From Schism to the Council of Florence: Part IV

IV Great Expectations for the Future

Both Lyons and Ferrara-Florence tend to be looked down upon because they were failures. It would be too facile to suggest that they were not. It can not be forgotten that as a response to Florence, both sides became more rigid in their formulations, and dialogue in its shadow has had to deal with what one should do with the council itself. To the West, it became the standard by which reunion with the East could occur.[1] To the East, it became the last example by which the West had proven it could not be trusted to keep to its promises. Yet, with the hindsight of history, we can now look back at the councils. If we look, not with a polemical eye, we can appreciate their positive achievements. We can recognize that some good was actually done at them.

Both councils provided a contact between the West and the East in a way which had not happened before. Even before their formal separation, communication between the Latins and the Greeks had been severely lacking. Without such contact, it was only a matter of time that unity would be terminated. Most Westerners lost the ability to read and understand Greek, and the East had no interest in Latin. The theological legacies and traditions which developed by both sides did so without the dialogue which was needed to keep themselves properly in balance with the rest of Christendom. Texts were rarely shared. Understanding was lost. It is no wonder that misunderstanding occurred, and theological debates would end up going in circles with participants not listening to each other.

However, we see something unique happening after Lyons. The cold, icy barrier separating the cultures began to thaw just a little, if only for the fact that each side had to learn to appreciate and understand the tradition of their opponents (even if they still rejected it). At Lyons, the East saw something it had not seen before: Latin scholasticism. Eastern theologians grew interested in it, and translations of the schoolmen from Latin into Greek began to take place.[2] Not all of the Greeks appreciated this development. Yet it is important to note that many of their leading figures took scholasticism seriously and found it a vital component of their own theological output.[3] This meant that many Latin authors, secular and Patristic, which had been neglected by the Greeks were finally introduced to and studied by the elite in the East.

Just as Lyons was able to introduce the Latin heritage to the East, so Florence was able to open up the long lost Greek heritage to the West. In an age where humanism was increasing, the interaction of the classical tradition in renaissance Italy became the spark which helped shape the modern world. When the philosopher Pletho was in Florence, he preached his brand of Neo-Platonic philosophy on the city streets. The people of Florence were impressed and Pletho enjoyed the warm attention and affection he received. Here, for the first time, the fullness of the Platonic tradition was being revealed to the West; it was no longer necessary for the West to hear the teachings of Plato second hand. Having been impressed by Pletho, the Medici desired to bring the whole Platonic corpus to the West. Texts were brought over by the aid of Bessarion. Marsilio Ficino was chosen to be their translator and interpreter.[4] Ficino’s role was not only that of being the Western expositor on Plato, but he became something else. Inspired by what he learned, he helped transform the world around him. The notion of Platonic love developed side by side with an appreciation for the arts. Indeed, Ficino, because of his understanding of beauty, was among those who helped raise the respect given to an artist so they would no longer be seen merely as a carpenter! Would the renaissance have been the same without the support given to the arts?

Equally important is the fact that the council of Florence helped attract Easterners to the West; some of them decided to stay and live in the West after the council ended. More than any other person, Bessarion saw how the West could help protect the doomed heritage of the East.[5] If Constantinople's fate was decided and its fall could not be prevented, there had to be a way to preserve its legacy. To Bessarian the answer lay in the West. Would Bessarion have considered this anwer and moved to Venice if he had not first been shown respect in Florence? Would he have thought it possible to protect and save Byzantine civilization in the West, if the council had occurred in Constantinople? His foresight helped give as much to Byzantium as it did to the West. Similar to what India has been for Tibet, Italy, and especially Venice, became for Byzantium. Within Turkish-controlled Byzantium, seminaries were closed, and this made proper clerical education nearly impossible.[6] And yet in Venice the possibility remained. Those who could get to Venice found Bessarion, and others like him, helped to pave the way for a proper education. It was not an entirely far-fetched proposal, especially since the Turks did not actively prevent it.[7] Byzantium lived abroad in its exiles.

While we can see the positive cultural impact both councils had, can we find any evidence of solid theological ramifications? Certainly. The Council of Lyons forced the East to actually reflect upon its pneumatology, and it can be said that some of their most profound writings on the procession of the Holy Spirit came as a reaction and response to Lyons.[8] It must also be remembered that at Florence the debates opened the West and the East to the differences in the Latin and Greek patristic legacy. Mark of Ephesus wanted to deny it by denying the texts; the council itself wanted to simplify it by saying the Fathers agreed. We now know that might not always be the case. But what could they do at a council? What other solutions could be reached with the evidence that was brought before the fathers of the council? None at the time, but it opened up the possibility that one could be found. Humanists in the West certainly would take this newfound revelation to heart, but they had the time which the council did not. And yet, there was at the council itself the first glimmer of a new awareness that perhaps the different theological traditions do contradict each other, and contradicted each other even before the schism; however, it was not a dogmatic contradiction, and these traditions could exist side by side as they did before. Indeed, some could say that it really was the mutual lack of charity which really brought about discord within the Church of Christ.

Also it must be seen that Florence also did another remarkable thing: it finally gave its final and full assent to the possibility of a plurality of rites and traditions within the Church. Prior to Florence, aspects of the differing liturgical practices between the Greeks and Latins often was the source of vehement polemics between the two parties. They believed their own liturgical tradition must be followed; indeed members of the West and the East often declared each other heretics based upon such different liturgical practices such as what kind of bread (leavened or unleavened) was being be used in the eucharist. The issue was taken up briefly at Florence, but the outcome was one of compromise: both sides recognized each other’s practice was legitimate! And now, after Florence, it can be said that “…today the problem of the bread of the eucharist might seem at most an indifferent question of liturgical custom and of and humanly established ecclesiastical discipline…”[9]

We have talked about Rome and Constantinople and how they were affected by the union councils. And yet this is a tale of three cities. What can we say about Moscow? Here the legacy of the councils must be seen as a mixed bag. On the one hand, the rise of Russia, and its emergence on the world scene can be seen as an effect of the fall of Constantinople. Its spirit was allowed to soar when it felt it no longer had to be held back from its bonds with Byzantium. As the triumphant daughter of Byzantium, it held onto the Byzantine heritage with zeal. At once this ascendancy put itself as a rival to Constantinople, brokering discord within the Orthodox world. Its rise and release from the Tatar Yoke was proper, but its fight with Constantinople certainly was a shame. To become Byzantium’s rival, it had to acquire and translate the theological and philosophical textbooks of Byzantium; it had to acquire a sophistication it had until that time lacked. Where could it turn for this?

Here we find the story of Maximus the Greek. Born in 1470, he traveled to Italy and lived there for a time studying under Ficino and Pico. For a brief period, he even became a Dominican monk in Florence; but he did not stay, and in 1504 he moved to Mt Athos.[10] From Athos, he was sent to Russia, where he was able to translate many important works from Greek into Slavonic. It was not an easy task. At first, he did not even know Slavonic. Yet he worked hard to learn it, and in the process became one of the most important intellectual links which united Russia with its Byzantine heritage. It is interesting to see how he was first and foremost a Greek who had been nurtured in Italy, in the diaspora. His unique qualifications came from the fact that Florence had helped usher in an age where the diaspora were welcome in the West, and that they were given a place to stay and be educated. Would Russia have found someone so properly suited to their needs, someone so capable as Maximus the Greek, if the Council of Florence did not inspire Bessarion and other exiles to stay behind?

What lessons can we learn from these councils for modern ecumenical dialogues? We can find several, but for issues of space, let us look at three of them. First and foremost, especially in the aftermath of Florence, it has been shown that a key to true ecumenical dialogue requires that is more than just talk and union “from above.” The laity need to have a significant role. Union is not to be achieved by merely having leaders come to theological agreements without the people understanding how and why those agreements were made. Not only are the laity needed in these dialogues, a desire for unity must also be nurtured within the laity as well. Without it, no matter how many agreements are made at a council, no true lasting unity will be possible.

Second, and connected to this, it is important to make sure that union is not attempted merely for political reasons. Such a union ends up being forced and contrived, and it will not last. We see this after both Lyons and Florence: when the populace rejected them, the Byzantine emperor tried to use force to squash the rebellion which followed. Today we might wonder why it was thought union could be achieved in this way. It might seem obvious to us that unity cannot be forced. Yet it was something we had to learn, and history has been our guide.

Third, it is fruitful to see that, despite the fact that the attempts for union failed, there was a desire for unity among Christians. The ecumenical movement is not a modern aberration as some “traditionalists” might want people to think. While this might seem obvious to some, to others, so worked up and caught up in their own traditions, it is not. Schisms go back to the time of the Apostles; so do the attempts to heal them. Human frailty often gets in the way. We can see Florence, because it was so close to making unity a reality, as a sign of hope. Even Mark of Ephesus, who disavowed the results of Florence, agreed that unity should be attempted. This perhaps explains why it came so close. And it gives us hope to this day. It shows us that in spite of all the controversies, strife and bitterness that have separated Christians from each other throughout the centuries, a desire for union continues and has not been destroyed. If it was preserved in the past, despite all the wrongs that have been perpetrated by members of both sides, it is something which can be built upon in the present time of charitable relations. Indeed, the fact that politics were not the only reason for which Florence was called might even demonstrate that a movement of the Spirit, the Spirit of truth and love, was at work at the time of the council. It was not listened to. Too much stood in the way. But yet . . . but yet there truly was a positive side of Florence. Agreements were made, resolutions passed, and true progress was achieved. If the Spirit could do that in the past, what more can it do today? There is a great desire for unity prevalent among many Christians today; even if ecumenical talks fail to resolve the divisions between the churches in our life time, perhaps, because of the greater charity shown between the churches, there will at least be a closing of the gaps which divide Christians from one another? We can at least hope and have some great expectations for the future.

Notes

[1] Thus, for example, the Union at Brest can be seen as a “regional attempt to revive the Union of Florence.” Waclaw Hryniewicz, “The Florentine Union Reception and Rejection: Some Reflections on Unionist Tendencies Among Ruthenians,” in Christian Unity: The Council of Ferrara-Florence 1438/9 – 1989, ed. Giuseppe Alberigo (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1991), 239.
[2] Deno John Geanakoplos, Interaction of the “Sibling” Byzantine and Western Cultures, 100.
[3] George Scholarius, for example, admired St Thomas Aquinas, and even worked to translate some of his works into Greek. See George A Maloney, S.J. A History of Orthodox Theology Since 1453 (Belmont, Massachusetts: Nordland Publishing Company, 1976), 92.
[4] See the introduction in Marsilio Ficino, Meditations on the Soul: Selected Letters of Marsilio Ficino. Trans. by the Language Department of the School of Economic Science, London (Rochester, Virginia: Inner Traditions International, 1996), xii.
[5] Deno John Geanakoplos, Interaction of the “Sibling” Byzantine and Western Cultures, 172-3.; 177-78.
[6] George A. Maloney, A History of Orthodox Theology, 100.
[7] Steven Runcimann, The Great Church in Captivity, 211.
[8] See Sergius Bulgakov, The Comforter, 100 -110 for a discussion of this period of theological debate within Byzantium.
[9] John H. Erickson, The Challenge of Our Past, 135.
[10] John Meyendorff, Rome Constantinople and Moscow, 140-41.

From Schism to the Council of Florence: Part III

III Hard Times

After Lyons, there were few talks between Greeks and Latins about ecclesiastical reunion. Probably the most important suggestion came from the opponent of St Gregory Palamas, Barlaam of Calabria. He suggested that an ecumenical council should be convened; unlike what had occurred at Lyons, he wanted it to be one in which theological dialogue could be had by all representatives of the classical Pentarchy.[1]

Very few were interested in such a council. The cultural and ecclesiastical realities made it impossible. The Greeks were still angered about the sacking of Constantinople, and they feared any official attempts for unity would follow what happened under Michael VIII. The Greeks also believed that their cultural heritage was at stake: they feared unity with Rome would end up with Rome forcing them to become Latins. The West did not believe that the primacy and authority of the Bishop of Rome could be questioned. To convene a council as the Greeks wanted was unacceptable, because it would be seen as a repudiation of Papal claims of authority. There was a stalemate, and no one wanted to give up any claims to the other side. It is by the accidental circumstances of history we can explain why the Council of Ferrara-Florence was convened. They also explain why it, “came near to success: so near, yet so far.”[2]

The Byzantine Empire was weak and indeed, one could say, dying. While it had been able to defend its borders against the West, this drained their resources so much that they were not able to do so against the Turks. Slowly but surely the Turks were advancing upon their lands. By the time of its end, the empire consisted of Constantinople and a few small and scattered territories.[3]John VIII, the emperor, saw the end was near unless something was done to stop the Turks once and for all. He needed Western aid. When he was asked if he were willing to participate in a union council with the Latins, he gave a conditional consent. The West would promise to help the empire, and more importantly, the council would have to follow the normative procedures of earlier ecumenical councils. It would be called by the emperor, and the theological differences which separated the Latins from the Greeks would have to be openly debated. Even though the Greeks would not automatically give way to the Latin arguments, John did imply that he would do what he could to bring about a conclusion to the council which satisfied the Latins.[4]

After Lyons, the West found its own situation deteriorating. The West had endured the internal Great Western Schism; unity was restored by the Council of Constance and the election of Martin V as Pope.[5] More importantly, Constance had issued a decree requiring the frequent convening of general councils.[6] After Constance, conciliarist ideas began circulating in the West. The first council called in wake of Constance was held at Pavia in 1423. It was moved to Siena because of an outbreak of the plague, and then dissolved in March 1424 due to poor attendance. In its dissolution, Pope Martin V declared that there would be a new council convened at Basel in 1431. Martin’s death delayed the start of the council until after Eugene IV was elected as his successor in the March of 1431. Basel begun its proceedings that June, only to have its leaders in an open and bitter fight with Eugene IV. The Pope tried to have the council dissolved by the December of that year. In the early battle between the Pope and the council, the Pope lost, and had to admit its continued existence, even if in doing so, it seemed to put the authority of the council over his own.

As a way to handle this conflict, the fathers of Basel began to suggest inviting the Greeks to their council, because they wanted to turn their council into a full fledged ecumenical council. They thought it would give them that much more credibility if they could establish a consensus with the Greeks over and against Eugene. The Pope, however, also liked this idea. He believed if he could call his own council with the Greeks, under the auspices of the council of Basel, he could effectively transfer the site of the council to a new, favorable location and undermine whatever authority his opposition possessed.[7]

Two different parties approached John VIII calling for the presence of the Greeks with the hope that unity could be achieved with them. Both sides promised to send military aid to protect Byzantium from the Turks. The emperor was pleased with the news. Not sure which side he should follow, he postponed his decision, saying he would make it after his arrival in Venice. He would follow the side which gave him the best offer. Thus, making an official declaration that there would be an ecumenical council, he called for representatives of the Orthodox to go with him or meet him in Italy. After collecting many prominent ecclesiastical authorities to form his entourage, such as Joseph the Patriarch of Constantinople, Bessarion the Metropolitan of Nicea, Mark of Ephesus as well as important laymen like George Scholarius and Gemistos Pletho, the emperor made his way to Italy.[8] At Venice, he decided to join the council led by the Pope, partly because the location the Pope suggested for the council would be easier for the Greeks to attend, but also because the Greeks still believed that it was necessary for the Pope of Rome or his representatives to be at a council for it to be ecumenical.[9] Once his decision was made, Eugene IV issued a Bull in 1438 declaring the Council in Basel to be transferred to Ferrara. All required prelates were told to make their way to the council, and if they did not attend, they would suffer the penalties appropriate for their disobedience.[10]

The first problem that had to be addressed before the council could be convened was that of protocol. How should the emperor and the Patriarch of Constantinople greet the Pope? Both sides had different expectations. Joseph planned on greeting the Pope with a traditional embrace. But the Pope wanted to be greeted in a way which signified his superior status. Neither wanted to give in, and it seemed that the council would end before it could be begun. Yet a solution was had. For both sides to save face, it was agreed that the meeting would take place in private.[11]

There remained another important question of protocol: how should the delegates be seated at the council? The Pope believed he should have the central seat, indicating his leadership. John VIII thought that he should have it because tradition indicated that position should be given to the emperor. The solution, as it is described by Joseph Gill, shows how both sides found a way to preserve their own honor. “The thrones were arranged in such a way that the Pope’s was a little in advance of an empty one allotted to the Holy Roman Emperor, with the cardinals and the rest of the western prelates and members arrayed in order behind, while the throne of the Byzantine Emperor corresponded exactly with that of the western Emperor, and those of the Patriarch and the rest of the Greeks were placed accordingly.”[12] However, the Pope was not completely satisfied until his throne was elevated higher than the rest. John was given the second highest seat, and the Patriarch of Constantinople was given a chair placed at the same height as the most important Latin cardinal.

The official theological debates did not immediately begin after the council was convened. John wanted more of the Western princes to be present, hoping to talk to them personally to be sure that they would help Constantinople. Also, not all of the Eastern delegates had arrived. Metropolitan Isidore from Kiev would not be able to make it to Ferrara until August.[13] At the request of the emperor, the Pope agreed to wait for four moths before the official debates could commence. To the emperor’s disappointment, not many of the princes attended the council because they wanted to remain neutral between the Pope and the fathers at Basel. It must be said that the expense for this wait was tremendous, and since the council itself was being paid for by the Pope, we must see this as an indication of his own true desire to establish unity with the Greeks. Nonetheless, to speed up the council’s deliberations, it was suggested that those who were already present at the council should have informal theological debates. Eventually, it was agreed by all to debate the teaching of purgatory.[14] Probably because they were the two most important Eastern leaders at the council, Mark of Ephesus and Bessarion were chosen to represent the Greeks. The Pope chose Cardinal Julius Caesarini, Archbishop Andrew of Rhodes, and John of Torquemada to represent the West.[15]

On June 4, 1438, the informal debates began. Caesarini introduced the Western position: at their death, the saints immediately receive their blissful reward, those who die in mortal sin are sent justly to the fires of hell, and all other Christians not in the state of mortal sin need some sort of purification to prepare them for their eventual entrance to heaven. These souls will be purified by the fires of purgatory.[16] He justified the Latin position by references to scripture, patristic authors, and also by a philosophical examination of divine justice.[17]

Mark of Ephesus gave a brief, preliminary response, on June 14th. But it was Bessarion who would give the first official rebuttal. He denied the Latin position, but did not offer a positive statement on what it was that the Greeks believed.[18] He suggested that the Latin view was tainted by Origenism. As for what the patristic sources said, he acknowledged that they showed that prayers could be said for the dead, but this did not prove that their souls were purified by a literal fire. He also admitted that Latin fathers like Sts Augustine and Ambrose believed such souls were purified by a literal fire. However, Bessasrion pointed out that when they did so, they were only giving their own private opinion about the afterlife, and so should not be seen as offering a dogmatically binding teaching.

John of Torquemada was to make the next reply. He said purgatory should not be seen as Origenist, because the West also detested Origenism as much as the East. He also pointed out that the Latin fathers could not be so easily dismissed as Bessarion tried to do. Like the Greek fathers, they were guided by the Holy Spirit. In fact, Augustine’s authority was recognized by many councils. Having been shown that the teaching was ancient, and its theology was sound, the Greeks should either accept it or provide a superior alternative.

Mark’s reply is interesting. He was forced to say that Church Fathers could in fact err, and he showed St Gregory of Nyssa to be one who was prone to follow the errors of Origen.[19] The debates did not progress much further than this, and after six weeks of debate, neither side had changed their position.[20]

Meanwhile, things were terrible in Florence that summer. An outbreak of the plague worsened the mood of those within the city. Many of the Latin clerics left the city, and the council meetings were put on hold until the situation improved. Many of the Greeks wanted to leave and go to Venice until the council could be restarted. The emperor did not accept many of those requests. Instead, he wanted the delegates to remain in the city and work with those Latins who remained to resolve many procedural questions. The most important of them was how voting was going to be done at the council. If it were to be merely a matter of counting votes, the West had a significant advantage. The Latin clerics easily outnumbered the Eastern delegates. Finally an agreement was made. The Latins would debate amongst themselves, and vote amongst themselves, and what they agreed to would represent the Latin position at the council. The same applied to the Greeks, and consensus would be declared if both the sides reached the same conclusion. They also determined that, when the dogmatic sessions of the council opened, that the filioque would be up for debate. However, both sides wanted to approach the question differently: should the debates begin on the theological merits, or on the question of whether or not the Latins had the authority to add it to the Nicene Creed? The Greeks won this battle, and so on the eighth of October, when the council was back in session, they debated on whether or not the filioque could legitimately be added to the creed.[21]

Why could the West make no addition to the Nicene Creed? Because, Mark of Ephesus pointed out, the declaration of the Council of Ephesus had forbidden any tampering with the creed; it also forbade the creation of any new creeds.[22] Even if the teaching was legitimate, which Mark did not believe, the canons did not allow any private party to change the creed outside of the authority of an ecumenical council. This was the central position that the Greeks consistently pressed upon the Latins. To emphasize his point, on the sixteenth of October, Mark read through the complete decrees of the Seven Ecumenical Councils, and showed how they continued the norm established at Ephesus. After he read from the decree of II Nicea, to the surprise of the Greeks, the Latins provided an old copy of the decree, in Latin, where the filioque could be found.[23] The Greeks could only respond by suggesting that the text had been tampered with.[24]

Andrew of Rhodes then opened up with the Latin position, stating that the filioque should not be seen as a literal addition to the creed. Rather, it was only an explanation for what was already contained within it.[25] The Council of Ephesus had rejected the creation of a new symbol of faith, but did not forbid its translation. Thus they allowed this kind of alteration to the text, because a translation required the translator to interpret the text in its original language and determine how best to restate it in the new tongue. More importantly, the words of the creed had been changed. The creed of Nicea was different from the creed of I Constantinople. Was this to be seen as a fundamental change to the creed? If not, if it is to be seen as explaining what was implied by the creed of Nicea, then the filioque is to be seen in such a light. The Latins needed it to confront a particular heresy which the Greeks did not face. Since it still taught the same faith, it was not what was rejected at Ephesus.[26] Certainly one of the questions which came up was whether or not the Pope had the authority to add such an explanation to the text, but the question of the limits of papal authority, while important, would only be discussed briefly much later.[27]

As the debate continued, both sides talked past each other. The Latins wanted to talk more about the theological content implied by the filioque, while the Greeks thought their strongest case was based upon the canonical question. Finally, on the thirteenth of December, when it could be seen that neither side would budge, it was agreed that the theological merits of the filioque could also be addressed. But this would have to happen later. Many other problems had to be addressed.

The Greeks were growing impatient, and they feared that Constantinople might be taken while they were away. To make matters worse, the plague which had swept through the city during the summer had not been put under control; while it eased off in the winter, it was expected to return in full force in the spring. It was suggested that the council move to another city, and, after many arguments, both sides agreed that the council would move from Ferrara to Florence. When the Medici offered to transport and house the Greek delegation in Florence, the Greeks agreed to the transfer.[28] The city welcomed the council. They saw it would elevate their honor and provide for many important commercial opportunities for its citizens. Moreover, there was a large number of humanist scholars interested in classical antiquity residing in the city, and they believed the Greeks would provide them with copies of many important texts which the West did not possess. [29]

After moving to Florence, debates resumed in the March of 1439. At this time, the emperor was sick, and Patriarch Joseph was in bad health. Joseph would never fully recover, and would die before union was achieved. The question of theological validity of the procession of the Spirit began in earnest, and several important points were made. The Greeks stated unequivocally that the Fathers of the Church had proclaimed the monarchy of God the Father in the Trinity, and that this must be maintained. The Holy Spirit also must be seen to have only one origin for its existence, and this origin comes from the Father. But did not the filioque suggest that the Holy Spirit had two origins for its existence? That was the problem they had with the Latin teaching.

The Latins agreed that the Spirit has only one causation. To say that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son, is to say that the Father and Son together form one united origin for the Spirit. In their debates, they said that the Fathers of the Church assented to such a procession. Syllogisms used to support the filioque did not impress the Greeks, but patristic references did. Some, like Bessarion, began to be convinced. Searching through their own materials, they even found confirmation of its teaching in various authors, especially in the writings of St. Maximus the Confessor.[30] But they suggested that the best way to word the procession is to say that the Spirit proceeded from the Father through the Son. Thus, those who would come to favor of the union believed that the Greek and Latin traditions were saying the same thing. Mark of Ephesus, opposed to the union, and believing that the filioque was heresy, held his ground. He suggested that the texts of the Latin Fathers could not be verified, and that the texts of the Greek Fathers the West used were corrupted. Tired, worn out, and with a schism in the Greek party, Bessarion put forward one final and important suggestion. If it is agreed upon that the Fathers speak through the light and inspiration of the Holy Spirit, then they could not be in fundamental disagreement.[31] Thus, if the Latin Fathers and the Greek Fathers seem to be in conflict, the conflict could only be apparent and not real; the teachings had to be pointing to the same dogmatic truth. It was in this way that the Greeks, grown weary from the debates, slowly agreed to the filioque.

Even by accepting this proposal, there were matters other matters to be worked out. The question on what kind of bread should be used for the eucharist was easily resolved: both sides can follow their own traditions.[32] Of the remaining questions, the most important was the role of the Pope in relation to the other Patriarchs. Here we can see that compromises were made by both sides. The Pope was granted many of the titles which the West had grown accustomed to using, while nonetheless it was stipulated that the rights and privileges of the Eastern Patriarchs would be kept intact, and that the ranking of the Patriarchs would continue along the designation established at Chalcedon.[33] On July 6, 1439, after much careful deliberation, the decree of union was promulgated, and all the Greeks who remained at the council save Mark of Ephesus signed it.

If there was such a success at the Council, why does history designate it as a failure? There were two major reasons for its downfall. The first had to do with the reception of the council by the laity and the clergy who were not at the council itself. Almost immediately, many of them saw the council as heretical and denounced those who supported it. “When the Greek bishops returned to Constantinople, they were stoned.”[34] In Moscow, Metropolitan Isidore was kicked out of his office, briefly imprisoned, and upon release fled out of Russia.[35] It is important to note, unlike in Constantinople, the secular government in Russia clearly rejected the union. The Byzantine situation was more complicated. The emperor and his successors gave their support to the union. Many at the court and the higher clergy accepted it. But the rest of the laity would have nothing to do with it. Until his death in 1444, Mark of Ephesus became the leading opponent of the union. The emperor and other unionists could find no one who could challenge Mark of Ephesus for the sympathies of the people. Indeed, George Scholarius, who once supported the union, changed sides and became Mark’s “successor” after Mark died in 1444.[36] When the city fell to the Turks, Scholarius would eventually be elevated to the position of Patriarch, ensuring that the schism lived on.[37]

However, there was a brief period, before the fall of the city, that the people could have been persuaded to accept the union. After Isidore went into exile, he became a Papal legate and was sent to Constantinople. When he arrived at the city, he had brought with him a contingent of soldiers to help defend the city.[38] The news was welcomed by the people. Their cries against the union had, for a time, been squashed. They believed that perhaps the Pope would actually provide the aid he had promised. Perhaps the fall of the empire could be prevented. But this was not to be. The Pope tried to enlist the aid of Western princes in the defense of Constantinople, but he was never able to get enough to stop the Turks. The city was doomed, and with it, the Florentine union.

At two important times in history the efforts for ecclesiastical reunion failed. The first time it was doomed from the start. The second time, however, had a slight chance of success. After Florence, there was little opportunity for any ecumenical dialogues to take place between Rome and Constantinople until modern times. Moscow, of course, wanted nothing to do with Rome. But to say the councils failed is not to tell the full story. Many positive achievements were made because of these contacts between the East and the West, and it is here we must briefly turn before answering the final question we proposed at the beginning of the essay, which was, what lessons can the ecumenical movement learn from these councils?

Notes

[1] Deno J. Geanakoplos, “A New Reading of the Acta, Especially Syropoulos,” in Christian Unity: The Council of Ferrara-Florence 1438/9 – 1989, ed. Giuseppe Alberigo (Leuven: Leuvem University Press, 1991), 351.
[2] Henry Chadwick, “The Theological Ethos of the Council of Florence,” in Christian Unity: The Council of Ferrara-Florence 1438/9 – 1989, ed. Giuseppe Alberigo (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1991), 239.
[3] Steven Runcimann, The Fall of Constantinople 1453 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965), 4-5.
[4] Although it is clear that the Emperor did not want to be trampled by the Pope or the West, throughout the council he threatened to leave whenever he felt his own honor was impugned.
[5] Richard P. McBrien, Lives of the Popes, 253 -4.
[6] See the introduction in Nicholas of Cusa, The Catholic Concordance, ed. and trans. Paul E. Sigmund (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), xii.
[7] He even volunteered to fund the council itself, to make sure the Greeks could attend.
[8] Joseph Gill, S.J., The Council of Florence (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1959), 81.
[9] Martin Anton Schmidt, “The Problem of Papal Primacy at the Council of Florence,” in Church History 30 (1961):36.
[10] Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 513 -17.
[11] Ivan N. Oostroumoff, The History of the Council of Florence, trans. Basil Popoff (Boston: Holy Transfiguration Monastery, 1971), 38-40.
[12] Joseph Gill, The Council of Florence, 107.
[13] John Fennell, A History of the Russian Church to 1448 (New York: Longman, 1995), 174.
[14] Joseph Gill, The Council of Florence, 116.
[15] Ivan N. Oostroumoff, The History of the Council of Florence, 46.
[16] Ibid., 47.
[17] Scriptural passages used include: II Maccabees 12:46, Matthew 12:32 and I Corinthians 3:11-15. For patristic authority, among those he appealed to were Sts Ambrose, Augustine, Gregory the Great, Basil the Great, Gregory of Nyssa, and Epiphanius of Cyprus. See James Jorgenson, “The Debate Over the Patristic Texts on Purgatory at the Council of Ferrara-Florence, 1438” in St Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly 30 (1986):310 – 12.
[18] Ibid., 326-7.
[19] Ibid., 330.
[20] Reading back into the debates with developments of Western theology on the nature of purgatory (and hell), it would seem that a major part of the impasse has to be the fact that both sides were talking past each other. The Western tradition recognizes the fact that descriptions of purgatory need not be taken literally, although they tended to be so during the time Florence.
[21] Joseph Gill, The Council of Florence, 145.
[22] Ivan N. Ostroumoff, The History of the Council of Florence, 67.
[23] Joseph Gill, The Council of Florence, 148.
[24] At the time of the council this difficulty would consistently hamper dialogue, and yet it was an issue the council was not set up to handle. There were no critical texts of the Fathers to use. Each side had to rely upon the copies that were held in their own possession. When there was a conflict between different copies of a given text, the easy way out was to suggest there was wholesale corruption. Mark of Ephesus would, more than any other, make this claim throughout the council. See John H. Erickson, The Challenge of our Past (Crestwood, New York: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1991), 159 – 160 for the internal dispute between Mark of Ephesus and Bessarion of Nicea that developed concerning this issue. While, as Erickson points out, corrupt texts might have helped foster reunion, nonetheless many of the text cited by the Latins were legitimate and the Greeks did have problems of their own. Textual accuracy was a problem for both sides.
[25] Deno J . Geanakoplos, “A New Reading,” 334.
[26] Ivan N. Ostroumoff, The History of the Council of Florence, 76.
[27] See Martin Anton Schmidt, “The Problem of Papal Primacy,” 38 which shows how the debates over the primacy of the Pope began on June 16, 1439 and the union between the churches was to occur on July 6. That left very little time for any debate before documents were written, modified, fixed, and accepted by both parties.
[28] Henry Chadwick, East and West, 266.
[29] Joseph Gill, The Council of Florence, 184 - 186.
[30] See Ivan N. Ostroumoff, The History of the Council of Florence, 126.
[31] Joseph Gill, The Council of Florence, 241.
[32] See Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 527.
[33] The Latin of the decree reads, “Renovantes insuper ordinem traditum in canonibus ceterorum venerabilium patriarcharum, ut patriarcha Constantinopolitanus secondus sit post sanctissimum Romanum pontificem, tertius vero Alexandrinus, quartus autem Antiochenus, et quintus Hierosolymitanus, salvis videlicet privilegiis omnibus et iuribus eorum.” Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 528. For the corresponding Greek passage, see Tanner as well.
[34] Laurence J. James, “Byzantine Realpolitik and the Effects of Hesychasm Upon the Eastern Church Following the Council of Florence-Ferrara (1438 – 1445),” in The Patristic and Byzantine Review 11 (1992): 70.
[35] John Fennell, A History of the Russian Church, 179 – 181.
[36] Michael S. Azkoul, “St. Gennadius Scholarius and the Latin Theological Tradition: An Introduction,” in The Patristic and Byzantine Review 10 (1991): 170.
[37] Steven Runcimann, The Great Church in Captivity, 168 – 70.
[38] Steven Runcimann, The Fall of Constantinople, 69.

From Schism to the Council of Florence: Parts I and II

I have been relatively busy of late, but plan to get back to writing soon. Until then, I thought I would slowly put up parts of a paper I wrote in the fall of 2004 for a seminar I took at CUA. The paper was written relatively quickly, and probably needs some editing, but I thought there is enough in it which is quite good and worthwhile that I would put it up here.

I. A Tale of Three Cities

When Christians heard that the great city of Constantinople had fallen to the Turks on May 29, 1453, they were horrified. Nicholas of Cusa, amazed by the violence, felt the full impact of it in his grief. It led him to try to understand why religions fought so cruelly against each other. His response was to write a plea to the different the religions of the world, asking them to come together and work for a peaceful resolution of their differences. He believed they could produce a concordance of their beliefs, which allowed for a diversity of practices in a unified faith.[1] Perhaps he was influenced by his previous work in Constantinople, where he went to call the Greeks to an Ecumenical Council with the express purpose of reuniting the Greeks with the Latins. He saw dialogue was the means of peace. This council, the Council of Ferrara-Florence of 1438 -1445, was the second major attempt, beyond the use of sheer force, to bridge the schism which separated Rome from Constantinople. [2] The first, the Council of Lyons II in 1274, was important for ecclesiastical reforms it initiated. At both councils, the Greeks hoped reunion would encourage the West to protect the empire from all who sought to destroy it. Even though both councils received the support of the emperor, the Byzantine populace did not accept them. They thought that what was agreed to in them was in error, and that the Orthodox faith had been betrayed.[3]

The Pope tried to get Western military aid for Constantinople. While what was sent to Constantinople slowed down the Turkish advance, there was not enough aid to stop it. Constantinople’s fall was only a matter of time.[4] In the aftermath, Byzantium found a spiritual and political heir in Russia. Within a century of this monumental event, Russian apocalyptic literature was already designating Moscow as the third Rome, the final successor of the old empire.[5] Both of its ancestors, Rome and Constantinople, had fallen, first to a spiritual decline, and than to the infidel as a punishment for their errors. At last there were three great cities, and each had a rival claim for religious and secular authority. The attempts to forge a unity between Rome and Constantinople had becomes the means by which more discord was sown within Christendom.

While both unions failed, it is disingenuous to think that nothing positive came from them. To fully assess their value, not only must we take not as to why they failed, we must also look to see how they affected both sides of the Christian divide. When we do this, we will see some major work was achieved, not only at both of the councils, but also in their wake.

In the following essay we will look at the historical context of the councils, look at what was declared at them, and see why, if they reestablished unity, it was only for a fleeting moment of time. But we will not stop there. We will see how the councils helped spawn a different kind of dialogue, that of an intra-religious dialogue, where both sides had to re-examine their own religious traditions in light of what they learned at the councils. And finally, we will look at what lessons they can teach to the ecumenical movement. If we can learn from our mistakes, we might be able to forge a better future.


II A Bleak House, A Church Divided

To truly understand why Lyons II and Florence failed, we must look at them in context of their pre-history. We must understand why there was a schism between the East and the West, and also see what historical events helped strengthen the division between the churches. Thus, we will see that the disputes were often on theological issues, but there were many non-theological factors at work.

While many history books place the start of the schism 1054, this is an over simplification. Before then, there were many instances of schism between Rome and Constantinople. Each time, while unity was re-established, the relationship between the Sees was never fully healed. This helps point to the fact that the schism developed over a course of several centuries, long before 1054.[6] Certainly the lack of a common language between the West and the East did not help. Theology developed differently in the two traditions. Few could see that such a diversity was developing, and when they did it was too late. Rival ecclesiologies had sprung up. The West believed that the authority to lead the whole Church was granted to the Bishop of Rome. The Greeks, on the other hand, believed that authority rested upon the collegial activity of the so-called Pentarchy: the Sees of Rome, Constantinople, Alexandria, Antioch and Jerusalem, under the guidance of the teachings and canons of the first Seven Ecumenical Councils. This question of authority and primacy in the Church was played out over the question of the filioque.

Much could have been done by both the Greeks and the Latins to restore communion. Instead, both sides began to write polemical tracts against each other. These arguments were only a cover for a far greater problem: both sides lacked the humility and charity needed to heal the schism. Certainly whatever good will the Greeks might have had for the West was lost after the sacking of Constantinople in 1204. The elevation of a Western clergyman to the position of Patriarch in Constantinople was just one of many insults the Greeks endured at this sad point in history and this fostered a renewed polemical tradition against the Latins by the Greeks.[7] One can say that the indignity felt by the East became the central non-theological component behind the continuation of the schism. After the sacking of Constantinople, “mutual accusations turned into a real uprising of hatred…”[8] Many fled the city, and moved to the outskirts of the old Byzantine Empire, to Nicea, to form a new but smaller empire. Those who remained were forced to become Latins, and even after Constantinople was retaken by the Greeks, the people never forgot nor forgave the West for the humiliation they endured.

Michael Palaeologus (VIII) took back Constantinople from the West on July 25, 1261.[9] He found himself in a precarious situation. When Charles of Anjou became the king of Sicily, he wanted to take Constantinople for himself. To the East, the Turks continued their advance against the Byzantine Empire. Faced with the possibility of a war on two fronts, Michael, “did what he could to avert the danger by diplomatic and military measures. But he had the wit to see the ultimate deterrent to his Latin enemies lay in the moral authority and the restraining influence of the Pope.” [10] He believed that if he could foster a reunion of the churches, the Pope would back Michael against Charles of Anjou.

Pope Clement IV welcomed the idea of reunion, but he wanted it to be done only on his terms. He made it clear that the Greeks would have to accept Papal claims to authority, as well as the Western teachings on the filioque and purgatory. The Greeks would also have to follow the Latins in using unleavened bread for the eucharist. Clement knew it would be a difficult agreement for the Greeks to accept, but he “added in a subsequent letter that the emperor had great power over the Greek clergy and should simply coerce his subjects into union.”[11]

While Michael did not initially agree to Clement’s terms, he continued to hold a series of talks with Rome. Eventually he resigned himself to accepting the Papal demands. By that time Pope Clement IV was dead. His successor, Pope Gregory X, “made the liberation of the holy places the central theme of his pontificate.”[12] He believed that this could be accomplished by a united Christendom, and so was pleased with Michael’s desires for Christian unity. While Gregory did not change the stipulations for reunion, he was diplomatic enough to know that the agreement needed to be signed at a church council. In 1272, he issued a Bull for such a council to take place in 1274. The place he chose for the council was Lyons. Beyond reunion with the Greeks, he gave the council the objectives of collecting funds for a new Crusade and ecclesiastical reform.[13]

The Council of Lyons II was not set up to allow any formal debate between the Greeks and Latins. Michael promised the Pope that the Greeks would accept whatever the council decreed. He sent a layman, George Acropolites, to swear fidelity to the council on his behalf.[14] Thus it can be said the debates at the council were mostly focused upon internal Western concerns. This is not to say there was no theological investigation or achievement at the council to deal with the Greek situation. By this time, polemics on both sides of the schism focused on the filioqu. The Greeks had made the charge that the Latin filioque meant that there were two origins for the Holy Spirit. The council, taking note of this objection, agreed that such an interpretation would be in error. When they proclaimed the filioque, they said it must be understood in such a way that the Holy Spirit came from a single origination.[15] Despite the way the council favored the Latins, it is interesting to see this concession given to the Greeks. The West was not entirely unsympathetic to the Greeks, and made this change to rectify the situation.

There are two major reasons why the council failed to reconcile the East with the West. The first was the fact that unity was imposed, and not established through debate and dialogue. The Greeks did not place their heart into the union. Because they were told they were going to accept whatever was decreed at the council, the Greeks did not send a large delegation. Those who went were there mostly for ceremonial purposes. Only three important officials represented the East at the council – the layman George Acropolites, the ex-Patriarch of Constantinople Germanos III, and Theophanes the Metropolitan of Nicea.[16] The second reason was that the general populace reacted unfavorably to the council and its decrees. They had only recently broken their bondage from the West, and saw it as an example of the West once again trying to take control of Byzantium. Politicians might have obeyed the emperor’s wishes and agreed to the dictates of the council, but only a few Byzantines actually came to accept what the council taught. The most important of these was John Bekkos.[17] The unity was short lived, and did not last past Michael’s death. His son, Andronicus II, repudiated the council soon after his elevation to the throne. When Michael had died, he was rejected by many of the Greeks as a heretic, and anathematized by Pope Gregory’s successor, showing that neither side fully appreciated his attempts for unity.[18]

Notes

[1] He wrote one of the first great writings on religious pluralism, De Pace Fidei, where he begins by decrying the religious violence which spawned the destruction of Constantinople, “Fuit ex his, quae apud Constantinppolim proxime saevissime acta per Turkorum regem divulgabantur, quidam vir zelo Dei accensus, qui loca illarum regionum aliquando viderat, ut pluribus gemitibus oraret omnium creatorem; quod persecutionem, quae ob diversum ritum religionum plus solito saevit, sua pietate moderaretur.” Nikolaus von Kues, Philosophisch-Theologische Schriften, Band III (Wien, Austria: Herder & Co., 1967), 706.

[2] After the decree of unity was signed with the Greeks in 1439, the council continued to work and call other separated churches, such as the Coptic Orthodox Church, back into communion with Rome.

[3] See for example Deno John Geanakoplos, Interaction of the “Sibling” Byzantine and Western Cultures in the Middle Ages and Italian Renaissance (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1976), 156 – 170 for the general reaction against the Council of Lyons, and George E. Demacopoulos, “The Popular Reception of the Council of Florence in Constantinople 1439 – 1453,” in St Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly 43 (1999): 37 – 53 for an important analysis on the reaction to the Florentine union.

[4] Cardinal Isidore, once the Metropolitan of Kiev, became the Papal Legate to the Byzantine emperor. Upon his entry into Constantinople in 1452, he proclaimed and celebrated the Florentine Union. He had brought with him a small number of troops, and the people of Constantinople for a time came to believe that Western aid was going to save them. This almost swayed them to accept the union. But by this time, the troops which would reach Constantinople would be too few, and not enough to hold back the Turks. See Steven Runciman, The Fall of Constantinople 1453 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965), 69 – 72; 82 -85.

[5] John Meyendorff, Rome, Constantinople, Moscow: Historical and Theological Studies (Crestwood, New York: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1996), 125.

[6] As Jaroslav Pelikan relates, “The formal severance of communion came later, but the loss of community had been there earlier. In many ways it seems correct to look for the religious and doctrinal origins of the split in the fourth, fifth and sixth centuries, even tough there was only occasional explicit acknowledgement of the widening gulf.” Jaroslav Pelikan, The Spirit of Eastern Christendom (600 – 1700), (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1974), 147.

[7] See John Meyendorff, Rome, Constantinople, Moscow, 78 -9.

[8] John Meyendorff, “St Peter in Byzantine Theology,” in The Primacy of Peter, ed. John Meyendorff (Crestwood, New York: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1992), 77.

[9] Henry Chadwick, East and West: The Making of a Rift in the Church, From Apostolic Times Until the Council of Florence (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 246.

[10] Donald M. Nicol, “The Byzantine Reaction to the Second Council of Lyons, 1274” in Councils and Assemblies, ed. G.J. Cuming and Derek Baker (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971), 115.

[11] Chadwick, East and West, 246 – 7.

[12] Richard P. McBrien, Lives of the Popes (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco: 1997), 219.

[13] Steven Runcimann, The Sicilian Vespers: A History of the Mediterranean World in the Later Thirteenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958; Canto edition, 1992), 148.

[14] Chadwick, East and West, 249.

[15] “Fideli ac devota professione fatemur, quod Spiritus sanctus aeternaliter ex Patre et Filio, non tanquam ex duobus principiis, sed tanquam ex uno principio, non duabus spirationibus, sed unica spiratione, procedit..” Concilium Lugdunense II in Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils: Volume One, ed. Norman P. Tanner, S.J. (Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 1990), 314.

[16] Deno J. Geanakopolos, “Bonaventura, the Two Mendicant Orders, and the Greeks at the Council of Lyons (1274),” in The Orthodox Churches and the East, ed. Derek Baker (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1976), 192-3.

[17] Known as the “unionist” Patriarch, John was not originally supportive of the union or its teaching on the filioque. Sergius Bulgakov tells us of his conversion while he was in prison: “It is a remarkable fact of his life that he began as an opponent of the union with the Latins that was being prepared by the emperor of Constantinople. He was imprisoned for this, and it was precisely the question of the procession of the Holy Spirit that for him was the chief stumbling block. In prison he obtained the works of the Latinizers on this question […] and they made upon him an impression so great that he became as ardent a defender of the Western doctrine as previously he had been an opponent of Latinism.” Sergius Bulgakov, The Comforter, trans. Boris Jakim (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 2004), 103.

[18] See Chadwick, East and West, 253.

Alexander Men Quote

Today's world crisis shows that there is no future for hostility, or defensive isolationism, or eclecticism, but that dialogue can be fruitful for all participants. The followers of the religions of the world have something to say to mankind. Christianity brings the gospels, its service, its love. Of course, it is not so easy to learn tolerance and openness while remaining true to one's fundamental principles. Christians, though, have never thought that spiritual life was an easy matter, but rather an ascetic and heroic deed. The whole earth now needs this deed. On the eve of the two thousandth anniversary of the foundation of the Christian church, the world has reached a critical frontier. That is why dialogue has become not a luxury for intellectuals but a necessity of life.

---Alexander Men, "Christianity: The Universal Vision," in Christianity For the Twenty-First Century. Ed. Elizabeth Roberts and Ann Shukman (New York: Continuum, 1996).

Christian-Buddhist Dialogue

I want to encourage readers of The Well At The World's End to consider reading the texts I will be posting on the Christian-Buddhist Dialogue blog I created. The blog is for a class I am teaching this semester at Georgetown. It is an experiment and I want it to be successful. The texts will be written by students from my class, based upon the readings they have done for the week.

I want to encourage people to dialogue with the students, and the students with each other, by posting what they write online. For this to work, people will need to be willing to comment on what they say. I think if people do so, this experiment can be beneficial to everyone.

We Must Sow The Seed of Heaven In Our Lives

Medieval exegetes of Holy Scripture primarily used four ways or methods of interpreting a Scriptural text. The first was to look at the text according to its letter, that is, to find out and understand what the text said happened historically. The second was to look for the hidden, and therefore allegorical, meanings of a text; this method was seen as especially useful for the discernment of doctrinal truth in Scripture. The third was to explain the moral significance of the text: what does Scripture tell us about the human condition and how we should live? The fourth way, called the anagogical interpretation, used typology to explain how Scriptural events, including the people, places and things therein, represent things to come in our hoped-for end.

While all four methods were used, exegetes could produce radically different interpretations of a given text. Through the rise of modern hermeneutics, we can understand why this is so. What you take with you into a text will be the lens by which you understand and read that text. Each exegete would come to a given text with their own theological, philosophical, and historical beliefs, which, without question, led each of them to their own individualized Biblical interpretation. Not all of these interpretations, it must be said, are incompatible with one another; nor are all of them wrong. Indeed, many of them complement each other very well. The task for the exegete was to make sure his or her interpretation was compatible with the context of Christian tradition.

Many people consider the kinds of interpretations we can have of Scripture if we look at it within new cultural or philosophical perspectives. It must be noted that our current life and situation requires we do this. Our culture is radically different from the culture in which the texts were written and from the medieval culture which produced the interpretations of Scripture many know and follow. We must study the Sacred Scriptures according to the new cultural situation we live in. This does not mean that Holy Scriptures have to be made as a handmaiden to our culture, never criticizing it; but it does mean that our own cultural situation and scientific knowledge must be taken into account when we read the sacred text.

In Pope John Paul II’s great encyclical, Fides et Ratio, the Pope noted the need for Christian theologians and philosophers to take the ideas of the Indian religious and philosophical imagination into account, and adapt what in them is good and compatible with the Christian faith. “In India particularly, it is the duty of Christians now to draw from this rich heritage the elements compatible with their faith, in order to enrich Christian thought.” Pope John Paul II, Fides et Ratio. Vatican Translation, 72.

My own work in systematic theology has taken this to heart. There is a great variety of Indian thought, and it would be difficult if not impossible for one to gain a mastery of it all. Therefore, while gaining a broad understanding of it, one should also specialize; for me, that specialization lies with Buddhism. However, once a Christian begins to engage Buddhism, they quickly find out that the Buddhadharma is too wide and broad for one to specialize in all aspects of its history and teachings. One must choose specific areas of interest and focus upon them for one’s scholarly pursuits. The area of Buddhist thought which fascinates me the most is Yogacara Buddhism. Not only is it interesting, but it provides a rather thorough and useful examination of the human psyche and the way we experience the world. While I will not agree with all the Yogacarins profess, I believe many of their insights are compatible with Christian thought.

In the light of my studies, many Scriptural texts have taken on a new meaning. Each time I read them or hear them recited in liturgy, I keep thinking about how Yogacarin they sound. I keep thinking how interesting it would be to put these texts side by side, and interpret them according to a Yogacarin lens. Would such a task be useful? If they provide a new interpretation of the text, one which can be seen as representing at least one of the four primary medieval exegetical methods, and one which ends up being compatible with Christian thought, I would have to say yes. Not only would it provide a possible place for dialogue between Christians and Buddhists, it would also show that Christian thought could be enriched by such a dialogue.

Tradition states that Asanga, under the tutelage of the Bodhisattva Maitreya, founded Yogacara Buddhism sometime in the fourth century. Later, Asanga convinced his half-brother Vasubandhu to join this new school of Buddhist thought, making the two-half brothers the original proponents of its teachings. While Asanga was its founder, Vasubandhu’s writings, it could be argued, were far more influential in the spread of Yogacarin ideas.

Yogacara Buddhism, also known as Vijnanavada (the way of consciousness) or Cittamatra (mind-only) is one of many schools of Mahayana Buddhism. In order to understand the school, one must therefore understand some of the core principles of Mahayana Buddhism. Perhaps the two core Mahayana values are sunyata (which means emptiness) and karuna (compassion). The Mahayanist tries to merge the two together in themselves in order to become a Bodhisattva, one who in their quest for enlightenment seeks enlightenment or liberation not only for themselves, but for all sentient beings, and vows never to enter final nirvana until all beings have been liberated from suffering. While the Yogacarin agrees with the Madhyamakan on the fundamental emptiness of all phenomena of substantial, self-subsistent being, one can say the Yogacarin also looks for a positive ground of framework in which to establish this fundamental emptiness. They want to develop a way to overcome all possible nihilistic interpretations of sunyata.

While the Yogacarins kept to the basic teachings and practices of Mahayana, they provided a unique interpretation of them. Their interest lay in the psyche and how it develops and evolves, and their understanding of the psyche was based upon the combination of canonical Buddhist texts, their authoritative commentaries, and their own experiences in meditation. Many doctrines they produced became widely accepted by other followers of the Great Vehicle; others became hotly contested and disputed. More often than not, the Yogacarins are examined in relation to what they hold distinctly from other Buddhists, making it difficult to understand their teachings holistically. Thus, many of their critics exaggerate aspects of their thought to make their teaching turn into something which it is not: a belief in a substantial, eternal, self-subsistent self.

In saying this, however, I must add that it is many of their distinct teachings which, if they are put into a proper balance in relation to the rest of the Buddhadharma, that I find the most interesting. Any study on Yogacara Buddhism will note that in its understanding of consciousness, it has added several new layers of depth to an earlier, and more commonly accepted among Buddhists, teaching of human consciousness. Traditionally, it was understood that human consciousness was actually the combination of six different elements: the five western senses of sight, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching combined with a sixth mental sense. The mind, like the eye, is viewed as an organ of perception, one whose objects are mental instead of physical. Moment by moment these consciousnesses are constantly in flux, changing what they perceive and how they should be perceived, so that it must be understood that there is no unchanging, self-subsistent entity being described in them. Even the mind must be seen to exist in this perpetual flux so as not to be discerned as an immortal, unchanging eternal soul.

While the Yogacarins accept all six basic forms of consciousness, they believe that consciousness contains two more “mental” realities, and like the rest, they are in constant flux. The most important one, which to them is the root of all consciousness, is the alaya-vijnana, the storehouse consciousness. It is the base upon which all other forms of consciousness flow, what is contained within it influences how all other aspects of consciousness are experienced:

There the maturing [consciousness]
Is otherwise called the
store-consciousness,
Which carries the seeds of all [past experiences].

Stanza 2 of Vasubandhu, “A Treatise in Thirty Stanzas” in A Buddhist Doctrine of Experience. A New Translation and Interpretation of the Works of Vasubandhu the Yogacarin.. Thomas A. Kochumuttom (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1982), 135

The alaya can be said to be the unconscious base of consciousness in Yogacarin thought. It is called the storehouse consciousness because it contains the impressions of past deeds and experiences, which the Yogacarins call seeds:

Residual impressions from past aggregate-moments in the present consciousness-moment have been given the metaphorical designation ‘seeds.’ The metaphor is in some ways a very apt one. A ‘seed’ is actually a constantly changing series of interrelated energy-events which gradually, if conditions allow, will give rise to a sprout. Similarily, a ‘latent impression’ is a constantly changing series of moment-events which will, gradually, if conditions allow, give rise to a memory, or ‘reverberation’ in the consciousness-series.

Stefan Anacker, Seven Works of Vasubandhu (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1998), 61.

Like a seed, these impressions can change and mutate, or even be destroyed. What one does creates the seed, but the seeds then influence how one thinks and how one acts. “If a person engages in acts of lust, he becomes permeated with lust. As his mind repeatedly arises and passes away in tandem with lust, the lust becomes the generative cause for the [lustful] evolutions of his mind.” Asanga. The Summary of the Great Vehicle. Translated from the Chinese of Paramartha.. Trans. John P. Keenan (Berkeley, California: Numata Center For Buddhist Translation and Research, 1992), 21. In western terms, they can be seen as similar to habitual imprints in our consciousness, except for the fact that to the Yogacarins these imprints more than influence how we act, but they also become the hermeneutic base in which we experience reality.

For the second layer of consciousness is a transformation of this unconscious alaya into the conscious manas-vijnana, a consciousness which grasps the unconscious alaya with its contents, believing the alaya to be a reflection of an eternal, self-subsistent being. Grasping the alaya in this fashion, it then divides reality into a personal internal subject and external objects, turning the world purely into a realm of individual, self-subsistent objects to be interacted upon by the personal self. These external objects, however, are only understood and interpreted through the lens of the alaya,, that is, how these objects are experienced (as good, bad, or indifferent), and even the way they are perceived through our sense organs are based upon the seeds implanted within our unconscious mind. They create as it were a filter by which reality is perceived, clouding our vision of the world we live in.

The knowable internal form,
which appears as external,
is the object (of the cognition).

Dignaga. “Investigation About the Support of The Cognition” in Being as Consciousness. Fernando Tola and Carmen Dragonetti (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2004), 36.

The knowable form, the seed caught in one's unconscious mind, modifies the way reality is experienced. External reality is experienced as an object of perception by the sixth consciousness, experienced as a combination of the internal seed as it is taken and placed upon what our senses perceive, creating an apparent external reality, but in actuality, it is reality mixed with the defiled sense of experience covered by what the manas generates.

The consciousness contains all seeds;
Its such and such transformations
Proceeded by mutual influence,
On account of which such and such [subject-object] discriminations arise.

Stanza 17 of Vasubandhu, “A Treatise in Thirty Stanzas”,147.

From this it can be said that Yogacarins believe that a “common object” could be and would be experienced by people differently according to the seeds stored in their own alaya-vijnana. Indeed they would say there is but one reality with six realms or ways of experience (from the heavenly realms of bliss to the damnable hell-realms). Even in the same basic realm of experience, different people could and would experience a given “object” differently. A rabid dog, an animal control specialist, and a young girl desiring to have a pet cat, could and would experience a cute stray cat walking down an alleyway differently. The dog would attack it, the animal control specialist would view it as a pest that needs to be taken off the streets, and the young girl would see it as a potential friend.

We should keep in mind that what we have said so far is to be understood as a continual process, by which our actions and past actions already seeded in the alaya creates the base by which new actions are done; these new actions create new seeds in the alaya, fundamentally changing it, so that from moment to moment the alaya and its contents are similar to but not identical to one another. There is no unchanging entity behind all these actions. Because of this, the consciousnesses can be purified and transformed. An unclouded, undefiled experience of reality is possible. “From the total transmutation of the seed, there is the transmutation of the appearances of places, objects and bodies; this is the uncontaminated realm, and it has a universal basis.” Asanga. The Universal Vehicle Discourse Literature. Trans. L Jamspal, R. Clark, J. Wilson, L Willing, M Sweet and R. Thurman (Columbia, New York: American Institute of Buddhist Studies, 2004), 134.

How does one go about this transmutation? Surprisingly enough, it begins with its own seed, a desire for enlightenment. One who hears about the possibility of liberation is seeded, if ever so slightly, with the desire for its attainment. “The world-transcendent mind arises because its seed is the permeation of hearing that flows from the purest Reality Form.” Asanga. The Summary of the Great Vehicle , 31. This seed is said to develop into the dharmakaya the body of truth, that is the core of enlightened existence. “This permeation of hearing, whether lower, middle, or higher, is then the seed of the Dharma body. Because it rises in countering the container consciousness, it is not comprised within that container consciousness. Since it is an outflow from the world-transcendent, most pure Reality Realm, even though a worldly state, it brings about the world-transcendent mind.” Asanga. The Summary of the Great Vehicle. 32.

That is, while it is called a seed, unlike the other seeds, this seed transcends the personal alaya, and is able to overcome the contents within. There is a revolution within the alaya where that revolution, as it were, sets fire to the other seeds, destroying them. Of course, like a seed, it too must grow; this transformation of the base does not occur in an instant, but develops as one engages in it in the continued transformation of their consciousness. The goal is to experience the world outside of all defilements in one’s consciousness, thereby showing the world once experienced as samsara is itself in reality not other than nirvana.

In discussing the seeds as defilements of consciousness, we must understand that the experience they bring is not always negative. That is, while unwholesome deeds generate unwholesome seeds, wholesome deeds generate wholesome seeds, and wholesome seeds help create a more joyful and even pleasurable experience of reality. But the two are seen as defilements, because these deeds, even wholesome ones, make us cling to an imperfect and therefore limited experience of reality. Thus one can say that to transcend this defiled state one must transcend the way of works, not by rejecting works, but by overcoming any attachment to their effects.

Because of the concern that Yogacara Buddhism has for these seeds and the desire to purify ourselves of any defiling seeds within our consciousness that when I come to Scriptural texts which directly or indirectly use an analogy using seeds that I take notice of the text and see what a Yogacarin hermeneutic could make for the text.

Galatians 6:7 - 10 says, “Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatsoever you sow. If you sow to your own flesh, you will reap corruption from the flesh; but if you sow to the Spirit, you will reap eternal life from the Spirit. So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up. So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith.”

It does not take a scholar to notice that this text has a rather karmic tone to it. For every action there is a reaction, for every habit we develop, we will experience its resultant fruit. “Either make the tree good, and its fruit good; or make the tree bad, and its fruit bad; for the tree is known by its fruit” (Matt. 12:33). To sow according to the flesh is to sow according to the things of the flesh, making us entirely attached to them. Yet, since these things are impermanent, if we attach ourselves to them, we will suffer when we lose them. “As in the case of seeds, one who sows pulse cannot reap corn, for what is sown and what is reaped must both be of one kind, so is it in actions, he that plants in the flesh, wantonness, drunkenness, or inordinate desire, shall reap the fruits of these things. And what are these fruits? Punishment, retribution, shame, derision, destruction.” St John Chrysostom, “Homily on Galatians Chapter VI” in Nicene Post Nicene Fathers, Series I. Ed. Philip Schaff (Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson, 1994), Vol. 13, p. 45.

While a Yogacarin could agree with Chrysostom in saying that the consequences of such actions are punishments, they would point out that these punishments are self-contained within the actions that have been committed. Instead of trying to say these punishments are placed upon us by God, one could and should say that these punishments are self-imposed. It is not that one desires these punishments, but rather, out of ignorance of the consequences of their actions, one creates the conditions in which one will suffer. You truly reap what you sow, but you should know what seed it is you are planting before sowing it into the ground.

What about the spiritual seed? In interpreting the Parable of the Sower, Jesus suggests that this seed is planted into our consciousness by himself. “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man” (Matt. 13:37). How then are we to sow this seed, as St Paul tells us we should do, if it is sown by the Son of Man? It is by taking what Jesus tells us to do and to do it. “But the fruit of the Spirit is of a nature not similar but contrary in all respects to these. For consider; hast thou sown alms-giving? the treasures of heaven and eternal glory await thee: hast thou sown temperance? honor and reward, and the applause of Angels, and a crown from the Judge await thee,” ibid. p. 45.

The Yogacarin tells us that the seed for enlightenment is planted into our consciousness by our hearing of the dharma. “So faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes through the word of Christ” (Rom. 10:17). We must become a hearer of the word. We must be open to this word and receive it into our life. We must realize that this word is none other than the Word of God, the Word which is not-other than God himself. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1). Reception of this word is not a one-time event but takes a lifetime sowing, where we must unite ourselves to the very will of God, sowing what God desires us to sow, growing in the spirit, until the seed planted in our soul takes root and cleanses us of all sin and brings us to our desired end. “You have been born anew, not of perishable but of imperishable seed, through the living and enduring word of God” (1 Peter 1:23).

“Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them,” (Matt. 13:5 -7). It is not enough to hear the word and simply believe it: we must act upon it, and let this word completely enter into the very core of our being and transform us, purifying us of all defilement, ““for indeed our God is a consuming fire,” (Heb. 12:29). God desires us to experience the purity of reality, and will set us afire in his love, so that all our defilements, all our impure sowing, can be cleansed from our being. “If the work is burned up, the builder will suffer loss; the builder will be saved, but only as through fire,” (1. Cor. 3:15).

While we are called to sow according to the spirit, we must remember it is God who provides us the seed to sow. It is neither works alone nor grace alone. It is our work, in cooperation with the grace of God which provides to us, that leads us to our desired heavenly bliss. “He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness,” (2. Cor. 9:10).

In ignorance we sow what we do not know, and we create within ourselves the habits which will make ourselves suffer. Sin left unchecked leads to more sin, and eventually becomes habitual sin:

Directly, as when, by one sinful act, man is disposed to commit more readily another like act: because acts cause dispositions and habits inclining to like acts. Secondly, after the manner of a material cause, one sin is the cause of another, by preparing its matter: thus covetousness prepares the matter for strife, which is often about the wealth a man has amassed together. Thirdly, after the manner of a final cause, one sin causes another, in so far as a man commits one sin for the sake of another which is his end; as when a man is guilty of simony for the end of ambition, or fornication for the purpose of theft. And since the end gives the form to moral matters, as stated above (1, 3; 18, A4,6), it follows that one sin is also the formal cause of another: because in the act of fornication committed for the purpose of theft, the former is material while the latter is formal.

St Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica. Trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province (New York: Benziger Bros. edition, 1947), II.75.4.

We have sinned out of ignorance; in gaining wisdom, we can overcome sin. Sin covers and darkens the soul, preventing us from experiencing reality in its pristine purity and goodness. Indeed, much of our sin is caused by our desire for an apparent but unreal good. We think something will bring us joy; momentarily it is so, but then it is lost and we cannot recover it. But when the seeds of sin are cleansed from us by the purifying fire of love, we shall no longer see the world as a world of shadows and darkness. We shall not be fooled by apparent goods. Knowing that they are markers on the road to perdition, we will ignore them, turning ourselves instead to the beauty of pure goodness. “The soul does not want a good that is only apparent. And if it is under the sway of some habit, it is also quite able to overcome this habit. Yet even before the habit was formed it had been deceived by ignorance. Hence one should above all strive after a true knowledge of created beings, and then spur one’s will towards primal goodness…,” St Theodoros the Great, “Theoretikon” in The Philokalia: The Complete Text. Volume Two.. Trans. and ed. by G.E.H. Palmer, Philip Sherrard and Kallistos Ware (Boston: Faber and Faber, 1990), 46.

Proverbs 11:18 tells us, “The wicked earn no real grain, but those who sow righteousness get a true reward.” Evil does not exist in itself; it must be seen as a deprivation of the good; the wicked earn no real grain, only pestilence, because the seed they sow is like a cancer eating away at our very soul. The habits we create determine the direction our soul is moving, but we must realize these habits are created by ourselves and we do not have to become creatures of habit. “Consequently man, while possessing a habit, may either fail to use the habit, or produce a contrary act; and so a man having a virtue may produce an act of sin,” St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, II.73.4. If we find ourselves in habitual sin, we must not allow ourselves to become a slave to that habit, but seek for the grace to overcome it. We must not let it become the Lord of our life. Even if we do not overcome it in this life, the seed of grace, planted in our soul, can purify us through the purgatorial trial of fire that leads to heaven, as long as we do not squash that grace and turn it into naught.

Earlier in this essay I suggested that a new hermeneutic for Scriptural understanding should be welcomed if it provides for a complimentary understanding of Scripture; it must be one which does not override Christian doctrine, but rather provides for us a fuller and richer understanding of Scripture, especially if it does so according to at least one of the four primary ways of Scriptural interpretation. However, in this brief excursus, one can argue I have engaged not one but two exegetical senses: that is, according to a moral and an anagogical sense. Morally speaking, Yogacara Buddhism shows us how habits not only influence how we act, but how we think, and explain why bad habits can pervert the way we think. Anagogically speaking, we are shown why all defiled habits must be cleansed from us; because they influence how we think, they influence how we experience reality. If we are to experience the pristine goodness and beauty of God and God’s creation, which is what we seek for, we are shown why this will not be accomplished until the seed of grace, granted to us in baptism, purifies us and leads us to our heavenly rebirth. In the end, when we have truly been born into the heavenly kingdom, we will not sin, and we will not suffer the consequences of sin in our life any longer, since “Those who have been born of God do not sin, because God’s seed abides in them; they cannot sin, because they have been born of God,” (1 John 3:9).