Adolf Harnack · 11 of 19

1. The Nestorian Controversy.

§ 1. The Nestorian Controversy.

I. The most zealous opponents of Apollinaris were his compatriots and scientific friends, the Antiochian theologians, distinguished by methodical study of Scripture, sober thinking in imitation of Aristotle, and the strictest asceticism. They alone had during many decades worked out the Christological dogma in a scientific way in opposition to Arius and Apollinaris. Following the example of Diodorus of Tarsus, Theodorus of Mopsuestia treated it with the greatest fulness by making use of the philosophical theological fundamental conceptions which Paul of Samosata had already employed, and by turning to account the biblical results of the exegetical labours of the school of Antioch. The Antiochians based their position on the Ὁμοούσιος and did not wish either to interfere with the divine personality of the Logos. But at the same time they fully accepted the perfect humanity of Christ. The most important characteristic of perfect humanity is its freedom. The thought that Christ possessed a free will was the lode-star of their Christology. To this was added the other thought that the nature of the Godhead is absolutely unchangeable and incapable of suffering. Both of these thoughts have at least no concern with the belief in the real of humanity from sin and death through the God-man. The Christology of the Antiochians was therefore not soteriologically determined; on the contrary, the realistic-soteriological elements were attached to it by way of supplement.

In the view of the Antiochians it followed from the premises above mentioned, that Christ possessed, strictly speaking, two natures and that the supposition of a natural union (ἕνωσις φυσική, ἕνωσις καθ᾽ ὑπόστασιν) was prejudicial both to the humanity and the divinity of Christ, as the doctrines of Arius and Apollinaris shewed. It was, on the contrary, necessary to maintain that the God-Logos assumed a perfect man of the race of David and united him with Himself. He dwelt (ἐνοίκησις) in the man Jesus from the time of the conception. This indwelling is to be conceived of according to the analogy of the indwelling of God in men generally. It is not a substantial indwelling, not κατ᾽ οὐσίαν, for this involves a transmutation or else limits the God-head. Nor is it any mere indwelling of inspiration, but a gracious indwelling,κατὰ χάριν (κατ᾽ εὐδοκίαν), i.e., God out of and in accordance with His own good pleasure has united Himself with the man Jesus in the way in which He unites Himself with every pious soul, only that in the case of Jesus the union was besides a perfect one in virtue of the perfection of his piety. It is to be thought of as a species of combination (συνάφεια), or we may express it thus: God dwells in the man as in a temple. The human nature, therefore, as nature remains purely unchanged, for grace leaves the nature as it is. This nature, then, like all human nature, was also a free self-developing nature. As man Jesus Christ had to pass through all the stages of moral growth as a free self-acting agent. Over him and in him God did undoubtedly always hold sway as a supporting power, but He did not interfere with the development of the character belonging to his human nature, which by independent action confirmed itself in the good.

In accordance with this the union was only a relative one (ἕνωσις σχετική) and was at the outset only relatively perfect, i.e., the God-Logos united Himself with the man Jesus as early as the time of his conception, forseeing of what sort he would be (κατὰ πρό̥γνωσιν ὁποῖός τις ἔσται), but this union merely began then in order to become a more intimate union at every stage of the human development. It consisted in the common feeling and energy of the two natures as well as in the common direction given to the will; it was therefore essentially a moral union. By means of it, however, there appeared at the close of the human development of Jesus and in virtue of the elevation which was granted to him as the reward of his , a subject or individual worthy of adoration, (I separate the natures, I unite the adoration: χωρίζω τὰς φύσεις, ἑνῶ τὴν προσκύνησιν). Still we must not speak of two sons or two lords, but, on the contrary, we have to adore one person, whose unity, however, is not a substantial one, but κατὰ χάριν. The formula of the distinction of the natures and the unity of the person is to be found in Theodore. But the unity of the person is the unity of names, of honour, of adoration. Since, however, each nature in Christ is at the same time person, it was here that the peculiar difficulty of the Antiochian Christology made its appearance. The union does not at bottom result in any unity of the person; it is merely nominal. The Antiochians had two persons in Christ, a divine and a human (δύο ὑποστάσεις or πρόσωπα). When, spite of this, they spoke of one, this was really a third, or rather, to put it more correctly, it was only in the combination (συνάφεια), and indeed in the last resort it was only in the relation of believers to Jesus Christ that the latter appeared as a unity.

It was in accordance with this that the conception of the took its shape. Two natures are two subjects; for a subjectless or impersonal spiritual nature does not exist Since accordingly one subject cannot become the other, for if it did it would either have to cease to exist itself or would have to transform itself, it is also impossible that the Logos can have become man. It is only in appearance that He became something through the incarnation, through “becoming man”; in reality He assumes something in addition to what He had. Since the sphere of the unity is solely the will, the attributes, experiences, and acts of the two natures are to be kept strictly apart. It was the man only who was born; it was he who suffered, trembled, was afraid, died. To maintain that this could be said of God is both absurd and blasphemous. So too accordingly Mary is not to be called the mother of God, not at least in the proper sense of the term. But the Christian adores Jesus Christ as the one Lord, because God has also raised to divine dignity the man who in feeling was united with the Logos so as to form a unity.

In accordance with this conception, though certainly invitis autoribus, the humanity in the person of Christ came again to the front as a humanity which experienced merely the effects produced by the divine Logos who remained in the background. Since the distinction between person and nature was not fundamental, was not made in a realistic way, that is, and since the possibility of the substantial union of two persons was denied as we can see already from the case of Paul of Samosata, since further, in opposition to Paul, the Godhead in Christ was recognised as being a substantial Godhead, unity was not attained, as opponents at a later time justly observed. When again, as in the case of the Antiochians, an approach was made towards this unity, then the divine factor, contrary to the pre-supposition which was strictly clung to, threatened to become an inspiring and supporting power, and hence the reproach brought against them of Ebionitism, Somosatenism, Photinianism, or of Judaising. It would appear that the Antiochians rarely took the doctrine of redemption and perfection as the starting-point of their arguments, or when they did, they conceived of it in such a way that the question is not of a restitution, but of the still defective perfection of the human race, a question of the new second katastasis. The natural condition of humanity, of which liability to death forms a part, can be improved; humanity can be raised above itself by means of a complete emancipation from the sense life and by moral effort. This possibility, which lies open to everyone who summons up courage to raise himself by the exercise of free will above his inherited nature, has become a fact through Christ the second Adam. This fact has an immeasurable significance, for its effects now uphold everyone who honestly strives so to raise himself. The second Adam who has already appeared will once more appear from heaven ἐπὶ τῷ πάντας εἰς μίμησιν ἄγειν ἑαυτοῦ—in order to bring all to imitate him. He already points out to all “the path to the angelic life”, and, judging from the way in which they sometimes work out the thought, it almost looks as if in the view of the Antiochians the whole thing reduced itself to this alone. The hints given here towards a spiritual conception of the redemption through Christ have not, as one can see, resulted from perceiving that everything depends on a transformation of the feelings and will, and in the case of the Antiochians themselves they have by no means entirely displaced the realistic and mystical conception of redemption. In the indefinite form which is peculiar to them, they were thoughts of reason and results of exegesis, but not thoughts of faith. We hail them as cheering proofs of the fact that the feeling of the spiritual character of the Christian religion had not at that time wholly died out amongst the Greeks; but there can be no doubt of this, that these Antiochians were further away from the thought of redemption as the forgiveness of sins and than from the idea of a realistic redemption. While in Christology they illustrated in an admirable way the weak side and in fact the impossibility of this idea, they did not understand how to point these out in reference to soteriology itself. The latter was with them always vague and tinged with a strongly moralistic element. Its connection with the Christology was loose and indefinite, while the development of the latter in the form of positive doctrines was no less questionable, contradictory and uncouth than the theses of their opponents; for the Antiochians out of one being made two and thereby introduced an innovation into the Church of the East. Only Gnostics had before them taught the doctrine of two strictly different natures in Christ. The fact too that the redemption work of Christ was essentially attributed to the man Jesus and not to God was a further innovation. It was a flagrant contradiction that Theodore would not entertain the idea of two Sons although he assumed the presence of two natures and rejected the thought of an impersonal nature. But though we might criticise the Christology of the Antiochians still more severely, we must not forget that they held up before the Church the picture of the historical Christ at a time when the Church in its doctrinal formulæ was going further away from Him. One has indeed to add that they also directed attention to the incomprehensible essence of the God-Logos which ostensibly remained behind this picture, and did not on that account possess the power of presenting the historical Christ to the minds of men in a forcible way. But still that these theologians should have done what they did at that time was of immeasurable importance. It is to them the Church owes it that its Christology did not entirely become the development of an idea of Christ which swallowed up the historical Christ. And there is still something else for which these Antiochians are to be praised. Although they professed to preserve the traditional elements of dogma as a whole, they nevertheless essentially modified them by perceiving that every spiritual nature is a person and that what gives character and value to the person is feeling and will. This view, which was inherited from the Adoptionists and Paul, restores to the Christian religion its strictly spiritual character. But the Antiochians as Easterns were able to get possession of this knowledge only in a way which led from religion to moralism, because they based the spiritual on freedom, while again they understood freedom in the sense of independence even in relation to God. It was Augustine in his thought of liberty as “adhærere deo” and as “necessitas boni” who first united the most ardent piety with the recognition of Christianity as the spiritual-moral religion. It is, however, worth remembering that alone of all the Easterns the Antiochians and the theologians who sympathised with them took an interest in the Augustinian- controversy—though they undoubtedly sided with Pelagius. For this interest proves that spite of the Eastern fog of mysteries, they were accessible to the freer air in which that controversy was fought out. Their opponents in the East wished to have mystery and spiritual freedom side by side; they, however, strove to lift the whole of religion up into the sphere of the latter—and they led it in the direction of moralism. What confused the Antiochian theology and involved it in contradictions was apparently the load of tradition, i.e., the adhesion to the belief that Jesus Christ possessed a divine nature. This belief, however, constituted the strong foundation of the theology of their opponents. Their Christology was built up on this thesis. For the Antiochians it was simply a fact to which they had to adapt themselves, although they had not themselves felt its truth in this form.

The view adopted by the Alexandrians, above all by Cyril, is undoubtedly the ancient view, that namely of Irenæus, Athanasius, and the Cappadocians, even when we make allowance for the falsification of tradition by the Apollinarians. The interest they had in seeing in Christ the most perfect unity of the divine and human, and therefore their interest in the reality of our redemption, determined the character of the development of the doctrines. Up till the year 431, and even beyond that time, this was wanting in formal thoroughness and scientific precision. This is as little an accident as the fact that Athanasius supplied no scientific doctrine of the . The belief in the real incarnation of God was only capable of the scientific treatment which Apollinaris had given it. If this were forbidden then theologians were debarred from all treatment of the subject with the exception of the merely analytic and descriptive or scholastic mode of treatment. This latter was not, however, yet in existence. But also apart from this, belief in the real incarnation simply demanded a forcible and definite statement of the secret, nothing more: σιωπῇ προσκυνείσθω τὸ ἄρρητον—let the secret be adored in silence. We must live in the feeling of this secret. This is why Cyril also stated his faith in what was essentially a polemical form only; he would not have taken long to have given a purely positive statement of it. Therefore it is that without knowing it he has recourse to Apollinarian works when he wishes to bring forward a plain and intelligible formula in opposition to the Antiochians and so to make the mystery clearer—and he is continually in danger of over-stepping the limits of his own religious thought—and therefore it is finally, that his terminology has so little fixity about it. Still he vindicated the religious thought of Greek piety: (“If the God-Logos did not suffer for us in a human way then He did not accomplish our salvation in a divine way, and if He was only man or a mere instrument then we are not truly redeemed.” “Our Immanuel would not in any way have benefited us by His death if He had been a man; but we are redeemed because the God-Logos gave His own body to death.”) Neither Cyril’s personal character nor the way in which he devised and carried on the controversy ought to be allowed to lead us astray as regards this fact: for his Christianity did not succeed in making him just.

It was as easy for Cyril to formulate the thought of faith as it was for Athanasius and the Cappadocians. Faith does not in his case start from the historical Christ, but from the Θεὸς λόγος, and is occupied only with Him. By the Incarnation the God-Logos incorporated with Himself the whole human nature and still remained the same. He did not transform Himself, but He took up humanity into the unity of His substance, without losing any of it; on the contrary, He honoured it and raised it into His divine substance. He is the same with human nature as He was before the Incarnation, the one indivisible subject which merely added something to itself just in order to take up into its nature this something thus added. Everything which the human body and the human soul of the God-Logos endured, He Himself endured, for they are His body and His soul. The characteristic moments in this conception are “one and the same” (εἷς κὰι ὁ αὐτός) that is, the God-Logos, “the making the flesh His own by way of accommodation” (ἰδίαν ποιεῖν τὴν σάρκα οἰκονομικῶς), “He remembered who He was” (μεμένηκε ὅπερ ἦν), “out of two natures one” (ἐκ δύο φύσεων εἷς), or “the joining of two natures in an unbroken union without confusion and unchangeably” (συνέλευσις δύο φύσεων καθ᾽ ἕνωσιν ἀδιάσπαστον ἀσυγχύτως καὶ ἀτρέπτως), “the Logos with His own flesh” (ὁ λόγος μετὰ τῆς ἰδίας σαρκός), hence the “physical union” (ἕνωσις φυσική) or “hypostatic union” (καθ᾽ ὑπόστασιν), and finally, “one nature of the God-Logos made flesh” (μία φύσις τοῦ Θεοῦ λόγου σεσαρκωμένη), yet “not so that the difference of the two natures is done away with by the union” (οὐχ᾽ ὡς τῆς τῶν φύσεων διαφορᾶς ἀνῃρημένης διὰ τὴν ἕνωσιν). Cyril scarcely touched upon the distinction between φύσις (οὐσία) and ὑπόστασις, which had nevertheless already come to be current among the Antiochians so far as Christology was concerned; still he never says “of two hypostases” (ἐκ δύο ὑποστασεων) or “a union in nature” (ἕνωσις κατὰ φῦσιν). He was not able to make that distinction, because in his view φύσις and ὑποστασις meant the same thing as applied to the divine nature, but not as applied to the human. What rather is really characteristic in Cyril’s position is his express rejection of the view that an individual man was present in Christ, although he attributes to Christ all the elements of man’s nature. For Cyril, however, everything depends on the possibility and actuality of such a human nature, on the fact, namely, that in Christ a hypostatic union was reached and that this union forthwith purified and transfigured human nature generally. Christ can be the second Adam for men only if they belong to him in a material sense as they did to the first Adam, and they do belong to Him materially only if He was not an individual man like Peter and Paul, but the real beginner of a new humanity. Cyril’s view, moreover, was determined as a whole by the realistic thought of of redemption. Still it is not a matter of accident that he so frequently uses σάρξ for “human nature”, although in opposition to Apollinaris he acknowledged the human conscious soul in Christ. It was only σάρξ, that he could freely employ straight off in this connection, not πνεῦμα and ψυχή. The proposition that before the Incarnation there were two φύσεις, but after it only one, is, however, of special importance for Cyril’s conception of the Incarnation. This perverse formula, which Cyril repeats and varies endlessly, regards the humanity of Christ as having existed before the Incarnation, and therefore in accordance with the Platonic metaphysic, but does not do away with the humanity after the Incarnation, on the contrary, it merely transfers it entirely to the substance of the God-Logos. Both natures are now to be distinguished θεωρίᾳ μόνῃ—a phrase which he uses very frequently, i.e., it is in virtue of the physical or natural unity that the Logos has actually become man. This physical unity does not, however, mean that the Godhead thereby becomes capable of suffering: but the Logos suffers in His own flesh and was born of Mary as regards His own humanity. He is thus God crucified, (Θεὸς σταυρωθείς)—the Logos suffered without suffering, i.e., in His flesh (ἔπαθεν ὀ λόγος ἀπαθῶς, i.e, ἐν σαρκί)—and Mary is θεοτόκος, in so far as the σάρξ, which she bore constitutes an indissoluble unity with the Logos. (What belonged to the Logos thus became the property of the humanity, and again what belonged to the humanity became the property of the Logos—γέγονε τοίνυν ἴδια μὲν τοῦ λόγου τὰ τῆς ἀνθρωπότητος, ἴδια δὲ πάλιν τῆς ἀνθρωπότητος τὰ αὐτοῦ λόγου). Therefore this σάρξ of Christ can in the be the means of producing divine life, although it has not disappeared as human flesh.

Is this conception Monophysitism? It is necessary to distinguish here between the phraseology and what is actually stated. As regards their actual substance all conceptions may be described as Monophysite or Apollinarian which reject the idea that Christ was an individual man; for between the doctrine of the hypostatic union and the most logical Apthartodocetism there are only grades of difference. No hard and fast line can be drawn here, although very different forms of monophysitism were possible according as the consequences of the Incarnation for the divinity of Christ on the one hand, or for His humanity on the other were conceived of in a concrete way and definitely stated. But according to ecclesiastical phraseology only those parties are to be described as monophysite who rejected the deliverance of the Council of Chalcedon. But this deliverance presupposes the existence of factors which did not yet lie within the mental horizon of Cyril. In these circumstances we must content ourselves with saying that nowhere did Cyril intentionally deviate to the right hand, or to the left, from the line of thought followed by the Greek Church and its great Fathers in their doctrine of redemption. He was a Monophysite in so far as he taught that the Logos after the Incarnation continues to have as before one nature only; but as the opponent of Apollinaris he did not wish to mix the human nature with the divine in Christ. The assertion of a perfect humanity, unmingled natures, must be allowed to stand, for it is really impossible to put in an intelligible form any part of these speculations which treat of substances as if they had no connection whatever with a living person. It is really not any more difficult to put up with the contradiction here than it is to tolerate the whole method of looking at the question. Both constitute the great mystery of the faith. Monophysitism, which limits itself to the statement that in Christ out of two perfect natures, divinity and humanity, one composite or incarnate divine nature has come into existence, and which will have nothing to do with the idea of a free will in Christ, is dogmatically consistent. It has indeed no longer the logical satisfying clearness of the Apollinarian thesis; it involves an additional mystery, or a logical contradiction, still in return for this it definitely put into words the by no means unimportant element of “perfect humanity”. But this Monophysitism, when distinctly formulated as ἕνωσις φουσική, certainly made it plain to the Greeks themselves that it was no longer possible to the Christ of faith with the picture of Christ given in the Gospels; for the idea of the physical unity of the two natures and of the interchange of properties, which Cyril had worked out in a strict fashion, swallowed up what of the human remained in Him. Arrived at this point three possible courses were open. It was necessary either to revise the doctrine of redemption and perfection which had the above-mentioned statement as its logical result—a thing which was not to be thought of,—or else theologians would have to make up their minds still further to adapt the picture of the historical Christ to the dogmatic idea, i.e., to destroy it altogether, which was logical Monophysitism, or finally, it would be necessary to discover a word, or a formula, which would mark off the dogma of faith from Apollinarianism with still greater sharpness than had been done by the catchword “perfect humanity”. It was therefore necessary to intensify the contradictions still further, so that it was no longer only the concrete union of the natures which appeared as the secret, but the conception of the union itself already involved a contradictio in adjecto and became a mystery. If it could be maintained that the natures had become united without being united, then on the outside everything seemed to be as it should be, and Apollinaris was as certainly beaten as Paul of Samosata—and this was maintained. But certainly no pupil of Athanasius or Cyril hit on a notion such as this, which paralysed the force of the thought: λόγύς σαρκωθείς. A danger lurked here which had finally a momentous result. The expression of the faith which was constantly being burdened with fresh contradictions so that no legitimate element might be wanting to it, had to forfeit its strength. Its place was finally taken by a complicated formula which it was no longer possible to make one’s own through feeling, the mystery of conceptions put in the form of concrete ideas. If theologians might no longer teach as Apollinaris taught and in fact no longer quite in the way in which Cyril taught, they saw themselves under the necessity of using a complicated formula. But to begin with it seemed as if Cyril had carried his point.

The controversy broke out in Constantinople and was throughout carried on with ambitious designs and for the purposes of ecclesiastical policy. In the person of Nestorius an ascetic Antiochian was again raised to the dignity of Bishop of Constantinople (428). The bishop of the capital just because he was the bishop was an object of jealousy to the Alexandrian Patriarch and as an Antiochian he was doubly so. A conceited preacher and one who plumed himself on being an enemy of heretics, but not a man with any meanness about him, Nestorius, who was supported by his presbyter Anastasius, gave offence in the capital by using the catchwords of the Antiochian dogmatic and by the contest he engaged in against the description of Mary as θεοτόκος. With great frankness Nestorius described the statements regarding the God who was wrapped in swaddling clothes and fastened to the Cross, as fables. His Christology was that of Theodore; it cannot be said that he developed it further; on the contrary, one can see the influence of Chrysostom. Nestorius seems scarcely to have mentioned the human development of Jesus, and he seems to have laid greater emphasis on the idea of the union than Theodore (“one Christ”), if also only in the form of the συνάφεια and προσκύνησις; but he was, above all, concerned in getting rid of “the corruption of Arius and Apollinaris.” Cyril took advantage of the excitement in the Capital, which would perhaps have quieted down spite of some unruly priests and monks, in order to stir up the Egyptian monks, the Egyptian clergy in Constantinople, and the imperial ladies. The result was an angry correspondence with Nestorius, who was, moreover, protected by the Emperor. Cyril wrote in a more dignified way than his rival, but the hierarchs since the days of Cyprian had always known better how to take up an outwardly dignified attitude than their opponents. The narrow-minded patriarch of the capital was characterised by a simple pride. He expressed himself in an inconsiderate and imprudent way in his letters, and his conduct in his diocese was no less inconsiderate and imprudent, for there he went on with the work of deposition and attacked “Apollinarianism” as if it had been a red rag.

The formula employed by the two opponents were no longer very different. Everything depended on how they were accentuated. Both spoke of two natures and one Christ, and the one wished as little to be an Apollinarian as the other did to be a “blasphemous” Samosatene. Cyril did not deny that the God-head was incapable of suffering, and Nestorius was prepared to use even the formula θεοτόκος with a qualification. But in reality they were undoubtedly separated from each other by a deep gulf represented in the former case by the ἕνωσις φυσική, (the physical union,) and in the latter by the ἕνωσις κατὰ συνάφειαν, (the union by combination,) and they can scarcely be blamed if they indulged in specious arguments; for both views were intelligible only when one went behind the formulæ, and in the case of many if not actually in that of the leaders, ideas which went a great deal further were as a matter of fact concealed behind the formulæ. Nestorius addressed himself to the Roman bishop Cœlestin as a colleague of co-ordinate rank, Cyril did the same soon after as an informant moved by a sense of duty, and therewith the controversy came to have a universal importance. But owing to the interference of the Roman bishop on behalf of Cyril it also took a wholly unexpected turn; for there is not perhaps in the history of dogma a second fact of equal importance which so thoroughly deserves to be pronounced a scandal nor one which at the same is so little to the credit of its author, as the interference of the Pope on behalf of Cyril.

He had indeed sufficient reason for doing this. Since the time of Athanasius and Julius, and in fact from the days even of Demetrius and Fabian, it had always been the traditional dogmatic policy of the Roman Chair to support the Alexandrian Patriarch, as conversely the latter in his struggle against the ambitious patriarch of New Rome necessarily looked for his natural ally in old Rome. Further Nestorius had shewn himself unwilling to excommunicate right off the Pelagians who had been condemned by the Pope and who had fled to Constantinople. Finally, he had not in his writing generally given token of the submission which the Apostolic Chair already demanded. But what does that signify in face of the fact that Cœlestin in interfering on behalf of Cyril disowned his western view and in the most frivolous fashion condemned Nestorius without having considered his teaching. That he did both things may be easily shewn. In his letter to the Pope Nestorius laid before the latter the formula “utraque natura quae per conjunctionem summam et inconfusam in una persona unigeniti adoratur” (“the two natures which, perfectly joined together and without confusion, are adored in the one person of the only-begotten”). This was substantially the Western formula, and Cœlestin himself held no other view. He did not, however, trouble himself about the formula, put his own Christology on one side and declared in favour of Cyril, while he made everything depend on the one point “θεοτόκος” in order at least to produce an appearance of difference, although this was just the very point regarding which Nestorius was prepared to make concessions.

The Pope had determined to put down Nestorius. A Roman Synod (430) demanded of him immediate recantation on pain of excommunication. As if by way of insult Cyril was charged by the Pope himself with the duty of carrying the sentence out. Nestorius himself, whose Church was revolutionised, now urged the Emperor to call a General Council, and in addition to this collected a number of accusations against Cyril for the way in which he had discharged the duties of his office. To the twelve anathemas which an Alexandrian Council under the presidency of Cyril had served on him, and which embodied the teaching of Cyril in sharply cut phrases (θεοτόκος γεγέννηκε σαρκικῶς σάρκα γεγονότα τὸν ἐκ Θεοῦ λόγον—ἕνωσις καθ᾽ ὑπόστασιν—ἕνωσις φυσική—σὰρξ τοῦ κυρίου ζωοποιός,—the mother of God bore flesh born after the manner of flesh, the Logos of God—hypostatic union—natural union—the life-giving flesh of the Lord) he replied by twelve counter-anathemas. This sealed the breach. The Emperor, displeased with Cyril, summoned a Council to meet at Ephesus at Whitsuntide 431. Cyril who appeared with some 50 bishops, here shewed how an Emperor, such as Theodosius was, ought to be treated. Without waiting for the arrival of the Syrians under John of Antioch, the cautious friend (?) of Nestorius, the Egyptian party supported by the bishop of Ephesus, Memnon, on its own authority and spite of the opposition of the Imperial commissioner, constituted itself the Council, treated Nestorius who naturally did not appear at this meeting, but waited in the city for the Syrians, as an accused person, approved of all Cyril’s declarations as being in harmony with Holy Scripture and the Nicene Creed, pronounced the deposition of Nestorius and declared him to have forfeited priestly fellowship. In opposition to this petty assembly, which did not set up any new creed, but which on the contrary took up the position that the sole question had reference to the Nicene Creed which was in danger, Nestorius and his friends, as soon as the Syrians arrived, held the legal Council under the presidency of the Imperial Commissioner and pronounced sentence of deposition on Cyril and Memnon. It was only now that the Papal legates arrived in Ephesus and they at once took the side of Cyril. In accordance with their instructions they reopened the case pro forma, in order to exalt the authority of the Apostolic Chair. Cyril’s party complied with this, and the Legates then agreed to everything which had been done, after all the documents had been once more read over. With the cry, “the whole Council thanks the new Paul Cœlestin, the new Paul Cyril, Cœlestin the guardian of the faith, Cœlestin who concurs with the Council: One Cœlestin, one Cyril, one faith of the Council, one faith of the whole world,” this assembly closed, which sought to maintain the ancient Nicene faith and did maintain it, at which, however, there was no discussion, but at which unanimity was reached solely on the basis of a selection of authorities.

The following will be found in the historical accounts. The Emperor, instead of standing up for the right, allowed himself to be overawed. At first it is true the resolutions of Cyril’s Council were annulled, but thereafter the controversy was to be settled in true Byzantine fashion by the removal of the leaders. The Emperor gave the force of law both to the deposition of Cyril and Memnon and to that of Nestorius. The Alexandrians, however, were united and followed one master, but this was not the case with the opposite party. Nestorius who was violent but not tenacious, resigned; soon, however, his isolation was to change to imprisonment. In the eyes of the Emperor the doctrine which he represented was by no means condemned; but Cyril succeeded in getting permission to resume possession of his bishopric, and by means of intrigue and bribery his party continued more and more to gain ground at the Court and the capital. Still he could not reckon on a victory as regards the dogmatic question; he had to be content with knowing that a man who was acceptable to him occupied the chair of Constantinople. The Emperor sought to bring about a union, and the friends of Nestorius became disunited. One section under the leadership of John of Antioch was prepared to come to terms, and to this party Theodoret, the most distinguished Antiochian scholar, also belonged, though undoubtedly with a certain reserve. Another section actively resisted. Cyril’s behaviour in the year 432-433 is little to his credit. To him it was of more importance to get the condemnation of his mortal enemy, Nestorius, carried through in the Church, than to preserve his dogmatic system pure. Thus he subscribed the creed submitted by the moderate Antiochians, without, however, retracting his earlier opinions, and in return for this got some of the heads of the opposite party, above all, John of Ephesus, to abandon Nestorius. Cyril could save his consistency by interpreting this Antiochian creed in accordance with his Christology; the friends of Nestorius were not able to escape the disgrace which they had brought upon themselves by their treachery towards their ill-used friend. But in a question which was for him a matter of faith Cyril had agreed to a compromise, in proof of the fact that all hierarchs are open to when they are in danger of losing power and influence. He could, moreover, reckon on the victory of his opponents being a Pyrrhic victory. His own reputation and that of his dogmatic system went on increasing; thousands of monks were busy spreading it, and Cyril himself was constantly working at the Court and in Rome. The condemnation of Nestorius was followed by the most disgraceful treatment of the unfortunate bishop. In consequence of the confusion which arose because he was condemned while his teaching was tolerated by others, the whole party was weakened; the strict Nestorians separated from the others, and since Cyril had not been under the necessity of retracting anything, he was able to direct his energies towards getting the decrees of his assembly accepted as orthodox, as ecumenical decrees, under cover of the union-creed. He did actually succeed in a few years in getting this done in the East; in the West they had ranked as such from the first. The situation continued to be perplexed and became more and more disingenuous.