The world-viewthat Justinian’s achievements – whether part of a grand plan
or not – were seen to support set great store by an unblemished priesthood
offering pure prayer to the true God, the God of the Christians. Unlike
other religions of late antiquity – whether the varieties of what Christians
called paganism, Judaism, or even (although yet to evolve) Islam – for
Christianity, ‘purity’ or being ‘unblemished’, embraced not just moral (and
especially sexual) purity, but also the correctness of a considerably elaborated
system of belief. For most Christians of the sixth century, this system of
belief had been defined at councils regarded as universal, or ecumenical,
although there were differences, as we have seen, as to whether the council
of Chalcedon was to be regarded as the fourth ecumenical council. Emperor
Justin’s embrace of Chalcedonian orthodoxy had healed the long-standing
schism between the east and Rome, but left unresolved the disagreement
between those who accepted Chalcedon (with whatever refinements) and
those who rejected it as a betrayal of Cyril of Alexandria, the ‘seal of the
fathers’.
But all Christians, whatever their differences, were opposed to what
they had come to call the ‘exterior wisdom’, the learning of the classical
philosophers. As Romanus the Melodist, the Christian poet who spent
most of his life in Constantinople during Justinian’s reign, put it:
And why do the fools outside strive for victory?
Why do the Greeks puff and buzz?
Why are they deceived by Aratos the thrice accursed? Why err like
wandering planets to Plato?
Why do they love the debilitated Demosthenes?
Why do they not consider Homer a chimera?
Why do they go on about Pythagoras, who were better muzzled?20
This antipathy had been returned in kind, and some adherents of Neoplatonism,
loftily indifferent to the new-fangled teachings of the ‘pale
Galilean’, developed a world-view that openly ignored Christianity and
through their religious practices sought to revive traditional paganism. A
notableNeoplatonist was the deeply learned philosopher Proclus, who lived
the life of an ascetic, pagan holy man, with an especial devotion to the sun.
For fifty years, until his death in 485, he taught in Athens as head (diadochos)
of the Academy that had been founded by Plato in the fourth century bc.
Part of Justinian’s commitment to Christian orthodoxy was expressed in
his closing of the Academy in 529. The closure, however, did not take place
before much of the pagan language and intellectual structures had found
Christian expression in the writings ascribed to St Paul’s Athenian disciple,
Dionysius the Areopagite; these began to make an impact in the 520s, very
shortly, it is thought, after they had been written. The philosophers made
their way to Persia in 532, led by Damascius the last diadochos; but they
returned after a few years, Damascius going to Emesa where he seems to
have continued to teach.21 Neoplatonism continued to thrive in Alexandria
for another century, where it was not stridently anti-Christian. Indeed
most, if not all, of the Alexandrian philosophers were Christian. But the
closure of the Academy meant the end of any institutional expression of
intellectual opinion.
Alongside the suppression of paganNeoplatonism, there was suppression
of other forms of heterodoxy. In various parts of the empirewe learn of more
vigorous attempts to suppress survivals of traditional paganism.22 In the
540s, the monophysite bishop John of Ephesus embarked on a missionary
campaign in western Asia Minor with imperial support. He claimed to
have converted 70,000 souls there, destroying many temples and founding
ninety-six churches and twelve monasteries. In Egypt, too, we know of the
destruction of temples. Other forms of heterodox opinion fared no better.
The dualist doctrineManichaeism, whose founderMani had died in Persia
in 276, dogged the Christian church through its years of growing success
and was an offence punishable by death. The Samaritans embraced what
was perhaps a primitive form of Judaism; their revolt against repression
was savagely suppressed in 529. Ancient Christian heresies likeMontanism
also suffered repression under Justinian. The monophysites, who were both
more numerous and closer in belief to the imperial church, are a special
case to be dealt with presently.
The Jews formed a relatively privileged group of second-class citizens. In
contrast to heretics and pagans, who had no rights and no civil status, Jews
were allowed to exist and their existence was protected. Jews were allowed
to practise circumcision and to observe the Sabbath; their synagogues were
protected from violence or desecration, although not always effectively;
they kept their Rabbinic courts of law and were not to be molested. But
they were to exist as ‘living testimony’ to the truth of Christianity, living
testimony to the wretchedness of those who had deliberately rejected
their Messiah. So the laws protecting their existence also enshrined the
principle that Jews must never enjoy the fruits of office, but only suffer
its pains and penalties. They were not to expand, so no new synagogues
were to be built, and difficulties were often raised over repairing existing
ones. The Jews were to be encouraged to convert, but it was to be from
a genuine change of heart; they were not to be coerced. They were thus
allowed to exist, with rights and civil status, but in a permanently inferior
state.23
In the 530s, in parallel with the furthering of legal reform, reconquista and
rebuilding, Justinian sought to achieve a reconciliation between orthodox
Chalcedonianism and monophysite anti-Chalcedonianism. The basis for
this reconciliation was the doctrine of theopaschism. Brought to Justinian’s
attention by the Scythian monks a decade or so earlier, this was now part of
a wider theological movement usually known as neo-Chalcedonianism,
or Cyrilline Chalcedonianism – after Cyril of Alexandria. This theological
movement, which was quite independent of Justinian, seems to
have been inspired by attempts to counter the attack by the great non-
Chalcedonian theologian Severus, patriarch of Antioch (512–18), on the
definition of Chalcedon as being incompatible with the teaching of Cyril.
Those eastern Christians who had accepted Chalcedon were by no means
a minority and did so believing that it endorsed Cyril’s teaching. Cyrilline
Chalcedonianism sought to interpret Chalcedon in the light ofCyril’s teaching,
believing (not unreasonably) that this represented the mind of the
fathers of the council. It was based on three clarifications of the council’s
definition: first, that the ‘one person’ of the Incarnate Christ is the second
person of the Trinity; second, consequent acceptance of the theopaschite
formula ‘one of the Trinity suffered in the flesh’; and third, agreement that
one of Cyril’s favourite ways of describing the Incarnate Christ (‘one incarnate
nature of God the Word’) was acceptable and only verbally appeared
to contradict the doctrine of one person and two natures. This phrase is
the source of the term by which the non-Chalcedonians have come to
be called: monophysites, believers in (only) one nature. Notable adherents
of Cyrilline Chalcedonianism included John of Caesarea and Leontius
of Jerusalem. Justinian was convinced that this provided a way of
reconciliation and at a conference held in Constantinople in 532, a large
measure of theological agreement was reached; however, discussions faltered
over practical arrangements for reinstating non-Chalcedonian bishops.
24 Thereafter Justinian resorted to persecution, thwarted by the protection
given to the monophysites in the palace itself by Theodora. But
he never gave up his attempt to promote Cyrilline Chalcedonianism,
which culminated in the fifth ecumenical council, held in Constantinople
in 553.
The fifth ecumenical council was concerned with two issues: the
condemnation of the so-called Three Chapters, and the condemnation
of Origenism.25 The condemnation of the Three Chapters was part of
Justinian’s attempt to achieve reconciliation between the orthodox and the
monophysites, for theywere the writings of three bishops whowere particularly
obnoxious to the monophysites: Theodoret of Cyrrhus; Ibas of Edessa;
and Theodore of Mopsuestia, who died in 428. Theodore was regarded as
the inspiration behind Nestorius, patriarch of Constantinople (428–31).
The emphasis in his teaching about Christ on the separate integrity of his
two natures, divine and human, and especially his consequent denial (or
at least heavy qualification) of the title Theotokos (‘Mother of God’) of the
Virgin Mary, had provoked the wrath of Cyril of Alexandria, who secured
his condemnation at the third ecumenical council, held at Ephesus in 431.
Theodoret and Ibas had been condemned at the ‘robber council’ of Ephesus
of 449, but reinstated two years later by the council of Chalcedon. There
was considerable resistance to the condemnation of the Three Chapters in
the west, where it was regarded as an attempt to interfere with Chalcedon,
Pope Leo’s council. Pope Vigilius was forcibly summoned to attend the
council called by Justinian in Constantinople, where he was held under
house arrest until he accepted the condemnation of the Three Chapters,
and his successors were required to accept his action, although Pope Gregory
the Great only ever speaks of ‘four councils’. But others in the west
were not so pliant: the pope was excommunicated by bishops in North
Africa and northern Italy, and the schism between Rome and Aquileia was
not healed until 700.
The condemnation of Origenism has often been regarded as a counterbalance
to the condemnation of the Three Chapters, but there seems no
reason to accept this. There was nothing monophysite about Origenism:
its condemnation really belongs with Justinian’s attack on pagan Neoplatonism,
for Origen and the Origenists were regarded as deeply indebted to
Platonism. Indeed, Origen had been a disciple of Ammonias Saccas, the
master of Plotinus. For this reason, it was an action for which Justinian
could count on the applause of most Christians, despite Origenist ideas
remaining popular among some more intellectually inclined monks.
All these attempts to achieve reconciliation amongst the Christians of
the empire achieved nothing. By the time the fifth ecumenical council met,
the schism had already become irrevocable. Some ten years earlier, in 542,
Theodosius, the exiled monophysite patriarch of Alexandria, had secretly
consecrated Jacob Baradaeus in Constantinople as bishop of Edessa; Jacob
was responsible for the Ghassanids, an Arab realm allied to the empire
(see below, p. 188). Once ordained, he set about ordaining bishops for
monophysite congregations throughout the east, thus providing a parallel
hierarchy to that of the orthodox church of the empire. Imperial attempts
to crush this rival church through persecution met with little success.
On the face of it, Justinian’s religious policies look to be a downright
failure. This is true, if his endeavours are simply regarded as attempts at
healing the schism in the church, especially in the east. But these endeavours
can be viewed from another perspective: that of leaving the emperor’s
mark on the orthodox church of the empire. From this perspective his
success was real. The reception of the council of Chalcedon in the sixth
century took place along the lines that Justinian promoted: the Christology
of the council was henceforth to be interpreted in the east along the
lines of Cyrilline Chalcedonianism, and a theopaschite understanding of
the Incarnation became accepted, with implications beyond the narrowly
theological. By the ninth century the hymn ‘Only-begotten Son’, ascribed
to Justinian, formed a regular part of the eucharistic liturgy. Whether or
not the literary composition was Justinian’s, the theopaschite theology of
the hymn is certainly his (‘you were crucified, Christ God . . . being One of
the Holy Trinity’), and such theopaschite devotion, flanked by the development
of angelology and Mariology, found expression in the flourishing
iconographic tradition of the eastern church.
The answer to the first of the questions raised earlier about understanding
Justinian’s reign in terms of a grand design would seem to be negative,
although in the first decade of his sole rule Justinian may have entertained
some such idea. But when we consider the second question – whether
Justinian had the means to implement a grand design – even had its components
fitted together as well as has often been maintained (legal reform,
reconquest, rebuilding and the furthering of orthodoxy), there are other
factors in Justinian’s reign that would have prevented any such grand design
from reaching fruition.
World History
