity of their thinking, to wit, to seek a broader vision in which Christology is framed by the essential theological elements of their thought, such as the distinction-without-separation of theologia and oikonomia; God’s transcendence and the divine philanthropy; the intrinsically soteriological value of the incarnation manifested in its transforming dynamism; the inescapable continuity existing between Christology and divinization or between incarnation-resurrection and the transformation of all humanity, as well as the above-highlighted association between Christology and Pneumatology. This is what this article wishes to underline when it employs the title of Pneumatological Christology. Both authors’ Christology is inserted in their Trinitarian doctrine, which is theological and economic at the same time, and would be incomplete – as is the case with the Trinity – without the Holy Spirit. He is the one who performs the transformation of all humanity in Christ. This transformation – whether understood according to the sacramental dynamics of anamnesis-mimesis or according to the logic of glory and of mystical and personal union with the Father in the Son – is a Christological and Pneumatological action that recapitulates the entire man, created in the image of the Image and re-created also in the image of the same Archetype now incarnate and resurrected.

Augustine’s Mixture Christology Andrew HOFER, O.P., Dominican House of Studies, Washington, DC, USA

ABSTRACT Augustine uses mixture terms and images for the Incarnation more broadly than one finds in ep. 137.3.11, the subject of much discussion. After a review of the state of the question of Augustine’s mixture Christology, this essay situates Augustine’s Confessions in the anti-Manichean debate regarding God’s mixing with creation. It then considers Augustine’s preaching on the Word’s marrying humanity in the Virgin Mary’s womb, a favorite mixture image of his. It compares ep. 137.3.11 to the closest and far less known parallel, s. 218C.1, in the context of Augustine’s writing in mixture terms in Book 4 and Book 13 of the De Trinitate. Before concluding, it also examines Leporius’ Libellus emendationis and the North African bishops’ accompanying letter, both signed by Augustine.

Introduction: Status quaestionis After having done major studies of the mixture Christologies of Irenaeus of Lyons and Tertullian, finding both to be indebted to Stoic blending accounts, Anthony Briggman concludes: ‘these mixture Christologies not only agree with later orthodox standards that oppose later mixture Christologies, they substantiate those standards, and paradoxically constitute the very tradition out of which those later standards emerge’.1 Briggman has made an important observation. Sometimes, to use a detested mixture term, ‘confusion’ has occurred in assessing a mixture Christology as heretical or as dependent on a particular philosophy. But not all mixture Christologies are heretical, and not all depend exclusively on a single philosophical school. After a study of the Neoplatonic context of mixture language for the soul-body analogy, John Rist sagaciously avoids trying to pin a Christian concept of this era onto a single philosophical formulation: ‘Fourth-century theologians were not above the coining of neologisms or the recasting of existing technical terminology’.2 1 Anthony Briggman, ‘Tertullian’s Solution for the Christological Union’, in New Narratives for Old: Reading Early Christian Theology using the Historical Method, ed. Anthony Briggman and Ellen Scully, CUA Studies in Early Christianity (Washington, DC, forthcoming), at the end, and ‘Irenaeus’ Christology of Mixture’, JTS n.s. 64 (2013), 516-55. 2 John Rist, ‘Pseudo-Ammonius and the Soul/Body Problem in Some Platonic Texts of Late Antiquity’, AJPh 109.3 (1988), 402-15, 415.

Studia Patristica CXII, 103-125. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

104

A. HOFER

It should be underscored in studies of the wide-ranging mixture Christologies of early Christianity that the term ‘union’ (frequently ἕνωσις in Greek and unio, [ad]unitio, adunatio in Latin) occurs in the range of late antique mixture debates, but not in the Bible for the Incarnation.3 ‘Union’ itself is a kind of mixture term that came to win out over other mixture terms to explicate John 1:14: and the Word was made flesh. Expressions of ‘joining’ and ‘uniting’, so common in reflections on the Incarnation, should be seen within the range of mixture vocabulary.4 But which terms are accepted and which are condemned? For example, Augustine of Hippo makes the verbs misceo and unio synonyms when writing on the Incarnation,5 and expresses hesitancy about what kind of language is best.6 When the Council of Chalcedon (451) rejected the term κρᾶσις (blending) for the Incarnation, it did so in tandem with abhorring σύγχυσις (confusion), which Christian theologians commonly despised.7 Rather than condemning all mixture terminology, Chalcedon set a horizon – without giving detailed reason. Much early Christian thinking on the mystery of the coming together of God and humanity groped through resources of mixture terms and images for the most adequate, or least inappropriate, way of humanly expressing the divinely inexpressible.8 What kind of mixture Christology does Augustine have? Scholars differ on their identifications and expositions of it, usually excluding the common ‘union’ language from consideration. Debates on Augustine’s mixture Christology sometimes revolve around interpretations that argue for, or presuppose, either Stoic or Neoplatonic contexts in understanding ep. 137 (AD 411/2), Augustine’s letter on Christ to the pagan Volusianus.9 Moreover, scholars sometimes 3

For an argument of a gradual scholasticism in Christological exegesis, see my ‘Scripture in the Christological Controversies’, in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation, ed. Paul Blowers and Peter Martens (Oxford, 2019), 455-72. Non-scriptural and philosophical terms are increasingly used to explicate the meaning of John 1:14 and other verses. 4 The various Aristotelian, Stoic, and Neoplatonic discussions of mixtures include, through different terms and meanings about natures or human productions, such as in substance or property: juxtaposition, pile, blending, absorption, union, penetration, confusion, with annihilation or production of something new. Accounts in common speech and stylized rhetoric may also not depend on exact philosophical definitions. 5 E.g., ep. 137.3.11. 6 E.g., trin. 4.20.30. 7 ACO 2.1.2.128-9. Σύγχυσις (confusion), not κρᾶσις, is specifically rejected among the four alpha–privative adverbs of the conciliar definition (ἀσυγχύτως). 8 For an example at the end of the patristic era, see the treatment of John Damascene on mixtures in Richard Cross, ‘Perichoresis, Deification, and Christological Predication in John of Damascus’, MS 62 (2000), 69-124. 9 Harry Wolfson writes of ep. 137.3.11: ‘This passage undoubtedly reflects influences of Aristotle and the Stoics and Alexander [of Aphrodisias]’. See Harry Austryn Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Church Fathers, vol. 1: Faith, Trinity, Incarnation, 3rd ed. rev. (Cambridge, MA, 1970), 399. The only other text from Augustine that Wolfson adduces is trin. 4.20.30. Richard Sorabji does not cite Augustine for his brief treatment of Christian theology at the end of his study (120-2) of his two chapters on interpenetration, first for the Stoics (79-105), and then for Neoplatonists and

Augustine’s Mixture Christology

105

consider how Augustine’s language there might be related to Tertullian’s Stoic mixture terminology. For example, in her magisterial 1985 overview of the early Latin Stoic tradition, Marcia Colish posits that Augustine makes use of the Stoic doctrine of κρᾶσις only once. ‘[I]t is impossible to classify his attitude as either consistent or inconsistent’, writes Colish, ‘given the fact that he makes only one reference to the topic in his entire oeuvre’.10 She cites ep. 137, and calls Augustine ‘virtually the only Latin Christian transmitter’ of this Stoic teaching, briefly comparing his work with Tertullian’s. Colish rightly stresses Augustine’s concern about limits in the soul-body analogy for the Incarnation.11 John T. Newton and Hubertus Drobner accept Ernest Fortin’s argument that ep. 137 arises from Augustine’s engagement with the Neoplatonic tradition.12 For both Newton and Drobner, the period of Augustine’s authoring ep. 137 (411/2) marks a dramatic shift in his thinking.13 Newton writes: ‘Augustine adopts the Neoplatonic doctrine of divine nature and the soul and the doctrine of hypostatic union in his major writings on the Incarnation. Beginning with ep. 137, these doctrines become basic to almost every argument for and interpretation of the union of God and man’.14 More extensively, Drobner has shown the turning point for Augustine’s use of persona in Christology at the time of this letter. He concludes, ‘Persona is in the Christology after 411, therefore for Augustine, practically exclusive a term for the personal unity [Personeinheit] of Christ’.15 Drobner writes that in his Christology Augustine ‘does not use a single time more the verb misceri, as in Letter 137’.16 According to Drobner, Christians (106-22). Sorabji writes: ‘The relation of the two natures of Christ was described by many Christian writers in terms of the Stoic theory of mixture’ (120). Sorabji cites Wolfson to support that statement. See Richard Sorabji, Matter, Space, and Motion: Theories in Antiquity and Their Sequel (London, 1988), 120 n. 106 with Sorabji’s cf. to Henry Chadwick, ‘Origen, Celsus and the Stoa’, JTS n.s. 48 (1947), 34-49. 10 Marcia L. Colish, The Stoic Tradition from Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages, 2 vol., Studies in the History of Christian Thought, vol. 34 and 35 (Leiden, 1985), II 202. 11 Lewis Ayres has more recently contributed an essay on ep. 137 wherein he states accurately that Augustine ‘does not offer a particular model of union as a comprehensible analogy for understanding the two natures of Christ’. See Lewis Ayres, ‘Christology as Contemplative Practice: Understanding the Union of Natures in Augustine’s Letter 137’, in In the Shadow of the Incarnation: Essays on Jesus Christ in the Early Church in Honor of Brian E. Daley, S.J., ed. Peter W. Martens (Notre Dame, 2008), 190-211, 201. 12 Ernest Fortin, ‘Saint Augustin et la doctrine néoplatonicienne de l’âme (Ep. 137, 11)’, in Augustinus Magister 3, Congrès International Augustinien, Paris, 21-24 Septembre 1954 Actes (Paris, 1955), 371-80. For Grillmeier’s complaint that Augustine ‘has not yet seen the real purpose which the body-soul comparison could have served once the Neo-Platonic anthropology has been transformed’, see Aloys Grillmeier, S.J., Christ in Christian Tradition, vol. 1, From the Apostolic age to Chalcedon (451), trans. John Bowden, 2nd rev. ed. (Atlanta, 1975), 411. 13 John T. Newton, ‘The Importance of Augustine’s Use of the Neoplatonic Doctrine of Hypostatic Union for the Development of Christology’, AugStud 2 (1971), 1-16. 14 Ibid. 3. 15 Hubertus Drobner, Person-Exegese und Christologie bei Augustinus: zur Herkunft der Formel Una Persona (Leiden, 1986), 265 (my trans.). 16 Ibid. 252 (my trans.).

106

A. HOFER

Augustine ‘abandons the Neoplatonic terminology’ and, having found a firm expression of unity, he avoids any word that could be misunderstood and cast doubt on the integrity of both natures in their unity.17 Drobner does not directly address s. 218C (s. Guelf. 3), a sermon with a striking use of misceri (and no use of persona) that Edmund Hill dates to about 412. Later in his study, Drobner treats the case of Leporius (AD 418 or perhaps some years later).18 Leporius was a monk in the south of France whose fear of predicating the suffering of Christ to God led to his excommunication there. Leporius, with two companions, fled to North Africa where he received assistance from Augustine and other North African bishops. Drobner cites Aloys Grillmeier’s opinion regarding Leporius’ Libellus emendationis: ‘It is Augustine who speaks in this libellus’.19 While refraining from asserting that Augustine definitively authors the libellus, Drobner says that it ‘reflects Augustine’s theology’ and serves as ‘a practical summary of Augustine’s Christology’.20 Drobner lists nine characteristics of Augustine’s Christology in Leporius’ libellus.21 Reading only Grillmeier and Drobner, both laudatory of Leporius’ Libellus emendationis, would one realize that Leporius uses misceri/mixtura/ commixtum several times? Margaret Miles does not take up the case of this usage in Leporius, nor s. 218C, but she has a much more positive and expansive view of mixture than Grillmeier or Drobner: The enriched sense of mixture in the later Augustine is highly significant; no longer reflecting the classical uneasiness with ‘mixture’, Augustine is free to image the conjunction of God and human in Christ as the highest activity: the unity of Christ is no longer imaged as a ‘watering down’ of the human nature by the God nature, but as a summit, an extreme of achievement and value, a ‘mixture’ in which human nature is immeasurably enriched.22

With this broader approach to Augustine on mixture, Miles seems to wrest Augustine’s Christology free from the philosophical debates of his time. 17

Ibid. 253 (my trans.). Ibid. 265-70. 19 Ibid. 268 n. 141. In the English translation of the second edition, Grillmeier writes, ‘It is Augustine who speaks in this libellus, particularly in the formula gigas geminae substantiae, which was to be repeated so frequently in the Middle Ages’. Grillmeier knows that the formula goes back to Ambrose, who alludes to Ps. 18:6. For a study of Ambrose’s hymn Intende Qui Regis Israel, see Brian P. Dunkle, S.J., Enchantment and Creed in the Hymns of Ambrose of Milan, OECS (Oxford, 2016), 120-9. For a study of Augustine’s reliance on Ambrose, see Brian E. Daley, S.J., ‘The Giant’s Twin Substances: Ambrose and the Christology of Augustine’s Contra sermonem Arianorum’, in Augustine: Presbyter Factus Sum, ed. Joseph T. Lienhard, S.J., Earl C. Muller, S.J., and Roland J. Teske, S.J., Collectanea Augustiniana (New York, 1993), 477-95. 20 H. Drobner, Person-Exegese (1986), 267-9 (my trans.). 21 Ibid. 269. 22 Margaret R. Miles, Augustine on the Body (Eugene, OR, 2009 [reprint of 1979]), 95. 18

Augustine’s Mixture Christology

107

This article will analyze the mixture terms for the Incarnation found in Augustine’s corpus. T.J. van Bavel recognizes some connections between Augustine’s use of miscere and those of the Manichees and of the philosophers.23 More work has been done since van Bavel and could still be done to show how Augustine’s early engagement with the Manichees on Christology influenced his thinking on the Incarnation.24 Thomas Clemmons has recently shown this in his excellent doctoral dissertation and continuing research.25 Also, this essay will examine mixture terms and images beyond what is typically included in scholarly taxonomy of mixtures, but which pertain to late antique debates and definitions of such common words as μίξις and κρᾶσις in Greek or mixtura, mixtio, coniunctio, and copulatio in Latin. Augustine does not use the images of various grains or seeds in a pile, a cutting instrument heated by fire, or a mingling of wine and water to describe the Incarnation. Instead, we will see either his own ideas, or those of his interlocutors, expressed through a variety of other images such as marriage/sexual intercourse, the union of soul and body, light and air, binding, and a mother’s digestion of food and provision of milk for her infant. This article will now proceed in four steps. It first reviews Augustine’s mixture Christology in the Confessions in the context of his anti-Manichean literature. Augustine counters what he finds to be a twofold treatment of the Manichean Christ.26 On one hand, the Manichees have a mixture Christology in their cosmogony of bits of God mingled in matter, and on the other hand 23 In listing the active formulas for the Incarnation, van Bavel’s eighth entry is: ‘Misceri, mixtura, commixtus, permixtus. Saint Augustin l’emploie en 8 endroits entre les années 397-411; mais toujours, sauf 2 fois, il fait quelque réserve à l’égard de ce terme, en ajoutant quodam modo, sive quid aptius dici potest, si tamen non indigne. 3 fois ce sont les manichéens – chez qui ce terme devait être en vogue – qui y donnent lieu; 1 fois la philosophie profane’. See Tarsicius J. van Bavel, O.E.S.A., Recherches sur la Christologie de Saint Augustin: L’humain et le Divin dans le Christ d’après Saint Augustin, Paradosis: Études de littérature et de théologie 10 (Fribourg, 1954), 42. 24 For Grillmeier, Augustine’s anti-Manichean Christology inadequately treats the Incarnation. See A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition (1975), I 411-2. Grillmeier’s use of De fide et symbolo 4.10 makes me think differently from his dissatisfaction that, putatively for Augustine, the mediatory role of the soul ‘almost becomes a protective screen between the Godhead and the body’ (412). The quotation, as translated there, gives the materialistic objection, and Augustine’s question in praise: ‘How much less could the Word of God, who is neither visible nor corporeal, have been polluted by the body of a woman when he assumed human flesh along with a human soul and spirit, within which the majesty of the Word was hidden away from the weakness of the human body?’ Augustine goes on to say that even the soul is not contaminated by animating the body – but only when it lusts after temporal things. To be clear, Augustine does not think that God needs ‘protection’ from a human soul to be in contact with a body. He upholds the mediation of the soul in the Word becoming flesh for a different reason. 25 Thomas Clemmons, ‘The Development of Augustine’s Christology in the Early Anti-Manichaean Works’, Ph.D. diss., University of Notre Dame, 2016. 26 Studies on Manichean Christology include: Majella Franzmann, Jesus in the Manichean Writings (London, 2003); J. Kevin Coyle, Manichaeism and Its Legacy, Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies 69 (Leiden, 2009); and works cited below.

108

A. HOFER

they emphasize that the Savior must be unmixed, not born or contaminated by flesh. Second, following upon Augustine’s marriage metaphor for the act of the Incarnation in the Confessions, this essay considers examples of Augustine’s preaching on the Word’s marrying the flesh in a conjunctio within the Virgin Mary’s womb. Third, it examines mixture terminology in Book 4 of the De Trinitate, ep. 137, s. 218C, and Book 13 of the De Trinitate. By sandwiching ep. 137 and s. 218C between Books 4 and 13, as the letter and the sermon were most likely composed between the Augustine’s authorship of these two books, this study exposits Augustine’s mixture Christology in a way that may mutually illuminate these texts. Fourth, this essay examines Leporius’ Libellus emendationis and the North African bishops’ cover letter, which provides a contrast to the libellus’ mixture terminology. A brief conclusion then summarizes significant points, and poses questions for further research, about the significance of Augustine’s mixture Christology. This essay resists categorizing Augustine’s Incarnational thinking within the categories set by philosophical debates on mixtures, and does not focus on the question of Tertullian’s influence – subjects treated in studies cited above. Rather, the essay explores Augustine’s thinking more on his own terms. In a variety of rhetorical and theological contexts, Augustine chooses mixture terminology and images, developing what he deems best for the occasion, to be at the service of the indescribable mystery of the Word made flesh that he wants people to accept for their salvation. 1. Augustine’s Confessions amidst the Anti-Manichean literature Many times Augustine addresses Manichean mixture language. What is the Manichean thinking about Christ? In a fragment purported to be from Mani to Addas, we read: ‘The Galileans affirm that Christ has two natures but we pour rude laughter on them. For they do not know that the substance of light is not mixed with another matter [ἑτέρᾳ οὐ μίγνυται ὕλῃ] but is pure [ἀκραιφνής], and cannot be united with another substance [ἑνωθῆναι ἑτέρᾳ οὐσίᾳ] even if they seem to be joined [συνῆφθαι]’.27 Jason BeDuhn finds this genuinely Manichean, even if not by Mani, and states the main issue for Manichean soteriology: Jesus does not have to assume some other nature than his original divine one in order to be connected to humanity; but he does need to retain his transcendence from ‘mixture’ 27 I am using the edition of Pauline Allen, Diversorum postchalcedonensium auctorum collectanea I: Eustathii monachi opus, CChr.SG 19 (Turnhout, 1989), 413-47. See the translation by S. Lieu of an earlier edition, given in Manichaean Texts from the Roman Empire, ed. Iain Gardner and Samuel N.C. Lieu (Cambridge, 2004), 174-5. The verbs for mixing, uniting, and joining seem synonymous, which is not uncommon. For the Manichean abhorrence, see what Secundinus writes to Augustine: ‘Stop, I beg you, enclosing Christ in the womb, lest you yourself again be enclosed in the womb. Stop making two natures one [desine duas naturas facere unam]’ (CSEL 25.2, 899; The Manichean Debate, WSA 1/19, trans. Roland Teske, S.J. [Hyde Park, NY, 2006], 361).

Augustine’s Mixture Christology

109

in order to have full liberty to aid humanity. That is the cusp on which Manichaean Christology balances, and it is a very different one than the one that concerns mainstream Christology. For Manichaeans, it is we mortals who have ‘two natures’ – good and evil mixed together – the solution to which is to become as single natured as Jesus was and is.28

In our concern for mixture Christology, we now study what Augustine writes against the Manichees and how that assists us in considering his Confessions. In his early twin treatise, The Practices of the Catholic Church and the Manichees, Augustine ridicules the Manichean cosmogony propounding that members of God are mixed with the material bodies of the world; this will be a common emphasis throughout his anti-Manichean polemic. Augustine recounts how different foods have different amounts of God dwelling in them, according to the Manichees: What are you going to say about the fact that you are forced by this argument to admit that certain plants, all of which you of course want to be purer than meat, receive God from meat, if by their taste one recognizes that God is mingled in them [si sapore deus immixtus agnoscitur]? For even vegetables are tastier when cooked with meat, and we cannot taste the plants on which cattle feed, but we judge them more excellent in their color and most suitable in their taste after they have been converted into the liquid of milk.29

In Augustine’s account of Manichean beliefs, God’s members mixed into plants are judged more suitable for consumption after they have been eaten by cows and converted into their milk. Augustine explains in a later work that the Manichees think that the divine substance is mingled in milk, but do not drink it because their error is inconsistent with itself.30 This emphasis on milk regarding divine mingling seems pertinent to how we should read some imagery in the Confessions. For example, it may shed light on his narration in Book 3 about his distaste in not finding the name of Christ during his teenage reading of Cicero’s philosophy: ‘my tender little heart had drunk in that name, the name of my Savior and your Son, with my mother’s milk, and in my deepest heart I still held on to it’.31 As a baptized Catholic who presumably received the Eucharist, Monica, it seems, provided a place of 28 Jason David Beduhn, ‘The Manichaean Jesus’, Chapter 4 in Alternative Christs, ed. Olav Hammer (Cambridge, 2009), 51-70, 68. For other work by Beduhn on Augustine through a Manichean understanding, see especially Augustine’s Manichaean Dilemma, vol. 1: Conversion and Apostasy, 373–88 C.E. (Philadelphia, 2009) and vol. 2: Making a ‘Catholic’ Self, 388–401 C.E. (Philadelphia, 2013). 29 Mor. 2.16.40 (CSEL 90, 124-5); WSA 1/19, trans. Teske, 87. 30 Haer. 46.11 (CChr.SL 46, 316). 31 Conf. 3.4.8 (CChr.SL 27, 30); The Confessions, WSA 1/1, trans. Maria Boulding, O.S.B. (Hyde Park, NY, 1997), 80. For Augustine on pagan babies being given idolatry with their mother’s milk, see en. Ps. 64.6 (CChr.SL 39, 827-8). For a treatment of mother Wisdom and milk imagery, see Kitty Bouwman, ‘Wisdom Christology in the Works of St. Augustine’, SP 98 (2015), 607-20.

110

A. HOFER

mixture for Augustine as an infant hungry to receive the name of Christ. This reading seems warranted when we consider Augustine’s alimentary emphasis in the Confessions. John David Penniman rightly judges the Confessions to be ‘so brimming with food imagery that the reader is hard-pressed to view Augustine’s enduring interest in the power of nourishment as anything but an extended reaction to his time among the Manichaeans’.32 Augustine’s first account in the Confessions of the Manichean elect’s practice of soteriological eating occurs in that same Book 3. Augustine recounts his joining the Manichees and narrates how ridiculous their understanding of bits of God being mixed in matter is. He writes that even a fig’s mother weeps milky tears (lacrimis lacteis) when plucked, and continues: Then, I was told, if one of the saints ate the fig (plucked, of course, not by any fault on his part but by someone else’s), it would be mingled with his inner organs [misceret visceribus] and then when he belched or groaned in prayer he would spew out angels, or even particles of God.33

Quite different from the Manichean mixture of God trapped and needing release through the bellies of the elect is Augustine’s understanding of how God is mixed with creation. In Book 4, after Augustine recalls his unlawful union with an unnamed woman (conf. 4.2.2), he gives his first detailed description of the Incarnation – in the terms of a most holy and wondrous marriage. In conf. 4.12.19, not only does Augustine have Christ as the bridegroom coming from the virginal womb as a giant; Christ and human nature marry within that virginal womb. Augustine writes of that virginal womb as the place ‘where the human creature, mortal flesh, married him, so that she may not always be mortal [ubi ei nupsit humana creatura, caro mortalis, ne semper mortalis]’.34 Reading this, we should not forget that Augustine understands Manichees to hate marriage, and to prefer non-procreative prostitution.35 Notice also that the human creature is the subject. Augustine alternates between God and creature, or the two together, in the agency of mixture language. In Book 5, Augustine looks back on how his crass Manichean materialism made him think that evil was a bodily substance, and that the Savior had become detached from God, but could not have been really mixed with our human flesh. For Augustine, ‘a nature of this kind could not have been born of the Virgin 32 See John David Penniman, Raised on Christian Milk: Food and the Formation of the Soul in Early Christianity (New Haven, 2017), especially chap. 6, ‘Milk without Growth: Augustine and the Limits of Formation’. For Penniman’s more recent work on mixtures, see John David Penniman, ‘Blended with the Savior: Gregory of Nyssa’s Eucharistic Pharmacology in the Catechetical Oration’, SLA 2.4 (2018), 512-41. 33 Conf. 3.10.18 (CChr.SL 27, 37); WSA 1/1, trans. Boulding, 88-9 (alt.). 34 Conf. 4.12.19 (CChr.SL 27, 50); WSA 1/1, trans. Boulding, 104 (alt.). 35 For one vivid example with mixture imagery of a Manichean imagining that God is imprisoned through procreation, see c. Sec. 21 (CSEL 25.2, 938-9).

Augustine’s Mixture Christology

111

Mary without becoming intermingled with flesh [carni concerneretur]; yet a nature such as I pictured it could not be so intermingled [concerni] without being defiled’.36 He concludes, ‘I was therefore afraid to believe in One who was born in the flesh, lest I should be forced to believe him defiled by the flesh’.37 Accepting Mary as Christ’s virginal mother would have entailed accepting the Savior as a mixture, something repugnant to Manichean sensibilities. In conf. 7, Augustine recounts Nebridius’ argument against the Manichean materialist way of thinking about the luminous God. Augustine belittles the Manichean concept of a fight between God and darkness. He writes in prayer to God: ‘Yet the fighting is alleged to have been so intense that some portion of yourself, a limb perhaps, or an offspring of your very substance, became mixed with hostile powers [misceretur adversis potestatibus] and with the natures of beings not created by you, and was by them so far corrupted and changed for the worse that its beatitude was turned to misery, and it could be rescued and purified only with help’.38 Augustine emphasizes how he finds Manichean soteriology incoherent: ‘this portion is supposed to be the soul, enslaved, defiled, corrupt, and in need of aid from your Word [tuus sermo], which must necessarily be free, pure and unscathed if it is to help, and yet, since it is of the same nature as the soul, must be equally corrupt itself!’39 In this same Book 7, Augustine relates how the books of the Platonists helped him to think rightly about God. He found in their books the teaching of John 1:1-5, 7-11, and 13, but not the Incarnation. In his Neoplatonic quest, Augustine had an ecstatic experience and heard it said, ‘I am the food of the mature; grow then, and you will eat me. You will not change me into yourself like bodily food: you will be changed into me’.40 Later in Book 7, he gives an ascent account in which he perceived God’s invisible reality through created things, but he was too weak to sustain it and ‘could not yet consume [comedere]’.41 Immediately after that we find arguably the most significant use of mixture in his Confessions. Augustine recognizes that he needed the mediator between God and the human race, the man Christ Jesus (1Tim. 2:5), who is also God over all (Rom. 9:5). In conf. 7.18.24, Augustine writes: Nor yet had I embraced him, though he called out, proclaiming, ‘I am the Way and the Truth and the Life’ [John 14:6], and the Food which, though I was not yet strong enough to eat it, he had mingled with our flesh [miscentem carni]; for the Word became 36

O’Donnell notes how this mixture verb is rare, and Augustine would have liked the alliteration of carni concerneretur. O’Donnell also points to c. Faust. 22.31. For his commentary, see James J. O’Donnell, Augustine: Confessions, 3 vol. (Oxford, 1992) and online at www.stoa.org/hippo/. 37 Conf. 5.10.20 (CChr.SL 27, 69); WSA 1/1, trans. Boulding, 129. 38 Conf. 7.2.3 (CChr.SL 27, 93-4); WSA 1/1, trans. Boulding, 160 (alt.). 39 Conf. 7.2.3 (CChr.SL 27, 94); WSA 1/1, trans. Boulding, 160 (alt.). 40 Conf. 7.10.16 (CChr.SL 27, 103-4); WSA 1/1, trans. Boulding, 173. 41 Conf. 7.17.23 (CChr.SL 27, 107).

112

A. HOFER

flesh [John 1:14] so that your Wisdom, through whom you created all things [Col. 1:16], might become the milk [lactesceret] adapted to our infancy.42

When conf. 7.18.24 is read within the context of Augustine’s engagement with the Manichees in earlier writings as well as in conf. 3.10.18, 5.10.20, and 7.2.3, it seems that he has adapted mixture language to press not only against the inadequacy of the Neoplatonists but also against the Manichees.43 Augustine maintains that God who is the Food, who could not be consumed by Augustine, has been mixed with flesh so as to become the milk that Augustine can consume in his infantile condition.44 Augustine’s consideration of the Incarnation in mixture terms seems especially poised to overturn Manichean accounts of the world and salvation so that his readers may likewise enjoy the ‘milk’ of the Incarnation given for God’s humble, faithful children. Many other anti-Manichean texts can help us sort out what Augustine means regarding mixtures and Christ. The selections included below elucidate not only Augustine’s sense of terms, but also those of his Manichean opposition. For example, in his voluminous Contra Faustum, written more or less contemporaneously with the Confessions, Augustine addresses the Manichean bishop he features in the Confessions. In c. Faust. 2, Augustine says: [Y]ou do not locate your false Christ, the son of your false first man, under a star that bears witness to him, but you say that he is imprisoned [colligatum] in all the stars. For you believe that he was mingled [commixtum] with the princes of darkness in that war by which that first man of yours fought against the nation of darkness, with the result that the world was fashioned out of the very princes of darkness who were captured in such a mingling [ut de ipsis principibus tenebrarum tali commixtione captis mundus fabricaretur].45

Augustine paraphrases the Manichean position to make commixtum (mixed together) equivalent with colligatum (imprisoned, bound, tied together). Notice also that in this description of Manichean cosmogony both Christ and the princes of darkness are held captive. Augustine continues to describe Faustus’ position: Hence, these sacrilegious ravings also force you to say that Christ – no longer your savior but someone for you to save when you eat those things and belch – is confined and 42 Conf. 7.18.24 (CChr.SL 27, 108); WSA 1/1, trans. Boulding 178 (alt.). Augustine gives cibus in the accusative, separating it from John 14:6, but it is interesting that he uses it here as a divine title that follows Truth and Life. 43 In his commentary, O’Donnell here astutely refers back to conf. 5.10.20: concerneretur carni. 44 Augustine uses this image of God given through the milk of the Incarnation, or through mother Church, several times, such as in en. Ps. 30(2).9; en. Ps. 33(1).6; en Ps. 109.12; en. Ps. 119.2; en. Ps. 120.12; en. Ps. 131.24; and Jo. ev. tr. 98. But as for miscere in the context of milk for Christians, I know of only conf. 7.18.24, suggestive of Augustine’s attention to miscere used for an anti-Manichean context in the Confessions. 45 C. Faust. 2.5 (CSEL 25.1, 258); Answer to Faustus, A Manichean, WSA 1/20, trans. Roland Teske, S.J. (Hyde Park, NY, 2007), 73.

Augustine’s Mixture Christology

113

imprisoned [confixum et colligatum] not only in heaven and in all the stars but also in the earth and in all the things that are born from it.46

Augustine further describes how the Manichean elect rescue Christ: For, having been misled by such wicked folly, you mislead your Hearers into bringing you food so that by your teeth and bellies you may rescue Christ, who is bound in them [ligato in eis]. For you preach that he is released and set free by such help – though not the whole of him. Rather, you contend that remnants of him, though tiny and foul, remain in excrement, so that they are held bound and entrapped [implexae implicataeque teneantur] again and again in one form of bodily things after another.47

Augustine then exposes the eschatology of Manichean mixture Christology: And if these remnants cannot be released and purified while the world remains in existence, they will be released and purified by that last fire by which the world will be burned up. And yet you say that even then the whole Christ [totum Christum] cannot be set free but that the very last remaining particles of that good and divine nature, which became so filthy that they can in no way be purified, are condemned for eternity, confined in the horrid sphere of darkness.48

The Manichean teaching of ‘the whole Christ’, an expression so important for Augustine’s preaching – especially on the Psalms – taken in a very different sense, seems to Augustine to make some of Christ mixed in matter to be condemned eternally. Also, in c. Faust. 22.40, Augustine more positively pairs the verbs misceo with copulo in description of how the human soul is united with the Word of God. T.J. van Bavel suggests the passage may imply the Incarnation.49 But, arguably, it seems to be about the Word’s mixture with a Christian soul: The reason why it is hidden from strangers whose wife the Church is, but does not pass over in silence whose sister she is, now readily comes to mind. For it is hidden and difficult to understand how the human soul is united or mixed with the Word of God – or whatever better and more appropriate expression can be used [copuletur siue misceatur siue quid melius et aptius dici potest] – since that Word is God and the soul is a creature. In accord with this, Christ and the Church are said to be bridegroom and bride or husband and wife. But by this relationship Christ and all the saints are brothers by divine grace, not by earthly consanguinity, that is, because of their Father, not because of their mother, and this is said in a clearer manner and heard with greater comprehension.50

Augustine stresses here that copulo and misceo, terms that can be used for sexual relations, describe the relationship between Christ and his Church as 46

C. Faust. 2.5 (CSEL 25.1, 258); WSA 1/20, trans. Teske, 74. Ibid. 48 C. Faust. 2.5 (CSEL 25.1, 258-9); WSA 1/20, trans. Teske, 74. 49 T.J. van Bavel writes: ‘Il n’est pas évident qu’il s’agit ici de l’union hypostatique, mais le contexte et surtout la terminologie semblent bien l’insinuer’ (Recherches [1954], 80). 50 C. Faust. 22.40 (CSEL 25.1, 633); WSA 1/20, trans. Teske, 325 (alt.). 47

114

A. HOFER

husband and wife – not as brother and sister.51 The double relationship indicates that Christ is both God (as husband) and man (as brother) to the Church. Frequently, Augustine uses images, in mixture terminology and otherwise, to help his audience to think about the great difference of the soul and even greater difference of God from all material things because of their immateriality. In his work against Mani’s letter called The Foundation, he wants his readers to realize that the soul is more wonderful than any material thing, and that God, who is truth and wisdom itself, is still more wondrous: ‘But why should I speak about the truth and wisdom that surpasses all the powers of the soul, when the nature of the soul itself, which is found to be mutable, does not in any way occupy stretches of space with any mass of its own?’52 Augustine then speaks about parts of bodies, parts of liquids, parts of air, and parts of light. The soul is not divided into parts by extension, but is everywhere present in the body simultaneously, and God is so much more transcendent than the soul.53 Augustine accepts that some Catholics may have a materialist notion of God, but they – unlike the Manichees – can still ‘be nourished with milk in the bosom of the Catholic Church’ and there seek, ask, and knock in order to grow (cf. Matt. 7:7).54 The image of milk returns to nourish Augustine’s faithful readers in understanding. 2. Sermons on the joining of the Word and flesh in marriage As we saw above, in conf. 4.12.19, Augustine uses the image of the Word’s marrying mortal flesh in the virginal womb. For scriptural support, Augustine cites Ps. 18: ‘like a bridegroom proceeding from his bridal chamber, he rejoiced to run now as a giant’. In his Enarrationes in Psalmos and various sermons, we find several examples of this mixture idea of marriage between the Word and human creation in the womb of the Virgin Mary.55 As van Bavel rightly notes for Augustine the Church is a consequence and prolongation of the Word’s marrying human flesh.56 Van Bavel writes, ‘Saint Augustine does not even hesitate to apply the terminology of the hypostatic union to the union of 51 For misceo as a sexual term, see J.N. Adams, The Latin Sexual Vocabulary (London, 1982), 180-1. 52 C. ep. Man. 16 (CSEL 25.1, 213); WSA 1/19, trans. Teske, 245. 53 C. ep. Man. 19 (CSEL 25.1, 216). 54 C. ep. Man. 23 (CSEL 25.1, 220); WSA 1/19, trans. Teske, 250. 55 On Augustine’s references to the Word’s marrying flesh in Mary’s womb, I am helped by T.J. van Bavel, Recherches (1954), 79-85, Geoffrey D. Dunn, ‘The Functions of Mary in the Christmas Homilies of Augustine of Hippo’, SP 44 (2010), 433-46, and James K. Lee, Augustine and the Mystery of the Church (Minneapolis, MN, 2017), 42, 59-62. Also, I am grateful to Aquinas Beale, O.P. 56 T.J. van Bavel, Recherches (1954), 79-85 and 110-8. Augustine’s ecclesiology is a subset of his Christology, as John Paul Kern, O.P., has noted to me.

Augustine’s Mixture Christology

115

Christ and of his Mystical Body; he speaks of unus homo, idem ipse, unus et idem, una persona’.57 In both cases, the union is a marital mixture, for the two have become one flesh (cf. Gen. 2:34, Matt. 19:5, Mark 10:8, Eph. 5:31). Augustine preaches that the original union of man and woman should not be taken merely as sexual union, while exposing his audience’s skepticism: ‘Suppose your soul says to you, already inclined, no doubt, to sneer at what is said, And they shall be two in one flesh (Gen. 2:24) – it was already saying to itself, ‘What is all this? Was God really going to bother about how a man and a woman should be united [misceantur], to the extent of saying they shall be two in one flesh?’58 Augustine wants to elevate his audience, who might use the term misceo for sex, to understand that Gen. 2:24 reveals a great mystery. The same Christ who is God equal with the Father from eternity is now in the flesh, without ceasing to be God, and preached as the whole Christ, head and body, in whom are his members.59 One cannot understand what Augustine means by the Incarnation without seeing similar vocabulary applied to the Church as Christ’s Body, united to Christ the Bridegroom – both with marital mixture terms. Listen to what Augustine preaches on Psalm 18: He has pitched his tent in the sun, and he is like a bridegroom coming forth from his bridal-chamber. You recognize him, don’t you? Like a bridegroom coming out of his marriage-chamber, he leaps up like a giant to run his course with joy; he pitched his tent in the sun. When the Word was made flesh he was like a bridegroom who found himself a bridal-chamber in a virgin’s womb. Once wedded to human nature [naturae coniunctus humanae] he came forth from that purest of all rooms, humbler in mercy than all others, stronger than all in majesty. What is meant by he leaps up like a giant to run his course is that he was born, he grew, he taught, he suffered, he rose, he ascended; he ran his course, he did not tarry on the way. This bridegroom thus pitched his tent, his holy Church, in the sun, that is, in the open, plain to see.60

Other examples demonstrate Augustine’s use scriptural imagery to speak of this marriage between the Word and flesh in the Virgin’s womb. In his first tractate on First John, Augustine preaches in 407: ‘[T]he marriage bed of that 57 T.J. van Bavel, Recherches (1954), 81 (my trans.). See now David Vincent Meconi, S.J., The One Christ: St. Augustine’s Theology of Deification (Washington, DC, 2013). Grillmeier writes on this: ‘Augustine’s teaching on the incarnation is in no way free from the difficult problems of interpretation which confront us elsewhere when we try to discover what he really means’, A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition (1975), I 412. 58 S. 341(augmented).22 = Dolbeau 22 (Vingt-Six Sermons au People d’Afrique, ed. François Dolbeau, 574); WSA 3/11, trans. Edmund Hill, O.P. (Hyde Park, NY, 1997), 300 (alt.). 59 See s. 341.2. 60 En. Ps. 18(2).6 (CChr.SL 38, 109-10); Expositions on the Psalms 1-32, WSA 3/15, trans. Maria Boulding, O.S.B. (Hyde Park, NY, 2000), 209. This exposition, unlike several of the other expositions on the first psalms, was preached. Dating the expositions is ‘fraught with difficulties’. See the Introduction of Michael Fiedrowicz in WSA 3/15, 13-66, 15.

116

A. HOFER

bridegroom was the Virgin’s womb, because in that virginal womb two things were joined [quia in illo utero virginali coniuncti sunt duo], a bridegroom and a bride, the bridegroom being the Word and the bride being flesh’.61 In s. 147A (dated 409-410), he explicitly combines the marrying human flesh with marrying the Church: ‘he has taken to wife, you see, human flesh [accepit enim coniugem, humanam carnem]. His bride-chamber was the virgin’s womb, that’s where he wedded the Church, to fulfill what had previously been foretold: And they shall be two in one flesh’ (Gen. 2:24).62 In s. 188, Augustine says that the Word of God, who is the light of the human race, was ‘joined to human flesh [humanae carni copulatus]’.63 In s. 192, he preaches that the bridegroom comes from his chamber, the virgin’s womb, ‘where the Word of God was mated to the human creature in an inexpressible kind of marriage’ [ubi Verbum Dei creaturae humanae quodam ineffabili conjugio copulatum est]’64. In s. 195, Augustine offers a beautiful exposition: ‘in the virgin’s womb, the divine nature coupled the human nature to itself [natura divina sibi copulavit humanam]; there the Word became flesh for us, so that coming forth from his mother he might dwell among us (John 1:14); and that going ahead to the Father, he might prepare a place for us to dwell in’.65 Clearly, Augustine delights in the mixture image of the Word’s marrying human creation in the virginal womb of Mary.66 3. Between Trin. 4 and 13: ep. 137 and s. 218C In 411-412, Augustine invited the prominent pagan intellectual Volusianus, Melania the Younger’s uncle, to write him with any question (ep. 132). Volusianus replied with questions about Christ that arose from a gathering (ep. 135). The imperial commissioner Marcellinus also wrote Augustine on that occasion (ep. 136). Augustine answers Volusianus in ep. 137, and Marcellus in ep. 138. Here we consider ep. 137.3.11 not only from the perspective of this epistolary exchange, but also from the perspectives of Augustine’s De Trinitate, Books 4 and 13, as it is likely that the Book 4 was written shortly before ep. 137 and Book 13 was written a few years later.67 We also pair ep. 137.3.11 with the 61

Ep. Jo. 1.2 (SC 75, 116); WSA 1/14, trans. Boniface Ramsey (Hyde Park, NY, 2008), 22. S. 147A.2 = s. Denis 12 (MA 1, 52); Sermons, (94A-147A) on the New Testament, WSA 3/4, trans. Edmund Hill, O.P. (Hyde Park, NY, 1992), 452-3. 63 S. 188.2 (PL 38, 1004); Sermons, (184-229Z) on the Liturgical Seasons, WSA 3/6, trans. Edmund Hill, O.P. (Hyde Park, NY, 1993), 31. Hill speculates that the sermon dates from 410 to 420. 64 S. 192.3 (PL 38, 1013); WSA 3/6, trans. Hill, 46. Hill thinks this sermon was preached after 412. 65 S. 195.3 (PL 38, 1019); WSA 3/6, trans. Hill, 58 (alt.). Hill dates this sermon well after 412. 66 For further citations, see T.J. van Bavel, Recherches (1954), 81. 67 Dating the authorship (and revision) of the books of the De Trinitate is a matter of argument. For an argument to extend the completion of the De Trinitate to 426 or 427, see Andrew 62

Augustine’s Mixture Christology

117

most explicit parallel, often neglected in scholarship, s. 218C. We begin with trin. 4. In trin. 4.13.16, Augustine writes: ‘In virtue of his being mixed together into a unity with the Word of God [Dei Verbo ad unitatem commixtus], he said, I have authority to lay down my life and I have authority to take it up again. No one takes it away from me, but I lay it down and I take it up again’ (John 10:18).68 What is the masculine singular subject of commixtus that Edmund Hill translates as ‘he’? Given what Augustine writes in the preceding lines (spiritus mediatoris), the subject seems to be ‘the mediator’. Although one might take this to be two subjects, ‘he’ and ‘the Word of God’, Augustine expresses a different intention. The human mediator has been mixed into unity with the eternal Word, and so Christ speaks in a single voice with his divine authority about his human death. In trin. 4.20.30, the first instance of Augustine’s using persona in Book 4, he writes, ‘So a man was coupled [copulatus] and even in a certain sense mixed together [quodam modo commixtus est homo], with the Word of God to the unity of person [ad unitatem personae], when the Son of God was sent into this world (John 16:28; 3:17) at the fullness of time, made of woman (Gal. 4:4), in order to be also the Son of man for the sake of the sons of men’.69 Augustine imposes a qualification quodam modo, in a certain way, on the term he now repeats, commixtus, which seems bolder for Augustine than copulatus. The pairing of the two verbs might remind us of c. Faust. 22.40. As earlier in Book 4, it is the humanity that is considered to be mixed with the Word, rather than the Word with humanity. Furthermore, as we will see in ep. 137.3.11, Augustine gives a strong formulation of the unitas personae precisely when using a form of the verb miscere. Augustine continues this line of reflection in Book 4 with the observation that the visible manifestations of the Holy Spirit in the dove (at Christ’s baptism) or in the tongues of fire (at Pentecost) did ‘not couple [non copularetur]’ with the Holy Spirit ‘into the unity of his person, as the flesh which the Word became [ad eius personae unitatem sicut caro quod Verbum factum est]’.70 This echoes what he had said in Book 2: ‘[the Spirit] did not join them [the dove, the violent gust, and the fire] to himself and his person unto an everlasting unity and condition [sibique et personae suae in unitatem habitumque coniunxit in aeternum]’.71 The parallel of himself (sibi) and his person (personae suae) is Wilson, ‘The Walls of Carthage and the Dating of Augustine’s De Trinitate’, JTS n.s. 70 (2019), 680-705. 68 Trin. 4.13.16 (CChr.SL 50, 182); The Trinity, WSA 1/5, trans. Edmund Hill (Brooklyn, NY, 1991 [reprint 1997]), 164 (alt.). On page 164, n. 54, Hill writes, ‘The word commixtus, compounded, would be ruled out by Chalcedon’. See n. 7 above. 69 Trin. 4.20.30 (CChr.SL 50, 201); WSA 1/5, trans. Hill, 175 (alt.). 70 Trin. 4.21.30 (CChr.SL 50, 202); WSA 1/5, trans. Hill, 175 (alt.). 71 Trin. 2.6.11 (CChr.SL 50, 94); WSA 1/5, trans. Hill, 104 (alt.).

118

A. HOFER

worthy of note, intimating the expressiveness of what Augustine here means by persona. In writing coniunxit, Augustine now employs the verb conjugere (to join, unite, juxtapose, marry), which will feature more prominently for the union of divinity and humanity in trin. 13. Mixture language helps Augustine to differentiate what happens in the Son’s Incarnation from what does not happen in the multiple missions of the Holy Spirit. Moreover, in Book 4, Augustine seems to have a pattern of writing in mixture terms and using persona with greater precision than in trin. 2.5.9, where persona seems to apply to the human form as giving the voice of the Son. This pattern may clarify the sense of trin. 2.7.12, where Augustine says that the forma serui clung ‘to the unity of the person [ad unitatem personae]’.72 We now turn to ep. 137, and begin with Augustine’s refusal to submit the Incarnation to a materialist way of thinking, as if God had been poured into the flesh.73 After emphasizing that the soul is far different from the body and that God is far different from both soul and body, Augustine writes, ‘But certain people [quidam] demand that an account be given them of how God was thoroughly mixed with the man in order to become the one person of Christ [quomodo Deus homini permixtus sit, ut una fieret persona Christi], though it was necessary that this happen only once’.74 Notice that Augustine frames the entire discussion around how certain people (quidam) demand to know through mixture language how there comes about the ‘one person of Christ’, an interest similar to what we find in trin. 4, but here with greater precision of language. Augustine emphasizes the unity by writing una fieret persona Christi. Either Augustine had additional information about a specific question from certain people that remarkably spurred this development – or he himself framed the question to allow for the una persona Christi formula here. While various attempts have been made to specify the philosophical context, it should be kept in mind that Volusianus’ letter mentions several philosophical schools in a rather eclectic interest: Aristotle, the doubt of the Academy, the dialectician of the Stoa (Zeno), the natural philosophers, and the Epicureans (ep. 135.1). Augustine was not averse to using mixture terms in the Confessions as a protreptic to readers to believe in the Incarnation, as he himself had come to believe. And Augustine uses the mixture terms in ep. 137 to help Volusianus and his friends, familiar with different schools of philosophy, to believe. Is not the De Trinitate, on one level, similarly an extended protreptic to intellectuals who need to learn to believe first? In ep. 137.3.11, Augustine gives the soul-body analogy at some length – from the perspective of the quidam. That he frames this example from what he has been given needs to be stressed. Although Augustine uses the soul-body 72

Trin. 2.7.12 (CChr.SL 50, 96). Ep. 137.2.4. 74 Ep. 137.3.11 (CChr.SL 31B, 264); Letters 100-155, WSA 2/2, trans. Roland Teske, S.J. (Hyde Park, NY, 2003), 218 (alt.). 73

Augustine’s Mixture Christology

119

image in his anti-Manichean polemic, it seems that here he is following what others say. ‘They do so as if they can give an account of something that happens daily, namely’, writes Augustine, ‘of how the soul is mixed with the body in order that there might come about the one person of a human being [quomodo misceatur anima corpori, ut una persona fiat hominis]’.75 Augustine presses this argument of the human being in a particular way: ‘For just as the soul is united to the body in the unity of the person in order that a human being might exist [Nam sicut in unitate personae anima unitur corpori, ut homo sit], so God is united to the man in the unity of the person in order that Christ might exist [ita in unitate personae Deus unitur homini, ut Christus sit]’.76 This sicut/ ita argument puts the two wonders in striking comparison – and Augustine uses the verb unitur for both. By doing so, in the context of the entire ep. 137.3.11, he implies that unitur and miscetur are synonymous. Continuing on, Augustine repeats the anthropological model for the Incarnation, with further references to the models of fluid and the light/air (alluded to in ep. 137.2.4): ‘In the first person there is a mixture (mixtura) of soul and body; in the latter person, then, there is a mixture (mixtura) of God and man, provided that one who hears this abstracts from the usual behavior of bodies in which two fluids are usually mixed together (commisceri) so that neither retains its integrity, though even in bodies light is mixed (misceatur) with air without being corrupted’.77 Augustine continues: ‘The person, therefore, of a man is the mixture [mixtura] of soul and body, but the person of Christ is the mixture [mixtura] of God and man’.78 Again, notice the parallel of the word ‘person’. Augustine certainly understands Christ to be both God and man, but he does not say that Christ is ‘two persons’, even though he is a man. Augustine then provides an asymmetrical distinction that emphasizes the soul as between the Word and the body. ‘For, when the Word of God is thoroughly mixed [permixtum est] with a soul that has a body, he assumes at the same time both a soul and a body. The former event happens every day for the procreation of human beings; the latter happened once for the deliverance of human beings’.79 Augustine goes on, ‘The mixing together [commixtio] of two incorporeal realities ought, nonetheless, to be believed with more ease than that of one incorporeal and one corporeal reality’.80 Augustine, moreover recognizes that the Word is 75 Ep. 137.3.11 (CChr.SL 31B, 264); WSA 2/2, trans. Teske, 218 (alt.). Where he reads misceatur, Teske translates ‘is united’. 76 Ep. 137.3.11 (CChr.SL 31B, 264); WSA 2/2, trans. Teske, 218. 77 Ep. 137.3.11 (CChr.SL 31B, 264); WSA 2/2, trans. Teske, 218 (alt.). Where he reads mixtura, Teske translates ‘union’. 78 Ep. 137.3.11 (CChr.SL 31B, 264-5); WSA 2/2, trans. Teske, 218 (alt.). Where he reads mixtura, Teske translates ‘union’. 79 Ep. 137.3.11 (CChr.SL 31B, 265); WSA 2/2, trans. Teske, 218 (alt.). Where he reads permixtum est, Teske translates ‘is united’. 80 Ep. 137.3.11 (CChr.SL 31B, 265); WSA 2/2, trans. Teske, 218 (alt.). Where he reads commixtio, Teske translates ‘union’.

120

A. HOFER

even more incorporeal than the soul: ‘For, if the soul is not mistaken about its nature, it grasps that it is incorporeal; much more is the Word of God incorporeal, and for this reason the thorough mix [permixtio] of the Word of God and the soul ought to be more believable than that of the soul and the body’.81 Augustine then concludes this reflection: But we experience the latter in ourselves; the former we are commanded to believe in Christ. But if we were commanded to believe each of them as equally beyond our experience, which of these would we more quickly believe? How would we not admit that two incorporeal realities could more easily be mixed [misceri] than one incorporeal and one corporeal one, provided the term ‘mix’ or ‘mixture’ [mixtionis uel mixturae nomen] is not applied to these things in an inappropriate manner [non indigne] on account of our familiarity with corporeal things, which are far different and are known in another way [longe aliter se habentium aliterque notarum]?82

Augustine then moves on in the letter, not to return to forms of miscere. Augustine uses the soul-body analogy several times as a comparison for the Incarnation.83 The closest parallel to ep. 137’s use is s. 218C (s. Guelf. 3), a sermon on the Lord’s Passion, perhaps preached in 412.84 Augustine preaches on what he calls here the mirum commercium: ‘As regards our nature, by which we are human beings, he died from what is ours, not his, since in his own nature by which he is God, he is quite unable to die. But insofar as it is his creation, which he made as God, then he did die from what is his; since he himself also made the flesh in which he died’.85 After urging his people to take pride in Christ crucified, he answers the objection of the sinfully proud who taunt Christians over the idea that they worship ‘a crucified Lord’. He first compares the death of Christ, in which the divinity continues after death, with the normal human death, in which the soul continues after death. In the second way we commonly say, ‘The man has died [mortuus est homo]’ and so in the first cannot we say in the same way ‘God has died [mortuus est deus]’? Augustine then gives his opponents’ objection: ‘But God’, they say, ‘couldn’t be mixed with a man, and with him become one 81

Ep. 137.3.11 (CChr.SL 31B, 265); WSA 2/2, trans. Teske, 218 (alt.). Where he reads permixtio, Teske translates ‘union’. 82 Ep. 137.3.11 (CChr.SL 31B, 265); WSA 2/2, trans. Teske, 218 (alt.). Where he reads misceri, Teske translates ‘is united’. Where he reads mixtionis, Teske translates ‘union’. For a comment on antique aesthetic experience, see Mary Carruthers, The Experience of Beauty in the Middle Ages (Oxford, 2013), 164. 83 Miles gives these examples: ep. 169.8; s. 242; Jo. ev. tr. 78.3; ciu. 10.29.2 and continuing with 10.29.34, etc.; Jo. ev. tr. 19.15 and 47.12; s. 187.3; s. 189.3. See Miles, Augustine on the Body (2009), 158 n. 115. 84 Edmund Hill prefers the date of about 412, and recognizes that some date it to before 410. 85 S. 218C.1 (SC 116, 202); WSA 3/6, trans. Hill, 194-5. Without calling attention to the mixture terminology, van Bavel quotes this sermon for the ‘exchange’ use (T.J. van Bavel, Recherches [1954], 77 n. 5).

Augustine’s Mixture Christology

121

Christ [sed deus, inquiunt, homini misceri non potuit, et cum illo fieri Christus unus]’.86 And then follows his answer: Well, according to that crass and empty way of thinking, and such human opinions, we would suppose it to be much more difficult for spirit to be mixed with flesh than God with man [spiritum carni quam deum homini posse misceri]; and yet no human being would be human unless a human spirit were mixed [misceretur] with a human body. Therefore, when it is a mixture of body and spirit that is more difficult and more wondrous [difficilior mirabiliorque mixtura] than a mixture of spirit and spirit.87 Yet to produce a human being, a human spirit, though it isn’t body, and a human body, though it isn’t spirit, have been mixed together [commixtum est]. So how much easier must it have been for God, who is spirit, in order to produce one Christ from both [ex utroque unus Christus], to be mixed in a spiritual participation [spirituali participatione misceri], not with a body apart from spirit, but with a man who had a spirit?88

In both ep. 137 and in s. 218C, we see that Augustine explicitly borrows the mixture language of others who are wondering about Christ’s unity. The soulbody analogy is to provide an a fortiori argument for those who already hold for the unity of the soul and body – if we were to think in such a materialistic fashion. If they accept this mixture of the immaterial with the material, much more easily should they accept the mixture of the Incarnation, whereby the immaterial God mixes with an immaterial human spirit/soul and body. And yet, Augustine’s point with respect to both ep. 137 and s. 218C is that the wonder of the Incarnation exceeds materialistic thinking. Now we return to the De Trinitate, this time Book 13, where Augustine uses different mixture terms in comparison with Book 4. Although the references in Book 4 have the humanity mixed with divinity in the Incarnation, Augustine uses permixta in Book 13 to speak of divine, eternal things being mixed with human, temporal things. Augustine quotes John 1:1-14 and gives an exegesis that might remind us of his distinction in conf. 7 between what the Neoplatonists perceived and what they did not perceive. Here, though, Augustine follows his distinction in trin. 12 that wisdom pertains to eternal things and knowledge to temporal things.89 He writes of the Gospel of John’s prologue: ‘In what follows eternal things are mentioned thoroughly mixed up [permixta] with temporal things’.90 86

S. 218C.3 (SC 116, 206); WSA 3/6, trans. Hill, 195. Hill omits translating this sentence, which I have supplied: quando igitur et corporis et spiritus quam spiritus et spiritus difficilior mirabiliorque mixtura. 88 S. 218C.3 (SC 116, 206); WSA 3/6, trans. Hill, 195-6 (alt.). Augustine uses the preposition ex in ex utroque unus Christus. Cf. s. 186.1, perhaps delivered in 411 or 412, where Augustine writes with a soul-body analogy and denies confusio: Proinde quod Verbum caro factum est, non Verbum in carnem pereundo cessit; sed caro ad Verbum, ne ipsa periret, accessit ut quemadmodum homo est anima et caro, sic esset Christus Deus et homo. Idem Deus qui homo, et qui Deus idem homo: non confusione naturae, sed unitate personae (PL 38, 999). 89 Trin. 12.12.17 (CChr.SL 50, 371) and 12.14.22 (CChr.SL 50, 375-6). 90 Trin. 13.1.2 (CChr.SL 50A, 381); WSA 1/5, trans. Hill, 343 (alt.). 87

122

A. HOFER

Book 13 also uses the mixture term coniungo precisely in the places where Augustine explains una persona or in unitate personae. In his anti-Manichean literature Augustine uses coniunctio language to describe the anthropological union of the spirit and body – in addition to the union of husband and wife.91 As we saw in trin 2.6.11, Augustine uses the same verb in the perfect active form (coniunxit) to express what does not happen in the Holy Spirit’s sending where the Spirit’s persona is affirmed before the visible form. Forms of coniungo appear in trin. 13.17.22 and 13.19.24. In the former, Augustine emphasizes that since it shows what God has done for man, the Incarnation offends the proud: ‘seeing that human nature could be so joined to God that one person would be made out of two substances [quandoquidem sic Deo coniungi potuit humana natura, ut ex duabus substantiis fieret una persona]’.92 There was no preexistent man to merit the Incarnation: ‘[N]ot even he won the privilege of being joined to the true God in such a unity that with him he would be one person, the Son of God, [ut tanta unitate Deo vero coniunctus una cum illo persona Filius Dei fieret] by any previous merits of his own; how could he, since from the very moment he began to be man he was also God, which is why it said The Word became flesh (John 1:14)?’93 In trin. 13.19.24, Augustine gives an exegesis of John 1:14, explicating how in the Word is the Son of God and in the flesh is the Son of Man, and how ‘each [is] joined together into one person of God and man by an inexpressible abundance of grace [et utrumque simul in unam personam Dei et hominis ineffabili gratiae largitate coniunctum]’.94 Augustine returns to his distinction about wisdom concerning eternal things and knowledge concerning temporal things, and he matches knowledge with grace and wisdom with truth in the one ‘full of grace and truth’ (John 1:14). Among temporal matters, the supreme grace ‘is that man has been joined to God in the unity of a person [quod homo in unitate personae coniunctus est Deo]’.95 Among eternal matters, the supreme truth is attributed to the Word of God. Then Augustine unites the two as the very same (idem ipse), as our knowledge is Christ and our wisdom is the same Christ (idem Christus).96 Through mixture terminology/imagery, Augustine wants very much to see that Christ is one and the same in an ineffable wonder – here in the De Trinitate as well as in ep. 137 and s. 218C. By sandwiching ep. 137 and s. 218C within treatments of Books 4 and 13 of the De Trinitate, we can see better Augustine’s consistency and development of 91

For example, see both uses in c. Faust. 12.21 (CSEL 25.1, 349-50). Trin. 13.17.22 (CChr.SL 50A, 412); WSA 1/5, trans. Hill, 361. Notice the preposition ex in ex duabus substantiis. 93 Trin. 13.17.22 (CChr.SL 50A, 412); WSA 1/5, trans. Hill, 361 (alt.). 94 Trin. 13.19.24 (CChr.SL 50A, 415-6); WSA 1/5, trans. Hill, 363. Note that the una persona is una persona Dei et hominis. 95 Trin. 13.19.24 (CChr.SL 50A, 416); WSA 1/5, trans. Hill, 363 (alt.). 96 Trin. 13.19.24 (CChr.SL 50A, 416). 92

Augustine’s Mixture Christology

123

expressions of the Incarnation. Rather than discarding all mixture language, Augustine is keen at using certain terms because of his audiences and putting them at the service of the mystery that exceeds all our language. Ep. 137 and s. 218C are, in some sense, twin statements with focused uses of miscere, employed because of audience expectations. Even in trin. 4.20.30, Augustine prefers copulatus to commixtus. In Book 13, he can still use permixta to describe how the eternal has entered the temporal in the Incarnation, but the language of coniunctus is preferred in Book 13 over mixtus. The meaning of persona has developed to be a more metaphysical, rather than dramatic/rhetorical, term due in part to Augustine’s thinking through a range of mixture terminology to consider how best to describe the oneness of Christ, who is both God and man. 4. The case of Leporius’ correction Around 418, or perhaps some years later, Aurelius of Carthage, Augustine, Florentius of Hippo Diarryhus, and Secundus of Magarmelita received an errant monk by the name of Leporius, with his two companions Domninus and Bonus. The monks had fled southern Gaul after committing a Christological heresy. Leporius held a two-subject Christology, which scholars sometimes identify with the ‘school of Antioch’. The North African bishops helped Leporius in the profession of faith to such an extent that they, including Augustine, signed it in testimony. Although it does not have the fame of Tertullian’s mixture Christology and of Augustine’s ep. 137, the Libellus emendationis deserves to be much better known as a Latin mixture Christology. The libellus communicates both what mixture Christology is admissible and what is inadmissible – without using common mixture images as soul and body or as bridegroom and bride. Moreover, just as ep. 137 and s. 218C each have mixture language only in one section, namely ep. 137.3.11 and s. 218C.3, the libellus, comprising of twelve chapters, has mixture language only in one section, the end of chap. 3 and beginning of chap. 4. After emphasizing that it is the Word of God that takes up and the humanity (homo) that is taken up, Leporius writes: Still although he is said to be incarnate and mixed [incarnatus dicitur et immixtus], no diminishment of his substance is to be understood. For God knows how to be mixed without having any corruption to himself [sine sui corruption misceri], and nevertheless in truth he is mixed [misceri]. For just as he knows in himself to take up so that nothing grows in him as increase, he knows how to pour himself completely so that nothing occurs to him as loss.97

Leporius denies that ‘God and man are mixed together [commixtum] in such a confusion [tali confusione] of flesh and the Word as if making a body [quasi 97

Lib. emend. 3 (CChr.SL 64, 114-5); my trans.

124

A. HOFER

aliquod corpus effectum]’.98 He continues, ‘We should not believe in such a way that we judge that two natures have been drawn together into one substance in the manner of some kind of thing melted together [conflatili quodam genere duas naturas in unam arbitremur redactas esse substantiam]. For of this kind of mixture together [commixtio] there is a corruption of either part’.99 Emphasizing God’s perduring transcendence in the Incarnation, Leporius states: For God who encloses, is not enclosed, who is penetrating, is not penetrable, who is filling, is not fillable, who is everywhere always complete and everywhere spread, through the infusion of his power has been mercifully mixed with human nature [naturae mixtus est humanae], but human nature has not been mixed with divine nature [non humana natura naturae est mixta diuinae].100

Leporius then concludes that reflection: ‘Therefore, the flesh has accrued benefit in the advance into the Word [Caro igitur profecit in Verbum], but the Word has not accrued benefit in the advance into flesh [non Verbum profecit in carnem]. And nevertheless most truly the Word was made flesh’.101 Brian Daley comments on Leporius’ confession of faith that ‘[t]he initiative, the origin of the movement that saves us, lies wholly with God’.102 For their part, the North African bishops only once refer to Leporius’ mixture language, and they do so in terms of his initial fear. They find that Leporius, before he signed his emendation of faith, had this concern: ‘For, when he refused to admit that God was born of a virgin, that God was crucified and endured other human sufferings, he was afraid that the divinity would be believed to have been changed in the man or corrupted by the thorough mixture with the man [hominis permixtione corrupta]’.103 Leporius thought that a mixture would corrupt or change God in making God the subject of Christ’s sufferings. While the North African bishops state the proper faith in the Incarnation without using the mixture terminology that Leporius uses, it should be kept in mind that Leporius’ concern had already been seen by Augustine many years before – in Manichean thought. For, as Augustine relayed in conf. 7.2.3, the Manichees maintained that the Word ‘must necessarily be free, pure and unscathed if it is to help’. Near the end of his statement of faith, Leporius excludes all heresies, mentioning by name those of Photinus, Arius, Sabellius, Eunomius, Valentinus, Apollinarius, and Mani. While scholars may profitably go to the ‘school of Antioch’ or ‘pre-Nestorianism’ to explain Leporius’ concern, that Christological error should be recognized as an abhorrence of mixture that others, including the Manichees, held when thinking of the divine Savior. 98

Lib. emend. 4 (CChr.SL 64, 115); my trans. Lib. emend. 4 (CChr.SL 64, 115); my trans. 100 Lib. emend. 4 (CChr.SL 64, 115); my trans. 101 Lib. emend. 4 (CChr.SL 64, 115); my trans. 102 Brian E. Daley, S.J., God Visible: Patristic Christology Reconsidered (Oxford, 2018), 157. 103 Lib. emend. 4 (CChr.SL 64, 105); my trans. 99

Augustine’s Mixture Christology

125

Conclusion: Theses and questions Following this review of Augustine’s mixture Christology, some theses can be advanced in summary, and further questions can be raised for future study. 1) This article argues that we should return to the anti-Manichean context of Augustine’s early writings, including the Confessions, and consider his opposition to the Manichean idea of Christ as mixed in things but not as the Savior. How might the view of a primarily anti-Manichean context for Augustine’s earliest mixture Christology help us to avoid relegating ourselves to the categorizations of Aristotelian, Stoic, or Neoplatonic as the only options for understanding his mixture terminology elsewhere? 2) Augustine’s mixture Christology is far broader than what is found in ep. 137, whose one paragraph, ep. 137.3.11, has garnered much scholarly attention. Leaving aside specifically ‘union’ language, mixture terms and images appear in many settings, including the Manichean debate, his preaching audiences, pagan intellectuals, the audiences of the De Trinitate, an errant monk of the south of France and his companions, and Augustine’s confreres in the North African episcopacy. How might this breadth of using mixture terms and images assist in considering continuity and development in how Augustine and his interlocutors think of Christ, such as in the development of persona with metaphysical precision or in the privileging of ‘union’ terminology? 3) In the examples of mixture Christology considered here, Augustine often uses rhetorical techniques to borrow his interlocutors’ vocabulary so as to lead them and others to belief in the Incarnation. His rhetoric is at the service of the Christian mystery, which is beyond what words can adequately express. How might Augustine’s cautious use of mixtures anticipate a reserve expressed at Chalcedon, which paired σύγχυσις and in κρᾶσις condemnation, but still allow space, as Chalcedon itself does implicitly, for a variety of mixture Christology beyond the mixture term of ἕνωσις?104 These summary points and questions may assist in further research, so as to avoid the ‘confusion’ that all mixture expressions for the Incarnation are heretical or all can be explained by identifying a philosophical dependence. Greater attention to Augustine’s mixture terms and images can help us to understand better the advantages – and limitations – of different kinds of mixture Christology for praising the mystery of the Word made flesh.105

104 For caution about the semantic range of ἕνωσις still in 553, see the fourth anathema of Constantinople II. 105 I am grateful to: Anthony Briggman, Miguel Brugarolas Brufau, Douglas Finn, John Baptist Ku, O.P., and Austin G. Murphy, O.S.B. The essay is dedicated to Brian E. Daley, S.J., for his 80th birthday.

A Test Case for Alexandrian Christology: The Impassible Suffering of Christ in Athanasius and Cyril of Alexandria Khaled ANATOLIOS, University of Notre Dame, IN, USA

ABSTRACT In a seminal essay, Richard Norris argued that Cyril’s Christology was predominantly a Christology of linguistic predication, to be distinguished from the ‘compositional’ models of either a ‘Logos-sarx’ or a ‘Logos-anthropos’ framework. However, Norris’ interpretation is ambivalent insofar as he contends both that Cyril habitually used a linguistic predication approach and also that Cyril was not able to give an explicit account of the inner logic of this approach. I argue, to the contrary, that such an explicit account was readily available to Cyril, via Athanasius. Athanasius’ Christology should also be characterized as one of ‘linguistic predication’, rather than as a ‘Logos-sarx’ composition model. Moreover, Athanasius provides three fundamental principles that define the inner logic of this approach: 1) the assertion that the novum of the Incarnation can only be formulated by predicating the human condition directly to the Word; 2) the use of the language of ‘appropriation’ in order to affirm the ontological basis for this predication; 3) the asymmetrical relation between the humanity and the divinity, by which humanity is transformed through its appropriation by the immutable divinity. Moreover, I argue that these three principles are indispensable for grasping the intelligibility of both Athanasius’ and Cyril’s paradoxical statements that the Incarnate Word suffers and does not suffer, or suffers impassibly. While Cyril’s Christology is generally permeated by his application of these three Athanasian principles, I draw attention to one intriguing passage where Cyril seems to go beyond Athanasius’ approach by explaining Christ’s impassible suffering in terms of an inter-Trinitarian dialogue in which the Son speaks forth the suffering of the human condition to the Father.

One of the threads of continuity between the anti-Arian polemic of Athanasius and the anti-Nestorian polemic of Cyril was the affirmation that the salvific suffering of Christ was a manifestation of the power and perfection of his divinity.1 For both Alexandrian bishops, this affirmation was accompanied by the qualification that the suffering of Christ did not compromise the impassibility 1 On the theme of the suffering of Christ as a manifestation of his divinity, see Khaled Anatolios, Athanasius. The Coherence of his Thought, Early Church Monographs (London, New York, 1998), 67-84; Khaled Anatolios, Retrieving Nicaea (Grand Rapids, MI, 2011), 100-7, 121-4. On the commonality of the theme, in both Athanasius and Cyril, that Christ’s work of salvation,

Studia Patristica CXII, 127-137. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

128

K. ANATOLIOS

of his divinity.2 Thus, Jesus Christ both suffered and did not suffer, a paradoxical claim, to be sure, but one that, for both Athanasius and Cyril, lay at the heart of the Christian proclamation of salvation in Christ.3 Then as now, such formulations have been dismissed as simply nonsense.4 In this article, I will including his human suffering, is grounded in his divine power, see Frances Young, ‘A Reconsideration of Alexandrian Christology’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History 22 (1971), 103-14. 2 As typical examples, see, for Athanasius, Orations against the Arians (= c. Ar.) 3:34: ‘Let it be known that in nature the Word himself is impassible, and yet because of that flesh that he put on, these things are said of him, since they are proper to the flesh and the body itself is proper to the Savior. And while he himself, being impassible by nature, remains as he is,not harmed by these affections, but rather obliterating and destroying them, human beings have their passions changed and abolished in the impassible, human beings have their passions changed and abolished in the impassible and themselves become impassible and free from them forever’ (καὶ αὐτὸς μὲν ἀπαθὴς τὴν φύσιν, ὡς ἔστι, διαμένει μὴ βλαπτόμενος ἀπὸ τούτων, ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον ἐξαφανίζων καὶ ἀπολλύων αὐτά. οἱ δὲ ἄνθρωποι ὡς εἰς τὸν ἀπαθῆ μεταβάντων αὐτῶν τῶν παθῶν καὶ ἀπηλειμμένων ἀπαθεῖς καὶ ἐλεύθεροι τούτων λοιπὸν καὶ αὐτοὶ εἰς τοὺς αἰῶνας γίνονται), Athanasius Werke 1.1. Lief. 3, ed. Karin Metzler and Kyriakos Savvidis (Berlin, New York, 2003), 346; English translations are my own, unless otherwise cited. For Cyril, see Scholia on the Incarnation 8: ‘But it is foolish to say that God the Word shared in feeling the sufferings. For the Godhead is impassible and is not in our condition. Yet … when the flesh suffered … he was aware of what was happening within it, and thus as God, even though he did away with the weaknesses of the flesh, still he appropriated those weaknesses of his own body. This is how he is said to have hungered, and to have been tired, and to have suffered for our sake’. ET: John McGuckin, St. Cyril of Alexandria and the Christological Controversy (Crestwood, NY, 2004), 300-1. 3 Paradigmatic instances of the affirmation that Christ both suffered and did not suffer can be found in Athanasius, Ad Epictetum 6: ‘What the humanity of the Word suffered, he attributed to himself, since he was united to the humanity, in order that we might be enabled to participate in the divinity of the Word. It was wonderful, then, that it was he himself who suffered and did not suffer’ (καὶ ἦν παράδοξον, ὅτι αὐτὸς ἦν ὁ πάσχων καὶ μὴ πάσχων), AW 1.1. Lief. 5, ed. Kyriakos Savvidis (Berlin, New York, 2016), 722 For Cyril, see On the Creed 24: ‘He suffered humanly but was seen to be divinely impassible’ (ACO I, 1.4.58.25-6). For treatments of this paradox in Cyril, see G. Joussard, ‘“Impassibilité” du Logos et “Impassibilité” de l’âme humaine chez saint Cyrille d’Alexandrie’, Recherches de Science Religieuse 45 (1957), 209-24; Brian Daley, God Visible (Oxford, 2018), 194-5; J. Warren Smith, ‘“Suffering Impassibly”: Christ’s Passion and Divine Impassibility in Cyril of Alexandria’, Pro Ecclesia 11 (2002), 463-83; John O’Keefe, ‘Impassible Suffering? Divine Passion and Fifth-Century Christology’, Theological Studies 58 (1997), 39-60; Joseph M. Hallman, ‘The Seeds of Fire: Divine Suffering in the Christology of Cyril of Alexandria and Nestorius of Constantinople’, Journal of Early Christian Studies 5 (1997), 369-91; Paul L. Gavrilyuk, The Suffering of the Impassible God: The Dialectics of Patristic Thought (Oxford, 2009); Bernard Meunier, Le Christ de Cyrille d’Alexandrie. L’humanité, le salut, et la question monophysite, Théologie Historique 104 (Paris, 1997), esp. 243-5. 4 Cyril himself acknowledges this criticism: ‘They argue that to have to say that the same one suffers and does not suffer makes it seem like a fairy tale, and indeed verges on the incredible’ (Ἀλλ’ ἐοικέναι φασὶ τερατολογίᾳ, καὶ ἀπονεῦσαι λίαν εἰς τὸ ἀπιθάνως ἔχον τὸ χρῆναι λέγειν τὸν αὐτὸν καὶ παθεῖν καὶ μὴ παθεῖν). For either, as God, he has not suffered at all, or alternatively, if he is said to have suffered, then how can he be God? (J. McGuckin, St. Cyril of Alexandria (2004), 117; Cyrille d’Alexandrie. Deux dialogues christologique, ed. George-Matthieu de Durand, SC 97 [Paris, 1964], 474). The modern theologian Jürgen Moltmann, without mentioning Cyril explicitly, dismisses Patristic language of impassible suffering as simply contradictory:

A Test Case for Alexandrian Christology

129

attempt to retrieve the intelligibility of formulations of the impassible suffering of Christ in Athanasius and Cyril in three stages. First, I will recall the seminal characterization of Cyril’s Christology as a ‘subject-attribute model’, which was proposed by Richard Norris at an earlier iteration of the Oxford Patristics conference, and which I believe still possesses hitherto unrealized potential for discerning the logical framework of Cyril’s Christology.5 Secondly, I will propose that the essential features of the logic of Cyril’s statements about impassible suffering are already clearly present in Athanasius. Thirdly, I will attend to a striking, though neglected, attempt by Cyril to elucidate the mystery of Christ’s impassible suffering in terms of Christ’s inclusion of his and humanity’s suffering within his divine dialogue with the Father. 1. Cyril’s Christology of Linguistic Predication According to Richard Norris Norris’ seminal paper, ‘Christological Models in Cyril of Alexandria’, challenged the hegemony, which is still far too prevalent, of the binary interpretive framework of a ‘Logos-sarx’ Alexandrian Christology over against an Antiochian ‘Logos-anthropos’ model. Norris argued that both alternatives within this binary are ‘compositional’ models that amount to descriptions of the elements that add up to the sum of Christ’s being, whereas Cyril’s habitual way of speaking of the Incarnation was of an altogether different logical type. Rather than offering a model of the inner composition of Christ, Cyril, according to Norris, typically cast his Christological reasoning within what Norris variously calls ‘a quasi-narrative account’,6 ‘a linguistic model’,7 ‘a model of predication’,8 and a ‘subject-attribute model’.9 All of these designations are meant to indicate that Cyril’s primary and almost exclusive concern was with identifying the ‘happening’ of the kenosis, or self-emptying, of Christ into the human condition as having the eternal Word or Son as its subject.10 Norris ‘Christian theology acquired Greek philosophy’s ways of thinking in the Hellenistic world; and since that time most theologians have simultaneously maintained the passion of Christ, God’s Son, and the deity’s essential incapacity for suffering – even though it was at the price of having to talk paradoxically about “the suffering of the God who cannot suffer”. But in doing this they have simply added together Greek philosophy’s “apathy” axiom and the central statements of the gospel. The contradiction remains – and remains unsatisfactory’ (The Trinity and the Kingdom. The Doctrine of God, tr. Margaret Kohl [Minneapolis, 1993], 22). 5 Richard A. Norris, ‘Christological Models in Cyril of Alexandria’, SP 13 (1961), 255-68. 6 Ibid. 258. 7 Ibid. 268. 8 Ibid. 9 Ibid. 261, 265. 10 ‘Thus in the first place it is clear that the word κένωσις – and therefore, of course, the conception of the Incarnation which this word epitomizes for Cyril – is not infrequently used as

130

K. ANATOLIOS

stresses that Cyril’s use of this linguistic Christological model was in itself unoriginal. Aside from being found in the New Testament (primarily in the kenotic hymn of Phil. 2) as well as the Nicene creed, it is a pattern that, says Norris, is ‘not infrequently to be discovered in the writings of Athanasius’.11 According to Norris, what is distinctive about Cyril’s approach, however, is that Cyril does not merely use this pattern but that he is attentive to its formal and logical structure: ‘what interests Cyril, or captures his attention, in this traditional pattern of language is precisely its logical and grammatical shape: its form’.12 Norris concludes his analysis by proposing that there needs to be further consideration of the question of ‘to what extent the Christological tradition on which [Cyril] drew can in fact be construed to depend for its structure and its plausibility on the linguistic habit which Cyril detected in it and erected into a Christological rule’.13 Despite the probity of Norris’s analysis, it labors under a pervasive ambivalence in its characterization of the originality of Cyril’s Christology. On the one hand, Norris contends that Cyril’s originality lies in the fact that he does not only use a certain traditional linguistic pattern in speaking of the Incarnation but rather that he is attentive to precisely the ‘logical and grammatical shape’ of this pattern.14 Yet, Norris himself demonstrates hardly anything more that Cyril’s mere use of this pattern; he does not actually explicate the precise features of the ‘logical and grammatical shape’ which Cyril might have discerned in this pattern. Indeed, he concludes his analysis by intimating that Cyril himself, for all his putative attentiveness to the logical structure of this ‘subject-attribute’ model, did not finally have any clear understanding of this logical structure. Consequently, Norris explains, Cyril was prone to stumbling into ‘physical’ or ‘compositional’ models to speak of the Incarnation, in contradiction to the governing logic to which he was primarily committed: ‘If therefore Cyril had wanted to say what the basis of his scheme was – to talk clearly about it – it a shorthand symbol for the event or situation to which these passages refer… Kenosis, then, means that the Word enters upon conditions of existence and action different from, and inferior to, those which belong to him as he is in himself’ (ibid. 259). 11 Ibid. 261. 12 Ibid. 13 Ibid. 268. 14 ‘By way of summary, then, we can say that one- and probably the most distinctive- of Cyril’s ways of talking about the Incarnation is based quite simply on his apprehension that the orthodox tradition as he knows it always speaks of the Incarnation as the entrance of the divine Word upon a new condition of existence as a man. To this extent his position is entirely unoriginal… What is perhaps not so unoriginal is the fact that what interests Cyril, or captures his attention, in this traditional pattern of language is precisely its logical and grammatical shape: its form. Within this nexus of ideas, he develops his position, not as a series of reflections on the relation of Logos to flesh or of Logos to man, but as a series of attempts to make explicit the implications of a subject-attribute model for understanding what is involved in the self-emptying of the Word’ (ibid. 261).

A Test Case for Alexandrian Christology

131

would have been necessary for him to advert descriptively to the formal characteristics of a normative way of talking, rather than to any physical model. This, however, he was unable to do. For this reason he uses the physical models, and then almost habitually qualifies them by emphasizing their inadequacy’.15 In sum, Norris’ assessment seems to be that Cyril is ‘attentive’ to the logical structure of this ‘subject-attribute’ pattern – and this attentiveness is what makes him original –, but he is ‘unable to talk clearly about it’ or to describe its ‘formal characteristics’. But, apart from questions about the accuracy of Norris’ interpretation of Cyril, it is difficult to see how Norris himself can know that Cyril is attentive to the logical structure of this pattern, if he can’t marshal any evidence of Cyril’s explication of this pattern and doubts whether Cyril himself can provide any such explication. Since its publication in 1975, Norris’ article has often served as a point of departure for treatments of Cyril’s Christology and has also garnered its share of criticism. Most prominently, critics have disagreed that there is in fact a secondary ‘compositional’ model in Cyril’s writing, in tense juxtaposition to his primary subject-attribute model.16 Rather, what appears to be the former is simply an elaboration of the latter. While I agree with this particular criticism, I believe that Norris’ original insight that the logic of Cyril’s Christology is to be found in his linguistic attentiveness to patterns of predication is correct and still capable of bearing hermeneutical fruit. Where I would disagree with Norris is in his denigration of Cyril’s own self-awareness in deploying such attentiveness, as well as in his somewhat contradictory claim that Cyril was original in manifesting this un-self-aware attentiveness. With particular attention to our present topic of the impassible suffering of Christ, I will now argue that we can already find in Athanasius precisely the kind of linguistic attentiveness to Christological predication that Norris finds to be decisive in Cyril’s Christology. Inasmuch as Norris has also been criticized for presenting Cyril’s ‘subjectattribute’ model ‘not as a metaphysical statement about the ontological constitution of Christ, but merely as a linguistic or grammatical tool to govern Christological language’,17 I will try to show in the next section that the intelligibility of both Athanasius’ and Cyril’s statements about Christ’s impassible 15

Ibid. 267. Thus, T. Weinandy argues: ‘Norris is correct in that Cyril did speak of the Incarnation in two different manners, but these do not denote different models. What Norris fails to grasp is that Cyril used two different sets of language or concepts not to articulate two different conceptions of the Incarnation but to state two different trusts about his one conception of the Incarnation’, see Thomas Weinandy, ‘Cyril and the Mystery of the Incarnation’, in Thomas G. Weinandy, OFM, Cap and Daniel A. Keating (eds), The Theology of St. Cyril of Alexandria. A Critical Appreciation (London, New York, 2003), 23-54, 40. Mark Edwards concurs with Weinandy’s criticism in his ‘One Nature of the Word Enfleshed’, Harvard Theological Review 108 (2015), 289-306, 291. 17 Th. Weinandy, ‘Cyril and the Mystery of the Incarnation’ (2003), 47. 16

132

K. ANATOLIOS

suffering depends both on the linguistic regulation of Christological language and the presumption that this linguistic regulation enabled genuine insight into the ontological constitution of Christ.

2. Impassible Suffering in Athanasius’s Christology Speaking optimistically, we can presume that at this point enough justified scorn has been poured on the old distortion that Athanasius ascribed salvific efficacy solely to the Incarnation of Christ and not to his suffering and death.18 So we do not need to detain ourselves now to bestow a few more kicks on that hopefully now quite dead horse. Suffice it to say that it was a constant reiteration of Athanasius’ presentation of the Christian economy that Christ works human salvation by suffering ‘on behalf of all’.19 At the same time, Athanasius was equally insistent and consistent in asserting that the Word is impassible and remained unharmed by his suffering.20 As I have pointed out elsewhere, it would be an oversimplification to say that, according to Athanasius, the humanity of Christ suffered but the Word did not suffer.21 Rather, his position, in the last analysis, is that it is the Word himself who both suffered and did not suffer. While this position is articulated throughout Athanasius’ corpus, it achieves its most condensed form in his late Letter to Epictetus: What the humanity of the Word suffered, he ascribed to himself, since he was united to the humanity, in order that we might be enabled to participate in the divinity of the Word. It was wonderful (παράδοξον), then, that it was he himself who suffered and did not suffer.22

Wonderful, perhaps; paradoxical, surely. But is such a statement at all intelligible? While a full response to this question is beyond the bounds of this article, I would like to offer now three elements of Athanasius’ Christological 18 The classic modern exposition of the view that, in Athanasius’s theology, ‘the doctrine of the Incarnation has almost swallowed up any doctrine of the Atonement’ is presented by R.P.C. Hanson, who understands by ‘atonement’ the conception of ‘Christ’s death as saving’. See Richard P.C. Hanson, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God: The Arian Controversy 318-381 AD (New York, 1988), 450-1. For a refutation of this interpretation, see K. Anatolios, ‘Creation and Salvation in St. Athanasius of Alexandria’, in Matthew Baker, Seraphim Danckaert and Nicholas Marinides (eds), On the Tree of the Cross. Georges Florovsky and the Patristic Doctrine of Atonement (Jordanville, NY, 2016), 59-72. 19 Limiting ourselves to On the Incarnation, we can find clear affirmations of the salvific efficacy of Christ’s suffering and death in Inc. 7, 8, 9, 10, 21, 25, 31, 38. 20 See, for example, Inc. 54; Or. Ar. 3:3, 32, 34, 56; Epistle to Epictetus 6. 21 K. Anatolios, Athanasius. The Coherence of his Thought (1998), 144. 22 ἃ γὰρ τὸ ἀνθρώπινον ἔπασχε τοῦ λόγου, ταῦτα συνὼν αὐτῷ ὁ λόγος εἰς ἑαυτὸν ἀνέφερεν, ἵνα ἡμεῖς τῆς τοῦ λόγου θεότητος μετασχεῖν δυνηθῶμεν. καὶ ἦν παράδοξον, ὅτι αὐτὸς ἦν ὁ πάσχων καὶ μὴ πάσχων, Ad Epictetum 6. AW 1.1, Lief. 5, 722.

A Test Case for Alexandrian Christology

133

logic, which were taken over by Cyril, and which can help explain at least how such statements made sense to these two Alexandrians: 1) First, it was an explicit linguistic rule for Athanasius that the content of the gospel can only be expressed by ascribing human predications to the subject of the Word. It is precisely this pattern of predication which Norris identifies as the foundation and touchstone of the Cyrillian subject-attribute model of Christology. As we noted, Norris concedes that this pattern was itself traditional but claims that Cyril was original in being preoccupied with the logical structure of this pattern, albeit with the qualification that Cyril was not aware of the logical structure of his own preoccupation. In fact, the originality of attending to this subject-attribute model belongs first to Athanasius, who was quite aware of its function in regulating Christological discourse. It was Athanasius who insisted, before Cyril, that the novum of the Incarnation must be identified with precisely the linguistic rule that human predications must be attributed directly to the Word. Before the Incarnation, God’s accompaniment of humanity cannot be linguistically rendered by ascribing human predications of the Word, whereas the content of the event of the Incarnation can only be so rendered. To cite just one example of this linguistic rule, from the third Oration against the Arians, Athanasius says: In former times, [the Word] came to each of the saints and sanctified those who truly received him, but neither when they were born was it said that he had become human, nor when they suffered was it said that he himself suffered. But when he came from Mary, ‘once for all, at the end of the ages for the banishment of sin’ (Heb. 9:26) – since it pleased the Father to send his own son ‘born of a woman, born under the law’ – then it was said that he became a human being by putting on flesh, and in that flesh, he suffered for us, as Peter said, ‘Christ, therefore, having suffered for us in the flesh’ (1Pet. 4:1).23

Now, in itself this linguistic rule does not explain what it means to say that the Word suffered and did not suffer. But it does explain why it is absolutely necessary for Athanasius to say that the Word did suffer, for failure to do so would amount to an evacuation of the content of the Incarnation. 2) The second element of Athanasius’ Christological logic which undergirds his statements about Christ’s impassible suffering effects a transition from the level of linguistic regulation to that of metaphysical and ontological affirmation. This second element is Athanasius’ complex employment of the language 23 Πάλαι μὲν «πρὸς» ἕκαστον τῶν ἁγίων ἐγίνετο καὶ ἡγίαζε μὲν τοὺς γνησίως δεχομένους αὐτόν· οὔτε δὲ γεννωμένων ἐκείνων εἴρηται, ὅτι αὐτὸς γεγένηται ἄνθρωπος, οὔτε πασχόντων ἐκείνων ἐκείνων εἴρηται· πέπονθεν αὐτός. ὅτε δὲ ἐκ Μαρίας ἐπεδήμησεν ἅπαξ «ἐπὶ συντελείᾳ τῶν αἰώνων εἰς ἀθέτησιν ἁμαρτίας» – οὕτω γὰρ εὐδοκήσας ὁ πατὴρ ἔπεμψε «τὸν ἑαυτοῦ υἱὸν γενόμενον ἐκ γυναικός, γενόμενον ὑπὸ νόμον» –, τότε εἴρηται, ὅτι σάρκα προσλαβὼν γεγένηται ἄνθρωπος καὶ ἐν ταύτῃ πέπονθεν ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν, ὡς εἶπεν ὁ Πέτρος· «Χριστοῦ οὖν παθόντος ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν σαρκί». Or.Ar. 3.31. AW 1.1, Lief. 3, 341-2.

134

K. ANATOLIOS

of belonging and appropriation, centered on the adjective ἴδιος.24 In Trinitarian contexts, Athanasius insists that the Word or Son is ἴδιος, or belongs (or is ‘proper to’, as it is often translated) the essence of the Father. 25 In Christological contexts, Athanasius is concerned both to distinguish what is ἴδιος, or proper, to the humanity from what is ἴδιος to the divinity, and also to affirm that the Incarnation brings it about that is what is ἴδιος to the humanity is made proper, or appropriated (the verb used in these context is ἰδιοποιέω), by the Word.26 In Or. 3.35 Athanasius describes the core of Christian faith as involving simultaneously the affirmation of the distinction between what is idios to the humanity of Christ and what is idios to the divinity, along with the confession that both are owned by the single subject of the Word: ‘If we recognize what is proper to each and see and understand that both are activated by one, then we believe rightly (ὀρθῶς πιστεύομεν ) and will never be deceived.’27 This appropriation, then, is the metaphysical and ontological basis for the linguistic rule that human predication can be ascribed to the Word. These human predications can and should be ascribed to the Word because the Word has ‘appropriated’ these predications and made himself the subject to which these predications really belong. 3) The third element which determines the signification of Athanasius’ affirmations of Christ’s impassible suffering is the most crucial for appreciating the intelligibility and non-contradiction of such statements. This is the principle of the asymmetrical relation between Christ’s divinity and humanity. In his earliest work, Against the Greeks-On the Incarnation, this principle seems to be framed within the framework of the Stoic antithesis of the active and the passive.28 In Stoic cosmology, the active principle of the logos informs and governs the passive principle of matter.29 Similarly, in Athanasius’ Christology, the Logos is the active principle while the human flesh is the passive principle; the Word was not ‘enclosed’ (περικεκλεισμένος) or ‘bound’ (συνείχετο) by the body, but rather ‘moved’ (ἐκίνει) it, along with the rest of the universe, through his own ‘activity’ (ἐνέργεια).30 This presupposition of the active domination of 24 On Athanasius use of ἴδιος terminology and its meaning, see K. Anatolios, Athanasius. The Coherence of his Thought (1998), 102-7, 141-6; id., Athanasius, The Early Church Fathers (London, New York, 2004) 66-74; id., ‘“Christ the Power and Wisdom of God”: Biblical Exegesis and Polemical Intertextuality in Athanasius’s Orations against the Arians’, Journal of Early Christian Studies 21 (2013), 503-35. See also Andrew Louth, ‘The Use of the Term IDIOS in Alexandrian Theology from Alexander to Cyril’, SP 19 (1989), 198-202. 25 See, inter alia, Or. Ar. 1.9, 1.16, 1.20, 1.26, 1.29, 1.35, 1.36, 1.58, 2.22, 2.24, 2.32, 2.33, 2.41, 2.49, 2.67, 2.70, 3.16, 3.27, 3.36, 3.56, 3.63, 3.66. 26 See, for example, Or. Ar. 3.31, 32, 34. 27 Or. Ar. 3.35: ἑκάστου γὰρ τὸ ἴδιον γινώσκοντες καὶ ἀμφότερα ἐξ ἑνὸς πραττόμενα βλέποντες καὶ νοοῦντες ὀρθῶς πιστεύομεν καὶ οὔποτε πλανηθησόμεθα. AW 1.1, Lief. 3, 346. 28 See K. Anatolios, Athanasius. The Coherence of his Thought (1998), 76-80. 29 See, for example, Seneca, Epistulae Moralae 65.23 30 Οὐ γὰρ δὴ περικεκλεισμένος ἦν ἐν τῷ σώματι. οὐδὲ ἐν σώματι μὲν ἦν, ἀλλαχόσε δὲ οὐκ ἦν. Οὐδὲ ἐκεῖνο μὲν ἐκίνει, τὰ ὅλα δὲ τῆς τούτου ἐνεργείας καὶ προνοίας κεκένωτο·

A Test Case for Alexandrian Christology

135

the humanity by the divinity determines both the metaphysical content of Athanasius’ model of appropriation and his understanding of the logical relation of subject and predicate within his subject-attribute framework of Christological discourse. With regard to metaphysical content, this premise dictates that the appropriation of the humanity by the Word does not make the Word passive in relation to the humanity, but rather renders the humanity passive to the transformative activity of the Word. With regard to the linguistic-logical relation of subject and predicate within Athanasius’ Christological syntax, this premise dictates that the equivalence of subject and predicate in such Christological statements is uni-directional, going from the direction of the human to the divine but not vice-versa. With regard to the specific question of Christ’s suffering, this means that the Word’s appropriation of human suffering, while altogether genuine, nevertheless brings about not an attenuation of the Word’s impassibility but rather a transformation of human suffering that renders human beings themselves impassible. It is precisely the impassible suffering of the Word, therefore, that creates a pathway from human suffering to human impassibility. The following affirmation of Christ’s impassible suffering manifests Athanasius’ synthesis of the three elements into which I have analyzed his Christological logic: a subject-attribute mode of predication; the use of appropriation language to designate the ontological referent of such predication; and the asymmetrical activity of the divinity in relation to the humanity: Let it be known that in nature the Word himself is impassible, and yet because of that flesh that he put on, these things are said of him (λέγεται περὶ αὐτοῦ ταῦτα), since they are proper (ἴδια) to the flesh and the body itself is proper (ἴδιον) to the Savior. And while he himself, being impassible by nature (ἀπαθὴς τὴν φύσιν), remains as he is, not harmed by these affections, but rather obliterating and destroying them, human beings have their passions changed and abolished in the impassible, and themselves become impassible and free from them forever.31

3. Cyril on the Impassible Suffering of Christ As Norris and many others have pointed out, Cyril considered himself to be a faithful disciple of Athanasius. As I have already noted, Norris also makes a passing acknowledgement that the linguistic structure of Cyril’s model of ἀλλὰ τὸ παραδοξότατον, Λόγος ὤν, οὐ συνείχετο μὲν ὑπό τινος· συνεῖχε δὲ τὰ πάντα μᾶλλον αὐτός, Inc. 17. Sur l’incarnation du verbe, SC 199 (Paris, 1973), 324. 31 Or. Ar. 3.34: ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον γινωσκέτω, ὡς τὴν φύσιν αὐτὸς ὁ λόγος ἀπαθής ἐστι καὶ ὅμως δι’ ἣν ἐνεδύσατο σάρκα λέγεται περὶ αὐτοῦ ταῦτα, ἐπειδὴ τῆς μὲν σαρκὸς ἴδια ταῦτα, τοῦ δὲ σωτῆρος ἴδιον αὐτὸ τὸ σῶμα. καὶ αὐτὸς μὲν ἀπαθὴς τὴν φύσιν, ὡς ἔστι, διαμένει μὴ βλαπτόμενος ἀπὸ τούτων, ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον ἐξαφανίζων καὶ ἀπολλύων αὐτά. οἱ δὲ ἄνθρωποι ὡς εἰς τὸν ἀπαθῆ μεταβάντων αὐτῶν τῶν παθῶν καὶ ἀπηλειμμένων ἀπαθεῖς καὶ ἐλεύθεροι τούτων λοιπὸν καὶ αὐτοὶ εἰς τοὺς αἰῶνας γίνονται. AW 1.1, Lief. 3, 345-6.

136

K. ANATOLIOS

predication is ‘not infrequently found in Athanasius’.32 Norris also identified the importance of the logic of appropriation in Cyril’s Christology, which is a theme that has received more extensive treatment in the later work of John McGuckin, as well as others, though the Athanasian provenance of that motif has not received adequate attention.33 As for the active-passive framework, it is easily discerned to be omnipresent once one starts looking for it. In one terse formulation of it, Cyril declares of the relation between the divinity and humanity of Christ: ‘what is preeminent always conquers’ (νικᾷ δὲ τὸ προὖχον ἀεί).34 But rather than providing further proof texts of Cyril’s employment of Athanasius’ Christological principles, my present intention is to highlight a striking thought experiment by Cyril that synthesizes the Christological inheritance bequeathed to him by Athanasius and also goes beyond it. In his mature work, On the Unity of Christ, Cyril does not apply to Christ the condensed predication that he ‘suffered impassibly’. But he is extensively concerned, throughout this work, to affirm both elements of that predication: that the suffering of Christ must be ascribed to the Logos, and that the Word nevertheless remains impassible. He employs various stratagems to make this paradox intelligible, including offering the analogies of the soul and the body and the iron heated by fire, as well as clarifying that the Word suffers in the flesh and not in the nature of his divinity. All these attempts at elucidation have received scholarly attention.35 However, one explanatory venture has not garnered its fair share of notice. I am referring to a soliloquy that Cyril attributes to the Son by way of explaining how one should understand the extremity of Jesus’ suffering that is expressed by his cry of abandonment, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ (Matt. 27:46). Cyril offers the following explanation: Understand that in becoming human, the Only-Begotten spoke these words as one of us and on behalf of all our nature. It was as if he were saying this: ‘The first human has transgressed. He slipped into disobedience and neglected the commandment he received and was brought to this state of wilfulness by the wiles of the devil; and then it was entirely right that he became subject to corruption and fell under judgment. But you, Lord, have made me a second beginning for all on the earth, and I am called the Second Adam. In me you see the nature of the human being made clean, its faults corrected, made holy and pure. Now give me the good things of your kindness, undo 32

Norris, ‘Christological Models’ (1961), 261. Norris notes that Cyril’s ‘appropriation’ language is intrinsic to his subject-attribute Christological model, and mentions, without further comment, that this ‘image’ is ‘an Athanasian one which is commonplace in Cyril’. Norris, ‘Christological Models’ (1961), 264. John McGuckin also emphasizes the significance of Cyril’s appropriation language but does not allude to its Athanasian background. See J. McGuckin, St. Cyril of Alexandria (2004), 201-7. 34 On the Unity of Christ: St. Cyril of Alexandria, trans. John McGuckin (Crestwood, NY, 1995), 75; SC 368. 35 For an analysis of the various analogies used by Cyril to illustrate his conception of the unity of Christ’s humanity and divinity, see John McGuckin, St. Cyril of Alexandria (2004), 196-207. McGuckin does not deal with the example we are about to treat. 33

A Test Case for Alexandrian Christology

137

the abandonment, rebuke corruption and set a limit on your anger. I have conquered Satan himself who ruled of old, for he found in me absolutely nothing of what was his’. In my opinion this is the sense of the Savior’s words.36

On the face of it, it is not readily apparent why this imagined soliloquy answers the question Cyril poses to himself as to how suffering and abandonment can be ascribed to the Word without compromise to his impassibility. However, the hermeneutical value of identifying the three principles which we have designated as common to the Christological logic of both Athanasius and Cyril is nicely demonstrated by showing how these principles help us to see why Cyril would have thought that this soliloquy shed light on the question at hand. In the first place, Cyril’s model of predication here achieves its logical fulfillment. In imputing this soliloquy to the person of the ‘only-Begotten’, Cyril is not only predicating human attributes to the person of the Word, in a third-person mode. He is dramatizing the salvific significance of such attribution by having the person of the Word present himself, in the first person, as the speaker of the human condition in dialogue with the Father. Such a first-person address of the Incarnate Word is precisely what the Christology of Nestorius cannot admit. Moreover, I would suggest that it is precisely in this intercessory speaking-forth of the human condition that Cyril locates the impassibility of the Word. The only-begotten is impassible in his forsakenness precisely because he takes up this forsakenness within his intercessory communion with the Father. But, then, secondly, this soliloquy also dramatizes the appropriation of the human condition by the Word, which is what enables him to speak simultaneously as the only-Begotten and the Second Adam; the human condition is thus appropriated to the ‘I’ of the Word. And, thirdly, this appropriation is not passive but active and transformative: the abandonment of the only-Begotten is not a divine undergoing of abandonment but a divine undoing of the human abandonment appropriated by the Word. In responding to the question of the Word’s impassible suffering by constructing this soliloquy in which the Logos impassibly speaks forth human suffering within his dialogue with the Father, Cyril thus synthesizes the fundamental Christological logic bequeathed to him by Athanasius and surpasses it by integrating it within an explicitly Trinitarian framework. 36 Ἐννόει γὰρ ὅτι γεγονὼς ἄνθρωπος ὁ Μονογενής, ὡς εἷς ἐξ ἡμῶν καὶ ὑπὲρ ἁπάσης τῆς φύσεως τὰς τοιαύτας ἠφίει φωνάς, μονονουχὶ λέγων· Πεπλημμέληκεν ὁ πρῶτος ἄνθρωπος, παρώλισθεν εἰς παρακοήν, κατημέλησε τῆς δοθείσης ἐντολῆς, τοῖς τοῦ δράκοντος φενακισμοῖς εἰς τὸ ἐξήνιον συνηρπάζετο· ταύτῃτοι, καὶ μάλα εἰκότως, ὑπενήνεκται τῇ φθορᾷ καὶ γέγονεν ὑπὸ δίκην. Ἀλλ’ ἐμὲ δευτέραν ἐφύτευσας ἀρχὴν τοῖς ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς, κεχρημάτικα δὲ δεύτερος Ἀδάμ. Ἐν ἐμοὶ κεκαθαρμένην ὁρᾷς τὴν ἀνθρώπου φύσιν, κατορθώσασαν τὸ ἀπλημμελές, ἁγίαν καὶ πάναγνον. Δίδου λοιπὸν τὰ ἐξ ἡμερότητος ἀγαθά, λύε τὴν ἐγκατάλειψιν, ἐπιτίμησον τῇ φθορᾷ, καὶ πέρας ἐχέτω τὰ ἐξ ὀργῆς. Νενίκηκα καὶ αὐτὸν τὸν πάλαι κρατήσαντα Σατανᾶν. Εὗρε γὰρ ἐν ἐμοὶ τῶν ἑαυτοῦ παντελῶς οὐδέν. Τοιοῦτος μὲν οὖν, ὥς γε οἶμαι, τῶν τοῦ Σωτῆρος λόγων ὁ νοῦς. SC 97, 444; ET: J. McGuckin, 105-6.

The Theology of the Union of Natures in Christ in Gregory of Nyssa and Cyril: A Comparison in Light of the Second Council of Constantinople (553) Ilaria VIGORELLI, Pontifical University of the Holy Cross, Rome, Italy

ABSTRACT The Second Council of Constantinople (553) denies that it is possible to predicate the union of the Word of God with humanity as kata schesin, instead asserting that it must be predicated as kath’ypostasin (ACO IV 1, 240-4; DS 424). As is well-known, Cyril first used the expression ἕνωσις καθ’ὑπόστασιν as a Christological formula in his Second Letter to Nestorius in order to say that ‘the flesh animated by a rational soul’ is united to the hypostasis of the Son (ACO I 1, 1, 26-7; DS 250). It seems interesting to compare Cyril’s formula of the union with the expressions about the union that are used by Gregory of Nyssa, to verify if and in what way some previews of the difference between kata schesin predication and kath’ypostasin predication can be found in the Cappadocian father. This article will highlight how Gregory of Nyssa developed a theology of union in the fourth century, both in the Trinitarian sphere and in the Christological sphere, rooted in a very fine development of the philosophical category of relation (schesis), and how, in the resulting apophatism, he was able to overcome the limitations of Aristotelian vocabulary and ontology to explain the novelty of the Apostolic faith, valuing the differences between theologia and oikonomia, and therefore, how he knew to distinguish the attributions to the Son under the condition of His historical mission for the salvation of humanity.

1. Introduction It is well-known that the fourteen anathemas of the Second Council of Constantinople are mostly derived from the Second Edict of Emperor Justinian (551), pronounced against the ‘Three Chapters’ (DS 424-5).1 Justinian and the conciliar text use formulations that are very close to those of Cyril in his Twelve Anathemas against Nestorius, which summarized the contrast of the bishop of Alexandria against the Antiochian Theology of the two natures of Christ.2 1

Eduard Schwartz, Drei dogmatische Schriften Iustinians (Milan, 1973), 82-127. Justinian wanted to come closer to the Monophysites, and so he used formulae that are typically traceable to the controversy against Nestorius and the Nestorians. See Acta Conciliorum 2

Studia Patristica CXII, 139-157. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

140

I. VIGORELLI

Through an analysis of the citations of Gregory which are found in the work of Justinian, Giulio Maspero has shown how, from the perspective of the Second Council of Constantinople (553), it is clear that the emperor used Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology to correctly interpret Cyril’s letters.3 In fact, the Christology of the Council used the expression ‘kata monēn tēn theōrian diaresthai’,4 to describe how although the distinction of the two natures in Christ is real, one can only make this distinction through reason. This is because the two natures are manifested in the salvific economy according to the specific properties of each, but they are manifested in such a way that they are inseparable in the living unity of Christ (ἕνωσις καθ’ὑπόστασιν), that is, in the uniqueness of His filiation to the Father (or according to the proper schesis of the Son). The Council thus shows that it had fully assumed the doctrine of the communicatio idiomatum developed by Gregory of Nyssa in his Ad Teophilum,5 as well as the doctrine of the schesis, which was initially developed by Basil and fully by Gregory in Contra Eunomium. If one follows a diachronic perspective of the development of Christology and soteriology, one can see how the debates of the Cappadocian Fathers against Apollinaris and Eunomius take on greater relevance when they are projected up to the sixth century: in Gregory’s theology one can recognize, well before the definitions of the Council of Chalcedon in 451, the fundamental traits of the dogmatic question about the relation between human and divine in Christ – a theme that even later would remain unresolved, both in the Arian sphere and the Apollinarian sphere, and that this reached as far as Justinian, after the polemic between the Alexandrians and the Antiochians. Here, we shall analyse the formulation of Cyril’s ἕνωσις καθ’ὑπόστασιν and then compare it with the use of Gregory’s ἕνωσις, in order to be able to verify how ‘unity’ and ‘relation’ differ or are invoked in the theology of both. Thus, the understanding of the relevance of the epistemological and theological value of Justinian’s inclusion of the theoria mone distinction may be even clearer, because it seems to recall the relationship between theologia and oikonomia – or between the divine immanence and the salvific missions – outlined, as we shall see, by Gregory.

Oecomenicorum (ACO), ed. Eduard Schwartz, Tomus I, volumen 1, pars 1,40-2 (Berlin, Leipzig, 1972). 3 Giulio Maspero, ‘La cristología de Gregorio de Nisa desde la perspectiva del II Concilio de Costantinopla’, Scripta Theologica 36 (2004), 359-410. 4 See Edictum rectae fidei, in Schwartz (1973) 142, 25. 5 See Theoph., GNO III/1, 128.

The Theology of the Union of Natures in Christ in Gregory of Nyssa and Cyril

141

2. ἕνωσις and συνάφεια: The Debate between Cyril and Nestorius Cyril first made use of the expression ἕνωσις καθ’ὑπόστασιν in his Second Letter to Nestorius – dated at the beginning of 430 – to say that God is in fact man insofar as the divine hypostasis of the Son is united to the ‘flesh animated by a rational soul’: We do not say that the nature of the Word was altered (μεταποιηθεῖσα), when He became flesh. Neither do we say that the Word was changed into a complete man of soul and body. We say rather that the Word by having united to Himself hypostatically (ἑνώσας ὁ Λόγος ἑαυτῷ καθ’ ὑπόστασιν) by flesh animated by a rational soul, inexplicably and incomprehensibly became man. He has been called the Son of man, not according to desire alone or goodwill, nor by the assumption (ὡς ἐν προσλήψει) of a person only. We say that, although the natures are different which were brought together to a true unity, there is one Christ and Son from both. The differences of the natures are not destroyed through the union, but rather the divinity and humanity formed for us one Lord Jesus Christ and one Son through the incomprehensible and ineffable combination to a unity.6

As it is known, the controversy over the union, which divided the Alexandrians and the Antiochians, had Cyril of Alexandria as the staunchest opponent of Nestorius. Cyril excluded the use of the terminology of συνάφεια from his Christology. This was readily used by Nestorius and chosen by the Antiochians to refer to the union of natures. Nestorius actually responds to the programmatically doctrinal letter of Cyril with an equally programmatic letter.7 In it, he claims to have approved ‘the distinction of the natures according to the definition (κατὰ τὸν λόγον) of humanity and divinity’ and to confess ‘the conjunction (συνάφειαν) of them into one person’, but denies ‘a second begetting from a woman’ because ‘the divinity does not admit of suffering’.8 Beyond the terminological question about the joining of natures in Christ, it seems that Nestorius did not manage to reconcile Christ’s way of being man according to His human nature (or by begetting from a woman) and His unique 6 Οὐ γάρ φαμεν ὅτι ἡ τοῦ Λόγου φύσις μεταποιηθεῖσα γέγονε σάρξ, ἀλλ’ οὐδὲ ὅτι εἰς ὅλον ἄνθρωπον μετεβλήθη τὸν ἐκ ψυχῆς καὶ σώματος, ἐκεῖνο δὲ μᾶλλον ὅτι σάρκα ἐψυχωμένην ψυχῇ λογικῇ ἑνώσας ὁ Λόγος ἑαυτῷ καθ’ ὑπόστασιν ἀφράστως τε καὶ ἀπερινοήτως γέγονεν ἄνθρωπος καὶ κεχρημάτικεν ὑιὸς ἀνθρώπου, οὐ κατὰ θέλησιν μόνην ἢ εὐδοκίαν, ἀλλ’οὐδὲ ὠς ἐν προσλήψει προσώπου μόνου, καὶ ὅτι διάφοροι μὲν αἱ πρὸς ἑνότητα τὴν ἀληθινὴν συνενεχθεῖσαι φύσεις, εἷς δὲ ἐξ ἀμφοῖν Χριστὸς καὶ υἱός, οὐχ ὡς τῆς τῶν φύσεων διαφορᾶς ἀνηιρημένης διὰ τήν ἕνωσιν, ἀποτελεσασῶν δὲ μᾶλλον ἡμῖν τὸν ἕνα κύριον καὶ Χριστὸν καὶ ὑιὸν θεότητος τε καὶ ἀνθρωπότετος διὰ τῆς ἀφράστου καὶ ἀπορρήτου πρὸς ἑνότητα συνδρομῆς. Cyrilli Epistula Altera ad Nestorium, ACO I 1, 1, 25-8, here 26-7. For the English translation, see The Fathers of the Church: a New Translation, FCNT 76, ed. John I. McEnerney (Washington, 2007), 39. The quotation was borrowed by the Council of Ephesus. See DS 250. 7 Nestorius ad Cyrillum, ACO I 1, 1, 29-32. 8 Nestorius ad Cyrillum, ACO I 1, 1, 30, par. 6 (FCNT 76, 45).

142

I. VIGORELLI

way of taking on human nature: that is, by divine will (according to free choice) and not according to the conditions of natural necessity that have involved humanity post peccatum.9 Indeed, Nestorius uses a terminology of the natural union according to which the terms that are joined are necessarily multiple and homogeneous by virtue of their joining (συνάφεια);10 this is also why it was difficult for Basil of Caesarea to find a univocal terminology to explain how the natural joining in the Trinitarian relation (τὴν φυσικὴν συνάφειαν) was preserved without multiplying the substances.11 In order to protect the impassibility of the divinity from contamination with what is contingent, as would happen because of the union with human nature, Nestorius supposes that the joining carried out by God should not be subject to birth from a woman. He actually writes that ‘this is as if the properties belonging to God the Word according to nature were destroyed by the union with his temple’.12 Therefore, in expressing the συνάφεια, Nestorius wants to avoid impoverishing the divine nature, since this is theologically inadmissible. In his Christology, on the other hand, the joining of the natures in the only prosopon is still expressed in a vague and ill-defined way, which is subject to great misunderstandings. To emphasize the persistent otherness in Christ between divinity and flesh, Nestorius commented on the passage of Matt. 22:42-4, which reprises Psalm 109:1, where Jesus questions the disciples about who Christ is, and asks: For he says, ‘What do you think of the Christ? Whose son is he?’ They say to him, ‘David’s’. Jesus answered and said to them, ‘How then does David in the Spirit call him Lord saying, ‘The Lord said to my Lord, sit at my right hand’, ‘as he is the Son of David by all means according to the flesh, but his Lord according to his divinity. Therefore, it is right and worthy of the Gospel traditions to confess that the body is the temple of the Son’s divinity and a temple joined (συνάφειαν) to the divinity according to a certain sublime and divine union, and that his divine nature makes his own (οἰκειοῦσθαι) the things of his body.13 9 In this sense, as we shall see, Gregory of Nyssa had already gone into great depth in his contemplation of the mystery of Christ, thanks to the difference between theologia and oikonomia. 10 Simonetti says that this terminology is far weaker than that of Cyril’s ἕνωσις. See Manlio Simonetti (ed.), Il Cristo. Testi teologici e spirituali in lingua greca dal IV al VII secolo (Milan, 1986), 607, n. 12. 11 Thus, Basil writes: Ἡμεῖς δὲ κατὰ μὲν τὴν τῶν αἰτίων πρὸς τὰ ἐξ αὐτῶν σχέσιν, προτετάχθαι τοῦ Υἱοῦ τὸν Πατέρα φαμέν· κατὰ δὲ τὴν τῆς φύσεως διαφορὰν οὐκέτι, οὐδὲ κατὰ τὴν τοῦ χρόνου ὑπεροχήν· ἢ οὕτω γε καὶ αὐτὸ, τὸ Πατέρα εἶναι τὸν Θεὸν ἀθετήσομεν, τῆς κατὰ τὴν οὐσίαν ἀλλοτριότητος τὴν φυσικὴν συνάφειαν ἀθετούσης. Adversus Eunomium I 20,36-41 (SC 299, 246). ‘We say that the Father precedes the Son because of the relation of causes insofar as He is from Him (κατὰ μὲν τὴν τῶν αἰτίων πρὸς τὰ ἐξ αὐτῶν σχέσιν), but not according to the difference of natures, or for a priority in time; thus, we would deny that God is Father per se, since the differentiation by substance (τῆς κατὰ τὴν οὐσίαν ἀλλοτριότητος) excludes natural joining (τὴν φυσικὴν συνάφειαν). Our translation. 12 Nestorius ad Cyrillum, ACO I 1, 1, 30 par. 6 (FCNT 76, 45). 13 Nestorius ad Cyrillum, ACO I 1, 1, 31 par. 7 (FCNT 76, 46-7).

The Theology of the Union of Natures in Christ in Gregory of Nyssa and Cyril

143

Nestorius does not speak of humanity but of a ‘temple’, which thus makes the acceptance of the communicatio idiomatum that was affirmed by Cyril, merely apparent; Nestorius actually disavows it immediately afterwards: But in the name of this relationship (οἰκειότητος) to attribute also to his divinity the properties of the united flesh, I mean birth, suffering, and death, is, my brother, the act of a mind truly led astray like the pagans or diseased like the minds of that mad Apollinaris, Arius, and the other heresies, but rather more grievously than they. For it is necessary that such as are dragged into error by the word relationship (οἰκειότητος), make the Word God partake (κοινωνόν) of the nourishment of milk through the relationship, and have share (μέτοχον) in growing, little by little, and of fear at the time of his Passion, and be in need of angelic assistance. And I pass over in silence that circumcision, sacrificing, sweat, hunger, and thirst, which happened to his body on account of us, are worshipfully (προσκυνητά) united to the divinity, and falsely, there is a cause for just condemnation against us as slanderers.14

The terminology of participation (οἰκειότητος, κοινωνόν, μέτοχον) would emphasize the real belonging of the Logos to human nature, and this is precisely what Nestorius does not want to affirm because of the attributes that imply mutability and that, if they are attributed to the Logos according to the divine essence, cannot be consistent with God;15 hence, the reference to Arius, who considers the Word a creature, and to Apollinaris. To conclude these brief notes on the controversy with Nestorius, let us consider Cyril’s answer regarding the use of ἕνωσις instead of συνάφεια, as described in one of his twelve anathemas, which would later be borrowed by Justinian. If one divides the hypostases (διαιρεῖ τὰς ὑποστάσεις) of the one Christ after the union (μετὰ τὴν ἕνωσιν), and unites them only by a conjunction (μόνῃ συνάπτων αὐτὰς συναφείᾳ) of dignity or authority or power and not by coming together in a natural union (συνόδῳ τῇ καθ’ἕνωσιν φυσικήν), let him be anathema.16

This is the third anathema, which is among the most strongly anti-Nestorian ones. With it, Cyril condemns the terminology of συνάφεια because of the lack of a confession of Christ’s participation in real humanity, which Nestorius denies with this choice of words. It seems that this is why Cyril uses the expression καθ’ἕνωσιν φυσικήν, with the intention of describing the true and concrete human nature with all its properties and passibility.17 14

Nestorius ad Cyrillum, ACO I 1, 1, 29-32, here 31 par. 7 (FCNT 76, 47, with own alterations). The theme of the immutability of God cannot be resolved if the relationship between the divine immanence and the salvific economy is not understood and, therefore, if the theology of the hypostasis in the dynamic of the salvific economy is not posed. We shall look at what Gregory wrote about this, so that we can understand what interpretation he himself gave to the question of the participation of the Word in human nature, against Apollinaris. 16 Cyrilli Epistula Tertia ad Nestorium, ACO I 1, 1, 33-42, here 40, par. 12,γ. Our translation. 17 Simonetti observes that in all three of the Apologiae for the anathemas, Cyril asserts that he only used physiké here in the general sense of alethés (= real union: ACO I 1, 5, 19; I 1, 7, 40; 15

144

I. VIGORELLI

3. The Epistemology of ἕνωσις in Cyril, borrowed by Justinian When Justinian expresses the union of the Word with human nature as ἕνωσις κατὰ σύνθεσιν ἥγουν καθ’ὑπόστασιν,18 in the anathemas of the Fifth Ecumenical Council, the Second Council of Constantinople, we find that he selects Cyril’s expression, καθ’ὑπόστασιν, but not καθ’ἕνωσιν φυσικήν. The dogmatic definition of the fourth anathema is actually formulated in the following way: The union of God the Word with the flesh animated by a rational and intellectual soul took place by way of synthesis, that is, according to the hypostasis (ἕνωσις κατὰ σύνθεσιν ἥγουν καθ’ὑπόστασιν), as the holy Fathers have taught, and consequently denies that he has only one hypostasis who is our Lord Jesus Christs, one of the Holy Trinity.19

As we mentioned at the beginning of this investigation, Maspero supported the thesis that Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology was fundamental for Justinian, and it allowed him to interpret the work of Cyril through a neo-Chalcedonian lens.20 Indeed, as we have seen, Cyril’s letters place recurring emphasis on the fact that the union of the two natures does not exclude the difference between what pertains to humanity and what pertains to the divine in Christ; the difference of the natures is maintained in Christ, and the double generation, by the Father in eternity and the mother in time, does not multiply the unique filiation of the only Word of God incarnate.21 What, then, was the epistemological criterion that, in Justinian’s eyes, protected Cyrillian Christology from the dual risk of affirming (a) the duplicity of the prosopa, as occurred in the Christologies of the Antiochians, and (b) the monophytism of the Apollinarians?22 In order to identify this epistemological criterion, we can recall two examples in two Christological letters, written after the Formula of Union of 433. These are the two Letters to Succensus, the first of which is dated around the year 435,23 and the second of which is from an uncertain date prior to 438.24 I 16, 118; PG 75, 300; 332; 405). However, the most obvious meaning, given the general context, was that of ‘natural union, of nature’, that is, a concept that was considered typical of Apollinaris. See M. Simonetti, Il Cristo (1986), 610. To me, it seems that Cyril’s clarification allows us to understand the dimension of Christ’s freedom in taking on the effects of His assumption of human nature: something which, as we shall see, is not present in Apollinaris, but is present in Gregory. 18 August Hahn, Bibliothek der Symbole und Glaubensregeln (Breslau, 1897), 169. 19 A. Hahn, Bibliothek der Symbole und Glaubensregeln (1897), 168-9. See DS 424. 20 See G. Maspero, ‘La cristología de Gregorio de Nisa desde la perspectiva del II Concilio de Costantinopla’ (2004), 391. 21 With Nyssen’s terminology, we could say that for Cyril, the unifying factor of the two natures is therefore the one intra-divine schesis, that of the Father and of the Son. 22 This is the sin of which the same Cyril was accused by Nestorius, and by his followers after him, but from which he strenuously defended himself in his Apologiae. 23 ACO I 1,6, 151-7. See M. Simonetti, Il Cristo (1986), 390-405 and Cirillo di Alessandria, Epistole cristologiche, ed. Giovanni Lo Castro (Rome, 1999), 178-88. 24 See Cirillo di Alessandria, Epistole cristologiche, ed. Giovanni Lo Castro (1999), 189.

The Theology of the Union of Natures in Christ in Gregory of Nyssa and Cyril

145

In the first Ad Succensum Episcopum (Letter 45), Cyril unequivocally highlighted that the distinction of natures after the incarnation can only be grasped with the mind: Therefore, as far as concerns our understanding and only the contemplation by the eyes of the soul (εἰς ἔννοιαν καὶ εἰς μόνον τὸ ὁρᾶν τοῖς τῆς ψυχῆς ὄμμασιν) in what manner the only begotten became man, we say that there are two natures which are united, but that Christ the Son and Lord is one, the Word of God the Father made man and incarnate.25

In the Second Letter to Succensus (Letter 46), Cyril reiterates that the mind is capable of continuing to distinguish what in existence is now definitively united: But although the body united to him is not consubstantial to the Word begotten of God the Father, even though it is united with a rational soul, still our thought certainly presents to our mind (ὁ μὲν νοῦς φαντάζεται) the difference of the two natures which have been united.26

The tenor of the epistemology of the union of natures in Christ therefore becomes very significant, because it protects Cyril from the rigidly Nicene interpretation of the Apollinarians, who did not appear to want to maintain the distinction of natures in attempting to protect the impassibility of the divine nature, while the Nestorians, too attached to Aristotelian metaphysics, tended to suppose the presence of two different prosopa supporting the two natures in the Incarnate One. Justinian would borrow Cyril’s aforementioned formulation in his work Contra Monophysitas27 where he cites other writings of the Cappadocian fathers – as Maspero has highlighted clearly. There, Justinian places special emphasis on Gregory of Nyssa and the passage of Contra Eunomium III 4,13-15 (GNO II, 138.28-139.17) in which Gregory stressed that only thought (epinoia) and reason (logos) can distinguish what has become one, out of love for human beings (philanthropia).28 In this epistemological context of continuity between Cyril and Gregory, established by Justinian but also clearly delineated in the work of both, we 25 Οὐκοῦν ὅσον μὲν ἦκεν εἰς ἔννοιαν καὶ εἰς μόνον τὸ ὁρᾶν τοῖς τῆς ψυχῆς ὄμμασιν τίνα τρόποω ἐνηνθρώπησεν ὁ μονογενής, δύο τὰς φύσεις εἶναι φαμὲν τὰς ἑνωθείσας, ἕνα δὲ Χριστὸν καὶ υἱὸν καὶ κύριον, τὸν τοῦ θεοῦ λόγον ἐνανθρωπήσαντα καὶ σεσαρκωμένον, PG 77, 232.55-233.4 (FCNT 76, 193). 26 Ἀλλ’ εἰ καὶ μὴ ἔστιν ὁμοούσιον τῷ ἐκ Θεοῦ Πατρὸς φύντι Λόγῷ τὸ ἑνωθὲν αὐτῷ σῶμα, καὶ ψυχῆς ἑνούσης αὐτῷ νοερᾶς, αλλ’ οὖν ὁ μὲν νοῦς φαντάζεται τὸ ἑτεροφυὲς τῶν ἑνωθέντων, PG 77, 240.15-8 (FCNT 76, 199). 27 See E. Schwartz, Drei dogmatische Schriften Iustinians (1973), 12 [10]; 30-3 and M. Simonetti, Il Cristo (1986), 489. 28 See the contribution of Giulio Maspero in this volume, p. 159-78.

146

I. VIGORELLI

would like to propose a comparison with the notion of ἕνωσις just as it appears in some of the main Christological affirmations of Gregory of Nyssa. Let us examine some examples from Oratio catechetica magna, Ad Theophilum, and Antirrheticus.29 The motivation we gain from the preceding considerations is that of trying to see whether and how, in the debate with the Apollinarians and Neo Arians, Gregory of Nyssa understood the union of the human and divine in Christ as a real union with respect to which the two natures are considered distinct from reason but united in the only living reality of Christ: born, raised, dead, and resurrected. At the same time, with the distinction of natures it will be shown how, because of the difference between theologia and oikonomia, he preserved the uniqueness of the schesis of the Son with the Father. Thus, this is the point – in the work of Justinian – that we think differentiates the Christology of Cyril from that of Nestorius. We cannot show here the extent to which Gregory’s Christology was able to influence the work of Cyril, although we wonder whether the work of Gregory remained unknown to Nestorius like it was to his Alexandrian contender. In the meantime, it seems useful to further investigate how, in an environment that was still embroiled in the anti-Arian polemic of the fourth century, the Cappadocian Father was able to maintain an equilibrium in the dogmatic formulation of the divinity of the Son and His impassibility as God, without – like Nestorius – unbalancing the argument about the necessity of a distinction between the human attributes that the Son could have assumed and those that were not suitable for Him to adopt. It will thus be worthwhile to consider how Gregory had expressed the unity of the one filiation while maintaining the confession of the dual geniture without falling into monophytism, and we shall do this by looking at how Gregory has come to express the freedom of God in becoming incarnate, in such a way as to preserve the impassibility of the eternal and not lose anything He wanted to save, that is, all humanity.30

29

We shall keep in the background the Christological doctrine that was previously developed by Gregory in Oratio catechetica magna (before 381) as well as Gregory’s notion of the unity of the body and of the body of the soul, which is found in De anima et resurrectione (later than 380 and before 386) and In Canticum (later than 390). See Pierre Maraval, ‘Chronology of works’, in Lucas Francisco Mateo-Seco and Giulio Maspero (eds), The Brill Dictionary of Gregory of Nyssa (Leiden, Boston, 2010), 153-69. 30 See Gregorii Nysseni Oratio Catechetica magna (Or. cat.), XXII, ed. Ekkehardus Muehlenberg, GNO III/4 (Leiden, 1996).

The Theology of the Union of Natures in Christ in Gregory of Nyssa and Cyril

147

4. The formulae of the Union in Gregory of Nyssa 4.1. Oratio Catechetica magna Following a chronological order – as much as is possible – between the first formulations of the union of the two natures of Christ that recur in the work of Gregory, those of Or. cat.31 are undoubtedly among the most fascinating.32 We shall focus only on Chapters 10 and 11, to then conclude with a few words about Chapter 37. In Chapter 10, Gregory describes the union of the divine nature and human nature in Christ with the example of the lantern, in which the flame and the matter that it adheres to and that feeds it, can be distinguished but not separated. Hence, the understanding of the divine economy: What is there, then, to prevent our thinking (just as we see flame fastening on the material, and yet not enclosed in it) of a kind of union or approximation of the Divine nature with humanity, and yet in this very approximation guarding the proper notion of Deity, believing as we do that, though the Godhead be in man, it is beyond all circumscription?33

We can thus see how the problem of the union of the two natures in Christ is brought back by Gregory within the dynamic that belongs to the divine economy; or else, we can see how his Trinitarian ontology, which has recognized a difference between being created and uncreated, also allows for the recognition that (a) uncreated being is in no way subject or amenable to the laws of created being; (b) everything that God does in relation to the created being is characterized by freedom and motivated by love. For Gregory, therefore, the description of the mystery of the incarnation leans on these ontological and epistemological conditions, which allow him to maintain an extraordinary equilibrium in proposing the consideration of how God is joined to humankind, to the extent of also reaffirming the insurmountable limit of apophatism for the mystery of Christ. Should you, however, ask in what way Deity is mingled with humanity, you will have occasion for a preliminary inquiry as to what the coalescence is of soul with flesh. [...]

31 Maraval has dated Oratio Catechetica magna as prior to 381, and therefore before Contra Eunomium. See P. Maraval, ‘Chronology of works’ (2010), 156. 32 A quick search of the occurrences of the term ἕνωσις, in its various forms, in the work of Gregory yields about 70. Here, we have collected the references that are the most significant and useful for the comparison we have proposed. 33 τὸν αὐτὸν οὖν τρόπον, ὡς ὁρῶμεν καὶ ἐξημμένην τοῦ ὑποκειμένου τὴν φλόγα καὶ οὐκ ἐναποκλειομένην τῇ ὕλῃ, τί κωλύει θείας φύσεως ἕνωσίν τινα καὶ προσεγγισμὸν κατανοήσαντας πρὸς τὸ ἀνθρώπινον, τὴν θεοπρεπῆ διάνοιαν καὶ ἐν τῷ προσεγγισμῷ διασώσασθαι, πάσης περιγραφῆς ἐκτὸς εἶναι τὸ θεῖον πιστεύοντας, κἂν ἐν ἀνθρώπῳ ᾖ; Or. cat., GNO III/4, 39.4-10. For the English Translation see: The Great Catechism, in The Sacred Writings of Gregory of Nyssa, ed. Henry Austin Wilson (Altenmünster, 2017), 969.

148

I. VIGORELLI

Rather, as in this case of the union of soul and body, while we have reason to believe that the soul is something other than the body, because the flesh when isolated from the soul becomes dead and inactive, we have yet no exact knowledge of the method of the union, so that other inquiry of the union of Deity with manhood, while we are quite aware that there is a distinction as regards the degree of majesty between the Divine and the mortal perishable nature, we are not capable of detecting how the Divine and the human elements are mixed up together.34

In this way, Gregory can interpret Christ’s human nature as complete, real, and distinct from His divine nature, but according to a non-common unity: in Christ, the divinity actually takes on human nature without the Son being subject to the conditions of birth and death, consistent with fallen nature, but He instead lives its dynamisms according to freedom. This means living a human life, or one according to the activity that is proper to human nature, but without being subject to the consequences of sin. He was born, and yet transcended our common humanity both in the manner of His birth, and by His incapacity of a change to corruption.35

The reference to the unity restored by Christ with His resurrection reappears in Chapter 16. The argument is very long, and we shall only cite the last part of it. Since in Christ is the same God who experiences the two decisive transitions of birth and death (that is, of the composition and decomposition of the soul with the body), He Himself with His resurrection becomes the glue that restores what had been dissociated by sin to being an indestructible union.36 With the resurrection, the humanity of the Word reaches full harmonization of all the parts in unity, and His resurrection is also the cause of the reconciliation of human nature in its totality: Instead of preventing the dissolution of His body by death and the necessary results of nature, to bring both back to each other in the resurrection. So that He might become in Himself the meeting-ground (μεθόριον) both of life and death, having re-established in Himself that nature which death had divided, and being Himself that nature which death had divided, and being Himself the originating principle of the uniting those separated portions.37 34 Εἰ δὲ ζητεῖς πῶς κατακιρνᾶται θεότης πρὸς τὸ ἀνθρώπινον, ὥρα σοι πρὸ τούτου ζητεῖν τί πρὸς τὴν σάρκα τῆς ψυχῆς ἡ συμφυία. [...] ἀλλ’ ὥσπερ ἐνταῦθα καὶ ἕτερον εἶναί τι παρὰ τὸ σῶμα τὴν ψυχὴν πεπιστεύκαμεν ἐκ τοῦ μονωθεῖσαν τῆς ψυχῆς τὴν σάρκα νεκράν τε καὶ ἀνενέργητον γίνεσθαι, καὶ τὸν τῆς ἑνώςεως οὐκ ἐπιγινώσκομεν τρόπον, οὕτω κἀκεῖ διαφέρειν μὲν ἐπὶ τὸ μεγαλοπρεπέστερον τὴν θείαν φύσιν πρὸς τὴν θνητὴν καὶ ἐπίκηρον ὁμολογοῦμεν, τὸν δὲ τῆς ἀνακράσεως τρόπον τοῦ θείου πρὸς τὸν ἄνθρωπον συνιδεῖν οὐ χωροῦμεν. Or. cat., GNO III/4, 39.11-22 (The Great Catechism, 969-70). 35 ἐπεὶ δὲ γεγενῆσθαι μὲν αὐτὸν ἀκούεις, ἐκβεβηκέναι δὲ τῆς φύσεως ἡμῶν τὴν κοινότητα τῷ τε τῆς γενέσεως τρόπῳ καὶ τῷ ἀνεπιδέκτῳ τῆς εἰς φθορὰν ἀλλοιώσεως. Or. cat., GNO III/4, 42.5-8 (The Great Catechism, 971). 36 See below, the image of the cane in Antirr. 37 καὶ τοῦτό ἐστι τὸ μυστήριον τῆς τοῦ θεοῦ περὶ τὸν θάνατον οἰκονομίας καὶ τῆς ἐκ νεκρῶν ἀναστάσεως, τὸ διαλυθῆναι μὲν τῷ θανάτῳ τοῦ σώματος τὴν ψυχὴν κατὰ τὴν ἀναγκαίαν τῆς

The Theology of the Union of Natures in Christ in Gregory of Nyssa and Cyril

149

As is clear, here as in the Contra Eunomium, Gregory thinks about the union of the divine and human in Christ starting from the logic of the economy of salvation. What the Bishop of Nyssa wants to confirm is the liberty exercised by the superabundance of the divinity with respect to created human nature and the condescending love of the divine physician who makes Himself the antidote for the salvation of human nature. Accordingly, the soul being fused into Him through faith derives form that the means and occasion of salvation; for the act of union with the life implies a fellowship with the life. But the body comes into fellowship and blending with the Author of our salvation in another way.38

After the encounter with Apollinarism, however, the centre of the treatise will shift into a polemic lens, and the topic of the unity of the divine and human in Christ will also be formulated with focus on the dispute about the dual filiation and the unity of the life of God made flesh, which raises the dignity of human nature, completely divinizing it with its Ascension to the Father at the end of time. Let us thus introduce an analysis of some recurrences of ἒνωσις in the two works that have as their main objective the criticism of Apollinaris’ monophytism. 4.2. Ad Theophilum In his letter to Theophilus of Alexandria (Theoph.),39 there is a comment on Peter’s faith in Jesus, ‘Lord and Messiah’ (Acts 2:36), throughout which Gregory refers to the unity of human and divine and to the truth and definitive nature of the existence of the ‘Lord of Glory’ (1Cor. 2:8). So the crucified one is called the Lord of glory by Paul, and he who is worshipped by all creation, by those ‘in heaven and on earth and under the earth’, is called Jesus. In these passages the true and indivisible union (ἀληθής τε καὶ ἀδιαίρετος ἕνωσις), is expounded, because the ineffable glory of the Godhead is referred to by the name of Jesus, when all flesh and ‘every tongue confesses that Jesus Christ is Lord’, and φύσεως ἀκολουθίαν μὴ κωλῦσαι, εἰς ἄλληλα δὲ πάλιν ἐπαναγαγεῖν διὰ τῆς ἀναστάσεως, ὡς ἂν αὐτὸς γένοιτο μεθόριον ἀμφοτέρων, θανάτου τε καὶ ζωῆς, ἐν ἑαυτῷ μὲν στήσας διαιρουμένην τῷ θανάτῳ τὴν φύσιν, αὐτὸς δὲ γενόμενος ἀρχὴ τῆς τῶν διῃρημένων ἑνώσεως, Or. cat., GNO III/4, 49.8-16 (The Great Catechism, 975). 38 οὐκοῦν ἡ ψυχὴ μὲν διὰ πίστεως πρὸς αὐτὸν ἀνακραθεῖσα τὰς ἀφορμὰς ἐντεῦθεν τῆς σωτηρίας ἔχει· ἡ γὰρ πρὸς τὴν ζωὴν ἕνωσις τὴν τῆς ζωῆς κοινωνίαν ἔχει· τὸ δὲ σῶμα ἕτερον τρόπον ἐν μετουσίᾳ τε καὶ ἀνακράσει τοῦ σώζοντος γίνεται, Or. cat., GNO III/4, 93.4-8 (The Great Catechism, 1003). 39 This is dated shortly after 385, year of the enthronement of the bishop of Theophilus; it seems that Gregory is still not very well informed on the doctrine of Apollinaris. See Gregorii Nysseni Opera (GNO) III/1, ed. Fridericus Mueller (Leiden, 1958), 119-233. For the English Translation we follow FCNT 131, ed. Robin Orton (Washington, 2015).

150

I. VIGORELLI

because he who accepted the sufferings of the cross, who was pierced by the nails and transfixed by the spear, was called the Lord of glory by Paul.40

In this passage, we read the conclusions drawn by Gregory in a letter in which he asks Theophilus to defend Catholics from the accusation of confessing the presence of ‘two sons’ in Christ: one natural and one adopted. In this way, Gregory also defends himself for having affirmed the dual filiation of the one Christ – from the Father by eternal divine begetting, and from the Virgin Mary by earthly begetting.41 Gregory sets out his argument of the unity (ἕνωσις) of the two filiations – divine and human, immanent and economic – in the one Son, basing it on the capacity of the divinity to raise up and divinize humanity. In this way, the eternal Son of the Father, creator and Lord of all creation, like a true physician and out of love, took care of the ‘evil and adulterous’ species. The true Physician, he who cured those who were ill by using the treatment that the disease required, has in the same way provided care for the sick by in a way becoming ill himself with the disease of our nature, and by becoming flesh, flesh that has weakness innate in its own nature: as the divine saying has it, ‘The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak’.42

We thus have the explanation of how the love that drove the physician to cure the disease makes it so that the duality of divine and human, mortal and immortal, mutable and immutable, and corruptible and incorruptible, is not in contradiction during the earthly life of the Son of God, but manifests the perfect union: But if, when what is mortal came to be in what is immortal, it became immortality, and, likewise, what is corruptible was changed into incorruptibility, and, in the same way, all the other qualities were converted into what is impassible and divine, what justification remains for those who seek to divide the one into two separate elements?43 40 ὁ ἐσταυρωμένος κύριος τῆς δόξης ὑπὸ τοῦ Παύλου καλεῖται καὶ ὁ προσκυνούμενος ὑπὸ πάσης κτίσεως, τῶν τε ἐπουρανίων καὶ ἐπιγείων καὶ καταχθονίων, Ἰησοῦς ὀνομάζεται· διὰ τούτων γὰρ ἡ ἀληθής τε καὶ ἀδιαίρετος ἕνωσις ἑρμηνεύεται, ἐκ τοῦ καὶ τὴν ἄφραστον τῆς θεότητος δόξαν τῇ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ προσηγορίᾳ σημαίνεσθαι, ὅταν πᾶσα σὰρξ ἐξομολογήσηται καὶ πᾶσα γλῶσσα ὅτι κύριος Ἰησοῦς Χριστός, καὶ τὸν τὰ πάθη τοῦ σταυροῦ δεξάμενον καὶ περονηθέντα τοῖς ἥλοις καὶ διαπαρέντα τῇ λόγχῃ κύριον δόξης παρὰ τοῦ Παύλου προσαγορεύεσθαι, Theoph., GNO III/1, 128.1-8 (FCNT 131, 267). 41 This is a theme present since the first writings of Gregory in a very delicate style. See De virginitate II. 42 χάριν ὁ ἀληθινὸς ἰατρός, ὁ τοὺς κακῶς ἔχοντας θεραπεύων ὡς ἐπεζήτει τὴν θεραπείαν ἡ νόσος, οὕτω προσήγαγε τῷ ἀρρωστοῦντι τὴν ἐπιμέλειαν, τρόπον τινὰ συνασθενήσας τῇ ἀρρωστίᾳ τῆς ἡμετέρας φύσεως καὶ σὰρξ γενόμενος, ἥτις ἐν τῇ ἑαυτῆς φύσει συνουσιωμένην ἔχει τὴν ἀσθένειαν, καθὼς διδάσκει ἡ θεία φωνὴ ὅτι Τὸ πνεῦμα πρόθυμον, ἡ δὲ σὰρξ ἀσθενής, Theoph., GNO III/1, 124.14-21 (FCNT 131, 264). 43 εἰ δὲ τὸ θνητὸν ἐν τῷ ἀθανάτῳ γενόμενον ἀθανασία ἐγένετο, ὁμοίως καὶ τὸ φθαρτὸν εἰς ἀφθαρσίαν μετέβαλε καὶ τὰ ἄλλα πάντα ὡσαύτως πρὸς τὸ ἀπαθές τε καὶ θεῖον μετεποιήθη,

The Theology of the Union of Natures in Christ in Gregory of Nyssa and Cyril

151

The ἕνωσις of the Word incarnate therefore rests on the joint between eternity and history given by the eternal love of the Father for the Son and of the Son for the Father, and it remains in the epistemological realm that we have already seen: that of the relationship between theologia and oikonomia. The ontological dependence of being created from being uncreated is interpreted on the basis of love and, thanks to the assumption of the human on the part of the divine, this dependence is seen not only as an effect of the love of God the creator, but as the love of God the saviour. Gregory explains this with two very representative images: light and a drop of vinegar in the sea. The Word was and is the Word of God before and after the economy of the incarnation (τὴν ἔνσαρκον οἰκονομίαν), since it is precisely the same OnlyBegotten Son of the Father who manifested Himself (ἐπιφάνειαν) in the flesh: like the ‘true light is the true light both before it shone out into the darkness and afterward’.44 The comparison of the drop of vinegar, understood in the Aristotelian sense, that Gregory uses a little later to say how fallen human nature has been saved and elevated by the power of the divinity, through the union of Christ, seems to be offered unequivocally. In fact, Gregory writes to Theophilus: For the first fruits of human nature that he assumed have been mixed with the allpowerful Godhead, like (as one might say using a simile) a drop of vinegar in the boundless sea, and are in the Godhead rather than in their own peculiar characteristic [those of humanity].45

If we recall the intent of the letter and the theological direction of the context, then we recognize the curative end in the Aristotelian recollection of the image of the drop of vinegar in the sea water, and the accusation of monophytism, even just terminological monophytism, seems excessive.46 Gregory actually specifies that the union of natures makes it so that human nature is divinized because of the omnipotent action that it receives from the union with the eternal Son of the Father, such that the mortal properties cease to be mortal, having been acquired by He who is immortal.47 τίς ὑπολείπεται λόγος ἔτι τοῖς εἰς δυϊκὴν διαφορὰν τὸ ἓν διασχίζουσιν; Theoph., GNO III/1, 125.6-11 (FCNT 131, 264). 44 τὸ φῶς τὸ ἀληθινὸν πρίν τε ἐλλάμψαι τῇ σκοτίᾳ καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα φῶς ἐστιν ἀληθινόν, Theoph., GNO III/1, 125.14-5 (FCNT 131, 265). 45 ἡ δὲ προσληφθεῖσα τῆς ἀνθρωπίνης φύσεως ἀπαρχή, ὑπὸ τῆς παντοδυνάμου θεότητος (ὡς ἂν εἴποι τις εἰκόνι χρώμενος) οἷόν τις σταγὼν ὄξους ἀπείρῳ πελάγει κατακραθεῖσα, ἔστι μὲν ἐν τῇ θεότητι, οὐ μὴν ἐν τοῖς ἰδίοις αὐτῆς ἰδιώμασιν, Theoph., GNO III/1, 126.17-21 (FCNT 131, 266). 46 See Aristotle, Metaphysics, 1044b. 47 See Theoph., GNO III/1, 127. See also in Antirr. as regards Apollinaris’ idea of the flesh/ passions in the divine nature: Apollinaris does not seem to consider the process of the divinization of the human nature united with Christ, carried out with the Ascension and then at the end of time.

152

I. VIGORELLI

But as all those characteristics that can be seen to be associated with what is mortal have been transformed into the characteristics of the Godhead, no distinction between them can be perceived; for whatever one can see of the Son is divinity, wisdom, power, holiness, and impassibility. So how could the unity be separated into a duality, since no numerical distinction can be made?48

This passage is to be read in the context of the whole of Gregory’s works and, therefore, alongside those passages which show that the real distinction of natures is grasped by the intellect.49 Understanding the already-Nyssen conception of the communicatio idiomatum in the context of the purpose for which the divine is united to the human in the Word incarnate (who is and remains the salvation of humankind) still remains a central transition. Here, by ‘redeemed human nature’ (that is, totally divinized and added to the divine life) Gregory means, first of all, the humanity of Christ – according to a dynamic intensification (which recalls the epektasis) that reaches full divinization with the resurrection and ascension – and secondly, the salvation of the whole human race. 4.3. Antirrheticus Let us now consider the second directly anti-Apollinarian work of Gregory of Nyssa. The Antirrheticus is the work in which he directly contests the work of Apollinaris that aims to show (the Apodeixis50) the incarnation of God in the human image. The recurrences of ἕνωσις in this work are manifold because in it, Gregory’s Christology and the properties of the incarnation of the Word are revealed in an astonishing way.51 The unity of divinity and humanity is in fact treated in such a way that the uniqueness of the Son and the duplicity of natures becomes clear, although as this union is fulfilled in Christ, Gregory considers it the very essence of the mystery, which must therefore remain beyond the apophatic veil.52 Let us now have a detailed look at what this means. 48 ἐπειδὴ δὲ πάντων τῶν τῷ θνητῷ συνεπιθεωρουμένων ἐν τοῖς τῆς θεότητος ἰδιώμασι μεταποιηθέντων, ἐν οὐδενὶ καταλαμβάνεται ἡ διαφορά (ὅπερ γὰρ ἄν τις ἴδῃ τοῦ υἱοῦ, θεότης ἐστί, σοφία, δύναμις, ἁγιασμός, ἀπάθεια), πῶς ἂν διαιροῖτο τὸ ἓν εἰς δυϊκὴν σημασίαν, μηδεμιᾶς διαφορᾶς τὸν ἀριθμὸν μεριζούσης; Theoph., GNO III/1, 127.5-10 (FCNT 131, 267). 49 This is seen in the passages of Gregory cited by Justinian in his Contra Monophysitas and cited in the article of G. Maspero, ‘La cristología de Gregorio de Nisa desde la perspectiva del II Concilio de Costantinopla’ (2004). See, for example, Eun. III 3,63,7-14 (GNO II, 130.11-8). 50 Antirrheticus (Antirr.) must necessarily be dated as subsequent to 387, the year in which Gregory of Nazianzus became aware of the Apodeixis, P. Maraval, ‘Chronology of works’ (2010); Mateo-Seco places the Antirr. in 392. It appears that Apollinaris died before having received Gregory’s criticism. For the Greek, we are following the edition in GNO III/1. 51 See Volker H. Drecoll, ‘Antirrheticus’, in Lucas Francisco Mateo-Seco and Giulio Maspero (eds), The Brill Dictionary of Gregory of Nyssa (2010), 48-50. 52 See Francisco Lucas Mateo-Seco, ‘Christology’, in id. and Giulio Maspero (eds), The Brill Dictionary of Gregory of Nyssa (2010), 139-52.

The Theology of the Union of Natures in Christ in Gregory of Nyssa and Cyril

153

The first occurrences appear where Gregory explains that it is impossible to minutely distinguish ‘union’ from ‘assumption’, as Apollinaris wanted in order to preserve God’s impassibility, saying that the human condition is not united, but ‘assumed’. To explain simply the difference between ‘unity as regards the flesh’ (σαρκὸς ἕνωσις) and ‘taking to himself the human being’ (ἀνθρώπου πρόσληψις) is not easy; unity may be understood in various ways, as expressing unity of number, of form, of nature, of ways of living, of teaching, or of virtuous or vicious characteristics and habits.53

The argument of the lexical difference between ἕνωσις and πρόσληψις, so dear to the Apollinarians, is completely diminished by Gregory, aiming at the reality of the union in itself: Union means union with something (ἕνωσις πρός τι γίνεται) and ‘taking to himself’ (πρόσληψις) means taking something. Each signifies a relationship with something else (τὴν πρὸς ἕτερον σχέσιν): the taker (ὁ προσλαβὼν) is united (ἥνωται) with what is taken, and it is by means of taking (διὰ προσλήψεως) that what is united is united (τὸ ἑνωθέν).54

In this case, we see how Gregory uses the term σχέσιν to describe the disposition of one term toward the other so as to form the union. However, we can see how ἕνωσις also has the relational openness in itself (ἕνωσις πρός τι). As we shall see, this is of great interest for understanding the value of the use of the relation in the divine immanence, in order to distinguish it and then unite it to that of the union in the salvific economy. Here, however, Gregory is not speaking of Christ, but he is making a general statement about the union between two terms or the assumption of one by the other. The doctrine on the union in Christ, regarding the dispute with Apollinaris about the freedom of the humanity of Christ united to divinity, later appears. The reasoning is explained like so: According to Apollinaris, the human united to the divine cannot be free because the flesh would not be free (οὐδὲ ἡ σὰρξ αὐτεξούσιος),55 but since God does not take freedom away from His creatures, the human being cannot be united to God. Thus, Gregory ironically concludes:

53 τί γὰρ διαφέρει σαρκὸς ἕνωσις καὶ ἀνθρώπου πρόσληψις, οὑτωσὶ κατὰ τὸ πρόχειρον ἑρμηνεύειν οὐκ εὔπορον, διότι πολλαχῶς νοεῖται ἡ ἕνωσις καὶ ἀριθμῷ καὶ εἴδει καὶ φύσει καὶ ἐπιτηδεύμασι καὶ μαθήμασι καὶ τοῖς κατὰ κακίαν ἢ ἀρετὴν ἰδιώμασι καὶ ἐπιτηδεύμασιν, Antirr., GNO III/1, 184.4-8 (FCNT 131, 176). 54 ἥ τε γὰρ ἕνωσις πρός τι γίνεται ἥ τε πρόσληψις τινὸς πάντως ἐστίν· ἑκάτερον δὲ τὴν πρὸς ἕτερον σχέσιν ἀποσημαίνει καὶ ὁ προσλαβὼν ἥνωται τῷ προσληφθέντι καὶ τὸ ἑνωθὲν διὰ προσλήψεως ἥνωται, Antirr., GNO III/1, 184.27-30 (FCNT 131, 177). 55 Antirr., GNO III/1, 207.7.

154

I. VIGORELLI

Goodness, what irrefutable logic! How indissoluble are the links that bind these arguments together! Union with the divine (ἡ πρὸς τὸ θεῖον ἕνωσις) takes away the free will of men and angels; depriving it of its free will renders a living being with free will imperfect; and, on those assumptions, it is proved that a man cannot be united with God.56

The position developed by Gregory instead goes in the direction of a deepening of the ontology of salvation. After having re-affirmed the dual nature of the human being, composed of soul and body, Gregory asserts that the union with God involves both dimensions and remains there interruptedly. It is in this way that in Christ, God is present in the soul as well as in the body. Moreover, sin is the only thing that can cause freedom to be removed; not union with the Creator. Nothing but sin can dissolve anyone’s bond with God (τῆς πρὸς τὸν θεὸν συναφείας); if anyone’s life is without sin, his union with God (ἡ πρὸς τὸν θεὸν ἕνωσις) is completely indissoluble. Since the absence of sin extended to both elements, that is, to the soul and the body, the divine nature was present (τῆς θείας φύσεως ἡ παρουσία) to both of them in its own way.57

Here, he uses ἕνωσις as indistinct from συνάφεια, thus without supposing a diminution of the effects of the union when he uses the second term. We are half a century before the controversy between the Alexandrians and Antiochians, and we can thus see how the different meaning of the words and philosophical categories is to be attributed to the different polemic contexts. Here, Gregory is interested in bringing the focus back to the salvific economy and explaining the union of natures from the standpoint of the eternal health of the human being. The argument continues with the famous image of the broken cane that is recomposed, through which Gregory establishes the most appropriate example of the divine economy. It is like (for there is no reason not to use a material metaphor to explain the mystery of the providential dispensation of the Resurrection) when a reed is divided into two and someone brings back together into one (ἑνώσειεν) the ends of each section. If the ends are fitted together by being joined in a tight ligature, the whole of each part necessarily fits back together again to form the whole reed. In a similar way, because of the continuity of human nature, the union in Christ of the body and the soul, effected through the Resurrection, brings together by the hope of the resurrection (διὰ τῆς ἀναστάσεως ἕνωσις), the whole of human nature, divided as it is by death into body βαβαὶ τῆς ἀνάγκης! ὡς ἄλυτοι τῶν συλλογισμῶν αἱ πλεκτάναι! ἀφαιρεῖται τῶν ἀνθρώπων καὶ τῶν ἀγγέλων τὸ αὐτεξούσιον ἡ πρὸς τὸ θεῖον ἕνωσις καὶ φθορὰ τοῦ αὐτεξουσίου ζῴου τὸ μὴ εἶναι αὐτεξούσιον γίνεται, καὶ εἰ ταῦτα τεθείη, ἀποδείκνυται τὸ μὴ ἑνοῦσθαι ἄνθρωπον θεῷ, Antirr., GNO III/1, 207.11-5 (FCNT 131, 217). 57 οὐδὲ γὰρ ἔστι τὸ χωρίζον τινὰ τῆς πρὸς τὸν θεὸν συναφείας πλὴν ἁμαρτίας· οὗ δὲ ἡ ζωὴ ἀναμάρτητος, τούτου πάντως ἀχώριστος ἡ πρὸς τὸν θεὸν ἕνωσις. Ἐπεὶ οὖν δι’ ἀμφοτέρων τὸ ἀναμάρτητον, διὰ ψυχῆς λέγω καὶ σώματος, ἐν ἑκατέρῳ κατὰ τὸ εἰκὸς ἦν τῆς θείας φύσεως ἡ παρουσία, Antirr., GNO III/1, 224.21-7 (FCNT 131, 245). 56

The Theology of the Union of Natures in Christ in Gregory of Nyssa and Cyril

155

and soul, and fits together into one (πρὸς συμφυΐαν) what had been separate. This is what Paul says: ‘Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep’ (1Cor. 15:20); and ‘as we all die in Adam, so we all will be made alive in Christ’ (1Cor. 15:22).58

We can see that Gregory shifts the cogency of the arguments from syllogisms to the realization of Christ risen from the dead, which serves as a premise for all of his reasoning. The collective conception of human nature, already developed in Or. Cat., appears again in this treatment, and the image of the union is conveyed by the lively semantic context of συμφυΐαν. Finally, let us resume Gregory’s argument against Apollinaris, which was caused by the confusion of the latter about the distinction of divine immanence and economy. Gregory reports that Apollinaris attributed the conception that there are now properties of the nature of the body in God59 to the Christ’s affirmation: ‘The Father and I are one’ (John 10:30). Gregory focuses on the spiritual nature of God and argues that the union of the Father and the Son occurs in the immanence of the divine nature, where the union itself must be considered according to the spiritual nature. So the unity of the Father with the Son (ἡ τοῦ υἱοῦ πρὸς τὸν πατέρα ἕνωσις) was a matter not of human form, but of their sharing the divine nature and the divine power. (κατὰ τὴν κοινωνίαν τῆς θείας φύσεώς τε καὶ δυνάμεως). That this is the case is abundantly clear from the words he spoke to Philip, ‘Whoever has seen me has seen the Father’ (John 14:9). Perfect perception of the majesty of the Son, as it were of an image (ἐν εἰκόνι), produces a vision of the archetype (τὸ ἀρχέτυπον).60

The difference between the Trinitarian union, of the Father with the Son, and the economic union of the Son with the flesh and the soul of human beings cannot be more apparent. This, however, does not take away the fact that one 58 καὶ ὥσπερ (κωλύει γὰρ οὐδὲν σωματικῶς τὸ μυστήριον τῆς κατὰ τὴν ἀνάστασιν οἰκονομίας ἐνδείξασθαι) [καθάπερ] εἰ διχῇ κάλαμος διασχισθείη καί τις κατὰ τὸ ἓν πέρας τὰ ἄκρα τῶν τοῦ καλάμου τμημάτων ἑνώσειεν, ὅλον ἐξ ἀνάγκης τὸ τμῆμα τοῦ καλάμου πρὸς τὸ ὅλον συναρμοσθήσεται διὰ τῆς ἐν τῷ ἑνὶ πέρατι συμβολῆς τε καὶ σφίγξεως πρὸς τὸ ἕτερον πέρας συναρμοζόμενον, οὕτως ἡ ἐν ἐκείνῳ τῆς ψυχῆς πρὸς τὸ σῶμα γενομένη διὰ τῆς ἀναστάσεως ἕνωσις πᾶσαν κατὰ τὸ συνεχὲς τὴν ἀνθρωπίνην φύσιν διὰ τοῦ θανάτου ψυχῇ τε καὶ σώματι μεμερισμένην πρὸς συμφυΐαν ἄγει τῇ ἐλπίδι τῆς ἀναστάσεως, τὴν συνδρομὴν τῶν διεστηκότων ἁρμόσασα· καὶ τοῦτό ἐστι τὸ παρὰ τοῦ Παύλου λεγόμενον ὅτι Χριστὸς ἐγήγερται ἐκ νεκρῶν, ἀπαρχὴ τῶν κεκοιμημένων, καὶ Ὥσπερ ἐν τῷ Ἀδὰμ πάντες ἀποθνήσκομεν, οὕτως ἐν τῷ Χριστῷ πάντες ζωοποιηθησόμεθα, Antirr., GNO III/1, 226.6-20 (FCNT 131, 247). 59 See Antirr., GNO III/1, 228 (at the end) and 229. 60 ἄρα οὐ κατὰ τὸ ἀνθρώπινον σχῆμα ἡ τοῦ υἱοῦ πρὸς τὸν πατέρα ἕνωσις ἦν, ἀλλὰ κατὰ τὴν κοινωνίαν τῆς θείας φύσεώς τε καὶ δυνάμεως. καὶ ὅτι ταῦτα τοῦτον ἔχει τὸν τρόπον, ἐκ τούτων ἂν γένοιτο μάλιστα δῆλον, ἐν οἷς φησι πρὸς τὸν Φίλιππον· Ὁ ἑωρακὼς ἐμὲ ἑώρακε τὸν πατέρα. ἡ γὰρ ἀκριβὴς τῆς τοῦ υἱοῦ μεγαλειότητος κατανόησις καθάπερ ἐν εἰκόνι τὸ ἀρχέτυπον βλέπειν παρασκευάζει, Antirr., GNO III/1, 230.24-30 (FCNT 131, 254).

156

I. VIGORELLI

cannot divide what is indivisible61 and therefore that the unity of Christ cannot be multiplied, which is ultimately provided by His being the Only-Begotten Son – the perfect image of the Father. 5. Conclusion If we return to our starting point, with the intent of understanding whether and how much Gregory’s theology could have influenced the formulation of the Second Council of Constantinople in choosing the category of enosis instead of schesis as the formula for the union between the human and divine in Christ, we can identify a few considerations. It is more than likely that Justinian could have re-read Cyril’s Christology in light of Gregory of Nyssa. The Cappadocian tradition actually seems to break between the rigid interpretation of Nicaea on the part of Nestorius and the condemnation of Apollinarianism, which leads us to believe that Cyril is heir to a trend that developed the theme of God’s freedom in incarnating. Here, we want to emphasize that Cyril meant that no division is implied by the Trinitarian unity of the Father and the Son, given that the divine Logos is the only subject of all the properties of the human nature of Christ.62 Now, even though Grillmeier had claimed that the expression ἕνωσις καθ’ὑπόστασιν appears for the first time in Cyril as a Christological formula,63 one can see how – to get the actual meaning acquired from the Nyssen Trinitarian theological discourse – it is already capable of basing the divinity of the Son in the immanent and mutual schesis the Son has with the Father, with the involvement of the Spirit; Gregory had already attributed a new meaning to the Aristotelian category of relation in light of the mystery of Christian salvation and of its new ontology, placing the reciprocal schesis of the Father and the Son at the base of the communion (koinōnia, oikeia) of the divine nature. This leads to the exclusion of the possibility of using this same category to say that the relationship between divine and human in Christ, for which one must instead emphasize the unity of the filiation of the Word and the image of the Father, not only for His immanent life but also for His economic mission. The dual origin in the unity of the image therefore points to the ἒνωσις καθ’ὑπόστασιν as the most appropriate formulation. This is approached, from the theoretical standpoint, by the revision of the ways of predicating being (categories) that has its roots in the Trinitarian context of the previous century or in the discussion of what is the foundation of 61

See Antirr., GNO III/1, 232 (at the end). The recurring expression of the only son is proof of this (ACO I 1, 1, 6, 28). See M. Simonetti, Il Cristo (1986), 377. 63 Alois Grillmeier, Gesù il Cristo nella fede della Chiesa (Turin, 2018), 880. 62

The Theology of the Union of Natures in Christ in Gregory of Nyssa and Cyril

157

the relation between the two elements of the discourse that must remain distinct without being numerically divided. This suggests that Cyril was able to distinguish the kath’ypostasin union from the kat’ousian or kata physin union. In fact, while the first can inhere in the economic order, the second pertains only to the divine immanence. Moreover, while kata schesin unity belongs to the mutable order of creation and therefore cannot be predicated of the union with the divine nature of the human nature of Christ, the schesis kata physin is instead that for which, according to Gregory of Nyssa, human nature can access divine life, since the union of the Word with human nature has really divinized it. In order to maintain the faith of the Apostles it was necessary in the fourth century to take on the question of what kind of being according to which the distinction that differentiates the Father from the Son could be predicated while still maintaining the oneness of the divine essence (physike synapheia). The result was a new conception of relation, no longer predicable or not only as an accident of a multiplicity of mutable substances, but as founded in the unity of the substance of the Father and of the Son simultaneously in their mutual distinction. Therefore, the question of the kinds of being (even though it did not emerge in those years as a theoretical question) manifests itself during doctrinal debates, and it is possible to find a history by following the traces of modifications of the value of the use of categories in the philosophical – or truthful – discourse, with respect to which the theologies of the first centuries were habitually compared and offered considerable variations. Now the problem shifts to what the category is with respect to which the unity of existence can be predicated with respect to the two ways of two metaphysically irreconcilable modes of operation – the divine one of the Creator and the created one of humankind – both of which are present in the life of Christ. Similarly to the question about the relation in God revealed by the names of the Father, Son, and Spirit, the union and difference require a further reflection that asks about how the Son establishes a new relation with human nature, no longer only as Creator, but as a man Himself. This paper therefore had the aim of investigating how from the perspective of Dogmengeschichte the predication of the union has taken place, through the use of ἕνωσις καθ’ὑπόστασιν in Cyril and through the use of ἕνωσις in Gregory of Nyssa, highlighting how the predication of the unity in the Trinitarian immanence differs from the predication of the unity in the economy of the incarnation.

Re-thinking Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology in the Light of its Use (chrêsis) in the Second Council of Constantinople Giulio MASPERO, Pontifical University of the Holy Cross, Rome, Italy

ABSTRACT The 2nd Council of Constantinople was characterized by a dialectic approach to the previous Christological positions which had led to the condemnations of Origen and of the Three Chapters. At the same time, Justinian’s theologians had recourse to Gregory of Nyssa’s doctrine on the possibility of distinguishing the hypostatic union of the two natures only through reason (theôria). This shows that the formal insufficiency generally ascribed to the Cappadocian’s Christology should be reconsidered from the perspective of the dogmatic development of the 6th century. However, such a conclusion depends on the question of the correctness of the use of Gregory’s theology. The article is so divided in two main parts: the first is devoted to the discussion of the quotes of the Bishop of Nyssa’s works by Justinian’s theologians in 553 in order to present how the Cappadocian source was used; the second section tries to show through a theological approach why such an operation was accomplished. The result is that Justinian had recourse to Gregory’s Christology, along with the other two Cappadocians, to reread in a realistic way Cyril’s doctrine. This suggests that Gregory’s Christology was ahead of his time even from the terminological perspective. This point is analyzed in the light of the method of the ‘right use’ (usus iustus, chrêsis orthê, chrêsis dikaia) which was typical of the Fathers’ epistemology according to Christian Gnilka.

1. Introduction Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology has been criticized because of its terminology and imprecision.1 Various expert scholars in his work and thought have come to his defense.2 Gregory’s Christology is difficult because it lies at the beginning 1 See Joseph Tixeront, Histoires des dogmes II (Paris, 1909), 128-30 and Alois Grillmeier, Jesus der Christus im Glauben der Kirche I (Freiburg im Breisgau, 1990), 540-1. 2 See Jean-René Bouchet, ‘Le vocabulaire de l’union et du rapport des natures chez S. Grégoire de Nysse’, RThom 68 (1968), 533-82; Lucas Francisco Mateo-Seco, ‘Notas sobre el lenguaje cristológico de Gregorio de Nisa’, ScrTh 35 (2003), 89-112 and id., ‘Cristologia e Linguaggio in Gregorio di Nissa’, in Claudio Moreschini and Giovanni Menestrina (eds), Lingua e teologia nel cristianesimo greco (Brescia, 1999), 227-49. For example, Brian Duvick wrote: ‘Gregory’s mediation between the Monophysitism of Apollinaris and the two-nature Christology of the Antiochene school is preparatory to the reconciliation of Cyril’s and Nestorius’ position’, Brian Duvick, ‘The Trinitarian Tracts of Gregory of Nyssa’, in Hubertus R. Drobner and Albert Vinciano (eds),

Studia Patristica CXII, 159-178. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

160

G. MASPERO

of the theological disputes on the hypostatic union and has recourse to words like mixis and anakrasis, which would later take on a Monophysite meaning.3 Gregory uses this terminology to express the indissolubility of the union of the two natures, in a similar way to how in physics the mixture of two liquids is an irreversible process. The Monophysites would later use these terms to assert that Christ is only of two natures, and not in two natures, as the symbol of Chalcedon affirms. The condemned position is that in Christ, human nature disappears in union with the divine; while the Council declares that the difference of natures is not suppressed by the union.4 The Second Council of Constantinople would later affirm that the two natures that remain in union can only be distinguished by reason (theôria monê), insofar as each of the two follows with its specific properties, but in an inseparable way in the concrete unity of Christ. But, already in the context of Gregory’s thought, mixis and anakrasis should be interpreted from a perspective of the clear affirmation of the communicatio idiomatum so that it is only possible to distinguish the two natures of the hypostasis with reason (theôria). The Cappadocian’s main concern is, in fact, clarifying that the properties pass dynamically from one nature to the other. So, the judgment about his Christology radically changes if it is viewed from the perspective of the end of the Christological disputes, especially those of the Second Council of Constantinople.5 In this context, Gregory’s conception proves to be extremely balanced and accurate, even, paradoxically, at the terminological level. We could say that just its being ahead of his time was the source of both the complexity and the depth of his Christology. Gregory of Nyssa: Homilies on the Beatitudes (Leiden, 2000), 584-5, n. 17. On Christology in general, see Lucas Francisco Mateo-Seco, Estudios sobre la cristología de San Gregorio de Nisa (Pamplona, 1978); Elias Moutsoulas, Hê sarkôsis tou Logou kai hê theôsis tou anthrôpou (Athens, 1965) and Bernard Pottier, Dieu et le Christ selon Grégoire de Nysse (Namur, 1994). On the problem of the interpretation of Gregory’s theory, see Sarah Coakley (ed.), Re-thinking Gregory of Nyssa (Malden, 2003), reissue of no. 18 of the journal, Modern Theology, of October 2002, in particular Brian E. Daley’s article, entitled ‘Divine Transcendence and Human Transformation: Gregory of Nyssa’s Anti-Apollinarian Christology’ (497-506 of the journal). See also Brian E. Daley, God Visible: Patristic Christology Reconsidered (Oxford, 2018). 3 Research on the philosophical background of this period seems very promising. See the original paper: Johannes Zachhuber, ‘Christology after Chalcedon and the Transformation of the Philosophical Tradition: Reflections on a neglected topic’, in Mikonja Knežević (ed.), The Ways of Byzantine Philosoph (Alhambra, 2015), 89-110. 4 See Council of Chalcedon, Definitio, DS 301-3. 5 On the fourth century and the later disputes at the Council of Chalcedon, see Alois Grillmeier, Jesus der Christus im Glauben der Kirche II/2 (Freiburg im Breisgau, 1986), along with the article Charles Moeller, ‘Le chalcédonisme et le néo-chalcédonisme en Orient de 451 à la fin du VIème siècle’, in Alois Grillmeier and Heinrich Bacht (eds), Das Konzil von Chalkedon I (Würzburg, 1951), 637-720, while a synthetic vision is found in Bernard Sesboüé and Joseph Wolinski, Le Dieu du Salut (Paris, 1994), 417-28.

Re-thinking Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology

161

This re-reading can be presented as a chrêsis, according to a method typical of the Fathers of the Church in their relation with pagan sources.6 Doctrine is never a matter of mere words, but meanings emerge from the links between different words, in such a way that the use of some terms is essential to evaluate their position in the development of Christian thought. And Justinian reading of Gregory’s Christology can be considered an example of chrêsis.7 So this article aims at showing (i) how the bishop of Nyssa’s doctrine influenced the Second Council of Constantinople through an analysis of his citations in the Emperor’s works, to later attempt to explain8 (ii) why they were so interesting to him through an outline of the fundamental elements of Gregory’s conception of the hypostatic union. 2. How? – The Emperor’s Quotations This section tries to prove that Justinian’s theologians had recourse to Gregory’s Christology for his dynamic and realistic conception of the union of the two natures in Christ, which he makes explicit in the statement that it is only possible to distinguish them by reason (theôria). Due to the complexity of the historical period in question,9 studying the patristic quotes of Justinian, the true promoter and inspirer of the council, can be a method of quick and effective verification,10 since the role of the emperor has not been merely political, as reflected in his writings, enriched by the work of his theologians and experts in the doctrine of the Fathers.11 The question in the title of the section will be 6 See Christian Gnilka, Chrêsis: die Methode der Kirchenväter im Umgang mit der antiken Kultur: Der Begriff des “rechten Gebrauchs” (Basel, 2012). 7 The beginning of the sixth century can be defined as the true beginning of scholasticism, because that was when the use of the patristic argument began and when the florilegia increased in number and importance, see Ch. Moeller, ‘Le chalcédonisme et le néo-chalcédonisme’ (1951), 637-8. 8 This paper develops the previous results in Giulio Maspero, ‘La cristología de Gregorio de Nisa desde la perspectiva del II Concilio de Costantinopla’, Scripta Theologica 36 (2004), 359-73. 9 The period is increasingly attracting the interest and influence of scholars, aimed at achieving a synthesis and a satisfactory presentation of this complex period, see Filippo Carcione, ‘La ricezione ecclesiale del Concilio di Calcedonia in Oriente tra V e VI secolo’, in Antonio Ducay (ed.), Il Concilio di Calcedonia 1550 anni dopo (Città del Vaticano, 2003), 74. C. Dall’Osso highlights the lack of critical editions of most works, even of the most important authors and the need for deeper study, see Carlo Dall’Osso, ‘La cristologia nella teologia bizantina del secolo VI’, in Giampiero Bof (ed.), Gesù di Nazaret … Figlio di Adamo, Figlio di Dio (Milan, 2000), 208. See also Patrick T. Gray, The Defense of Chalcedon in the East, 451-553 (Leiden, 1979). 10 See Karl-Heinz Uthemann, ‘Kaiser Justinian als Kirchenpolitiker und Theologe’, Augustinianum 39 (1999), 5-83. 11 ‘Come teologo resterebbe personalmente un dilettante, mentre i suoi scritti non sono affatto dilettantistici’, Mario Amelotti and Livia Migliardi Zingale (eds), Scritti teologici ed ecclesiastici di Giustiniano (Milano, 1977), xxix.

162

G. MASPERO

studied following the line of quoting in order to reconstruct the line of reasoning, according to a method that Gregory of Nyssa would call akolouthia. The analysis is facilitated by the indexes edited by Mario Amelotti in the second edition of Eduard Schwartz’s classical work on the three main dogmatic writings of Justinian.12 One can immediately see that Justinian cites Latin authorities alongside the Greek ones. Among these, Cyril stands out, who is understandably cited the most. He is followed by Athanasius along with the three Cappadocians: Gregory of Nyssa is cited eleven times. Interest in the theology of the Cappadocians is inevitable after Nestorius’ introduction of the Trinitarian terminology of these authors into the field of Christology.13 Moreover, an examination of the patristic quotations in the work of Justinian shows that only Cyril and the Cappadocians are cited as authorities to prove the assertion that it is only possible to distinguish the two natures in the hypostatic union through reason (kat’epinoian). The theological analysis reveals, then, that Justinian returns to the Cappadocians to reinterpret Cyril’s doctrine in a realistic sense. In fact, theôria monê can be read in two essentially different ways: (a) as a distinction that is purely abstract and not real, or (b) as a distinction that is real, but in such a deep concrete unity that only thought can distinguish the properties of the two natures. Manlio Simonetti asserts that Justinian reinterprets Cyril’s statements in the neo-Chalcedonian sense, taking advantage of the terminological uncertainty to understand the distinction in a sense that is not purely abstract, as in (a), but real, that is according to (b).14 The careful study of the quotations suggests that Cappadocian theology is exactly what allows Justinian and his theologians to carry out their reinterpretation. In fact, none of the twenty-seven Athanasian citations relates to the theôria monê, while the main authority is, of course, Cyril, who is cited sixty times, at least three of which relate to the subject.15 Basil’s writings appear eight times in the works of Justinian, and only one text refers to the issue we are discussing.16 Gregory of Nazianzus is cited sixteen times and among these 12 Eduard Schwartz, Drei dogmatische Schriften Iustinians (Milan, 1973) (edited by Mario Amelotti, Rosangela Albertella and Livia Migliardi Zingale). 13 See Basil Studer, Gott und unsere Erlösung im Glauben der Alten Kirche (Düsseldorf, 1985), 265. Charles Moeller seems to introduce, in this regard, a false opposition between theologia and oikonomia, which is foreign to the conception of the Cappadocians, see Ch. Moeller, ‘Le chalcédonisme et le néo-chalcédonisme’ (1951), 658 n. 51. 14 See Manlio Simonetti, Il Cristo II (Milano, 1986), 628, n. 21. Justinian cites Cyril’s Epistle 45 (Acta conciliorum oecumenicorum I/1, 6, 153.23-154.3 [Berlin, 1965]) in Contra monophysitas (17,1-18,1; E. Schwartz, Drei dogmatische Schriften, 12.30-2) immediately interpreting the Cyrillian affirmations in the realist sense (ibid. 12.33-9). 15 This concerns the text already seen in the previous note, accompanied by another quote contained in the same work (Schwartz, 22.5-8) and by the famous κατὰ μόνην τὴν θεωρίαν διαιρεῖσθαι of Edictum rectae fidei (Schwartz, 142.25). 16 This concerns Adversus Eunomium, PG 29, 704C, cited immediately after the last Cyrillian text in the previous note, in Edictum rectae fidei (Schwartz, 142.28).

Re-thinking Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology

163

we find a text of De Filio, which is used twice and refers to the necessity of distinguishing the two natures intellectually (tais epinoiais) and terminologically.17 Extremely meaningful is page 142 of Edictum rectae fidei where the κατὰ μόνην τὴν θεωρίαν διαιρεῖσθαι of Cyril, cited in 142,25 (see n. 13), is immediately followed by the texts of Basil in 142,28 (see n. 14) and Gregory of Nazianzus in 142,34 (see n. 15). The whole argument culminates with the longest text of the series: the statement that only thought (epinoia) divides in two what has become a single reality for the love of human beings (philanthrôpia), of Gregory of Nyssa’s Contra Eunomium II, GNO I, 138.28-139.17: And so that the passion of the cross is not attributed to the immaculate nature (ἀκηράτῳ), [Paul] rectifies such errors more clearly with other expressions, calling Him mediator between God and the human race (1Tim. 2:5) and the human race and God, so that, since the two statements refer to one and the same reality (τὰ δύο περὶ τὸ ἕν), one can understand what is appropriate to each: impassibility in the case of Divinity, and the economy of the passion (ἡ κατὰ τὸ πάθος οἰκονομία) in the case of humanity. Since that is the thought (ἐπινοίας) that divides in two what, out of love for the human race, has become a single reality that is distinguished by reason (λόγῳ), [Paul], proclaiming what is superior and what is above all that is mental, has used the highest of names, calling Him God who is over all (Rom. 9:5), the great God (Tit. 2:13), power and wisdom of God (see 1Cor. 1:24), and other such attributes. And when he describes the whole experience of the pains He took on because of the needs of our weakness, he [Paul] names both at the same time from what is ours, calling Him man, without extending to the other nature what is manifested by the term, but in such a way as to safeguard what corresponds to the piety of both.18

This text is especially relevant for Justinian, because its most significant part (GNO I, 138.28-139.6) is also cited in Contra monophysitas (54,10-3): only thought (epinoia) and reason (logos) can divide what, for the love of human beings, has been made a single reality. Within the absolute unity of the two natures, the mind can distinguish the properties of each one, which in turn are 17 This is the De Filio 8, 8, Joseph Barbel, Die fünf theologischen Reden (Düsseldorf, 1963), 170-216, which appears in the same Edictum rectae fidei (Schwartz, 142.34) and in Contra monophysitas (Schwartz, 50.10). 18 καὶ ὡς ἂν μή τις τῇ ἀκηράτῳ φύσει τὸ κατὰ τὸν σταυρὸν πάθος προστρίβοιτο, δι’ ἑτέρων τρανότερον τὴν τοιαύτην ἐπανορθοῦται πλάνην, μεσίτην αὐτὸν θεοῦ καὶ ἀνθρώπων καὶ ἄνθρωπον καὶ θεὸν ὀνομάζων, ἵνα ἐκ τοῦ τὰ δύο περὶ τὸ ἓν λέγεσθαι τὸ πρόσφορον νοοῖτο περὶ ἑκάτερον, περὶ μὲν τὸ θεῖον ἡ ἀπάθεια, περὶ δὲ τὸ ἀνθρώπινον ἡ κατὰ τὸ πάθος οἰκονομία. τῆς οὖν ἐπινοίας διαιρούσης τὸ κατὰ φιλανθρωπίαν μὲν ἡνωμένον, τῷ δὲ λόγῳ διακρινόμενον, ὅταν μὲν τὸ ὑπερκείμενόν τε καὶ ὑπερέχον πάντα νοῦν κηρύσσῃ, τοῖς ὑψηλοτέροις κέχρηται τῶν ὀνομάτων, ἐπὶ πάντων θεὸν καὶ μέγαν θεὸν καὶ δύναμιν θεοῦ καὶ σοφίαν καὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα καλῶν· πᾶσαν δὲ τὴν ἀναγκαίως διὰ τὸ ἡμέτερον ἀσθενὲς συμπαραληφθεῖσαν τῶν παθημάτων πεῖραν ὑπογράφων τῷ λόγῳ ἐκ τοῦ ἡμετέρου κατονομάζει τὸ συναμφότερον, ἄνθρωπον αὐτὸν προσαγορεύων, οὐ κοινοποιῶν πρὸς τὴν λοιπὴν φύσιν διὰ τῆς φωνῆς τὸ δηλούμενον, ἀλλ’ ὥστε περὶ ἑκάτερον τὸ εὐσεβὲς φυλαχθῆναι (Gregory of Nyssa, Contra Eunomium III 4, 14,6-15,12; GNO II, 138.28-139.17: Schwartz, 142.37-144.10).

164

G. MASPERO

reflected in the names that Paul uses. As always, Gregory’s reasoning proceeds from Scripture. Thus, page 142 of Edictum Rectae Fidei makes evident, even visually, the role of Cappadocian Christology, and Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology in particular, in Justinian’s neo-Chalcedonian reinterpretation of Cyril. For Justinian’s theological argument, the affirmation of the distinction between nature and hypostasis is essential, because it is only on the basis of it that the hypostatic union can be understood. That is why the first step is on the level of Trinitarian immanence, with a quotation of Gregory of Nyssa, which accompanies other texts of Basil and Gregory of Nazianzus: Indeed, the property of the hypostases makes clear and unconfused (ἀσύγχυτον) the distinction (διαστολήν) of the persons (προσώπων), but a single name, prescribed in the exposition of the faith, clearly reveals the unity of the essence of the persons (προσώπων) in the faith. This is the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. In fact, we do not learn of a difference of nature from these terms, but only the properties that provide knowledge of the hypostases.19

Note that the adjective asygchytos that appears here will later be seen in a Christological context.20 In fact, Gregory uses the four adjectives taken up again in the form of an adverb by the Symbol of Chalcedon (asygchytos, atreptos, adiairetos, achôristos) in both Christological and Trinitarian terms.21 The point is fundamental: the unconfused distinction of the three divine Persons is the basis of all the Christological reasoning. Justinian relies on the Trinitarian doctrine of the Cappadocians to affirm the distinction between nature and hypostasis. It is only within this terminological framework that the necessity of distinguishing the two natures in Christ, whose unity is based on the uniqueness of the Person, can be understood. The dispute over Monophysitism is thus in direct relation with the discussions between Gregory of Nyssa and Apollinaris. He taught that it was impossible for Christ to be perfectly God and perfectly man, because in this way he could not have been one: ‘If a perfect God had joined a perfect man, they would be two’ (εἰ ἀνθρώπῳ τελείῳ συνήφθη θεὸς τέλειος͵ δύο ἂν ἦσαν).22 19 ἡ μὲν γὰρ τῶν ὑποστάσεων ἰδιότης τρανήν τε καὶ ἀσύγχυτον ποιεῖται τὴν τῶν προσώπων διαστολήν, ἓν δὲ ὄνομα προκείμενον τῆς κατὰ τὴν πίστιν ἐκθέσεως σαφῶς ἡμῖν τὴν ἑνότητα τῆς οὐσίας τῶν ἐν τῇ πίστει προσώπων διερμηνεύει, πατρός τε λέγω καὶ υἱοῦ καὶ πνεύματος ἁγίου. διὰ γὰρ τῶν κλήσεων τούτων οὐ φύσεως διαφορὰν διδασκόμεθα, ἀλλὰ μόνας τὰς τῶν ὑποστάσεων γνωριστικὰς ἰδιότητας (id., Refutatio confessionis Eunomii, 12,4-13,3: GNO II, 317.20-7: Schwartz, 70.3-7). 20 See p. 175-6. 21 See the corresponding entries in Friedhelm Mann, Lexicon Gregorianum: Wörterbuch zu den Schriften Gregors von Nyssa (Leiden, 1999-2001). 22 This concerns fragment no. 81, Hans Lietzmann, Apollinaris von Laodicea und seine Schule (New York, 1970), 224, cited in Contra monophysitas (Schwartz, 72.63). The lesson followed is the one quoted by Justinian.

Re-thinking Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology

165

In order to clarify the issue, Justinian introduces a long quote of Gregory, taken from Antirrheticus Adversus Apolinarium (GNO III/1, 194.6-196.5), into Contra monophysitas (72,6-74,2). Its opening is a caustic confutation of Apollinaris’ arithmetic: Has he, that noble man, not seen children count the fingers on their hands? They, counting the smallest one along with the largest, include the one that is smaller in size and the one that stands out in size, but they say that there are two, if they calculate both together. In effect, every number is a synthesis of units (μονάδων)23 and it means as a sum the result of the composition of them.24

Gregory shows that two individual realities are always counted as two, although there is a qualitative difference between them. Apollinaris, on the contrary, taught that a perfect reality and an imperfect or incomplete reality have to be counted as a single reality. For Gregory, however, in the case of the union of the two irreconcilable realities, as in the hypostatic union, is clear that both must be counted but cannot be considered as a unit. What underlies the question is that Apollinaris, like Eunomius, remains in a solely quantitative consideration of the relation between creature and Creator, between time and eternity. The root of the discussions is the confusion between theologia and oikonomia. In fact, Gregory can rely on an essentially qualitative conception of the difference between the eternal divine immanence and creation with God’s action in time, because his metaphysical framework implies an ontological gap between the eternal level, that is the triune God, and the temporal and diastematic level, that is the world both spiritual and material. By this same qualitative understanding, Gregory is able to distinguish the two natures in Christ, without separation, because Christ is the second Person of the eternal Trinity that joins the human nature of created humans, as the supreme manifestation of that love that constitutes the very being of God. It is evident, from the rest of this quote of Gregory, that the heart of the question lies in the union of the eternal with the temporal. According to what Gregory says, Apollinaris does not in fact want to recognize that Christ has a human intellect, because human thought is mutable. Gregory responds that, if that were the case, then the heretic would also have to reject the flesh of Christ: 23 The definition of number comes from Aristotle (Metaphysica 1039a.12) and his tradition, see Alexander of Aphrodisia, In Aristotelis Metaphysica Commentaria, 111,6; 224,33; 226,13. See also Gregory of Nyssa, Apologia in hexaemeron, 85,32 and Clement of Alexandria, Stromata, VI 11, 84,7,2. 24 οὐκ εἶδεν ὁ γεννάδας οὐδὲ παιδία ποτὲ τοὺς ἐπὶ τῆς παλάμης δακτύλους ἐξαριθμούμενα; ὁ τὸν μικρὸν τῷ μείζονι συναριθμῶν ἕνα μὲν ὀνομάζει τὸν ἐλαττούμενον καὶ ἕνα τὸν ὑπερέχοντα, δύο δὲ ὅμως εἶναί φησιν, εἰ μετ΄ ἀλλήλων ἀμφοτέρους λογίζοιτο. πᾶς γὰρ ἀριθμὸς μονάδων ἐστὶ σύνθεσις, τὸ ἀθροιζόμενον ἐκ τούτων ἐν κεφαλαίῳ σημαίνων. (Gregory of Nyssa, Antirrheticus Adversus Apolinarium, GNO III/1, 194.6-12; cited in Schwartz, 72.6-9).

166

G. MASPERO

Indeed, the same writer cannot deny that [the flesh] is mutable, that flesh which changes the ages of life like clothes, from youth to adulthood. How could He not be changed when He was first carried in His mother’s arms, was then among children, and later among youths, gradually progressing to adulthood, until reaching the perfect age of manhood? Then, if the intellect is rejected because of mutability, for the same reason that not even the flesh is attributed by him [to Christ], it will thus be shown according to his reasoning that the whole Gospel is false, preaching is empty, and faith is in vain.25

The conclusion is that just as Christ did not contaminate Himself by taking on mutable flesh, He also did not contaminate Himself by taking on intellect. However, Apollinaris insists on his reasoning, saying that human nature has not been saved by His taking on an intellect and a complete humanity, but by His taking on the flesh, the nature of which corresponds to being guided: for the divine nature it is natural to govern, but for the nature of the flesh it is natural to be governed. This affirmation allows Gregory to unmask the falsity of the adversary, insofar as he says that the two realities are one, while he has just affirmed their diversity of nature: Then, if one considers the nature of each of the two in the opposite properties, that is, the flesh and divinity, how is it possible that the two natures are one?26

Justinian leans on the authority of Gregory to clarify the difference of the natures, conceived in terms of relation between eternity and time. The soteriological perspective is here noteworthy: if Christ has not truly entered into time with His flesh and intellect, then salvation is not real, and faith is pointless. In order to affirm the unity of the two natures in Christ, Justinian looks to the theology of filiation and the unity of the Son, characteristic of Gregory, when he cites Contra Eunomium II in Contra monophysitas (48,7-8). The substance of the Father is indeed the same as that of the Son: The name Son indicates equal communion (κοινωνίαν) of nature in both senses. In fact, as [for Christ], He is called Son of man because of the kinship (συγγένειαν) of His flesh with the flesh [of the Virgin] of whom He was begotten, so He is also undoubtedly considered the Son of God because of the union (συνάφειαν) of His ousia with the ousia of which He has received His substance (ὑπέστη).27 25 τὸ γὰρ τρεπτὴν αὐτὴν εἶναι οὐδὲ ὁ λογογράφος ἀντείποι, ἀπὸ νεότητος μέχρι τελειώσεως ὥσπερ ἐνδύματα μετενδυομένην τὰς ἡλικίας. ἢ πῶς οὐκ ἦν τρεπτὸς ὁ πρότερον ἐπ΄ ὠλένης ὑπὸ τῆς μητρὸς κομιζόμενος, εἶτα ἐν παιδίοις, εἶτα ἐν μειρακίοις γινόμενος καὶ οὕτω κατ΄ ὀλίγον προελθὼν εἰς τὸ τέλειον, ὥστε εἰς τὸ μέτρον τῆς ἀνθρωπίνης ἡλικίας ἐλθεῖν; εἰ οὖν ὁ νοῦς διὰ τὸ τρεπτὸν ἀποβάλλεται, διὰ τὴν αὐτὴν αἰτίαν μηδὲ ἡ σὰρξ ὑπ΄ αὐτοῦ συγχωρείσθω καὶ οὕτω ψευδὲς κατ΄ αὐτὸν δειχθήσεται τὸ εὐαγγέλιον ἅπαν καὶ κενὸν τὸ κήρυγμα καὶ ματαία ἡ πίστις (GNO III/1, 195.1-10; quoted in Schwartz, 72.22-8). 26 εἰ οὖν ἐν τοῖς ἐναντίοις ἰδιώμασιν ἡ θατέρου τούτων θεωρεῖται φύσις, τῆς σαρκὸς λέγω καὶ τῆς θεότητος, πῶς μία αἱ δύο φύσεις εἰσίν (GNO III/1, 196.3-5; quoted in Schwartz, 73.1-2). 27 τοῦ υἱοῦ τὸ ὄνομα ἴσην κατ΄ ἀμ οὐσίας προφέρομεν, ὅτι τοῦ υἱοῦ τὸ ὄνομα ἴσην κατ΄ ἀμφότερα τὴν τῆς φύσεως κοινωνίαν ἐνδείκνυται. ὡς γὰρ υἱὸς ἀνθρώπου λέγεται διὰ τὴν τῆς σαρκὸς αὐτοῦ πρὸς τὴν ἐξ ἧς ἐγεννήθη συγγένειαν, οὕτω καὶ τοῦ θεοῦ πάντως υἱὸς νοεῖται

Re-thinking Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology

167

And the same idea is repeated a little later, when he cites the excellent text of Contra Eunomium III (1, 92,5-93,1; GNO II, 35.12-9): This very word is the strongest defense (ὅπλον) of truth. In fact, no other name says as much as Mediator (μεσίτην) between God and the human race,28 as the great Apostle calls Him, as the name of Son, because it is applied in the same way (κατὰ τὸ ἴσον) to both natures, to the divine as well as the human. Indeed, the same being is Son of God and has become Son of man in the economy (κατ’ οἰκονομίαν), to reunify in Himself, by communion (κοινωνίᾳ) with both [natures], what by nature had been separated.29

It is Filiation that unites the two natures. The quotations of Justinian are faithful to Gregory’s Christology, insofar as the reasoning is based on the difference of natures, in order to identify in the Person of the Son that which brings them together in a concrete union that is so perfect that the human being is truly divinized and the properties of one nature pass to the other. This is the foundation of the adoration of the One who was crucified, whose glory and divinity must be recognized precisely in His voluntary and merciful self-emptying, as stated in the quote from Contra Eunomium II (GNO II, 120.23-121.7), which appears in Epistula contra tria capitula (106,1-8): This is what we have believed about He who was Crucified, and that is why we do not cease to exalt Him above all things to the extent of our capabilities, because precisely He, who by His ineffable and inaccessible greatness cannot be encompassed (χωρητός) in anything but Himself, the Father, and the Holy Spirit. He was even able to descend into communion (κοινωνίαν) with our weakness. But they [the Eunomians] fabricate this proof of difference according to the nature of the Son with respect to the Father, that is, the fact that the Lord has been manifested (φανερωθῆναι) in the flesh and on the cross, in such a way that, while the Father’s nature remains pure in its impassibility and cannot in any way assume participation (κοινωνίαν) in the passion, the Son, changing His nature into what is inferior, was able to reach the experience (πεῖραν) of the flesh and of death.30 διὰ τὴν τῆς οὐσίας αὐτοῦ πρὸς τὴν ἐξ ἧς ὑπέστη συνάφειαν (id., Contra Eunomium III 1, 91,792,5; GNO II, 35.7-12, quoted in Schwartz, 48.7-9). This is the only quote of Gregory that is used by Justinian in which the variants between the original and the text received by the emperor’s theologians are relevant: at the beginning one speaks of tên tôn physeôn koinônian, with a plural nature (Schwartz, 48.7), and in the end one expresses the Person from whom the Son receives subsistence, with the expression tên ek patros synapheian (Schwartz, 48,9). The variants do not appear in any codex of Gregory’s work (see the critical device in GNO II, 35). 28 1Tim. 2:5. 29 καὶ τὸ μέγιστον τῆς ἀληθείας ὅπλον οὗτος ὁ λόγος ἐστίν. τὸν γὰρ μεσίτην θεοῦ καὶ ἀνθρώπων, καθὼς ὠνόμασεν ὁ μέγας ἀπόστολος, οὐδὲν οὕτως ὡς τὸ τοῦ υἱοῦ δείκνυσιν ὄνομα, ἑκατέρᾳ φύσει, τῇ θείᾳ τε καὶ ἀνθρωπίνῃ, κατὰ τὸ ἴσον ἐφαρμοζόμενον. ὁ γὰρ αὐτὸς καὶ θεοῦ υἱός ἐστι καὶ υἱὸς ἀνθρώπου κατ’ οἰκονομίαν ἐγένετο, ἵνα τῇ πρὸς ἑκάτερον κοινωνίᾳ δι’ ἑαυτοῦ συνάψῃ τὰ διεστῶτα τῇ φύσει (Gregory of Nyssa, Contra Eunomium III 1, 92,5-93,1; GNO II, 35.12-9: Schwartz, 48.33-6). 30 ταῦτα περὶ τὸν ἐσταυρωμένον ἡμεῖς πεπιστεύκαμεν καὶ διὰ τοῦτο ὑπερυψοῦντες κατὰ τὸ ἡμέτερον τῆς δυνάμεως μέτρον οὐκ ἀπολήγομεν, ὅτι ὁ μηδενὶ χωρητὸς διὰ τὴν ἄφραστον

168

G. MASPERO

The Cross is glorious, and the distinct properties are attributed to the corresponding nature, as Gregory writes in Contra Eunomium III (3, 66,8-67,6; GNO II, 131.8-22). Justinian cites this text in Epistula contra tria capitula: That is why it is said that the cross is of the Lord of Glory31 and every tongue proclaims that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father (Phil. 2:11). And if other realities should be divided in the same way, let us examine what dies and what dissolves death, and what is renewed (ἀνακαινούμενον) and what has been annihilated (κενούμενον). In fact, the Divinity is annihilated, to become encompassable (χωρητή) by human nature, while humanity is renewed, made divine (θεῖον) through union (ἀνακράσεως) with the Divine (θεῖον).32

Gregory’s conception of the hypostatic union is reflected in all its dynamicity in the citations of emperor Justinian, who looks to the theology of the Cappadocians, and Gregory of Nyssa specifically, to reinterpret the theôria monê of Cyril in a realistic sense and to provide a foundation for the Christology of the Second Council of Constantinople. The line of quoting makes evident an essential point: the use (chrêsis) of the Cappadocian’s thought encompasses both Trinitarian and Christological texts, which cannot be artificially divided in Gregory’s approach. 3. Why? – The Bishop’s Concerns The reason behind Justinian’s recourse to Gregory’s doctrine, and more general to the Cappadocian theology, to reread Cyril’s Christology in a realistic sense can be discussed starting form the bishop of Nyssa’s main concern, that is soteriology. Gregory has to oppose Apollinaris, who denies the integrity of the human nature of Christ: the bishop of Laodicea allegedly asserts that Christ cannot be perfectly man, because if He were, then one would have to believe in the αὐτοῦ καὶ ἀπρόσιτον μεγαλειότητα πλὴν ἑαυτῷ καὶ τῷ πατρὶ καὶ τῷ πνεύματι τῷ ἁγίῳ, οὗτος καὶ πρὸς κοινωνίαν τῆς ἀσθενείας ἡμῶν κατελθεῖν ἠδυνήθη· οἱ δὲ ταύτην ἀπόδειξιν τῆς κατὰ τὴν φύσιν ἀλλοτριότητος τοῦ υἱοῦ πρὸς τὸν πατέρα ποιοῦνται, τὸ διὰ σαρκὸς καὶ σταυροῦ φανερωθῆναι τὸν κύριον, ὡς τῆς μὲν φύσεως τοῦ πατρὸς καθαρῶς ἐν ἀπαθείᾳ δια μενούσης καὶ μηδενὶ τρόπῳ τὴν πρὸς τὸ πάθος κοινωνίαν ἀναδέξασθαι δυναμένης, τοῦ δὲ υἱοῦ διὰ τὸ πρὸς τὸ ταπεινότερον παρηλλάχθαι τὴν φύσιν, πρὸς σαρκός τε καὶ θανάτου πεῖραν οὐκ ἀδυνατοῦντος ἐλθεῖν (ibid. 3, 37,1-38,8; GNO II, 120.23-121.7; quoted in Schwartz, 106.1-8). 31 See 1Cor. 2:8. 32 διὰ τοῦτο γὰρ καὶ τοῦ κυρίου τῆς δόξης ὁ σταυρὸς λέγεται καὶ πᾶσα γλῶσσα ἐξομολογεῖται ὅτι κύριος Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς εἰς δόξαν θεοῦ πατρός. Εἰ δὲ χρὴ καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν διελεῖν τρόπον, σκεψώμεθα τί τὸ ἀποθνῆσκον καὶ τί τὸ καταλύον τὸν θάνατον, τί τὸ ἀνακαινούμενον καὶ τί τὸ κενούμενον. κενοῦται μὲν γὰρ ἡ θεότης, ἵνα χωρητὴ τῇ ἀνθρωπίνῃ φύσει γένηται, ἀνακαινοῦται δὲ τὸ ἀνθρώπινον, διὰ τῆς πρὸς τὸ θεῖον ἀνακράσεως θεῖον γινόμενον (Gregory of Nyssa, Contra Eunomium III, 3, 66,8-67,6; GNO II, 131.8-22: Schwartz, 106.9-13).

Re-thinking Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology

169

existence of two sons. As a result, the Cappadocian must go deeper in his understanding of the way in which the union is carried out and vigorously emphasize its perfection. If, in Christ, human nature were not perfectly united to the divine nature, then Apollinaris’ objection would be correct: And if the divine that came into the human, the immortal that was begotten in the mortal, the power that came into weakness, and the immutable and incorruptible that came into the mutable and moral would have let mortality remain in the corruptible, and in the same way, each of the other properties would rightfully be considered a duplicity in the Son of God, enumerating in itself each of the observed properties on its own with respect to the opposite. However, if the mortal who came into the immortal came into incorruptibility and likewise all the other characteristics were transformed into impassibility and divinity, what argument remains for those who divide the one being (τὸ ἕν) into a double difference?33

Gregory’s answer to Apollinaris is the perfect divinization of Christ’s humanity: He is indivisible in His unity (to hen), insofar as He is perfect man and perfect God. What is really unacceptable to Apollinaris, however, is that God can continue to be God in the union with matter by incarnation: Indeed, the Word is and was Word both before and after the economy of the flesh (τὴν ἔνσαρκον οἰκονομίαν); and God remained God before and after assuming the form of the slave (Phil. 2:7); the true light is true light before and after having shone in the darkness (see John 1:5, 9).34

The entire basis for Gregory’s position is the faith that human nature has been saved by the union with the Word in the Mystery (σωθῆναι μὲν τὴν ἀνθρωπίνην φύσιν ἑνωθεῖσαν τῷ λόγῳ παρὰ τοῦ μυστηρίου).35 Through the incarnation, the Only Begotten Son takes the weakness of human beings upon Himself, but He does not leave them in their weakness: But the mortal was absorbed (κατεπόθη) by life, and the One who was crucified because of weakness would live because of power, curse was turned into beatitude and all that is weak and mortal in our nature was transformed into that which Divinity is, when it was indissolubly (ἀνακραθέν) united to the Divinity. For this reason, how is it Εἰ μὲν οὖν τὸ θεῖον ἐν τῷ ἀνθρωπίνῳ γενόμενον καὶ ἐν τῷ θνητῷ τὸ ἀθάνατον καὶ τὸ δυνατὸν ἐν τῷ ἀσθενεῖ καὶ ἐν τῷ τρεπτῷ τε καὶ φθειρομένῳ τὸ ἀναλλοίωτόν τε καὶ ἄφθαρτον ἐφῆκεν ἐπιμεῖναι τὸ θνητὸν τῷ θνητῷ ἢ τῇ φθορᾷ τὸ φθαρτὸν καὶ τὰ ἄλλα τοῖς ἄλλοις κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον, εἰκότως ἄν τις δυάδα τῷ υἱῷ τοῦ θεοῦ ἐνεθεώρησεν, τῶν κατὰ τὸ ἐναντίον θεωρουμένων ἑκάτερον ἰδιαζόντως ἐφ΄ ἑαυτοῦ ἀριθμῶν. εἰ δὲ τὸ θνητὸν ἐν τῷ ἀθανάτῳ γενό μενον ἀθανασία ἐγένετο, ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ τὸ φθαρτὸν εἰς ἀφθαρσίαν μετέβαλε καὶ τὰ ἄλλα πάντα ὡσαύτως πρὸς τὸ ἀπαθές τε καὶ θεῖον μετεποιήθη, τίς ὑπολείπεται λόγος ἔτι τοῖς εἰς δυϊκὴν διαφορὰν τὸ ἓν διασχίζουσιν (id., Ad Theophilum adversus Apollinaristas, GNO III/1, 124.21-125.10). 34 Ὁ γὰρ λόγος καὶ πρὸ τῆς σαρκὸς καὶ μετὰ τὴν ἔνσαρκον οἰκονομίαν λόγος καὶ ἦν καὶ ἔστιν· καὶ ὁ θεὸς καὶ πρὸ τῆς τοῦ δούλου μορφῆς καὶ μετὰ ταύτην θεός ἐστιν· καὶ τὸ φῶς τὸ ἀληθινὸν πρίν τε ἐλλάμψαι τῇ σκοτίᾳ καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα φῶς ἐστιν ἀληθινόν (GNO III/1, 125.11-5). 35 See GNO III/1, 125.22-4. 33

170

G. MASPERO

possible to conceive of a duality of sons, just as if we were compelled by logical necessity to such a conclusion based on the economy of the flesh (διὰ τῆς κατὰ σάρκα οἰκονομίας)?36

The core of the reasoning is the soteriological dimension of the Christian mystery, dogmatically expressed through the connection between divine immanence and economy. The human beings are really saved if and only if Jesus is the one Son of God who is the eternal life, as He is one with His Father. This brings to a fundamental text where Gregory’s Christology is linked to a protoformulation of perichoresis: And since He [the Son] is always in the Father and has always the Father in Himself and is one with Him, as He was, and so is and will be; and another Son besides Him neither was, neither came to be, neither will be; and the First-Fruit (ἀπαρχή) who took the human nature is in the divinity and not only in the characteristics proper to it, as a drop (σταγών) of vinegar mingled by the almighty divinity with an infinite see, if it is possible to speak using (χρώμενος) an image, so it would coherently be possible to think of a dyad of sons, if a heterogeneous nature could be recognized through specific properties in the unutterable divinity of the Son, so that He were weak, small, perishable and temporary, on one hand, but powerful, great, immortal and eternal, on the other. But since all the characteristics which are observed (συνεπιθεωρουμένων) along with his mortality are changed into the properties of the divinity, no difference can be seized, as whatever can be seen of the Son is divinity, wisdom, power, holiness, impassibility, how is it possible to divide the one being in a two-fold mark, when no difference divides the number?37

This is a fundamental text where three main elements can be highlighted: (i) the link between the communicatio idiomatum of the two natures in Christ and the perichoresis of the Father and the Son; (ii) the use of the verb συνεπιθεωρέω to express the way of getting to know it; and (iii) the image of the 36 ἀλλὰ τὸ μὲν θνητὸν ὑπὸ τῆς ζωῆς κατεπόθη, ὁ δὲ σταυρωθεὶς ἐξ ἀσθενείας ἔζησεν ἐκ δυνάμεως ἥ τε κατάρα εἰς εὐλογίαν μετεποιήθη καὶ πᾶν, ὅσον ἀσθενὲς τῆς φύσεως ἡμῶν καὶ ἐπίκηρον ἀνακραθὲν τῇ θεότητι ἐκεῖνο ἐγένετο, ὅπερ ἡ θεότης ἐστίν. πόθεν οὖν ἄν τις τὴν δυάδα τῶν υἱῶν ἐννοήσειεν ὡς ἀνάγκῃ τινὶ διὰ τῆς κατὰ σάρκα οἰκονομίας πρὸς τὴν τοιαύτην ὑπόληψιν ἐναγόμενος (GNO III/1, 126.7-13). 37 Ὁ γὰρ ἀεὶ ἐν τῷ πατρὶ ὢν καὶ ἀεὶ ἔχων ἐν ἑαυτῷ τὸν πατέρα καὶ ἡνωμένος αὐτῷ, ὡς ἦν καὶ πρώην͵ οὕτω καὶ ἔστι καὶ ἔσται καὶ ἄλλος παρ’ ἐκεῖνον υἱὸς οὔτε ἦν οὔτε ἐγένετο οὔτε ἔσται· ἡ δὲ προσληφθεῖσα τῆς ἀνθρωπίνης φύσεως ἀπαρχή, ὑπὸ τῆς παντοδυνάμου θεότητος (ὡς ἂν εἴποι τις εἰκόνι χρώμενος) οἷόν τις σταγὼν ὄξους ἀπείρῳ πελάγει κατακραθεῖσα, ἔστι μὲν ἐν τῇ θεότητι, οὐ μὴν ἐν τοῖς ἰδίοις αὐτῆς ἰδιώμασιν. οὕτω γὰρ ἂν ἡ τῶν υἱῶν δυὰς ἀκολούθως ὑπενοεῖτο, εἰ ἐν τῇ ἀφράστῳ τοῦ υἱοῦ θεότητι ἑτερογενής τις φύσις [ἐν] ἰδιάζουσι σημείοις ἐπεγινώσκετο, ὡς εἶναι τὸ μὲν ἀσθενὲς ἢ μικρὸν ἢ φθαρτὸν ἢ πρόσκαιρον, τὸ δὲ δυνατὸν καὶ μέγα καὶ ἄφθαρτον καὶ ἀΐδιον· ἐπειδὴ δὲ πάντων τῶν τῷ θνητῷ συνεπιθεωρουμένων ἐν τοῖς τῆς θεότητος ἰδιώμασι μεταποιηθέντων, ἐν οὐδενὶ καταλαμβάνεται ἡ διαφορά (ὅπερ γὰρ ἄν τις ἴδῃ τοῦ υἱοῦ, θεότης ἐστί, σοφία, δύναμις, ἁγιασμός, ἀπάθεια), πῶς ἂν διαιροῖτο τὸ ἓν εἰς δυϊκὴν σημασίαν, μηδεμιᾶς διαφορᾶς τὸν ἀριθμὸν μεριζούσης (GNO III/1, 126.14-127.10)

Re-thinking Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology

171

drop of vinegar in the see as an expression of the exchange of the properties between the natures. The latter is perfect example of the importance of chrêsis in the Fathers’ method and consequently of the need to take it into account for a right hermeneutics of their writings. The same image can be used by Monophysitic authors and by Gregory of Nyssa, but this does not imply that they mean the same. That is why theology and philology cannot be dialectically opposed and divided. For Gregory, it is not possible to present the Christian mystery without referring to the soteriological perspective, which is his constant focus. And the purpose of the image of the drop of vinegar is exactly linked to salvation, as it is evident in the following text, where the principle of distinction in the attribution of the properties of Christ to the two natures is strongly reaffirmed: And oftentimes fire in wood, hiding beneath the surface, eludes the senses of sight and even touch, but it is manifested (φανεροῦται) when it emerges; so it is also in the death that the One who has separated the soul from the body chose for Himself by His power. He is the One who said to His Father into your hands I commend my spirit (Luke 23:46) and who, as He said, has power to lay it down, and power to take it up again (John 10:18); He, unconcerned about what is shameful among men because He is the Lord of glory, almost watching over the embers of life with bodily nature in the economy of death (τῇ κατὰ τὸν θάνατον οἰκονομίᾳ), He lit it again and inflamed it with the power of the Divinity itself, heating what had died and thus pouring that little First-Fruit (ἀπαρχήν) of our nature in the infinitude of divine power. And He also converted what had died into what He was, because the Lord took on the form of a slave and made Christ the man born of Mary and Life and Power to Him who was crucified for [its] weakness and did everything else that is contemplated according to piety in the Divine Word in Him who was assumed by the Word. In this way, these properties do not seem to be each on its own according to a certain division, but the mortal nature reconstituted in the union (ἀνακράσει) with the Divine based on the dominant nature (τὸ ἐπικρατοῦν), receives the power of the divinity. As if it were said that the mixture (μίξις) turns the drop (σταγόνα) of vinegar dissolved in the sea into sea water, because the natural quality of this liquid does not remain in the infinitude of the dominant element (τοῦ ἐπικρατοῦντος).38 καὶ ὥσπερ τὸ ἐν τῷ ξύλῳ πῦρ ἐντὸς πολλάκις τῆς ἐπιφανείας κρυπτόμενον λανθάνει τῶν ὁρώντων ἢ καὶ τῶν ἁπτομένων τὴν αἴσθησιν, ἀναζωπυρούμενον δὲ φανεροῦται, οὕτως καὶ ἐν τῷ θανάτῳ ὢν πεποίηται κατ’ ἐξουσίαν ὁ διαζεύξας τὴν ψυχὴν ἀπὸ τοῦ σώματος, ὁ εἰπὼν πρὸς τὸν ἴδιον πατέρα ὅτι Ἐν ταῖς χερσί σου παρατίθεμαι τὸ πνεῦμά μου, ὁ καθώς φησιν ἐξουσίαν ἔχων θεῖναι αὐτὴν καὶ ἐξουσίαν ἔχων πάλιν λαβεῖν αὐτήν· οὗτος ὁ τῆς ἐν ἀνθρώποις αἰσχύνης καταφρονήσας διὰ τὸ εἶναι τῆς δόξης κύριος, οἱονεὶ συγκαλύψας τὸ τῆς ζωῆς ἐμπύρευμα τῇ φύσει τοῦ σώματος ἐν τῇ κατὰ τὸν θάνατον οἰκονομίᾳ πάλιν ἀνῆψέ τε καὶ ἀνεζωπύρησε τῇ δυνάμει τῆς ἰδίας θεότητος, τὸ νεκρωθὲν ἀναθάλψας καὶ οὕτως τῷ ἀπείρῳ τῆς θεϊκῆς δυνάμεως τὴν βραχεῖαν ἐκείνην τῆς φύσεως ἡμῶν ἀπαρχὴν ἀναχέας, ὅπερ αὐτὸς ἦν, τοῦτο κἀκεῖνο ἐποίησε, τὴν δουλικὴν μορφὴν κύριον καὶ τὸν ἄνθρωπον τὸν ἐκ Μαρίας Χριστὸν καὶ τὸν σταυρωθέντα ἐξ ἀσθενείας ζωὴν καὶ δύ ναμιν καὶ πάντα, ὅσα ἐν τῷ θεῷ λόγῳ κατὰ τὸ εὐσεβὲς θεωρεῖται, καὶ ἐν τῷ ἀναληφθέντι παρὰ τοῦ λόγου ποιήσας· ὡς μὴ κατά τινα διαίρεσιν ἰδιαζόντως ἐφ’ ἑκατέρου ταῦτα δοκεῖν εἶναι, ἀλλὰ τῇ πρὸς τὸ θεῖον 38

172

G. MASPERO

The divinization of human nature in Christ cannot be more radically stated. To the extent that the image of the drop of vinegar that is dissolved into the sea can be suspicious.39 Important authors have read it as the sign of a Monophysitic tendency in Gregory or as an example of the imperfection of his Christology.40 However, Jean-René Bouchet’s careful analysis has revealed its true meaning,41 clearing away the danger of wrongfully attributing to Gregory contradictions in his own thought. The sources of this simile are Aristotelian and Stoic,42 but they have some very important differences: Gregory is the only one who prefers the term stagôn to stalagmos, and he is the only one who exclusively considers the mix of vinegar, and not of wine, with saltwater. Jean-René Bouchet has found the likely cause of the first peculiarity in an implicit quotation from Sir. 18:10. The reason for the second is much more interesting: in fact, the mix of vinegar and sea water was considered a medicinal remedy in the Hippocratic tradition and the medical literature, as studied by Gregory.43 The function of the image is therefore clearly soteriological and does not refer to the confusion of the properties of the two natures, but to the mystery of the Cross that made possible the salvation of the human being, through the exchange of the properties between the two natures. Everything tends to manifest the reality of perfect divinization made possible once for all by the economy of salvation. The proximity of the two texts just cited is evident, as the terminology and the reference to ἀπαρχή show.44 A comparison with the first text quoted in the present paper, from page 142 of Edictum rectae fidei where Contra Eunomium III (14,6-15,12; GNO II, 138.28-139.17), that was used by Justinian, clearly shows the possibility of distinguishing the two natures after the union only by reason (epinoia), as did Paul. This is a key element that explains why Justinian had recourse to the Cappadocian Christology to avoid any interpretation of Cyrill in a mere logical way. ἀνακράσει κατὰ τὸ ἐπικρατοῦν ἀναποιηθεῖσαν τὴν ἐπίκηρον φύσιν μεταλαβεῖν τὴν τῆς θεότητος δύναμιν͵ ὡς εἴ τις λέγοι ὅτι τὴν σταγόνα τοῦ ὄξους ἐμμιχθεῖσαν τῷ πελάγει θάλασσαν ἡ μίξις ἐποίησε τῷ μηκέτι τὴν κατὰ φύσιν ποιότητα τοῦ ὑγροῦ τούτου ἐν τῇ ἀπειρίᾳ τοῦ ἐπικρατοῦντος συμμένειν (id., Contra Eunomium III 3, 68,1-69,1; GNO II, 132.7-133.4). 39 The image appears a third time in id., Antirrheticus Adversus Apollinarium III/1, 201,11. 40 See n. 1. 41 See Jean-René Bouchet, ‘À propos d’une image christologique de Grégoire de Nysse’, RThom 67 (1967), 584-8. 42 In his Metaphysics, Aristotle asks himself if water is potentially wine and vinegar (see Aristotle, Metaphysics, 1044b; David Ross, Aristotle’s Metaphysics II [Oxford, 1970]). 43 See J.R. Bouchet, ‘À propos d’une image’ (1967), 586-7. On Gregory’s medical knowledge: José Janini Cuesta, La antropología y la medicina pastoral de san Gregorio de Nisa (Madrid, 1946) and Mary Emily Keenan, ‘St. Gregory of Nyssa and the Medical Profession’, BHMed 15 (1944), 150-61. 44 See Elias D. Moutsoulas, ‘ΑΠΑΡΧΗ. Ein kurzer Überblick über die wesentlichen Bedeutungen des Wortes in heidnischer, jüdischer und christlicher Literatur’, Sacris Erudiri 15 (1964), 5-14.

Re-thinking Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology

173

Without entering into a discussion about the fidelity of Gregory’s description to Apollinaris’ real thought,45 the point is that the bishop of Nyssa is addressing the identification of nous and pneuma. The question is how the different parts of the human being are called and how they are related to God and to Christ. Gregory’s exegesis tries to affirm the identity of both terms with kardia through the connection of John 4:6, Ex. 16:35 and Prov. 1:5. This identity implies that the human nature united to the divine one in Christ should be complete, otherwise the latter would be deprived of both pneuma and intellect. Harking back to the Theou morphê in Phil. 2:6, Gregory says of Paul: Following his teachings, in fact, we believe that [Christ], existing in the form of God according to what the intellect knows (κατὰ τὸ νοούμενον), is born in the form of a slave according to what appears (κατὰ τὸ φαινόμενον). But, if the form of God is higher than the form of the salve, what appears is absolutely not the same as the hidden. Hence the one in the flesh who walked among men had in himself something superior, that is the very accusation cast against the faith by the writer [i.e. Apollinaris]. The Apostle says also that ‘in him dwells the whole fullness of the deity bodily’ (Col. 2:9) and saying ‘in him’ he did not mean the half of what was manifest (δηλουμένου), but included in that word the whole subject (τὸ ὑποκείμενον).46

A clear distinction is present here between what does appear and can be seen, that is humanity, and the divinity itself of Jesus, that cannot be perceived by the senses, being ontologically beyond creation, but can be known through the intellect by its effects. This does correspond to the main methodological step in the theology of the Cappadocians, whose apophaticism implies that the only possible way to divine immanence is the economy. So again Gregory’s criticism on Apollinaris was tied not only to the latter’s Christological position, but also to the core of the Trinitarian doctrine. This is confirmed by the convergence between Gregory of Nyssa’s and Gregory of Nazianzus’ arguments. The latter introduced the idea of perichoresis just in the context of his Antiapollinarist theology, to express the communicatio idiomatum between the divine and the human natures in Christ:47 45 On Apollinaris’ thought, see Johannes Zachhuber, ‘Derivative Genera in Apollinarius of Laodicea: Some remarks on the philosophical coherence of his thought’, in Silke-Petra Bergjan, Benjamin Gleede and Martin Heimgartner (eds), Apollinaris von Laodizäa und die Folgen (Tübingen, 2015), 93-113. 46 παρ’ αὐτοῦ γὰρ τὸ τοιοῦτον μαθόντες πιστεύομεν, ὅτι θεοῦ μορφὴ κατὰ τὸ νοούμενον ὑπάρχων ἐν δούλου μορφῇ κατὰ τὸ φαινόμενον γίνεται. εἰ δὲ προτιμοτέρα ἡ θεία μορφὴ τοῦ δουλικοῦ προσώπου, οὐχ ὁμότιμον πάντως τῷ κρυπτῷ τὸ φαινόμενον. οὐκοῦν τὸ κατὰ σάρκα βλεπόμενον καὶ τοῖς ἀνθρώποις συναναστρεφόμενον εἶχέ τι ἐν ἑαυτῷ ἑαυτοῦ τιμιώτερον, ὅπερ ὁ λογογράφος ἔγκλημα ποιεῖται κατὰ τῆς πίστεως. ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐν αὐτῷ φησιν ὁ ἀπόστολος κατοικεῖν πᾶν τὸ πλήρωμα τῆς θεότητος σωματικῶς· ὁ δὲ ἐν αὐτῷ εἰπὼν οὐ τὸ ἥμισυ τοῦ δηλουμένου ἐσήμανεν, ἀλλ’ ὅλον τὸ ὑποκείμενον τῇ σημασίᾳ συμπεριέλαβεν (Gregory of Nyssa, Antirrheticus adversus Apollinarium, GNO III/1, 173.10-21). 47 John of Damascus will later introduce the term in Trinitarian theology, coherently with the Cappadocian approach (see John of Damascus, De fide orthodoxa, I, 14; SC 535, 218).

174

G. MASPERO

If anyone dare to say that [Christ’s] flesh came down from heaven, is not from earth and from us, be anathema. In fact, the words ‘the second man, from heaven’ (1Cor. 15:47) and ‘as is the heavenly one, so also are the heavenly’ (1Cor. 15:48) and ‘no one has gone up to heaven except the one who has come down from heaven, the Son of Man’ (John 3:13) and similar expressions should be interpreted as pronounced in reference to the union (ἕνωσιν) [of the human nature] with the heavenly (i.e. divine) one. In the same line, also ‘all things came to be through’ (John 1:3) Christ and Christ dwells in our hearts (see Eph. 3:17) should be read not in reference to what appears (κατὰ τὸ φαινόμενον) of God, but of what can be understood (κατὰ τὸ νοούμενον) of Him, because, as the natures are mingled (κιρναμένων), so are the appellations, which mutually interpenetrate (περιχωρουσῶν) according to the principle of their union (συμφυΐας).48

The issues of the pre-existence of Christ in heaven and of the exchange of the properties between the natures are present also here. But the expression κατὰ τὸ νοούμενον, contrasted with κατὰ τὸ φαινόμενον, is worth to be highlighted, as it also has a deep metaphysical background. According to Plotinus in Enneads V 1,4, Intellect is of the order of the act of thinking whereas being is of that of being thought.49 But the ontological framework is completely different, as according to the philosopher only the realm of thought is characterized by identity and difference. Diversity should be one of the first principles with Intellect, Being, Identity, Movement and Quiet. It is precisely diversity that makes possible the act of thinking and of being thought, whereas the One is above all wrapped in silence. The Trinitarian faith and the ontological gap between the Creator and creation imply in Cappadocian theology that the One is in Himself both identity and relational difference. But the divine Persons are absolutely one and do not exist separated, so that only contemplation can get to know them in their mutual distinction. This is the root of the Christological doctrine on the interpenetration of the properties of the two natures in Christ. Gregory of Nyssa, in the third book of Contra Eunomium III, again defends himself from the accusation of believing that there are two Christs and two Lords. His argument is based on John 1:14, where the identity of the Logos who became flesh in the economy and the Logos in the beginning is affirmed.50 But nobody accuses John of teaching that there are two Christs. In fact, his fundamental assertion is that the same Logos who has been manifested in the 48 Εἴ τις λέγοι τὴν σάρκα ἐξ οὐρανοῦ κατεληλυθέναι͵ ἀλλὰ μὴ ἐντεῦθεν εἶναι καὶ παρ’ ἡμῶν͵ ἀνάθεμα ἔστω. Τὸ γὰρ Ὁ δεύτερος ἄνθρωπος ἐξ οὐρανοῦ, καὶ Οἷος ὁ ἐπουράνιος, τοιοῦτοι καὶ οἱ ἐπουράνιοι, καὶ Οὐδεὶς ἀναβέβηκεν εἰς τὸν οὐρανόν, εἰ μὴ ὁ ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ καταβὰς ὁ Υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου, καὶ εἴ τι ἄλλο τοιοῦτον, νομιστέον λέγεσθαι διὰ τὴν πρὸς τὸν οὐράνιον ἕνωσιν, ὥσπερ καὶ τὸ διὰ Χριστοῦ γεγονέναι τὰ πάντα καὶ κατοικεῖν Χριστὸν ἐν ταῖς καρδίαις ἡμῶν, οὐ κατὰ τὸ φαινόμενον τοῦ Θεοῦ, ἀλλὰ κατὰ τὸ νοούμενον, κιρναμένων ὥσπερ τῶν φύσεων, οὕτω δὴ καὶ τῶν κλήσεων καὶ περιχωρουσῶν εἰς ἀλλήλας τῷ λόγῳ τῆς συμφυΐας (Gregory of Nazianzus, Epistulae theologicae 101,30,1-31,6; SC 208, 48). 49 Plotinus, Enneades V 1,4,32-3: ὁ μὲν νοῦς κατὰ τὸ νοεῖν, τὸ δὲ ὂν κατὰ τὸ νοούμενον. 50 See Gregory of Nyssa, Contra Eunomium III 3, 62,1-4; GNO II, 129.23-6.

Re-thinking Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology

175

flesh is identical to the Logos that is with God.51 And as already seen in the discussion with Apollinaris, the flesh has not always been united to the Divinity: The flesh was not identical to the Divinity before having converted itself into the Divinity, so that some things are necessarily proper to the Logos God, and others to the form of the slave.52

Moreover, precisely in the formulation of the indivisible union between Christ’s divine nature and His human nature, Gregory of Nyssa arrives at the apex of his Christology, anticipating clearly, along with its balance, the later developments and the same conclusions of the disputes of the fifth and sixth centuries: The divine nature is always one and the same and equal to itself, while the flesh is in itself that which reason and the meanings of it know. However, once united to the Divine, [the flesh] does not stay within its limitations, but it is assumed in what is predominant and superior, although the intellectual consideration (ἡ θεωρία) of the properties of the flesh and the divinity remains unconfused (ἀσύγχυτος), if each of the two is considered in itself.53

The presence of the adjective asygchytos here should be noted. It will appear as an adverb in the Symbol of Chalcedon, accompanied in Gregory’s text by the affirmation of the possibility of distinguishing the two natures only intellectually, after the union. This text is immediately reminiscent of the form of the theôria monê applied in the seventh canon of the Second Council of Constantinople to the two natures of Christ in the year 553. According to this principle, suffering pertains to the flesh, while the creative act pertains to the Word; in fact, by nature, the flesh cannot create and Divinity cannot suffer.54 In the same way, one has to distinguish between what, during the life of Christ, is a sign of His divinity and what is a sign of His humanity: indeed, it is not human nature that raises Lazarus, nor is it divine nature that cries over his corpse. The multiplication of the loaves of bread is not proper to human nature, nor is weariness from walking.55 Thus, it is clear that

51

See ibid. 3, 62,7-8; GNO II, 130.1-2. ἡ δὲ σὰρξ οὐχ ἡ αὐτὴ τῇ θεότητι πρὶν μεταποιηθῆναι καὶ ταύτην πρὸς τὴν θεότητα, ὡς ἐξ ἀνάγκης ἄλλα μὲν ἐφαρμόζειν τῷ θεῷ λόγῳ, ἕτερα δὲ τῇ τοῦ δούλου μορφῇ (ibid. 3, 62,863,1; GNO II, 130.2-5). 53 ἡ μὲν θεία φύσις ἀεὶ μία καὶ ἡ αὐτὴ καὶ ὡσαύτως ἔχουσα, ἡ δὲ σὰρξ καθ’ ἑαυτὴν μέν ἐστι τοῦτο ὅπερ καταλαμβάνει περὶ αὐτῆς ὁ λόγος τε καὶ ἡ αἴσθησις, ἀνακραθεῖσα δὲ πρὸς τὸ θεῖον οὐκέτι ἐν τοῖς ἑαυτῆς ὅροις τε καὶ ἰδιώμασι μένει, ἀλλὰ πρὸς τὸ ἐπι κρατοῦν τε καὶ ὑπερέχον ἀναλαμβάνεται, διαμένει δὲ ἀσύγχυτος τῶν τε τῆς σαρκὸς καὶ τῶν τῆς θεότητος ἰδιωμάτων ἡ θεωρία, ἕως ἂν ἐφ΄ ἑαυτοῦ θεωρῆται τούτων ἑκάτερον (ibid. 3, 63,7-14; GNO II, 130.11-8). 54 See ibid. 3, 64,4-65,1; GNO II, 130.22-7. 55 See ibid. 3, 65,1-8; GNO II, 130.27-131.5. 52

176

G. MASPERO

the wounds are of the slave in whom is the Lord, while the honors are of the Lord, in connection with which the slave is (περὶ ὃν ὁ δοῦλος). So that, for the connection and connaturality (διὰ τὴν συνάφειάν τε καὶ συμφυΐαν) the effects of each become common to both, because the Lord takes upon Himself what of the slave is fundamental, and the slave is glorified with the honor of the Lord.56

The affirmation of the communicatio idiomatum cannot be clearer. Gregory shows here that the hypostatic union is the reason why the cross of Christ is glorious. Precisely because the Divine has taken on the pain and indigence of the human being, the eternal bursts into the human, making the time of the human being eternal, according to a line of reasoning parallel to the one present in the texts by Gregory quoted by the Emperor Justianian and presented in the previous section of the paper. The present analysis suggests that the answer to the question about why the Cappadocian’s theology was so important for the Second Council of Constantinople of Constantinople should be linked exactly to the presence of terms like epinoia, logos and theôria as equivalent terms to express that the divinity and humanity in Christ can only be perceived in their difference intellectually, in a consideration that avoids confusion (asygchytos) of the properties of the two natures, which have become a single reality out of the love for human beings (philanthrôpia). Gregory’s doctrine on the union of natures in Christ is always considered from the soteriological and dynamic perspective, in such a way that Cyril’s Christology should be read in a realist and not only logical way. This is made possible by the original interplay between Christology and Trinitarian theology in Cappadocian theology itself, where the being distinct but dynamically one in the other of the divine Persons safeguards at the same time the theology of the real distinction of Christ’s nature and their indefectible unity. This profound and intense understanding of the union of the two natures is the hermeneutic key to the terminology of the mixis and the anakrasis, which will then take on an essentially Monophysite derivation, that required Justinian’s chrêsis of the Cappadocians’ theology. So this terminology is an expression of an aspect of Gregory’s Christology, perhaps little studied, which is not only not primitive, but clearly ahead of its time, already formulating very clearly those aspects of the hypostatic union which would be reaffirmed by the Second Council of Constantinople at the end of the era of the Christological disputes even at the terminological level.

56 αἱ μὲν πληγαὶ τοῦ δούλου ἐν ᾧ ὁ δεσπότης, αἱ δὲ τιμαὶ τοῦ δεσπότου περὶ ὃν ὁ δοῦλος· ὡς διὰ τὴν συνάφειάν τε καὶ συμφυΐαν κοινὰ γίνεσθαι τὰ ἑκατέρας ἀμφότερα, τοῦ τε δεσπότου τοὺς δουλικοὺς μώλωπας εἰς ἑαυτὸν ἀναλαμβάνοντος καὶ τοῦ δούλου τῇ δεσποτικῇ δοξαζομένου τιμῇ (ibid. 3, 66,3-8; GNO II, 131.8-13).

Re-thinking Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology

177

4. Conclusion The analysis of how Justinian had recourse to Gregory’s citations57 shows that the theologians of the emperor developed a ‘right use’ (usus iustus, chrêsis orthê, chrêsis dikaia) of the bishop of Nyssa’s doctrine, following the same scheme as Cappadocian Christology, and specifically Gregory, in order to reinterpret in a realistic sense the Cyrilian conception of the distinction between the two natures in the hypostatic union. Only epinoia, logos and theôria can recognize the invisible reality of Christ’s divinity behind the visible properties of Christ’s human nature within the unity founded in His divine Person. This operation has a deep meaning at both the exegetical and the metaphysical level, as research of the foundation of reality below the literal and cosmic dimension. Justinian’s theologians collected in an effective way a series of meaningful citations which express the originality and specificity of Gregory of Nyssa’s Christology, directly influencing the Second Council of Constantinople.58 It seems interesting, however, to point out that the Gregorian text that is closest to the formula of the seventh canon of the Second Council of Constantinople59 (see the quotation relating to n. 52 on p. 175), where Gregory explicitly uses the terminology of theôria, is not cited in the Justinian dossier. Understanding the reason for its absence would require a thorough study of the patristic florilegia that were in circulation in the first half of the sixth century, but that goes beyond the intention of these pages.60 57 It is necessary to add, to the eight citations analyzed, three more texts with no direct connection to the question being discussed. These are the two citations of De hominis opificio (PG 44, 229 and 232-3), which appear in his writings against Origen (88,22 and 88,32 of Mario Amelotti and Livia Migliardi Zingale (eds), Scritti teologici ed ecclesiastici di Giustiniano (Milan, 1977) and a text of In diem natalem Christi (PG 46, 1129), which appears in the Gregorian version of the final writings of Justinian (ibid. 175, no. 2). 58 The main texts of Gregory of Nyssa are also cited in the work of Leontios of Byzantium, as shown by the analysis of the citations of Gregory in his works, see Carlo Dell’Osso, Leonzio di Bisanzio. Le opere (Roma, 2001): the texts in no. 46 at p. 9, no. 26 at p. 6, no. 60 at p. 12 and, above all, the affirmation that only the intellect can distinguish between the two natures, in no. 16 on p. 4 (see p. 89 and p. 146 of Dell’Osso’s book, together with PG 86, 1380A). See also Brian Daley, Leontius of Byzantium: Complete Works (Oxford, 2017). Gregory was a primary source of Leontios, see Emil Dobler, Falsche Väterzitate bei Thomas von Aquin (Freiburg, 2001), 9; James Herbert Srawley, The Catechetical Oration of Gregory of Nyssa (Cambridge, 1956), xv. 59 τῇ θεωρίᾳ μόνῃ τὴν διαφορὰν τοὺτων λαμβάνει, ἐξ ὧν καὶ συνετέθη, οὐκ ἀναιροθμένην διὰ τὴν ἕνωσιν, Giuseppe Alberigo et al. (eds), Conciliorum Oecumenicorum Decreta (Bologna, 1973), 117.28-31. The Latin translation does not perfectly convey the meaning of tê theôria monê: non intellectu tantummodo differentiam excipit earum ex quibus et compositus est, non interemptam propter unitatem. Note that the adverb asygchytôs (117.16) also appears in the same canon, which brings it closer to Gregory’s text. 60 See Theodor Schermann, Die Geschichte der dogmatischen Florilegien vom VI.-VIII. Jahrhundert (Leipzig, 1904) and the study of M. Richard with the cited bibliography: Marcel Richard, ‘Les florilèges diphysites du Ve et du VIe siècle’, in Alois Grillmeier and Heinrich Bacht (eds), Das Konzil von Chalkedon I (Würzburg, 1951), 721-48.

178

G. MASPERO

A brief overview of Gregory of Nyssa’s Christological thought has shown that in the fourth century his doctrine on the hypostatic union had reached a balance and a depth that could only be formally achieved two centuries later, nearly at the end of the era of Christological disputes. Gregory uses terms like mixis and anakrasis, which would take on a Monophysite meaning in the fifth century, but when these expressions are read in the context of the whole of his thought they explains why Justinian had recourse to the Cappadocian doctrine to grant through this chrêsis a realistic interpretation of Cyril’s theology. From this hermeneutic perspective, one can see that these expressions must be interpreted in light of the affirmation that the two natures in the hypostatic union are so intimately and concretely united in the Person of the Son that they can only be recognized in their real distinction by reason, in an analogous way to Trinitarian perichoresis. If it is true, as Pierre-Thomas Camelot has written, that the problem of the difficulties of the interpretation of Chalcedon is due to the absence of a great theologian in the period that followed the Council,61 then it can be said that in the sixth century the emperor had to resort to the great balance and the powerful dogmatic structure of the Cappadocians in order to solve the problem. These conclusions invite scholars to further develop the scholarship and understanding of Gregory’s Christology, which, contrary to popular opinion, offers special value even at the terminological level.

61 See Pierre-Thomas Camelot, ‘Théologies grecques et théologie latine à Chalcédoine’, RSPhTH 35 (1951), 401-12, 412.

Rethinking Evagrius’ Christology Monica TOBON, University College London, UK

ABSTRACT Evagrius’ Christology is widely considered unorthodox by the standards of his own day. Reading the Kephalaia Gnostika from the perspective of the anathemas associated with his condemnation, Antoine Guillaumont argued that for him the subject of the Incarnation is not the Logos but a created nous united to the Logos. He found support for this view in Evagrius’ use of formulae distinguishing Christ from the Logos. Although Guillaumont’s hermeneutic has been critiqued, his conclusions have been widely upheld. The present article argues that Evagrius did not subscribe to preexistence as traditionally but questionably imputed to Origen. His distinction between primary and secondary natures refers to our first and last state and our present state respectively. The nous in the primary nature is our essential being in God, bearing his image, unified in itself and united to God, and pre-existing our fallen condition. The primary nature is compresent with the secondary nature and accessible in the present life. For Christ to be fully human his creaturely nature must encompass both the primary and secondary natures such that the core of the human nature assumed by the Logos is a nous in the primary nature. Once this is clarified, there is less reason to take Evagrius’ Christ-Logos formulae as statements of a dualistic Christology, and Evagrius’ warning against Christological dualism and affirmation that the Logos became flesh and God human point to the need to seek an alternative reading. I propose one, and conclude that Evagrius’ Christology was orthodox by the standards of Constantinople 1.

In his pioneering study of Evagrius’ Kephalaia Gnostika (henceforth KG) Antoine Guillaumont argued that Evagrius taught an Origenist Christology according to which the subject of the Incarnation is not God the Logos but instead a created nous united to the Logos.1 While his hermeneutic of reading of the KG through the lens of the anathemas associated with Evagrius’ condemnation has been critiqued,2 his interpretation of Evagrius’ Christology has been endorsed by the majority of scholars, who accordingly suppose it to be unorthodox by the standard of his own day, that is, by the criteria of the First 1 Antoine Guillaumont, Les “Kephalaia Gnostica” d’Évagre le Pontique et l’histoire de l’origénisme chez les Grecs et chez les Syriens, Patristica Sorbonensia 5 (Paris, 1962), 151-6. 2 See for example Julia Konstantinovsky, Evagrius Ponticus: The Making of a Gnostic (Farnham, 2009), 109-10.

Studia Patristica CXII, 179-186. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

180

M. TOBON

Council of Constantinople (381).3 Most recently Konstantinovsky and Daley, while affirming the orthodox elements they find in it, agree that Evagrius’ Christ is a created nous, Konstantinovsky concluding that ‘despite the closeness of the Christ/Logos union, this is crucially a union of two distinct agents’,4 and Daley speaking of Evagrius’ ‘ultimately dualistic conception of the person of Christ the Saviour as the Logos inhabiting a created intellect’.5 The present article argues that such interpretations are mistaken and that Evagrius’ Christology is indeed orthodox by the criteria of Constantinople 1. We can begin by noting that both the Letter on Faith and the Great Letter clearly affirm that in Christ God became human. In the former, Evagrius exclaims: ‘No wonder he who is the Logos and became flesh confessed that the Father is greater than himself!’6 Like Athanasius, Evagrius maintains that in assuming human flesh God became subject to the pathe belonging to the nature of the flesh, thus he goes on to declare, ‘[God] himself took up our infirmities (astheneias) and bore our sicknesses (nosous) … So, then, the Lord made his own those difficulties that surround us by taking to himself our pathe through communion (koinōnias) with us’.7 The Great Letter includes an extended discussion of how God was ‘born from a woman’.8 ‘While being what he is’, says Evagrius, ‘in his grace [he] received at his birth everything that follows from birth to death’.9 Thus he declares ‘God, who loves humans, became human’, and again, ‘God became a human while still being God’.10 As regards Christ’s humanity, since Evagrius never speaks of the nous of Christ11 nor discusses Christ’s human constitution, we must proceed from what 3

See François de Refoulé, ‘La Christologie d’Évagre et l’Origénisme’, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 27 (1961), 221-66; Aloys Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition, vol. 1, translated by John Bowden (Louisville, 1975), 377-84; John Eudes Bamberger, Evagrius Ponticus: The Praktikos and Chapters on Prayer, Cistercian Studies 4 (Kalamazoo, 1981), xxxiii; Francis Kline, ‘The Christology of Evagrius and the Parent System of Origen’, Cistercian Studies 20 (1985), 155-83; Paul Géhin, Évagre le Pontique: Scholies aux Proverbes, SC 340 (Paris, 1987), 50-1. The consensus has been challenged by Gabriel Bunge, ‘Hénade ou Monade? Au sujet de deux notions centrales de la terminologie évagrienne’, Le Muséon 102 (1989), 69-91; Augustine M. Casiday, Reconstructing the Theology of Evagrius Ponticus: Beyond Heresy (Cambridge, 2013); Ilaria L.E. Ramelli, Evagrius’ Kephalaia Gnostika: A New Translation of the Unreformed Text from the Syriac, Writings from the Greco-Roman World 38 (Atlanta, 2015), lxiv-lxviii. 4 J. Konstantinovsky, Evagrius (2009), 146. 5 Brian E. Daley, ‘Evagrius and Cappadocian Orthodoxy’, in Joel Kalvesmaki and Robin Darling Young (eds), Evagrius and his Legacy (Notre Dame, 2016), 34-48, 31. 6 Evagrius, Letter on Faith 17, trans. Augustine M. Casiday, Evagrius Ponticus, The Early Church Fathers (London, 2006), 45-58. 7 Evagrius, Letter on Faith 28; cf. Matt. 8:17; Isa. 53:4. 8 Evagrius, Great Letter 57, trans. A.M. Casiday, Evagrius Ponticus (2006), 45-58; Gal. 4:4. 9 Evagrius, Great Letter 57. 10 Evagrius, Great Letter 59. 11 See also Luke Dysinger, Psalmody and Prayer in the Writings of Evagrius Ponticus, Oxford Theological Monographs (Oxford, 2005), 211. Guillaumont believed Kephalaia Gnostika 1.77 to refer to the nous of Christ (Les “Kephalaia Gnostica” [1962], 152), but Dysinger has shown

Rethinking Evagrius’ Christology

181

we know of his protology and anthropology. I have argued elsewhere that the conventional supposition that Evagrius like Origen maintained the pre-existence of the nous is essentially false if understood to refer to a prelapsarian state of disembodiment.12 Whether or not Origen himself believed this is disputed,13 and Evagrius himself never speaks of pre-existence but instead distinguishes between primary and secondary natures, the former our prelapsarian and eschatological condition, the latter our present condition. The primary nature is the original state of creation and prior to time and space. In it a human being is a logikon: a nous bearing the image of God, perfectly united to God, perfectly unified in itself and furnished with an incorruptible and immortal instrument which is a body in all but name and elemental constitution, and which being free from pathos is incorporeal in the sense of being light (both in density and luminosity) and subtle.14 The fall was precipitated by a slackening of the directedness of the nous toward God; that is, a cooling of its ardour for him. Since the nous depends for its existence and life (along with all other goods) upon participation in God, when it deflected from him in what Evagrius calls the movement corruptibility entered the created order as pathos and propagated through it, resulting in the secondary nature. Pathos manifests in the nous as ignorance, in the soul as the ethical pathe, and in the instrument as its becoming a body characterised by mortality, corruptibility, and associated vulnerabilities, reflecting Paul’s doctrine that death came through sin.15 Due to the presence in them of pathos, bodies in the secondary nature are corporeal in the sense of being relatively heavy, dark, and cold. Every human being is both a nous in the primary nature and a mortally embodied soul in the secondary nature. The primary nature is compresent with the secondary nature as the locus of our essential being in God. It is accessible in this life through prayer, contemplation, and conformity of body, soul, and nous to Christ. To live from its perspective is the goal of the monastic life and of the Christian life per se. From the fact that every human being is both a nous in the primary nature and a mortally embodied soul in the secondary nature, it follows that in his humanity Christ must be likewise. I take it therefore that when God created the his reading to be erroneous (Psalmody and Prayer [2005], 207-11), a conclusion endorsed by J. Konstantinovsky, Evagrius (2009), 143, and I.L.E. Ramelli, Evagrius’ Kephalaia Gnostika (2015), 73. 12 Monica Tobon, Apatheia and Anthropology in Evagrius of Pontus: Restoring the Image of God (London, 2020), Chapter 3, ‘Protology and Eschatology’. 13 See for example Peter W. Martens, ‘Embodiment, Heresy, and the Hellenization of Christianity: the Descent of the Soul in Origen and Plato’, Harvard Theological Review 108 (2015), 594-620, 611, n. 61, for a list of publications on both sides of the debate. For the view that the nous was always embodied, see also Ilaria L.E. Ramelli, ‘“Preexistence of Souls”? The archē and telos of Rational Creatures in Origen and Some Origenians’, SP 56 (2013), 167-226. But again, see below, note 29. 14 For the relation between this instrument and the body see also below, note 28. 15 See Rom. 5:12.

182

M. TOBON

primary nature the second person of the Trinity assumed creaturely nature within it as a logikon. As the creaturely embodiment of the Logos, the Christlogikon mediated between God and the created order before the movement.16 When the other logika deflected from God, he did not; that is, the creaturely nature of Christ remained perfectly united to his divine nature. Whereas the other logika fell into ensoulment and mortal embodiment, the Christ-logikon freely assumed them for the sake of their salvation. In his mortal human nature he was, like the rest of humankind, a secondary nature. This clarifies some Christological chapters in the sixth century of the KG. Chapters 6.14, 6.16, 6.18, and 6.20 form a chain. Initiating it, KG 6.14 is dialectical in its structure, comprising, as Ramelli has shown, Evagrius’ refutation of the twofold denial of Christ’s divinity which constitutes its opening sentence:17 Christ is not consubstantial (homoousios) with the Trinity; indeed, he is not essential gnosis as well.

The chapter continues: But Christ is the only one who always and inseparably possesses essential gnosis in himself. What I claim is that Christ is the one who went together with God the Logos; in spirit, Christ is the Lord [that is, God]. He is inseparable from his mortal body and in unity is consubstantial with the Father.

It comprises the following propositions: (i) Christ is not consubstantial with the Trinity. (ii) Christ is not essential gnosis as well. (iii) Christ is the only one who always and inseparably possesses essential gnosis in himself. (iv) Christ is the one who went together with God the Logos. (v) In spirit, Christ is the Lord [sc. God]. (vi) Christ is inseparable from his mortal body. (vii) In unity Christ is consubstantial with the Father. Propositions (i) and (ii) deny Christ’s divinity in terms of two different ways of expressing it: the homoousion and his status in respect of essential gnosis, the former the standard Nicene formula, the latter referring to Evagrius’ understanding of God as essential gnosis (gnōsis ousiōdes).18 Propositions (iii) to (vii) are the steps by which Evagrius refutes this denial, not by contradicting (i) and (ii) but by qualifying them. 16

Thus for Evagrius God assumed creaturely nature before the fall, not because of it. See I.L.E. Ramelli, Evagrius’ Kephalaia Gnostika (2015), 323-4. I follow her translation, with slight amendment. For a different reading of KG 6.14 see J. Konstantinovsky, Evagrius Ponticus (2009), 144-5. 18 See Kephalaia Gnostika 1.89; 2.47; 4.77; 5.55, 56, 81; 6.28, 34; cf. also 3.3, 12, 49; 6.10, 73, with the commentary by I.L.E. Ramelli, Evagrius’ Kephalaia Gnostika (2015). 17

Rethinking Evagrius’ Christology

183

Proposition (iii) asserts that Christ is not essential gnosis but enjoys a relation of unique and permanent intimacy with it. Given that God alone is essential gnosis,19 it opens up a gap between Christ and God. It has analogues in the Letter on Faith and KG 6.18: From the Letter on Faith: (iii.a) [Christ] has God the Logos within himself.20

From KG 6.18: (iii.b) Together with [Christ’s coming to] being, also God the Logos has dwelt in him

If (iii)’s assertion that Christ ‘possesses essential gnosis in himself’ means that Christ is not himself essential gnosis, then (iii.a) and (iii.b) surely mean that Christ is not himself God the Logos. We seem to be heading towards the dualistic Christology imputed to Evagrius by Guillaumont et al. This impression finds further support in proposition (iv), an instance of a type of Christ-Logos formula which occurs several times in Evagrius’ Scholia on Psalms, is cited by Guillaumont in support of his argument,21 and understood by Konstantinovsky to ‘expressly suggest not the identity of subject between Christ and the Logos but rather a union of two distinct subjects’.22 But then what are we to make of Evagrius’ assertions that the Logos became flesh, and God took up our infirmities, was born from a woman, became human, and became a human while still being God? Could Evagrius intend (iii), (iii.a), (iii.b) and (iv) to be read in a manner consistent with these statements? Having clarified the sense in which Christ’s nature incorporates a created nous and thereby discounted the supposition that Evagrius’ Christ is an ‘Origenist’ pre-existent nous united to the Logos, we have lost a fundamental support for reading them in terms of a two-subject Christology, and that such a reading would be mistaken is the clear import of the next chapter in the chain, KG 6.16: Christ is that (person) who, from the essential gnosis and from the incorporeal nature and the corporeal one, has manifested himself to us. Now, that (person) who says ‘two Christs’ or ‘two Sons’ is like that (person) who calls the wise and their wisdom ‘two wise’ or ‘two wisdoms’.23

The first sentence affirms that Christ unites within himself God (‘essential gnosis’), the primary nature (‘the incorporeal nature’), and the secondary nature (‘the corporeal nature’). The second sentence states the corollary, that to think of Christ in dualistic terms would be to commit absurdity: if he unites within 19

See Kephalaia Gnostika 1.89; 2.47; 4.77; 5.56; 6.10; also 5.55, Great Letter 66. Evagrius, Letter on Faith 15. 21 A. Guillaumont, Les “Kephalaia Gnostica” (1962), 153. 22 J. Konstantinovsky, Evagrius Ponticus (2009), 145. 23 My thanks to Sebastian Brock for clarifying the translation of this chapter. For further discussion see M. Tobon, Apatheia and Anthropology (2020), Chapter 4, ‘Christ’. 20

184

M. TOBON

himself God and the created order in both its natures he cannot be a duality, a ‘two’.24 So why does Evagrius speak of Christ and God – that is, Christ and the Logos, and Christ and essential gnosis – as distinct? I have argued elsewhere with reference to the Psalm scholia in which it appears that the Christ-Logos formula in proposition (iv) alludes not to the relation between Christ and the Logos understood as two distinct agents25 but rather to the anointing denoted by the name ‘Christ’ and bestowed upon Christ’s creaturely nature by the Logos.26 Once we recognise Evagrius’ concern to highlight this anointing it can also illuminate propositions (iii), (iii.a) and (iii.b). But two additional considerations can also be noted. One is Evagrius’ concern, ‘when confessing the Son of God’, to avoid ‘introducing number or creature’, and thus ‘a material and circumscribed nature’.27 To elide the distinction between Christ’s divinity and humanity by asserting or implying the identity simpliciter of Christ with God would be to do precisely that. The other is Evagrius’ understanding of pathos as essentially the corruptibility attendant upon privation of God the source of all life, from which it follows that the idea of God becoming mortal involves an acute antithesis. In becoming human God did not simply become a creature – he had already done that in the primary nature, which being free from pathos is wholly receptive to him – but a creature for whom death is mixed into the very fabric of their body. Although pathos is not sin, it is the consequence of sin, and given its inherence in the flesh to say that the Logos became flesh is to say that in Christ’s humanity God became corruptibility. It is, in other words, a stark contradiction, and as such strictly incoherent. Accepting as an article of faith the statement that the Logos became flesh, Evagrius is trying to cash it out in a way that ensures its logical coherence – that is, its semantic conformity to the Logos. So while I take proposition (iv) to refer specifically to Christ’s anointing, formulae such as (iii), (iii.a) and (iii.b) may be motivated additionally or instead by the imperative to avoid both the diminishing of divinity implied by ‘introducing number or creature’ to God and the contradiction inherent in the assertion that God became mortal. KG 6.16 shows that he recognised the potential for misunderstanding attendant upon all such formulations. Returning now to KG 6.14, I take it that the interlocutor accepts that Christ was truly subject to pathos and like Evagrius considers it incoherent to predicate pathos of the Logos. But unlike Evagrius, he therefore denies Christ’s divinity. The remaining propositions represent Evagrius’ attempt to explain how Christ can indeed be both true God and true human. Propositions (iii) and 24 25 26 27

For a different reading of KG 6.16 see J. Konstantinovsky, Evagrius Ponticus (2009), 147. Pace J. Konstantinovsky, Evagrius Ponticus (2009), 145. See M. Tobon, Apatheia and Anthropology (2020), Chapter 4, ‘Christ’. Evagrius, Letter on Faith 8.

Rethinking Evagrius’ Christology

185

(iv) highlight the distinction between his divine and mortal natures, while proposition (vi) affirms his full humanity and so refers to the secondary nature. Propositions (v) and (vii) locate his divinity and consubstantiality with the Father ‘in spirit’ and ‘in unity’ respectively. Both refer to the primary nature: in the primary nature, that is, in spirit, Christ is Lord, and again, in the primary nature, that is, in unity, Christ is consubstantial with the Father. In other words, God is present in the primary nature as the Christ-logikon.28 This in turn makes the relation between Christ’s divinity and his humanity a special case of the relation between the primary and secondary natures, in the process affirming the ontological continuity between the Logos and his human flesh since as a privation of the primary nature the secondary nature is ontologically continuous with it. At this point we can note that the first sentence of KG 6.16, ‘Christ is the one who, from the essential gnosis and from the incorporeal nature and the corporeal one, has manifested himself to us’, recapitulates the Christology of KG 6.14 and is in line with Constantinople 1’s understanding of Christ’s nature, summarised in the synodical letter as follows: In the Lord’s assumption of humanity (enanthrōpēsis), the economy of his flesh was not without soul (apsuchon) nor without nous (anous) nor incomplete (atelē) … he became fully human (teleios anthrōpos) for the sake of our salvation.29

Christ is God (‘the Lord’). In his assumption of humanity the economy of his flesh was not without soul (his flesh and soul being secondary natures), nor was he without nous (his primary nature). Uniting in himself God-Logosessential gnosis and the primary and secondary creaturely natures, he was not incomplete. In him God became fully human. KG 6.16 having affirmed Christ’s essential unity and warned against imputing duality to him, the chain continues with KG 6.18: There was a time when Christ did not possess a body. But there was no time when in him there was not God the Logos. For together with his (coming to) being, also God the Logos has dwelt in him.30 28

This solution to the problem of the relation between Christ’s divine and creaturely natures is free from the difficulties associated with God’s assumption of mortal nature but raises its own. We can however note in passing that for Evagrius the nous as the image of the infinite God is itself infinite and its instrument, being enformed by the unified nous and therefore perfectly transparent to it, does not exist as a distinct, circumscribed entity. A logikon is not a nous plus a body but rather a nous with an instrument wholly conformed to it. Only in the fall does that instrument become a body, understood by Evagrius to mean an apparently distinct entity. In other words, ‘body’ is for him primarily a gnoseological category and only secondarily an ontological one. See M. Tobon, Apatheia and Anthropology (2020), Chapter 3, ‘Protology and Eschatology’. 29 Norman Tanner (ed.), Conciliorum oecumenicorum decreta. Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, vol. 1: Nicea to Lateran V (Washington, DC, 1990), 28. 30 Kephalaia Gnostika 6.18.

M. TOBON

186

Prior to assuming human nature Christ did not possess a body, but from the (non-temporal) moment that God assumed creaturely nature Christ came into being as a logikon in whom God the Logos dwells. The ‘in him’ formula serves here to avoid eliding his creaturely and divine natures. The chain concludes with KG 6.20: Before the movement God was good and powerful and wise, and creator of incorporeal beings, and father of rational creatures, and omnipotent. But after the movement God has become creator of bodies, and judge and ruler and physician, and merciful and patient, and also door/gate, way, lamb, high priest, together with the other epithets that are said in modes. But Father and Principle he is also before the creation of the incorporeal beings: Father of Christ, Principle of the Holy Spirit.31

Here the divinity and sonship of Christ are affirmed through God’s being identified as the bearer of Christ’s epinoiai. God exists as Trinity before undertaking the creation of the world. In relation to the primary nature he is the good, powerful, wise, and omnipotent Creator, while after the movement he becomes, in Christ, the creator and ruler of the secondary nature, wherein for our salvation he acts as our merciful and patient physician, the door through which we regain access to the primary nature, and the sacrificial lamb and high priest who enable us to pass through it. In conclusion, misunderstanding of Evagrius’ protology has lent support to the idea that his formulae distinguishing Christ from God propound a twosubject Christology despite his clear warning against imputing duality to Christ and insistence that in Christ the Logos became flesh and God became human. By clarifying his protology, its relation to his Christology, and the significance of his apparently dualistic Christological formulae this paper has argued that his Christology is in fact orthodox according to the criteria of Constantinople 1, and while it remains in need of further elucidation it is to be hoped that this clarification will help to free him from the long shadow of his condemnation and the tenacious spectre of ‘Origenism’.

31

See Evagrius, Letter on Faith 27.

From the Hypostatic Union to Person-Hypostasis. On the Interplay between Identity-Language Christology and Composition-Language Christology in Cyril of Alexandria and Maximus the Confessor Marius PORTARU, Rome, Italy

ABSTRACT In the present study I draw the outline of two Christological frameworks, the identitylanguage Christology and the composition-language Christology. They appear well marked during the dispute between Cyril of Alexandria and the Antiochian theologians, such as Nestorius and Theodoret of Cyrrhus. The identity-language Christology, characteristic of Cyril, is best expressed in his concept of union according to Hypostasis, and it starts approaching the mystery of Jesus Christ from the unity of person, thus representing a personalist approach. The alternative is a substantialist approach, which understands Christ from the angle of the two natures which are joined together in union. After describing the pitfalls of both approaches, I move to the Christology of Maximus the Confessor, who adopts Cyril’s identity-language and develops it through new concepts, such as composite hypostasis and theandric activity, which Maximus inherits from the six-century theologians Leontius of Jerusalem and Dionysius the Ps.-Areopagite, respectively. In Ambigua ad Thomam, Maximus arrives at a splendid articulation of the identity-language Christology, which is relevant for our contemporary discussion concerning the relationship between person and nature. More specifically, Maximus introduces the concept of natural energy/activity, which in turn leads to a threefold distinction: person – nature, nature – natural energies/activities, and person – natural energies/activities. From Cyril’s initial union according to Hypostasis, which presupposes a real distinction between person and nature, as it is manifest in his theopaschite doctrine, we arrive, with Maximus, at an elaborate ontological understanding of the Person-Hypostasis of Jesus Christ, which strengthens the surprising aptitudes of identity-language Christology.

Introduction The second international Symposium on St Maximus the Confessor (Belgrade, October 2012) has revived a great interest in Maximus’ Christology, and especially in his conception of the individual (hypostasis), studied against the more general theological problem concerning the relationship between person and nature.1 While 1 John Zizioulas, ‘Person and Nature in the Theology of St Maximus the Confessor’, in Maxim Vasiliević (ed.), Knowing the Purpose of Creation through the Resurrection. Proceedings of the

Studia Patristica CXII, 187-207. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

188

M. PORTARU

it is the anthropological search for this relationship which draws our attention to Maximus’ Christology nowadays, in Maximus’ time it was the Christological debate which prompted incidental anthropological reflection. My aim in this article is not so much to re-consider the meaning of hypostasis, and hence, of the kind of relationship Maximus establishes between person and nature; rather, to this ongoing discussion, which is far from approaching its end, I would like to contribute a number of reflections centred on the proposed distinction between the identity-language Christology and the composition-language Christology, two styles of Christology that Maximus inherits primarily from St Cyril of Alexandria and secondarily from theologians of the sixth and seventh centuries. These two Christological styles represent two diverse approaches to the mystery of Jesus Christ, two Christological frameworks, and, as such, they set the context in which Maximus develops his understanding of hypostasis. In what follows, I argue that Maximus’ primary Christological framework is the identity-language Christology, a direct, but more developed, inheritance of Cyril’s fundamental intuition: the starting-point in Christology is the PersonHypostasis of the divine pre-existing Logos of God the Father. This kind of starting-point is therefore personalist, but not in the sense of 20th-century personalism, since Cyril’s and Maximus’ Person-Hypostasis is not devoid of or opposed to its ontological content.

Identity-Language in Cyril of Alexandria: the Union according to Hypostasis and the Clear-Cut Distinction between Hypostasis and Nature The clash between Cyril of Alexandria and the Antiochian Nestorius of Constantinople will mark the entire course of Christology up to the seventh century Symposium on St Maximus the Confessor, Belgrade, October 18-21, 2012 (Alhambra, 2013), 85-113; Brian E. Daley, ‘Maximus Confessor, Leontius of Byzantium, and the Late Aristotelian Metaphysics of the Person’, in ibid., 55-70; Torstein Theodore Tollefsen, ‘St Maximus’ Concept of a Human Hypostasis’, in ibid., 115-27; Dionysios Skliris, ‘“Hypostasis”, “Person”, “Individual”, “Mode”: a Comparison between the Terms that Denote Concrete Being in St Maximus’ Theology’, in ibid., 437-50; Andrew Louth, ‘St Maximos’ Distinction between λόγος and τρόπος and the Ontology of the Person’, in Sotiris Mitralexis et al. (eds), Maximus the Confessor as a European Philosopher, Veritas 25 (Eugene, 2017), 157-65; Georgi Kapriev, ‘The Conceptual Apparatus of Maximus the Confessor and Contemporary Anthropology’, in ibid., 166-92; Marcin Podbielski, ‘The Face of the Soul, the Face of God: Maximus the Confessor and πρόσωπον’, in ibid., 193-228; Anna Zhyrkova, ‘From Christ to Human Individual: Christ as Ontological Paradigm in Early Byzantine Thought’, SP 90 (2017), 25-47; Marcin Podbielski, ‘A Picture in Need of a Theory: Hypostasis in Maximus the Confessor’s Ambigua ad Thomam’, SP 90 (2017), 57-79; Jean-Claude Larchet, ‘Hypostasis, Person and Individual according to St Maximus the Confessor, with reference to the Cappadocians and St John of Damascus’, in Alexis Torrance and Symeon Paschalidis (eds), Personhood in the Byzantine Christian Tradition. Early, Medieval, and Modern Perspectives (London, 2018), 47-67 (with bibliography).

From the Hypostatic Union to Person-Hypostasis

189

and even up to our own day.2 Since Antiochian Christology, as represented by Nestorius, appeared to promote an ambiguous two-sons Christology, the question concerning the identity of Jesus Christ was at the forefront: whose Son is Jesus Christ? Who is Jesus Christ? Cyril’s unambiguous answer was that Christ is the Son of God, consubstantial with the Father, the divine Logos incarnate.3 Cyril (re)introduced the word ὑπόστασις, which in Cappadocian trinitarian terminology designated the reality of the divine Persons, into Christology.4 This transfer of terminology is visible in the concept of union according to hypostasis, which is employed for the first time in Cyril’s Second Epistle to Nestorius: three times in verbal or narrative form (‘the Logos united to Himself according to hypostasis flesh animated by a rational soul’)5 and once in substantival form (‘union according to hypostasis’).6 This terminology was foreshadowed in To the Monks of Egypt, where Cyril referred to ‘the living and enhypostatic Logos of the Father’.7 Though a good number of scholars interpret Cyril’s ‘union according to hypostasis’ as signifying merely a real or true union,8 I would like to argue instead that Cyril’s ‘union according to Hypostasis’ must be understood in its full, personalist sense, that is, as referring to a union, on the one hand, taking place between the divine Logos and ‘the flesh’ (the human nature), and on the other hand, taking place in the Hypostasis of the divine Logos (Col. 1:17).9 2 For instance, Aaron Riches, Ecce Homo. On the Divine Unity of Christ (Grand Rapids, MI, 2016), 9-15, 34-41 proposes a revival of Cyril’s unitive Christology against Karl Rahner’s phantasy of an orthodox Nestorius. 3 In at least one occasion, at Matt. 16:13-20 (shorter parallel accounts at Mk. 8:27-30 and Lk. 9:18-21), Jesus teaches Christology to His disciples, which is articulated as revolving around the question of identity – the identity of Jesus is known by recognition and divine revelation within inter-personal relationship. Jn. 1:14-5 reiterates the declaration of the identity of Jesus by John the Baptist (v. 15), and expresses it in a more philosophical way, ‘the Logos became flesh’ (v. 14), while Heb. 1:3 declares the Son ‘the brilliance of the glory of God and the stamp of his nature (χαρακτὴρ τῆς ὑποστάσεως αὐτοῦ)’. 4 See Marcel Richard, ‘L’introduction du mot «hypostase» dans la théologie de l’incarnation’, MSR 2 (1945), 5-32, 243-70, 244. 5 σάρκα ἐψυχωμένην ψυχῇ λογικῇ ἑνώσας ὁ Λόγος ἑαυτῷ καθ’ ὑπόστασιν ἀφράστως τε καὶ ἀπερινοήτως γέγονεν ἄνθρωπος (ACO 1.1.1, 26.27-8); ἑνώσας ἑαυτῷ καθ’ ὑπόστασιν τὸ ἀνθρώπινον προῆλθεν ἐκ γυναικός (ACO 1.1.1, 27.10-1); τοῦ ἁγίου σώματος ψυχωθέντος λογικῶς, ᾧ καὶ καθ’ ὑπόστασιν ἑνωθεὶς ὁ Λόγος γεγεννῆσθαι λέγεται κατὰ σάρκα (ACO 1.1.1, 28.20-2). 6 τὴν καθ᾽ὑπόστασιν ἕνωσιν (ACO 1.1.1, 28.7). 7 ὁ ζῶν τε καὶ ἐνυπόστατος αὐτοῦ [πατρὸς] Λόγος, ch. 12 (ACO 1.1.1, 15.9). 8 This line of interpretation extends from Joseph Lebon, Le monophysisme Sévérien (Louvain, 1909), 291-2 and M. Richard, ‘L’introduction du mot «hypostase»’ (1945), 250-2 to Alois Grillmeier, Jesus der Christus im Glauben der Kirche, 1 (Freiburg, 1979), 685-6 and Hans van Loon, The Diophysite Christology of Cyril of Alexandria, Supplements to Vigiliae Christianae 96 (Leiden, 2009), 519. 9 Studies approximating this interpretation are John Anthony McGuckin, St Cyril of Alexandria. The Christological Controversy, 2nd ed. (Crestwood, 2004), 212 and Thomas G. Weinandy, ‘Cyril

190

M. PORTARU

My reading is backed by the following evidence: (a) the emphasis on the Subject of the Incarnation through the use of the reflexive pronoun in the narrative form (σάρκα ἑνώσας ὁ Λόγος ἑαυτῷ καθ᾽ὑπόστασιν). (b) Cyril resorts to a different concept, ‘natural union’ (ἕνωσις φυσική), to designate the reality of the union as opposed to a relational or volitional one. Indeed, in the Third Epistle to Nestorius and the 12 Chapters,10 ‘union according to Hypostasis’ and ‘natural union’ are not synonymous, not only because ὑπόστασις is not synonymous with φύσις in these writings, but especially because Cyril employs them with a systematically different meaning: through union according to Hypostasis, he intends to say that the union between the Logos and the flesh takes place in the unique Hypostasis of the divine Logos, while through natural union he describes the mode of the union of the two natures against Nestorius’ division. In this context, the expression ἑνοῖ τὰς φύσεις11 refers to a union of the two natures, but the union according to Hypostasis describes the union of the Logos with the flesh. Moreover, it is the natural union, not the union according to Hypostasis, which is systematically opposed to the various Antiochian modes of the joining together of the two natures. When Cyril wants to outline that the union between the Logos and the flesh is true and real, he says it directly: ἑνότητα τὴν ἀληθινήν,12 καθ᾽ἕνωσιν ἀληθῆ.13 Only if the Incarnation is conceived of as a union between the divine Logos and the flesh taking place in the Logos Himself, that is, being according to Hypostasis, can it be true and also ‘natural’, bringing the divine and the human natures to a unity without separation or confusion in the one and the same pre-existing Son of God. (c) My third argument is supplied by Cyril’s central and distinctly significant doctrine of the appropriation of the flesh by the Logos. Essentially, such a concept of appropriation conveys more than a personal relating to something or more than a mere assumption of the human nature, it describes a personal becoming of the divine pre-existing Logos: the Logos becomes flesh and the flesh becomes His very own, so it is possible to say that the Logos is His own flesh in every respect. Cyril’s vocabulary in the Second Epistle to Nestorius is telling: τῆς ἰδίας σαρκὸς τὴν γέννησιν οἰκειούμενος (ch. 4); τὸ γεγονὸς αὐτοῦ ἴδιον σῶμα (ch. 5); μὴ ἀλλότριον τοῦ Λόγου τὸ σῶμα αὐτοῦ (ch. 6); ἴδιον σῶμα τὸ ἡμῶν ἐποιήσατο (ch. 7); it will remain unchanged throughout his subsequent works.

and the Mystery of the Incarnation’, in id. and Daniel A. Keating (eds), The Theology of St Cyril of Alexandria (London, New York, 2003), 23-54, 41. 10 ACO 1.1.1, 36; 40. 11 ACO 1.1.1, 36.15. 12 ACO 1.1.1, 27.2. 13 ACO 1.1.6, 33.5.

From the Hypostatic Union to Person-Hypostasis

191

Cyril’s doctrine of appropriation represents a heritage from the previous Alexandrian tradition,14 especially from Athanasius of Alexandria,15 a heritage which Cyril develops considerably within the Christological debate with Nestorius,16 and which post-Chalcedonian theologians will take up, as we will see below. The doctrine of appropriation constitutes one of the pillars of Cyril’s Christology and it is unseparable from the concept of the union according to Hypostasis. For our present purposes, it is important to mention that the doctrine of the appropriation of the flesh by the divine Logos shows us that, in Cyril’s view, the Hypostasis of the Logos is not the outcome of the union of the two natures, because He pre-exists to His union with the human nature, being the eternal Son of the Father. Consequently, the starting point of Cyril’s Christology are not the two natures and their union, but the very Hypostasis of the divine preexistent Logos, Who freely, out of love for fallen humankind, makes His own or appropriates the flesh (the human nature) together with its post-lapsarian weaknesses, to heal them ontologically in Himself and to teach us the love for and obedience to God the Father in this ‘body of sin’ (Rom. 6:6). Especially in ch. 6 of his Second Epistle to Nestorius, Cyril uses almost synonymously the concept of the appropriation of the flesh and the concept of the union according to Hypostasis, implying by this that the condition for the possibility of the appropriation of the flesh by the Logos is the union according to Hypostasis of the Logos with the flesh, that is, a union accomplished in the unique Hypostasis of the divine Logos: ‘we worship One and the same because the body of the Logos, with which He shares the Father’s throne, was not alien to Him. Again, this does not mean two sons were sharing the throne, but One, because of the union with the flesh. But if we reject this hypostatic union as either impossible or unfitting, then we fall into saying there are two sons’.17 We may see now why the doctrine of the appropriation of the flesh by the Logos implies the personalist meaning of the union according to Hypostasis as an ontological union taking place in the Hypostasis of the pre-existent Son of the Father, and not merely the impersonal-adverbial meaning of a true union. (d) The fourth and strongest argument, in my opinion, is Cyril’s orthodox theopaschism. There is a heterodox theopaschism, according to which the 14 See Andrew Louth, ‘The Use of the Term ἴδιος in Alexandrian Theology from Alexander to Cyril’, SP 19 (1989), 198-202. 15 The locus classicus in Athanasius, which influenced Cyril more than other instances of appropriation in On the Incarnation (ch. 8 and 20) or Against the Arians, is To Epictetus 6 (PG 26, 1060B-1061A). For Athanasius, the natural attributes of the human body become, through appropriation, natural to the incorporeal divine Logos: ἰδιοποιεῖτο τὰ τοῦ σώματος ἴδια, ὡς ἑαυτοῦ ὁ Λόγος ὁ ἀσώματος (1060B). 16 For a brief theological analysis, see Bernard Meunier, Le Christ de Cyrille d’Alexandrie. L’humanité, le salut et la question monophysite, Théologie historique 104 (Paris, 1997), 264-73. 17 Trans. McGuckin, St Cyril (2004), 264.

192

M. PORTARU

divine nature becomes passible in the Incarnation – this is rightly rejected by Nestorius and the Antiochians; and there is Cyril’s orthodox theopaschism, based on two principles: (i) it is the Logos, not the divine nature, who suffers; (ii) the divine Logos suffers in the flesh. Cyril connects closely the doctrine of appropriation with the theopaschite doctrine, and, in order to express the latter in an orthodox manner, makes an unmistakable distinction between the Logos’ own divine nature and the Person of the Logos, who appropriates the natural passions of the assumed flesh. This allows him to reply to Nestorius that it is not the divine nature which suffers (= heterodox theopaschism), but the divine Person of the Logos suffers truly, because He appropriated willingly the natural passions of the body (human nature), with which He is united according to Hypostasis. Only in this sense can we affirm that God suffers in the flesh (= orthodox theopaschism): ‘So it is we say that he both suffered and rose again; not meaning that the Logos of God suffered in his own nature either the scourging, or the piercing of the nails, or the other wounds, for the divinity is impassible because it is incorporeal. But in so far as that which had become his own body suffered, then he himself is said to suffer these things for our sake, because the Impassible One was in the suffering body (ὁ ἀπαθὴς ἐν τῷ πάσχοντι σώματι)’.18 Perhaps the best illustration of the personalism implicit in the theopaschite doctrine is found in the problem of the second birth of the pre-existing Logos. Nestorius rejects the title θεοτόκος because, in his view, it would imply that the Virgin Mary gave birth to the divine nature; Cyril replies that she gave birth only to the divine Son of the Father, who receives a second birth according to the flesh: ‘since He became flesh, that is, was united to flesh endowed with a rational soul, He is also said to have been born of a woman in a fleshly manner’.19 Note how Cyril departs tacitly from the substantialist approach of Nestorius’ question to the personalist approach upon which his entire answer is based. Cyril’s orthodox theopaschism requires that he should make a real distinction between the ὑπόστασις of the Logos and His own divine nature (φύσις) or His own flesh (σάρξ) endowed with a rational soul. In the process of instrumentalising Christologically the union according to Hypostasis, Cyril arrives at a clear-cut distinction between ὑπόστασις and φύσις already in the Second Epistle to Nestorius, and soon after, in the Third Epistle to Nestorius, he equates programmatically πρόσωπον with ὑπόστασις: ‘all the sayings in the Gospels are to be attributed to one prosopon, and to the one enfleshed Hypostasis of the Logos, just as according to the Scriptures there is One Lord

18

Cyril, Second Epistle to Nestorius 5 (ACO 1.1.1, 27.14-8; trans. McGuckin, St Cyril [2004],

264). 19 See the entire discussion in Cyril, To the Monks of Egypt 12 (ACO 1.1.1, 15; trans. McGuckin, St Cyril [2004], 251-2).

From the Hypostatic Union to Person-Hypostasis

193

Jesus Christ (1Cor. 8:6)’.20 The direction of synonymy goes from πρόσωπον to ὑπόστασις, because the anti-Nestorian strategy of Cyril consists in giving an ontological content to the ambiguous πρόσωπον, which could be conveniently manipulated, since it has the meaning of an external phenomenological manifestation. Thus, for Cyril, it is not ὑπόστασις which needs to borrow from the meaning of πρόσωπον, but πρόσωπον needs to be understood more like ὑπόστασις, ontologically.21 However, what ὑπόστασις had to gain from this equation was its fundamental transfer from the substantialist sphere (where it was close to φύσις) to the personalist sphere, where it can designate the Person of the Logos as distinct from His own divine nature. By this transfer, all Sabellian meaning of πρόσωπον is definitively removed, the πρόσωπον of the Logos being truly the ‘enipostatic (ἐνυπόστατος) Logos of the Father’.22 This strategy will become important for the understanding of the dogmatic definition of Chalcedon. To the list of my arguments in favour of a personalist understanding of Cyril’s concept of union according to Hypostasis we could add the kenosis of the Logos in the Incarnation and the exchange of properties, both richly employed by Cyril, but their relevance is to be understood similarly to what has been said so far. We may briefly conclude that Cyril understands and describes the mystery of Christ from the angle of the unity of the Person or Hypostasis of the pre-existing divine Logos; the one Person or Hypostasis of Christ is none other than the only-begotten Son and Logos consubstantial with the Father. Undoubtedly, the identity-language Christology is primary in Cyril’s discourse, and it assimilates perfectly the composition-language Christology,23 preferred by the Antiochians. It is to this Christological style that we turn our attention now. Composition-Language in Antiochian Christology While both Cyril and the Antiochian theologians, such as Theodoret of Cyrrhus and Andrew of Samosata, affirm the unity of person and the duality of natures in Christ, there is a notable difference of Christological style, visible in terminology and particularly in the starting point in describing the mystery of 20 ἑνὶ τοιγαροῦν προσώπῳ τὰς ἐν τοῖς εὐαγγελίοις πάσας ἀναθετέον φωνάς, ὐποστάσει μιᾷ τῇ τοῦ Λόγου σεσαρκωμένῃ. Κύριος γὰρ εἷς Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς κατὰ τὰς γραφάς, Cyril, Third Epistle to Nestorius 8 (ACO 1.1.1, 38.21-3; trans. McGuckin, St Cyril [2004], 271). See also 12 Chapters 4 (ACO 1.1.1, 41.1): προσώποις δυσὶν ἢ γοῦν ὑποστάσεσιν. 21 For a discussion of what I called the problem of the direction of synonymy, see P.T.R. Gray, ‘Theodoret on the “One Hypostasis”’, SP 15 (1984), 301-4. 22 ACO 1.1.1, 15.9. 23 Therefore, our interpretation is at variance with R.A. Norris, ‘Christological Models in Cyril of Alexandria’, SP 13 (1975), 255-68, and closer to T.G. Weinandy, ‘Cyril’ (2003), 40.

194

M. PORTARU

Christ: Cyril starts from the unity of the Person-Hypostasis of the divine Logos, who takes human flesh from the Virgin θεοτόκος, becomes perfect Man, appropriates human attributes and suffers in the flesh; the Antiochians start from the duality of natures which are joined together into one πρόσωπον-Christ. In other words, Cyril prefers a personalist approach, consonant with Jn. 1:14, whereas the Antiochians are inspired by a substantialist approach. Both approaches face specific challenges: the personalist approach must account for the integrity of the human nature devoid of a human hypostasis, while the substantialist approach trips over accounting for the ontological unity of the two perfect natures within one and the same person-hypostasis, and consequently, for the ontological exchange of properties as distinct from a merely logical mutual predication of attributes. However, in the light of the axiom ‘there is no nature without hypostasis’ it seems easier for the personalist approach to preserve the integrity of the human nature assumed by the Logos-Christ, than it is for the substantialist approach to accommodate the ontological exchange of properties, the doctrine of appropriation and the orthodox theopaschism. Perhaps the main source of theological imprecision within Antiochian substantialism, apart from the starting point in describing the mystery of Christ, is the failure to draw a clear-cut distinction between nature and person, not only at theological level, but also at terminological level. These insufficiencies surface in Nestorius’ epistle24 written in response to Cyril’s Second Epistle: we notice there how Nestorius does not grasp the necessary distinction between nature (φύσις) and hypostasis (ὑπόστασις) and consequently accuses Cyril of heterodox theopaschism, how he struggles with the ontological exchange of properties, finding his refuge in the title ‘Christ’ as a logical or grammatical subject of predication,25 how he translates Cyril’s union according to Hypostasis into a conjunction (συνάφεια) of natures into one πρόσωπον, which would help avoiding the attribution of a second birth to the divine Logos.26 The understanding of the process of Incarnation as a conjunction of two natures is obviously possible only if the starting point in Christology is the two natures, not the unique Person-Hypostasis of the Logos. This is also the ultimate cause of Nestorius’ rejection of the ontological exchange of properties, which in turn gives the impression of a two-sons Christology. Later, between December 430 and May 431, Cyril had to defend his 12 Chapters against Andrew of Samosata and Theodoret of Cyrrhus. The more serious objections of the Antiochians are motivated by the fact that they were reading 24

ACO 1.1.1, 29-32. See his implicit distinction between the ontological ‘Logos’ and the logical ‘Christ’ in the following words: ἵνα μὴ τὸν θεὸν Λόγον ἐντευθέν τις παθητὸν ὑπολάβῃ, τίθησιν τὸ Χριστός, ὡς τῆς ἀπαθοῦς καὶ παθητῆς οὐσίας ἐν μοναδικῷ προσώπῳ προσηγορίαν σημαντικήν (ACO 1.1.1, 30.11-3). 26 ACO 1.1.1, 30.18-21. 25

From the Hypostatic Union to Person-Hypostasis

195

ὑπόστασις as a perfect synonym of φύσις, and therefore they attacked Cyril’s two concepts, ‘natural union’ and ‘hypostatic union’, as promoting the confusion of natures in Christ, in Apollinaris’ manner. To Andrew, Cyril replies that by ‘natural’ union he intends to say a ‘true’ union (τὸ φύσει δηλοῖ τὸ κατὰ ἀλήθειαν), devising the concept of natural union to express the orthodox mode of union. At the same time, his answer27 shows how during this polemic he has changed the starting point in describing the Christ from the unique person to the duality of natures (ἐκ δύο πραγμάτων ἀνομοίων, θεότητός τε καὶ ἀνθρωπότητος, τὸν ἕνα γενέσθαι Χριστὸν καὶ υἱὸν καὶ κύριον). But in his reply to Theodoret, who objected heavily against the concept of union according to Hypostasis, Cyril maintains and clarifies further his identity-language Christology grounded on the personalist approach, which was previously articulated gradually from the Second Epistle to Nestorius to the 12 Chapters (a series of writings which contain the authentic and proper expression of Cyril’s Christology): It was necessary that we say, fighting against his [Nestorius’] teachings, that a union according to Hypostasis took place (τὴν καθ᾽ὐπόστασιν ἕνωσιν γενέσθαι), the phrase ‘according to Hypostasis’ meaning nothing else than the nature of the Logos (ἡ τοῦ Λόγου φύσις), or, more precisely,28 the Hypostasis (ἢ γοῦν ὑπόστασις), that is, the Logos Himself (ὁ ἐστιν αὐτὸς ὁ Λόγος), being truly united to human nature without change or confusion, as I have said many times, is contemplated and is one Christ, the same being God and Man.29

This text is of paramount importance for assessing Cyril’s Christology. First, we may observe how he distinguishes ὑπόστασις from φύσις by equating ὑπόστασις with the ‘Logos Himself’, thus moving it from the substantialist sphere to the personalist sphere. This distinction between nature and hypostasis is simultaneously theological and terminological. In this way, the previously established synonymy between ὑπόστασις and πρόσωπον (in the Third Epistle to Nestorius) is further developed as referring to ‘the Logos Himself’. Second, the phrase ἡ τοῦ Λόγου φύσις should be understood as designating the divine common nature as hypostasised by the Logos. Here the use of φύσις is in keeping with Theodoret’s language, to whom Cyril responds, but Cyril’s intention with the key-expression, ἡ τοῦ Λόγου φύσις ἢ γοῦν ὑπόστασις ὅ ἐστιν αὐτὸς ὁ Λόγος, is to make the transition, through ἢ γοῦν, from a substantialist to a 27

ACO 1.1.7, 40.25-8. I translate the particle γοῦν by ‘more precisely’, understanding it as having an emphatic sense here. 29 ἀναγκαίως ἡμεῖς τοῖς ἐκείνου μαχόμενοι τὴν καθ᾽ὑπόστασιν ἕνωσιν γενέσθαι φαμέν, τοῦ καθ᾽ὑπόστασιν οὐδὲν ἕτερον ὑποφαίνοντος πλὴν ὅτι μόνον ἡ τοῦ Λόγου φύσις ἢ γοῦν ὑπόστασις, ὅ ἐστιν αὐτὸς ὁ Λόγος, ἀνθρωπείαι φύσει κατὰ ἀλήθειαν ἑνωθεὶς τροπῆς τινος δίχα καὶ συγχύσεως, καθὰ πλειστάκις εἰρήκαμεν, εἷς νοεῖται καὶ ἔστιν Χριστός, ὁ αὐτὸς Θεὸς καὶ ἄνθρωπος, Cyril, To Euoptus, the Defence of the 12 Chapters against Theodoret (ACO 1.1.6, 115.12-6; trans. mine). 28

196

M. PORTARU

personalist language – to his characteristic Christological language. ἢ γοῦν drives a definitive wedge between φύσις and ὑπόστασις. Third, ὑπόστασις is replenished with ontological meaning while describing the incarnate condition of the Logos as the one Christ. Fourth, Cyril implies that the divine Hypostasis of the Logos, while assuming the human nature, has the power to maintain it in Himself without change or confusion. This answer should have been enough to dispel the substantialist qualms of Theodoret, whose language energetically perpetuates the confusion between φύσις and ὑπόστασις.30 At first sight, we may think that the equivalence between φύσις and ὑπόστασις represents just a variation of language, which once acknowledged can fully establish mutual understanding. However, it leaves the Antiochians with the following problem: if ὑπόστασις means φύσις, the common nature, then πρόσωπον alone, whose basic meaning is that of an individual phenomenological manifestation, proves insufficient to account for the ontological dimension of the human or divine person. Cyril was aware of both the terminological misunderstanding and the Christological insufficiency of the Antiochian compositionlanguage. Though he signed the Formula of union in 433, mindful of the peace of the Church, the archbishop of Alexandria has never lost sight of the subtler, more profound tension between his beloved ἕνωσις καθ᾽ ὑπόστασιν and the weaker formula δύο φύσεων ἕνωσις. Even though he acknowledges that the Antiochian theologians do not commit the errors of Nestorius, he continues to be unhappy with their Christological language even after 433: as he puts it in his Epistle to Eulogius, the Orientals confessed the same things, ‘despite of the fact that they are a little obscure in their terminology’.31 We may presume that this ‘obscurity’ concerned the differences already mentioned: the starting point in Christology, the substitution of the identity-language with the composition language, the lack of a sharp distinction between nature and person, together with an ambiguous use of πρόσωπον. As a consequence of the controversy with Theodoret, Cyril will avoid the use of ἕνωσις καθ᾽ ὑπόστασιν, but he will compensate for it by anticipating the concept of theandric activity: in opposition to the Antiochian tendency to distribute separately the biblical sayings to one or the other nature, Cyril emphasises that the Logos-Christ speaks simultaneously in a divine and human manner, because He is simultaneously 30 Here is a representative text by Theodoret: πῶς τοίνυν φησὶν μὴ δεῖν τὰς ὑποστάσεις διαιρεῖν εἴτ᾽οὖν φύσεις; καὶ ταῦτα εἰδὼς ὡς τελεία μὲν ἡ τοῦ Θεοῦ Λόγου ὑπόστασις πρὸ τῶν αἰώνων ὑπῆρχεν, τελεία δὲ ὑπ᾽ἐκείνης ἐλήφθη ἡ τοῦ δούλου μορφή, δι᾽ὃ καὶ ὑποστάσεις εἶπεν, ἀλλ᾽οὐχ ὑπόστασιν. εἰ τοίνυν ἑκατέρα φύσις τὸ τέλειον ἔχει, εἰς ταυτὸν δὲ συνῆλθον ἀμφότεραι, τῆς τοῦ Θεοῦ μορφῆς δηλονότι λαβούσης τὴν τοῦ δούλου μορφήν, ἓν μὲν πρόσωπον καὶ ἕνα υἱὸν καὶ Χριστὸν ὡσαύτως ὁμολογεῖν εὐσεβές, δύο δὲ τὰς ἑνωθείσας ὑποστάσεις εἴτ᾽οὖν φύσεις λέγειν οὐκ ἄτοπον, ἀλλὰ καὶ λίαν ἀκόλουθον (ACO 1.1.6, 117.12-8). 31 ταῦτα ὡμολόγησαν οἱ ἐκ τῆς Ἀνατολῆς, εἰ καὶ περὶ τὴν λέξιν ὀλίγον ἐσκοτίσθησαν (ACO 1.1.4, 36.12-3). See also To Acacius of Melitene 18 (ACO 1.1.4, 28).

From the Hypostatic Union to Person-Hypostasis

197

God and Man.32 The unitive and personalist Christological sense of Cyril of Alexandria is very distinctive. Chalcedon While the dogmatic definition of Chalcedon displays both types of Christological language, the Cyrillian identity-language and the Antiochian composition-language, we may easily see that the identity-language provides the general framework to which the composition-language elements are assimilated. The point of departure is the identity of Jesus Christ. The entire definition is focused on the Person-Hypostasis of Jesus Christ, and therefore the Christological starting point is personalist: ‘we confess one and the same Son, our Lord Jesus Christ’. The talk about the union of two natures (δύο φύσεων ἕνωσις) from the Formula of union (433) now becomes ‘one and the same Christ … in two natures’, an expression which maintains the personalist starting point. Subordinate to this, we encounter the convergence of natures, but these are said to converge not simply ‘in one prosopon’, but ‘in one prosopon and one hypostasis’. In only one instance, towards the end, the ‘one and the same Son and Lord Jesus Christ’ is identified with ‘God the Logos’. It is not by chance that the specification ‘one and the same’, which pervades the whole Chalcedonian definition, was originally Cyril’s correction of the Formula of union which John of Antioch has sent to him.33 Cyril of Alexandria as a main influence on Maximus the Confessor’s Christological Language The history of the reception of the definition of Chalcedon shows that time was needed until the two Cyrilline features, namely, the identification of Jesus Christ as the pre-eternal Logos of the Father and the qualification of prosopon in an ontological sense by equating it with hypostasis, will be definitively integrated in the Christological discourse with the same self-consciousness with which they were asserted by Cyril of Alexandria. This process may be considered to have reached its completion with Maximus the Confessor, in whose Christology the identity-language assimilates perfectly the compositionlanguage. 32 ἀνέφικτον δὲ καὶ τὸ ἕτερον οὔτε μὴν ἀνῄρηκά ποτε φωνῶν διαφοράς, ἀλλ᾽οἶδα τὸν κύριον θεοπρεπῶς τε ἅμα καὶ ἀνθρωπίνως διαλεγόμενον, ἐπείπερ ἐστὶν ἐν ταὐτῷ θεὸς καὶ ἄνθρωπος, Cyril, To Acacius of Melitene 20 (ACO 1.1.4, 30.4-6). 33 The version of John of Antioch is preserved in ACO 1.1.7, 70.15-22, and the version corrected by Cyril in ACO 1.1.4, 17.9-20.

198

M. PORTARU

Cyril of Alexandria is the root-influence on Maximus’ Christology.34 There are intermediary influences as well: the identity-language Christology was transmitted to him also by Dionysius the Ps.-Areopagite and Leontius of Jerusalem, while the composition-language Christology seems to come through Leontius of Byzantium and Sophronius of Jerusalem. However, inherited elements are melted down into an original synthesis, expressed in insightful language. Ambigua to Thomas35 constitutes probably the best example of identity-language Christology in Maximus. Let us look attentively at some relevant texts: The Word of God is whole complete being (for He is God), and He is whole undiminished Hypostasis (for He is the Son). Having emptied Himself, He became the seed of His own flesh, and being thus compounded (συντεθείς) by means of His ineffable conception, He became the Hypostasis of the flesh that He assumed. In this new mystery, He truly and without change became whole man, being Himself the Hypostasis of two natures, uncreated and created, impassible and passible, for He accepted without exception all the attributes of human nature, of which, as we have said, He was the Hypostasis. If, therefore, He accepted essentially all the principles of human nature – of which He Himself was the Hypostasis – it was with great wisdom that the teacher allocated the sufferings of the flesh to Him who became composite according to Hypostasis (συνθέτῳ γενομένῳ τῇ προσλήψει τῆς σαρκὸς κατὰ τὴν ὑπόστασιν) by assuming the flesh, precisely so that His sufferings would not be deemed merely nominal, because the flesh in question was His own, and it was by virtue of the flesh that truly God is able to suffer in opposition to sin. In this passage, then, the teacher is making a distinction between ‘being’ (οὐσία), according to which the Word remained simple, even though He became flesh, and ‘hypostasis’, according to which He became composite, by the assumption of the flesh, so that in the work of salvation the incarnate Word can be properly called a suffering God. Saint Gregory said these things so that we might not out of ignorance ascribe the properties of the person (τὰ τῆς ὑποστάσεως) to nature (φύσις) and, like the Arians, unwittingly worship a God who by nature is susceptible to suffering.36

In this text, we encounter all the essential features of Cyril’s Christological view: the point of departure is the divine identity of the Logos-Christ, the Son of God who becomes the Hypostasis of human nature through Incarnation; we encounter the doctrine of the appropriation of the flesh by the Logos; we encounter finally the orthodox theopaschism sufficiently clarified. Maximus makes a step forward in respect to Cyril and asserts explicitly what in Cyril remained an implicit presupposition: the real distinction between being (οὐσία) 34

As is plainly shown by Epistles 13, 15, 14 and 12 (in this order, according to Marek Jankowiak and Phil Booth, ‘A New Date-List of the Works of Maximus the Confessor’, in Pauline Allen and Bronwen Neil (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Maximus the Confessor (Oxford, 2015), 19-83, 33, 43-4, 54). The Ambigua ad Thomam was written between Epistles 14 and 12, in 634-5, ibid. 45. 35 Ed. Bart Janssens in CChr.SG 48, 1-34. 36 Maximus, Amb. Th. 2 (CChr.SG 48, 8-9.6-25; trans. Nicholas Constas, in Maximos the Confessor, On Difficulties in the Church Fathers. The Ambigua, vol. 1, DOML 28 [Cambridge, MA, 2014], 13-5 – the words in Greek and the capitalisation of hypostasis are my additions).

From the Hypostatic Union to Person-Hypostasis

199

or nature (φύσις) and hypostasis (ὑπόστασις). This distinction is not nominal or conceptual, but real, as it is required (1) by the orthodox doctrine of theopaschism (cf. ‘precisely so that His sufferings would not be deemed merely nominal (ψιλὰ νομισθῇ), because the flesh in question was His own, and it was by virtue of the flesh that truly (ἀληθῶς) God is able to suffer in opposition to sin’); and (2) by Maximus’ distinction between the divine nature, which remains simple after the Incarnation, and the Hypostasis of the Logos, which becomes composite after the Incarnation. This composition represents a personal property of the Logos, which cannot be ascribed to His divine nature, nor seen as deriving from it. A theological difficulty is contained in Maximus’ observation that the Logos became composite according to Hypostasis by the assumption of the flesh, while at the same time He remained simple according to His divine being. Before tackling this, it is necessary to discuss another central concept of Ambigua to Thomas. A little below, Maximus brings into discussion another essential concept for the personalist identity-language Christology, which was only alluded to by Cyril37 – the concept of natural energy or activity (φυσικὴ ἐνέργεια): ‘He did not become man without the energy that is proper to human nature, for the principle of natural energy is what defines the essence of a thing, and as a rule characterizes the nature of every being in which it essentially inheres’.38 Again, the orthodox theopaschism shows not only that there is a real distinction between the Person-Hypostasis of the Logos, on the one hand, and the divine and human natures, on the other, but also between the Person-Hypostasis of the Logos and the ‘sufferings’ or natural energies of the human nature. This helps us observe that Maximus admits equally the distinction between the divine nature and the divine natural energies/activities (called also ‘divine power’), and therefore, of the distinction between the divine natural energies/activities and the divine Person-Hypostasis of the Logos: For in the exchange of the divinity and the flesh He clearly confirmed the presence of the two natures of which He Himself was the Hypostasis, along with their essential energies, that is, their motions, of which He Himself was the unconfused union. And this union admits no division between the two natures – of which He Himself was the Hypostasis – because in a manner consistent with His nature He acted uniquely, that is, as a single agent, and in each of the things He did by the power of His own divinity, He showed forth – simultaneously and inseparably – the activity of His own flesh.39 Cyril, On the Incarnation of the Only-Begotten (SC 97, 278; 707ab): χαριζόμενον μὲν τῇ ἰδίᾳ σαρκὶ τῆς θεοπρεποῦς ἐνεργείας τὴν δόξαν, οἰκειούμενον δὲ αὖ τὰ σαρκὸς καὶ οἱοινεί πως καθ᾽ἕνωσιν οἰκονομικήν, καὶ τῇ ἰδίᾳ περιτιθέντα φύσει. 38 ἀλλ᾽οὐ χωρὶς φυσικῆς ἐνεργείας ἀληθῶς γέγονεν ἄνθρωπος, ἧς ὁ λόγος, ὅρος τῆς οὐσίας ἐστίν, πάντας χαρακτηρίζων φυσικῶς οἷς κατ᾽οὐσίαν ἐμπέφυκεν, Amb. Th. 2 (CChr.SG 48, 9.35-8; trans. Constas [2014], 15). 39 Τῇ γὰρ τούτων ἐπαλλαγῇ σαφῶς ἐπιστοῦτο τὰς τε φύσεις, ὧν αὐτὸς ὑπόστασις ἦν, καὶ τὰς αὐτῶν οὐσιώδεις ἐνεργείας, ἤγουν κινήσεις, ὧν αὐτὸς ἕνωσις ἦν ἀσύγχυτος, μὴ δεχομένη 37

200

M. PORTARU

The distinction between being or nature and its natural energy/activity, as well as the distinction between the Person-Hypostasis of the Logos and the natural energy/activity, to which the Logos gives personal shape, is re-affirmed in Amb. Th. 5: He possessed as His own, together with His human being, its undiminished power of movement (τῆς οὐσίας κίνησιν), which characterises Him generically as man, and which took on specific form (εἰδοποιουμένην) through all that He performed naturally as man (…) breathing, speaking, walking (…) even though He was a self-existing Power (δύναμις αὐθυπόστατος).40

In another place, explaining the affirmation of Dionysius that Jesus is called man not because He is the cause of men, but because He is truly man according to being, Maximus observes that the only valid proof that the human being is entirely present in Jesus is the presence of its natural constitutive power (ἡ κατὰ φύσιν αὐτῆς συστατικὴ δύναμις), called also natural energy/activity (φυσικὴ ἐνέργεια). The natural energy/activity ‘is the most generic motion constitutive of a species, and contains every property that naturally belongs to the essence’.41 Composite Hypostasis in Maximus: the Re-Fashioning of a Useful but Problematic Concept It is through this threefold distinction – the distinction between (i) person and nature (ii) nature (divine or human) and its natural energies/activities (iii) person and natural energies/activities – that we must understand Maximus’ assertion that the Logos ‘became composite according to Hypostasis by assuming the flesh (συνθέτῳ γενομένῳ τῇ προσλήψει τῆς σαρκὸς κατὰ τὴν ὑπόστασιν)’, while at the same time He remained simple according to His divine being, in our initial text.42 Linguistically, κατὰ τὴν ὑπόστασιν may be referred both to τῇ προσλήψει τῆς σαρκὸς, as well as to συνθέτῳ γενομένῳ – this makes manifest how Maximus develops Cyril’s concept of a union according to Hypostasis between the Logos and the flesh through the concept of composite Hypostasis, the latter’s source being most likely Leontius of Jerusalem.43 διαίρεσιν κατ᾽ἄμφω τὰς φύσεις, ὧν αὐτὸς ὑπόστασις ἦν, εἴπερ ἑαυτῷ προσφυῶς μοναδικῶς, τουτέστιν ἑνοειδῶς ἐνεργῶν, καὶ δι᾽ἑκάστου τῶν ὑπ᾽αὐτοῦ γινομένων τῇ δυνάμει τῆς ἑαυτοῦ θεότητος ἀχωρίστος συνεκφαίνων τῆς οἰκείας σαρκὸς τὴν ἐνέργειαν, Amb. Th. 4 (CChr.SG 48, 16.74-81; trans. Constas [2014], 27-9). 40 Amb. Th. 5 (CChr.SG 48, 23-4.85-92; trans. Constas [2014], 39). 41 Amb. Th. 5 (CChr.SG 48, 19-20.14-21; trans. Constas [2014], 33). 42 Amb. Th. 2 (CChr.SG 48, 8-9.6-25), cf. supra, n. 36. 43 See Nicholas Madden, ‘Composite Hypostasis in Maximus Confessor’, SP 27 (1993), 175-97, 186. While Leontius of Jerusalem appears to be the most likely source of Maximus, ‘composite hypostasis’ was introduced in the Christological debate of the sixth century by John the Grammarian,

From the Hypostatic Union to Person-Hypostasis

201

More importantly, the concept of composite Hypostasis represents the most profound synthesis between the identity-language Christology and the composition-language Christology. The key to understanding this synthesis in Maximus’ Christology is represented by the concept of natural energy/activity, with which he complements Cyril’s real distinction between person and nature. The concept of the Logos-Christ’s composite Hypostasis not only maintains the Cyrilline personalist starting-point in Christology by accounting for the union of the two natures through the unique Hypostasis of the Logos, transferring thus the ‘composition’ from the level of nature to the level of person, but also represents a subtle assimilation of composition-language by identity-language. However, in what seems to be the solution resides the difficulty: how can one introduce ontological composition into what is ontologically simple? How can the Person-Hypostasis of the Logos be said to become composite, while remaining simple according to divine nature? Maximus borrows Leontius’ concept with the aim of correcting Severus’ concept of a composite nature. Both concepts, composite nature and composite hypostasis, may be regarded as different ways of making sense of Cyril’s concept of a natural union, intended to describe the mode of a true union of the two natures in the one Hypostasis of the Logos. While Maximus rejects Severus’ composite nature as an interpretation of Cyril’s natural union,44 he argues that the concept of composite hypostasis comes closer to a correct understanding of Cyril’s natural union only insofar as Leontius of Jerusalem’s version of the concept is re-worked through Dionysius’ concept of a ‘new theandric energy/activity’. As Nicholas Madden observes, ‘Leontius of Jerusalem uses hypostasis idike to identify Heinzer’s “formal principle” of hypostasis so that it corresponds to the kath’heauto einai of Leontius of Byzantium. He speaks of hypostasis koine where the hypostasis subsists in the two natures and thus embraces the idiomata of both natures’.45 Though Maximus made some use of the ‘common – proper’ in Against the Acephalous (written during the first years of 520s): Πᾶσα ὑπόστασις ἐν κοινότητι, ὅ ἐστιν οὐσίᾳ, θεωρεῖται· καὶ εἰ μὲν ἡ ὑπόστασις ἁπλῆ εἴη, καὶ ἡ κοινότης ἁπλῆ· εἰ δὲ σύνθετος ἡ ὑπόστασις εἴη, καὶ ἡ κοινότης σύνθετος ἔσται ἢ ἐν διαφόροις κοινότησιν ἡ σύνθετος ὑπόστασις ἔσται. (...) Ἐπὶ δὲ Χριστοῦ ἡ ὑπόστασις σύνθετος οὖσα οὐ θεωρεῖται ἐν συνθέτῳ κοινότητι. (...) Εἰ οὖν οὐδεμίαν σύνθετον ἔχει κοινότητα, πάντως ὑπολείπεται ἐν διαφόροις κοινότησι θεωρεῖσθαι, ἐν τῇ τοῦ πατρὸς καὶ ἁγίου πνεύματος κοινότητι, καθ᾽ἥν ἐστι Θεός, καὶ ἐν τῇ πρὸς πάντας ἀνθρώπους κοινότητι, ch. 7 (CChr.SG 1, 63); Ποία οὖν ἔσται διαφορὰ ἁπλοῦ τε καὶ συνθέτου, εἰ μὴ τὸ μὲν ἐν μιᾷ οὐσίᾳ, τὸ δὲ ἐν δύο οὐσίαις γνωρίζομεν;, ch. 10 (CChr.SG 1, 64). The concept of composite hypostasis was foreshadowed by Cyril of Alexandria, On the Incarnation of the Only-Begotten: Θεὸς Λόγος (...) ἐκ δυοῖν τελείοιν, ἀνθρωπότητος δὴ λέγω καὶ θεότητος, εἰς ἕνα καὶ τὸν αὐτὸν παραδόξως συνδούμενος (SC 97, 240; 694de); ἀνθρωπίνοις τε αὖ καὶ τοῖς ὑπὲρ ἄνθρωπον ἰδιώμασιν εἰς ἕν τι τὸ μεταξὺ συγκείμενος (SC 97, 286; 709e). 44 Especially in his Epistles 13, 15, 14 and 12. 45 N. Madden, ‘Composite hypostasis’ (1993), 186-7.

202

M. PORTARU

language previously, in Epistle 15, he drops it completely in Amb. Th., where the distinction between ὑπόστασις ἰδική and ὑπόστασις κοινή is absent. Instead, he relies now entirely on the concept of natural energy/activity, employed consistently within the system of the threefold distinction mentioned at the beginning of this section: ‘By walking about in this manner [on the surface of the sea], He shows that the natural activity of His own flesh is inseparable from the power of His divinity (…) which is united to it according to Hypostasis’.46 Both the natures and their respective natural energies/activities are united according to Hypostasis. The union of the two natural energies/activities does not abrogate any of the natures, but, while preserving intact their natural principles (φυσικοὶ λόγοι) or principles of being (ὁ τοῦ εἶναι λόγος), it affects ontologically their mode of existence (ὁ τοῦ εἶναι τρόπος).47 This means that he does the things of man in a manner beyond man, as in the case of His fleshly birth from a Virgin without a father, because ‘the human energy/activity is conjoined with the divine power, since the human nature, united without confusion to the divine nature, is completely penetrated by it (…) having been assumed according to Hypostasis’.48 In this sense, as God, He was the moving principle of His own humanity, and as Man He was the revelatory principle of His own divinity. One could say, then, that He experienced suffering in a divine way, since it was voluntary (and He was not mere man); and that He worked miracles in a human way, since they were accomplished through the flesh (for He was not naked God). Therefore, His sufferings are wondrous, for they have been renewed by the natural divine power of the one Who suffered. So too are His wonders wedded to passibility, for they were completed by the naturally passible power of the flesh of the One Who worked them.49

In this way, the Logos incarnate acts according to a new theandric energy/ activity, as a single Subject.50 The concept of theandric energy/activity expresses at least two facts: (i) that the divine and human energies/activities coincide in the single indentity of the Person-Hypostasis of the Logos incarnate; (ii) that the divine and human energies/activities affect each other at ontological level through the single acting Subject.51 The theandric mode of the actualisation of the natural energies/activities by the Logos-Christ represents a form of the exchange of natural properties, as a consequence of the union according to Hypostasis.52 In Maximus’ view, the orthodox meaning of Dionysius’ new 46

Amb. Th. 5 (CChr.SG 48, 23.80-4; trans. Constas [2014], 39). Amb. Th. 5 (CChr.SG 48, 24-5.99-123). 48 Amb. Th. 5 (CChr.SG 48, 26-7.150-5; trans. Constas [2014], 45). 49 Amb. Th. 5 (CChr.SG 48, 28-9.192-200; trans. Constas [2014], 49). 50 Amb. Th. 5 (CChr.SG 48, 25.131-3): εἴπερ ἑαυτῷ προσφυῶς, μοναδικῶς, ἤγουν ἑνοειδῶς, ἐνεργῶν, καὶ διὰ πάντων ἀχωρίστως τῇ θεϊκῇ δυνάμει συνεκφαίνων τῆς οἰκείας σαρκὸς τὴν ἐνέργειαν. 51 Amb. Th. 5 (CChr.SG 48, 29-30.206-12). 52 Amb. Th. 5 (CChr.SG 48, 32-3.266-71). 47

From the Hypostatic Union to Person-Hypostasis

203

theandric energy/activity is entirely dependent on Leontius’ concept of composite Hypostasis, the emphasis being put therefore on the Person-Hypostasis of the Logos: He [Dionysius] called the energy ‘theandric’, but not because he thought it was something simple, or that it was some kind of composite thing. For the ‘theandric energy’ is not the natural manifestation of either divinity or humanity alone, nor is it that of a composite nature occupying some kind of borderland between the two extremes. Instead it is the energy that belongs most naturally to ‘God made man’, to Him who became perfectly incarnate.53

This quotation shows plainly that it is the theandric Hypostasis of the Logos who enacts or actualises theandrically the natural energies/activities of the two unconfused natures. Jesus Christ is the one Person-Hypostasis of the Logos, in two natures, who acts theandrically: such understanding transcends Leontius’ distinction between ὑπόστασις ἰδική and ὑπόστασις κοινή,54 as well as the modern scholarly distinction between a formal aspect (related to person) and a material aspect (related to the composition of the idioms) of the hypostasis in Christ.55 The reason for this is that the concept of natural energy/activity and consequently of a ‘new theandric activity’ possesses more explanatory power than the concept of ‘property’ (ἰδίωμα): the latter is too static, descriptive, and external, while the former is able to give account of Maximus’ profound intuition that the divine Logos-Christ ‘is two natures’.56 This development complements the previous two formulas, ‘from two natures’ and ‘in two natures’, which, strictly speaking, do not specify what the nature of the Logos-Christ is – not to mention who Jesus Christ is. Therefore, if the Logos is two natures, then we do not seem to need the distinction between the formal aspect of hypostasis and the material aspect of hypostasis: the identity-language Christology with its personalist approach and the corresponding intuition that the Logos is two natures is at odds with the impersonal notion of a composite hypostasis as the end-product of the union of the two natures.57 If it is true that 53

Amb. Th. 5 (CChr.SG 48, 31.231-6; trans. Constas [2014], 53). The moving beyond ὑπόστασις ἰδική is already visible in Maximus’ Epistle 15 (PG 91, 556CD): Φημὶ δὲ κοινὴν, ὡς μίαν καὶ τὴν αὐτὴν τῶν μερῶν ἰδικωτάτην ἐκ τῆς ἑνώσεως ἀποφανθεῖσαν ὐπόστασιν· μᾶλλον δὲ μίαν τοῦ Λόγου καὶ τὴν αὐτὴν ὐπάρχουσαν νῦν τε καὶ πρότερον. 55 This distinction was introduced by Felix Heinzer, Gottes Sohn als Mensch. Die Struktur des Menschseins Christi bei Maximus Confessor (Freiburg, 1980), 81, and was further developed by Demetrios Bathrellos, The Byzantine Christ. Person, Nature and Will in the Christology of Saint Maximus the Confessor (Oxford, 2004), 99-107. 56 Amb. Th. 5 (CChr.SG 48, 26.137-8; 34.293-5). 57 For illustration, see D. Bathrellos, The Byzantine Christ (2004), 105, the entire second paragraph. The imprecisions brought about and the difficulties faced by the notion of ‘one reality’ or ‘theandric “material” hypostasis’ are typical of the problems of the composition-language Christology. 54

204

M. PORTARU

the Logos is the two natures, then the Logos Himself is the Hypostasis of the two natures after His Incarnation. The identity of Christ is that of the divine Logos incarnate. If the Logos is two natures, then He acts perfectly unitary according to the two natures, as their union according to Hypostasis, that is, as uniting them in Himself. Once again, all this is affirmed against the background of the threefold distinction above (at the beginning of this section), of which we need to emphasise the real distinction between person and nature and the fact that the new theandric activity is realised ontologically in the Person-Hypostasis of the Logos. Maximus’ identity-language Christology transcends completely all potentially Nestorian meaning hidden deep down within the composition-language: There is nothing more unified than He, who is truly One, and apart from Him there is nothing more completely unifying or preserving of what is properly His own. Thus, even when He suffered, He was truly God, and when He worked miracles the same one was truly Man, for He was the true Hypostasis of true natures united in an ineffable union. Acting in both of these natures in a manner suitable and consistent with each, He was shown forth as one truly preserving them unconfused, while, at the same time, preserving Himself without change, insofar as He remained impassible by nature and passible, immortal and mortal, visible to the eyes and known by the intellect, as God by nature and Man by nature.58

So far we have recovered Maximus’ personalist re-fashioning of Leontius’ composite hypostasis through Dionysius’ new theandric energy/activity, and thereby his subtle assimilation of the composition-language Christology within the framework of the identity-language Christology. What remains to be investigated now is whether Maximus has any convincing means of overcoming the ontological difficulty characteristic to the concept of composite hypostasis formulated above: how can one introduce ontological composition into what is ontologically simple? How can the Person-Hypostasis of the Logos be said to become composite, while remaining simple according to divine nature? One weaker answer is that the Logos-Christ is simple and composite at the same time, since by His divine nature, by which He exists before the Incarnation as fully constituted, He is simple, and, by the union according to Hypostasis, He becomes composite,59 in the same way as He remained impassible by nature but became passible by the union according to Hypostasis. Maximus’ stronger answer, it seems to me, is articulated through the already mentioned distinction between the principle of being (ὁ τοῦ εἶναι λόγος) of the two natures and their mode of existence (ὁ τοῦ εἶναι τρόπος) in the divine Person-Hypostasis of the Logos.60 According to this distinction, the simple, pre-existing Person-Hypostasis of the Logos unites in Himself ontologically the 58 59 60

Amb. Th. 4 (CChr.SG 48, 16-7.82-90). Ep. 15 (PG 91, 556CD). Amb. Th. 5 (CChr.SG 48, 24-5.99-123).

From the Hypostatic Union to Person-Hypostasis

205

natural energies/activities of the two natures, thereby bestowing on them a new mode of existence in Himself, while He preserves unchanged the principle of being of the natures which He is. On this understanding, the concept of mode of existence refers to the ontological union of the natural energies, the divine and the human, brought about by the Person-Hypostasis of the Logos through Incarnation; ‘mode of existence’ is not therefore a synonym of the PersonHypostasis of the Logos. This presupposes a real distinction between the Person-Hypostasis of the Logos, the natural energies of the two natures and the two natures themselves. If this distinction holds true, it sheds light on a further modal distinction concerning the natural energies of the two natures: they may be considered through their point of origin (the natures) or through their principle of actualisation (the person-hypostasis). Maximus uses the same word for these two modalities, ἐνέργεια, but I propose to render it through ‘energy’ (natural power) when we refer to their point of origin, and through ‘activity’ (action) when we refer to them as enacted by the person-hypostasis. The walking of Jesus on the sea presupposes the human energy of walking, the divine power of floating, and Jesus’ theandric activity, entirely free, of making steps on the surface of the Sea of Galilee. Maximus’ stronger answer could be clarified further by the ‘principle of reciprocity’ (in Gregory of Nazianzus’ classical formulation, ‘He became One by the complete victory of what is stronger, so that I may become God to the measure in which He became Man’, or, in Athanasius’ concise formulation, ‘He became Man, so that we may be deified’61) and by the ‘asymmetrical Christology’: in the Logos-Christ, the human nature is elevated to a divine mode of operation – in Maximus’ words, ‘as God, He was the moving principle of His own humanity’.62 This asymmetrical Christology represents a logical implication of (1) the pre-existence of the Logos to His Incarnation, (2) the divine identity of the Logos and (3) the unity of Person-Hypostasis in the Logos-Christ. 63 By applying this to the problem of the composite Hypostasis, we may say that one of the consequences of the union according to Hypostasis is that the Logos bestows more unity – indeed, supreme unity – to His human nature at the level 61 Gregory of Nazianzus, Or. 29, 19 (SC 250, 218; trans. mine): καὶ γέγονεν εἷς, τοῦ κρείττονος ἐκνικήσαντος, ἵνα γένωμαι τοσοῦτον Θεός, ὅσον ἐκεῖνος ἄνθρωπος. Athanasius, On the Incarnation 54 (PG 25b, 192B; trans. mine): αὑτὸς γὰρ ἐνηνθρώπησεν, ἵνα ἡμεῖς θεωποιηθῶμεν. We find the principle of reciprocity in Maximus as well, e.g., Amb. Io. 10, 3 (Constas [2014], 164) and Th. oec. 2, 25 (PG 90, 1136BC). 62 Text quoted supra, n. 49. 63 One of the earliest clear testimonies of the asymmetrical Christology, possibly the first, is Apollinaris of Laodicea, To Diodore, fr. 128 (ed. Henri de Riedmatten, ‘Les Fragments d’Apollinaire à l’Eranistes’, in Aloys Grillmeier and Heinrich Bacht (eds), Das Konzil von Chalkedon. Geschichte und Gegenwart, vol. 1: Der Glaube von Chalkedon [Würzburg, 1951], 208): οὐδὲ ἡ τοῦ θεοῦ πρὸς τὸ σῶμα ἕνωσις μεταβολὴ σώματός ἐστιν, καίτοι τοῦ σώματος τὰς θείας ἐνεργείας παρεχομένου.

206

M. PORTARU

of its mode of existence. While at the level of its principle of being, His human nature remains composite, at the level of its mode of existence, it manifests itself divinely unified or even displaying divine unity, being appropriated by the divine Logos: ‘There is nothing more unified than He, who is truly One, and apart from Him there is nothing more completely unifying or preserving of what is properly His own’.64 In order to have this supreme unifying power, the Logos must be the simplicity itself, otherwise put, must be simple according to His divine nature. It follows that the Logos, while remaining simple according to divine nature, becomes composite according to Hypostasis through Incarnation not in a static manner, but making His composite human nature supremely unified according to its mode of existence in Him, Who is truly His two natures. Once again, this requires (1) the distinction between the PersonHypostasis of the Logos and the mode of existence of the human nature in Him, and (2) the personalist understanding of hypostasis in Christology, according to which the Hypostasis is the Logos Himself, as opposed to a substantialist understanding, according to which hypostasis designates a state of union of the two natures as ‘one reality’. Through the distinction between the principle of being of the natures and their mode of existence as a union of their natural energies within the PersonHypostasis of the Logos, Who is both natures without separation or confusion, we come closer to a personalist articulation of the concept of composite hypostasis. Maximus’ solution seems to reside in the concept of natural energies/ activities of the two natures and in their mode of existence as an ontological union – as a ‘new theandric activity’ – in the Person-Hypostasis of the divine Logos. The divine simplicity of the Person-Hypostasis of the Logos, Who is His two natures, is fully preserved, because He is, in complete freedom, the unconfused union of the natural energies/activities of the divine and the human nature. St Maximus the Confessor’s Ambigua ad Thomam (AD 634-5) is identitylanguage Christology at its highest. Conclusion In the present study I have attempted to draw the outline of two Christological frameworks, the identity-language Christology and the composition-language Christology. The former starts from the unity of person in understanding the mystery of Jesus Christ, while the latter starts from the two natures which come to union. The former displays a personalist approach, the latter a substantialist approach. The former was self-consciously articulated first by Cyril of Alexandria, through the concept of union according to Hypostasis, as a reaction against 64 Amb. Th. 4 (CChr.SG 48, 16.82-3; trans. Constas [2014], 29): Αὐτοῦ γὰρ ἑνὸς ὄντος οὐδὲν ἑνικώτερον, οὐδ᾽αὐτοῦ πάλιν τῶν ἑαυτοῦ παντελῶς ἑνωτικώτερον ἢ σωστικώτερον.

From the Hypostatic Union to Person-Hypostasis

207

some dubious results of the latter in Nestorius and in other Antiochian theologians, and was developed by Maximus the Confessor through the concept of composite hypostasis (inherited from Leontius of Jerusalem) and the concept of theandric activity (inherited from Dionysius the Ps.-Areopagite). Maximus adopts Cyril’s personalist approach and the union according to Hypostasis and in Ambigua ad Thomam offers what may well be the most sublime expression of identity-language Christology. Maximus will resort again to the same Christological style during the monothelite controversy, when he defines the hypostasis as ‘someone of the being’ (τόν τινα τῆς οὐσίας).65 The relevance of my enquiry is twofold. In what concerns Christology, it argues for a personalist meaning of the union according to Hypostasis in Cyril of Alexandria, and it leads to the conclusion that only the identity-language Christology with its personalist approach is apt to remove any potential or hidden Nestorianism from our understanding of Jesus Christ. According to a rigorous application of the identity-language Christology, the anthropological paradigm is ultimately unsuited to the Logos-Christ, because the identity of Jesus Christ is not that of a human individual. In what concerns anthropology and the contemporary search for the relationship between person and nature, it makes the following points: (i) Cyril’s orthodox theopaschite doctrine relies on a real distinction between person and nature; (ii) Maximus develops Cyril’s distinction into a threefold distinction in Christological contexts: person – nature; nature – natural energies; person – natural energies/activities; (iii) in Maximus’ Ambigua ad Thomam, the person does not represent the mode of existence of the nature. Here, the concept of mode of existence refers to the ontological union of the natural energies/activities of the two natures, divine and human, brought about by the Person-Hypostasis of the Logos. All these findings may represent an invitation to take into consideration a more personalist approach in our theological style, and to stop disregarding the concept of natural energy/activity, since it seems attuned to our quest for freedom and to the general dynamism of our times.66

65

Op. 23 (PG 91, 261A). I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to Prof. Ioan Caraza, who first introduced me to St Cyril of Alexandria, and to Prof. John M. Rist, whose comments and corrections helped me improve an earlier version. I am particularly grateful to Giulio Maspero and Miguel Brugarolas Brufau for their kind invitation to publish my article in the present volume. As always, my wife, Adina, was my first reader and critic. All remaining mistakes are my own. 66

Christology in the Fourth Century: A Response Johannes ZACHHUBER, University of Oxford, UK

The study of Christology in the fourth century is as difficult as it is rewarding, but research in this area remains scarce. The contributions collected in this volume, therefore, fulfil an important scholarly desideratum. They also, individually and collectively, contribute major pointers for future work in the field. My aim in this response will not be to discuss every issue raised or discussed in the preceding chapters. Rather, I will offer my own, necessarily subjective sketch of major challenges in the study of fourth-century Christology together with some suggestions on how these can be addressed. In doing so, I benefit throughout from the many insights contained in the chapters of this book and shall comment on them as I go along.

1. The centrality of fifth-century Christology It may seem counterintuitive, but a good starting point for a discussion of fourth-century Christology is the period that immediately succeeded it. The reason for this is simple: To an extent that can hardly be overestimated, all subsequent Christology has been shaped by events that took place in the first half of the fifth century. In at least three ways, the conflict between Nestorius and Cyril with the subsequent Councils in Ephesus (431) and Chalcedon (451) established in permanence the contours of Christology as a doctrinal discourse. First, in and through these developments the terminology was defined in which Christological doctrine would permanently come to be expressed. While this terminology relied on language that had previously been employed in a trinitarian context, notably the words hypostasis and physis, its systematic use in Christology was novel at the time.1 Crucial was Cyril’s introduction of the phrase henosis kath’ hypostasin,2 one of the most discussed formulae of the later Patristic period and the true starting point of theological discussions about the ‘hypostatic union’. It would obviously be wrong to claim or imply that later 1 Cf. esp. Marcel Richard’s classic study: ‘L’introduction du mot “hypostase” dans la théologie de l’incarnation’, Mélanges de Science Réligieuse 2 (1945), 5-32, 243-70. For physis: Johannes Zachhuber, ‘Nature’, in Mark Edwards (ed.), The Routledge Handbook of Early Christian Philosophy (London, 2021), ch. 3. 2 Cyril of Alexandria, Apologia contra Theodoretum 2, in ACO I 1, 6, 114.6-116.8.

Studia Patristica CXII, 209-218. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

210

J. ZACHHUBER

authors universally agreed on the meaning of these terms. In fact, only in the course of ensuing controversies did theologians fully discover how much there was to disagree on. In the early seventh century, Leontius of Jerusalem listed no fewer than sixteen definitions of hypostasis at the beginning of the second book of his Against the Nestorians.3 As for physis, there was debate as well: was it universal or could there be individual natures?4 Was it the same as ousia or should the two be distinguished?5 Yet however much Christian thinkers may have disagreed on the precise meaning of these terms, they largely agreed on the principle that, in order to come to an understanding of the Christological issue, a precise definition of these terms and of their relationship with each other was pivotal. Second, inseparable from the terminology was the conceptual core of Christology; this too was determined in fifth-century debates. In general, it can be said that two problems stood at the centre: The precise relationship of Christ’s divine and human natures and the kind of unity into which these two enter to establish Jesus Christ as one single person. As for the former, battle lines were drawn over the question of whether the two natures remained as two in the Incarnation (a view embraced by so-called Nestorians and Chalcedonians) or whether out of two natures, a single nature, Godmanhood, emerged (this was the position held by Severus of Antioch and miaphysites more generally). As for the latter, Cyril’s hypostatic union became the dividing line, as Chalcedonians and miaphysites both accepted the term, whereas the Church of the East did not (opting instead, eventually, for the idea of two hypostases in one prosopon). Third, the fifth century also defined Christology in terms of camps or parties as the main options were, rightly or wrongly, associated with Nestorius, Cyril, and Eutyches. This legacy only became more entrenched due to the parting of the ways that occurred among Eastern Christians in the wake of the controversies of the time. Its eventual outcome was the first permanent schism in the history of the Church and the establishment of three branches of Christianity divided by their Christological views. It is therefore possible to write a history of Christology beginning from this point in the Church’s history without straying much from a certain narrative. The main terms had been defined; the central problems had been identified; and the main groups of partisans had crystallised. Further developments in terminology, conceptual clarification, and interdenominational interaction can be explained as flowing from the initial crucible of doctrinal development that occurred between the conflicting camps of the 430s and 440s.

3

Leontius of Jerusalem, Contra Nestorianos II 1 (PG 86/1, 1528D-1532A). Johannes Zachhuber, The Rise of Christian Theology and the End of Ancient Metaphysics (Oxford, 2020), 233-4 and passim. 5 Ibid. 129-40. 4

Christology in the Fourth Century: A Response

211

2. Christology before Chalcedon: the new status quaestionis Things are quite otherwise with the history of Christology before that time when terminology was fluid, conceptual disagreements complex and wideranging, and the alignment of individuals with schools or parties mostly opaque. The ensuing absence of the kind of organising centre which gives structure to later developments, poses a major methodological problem for any attempted study of earlier Christology. Perhaps the most intuitive and suggestive response to this challenge has been to understand this earlier history teleologically, that is, as the preparation of the doctrinal decisions to be taken in the fifth century and thus, as it were, as Christology before Christology. After all, a conflict such as the one between Nestorius and Cyril could hardly have happened out of thin air; it must, one reasons, have been the outcome of previous developments, whose knowledge, thus far, is necessary for the full appreciation of subsequent events. The study of fourth-century Christology can gain both legitimacy and an underlying narrative from this line of reasoning, which may explain why this approach has remained so pervasive. Yet it has the consequence that the value of specialist research largely depends on the plausibility of the teleological narrative which it presupposes. Since the nineteenth century, the study of earlier Christologies along these lines has often been pursued by stipulating the prior existence of two schools, Antiochene and Alexandrian, which paved the way for the two conflicting positions in the early fifth century. These two schools were often constructed in starkly dichotomous terms: Alexandrian Christology ‘from above’ vs. Antiochene Christology ‘from below’; Alexandrian predilection for allegorical, spiritual exegesis vs. Antiochene literalism; Alexandrian Platonism vs. Antiochene Aristotelianism. This duality, it was further assumed, was overcome in the formula of Chalcedon which corrected the overly Cyriline tendencies of the Council of Ephesus and defined Christological orthodoxy in a way that preserved important insights from both sides in the controversy while correcting and rebutting their extremes.6 Much of this narrative now looks problematic, to say the least. Chalcedon certainly did not attempt to put Cyril and the Antiochenes on an equal footing, although the many Eastern opponents of the Council were quick to claim that this was the case. As Mark Edwards put it, ‘the Chalcedonian Council was not so much a corrective to Cyrilline teaching as a ratification of his true opinion against caricatures that had been advanced in his name’7 Thus far, the later, explicit condemnation of the Antiochene tradition in the Second Council of Constantinople now looks less like a break with Chalcedon, although it did constitute a reversal of fortunes for the influence wielded by the Bishop of Rome.8 6

Mark Edwards, Catholicity and Heresy in Early Christianity (Farnham, 2009), 137-8.  Ibid. 138. 8 Patrick Gray, The Defence of Chalcedon in the East (451-553) (Leiden, 1979). 7

212

J. ZACHHUBER

The scholarly departure from the old consensus looms large in the present volume. It can be found quite explicitly in the chapter by Aaron Riches who takes his starting point from a critical engagement with Hans Urs von Balthasar, a major proponent of the traditional view. Riches’ paper impressively shows the consequences of a reinterpretation of Chalcedon for the question of fourth-century Christologies. In Balthasar’s view, Chalcedon’s rejection of mixture terminology was part and parcel of the Council’s Solomonic approach to Alexandria and Antioch, rebuking the former for its lack of distinction between divine and human natures while condemning the latter for its exaggerated emphasis on their distinction.9 With the underlying interpretation of the Council’s position crumbling, however, it becomes possible and indeed necessary to re-examine the trajectories that led to its momentous decisions and determined them. In fact, the lasting importance of the language of mixture or mingling in Christology emerges as a major topic of the papers collected in this volume. In addition to Riches’ chapter, it also features in the otherwise rather different contributions by Vito Limone and Andrew Hofer, the former tracing Origen’s Christological legacy into the fourth, and ultimately the fifth, century, the latter focussing on Augustine as a Christological thinker. Miguel Brugarolas’ careful examination of the two Gregories of Nyssa and Nazianzus, too, starts from the use of this terminology in the two Cappadocian authors. Overall, I take this as evidence that interest in the so-called Alexandrian trajectory is on the ascendancy.10 This aligns well with the revisionist interpretation of Chalcedon mentioned above, but also indicates, I believe, a greater theological appreciation of unitive Christologies and their soteriological corollary, theosis, than was the case for much of the twentieth century. The strong emphasis on what is commonly called Alexandrian Christology is, furthermore, evident from the selection of Patristic authors discussed by the contributors. These are either literally theologians from Alexandria, such as Origen, Athanasius, and Cyril or thinkers who clearly belong in this tradition, such as Gregory Nazianzen and Apollinarius. In some contributions, notably those by Vito Limone and Khaled Anatolios, ‘Alexandrian’ trajectories connecting some of these thinkers are investigated and discussed. Fascinating, furthermore, is the treatment of fathers whose Christological allegiance is less clear or debatable, but who are in the present collection claimed for the Alexandrian tradition. This is particularly noteworthy in the case of Gregory of Nyssa whose Christological ‘instincts’ might at one time have been interpreted rather differently.11 9 Hans Urs von Balthasar, Cosmic Liturgy: The Universe According to Maximus the Confessor, trans. Brian E. Daley (San Francisco, 2003), 63. 10 I retain the term while agreeing that the geographical epithet is misleading. 11 Johannes Zachhuber, Human Nature in Gregory of Nyssa: Theological Background and Theological Significance (Leiden, 1999), 195 and passim.

Christology in the Fourth Century: A Response

213

3. Gregory of Nyssa as a Christological authority Gregory’s strong presence in a volume devoted to fourth-century Christology is remarkable in and of itself. It impressively underlines his increasingly central position in the study of fourth-century theology. For a long time, students of Gregory took a rather dim view of his Christology noting, for example, that his most complete account of Christian doctrine in the Catechetical Oration has little to say about this doctrine12 or that, when confronted with Christological conflict, Gregory seemed baffled by and doubtful about the importance of this debate.13 Where he did pronounce on Christological questions, his position often seemed to veer between extremes in a way not found in his writing on other theological topics.14 Even those scholars who wrote in a more appreciative vein on the Nyssen’s Christology, such as Brian Daley, appeared to damn him with faint praise observing that his main interest was soteriological and that his Christological views had to be understood accordingly.15 Is the tide now finally turning and the Nyssen recognised as a major point of reference in Christology as well? The fact that five out of eleven chapters in the present collection (the texts by Anderson, Brugarolas, Maspero, Riches, and Vigorelli) are primarily devoted to aspects of Gregory’s Christology would seem to suggest so. Nevertheless, I must confess that, for the time being, I remain somewhat sceptical about this prospect. I do, however, accept that there is one perspective in which Gregory does indeed feature as an important representative of fourth-century Christology, that is, his Byzantine reception. As Giulio Maspero and Ilaria Vigorelli show, Gregory was considered a major authority by Emperor Justinian and the Council Fathers of 553. For them, the Nyssen became an important witness to the ‘Alexandrian’ trajectory they sought to claim for themselves over against the miaphysite charge that Chalcedonian Christology was at heart Nestorian. In this connection, Gregory’s comparison with Cyril, as done in Vigorelli’s chapter, also makes supreme sense. 4. Fourth-century Christology and its Byzantine afterlife Considering fourth-century Christology from the vantage point of later Byzantine orthodoxy overall remains a neglected area. It is, therefore, to be welcomed 12 R.J. Kees, Die Lehre von der Oikonomia Gottes in der Oratio Catechetica Gregors von Nyssa (Leiden, 1994), 289. 13 Johannes Zachhuber, ‘Gegen welchen Vorwurf muss Gregor von Nyssa sich in seinem Dritten Brief verteidigen? Neuerliche Gedanken zu einer viel diskutierten Frage’, in E. Moutsoulas (ed.), Jesus Christ in the Theology of St. Gregory of Nyssa. Proceedings of the 9th Colloquium on Gregory of Nyssa (Athens, 2005), 385-96. 14 Joseph Tixeront, Histoire des dogmes dans l’antiquité chrétienne, vol. 2 (Paris, 1912), 128. 15 Brian E. Daley, ‘Divine Transcendence and Human Transformation. Gregory of Nyssa’s AntiApollinarian Christology’, Modern Theology 18 (2002), 497-506, 503.

214

J. ZACHHUBER

that the volume includes contributions explicitly embracing figures such as Cyril, Justinian, and Maximus Confessor whose theological roots reach into the fourth century or even deeper. If systematically pursued, such an approach would bring to light the centrality of the Cappadocians, next to Cyril, for the later Christological tradition. In many ways, this runs counter to the ways in which practically all modern scholars, from Isaak August Dorner to Alois Grillmeier, have narrated, and continue to narrate, the history of Christology. One main reason for this difference is that late Patristic and early Byzantine theologians attempted to solve Christological difficulties based on terminological and conceptual analogies with trinitarian doctrine. To them this made sense as the latter had been officially defined by the fourth-century councils whose teachings had been authoritatively interpreted by Basil of Caesarea and the two Gregories. From such a perspective, the trinitarian settlement of the fourth century seamlessly led to later attempts to address the complex conundrums encountered in the doctrine of the Incarnation. Later orthodoxy, then, had no interest in what we normally take to be the history of Christology, not so much because they did not ‘historicise’ doctrine – although this was arguably the case for the relevant centuries, but because for them the successive establishment of doctrinal orthodoxy followed the move from trinitarian to Christological debate, not the idea of doctrinal growth from the earliest beginnings of Christianity. When, for example, Leontius of Byzantium wrote what was to become one of the most influential Christological treatises of the post-Chalcedonian period, Against Nestorians and Eutychians, he gave pride of place in the accompanying florilegium to two excerpts from Basil of Caesarea’s letters.16 These texts had nothing to do with Christology but set out Basil’s understanding of ousia and hypostasis; in doing so, however they laid the foundations of what to Leontius was the conceptual key for the solution of his Christological difficulties as well. 5. Fourth-century Christology on its own terms It is perhaps unnecessary to mention that the historical perspective of Byzantine authors – and to a lesser extent that of later Latin and Syriac writers – determines which of the older texts have been preserved for us and which are lost. This too, inevitably, contributes to the initially observed difficulty of writing the history of fourth-century Christology. Today’s scholarly interest in the historical emergence of the ideas that came to dominate Christological discourse from the fifth century onwards is rather different from the kind of concern later ancient 16

Leontius of Byzantium, Contra Nestorianos et Eutychianos, florilegium 1-2. Leontius of Byzantium: Complete Works, ed. and trans. Brian E. Daley (Oxford, 2017), 180. J. Zachhuber, Rise of Christian Theology (2020), 204.

Christology in the Fourth Century: A Response

215

authors had with their own traditions. It is therefore not surprising that the sources that would satisfy our own historical curiosity were, in their vast majority, not preserved by posterity. This includes most texts by those authors in the later fourth century who took a greater and more explicit interest in Christology than did Athanasius or any of the Cappadocians. Notably, the extensive literary controversy between Apolinarius of Laodicea and Diodore of Tarsus remains essentially unknown to us even though both were undoubtedly among the most respected and theologically sophisticated clerics of their time. The problem posed by the highly selective preservation of primary texts becomes more pronounced once we conceive of the history of fourth-century Christology not so much as a preparation of later developments but as a story in its own right. The contributors to this volume by and large eschew this approach the main exception being Hélène Grelier-Deneux whose fascinating text on Apolinarius’s exegesis of the Psalms offers a glimpse into the opportunities it offers. This means that debates that were central to the fourth century, notably the critical discussion of Christ’s human soul or mind, are largely absent from the volume, as are major theologians who participated in this and in related controversies, such as Eustathius of Antioch, Arius and the Arians, Eusebius of Caesarea, and Eusebius of Emesa. A quick comparison with the table of contents of the first volume of Grillmeier’s Christ in Christian Tradition is quite instructive in this regard.17 This relative lack of interest in fourth-century Christology ‘for its own sake’ and the Cyriline reinterpretation of Chalcedon may jointly explain what is arguably the most glaring omission in the present volume, namely, the practically complete absence of what used to be called the Antiochene tradition. I am certain that this is not the result of any conscious attempt by the editor or the contributors, but this only makes the fact itself more remarkable. A reader of these many excellent chapters would never guess that, apart from perhaps only Apolinarius, the authors with the most sustained interest in Christology during that period were Diodore of Tarsus and Theodore of Mopsuestia.18 The absence of the Antiochene perspective from the present volume raises a theological point as well. The mid-twentieth century consensus view on the retention of Antiochene insights in the formula of Chalcedon was not unrelated to the then predominant Christology ‘from below’, to use Pannenberg’s famous phrase.19 From the retreat of that historical assessment, then, the question arises 17

Aloys Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition. Volume 1: From the Apostolic Age to Chalcedon (451), trans. John Bowden, 2nd ed. (Atlanta, 1975), xviii-xx. 18 It is intriguing to note in this connection, however, the insistence on the marginality of these authors by Donald Fairbairn according to whom the so-called Antiochene view was held by only ‘a few people […] opposing the theological consensus of a substantial majority’: Grace and Christology in the Early Church (Oxford, 2003), 5. 19 Wolfhart Pannenberg, Jesus – God and Man, trans. Lewis L. Wilkins and Duane A. Priebe, 2nd ed. (Philadelphia, PA, 1977), 33-7.

216

J. ZACHHUBER

of what significance, if any, the Antiochene tradition has for Christology today. Are these figures really only forerunners of Nestorius, and is the latter merely a misguided heretic? These questions, I would suggest, cannot be answered or even approached without a renewed study of the Antiochene authors which today should include their later reception in the Church of the East. Such research, I would conclude from the present collection, remains an urgent desideratum in Patristic Studies. 6. Non-technical christologies prior to the fifth century I began this response with the observation of how much all later Christology was determined by the controversies of the fifth century. This can lead to a view of earlier Christologies as inchoate or less developed insofar as they lack the terminological and conceptual rigour displayed in later authors. Yet it is also possible to consider the movement from earlier to later forms of Christology in an altogether different light. Perhaps no other Christian doctrine has been viewed, at least occasionally, with as much ambiguity as Christology whose conceptual complexities far exceed those of other parts of the Christian doctrine of faith. While this complexity has made technically elaborate accounts of Christology the heart of some of the most influential theologies, from John of Damascus to Thomas Aquinas to Karl Barth, Christological accounts have also been prone to the charge of an overly technical scholasticism accompanied by a real loss of religious meaning as the price exacted for supreme doctrinal sophistication. Some theologians studying the history of Christology have therefore sought to argue for an especial value of its earlier versions. Isaak August Dorner, the nineteenth-century historian of the doctrine of the Incarnation, went out of his way to insist that the fathers prior to the fifth century had worked from a Totalanschauung (total intuition) of the person of Jesus Christ which gave legitimacy to their Christology despite the absence of elaborate formulae, or even because of it.20 Alois Grillmeier similarly emphasised the presence of a Christusbild (image of Christ) in the early fathers which in some later authors was threatened by the increasingly technical character of their Christological reflection.21 In this perspective, what could appear as a lack of perfection in earlier forms of Christology is turned into an advantage. The pre-history of the fifth-century debates regains its own dignity insofar as it testifies to a dimension of Christology beyond what can be expressed in doctrinal formulae. 20 Isaak August Dorner, Entwicklungsgeschichte der Lehre von der Person Christi von den ältesten Zeiten bis auf die neuesten (Stuttgart, 1839), 52. 21 Alois Grillmeier, Fragmente zur Christologie: Studien zum altkirchlichen Christusbild, ed. Theresia Hainthaler (Freiburg, 1997). See also G.L. Prestige, God in Patristic Thought (London, 1952), 265-81 for the charge that the later Christological debate brought a ‘triumph of formalism’.

Christology in the Fourth Century: A Response

217

While none of the authors in this collection make this specific claim, some of them emphasise the occasionally non-technical nature of fourth-century Christology. This is particularly the case in David Gwynn’s persuasive case for the pastoral dimension of Athanasius’ Christology which he distils from his Festal Letters. Pastoral concerns also feature in Brugarolas’ text on the two Gregories. Without being able here to comment on their ideas in any more depth, I commend both scholars for paying attention to an aspect of Christology which is indeed an important way to appreciate its fourth-century manifestations. 7. Conclusion As these brief comments on a rich collection of papers have hopefully made clear, the study of fourth-century Christology is important and timely for both historical and theological reasons. However fundamental the Christological cesura of the fifth century, its pre-history deserves scholarly interest both as the preparation of later developments and on its own account. Contributors to the present collection by and large follow recent suggestions according to which Cyril of Alexandria did not so much advance a party-line but built his Christological innovations on a widely shared consensus albeit in opposition to a vocal and articulate minority.22 We therefore find a picture emerging in which Cyriline Christology has its preparation in the most central fourth-century figures, notably Athanasius, Gregory of Nazianzus, and Gregory of Nyssa. Concurrently, a theological reassessment is visibly underway. Put somewhat bluntly, the mid-twentieth century concern for the human Jesus and the ethics of discipleship is giving way to a renewed appreciation of an Incarnational Christology permitting human participation in the divine. Those in the fourth century, then, who used to be criticised for their ‘physical doctrine of salvation’ (Athanasius, Gregory of Nyssa) can now be appreciated as forerunners of Cyril, not only in their soteriology but ultimately also in their Christology. A further dimension, which may be connected, is a growing willingness to include the later Byzantine reception of fourth-century figures. Only some tentative steps are here taken in this direction, but they already indicate that this perspective will only further strengthen the lines that connect Athanasius and the Cappadocians with Cyril and his heirs. There is, then, a broad, new consensus emerging, and the present collection shows how it can generate new research and contribute to novel insights. Thus far, the essays collected here demarcate the beginnings of a scholarly trajectory, not its final outcome. They serve to indicate the need for further research, open up new avenues of questioning, and lay out, in principle, a research agenda with 22

D. Fairbairn, Grace and Christology in the Early Church (2003), 5.

218

J. ZACHHUBER

the potential to reconfigure the view of fourth-century Christology that has so far dominated most of its presentations. Yet there are dangers too. Whatever Cyril’s dominance in the fifth century, an approach to fourth-century Christological history that is solely focussed on him as its vanishing point will lose sight of people and ideas that were of historical importance and remain theologically relevant in their own right even today. The impressive sweep of a teleological vision, made powerful by its alignment with the tendency of our sources, selected by posterity for this very reason, can easily obscure our ability to see the full picture of a complex period which had its own questions and concerns. Historical theologians have a responsibility to preserve these voices not only where they merge with the later chorus but also and especially where they articulate insights that were later ignored or cast aside.