Reformed Churchmen

We are Confessional Calvinists and a Prayer Book Church-people. In 2012, we remembered the 350th anniversary of the 1662 Book of Common Prayer; also, we remembered the 450th anniversary of John Jewel's sober, scholarly, and Reformed "An Apology of the Church of England." In 2013, we remembered the publication of the "Heidelberg Catechism" and the influence of Reformed theologians in England, including Heinrich Bullinger's Decades. For 2014: Tyndale's NT translation. For 2015, John Roger, Rowland Taylor and Bishop John Hooper's martyrdom, burned at the stakes. Books of the month. December 2014: Alan Jacob's "Book of Common Prayer" at: January 2015: A.F. Pollard's "Thomas Cranmer and the English Reformation: 1489-1556" at: February 2015: Jaspar Ridley's "Thomas Cranmer" at:

Friday, July 4, 2014

July Late Fourth Century A.D. Remembering the Cappadocian Theologians

July Late Fourth Century A.D.  Remembering the Cappadocian Theologians

Kelly, John N.D.  “The Cappadocian Fathers.”  Encyclopedia Britannica.  Accessed 26 Jun 2014.

The Cappadocian Fathers

Although Athanasius prepared the ground, constructive agreement on the central doctrine of the Trinity was not reached in his lifetime, either between the divided parties in the East or between East and West with their divergent traditions. The decisive contribution to the Trinitarian argument was made by a remarkable group of philosophically minded theologians from Cappadocia—Basil of Caesarea, his younger brother Gregory of Nyssa, and his lifelong friend Gregory of Nazianzus. Of aristocratic birth and consummate culture, all three were drawn to the monastic ideal, and Basil and Gregory of Nazianzus achieved literary distinction of the highest order. While their joint accomplishments in doctrinal definition were indeed outstanding, each made a noteworthy mark in other fields as well.

So far as Trinitarian dogma is concerned, the Cappadocians succeeded, negatively, in overthrowing Arianism in the radical form in which two acute thinkers, Aëtius (d. c. 366) and Eunomius (d. c. 394), had revived it in their day, and, positively, in formulating a conception of God as three Persons in one essence that eventually proved generally acceptable. The oldest of Basil’s dogmatic writings is his only partially successful Against Eunomius, the most mature his essay On the Holy Spirit. Gregory of Nyssa continued the attack on Eunomius in four massive treatises and published several more positive dogmatic essays, the most successful of which is the Great Catechetical Oration, a systematic theology in miniature. The output of Gregory of Nazianzus was much smaller, but his 45 Orations, as well as being masterpieces of eloquence, contain his classic statement of Trinitarian orthodoxy. Basil’s vast correspondence testifies to his practical efforts to reconcile divergent movements in Trinitarian thinking.

Basil is famous as a letter writer and preacher and for his views on the appropriate attitude of Christians toward Hellenistic culture; but his achievement was not less significant as a monastic legislator. His two monastic rules, used by St. Benedict and still authoritative in the Greek Orthodox Church, are tokens of this. Gregory of Nazianzus, too, was an accomplished letter writer, but his numerous, often lengthy poems have a special interest. Dogmatic, historical, and autobiographical, they are often intensely personal and lay bare his sensitive soul. On the other hand, Gregory of Nyssa, much the most speculative of the three, was an Origenist both in his allegorical interpretation of scripture and his eschatology. But he is chiefly remarkable as a pioneer of Christian mysticism, and in his Life of Moses, Homilies on Canticles, and other books he describes how the soul, in virtue of having been created in the divine image, is able to ascend, by successive stages of purification, to a vision of God.

A figure who stood in sharp contrast, intellectually and in temperament, to the Cappadocians was their contemporary, Epiphanius of Salamis, in Cyprus. A fanatical defender of the Nicene solution, he was in no sense a constructive theologian like them, but an uncritical traditionalist who rejected every kind of speculation. He was an indefatigable hammer against heretics, and his principal work, the Panarion (“Medicine Chest”), is a detailed examination of 80 heresies (20 of them pre-Christian); it is invaluable for the mass of otherwise unobtainable documents it excerpts. Conformably with Epiphanius’ contempt for classical learning, the work is written in Greek without any pretension to elegance. His particular bête noire was Origen, to whose speculations and allegorism he traced virtually all heresies.

Monastic literature

From the end of the 3rd century onward, monasticism was one of the most significant manifestations of the Christian spirit. Originating in Egypt and spreading thence to Palestine, Syria, and the whole Mediterranean world, it fostered a literature that illuminates the life of the ancient church.

Both Anthony (c. 250–355), the founder of eremitical, or solitary, monasticism in the Egyptian desert, and Ammonas (fl. c. 350), his successor as leader of his colony of anchorites (hermits), wrote numerous letters; a handful from the pen of each is extant, almost entirely in Greek or Latin translation of the Coptic originals. Those of Ammonas are particularly valuable for the history of the movement and as reflecting the uncomplicated mysticism that inspired it. The founder of monastic community life, also in Egypt, was Pachomius (c. 290–346), and the extremely influential rule that he drew up has been preserved, mainly in a Latin translation made by Jerome.

Though these and other early pioneers were simple, practical men, monasticism received a highly cultivated convert in 382 in Evagrius Ponticus. He was the first monk to write extensively and was in the habit of arranging his material in groups of a hundred aphorisms, or “centuries,” a literary form that he invented and that was to have a great vogue in Byzantine times. A master of the spiritual life, he classified the eight sins that undermine the monk’s resolution and also the ascending levels by which the soul rises to wordless contemplation. Later condemned as an Origenist, he was deeply influential in the East, and, through John Cassian, in the West as well.

Side by side with works composed by monks there sprang up a literature concerned with them and the monastic movement. Much of it was biographical, the classic example being Athanasius’ Life of St. Antony . Sulpicius Severus (c. 363–c. 420) took this work as his model when early in the 5th century he wrote his Life of St. Martin of Tours, the first Western biography of a monastic hero and the pattern of a long line of medieval lives of saints. But it was Palladius (c. 363–before 431), a pupil of Evagrius Ponticus, who proved to be the principal historian of primitive monasticism. His Lausiac History (so called after Lausus, the court chamberlain to whom he dedicated it), composed about 419/420, describes the movement in Egypt, Palestine, Syria, and Asia Minor. Since much of the work is based on personal reminiscences or information received from observers, it is, despite the legendary character of many of its narratives, an invaluable source book.

Finally, no work so authentically conveys the spirit of Egyptian monasticism as the Apophthegmata Patrum (“Sayings of the Fathers”). Compiled toward the end of the 5th century, but using much older material, it is a collection of pronouncements of the famous desert personalities and anecdotes about them. The existing text is in Greek, but it probably derives from an oral tradition in Coptic.

The school of Antioch

Antioch, like Alexandria, was a renowned intellectual centre, and a distinctive school of Christian theology flourished there and in the surrounding region throughout the 4th and the first half of the 5th century. In contrast to the Alexandrian school, it was characterized by a literalist exegesis and a concern for the completeness of Christ’s manhood. Little is known of its traditional founder, the martyr-priest Lucian (d. 312), except that he was a learned biblical scholar who revised the texts of the Septuagint and the New Testament. His strictly theological views, though a mystery, must have been heterodox, for Arius, Eusebius of Nicomedia, and other Arians claimed to be his disciples (“fellow Lucianists”), and Bishop Alexander of Alexandria, who denounced them, lists Lucian among those who influenced them. But Eustathius of Antioch, the champion of Nicene orthodoxy, is probably more representative of the school, with his antipathy to what he regarded as Origen’s excessive allegorism and his recognition, as against the Arians, of the presence of a human soul in the incarnate Christ.

It was, however, much later in the 4th century, in the person of Diodore of Tarsus (c. 330–c. 390), that the School of Antioch began to reach the height of its fame. Diodore courageously defended Christ’s divinity against Julian the Apostate, the Roman emperor who attempted to revive paganism, and in his lifetime was regarded as a pillar of orthodoxy. Later critics detected anticipations of Nestorianism (the heresy upholding the division of Christ’s Person) in his teaching, and as a result his works, apart from some meagre fragments, have perished. They were evidently voluminous and wide-ranging, covering exegesis, apologetics, polemics, and even astronomy; and he not only strenuously opposed Alexandrian allegorism but also expounded the Antiochene theoria, or principle for discovering the deeper intention of scripture and at the same time remaining loyal to its literal sense.

In stature and intellectual power Diodore was overshadowed by his two brilliant pupils, Theodore of Mopsuestia (c. 350–428/429) and John Chrysostom (c. 347–407). Both had also studied under the famous pagan Sophist rhetorician Libanius (314–393), thereby illustrating the cross-fertilization of pagan and Christian cultures at this period. Like Diodore, Theodore later fell under the imputation of Nestorianism, and the bulk of his enormous literary output—comprising dogmatic as well as exegetical works—was lost. Fortunately, the 20th century has seen the recovery of a few important texts in Syriac translations (notably his Commentary on St. John and his Catechetical Homilies), as well as the reconstruction of the greater part of his Commentary on the Psalms. This fresh evidence confirms that Theodore was not only the most acute of the Antiochene exegetes, deploying the hermeneutics (critical interpretive principles) of his school in a thoroughly scientific manner, but also an original theologian who, despite dangerous tendencies, made a unique contribution to the advancement of Christology. His Catechetical Homilies are immensely valuable both for understanding his ideas and for the light they throw on sacramental doctrine and liturgical practice.

In contrast to Theodore, John was primarily a preacher; indeed he was one of the most accomplished of Christian orators and amply merited his title “Golden-Mouthed” (Chrysostomos). With the exception of a few practical treatises and a large dossier of letters, his writings consist entirely of addresses, the majority being expository of the Bible. There he shows himself a strict exponent of Antiochene literalism, reserved in exploiting even the traditional typology (i.e., treatment of Old Testament events and so forth as prefigurative of the new Christian order) but alert to the moral and pastoral lessons of his texts. This interest, combined with his graphic descriptive powers, makes his sermons a mirror of the social, cultural, and ecclesiastical conditions in contemporary Antioch and Constantinople, as well as of his own compassionate concern as a pastor. Indefatigable in denouncing heresy, he was not an original thinker; on the other hand, he was outstanding as a writer, and connoisseurs of rhetoric have always admired the grace and simplicity of his style in some moods, its splendour and pathos in others.

The last noteworthy Antiochene, Theodoret of Cyrrhus (c. 393–c. 458), in Syria, was also an elegant stylist. His writings were encyclopaedic in range, but the most memorable perhaps are his Remedy for Greek Maladies, the last of ancient apologies against paganism; and his Ecclesiastical History, continuing Eusebius’ work down to 428. His controversial treatises are also important, for he skillfully defended the Antiochene Christology against the orthodox Bishop Cyril of Alexandria and was instrumental in getting its more valuable features recognized at the Council of Chalcedon. He was a scholar with a comprehensive and eclectic mind, and his large correspondence testifies to his learning and mastery of Greek prose as well as illustrating the history and intellectual life of the age.

The schools of Edessa and Nisibis

Parallel with its richer and better-known Greek and Latin counterparts, an independent Syriac Christian literature flourished inside, and later outside (in Persia), the frontiers of the Roman Empire from the early 4th century onward. Aphraates, an ascetic cleric under whose name 23 treatises written between 336 and 345 have survived, is considered the first Syriac Father. Deeply Christian in tone, these tracts present a primitive theology, with no trace of Hellenistic influence but a firm grasp and skillful use of scripture. Edessa and Nisibis (now Urfa and Nusaybin in southeast Turkey) were the creative centres of this literature. Edessa had been a focus of Christian culture well before 200; the old Syriac version of the New Testament and Tatian’s Diatessaron, as well as a mass of Syriac apocryphal writings, probably originated there.

The chief glory of Edessene Christianity was Ephraem Syrus (c. 306–373), the classic writer of the Syrian Church who established his school of theology there when Nisibis, its original home and his own birthplace, was ceded to Persia under the peace treaty of 363, after the death of Julian the Apostate. In his lifetime Ephraem had a reputation as a brilliant preacher, commentator, controversialist, and above all, sacred poet. His exegesis shows Antiochene tendencies, but as a theologian he championed Nicene orthodoxy and attacked Arianism. His hymns, many in his favourite seven-syllable metre, deal with such themes as the Nativity, the Epiphany, and the Crucifixion or else are directed against skeptics and heretics. His Carmina Nisibena (“Songs of Nisibis”) make a valuable source book for historians, especially for information about the frontier wars.

After Ephraem’s death in 373, the school at Edessa developed his lively interest in exegesis and became increasingly identified with the Antiochene line in theology. Among those responsible for this was one of its leading instructors, Ibas (d. 457), who worked energetically translating Theodore of Mopsuestia’s commentaries and disseminating his Christological views. His own stance on the now urgent Christological issue was akin to that of Theodoret of Cyrrhus—roughly midway between Nestorius’ dualism and the Alexandrian doctrine of one nature—and he bluntly criticized Cyril’s position in his famous letter to Maris (433), the sole survivor (in a Greek translation) of his abundant works; it was one of the Three Chapters anathematized by the second Council of Constantinople (553).

The frankly Antiochene posture typified by Ibas brought the school into collision with Rabbula, bishop of Edessa from 412 to 435, an uncompromising supporter of Cyril and the Alexandrian Christology. As well as writing numerous letters, hymns, and a sermon against Nestorius, Rabbula translated Cyril’s De recta fide (Concerning the Correct Faith) into Syriac and also probably compiled the revised Syriac version of the four Gospels (contained in the Peshitta) in order to oust Tatian’s Diatessaron. On his death he was succeeded by Ibas, who predictably exerted his influence in an Antiochene direction.

Another eminent Edessene writer was Narses (d. c. 503), who became one of the formative theologians of the Nestorian Church. He was the author of extensive commentaries, now lost, and of metrical homilies, dialogue songs, and liturgical hymns. In 447, when a Monophysite reaction set in, he was expelled from Edessa along with Barsumas, the head of the school, but they promptly set up a new school at Nisibis on Persian territory. The school at Edessa was finally closed, because of its Nestorian leanings, by the emperor Zeno in 489, but its offshoot at Nisibis flourished for more than 200 years and became the principal seat of Nestorian culture. At one time it had as many as 800 students and was able to ensure that the then prosperous church in Persia was Nestorian. On the other hand, Philoxenus of Mabbug, who had studied at Edessa in the second half of the 5th century and was one of the most learned of Syrian theologians, was a vehement advocate of Monophysitism. His 13 homilies on the Christian life and his letters reveal him as a fine prose writer; but he is chiefly remembered for the revision of the Syriac translation of the Bible (the so-called Philoxenian version) for which he was responsible and which was used by Syrian Monophysites in the 6th century.

The Chalcedonian Fathers

From about 428 onward Christology became an increasingly urgent subject of debate in the East and excited interest in the West as well. Two broad positions had defined themselves in the 4th century. Among Alexandrian theologians the “Word-flesh” approach was preferred, according to which the Word had assumed human flesh at the Incarnation; Christ’s possession of a human soul or mind was either denied or ignored. Antiochene theologians, on the other hand, consistently upheld the “Word-man” approach, according to which the Word had united himself to a complete man; this position ran the risk, unless carefully handled, of so separating the divinity and the humanity as to imperil Christ’s personal unity.

Apollinarius the Younger (c. 310–c. 390) had brilliantly exposed the logical implications of the Alexandrian view; although condemned as a heretic, he had forced churchmen of all schools to recognize, though with varying degrees of practical realism, a human mind in the Redeemer. His writings were systematically destroyed, but the remaining fragments confirm his intellectual acuteness as well as his literary skill. The crisis of the 5th century was precipitated by the proclamation by Nestorius, patriarch of Constantinople—pushing Antiochene tendencies to extremes—of a Christology that seemed to many to imply two Sons. Nestorius held that Mary was not only Theotokos (“God-bearing”) but also anthropotokos (“man-bearing”), though he preferred the term Christotokos (“Christ-bearing”). In essence, he was attempting to protect the concept of the humanity of Christ. The controversy raged with extraordinary violence from 428 to 451, when the Council of Chalcedon hammered out a formula that at the time seemed acceptable to most and that attempted to do justice to the valuable insights of both traditions.

A number of theologians and ecclesiastics either prepared the way for or contributed to the Chalcedonian solution. Three who deserve mention are Theodoret of Cyrrhus, Proclus of Constantinople, and John Cassian. The first was probably responsible for drafting the Formula of Union (433) that became the basis of the Chalcedonian Definition. Proclus was an outstanding pulpit orator, and several of his sermons as well as seven letters concerned with the controversy have been preserved; he worked indefatigably to reconcile the warring factions. Cassian prepared the West for the controversy by producing in 430, at the request of the deacon (later pope) Leo, a weighty treatise against Nestorius.

But much the most important, not least because they approached the debate from different standpoints, were Cyril of Alexandria and Pope Leo the Great. Cyril had been the first to denounce Nestorius, and in a whole series of letters and dogmatic treatises he drove home his critique and expounded his own positive theory of hypostatic (substantive, or essential) union. He secured the condemnation of Nestorius at the Council of Ephesus (431), and his own letters were canonically approved at Chalcedon. A convinced adherent of the Alexandrian Word-flesh Christology, he deepened his understanding of the problem as the debate progressed; but his preferred expression for the unity of the Redeemer remained “one incarnate nature of the Word,” which he mistakenly believed to derive from Athanasius. Leo provided the necessary balance to this with his famous Dogmatic Letter, also endorsed at Chalcedon, which affirmed the coexistence of two complete natures, united without confusion, in the one Person of the Incarnate Word, or Christ.

In patristic literature, however, the interest of both Cyril and Leo extends far beyond Christology. Cyril published essays on the Trinitarian issue against the Arians and also commentaries on Old and New Testament books. If the former show little originality, his exegesis marked a reaction against the more fanciful Alexandrian allegorism and a concentration on the strictly typological significance of the text. Leo, for his part, was a notable preacher and one of the greatest of popes. His short, pithy sermons, clear and elegant in style, set a fine model for pulpit oratory in the West; and his numerous letters give an impressive picture of his continuous struggle to promote orthodoxy and the interests of the Roman see.

Non-Chalcedonian Fathers

The Chalcedonian settlement was not achieved without some of the leading participants in the debate that preceded it being branded as heretics because their positions fell outside the limits accepted as permissible. It also left to subsequent generations a legacy of misunderstanding and division.

The outstanding personalities in the former category were Nestorius and Eutyches. It was Nestorius whose imprudent brandishing of extremist Antiochene theses—particularly his reluctance to grant the title of Theotokos to Mary, mother of Jesus—had touched off the controversy. Only fragments of his works remain, for after his condemnation their destruction was ordered by the Byzantine government, but these have been supplemented by the discovery, in a Syriac translation, of his Book of Heraclides of Damascus. Written late in his life, when Monophysitism had become the bogey, this is a prolix apology in which Nestorius pleads that his own beliefs are identical with those of Leo and the new orthodoxy. Eutyches, on the other hand, an over-enthusiastic follower of Cyril, was led by his antipathy to Nestorianism into the opposite error of confusing the natures. He contended that there was only one nature after the union of divinity and humanity in the Incarnate Word, and he was thus the father of Monophysitism in the strict, and not merely verbal, sense.

After the Council of Ephesus in 431 the eastern bishops of Nestorian sympathies gradually formed a separate Nestorian Church on Persian soil, with the see of its patriarch at Ctesiphon on the Tigris. Edessa and then Nisibis were its theological and literary centres. But a much wider body of eastern Christians, particularly from Egypt and Palestine, found the Chalcedonian dogma of “two natures” a betrayal of the truth as stated by their hero Cyril. For the next two centuries the struggle between these Monophysites and strict Chalcedonians to secure the upper hand convulsed the Eastern Church. Among the Monophysites it produced theologians of high calibre and literary distinction, notably the moderate Severus of Antioch (c. 465–538), who while contending stoutly for “one nature after the union” was equally insistent on the reality of Christ’s humanity. His contemporary Julian of Halicarnassus taught the more radical doctrine that, through union with the Word, Christ’s body had been incorruptible and immortal from the moment of the Incarnation.

In the 7th century, inspired by the need for unity in the face of successive Persian and Arab attacks, an attempt was made to reconcile the Monophysite dissenters with the orthodox Chalcedonians. The formula, which it was thought might prove acceptable to both, asserted that, though Christ had two natures, he had only one activity—i.e., one divine will. This doctrine, Monothelitism, stimulated an intense theological controversy but was subjected to profound and far-reaching criticism by Maximus the Confessor, who perceived that, if Christians are to find in Christ the model for their freedom and individuality, his human nature must be complete and therefore equipped with a human will. The formula was condemned as heretical at the third Council of Constantinople of 680–681.

The post-Nicene Latin Fathers

Latin Christian literature in this period was slower than Greek in getting started, and it always remained sparser. Indeed, the first half of the 4th century produced only Julius Firmicus Maternus, author not only of the most complete treatise on astrology bequeathed by antiquity to the modern world but also of a fierce diatribe against paganism that has the added interest of appealing to the state to employ force to repress it and its immoralities. From Africa, rent asunder by Donatism, the heretical movement that rejected the efficacy of sacraments administered by priests who had denied their faith under persecution, came the measured anti-Donatist polemic of Optatus of Milevis, writing in 366 or 367, whose line of argument anticipates Augustine’s later attack against the Donatists.

Much more significant than either, however, was Gaius Marius Victorinus, the brilliant professor whose conversion in 355 caused a sensation at Rome. Obscure but strikingly original in his writings, he was an effective critic of Arianism and sought to present orthodox Trinitarianism in uncompromisingly Neoplatonic terms. His speculations about the inner life of the triune Godhead were to be taken up by Augustine.

Three remarkable figures, all different, dominate the second half of the century. The first, Hilary of Poitiers, was a considerable theologian, next to Augustine the finest produced by the West in the patristic epoch. For years he deployed his exceptional gifts in persuading the anti-Arian groups to abandon their traditional catchwords and rally round the Nicene formula, which they had tended to view with suspicion. Often unfairly described as a popularizer of Eastern ideas, he was an original thinker whose scriptural commentaries and perceptive Trinitarian studies brought fresh insights. The second, Ambrose of Milan, was an outstanding ecclesiastical statesman, equally vigilant for orthodoxy against Arianism as for the rights of the church against the state. Both in his dogmatic treatises and in his largely allegorical, pastorally oriented exegetical works he relied heavily on Greek models. One of the pioneers of Catholic moral theology, he also wrote hymns that are still sung in the liturgy.

The third, Jerome, was primarily a biblical scholar. His enormous commentaries are erudite but unequal in quality; the earlier ones were greatly influenced by Origen’s allegorism, but the ones written later, when he had turned against Origen, were more literalist and historical in their exegesis. Jerome’s crowning gift to the Western Church and Western culture was the Vulgate translation of the Bible. Prompted by Pope Damasus, he thoroughly revised the existing Latin versions of the Gospels; the Old Testament he translated afresh from the Hebrew. His historical and polemical writings (the latter full of sarcasm and invective) are all interesting, and his rich correspondence supremely so. As a stylist he wrote with a verve and brilliance unmatched in Latin patristic literature.

The two foremost Christian Latin poets of ancient times, Prudentius and Paulinus of Nola, also belong to this half-century. Both used the old classical forms with considerable skill, filling them with a fresh Christian spirit. Prudentius’ work is both the finer in quality and the more wide-ranging; in his Psychomachia (“The Contest of the Soul”), he introduced an allegorical form that made an enormous appeal to the Middle Ages. Paulinus is also interesting for his extensive correspondence, much admired in his own day, which kept him in close touch with many leading Christian contemporaries.

All these figures are overshadowed by the towering genius of Augustine (354–430). The range of his writings was enormous: they comprise profound discussions of Christian doctrine (notably his De Trinitate, or On the Trinity); sustained and carefully argued polemics against heresies (Manichaeism, a dualistic religion; Donatism; and Pelagianism, a view that emphasized free will); exegesis, homilies, and ordinary sermons; and a vast collection of letters. His two best-known works, the Confessions and The City of God, broke entirely fresh ground, the one being both an autobiography and an interior colloquy between the soul and God, the other perhaps the most searching study ever made of the theology of history and of the fundamental contrast between Christianity and the world. On almost every issue he handled—the problem of evil, creation, grace and free will, the nature of the church—Augustine opened up lines of thought that are still debated. The prose style he used matched the level of his argument, having a rich texture, subtle assonance, and grave beauty that were new in Latin.

In part recovered in recent years, the works of Pelagius (fl. 405–418) show him to have been a writer and thinker of high quality. Early in the 5th century, when the monasteries of southern Gaul became active intellectual centres, Vincent of Lérins and John Cassian published critiques of Augustine’s extreme positions on grace and free will, proposing the alternative doctrine called Semi-Pelagianism, which held that humans by their own free will could desire life with God. This in turn was criticized by able writers like Prosper of Aquitaine (c. 390–c. 463) and the celebrated preacher Caesarius of Arles (470–542) and was condemned at the Council of Orange (529). Cassian, however, a firsthand student of Eastern monasticism, is chiefly important for his studies of the monastic life, based on material collected in the East. The rules he formulated were freely drawn upon a century later by St. Benedict of Nursia, the reformer of Western monasticism, when Benedict composed his famous and immensely influential rule at Monte Cassino.

The 6th century marks the final phase of Latin patristic literature, which includes several notable figures, of whom Boethius (480–524), philosopher and statesman, is the most distinguished. His Consolation of Philosophy was widely studied in the Middle Ages, but he also composed technically philosophical works, including translations of, and commentaries on, Aristotle. Beside him should be set his longer-lived contemporary, Cassiodorus (c. 490–c. 585), who, as well as encouraging the study of Greek and Latin classics and the copying of manuscripts in monasteries, was himself the author of theological, historical, and encyclopaedic treatises. Also notable is Venantius Fortunatus (c. 540–c. 600), an accomplished poet whose hymns, such as “Vexilla regis” (“The royal banners forward go”) and “Pange lingua” (“Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle”), are still sung. Finally, Gregory the Great (c. 540–604) was so prolific and successful an author as to earn the title of Fourth Doctor of the Latin Church. Although unoriginal theologically and reflecting the credulity of the age, his works (which include the earliest life of St. Benedict) made an enormous appeal to the medieval mind.

Later Greek Fathers

The closing phase of patristic literature lasted longer in the Greek East than in the Latin West, where the decline of culture was hastened by barbarian inroads. But even in the East a slackening of effort and originality was becoming perceptible in the latter half of the 5th century. A clear illustration of this is provided by the practice of substituting chain commentaries composed of excerpts from earlier exegetes and anthologies of opinions of respected past theologians for independent exposition and speculation.

Yet the picture was not altogether dim. In the strictly theological field, Leontius of Byzantium (d. c. 545) showed ability and originality in reinterpreting the Chalcedonian Christology along the lines of St. Cyril with the aid of the increasingly favoured Aristotelian philosophy. Two other writers, very different from him and from each other, revived in the late 5th and early 6th centuries the brilliance of past generations. One was the figure who called himself Dionysius the Areopagite (c. 500), the unidentified author of theological and mystical treatises that were destined to have an enormous influence. Based on a synthesis of Christian dogma and Neoplatonism, his work exalts the negative theology (God is understood by what he is not) and traces the soul’s ascent from a dialectical knowledge of God to mystical union with him. The other is Romanos Melodos (fl. 6th century), greatest hymnist of the Eastern Church, who invented the kontakion, an acrostic verse sermon in many stanzas with a recurring refrain. The sweep, pathos, and grandeur of his compositions give him a high place of honour among religious poets.

With Maximus the Confessor and John of Damascus the end of the patristic epoch is reached. Maximus was a major critic of Monothelitism; he was also a remarkable constructive thinker whose speculative and mystical doctrines were held in unity by his vision of the incarnation as the goal of history. Writing early in the 8th century, John was chiefly influential through his comprehensive presentation of the teaching of the Greek Fathers on the principal Christian doctrines. But in constructing his synthesis he added at many points a finishing touch of his own; his writings in defense of images, prepared to counter the Iconoclasts (those who advocated destruction of religious images, or icons), were original and important; and he was the author of striking poems, some of which found a place in the Greek liturgy.

The character of the heritage

For 400 or 500 years, when secular culture was slowly but steadily in decline, the patristic writers breathed new life into the Greek and Latin languages and created Syriac as a literary medium. Even when the period came to an end, the halt was really only a temporary pause until the impulses behind it could force other outlets. The literature of the later Byzantine Empire looked back to and drew nourishment from the golden centuries of the Fathers, while Latin Christian letters experienced more than one renascence in the Middle Ages.

The range and variety, too, of the literature are impressive. Its overwhelmingly theological concern necessarily imposed understandable but serious limitations, but, when these have been allowed for, the Christian writers must be acknowledged to have been remarkably successful at molding the traditional literary forms to their new purposes and also at improvising fresh ones adapted to their special situations. Aesthetically considered, patristic literature contains much that is mediocre and even shoddy, but also a great deal that by any standards reaches the heights. And it has a unique interest as the creation of an immensely dynamic and far-reachingly important religious movement during the centuries when it could dominate the whole of life and society.

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