Fr. George Dion. Dragas

The Eighth Ecumenical Council:
Constantinople IV (879/880)
and the Condemnation of the
Filioque Addition and Doctrine

This originally appeared in The Greek Orthodox Theological Review, Vol. 44, Nos. 1-4, 1999, pp. 357-369.
Typographical errors have been corrected.

Preamble

Did the Eighth Ecumenical Council of Constantinople (879/880) condemn the Filioque addition to the Ecumenical Creed as canonically unacceptable and theologically unsound? This is the question that this paper attempts to answer in light of recent discussions between Orthodox and Lutherans in America. It consists of three parts, a) clarifications concerning the "Eighth Ecumenical Council," b) the significance of the Horos of this Council for the Filioque controversy, and c) a fresh look at the Horos itself of this Council.

a) Clarifications concerning the Eighth Ecumenical Council

As far as Ecumenical Councils go the Greek Orthodox East and the Latin West appear to be divided at the point where the Eighth Ecumenical Council is introduced. Both Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholics accept the first Seven Ecumenical Councils.¹ Beyond these Seven Councils, however, the Roman Catholics enumerate several others, which bring the total number to 21 — Vatican II being the latest.² The Orthodox Church does not enumerate any more beyond the Seven, although she accepts several Councils which occurred afterwards and call themselves "Ecumenical" (as their minutes show). One of them is the so-called Eighth Ecumenical or Constantinople IV (879-880).³

Roman Catholic scholars have repeatedly remarked that the Orthodox have not had — and for that matter, could not have had — any further Ecumenical Councils beyond the first Seven after their separation from the Roman See in 1054. This is totally unjustified and misleading. Lack of enumeration does not imply lack of application. Orthodox conciliar history and relevant conciliar documents, clearly indicate the existence of several Ecumenical Councils after the first Seven, which carry on the conciliar life of the Church in history in a way which is much more rigorous than that of the Latin Church. These Councils [including that of Constantinople 879/880, the "Eighth Ecumenical" as it is called in the Tomos Charsa (Τόμος Χαρᾶς) of Patriarch Dositheos who first published its proceedings in 1705⁴ and also by Metropolitan Nilus Rhodi whose text is cited in Mansi's edition⁵] have not been enumerated in the East because of Orthodox anticipation of possible healing of the Schism of 1054, which was pursued by the Orthodox up to the capture of Constantinople by the Turks in 1453. There are other obvious reasons that prevented enumeration, most of which relate to the difficult years that the Orthodox Church had to face after the capture of Constantinople and the dissolution of the Roman Empire that supported it. This, however, is not a matter that needs to be discussed here.

The case of the Eighth Ecumenical Council provides the occasion not only for clarifying this divergence, but also for indicating the arbitrary conciliar development of the Church of Rome after its separation from the Eastern Orthodox Churches. For Roman Catholics the Eighth Ecumenical Council is a Council that was held in Constantinople in 869/870 — also known as the Ignatian Council, because it restored Ignatios to the Patriarchal throne — which among other matters procured the condemnation of Ecumenical Patriarch Photios.⁶ It is clearly confirmed by modern scholarship, however, that this Ignatian Council was rejected by another Constantinopolitan Council which was held exactly ten years later in 879/880. This Council is also known as the Photian Council, because it exonerated and restored to the Throne of Constantinople St. Photios and his fellow Hierarchs and was signed by both Easterners and Westerners.⁷ How did it happen that Roman Catholics came to ignore this conciliar fact? Following Papadopoulos Kerameus, Johan Meijer — author of a most thorough study of the Constantinopolitan Council of 879/880 — has pointed out that Roman Catholic canonists first referred to their Eighth Ecumenical Council (the Ignatian one) in the beginning of the twelfth century. In line with Dvornic and others, Meijer also explained that this was done deliberately because these canonists needed at that time canon 22 of that Council. In point of fact, however, they overlooked the fact that "this Council had been cancelled by another, the Photian Synod of 879-880 — the acts of which were also kept in the pontifical archives."⁸ It is interesting to note that later on the Roman Catholics called this Photian Council "Conciliabulum Oecumenicum Pseudooctavum", thereby acknowledging it implicitly as another Eighth Council rival to that of their own choice!⁹

The history of this Constantinopolitan Council, which has left its mark on the career of Ecumenical Patriarch Photios, one of the greatest Patriarchs of the Great Church of Christ, has been thoroughly researched by modern historians. Dvornic's pioneering work has restored the basic facts.¹⁰ Meijer in 1975,¹¹ Phidas in 1994¹² and Siamakis in 1995¹³ have refined these facts. There is no doubt to anyone who surveys this literature that the Roman Catholic position is untenable. The Photian Council of 879/880 is that which: i) annulled the Ignatian one (869/70), ii) enumerated the Seventh (787) adding it to the previous Six, iii) restored unity to the Church of Constantinople itself and to the Churches of Old and New Rome, which had been shattered by the arbitrary interference of the popes of Rome in the life of the Eastern Church especially through the Ignatian Council, and iv) laid down the canonical and theological basis of the union of the Church in East and West through its Horos.

b) The significance of the Horos of this Council for the Filioque controversy

It is with the theological basis of this Council that we are particularly concerned here. Did the Horos of faith of this Council, which was articulated at the sixth session in the presence of the King, have any bearings on the Filioque controversy? The Lutheran theologian Dr. Bruce Marshall has suggested that it did not. Indeed for him "the Filioque as a theological issue played virtually no role either in the breakdown of communion between Constantinople and Rome or in the restoration of communion; it was only much later that the theological issues surrounding the Filioque were even discussed between East and West."¹⁴ Furthermore, Dr. Marshall has claimed that it was only as a canonical issue that the Filioque played a role at that time, inasmuch as only its insertion into the Creed was considered to be unacceptable and constituted grounds for breaking communion. The implication of this argument, which is pursued by some Western scholars, is that contemporary discussions between Orthodox and Western Christians should not make the theological issue over theFilioque a criterion for restoring communion between them.

As a response to this thesis I want to recall the views of Orthodox scholars who have dealt with this Photian Council and more generally with the Councils of the 9th century which led to the overcoming of a big crisis in communion between East and West. By doing this I intend to convey that from an Orthodox point of view the distinction between what is "canonical" and what is "theological" is a juridical one and does not carry any real weight. Far from being helpful, it becomes an instrument for perpetuating an arbitrary situation that can only lead to unfruitful and precarious agreements.

In 1974 the American Orthodox scholar Richard Haugh, in a study of the history of the Trinitarian controversy between East and West with special reference to the Filioque, stated that "the sixth session of the Council of 879/880 had enormous bearings on the Triadological controversy."¹⁵ He defended this by citing and discussing the Horos of faith, which was formulated at that time.

Haugh examined the particular nuances of the Horos of this Council in the light of the subsequent writings of Photios relating to the Filioque doctrine¹⁶ — especially his Letter to the Patriarch of Aquileia¹⁷ and hisMystagogy on the Holy Spirit,¹⁸ both of which took the Horos as a powerful rebuff against the Frankish doctrine of the Filioque which formed the theological background to the theological controversy between Orthodox and Westerners at that time. Had the Horos of 879/880 not had any theological import on the Filioque then why does St. Photios refer to such an issue in these two documents? In no case, either before or after the Council of 879/880 did Photios reject the Filioque on just canonical grounds. Actually he explicitly stated that his grounds were both biblical and theological. They were biblical for they were based on the teaching of St. John's Gospel and on the explicit saying that the "Spirit proceeds from the Father" (full stop!). They were also theological in that the Filioque introduced two causes and two origins in the Trinity and thus utterly destroyed the monarchy of the Holy Trinity. Why would St. Photios write such a full theological critique as that of his Mystagogia only a few years later if his only concern were simply the preservation of the original wording of the Creed? Would it not have sufficed if he had simply referred to the canonical prohibition of the Horos of 879/880?

In 1975 Meijer published his thorough study of the Photian Council of 879/880 putting forward the thesis, as the title of his book stated, that this was "a successful Council of union." In part iii of this study, entitled "Reflection" he concluded: "the restoration of unity was the reason for the convocation of the Synod of 879-880. More precisely, perhaps, it celebrated peace once more in the Church of God."¹⁹ But he went on to explain that the basis of this unity was theological. In his own words, "this unity means first of all unity in the same faith. Photios was a strong defender of the purity of doctrine" [the italics are Meijer's]. Indeed, "where orthodoxy was concerned, Photios was the true spokesman of the Byzantine Bishops."²⁰ And Meijer goes on, "the West also attached great value to the purity of faith, but in fact concentrated more on the question of devotion to the Church of Rome. At the Synod of 879-880 the Fathers' care for purity of doctrine emerged in the Horos (the formula of faith of the Synod) which they proclaimed. This Horos cannot be understood as a dogmatic definition ... but rather as the true expression of the ecclesiastical feeling of the Synod ... expressed by the conciliar Creed of Nicaea-Constantinople ... There is no doubt that Photios opposed the addition of the Filioque to the Creed on dogmatic grounds. In his famous encyclical to the oriental Patriarchs he complained about this addition by the Frankish missionaries working in Bulgaria, because he considered it theologically unacceptable. His whole argument is based on the conviction that this addition undermined the unity of God. We find the same reasoning in his Mystagogia and in his letter to the Archbishop of Aquileia."²¹ Photios knew, of course, that the Roman Church had not approved of the Frankish Filioque, and hence she agreed on the conciliar refusal of inserting it into the Creed. He also knew, however, that the Franks were striving to introduce the Filioque into the Creed on theological grounds — as they eventually did. Thus Meijer concludes: "there is no doubt that the Horos of the Photian Synod officially disapproved of the [theological and for that matter canonical] use of the Filioque by the Frankish missionaries in Bulgaria [cf. the phrase he cites here from the Horos τῇ διανοίᾳ καὶ γλώσσῃ στέγομεν, which is reminiscent of St. Photios' Encyclical of 867] and was not directed against the church of Rome which at that time did not use the addition either."²²

In 1985 Dr. Constantine Siamakis stated in his extensive introduction to the new edition of Patriarch Dositheos' Τόμος Χαρᾶς the same point of view. "At this Ecumenical Synod the Filioque was condemned as teaching and as addition into the Symbol of the Faith."²³ In his description of the 6th session of the Council he stated: "The Filioque is condemned ...etc." and further on, "without mentioning the Filioque, the emperor asks for an Horos of the Synod and the synodical members present at this meeting propose the Horos of the first two Ecumenical Councils, i.e. the Symbol of the Faith, but without any addition and with the stipulation that any addition or subtraction or alteration in it should incur the anathema of the Church. This is accepted by the emperor who signs it and the synodical members who express their satisfaction."²⁴ It is important to note that Siamakis attempted a critical investigation of the text of the Minutes and exposed the intention of various Western manuscripts (e.g. Cod. Vaticanus Graecus 1892 of the 16th century) and of the various Western editors of the Acts of this Council (e.g. Rader's edition of 1604) to hide the fact that the Horos is in fact an implicit but clear condemnation of the Frankish Filioque.

More recently in 1994 Professor Phidas of Athens University stated the same point of view in his new and impressive manual of Church History. In his discussion of the Photian Council of 879/880 he wrote, that "the antithesis between the Old and the New Rome was also connected with the theological dispute over the "Filioque," which did not inhibit at that time the restoration of communion between Rome and Constantinople, since it had not been inserted into the Symbol of the Faith by the papal throne, but had acquired at that time a dogmatic character in the obvious tendency of diversification between East and West." Phidas also suggested, that "apparently the papal representatives may not have realized the scope of the suggestion of restating the traditional Creed in the Horos of the Council which was implicitly connected with the condemnation of the Filioque addition to this Creed, which had been already adopted in the West by the Franks ... Yet all the participating Bishops understood that this was meant to be a condemnation of the Filioque addition to the Creed."²⁵ Furthermore Phidas determined that the acceptance of the Horos by Pope John VIII was due to the influence of Zachariah of Anagne, librarian of the Vatican, papal legate at the Council and a friend and sympathizer of St. Photios to whom the latter addressed an epistle as a vote of thanks.

The above references clearly indicate that contemporary Orthodox scholarly opinion is unanimous in understanding the Horos of the Photian Council of 879/880 as having a direct bearing on the Filioquecontroversy. It condemns the Filioque not only as an addition to the Creed but also as a doctrine. It is acknowledged, of course, that this condemnation is implicit and not explicit in the strong and vehement condemnation in the Horos of any kind of addition to the Creed. That this implication is unavoidable is based both on the historical context of this Council — the conflict between Photios and the Frankish theologians, which lies in the foreground and background to this Council. To restrict this implication to a mere "canonical issue" which has no theological bearing, is unwarranted by the text and the dogmengeschichtlich context which entails Photios' opposition to the Frankish doctrine on the Filioque. This may become more apparent by looking afresh at the Horos itself.

c) a fresh look at the Horos itself of the Eighth Ecumenical Council

The following text is, to my knowledge, the first complete translation of the Horos of the Eighth Ecumenical Council which appears in both the minutes of the sixth and the seventh acts:²⁶

"Jointly sanctifying and preserving intact the venerable and divine teaching of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, which has been established in the bosom of our mind, with unhesitating resolve and purity of faith, as well as the sacred ordinances and canonical stipulations of his holy disciples and Apostles with an unwavering judgement, and indeed, those Seven holy and ecumenical Synods which were directed by the inspiration of the one and the same Holy Spirit and effected the [Christian] preaching, and jointly guarding with a most honest and unshakeable resolve the canonical institutions invulnerable and unfalsified, we expel those who removed themselves from the Church, and embrace and regard worthy of receiving those of the same faith or teachers of orthodoxy to whom honor and sacred respect is due as they themselves ordered. Thus, having in mind and declaring all these things, we embrace with mind and tongue (τῇ διανοίᾳ καὶ γλώσσῃ) and declare to all people with a loud voice the Horos (Rule) of the most pure faith of the Christians which has come down to us from above through the Fathers, subtracting nothing, adding nothing, falsifying nothing; for subtraction and addition, when no heresy is stirred up by the ingenious fabrications of the evil one, introduces disapprobation of those who are exempt from blame and inexcusable assault on the Fathers. As for the act of changing with falsified words the Horoi (Rules, Boundaries) of the Fathers is much worse that the previous one. Therefore, this holy and ecumenical Synod embracing whole-heartedly and declaring with divine desire and straightness of mind, and establishing and erecting on it the firm edifice of salvation, thus we think and loudly proclaim this message to all:

"I believe in One God, Father Almighty, ... and in One Lord Jesus Christ, the Only-begotten Son of God... and in the Holy Spirit, the Lord ... who proceeds from the Father... [the whole Creed is cited here]

Thus we think, in this confession of faith we were we baptized, through this one the word of truth proved that every heresy is broken to pieces and canceled out. We enroll as brothers and fathers and coheirs of the heavenly city those who think thus. If anyone, however, dares to rewrite and call Rule of Faith some other exposition besides that of the sacred Symbol which has been spread abroad from above by our blessed and holy Fathers even as far as ourselves, and to snatch the authority of the confession of those divine men and impose on it his own invented phrases (ἰδίαις εὑρεσιολογίαις) and put this forth as a common lesson to the faithful or to those who return from some kind of heresy, and display the audacity to falsify completely (κατακιβδηλεῦσαι ἀποθρασυνθείη) the antiquity of this sacred and venerable Horos (Rule) with illegitimate words, or additions, or subtractions, such a person should, according to the vote of the holy and Ecumenical Synods, which has been already acclaimed before us, be subjected to complete defrocking if he happens to be one of the clergymen, or be sent away with an anathema if he happens to be one of the lay people."

The solemnity and severity of this statement is quite striking. The reference to the Lord, the Apostles and the Fathers as guardians of the true faith clearly imply that what is at stake here is a theological issue. The issue is not just words or language but thought and mind as well. The whole construction clearly implies that there is some serious problem in the air which, however, is not explicitly named. The focus is the Creed, which is said to be irreplaceable. It is totally unacceptable to replace it with anything else. It is worse, however, to tamper with it, to add or to subtract from it. The addition or subtraction is not merely a formal matter, but has to do with the substance of the faith into which one is baptized and on which salvation in the Church is established. To commit such a mistake can only mean rejection of the faith once delivered to the saints and therefore can only incur expulsion from the Church. What else could St. Photios have in mind but the Filioque? Was there any other threat to the Creed at that time?

The Filioque was the only problem, which he himself above every one else had detected and denounced earlier on when he became fully aware of its severity. This is also the creedal problem, which he will pinpoint again shortly after this Synod, and will produce his extensive treatise on it. The purpose of this Horos could not be anything else but a buffer against the coming storm, which he foresaw. The Frankish theologians had already committed this error and were pressing for it with the Popes. Rome had resisted it, but for how long? He must have thought that an Ecumenical Council's Horos, which included severe penalties on those who tampered with the ancient faith, would be respected and the danger would be averted. That this was not only the mind of Photios but of the whole Council becomes obvious in the reactions of the Bishops to the reading of the Horos.

We read in the minutes of the Sixth act that after reading the Horos the Bishops shouted:

"Thus we think, thus we believe, into this confession were we baptized and became worthy to enter the priestly orders. We regard, therefore, as enemies of God and of the truth those who think differently as compared to this. If one dares to rewrite another Symbol besides this one, or add to it, or subtract from it, or to remove anything from it, and to display the audacity to call it a Rule, he will be condemned and thrown out of the Christian Confession. For to subtract from, or to add to, the holy and consubstantial and undivided Trinity shows that the confession we have always had to this day is imperfect. [In other words the problem which is implied but not named has to do with the Trinitarian doctrine]. It condemns the Apostolic Tradition and the doctrine of the Fathers. If one, then having come to such a point of mindlessness as to dare do what we have said above, and set forth another Symbol and call it a Rule, or to add to or subtract from the one which has been handed down to us by the first great, holy and Ecumenical Synod of Nicaea, let him be Anathema."²⁷

The minutes go on to record the approbation of this solemn statement by the representatives of the other Patriarchates and finally by the Emperor himself. The Emperor's statement and signature leave no doubt of the seriousness of this theological Horos which was issued by an ecumenical Council of the Church:

"In the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, Basil Emperor in Christ, faithful king of the Romans, agreeing in every way with this holy and ecumenical Synod in confirmation and sealing of the holy and ecumenical Seventh Synod, in confirmation and sealing of Photios the most holy Patriarch of Constantinople and spiritual father of mine, and in rejection of all that was written or spoken against him, 1 have duly signed with my own hand."²⁸

By way of epilogue it may be pointed out that the image of St. Photios that emerges from the acts of the Eighth Ecumenical Council is one of moderation, sensitivity and maturity. Confrontation is avoided but without compromising firmness in matters that relate to the faith. Generosity towards others is displayed and maturity permeates everything. This is indeed the image, which Prof. Henry Chadwick has recently resolved to promote.²⁹ This is the authentic image of the East. The Photian Council of 879/880 is indeed the Eighth Ecumenical of the Catholic Church, Eastern and Western and Orthodox. It is a Council of Unity — the last one before the storm of the great Schism — based on the common Holy Tradition and especially on the unadulterated faith of the Ecumenical Creed.

Notes

1. These Seven Ecumenical Councils are as follows: Nicaea (325), Constantinople I (382), Ephesus (431/3), Chalcedon (451), Constantinople II (553), Constantinople III (680/1), Nicaea II (787).
2. See the latest collection of Canons of Roman Catholic Ecumenical Councils: Norman R Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, Sheed & Ward, London, 1990.
3. The best known later Orthodox Ecumenical Councils are those connected with St Gregory Palamas in the 14th century, whose Horoi are basic texts of Orthodox Dogmatics. The Council of Constantinople of 1484, after the capture of the City by the Turks, which condemned the decisions of the unionist Synod of Ferrara-Florence (1437 9) also recognizes itself as "A Great Holy and Ecumenical Council." The whole issue of Ecumenical Councils, beyond the first eight of the first millennium, remains, to my mind, an open question, which could and should be addressed today.
4. See the 1985 reprint of the Thessalonian Publisher V. Regopoulos: Δοσιθέου Πατριάρχου Ἱεροσολύμων, Τόμος Χαρᾶς, Εἰσαγωγή, Σχόλια, Ἐπιμέλεια Κειμένων Κωνσταντίνου Σιαμάκη, Ἐκδόσεις Βασ. Ρηγόπουλου, Θεσσαλονίκη 1985. According to Siamakis this edition was based on a Manuscript from the Athonite Monastery of Iveron which, unfortunately, is now lost (see op. cit. pp. 90ff).
5. J. D. Mansi, Sacrorum Concilorum nova et amplissima Collectio, tom. 17, cl. 371f. This edition is a reprint from J. Harduin's earlier editions in 1703 and in 1767. This edition was based on a manuscript that was kept in the Vatican Library. Dr. Siamakis believes that it is probably Ms Vaticanus Graecus 1115 (15th century). On this and the later attempts in the West to falsify or edit these Minutes see further in Dr. Siamakis' Introduction. op. cit. pp. 104ff.
6. On the Eighth Ecumenical Council the Roman Catholic Hubert Jedin writes: "The Catholic Church recognizes the assembly of 869-70 as an ecumenical council. Not so the Greek Church. St Photios was rehabilitated and at the death of Ignatius he was once again raised to the patriarchal see. A synod assembled by him in 879-80 rejected the decisions of the previous council. The Greeks count this synod as the eighth ecumenical council, but a second schism was apparently avoided" (from his Ecumenical Councils of the Catholic Church: A Historical Outline, Herder: Freiburg, Nelson: Edinburgh, London 1960, p. 58). Jedin is inaccurate on several counts, but this is typical of most Western writers. The Council was summoned by Emperor Basil and was attended by the legates of Pope John VIII and of all the Eastern Patriarchs. Jedin says that the schism was apparently avoided, but does not explain that this was the case because the Pope through his legates had accepted not only St. Photios' restoration, but also the condemnation of the previous anti-Photian councils in Rome and in Constantinople. We should add here that the Minutes of the Ignatian Council (869/70), which have not survived in the original, are found in two edited versions: Mansi, vol. xvi: 16-208 (Latin) and xvi: 308-420 (Greek) and differ considerably from each other. On this and for a full description of the 10 Acts of these Minutes see Siamakis, op. cit. pp. 54-75. It is important to recall here that this Council was most irregular in its composition, since it included false legates from Alexandria and Jerusalem, more royal lay people than bishops (only 12) at the start and during the first two sessions. Eventually 130 bishops are mentioned in the Minutes but only 84 actually appear signing (op. cit. p. 56f). Most important irregularity, however, was the fact that the Minutes were mutilated at the most crucial points, especially the section of the condemnation of the Filioque (op. cit. p. 74)!
7. The condemnation of the Roman Catholic Eighth Council (the anti-Photian Council of Constantinople of 869/70) by Pope John VIII is first given in this Pope's Letter to the Emperors Basil, Leo and Alexander. In this Letter which was read at the second session of the Photian Council of Constantinople of 879/80 and is included in the second Act of the Minutes, Pope John VIII writes: "And first of all receive Photios the most amazing and most reverend High-Priest of God our Brother Patriarch and co-celebrant who is co-sharer, co-participant and inheritor of the communion which is in the Holy Church of the Romans... receive the man unpretentiously. No one should behave pretentiously [following] the unjust councils which were made against him. No one. as it seems right to many who behave like a herd of cows, should use the negative votes of the blessed Hierarchs who preceded us. Nicholas, I mean, and Hadrian as an excuse [to oppose him]; since they did not prove what had been cunningly concocted against him... Everything that was done against him has now ceased and been banished..." (The Latin text is this Ac primum quidem a nobis suscipi Photium praetantissimum ac reverentissimum Dei Pontificem et Patriarcham, in fratrem nostrum et comministrum, eundemque communionis cum sancta Romana ecclesia participem, consortem, et haeredem... Suscipite virum sine aliqua exrusatione. Nemo praetexat eas quae contra ipsum factae sunt innjustas synodos. Nemo, ut plerisque videtur imperitis ac rudibis, decessorum nostrorum beatorum Pontificum, Nicolai inquam, et Hadriani, decreta culpet... Finita sunt enim omnia, repudiata omnia, quae adversus cum gesta sunt, infirma irritaquae reddita... Mansi vol xvii, cls. 400D & 401BC. For the Greek see Dositheos op. cit. p. 281f). 
   
   A similar condemnation is found in Pope John VIII's Letter to Photios where he writes: "As for the Synod that was summoned against your Reverence we have annulled here and have completely banished, and have ejected [it from our archives], because of the other causes and because our blessed predecessor Pope Hadrian did not subscribe to it..." (Latin text: Synodum vero, quae contra tuam reverentiam ibidem est habita, rescidimus, damnavimus omnino, et abjecimus: tum ob alias causas, tum quo decessor noster beatus Papa Hadrianus in ea non subscripsit..." Mansi vol. xvii cl. 416E. For the Greek see Dositheos op. cit.p. 292). 
   
   Finally in Pope John VIII's Commonitorium or Mandatum ch. 10, which was read by the papal legates at the third Session of the same Council, we find the following: "We [Pope John VIII] wish that it is declared before the Synod, that the Synod which took place against the aforementioned Patriarch Photios at the time of Hadrian, the Most holy Pope in Rome, and [the Synod] in Constantinople [869/70] should be ostracized from this present moment and be regarded as annulled and groundless, and should not be co-enumerated with any other holy Synods." The minutes at this point add: "The Holy Synod responded: We have denounced this by our actions and we eject it from the archives and anathematize the so-called [Eighth] Synod, being united to Photios our Most Holy Patriarch. We also anathematize those who fail to eject what was written or said against him by the aforementioned by yourselves, the so-called [Eighth] Synod." (Latin text: Caput 10. Volumus coram praesente synodo pomulgari ut synodus quae facta est contra praedictum patriarcham Photium sub Hadriano sanctissimo Papa in urbe Roma et Constantinopoli ex nunc sit rejecta, irrita, et sine robore; neque connumeretur cum altera sancta synodo. Sancta Synodus respondit: Nos rebus ispsis condemnavimus et abjecimus et anathematizavimus dictam a vobis synodum, uniti Photio sanctissimo nostro Patriarchae: et eos qui non rejiciunt scripta dictave nostra cum in hac dicta a vobis synodo, anathematizamus. Mansi vol. xvii, cl. 472AB. See also cls. 489/490E which repeats these points as accepted by the Synod. See also Dositheos op. cit. p. 345 and p. 361). I have included these texts here because I repeatedly encounter comments in the works of Western scholars, especially Roman Catholics, who offer confusing and even disputed information about the unanimous Eastern and Western condemnation of the anti-Photian Council of 869/870.
8. A Successful Council of Union: a theological analysis of the Photian Synod of 879-880, Thessalonica 1975, p.71.
9. Mansi, op. cit., cl. 365.
10. The Photian Schism, History and Legend, Cambridge 1948, repr. 1970.
11. op. cit.
12. cf. his Ἐκκλησιαστικὴ Ἱστορία, τομ. Β´ Ἀπὸ τὴν Εἰκονομαχία μέχρι τὴ Μεταρρύθμιση, Ἀθῆναι 1994, σσ. 92-141.
13. Τόμος Χαρᾶς, op. cit. pp. 9-148.
14. From Dr. Marshall's paper "Brief Observations on the Council of 879-880 and the Filioque" which was presented to the Lutheran-Orthodox Dialogue at St. Olaf's College in February 21-24 1996.
15. Cf. his book Photius and the Carolingians: The Trinitarian Controversy, Nordland Publishing Co, Belmont MA 1974.
16. See here the brief but informative essay of Despina Stratoudaki-White, "Saint Photios and the Filioque Controversy," in the Patristic and Byzantine Review, vol. 2:2-3 (1983), pp. 246-250. St. Photios first wrote on the problem of the Filioque in 864 in his Letter to Boris-Michael of the Bulgarians [PG 102:628-692. Critical edition by B. Laourdas & L. C. Westerink Photius Epistulae et Amphilochia, BSB B. G. Teubner Verlagsgesellschaft 1983, pp. 2-39. For an English translation see Despina Stratoudaki-White and Joseph R. Berrigan Jr., The Patriarch and the Prince, Holy Cross Orthodox Press, Brookline Mass 1982]. He also dealt with it in his famous Encyclical Letter to the Eastern Patriarchs in 867 [PG 102:721-741 and Laourdas-Westerink, op. cit., pp. 40-53.]. Then again, he wrote on it to the Metropolitan of Aquileia in 883 [PG 102:793-821] and finally in his great treatise, the Mystagogy which he wrote in 885 [PG 102:263-392]. For a full bibliography on Photian studies including those relating to the Filioquecontroversy see my exhaustive bibliography in the Athens reprint of Migne's PG 101, pp. ρκα´ - σλζ´.
17. For the Text of this Letter, which was written in response to a Letter that was written to him by his addressee in 882, see footnote 16 above and also, I. Valettas, Φωτίου Ἐπιστολαί, London 1864, pp. 165-81. For an English translation of it see Despina Stratoudaki-White, "The Letter of St. Photios to the Metropolitan of Aquileia," Journal of Modern Hellenism, 6 (1989) 191-206.
18. This most famous of St. Photios' texts dealing with the problem of the Filioque was written only 4 years after the eighth Ecumenical Council, a fact indicating that the issue was still looming great in the relations of East and West at that time. For the Greek text, apart from that published in PG 102 (see footnote 16 above), see also On the Mystagogy of the Holy Spirit by Saint Photius Patriarch of Constantinople, translated by the Holy Transfiguration Monastery, Studion Publishers Inc. 1983, which gives the Greek text with an English translation on opposite pages (Translator: Ronald Wertz). Another English translation with a useful introduction is that of Joseph P. Farrell, The Mystagogy of the Holy Spirit, Holy Cross Press, Brookline MA 1987.
19. op. cit. p. 181.
20. op. cit. p. 183.
21. op. cit. p. 184.
22. op. cit. p. 185.
23. op. cit. p. 48.
24. op. cit. p. 83.
25. cf. op. cit. p. 133f.
26. The text used for this translation is that of Dositheos, as reedited with corrections by Siamakis. Mansi's edition was also consulted.
27. Siamakis, op. cit. pp. 379f. and Mansi, op. cit. pp. 516f.
28. Siamakis, op. cit. pp. 381 and Mansi, op. cit. pp. 517.
29. This remark is based on a recent exchange of letters between Professor Chadwick and myself.

Source: http://web.archive.org/web/20091018231616/http://geocities.com/trvalentine/orthodox/dragas_eighth.html

Few teachings of the Christian faith are as easily misunderstood and equally misapplied as the things pertaining to the “End of the World.” Christian history, both East and West, offers numerous examples of popular misunderstandings – some of which led to bloodbaths and the worst moments in Church history.

By the same token, apocalypticism, the belief in an end of history, has had a powerful impact on the cultures in which Christianity has dwelt. Various Utopias (Marxism, Nazism, Sectarian Millenarianism, etc.) are all products of a misunderstood Christian idea. They are not the inventions of Christianity – but they could hardly have originated in any other culture. The same can be said for various Dystopias (the belief in very difficult and hard times). The imagery of the end of the world can be read both ways. In either case, the worst outcomes generally are found in groups who not only believe in one form of apocalypticism or another, but believe that their own actions can have a direct effect on the advent of the end.

Any number of apocalyptic sects have sprung up from within various Christian heresies over the centuries, many of them on American soil, a land whose first European settlers had a decidedly apocalyptic view of the world. Even Islam, sometimes described by the Orthodox fathers as a “heresy” rather than a “new religion,” has its apocalyptic element, particularly within its extreme groups.

So what is the nature of false apocalypticism and the Orthodox understanding of the End? To a large extent the primary element of false apocalypticism is rooted in a linear view of history in which everything is read in a literal manner. Linear time allows for only a succession of moments, whose cause is to be found in the moment before. God may intervene in this linear procession but the linear nature of things is not changed. We can say that in this model history can be changed, but not the nature and experience of time.

Such linearity and literalism can often reduce its devotees to caricatures of Jerry Fletcher, the near psychotic lead role in the film Conspiracy Theory (1997). He carefully read an armload of daily newspapers, looking for patterns, finding connections where none existed (but also accidentally finding some for the sake of the movie’s plot). The End, as understood in Orthodox theology, is not a cosmic conspiracy theory being wrought within the linear time-line of human history. Our newspapers do not contain hints and hidden clues to its appearance. Indeed, the entire linear conception of life and time are a failure to understand the Lord’s Pascha and what has come to pass in the Resurrection of Christ.

The language of Scripture, both in the course of Christ’s ministry and particularly in the descriptions of the disciples’ encounters with him after the resurrection, is quite peculiar, especially its treatment of time. Most Christians are familiar with Christ’s statement:

Your father Abraham rejoiced to see My day, and he saw it and was glad.”  Then the Jews said to Him, “You are not yet fifty years old, and have You seen Abraham?”  Jesus said to them, “Most assuredly, I say to you, before Abraham was, I AM.” (John 8:56-58).

Obviously the text makes reference to the pre-existing Son of God – but the statements of Christ utterly destroy the normal sense of time. His statements are more than a mere mind-game being played by Christ – they are a revelation of the “distortion” (perhaps reconfiguration) and fulfillment of time. Christ, inSt. John’sRevelation, says, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the First and the Last” (Rev. 22:13). This statement, a clear proclamation of Christ’s divinity, is made purely in temporal terms – but in each of the three cases, temporal terms that are normally contradictory. The temporality of Christ cannot be stated in purely linear terms.

St. Johnagain leaves temporality behind in the proclamation: “All who dwell on the earth will worship him, whose names have not been written in the Book of Life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world” (Rev. 13:8). Christ is most surely slain on the Cross within history, and yet St. Johnidentifies that Christ with the Lamb “slain from the foundation of the world.” Christ’s Pascha is both “historical” and yet cosmic, transcending time.

This same transcendence of history and time is an inherent part of the Orthodox understanding of worship (and ultimately of all our life). We begin the Divine Liturgy with the words, “Blessed is the Kingdom…” The priest doesn’t say, “Blessed is Thy Kingdom which is to come…” He blesses the Kingdom which is, for when we give thanks to God, we stand within His Kingdom. In the course of the liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, the priest prays and gives thanks in the past tense for the glorious second coming of Christ. What can such language mean?

It means that having been Baptized with Christ into His death and raised in the likeness of His resurrection, time has shifted from the time of this age, and now participates in the time of the age to come. We stand with the Alpha and the Omega: the Beginning and the End dwells in our hearts.

Many have rejected the Beginning and the End in favor of a “linear Christ,” either lost in their search for the “historical Jesus,” or furiously scouring their Bibles and newspapers for signs of the linear approach of a time-bound Christ. Such a Christ reduces Christianity to theories and moralisms. The linear Christ does not and cannot save. That which is bound within time is bound within death. He who has trampled down death by death, has also trampled down time by time and “brought us up to His kingdom which is to come.”

With such a transformation in our lives, we can cease to live as prisoners in our own age awaiting the return of an exiled Lord. God is with us and makes us to be with Him.

This article can be found at a July 30, 2011 post on Fr. Stephen Freeman’s Blog:  http://fatherstephen.wordpress.com/page/2/

 This article is posted here with the direct permission of Fr. Stephen Freeman.

http://www.pemptousia.com/2012/03/apocalypse-now/

  Hieromonk Ambrose

Prayer of St. Columban of Iona

“Kindle in our hearts, O God,

The flame of that love which never ceases,

That it may burn in us, giving light to others.

May we shine forever in Thy holy temple,

Set on fire with Thy eternal light,

Even Thy son, Jesus Christ,

Our Savior and Redeemer.”

Eileach An Naoimh (Little Isle of The Saints, aka The Saint’s Mill Race), Garvellach Isles
Early monastic site associated with Saint Brendan the Navigator

With the imagery of fire and light contained in this wonderful prayer I want to move immediately to a recorded incident in the life of St. Columban, a description which shows how he himself personally experienced this “light” – which of course Orthodox Christians recognize as a vision of the Uncreated Light spoken of in Scripture and in the Holy Fathers. Here is the account:

“One winter’s night a monk named Virgnous, burning with the love of God, entered the church alone to pray. The others were asleep. He prayed fervently in a little side chamber attached to the walls of the oratory. After about an hour, the venerable Columban entered the same sacred house. Along with him, at the same time, a golden light came down from the highest heavens and filled that part of the church. Even the separate alcove, where Virgnous was attempting to hide himself as much as he could, was also filled, to his great alarm, with some of the brilliance of that heavenly light. As no one can look directly at or gaze with steady eye on the summer sun in its midday splendor, so Virgnous could not at all bear the heavenly brightness he saw because the brilliant and unspeakable radiance overpowered his sight. This brother, in fact, was so terrified by the splendor, almost as dreadful as lightning, that no strength remained in him. Finally, after a short prayer, St. Columban left the church. The next day he sent for Virgnous, who was very much alarmed, and spoke to him these consoling words: ‘You are crying to good purpose, my child, for last night you were very pleasing in the sight of God by keeping your eyes fixed on the ground when you were overwhelmed with fear at the brightness. If you had not done that, son, the bright light would have blinded your eyes. You must never, however, disclose this great manifestation of light while I live.’” It’s no wonder, then, that ancient writers said that, on the faces of Celtic monks who had advanced in spiritual life, there rested the glow of caeleste lumen, heavenly light.”

In the life of St. Adomnan we read about the following incident:

“At another time when the holy man was living in the island of Hinba, the Grace of the Holy Spirit was poured out upon him abundantly and in an incomparable manner, and continued marvelously for the space of three days, so that for three days and as many nights, remaining with a house barred, and filled with heavenly light, he allowed no one to go to him, and he neither ate nor drank. From that house streams of immeasurable brightness were visible in the night, escaping through chinks of the door leaves, and through the key-holes. And spiritual songs, unheard before, were heard being sung by him. Moreover, as he afterwards admitted in the presence of a very few men, he saw, openly revealed, many of the secret things that have been hidden since before the world began. Also everything that in the Sacred Scriptures is dark and most difficult became plain, and was shown more clearly than the day to the eyes of his purest heart. And he lamented that his foster-son Baithene was not there, who if he had chance to be present during those three days, would have written down from the mouth of the blessed man very many mysteries, both of past ages and of ages still to come, mysteries unknown to other men…”

(Fr. Gorazd Vorpatrny, “Celts and Orthodoxy, “http://www.orthodoxireland.com /history/celtsandorthodoxy/view )

In the Introduction to his translation of the Vita Patrum: The Life of the Fathers, the Righteous Fr. Seraphim of Platina wrote appreciatively about the Orthodox saints of the pre-schism West in Gaul, but of course he could have been writing about the Celtic saints of the British Isles from exactly the same period of time.

“A touchstone of true Orthodoxy,” Fr. Seraphim wrote, “is the love for Christ’s saints. From the earliest Christian centuries the Church has celebrated her saints-first the Apostles and martyrs who died for Christ, then the desert-dwellers who crucified themselves for the love of Christ, and the hierarchs and shepherds who gave their lives for the salvation of their flocks.

From the beginning the Church has treasured the written Lives of these her saints and has celebrated their memory in her Divine services. These two sources -the Lives and services- are extremely important to us today for the preservation of the authentic Orthodox tradition of faith and piety. The false ‘enlightenment’ of our modern age is so all-pervasive that it draws many Orthodox Christians into its puffed up ‘wisdom,’ and without their even knowing it they are taken away from the true spirit of Orthodox and left only with the shell of Orthodox rites, formulas, and customs….To have a seminary education, even to have the ‘right views’ about Orthodox history and theology-is not enough. A typical modern ‘Orthodox’ education produces, more often than not, merely Orthodox rationalists capable of debating intellectual positions with Catholic and Protestant rationalists, but lacking the true spirit and feeling of Orthodoxy. This spirit and feeling are communicated most effectively in the Lives of saints and in similar sources which speak less of the outward side of correct dogma and rite than of the essential inward side of proper Orthodox attitude, spirit, piety.”

With this principle in mind-that the lives of the saints are of critical importance if we are to understand and pass on true Orthodox Christianity to the next generation-I want to continue by defining two important terms: “Celtic” (or “Celt”) and “spirituality.”

It may come as a surprise to learn that the Celts actually never called themselves “Celts.” This word comes from the Greek Keltos, and means something like “the other” or “a stranger.” The Greeks also called these people Keltoi, which was a word the Celts did adopt because it means “the hidden ones” or the “hidden people.” In fact, the Old Irish word ceilid means “to hide or conceal.” So these people were called “Celts” by those who came into contact with them and saw them as being quite different than other tribes and peoples. And they were. In their long, pre­Christian period they were a ferocious war-loving lot who fought just for the sheer joy of fighting. “One Roman writer described Celtic men as ‘terrible from the sternness of their eyes, very quarrelsome, and of great pride and insolence’. Nor, to his dismay, did these qualities stop with the men. ‘A whole troop of foreigners [he wrote] would not be able to withstand a single one if he called to his assistance his wife, who is usually very strong.’ The Greek historian Strabo was more blunt in his assessment. ‘The whole race,’ he concluded, ‘is war mad.’”

(No author given; Heroes of the Dawn: Celtic Myth)

Christianity softened all of this, but Celtic Christians did not lose their fierceness which, under the influence of Christ, no longer expressed itself in a lust for war, but now was channelled into Christianity as a way of life – and this they pursued with a singlemindedness rarely seen elsewhere. “Monasticism appeared attractive to a warrior people who were drawn to an ascetic lifestyle.   It appealed to a marginalized people who saw the monk as one who lived on the edge of things, on the very margins of life.” (Timothy Joyce, Celtic Christianity)We see this in the lives of monks like St. Cuthbert and St. Guthlac, who “were uncompromising solitaries and their ascetic practices aroused wonder…To go all-out for something” is a distinctive mark of Celtic Christians. (Benedicta Ward, High King of Heaven) Another example is in the life of St. Columban who, we are told, “leaped over his mother’s grieving body, which was draped across her threshold, in order to head for a monastery.”

(Lisa M. Bitel, “Ascetic Superstars,” www.christianitytoday.com/ch/60h/60h022.html).

It is perhaps not surprising then, to learn that the brave stories of the valiant and heroic King Arthur (who was an actual person) originated among the Celts and were only later picked up and modified and expanded by medieval troubadours and scribes elsewhere in Europe. These included tales of the Round Table and the noble Quest for the Holy Grail, as well as accounts of Arthur’s spiritual father, Merlin (who, by the way, was most probably a Celtic bishop named Ambrosius Merlinus, after St. Ambrose of Milan, and not a Druid priest, as used to be thought).

As an aside, may I say that Celtic hermit life “was no walk through a nature reserve or stay at a holiday camp. The hermit had deliberately chosen to live at the limits of existence, a human person containing both heaven and earth.”(Ward, op.cit.) Speaking of his own hermit days, St. Cuthbert testified that the demons constantly “cast me down headlong from my high rock; how many times have they hurled stones at me as if to kill me. But though they sought to frighten me away by one phantasmal temptation or another, and attempted to drive me from this place of combat, nevertheless they were unable in any way to mar my body by injury or my mind by fear.” (Quoted in Ward, Ibid.)

This account is amazingly close to the temptations suffered by St. Antony the Great in the Egyptian desert. But this is not surprising, because their Christianity – which is to say, their monastic life – was primarily influenced by and formed by the Christian monasticism of the Egyptian desert, and only incidentally from the continent of Europe. This means that Celtic Christians were more like the Byzantine or Slavic Orthodox Christians than Latin or Northern European Christians.

Early this last summer I had an appointment with a new diabetic specialist. Dr. Jennings was very intrigued and pleased to meet “a real live monk”, “But,” he said, “you don’t look like a monk.” I said, “What do you mean, I don’t ‘look like a monk’? I have a beard and wear a black habit.” He replied, “Well, you have to realize, Father, that my only images of monks have been formed by television commercials-where the monks are all wearing brown robes, are clean-shaven, have a bald spot in the center of their heads, and are advertising either ‘Beano’ or  computers.” I’m afraid this really is the popular image of monks in our culture, today. Most of these images are based upon stereotypical ideas drawn from medieval Western monasticism and applied to both Celtic and Orthodox Christian monastics: it’s assumed that we all look like Francis of Assisi, and live in great stone monasteries with cloisters. But this is not an accurate image of Celtic.  Rather, Celtic monastic communities were more a relatively modest ‘monastic village’ than a huge complex of buildings. The village had a stone wall around it to keep animals in and thieves out. Within the walls were many small huts, whether wooden buildings or crude structures of mud and wattle. Later, especially in the west of Ireland, stone buildings were erected. Remains of many “stone clochans, called ‘beehive huts’ in English, are scattered over the countryside….There is no indication that any large church buildings were ever built….” (Timothy Joyce, Celtic Christianity)

Religion / Orthodoxy in West    Hieromonk Ambrose

“Other monks and nuns lived out their days alone….in small wood-and-mud huts; they kept a cow or two, and accepted gladly the gifts of an occasional loaf or basket of vegetables from local farmers. The desire for a solitary life and time to spend simply yearning for God…must have drifted through the hearts of even the busiest abbot in the most bustling monastery.” (Bitel, op.cit.)

Monastic life was seen as an absolutely essential part of Christian life-the norm for all Christian life, not the exception-, and monks and nuns, hermits and hermitesses were the great heroes of the common people, who saw them, as St. Guthlac put it, as “tried warriors who serve a king who never withholds the reward from those who persist in loving Him.” (Quoted in Bitel, Ibid.) Indeed, it is this quality of persistent, even stubborn heroism that particularly stamps the character of Celtic Christianity and, particularly, monastic life – for these were a people whose heroes were monks and nuns, not political leaders or other cultural figures.

St. John Cassian, who is still carefully read and studied by Eastern Orthodox monastics today, was well known to Celtic monks. St. John had spent years as a monk in Bethlehem and Egypt-and recorded his conversations with the Egyptian Fathers–later establishing a monastery near present-day Marseilles, France. The Life of the Egyptian Father, St. Anthony the Great was translated into Latin around the year 380, and we know that this was studied by Celtic monks, who depicted St. Anthony and St. Paul of Thebes on some of the great Irish “High Crosses” (about which I’ll say more, shortly).

There is speculation that Iona was a sacred island to the Iron Age inhabitants before the 500s. This is just speculation with no evidence, but it is offered as a possible reason for Columba’s settling here.
Saint Columba, or Golm Cille as he would have called himself in Gaelic, was exiled from his native Ireland in 563. He founded a monastery on Iona, along with twelve companions.

There was phenomenal literacy and very high culture among these monks. In addition, they also learned from the monks of the Egyptian desert how to practice daily “Confession of Thoughts.” Their monastic clothing was primarily made from animal skins, so that in appearance they actually resembled St. John the Baptist out in the wilderness – a far cry from the monastics of Europe in their sometimes rather elaborate woven cloth habits.

Now we come to the interesting part: There are records of any number of Christians traveling to the Desert Fathers from the British Isles, and an old Celtic litany of the saints mentions seven Egyptian monks who came to Ireland and died and were buried there. Scholars believe that most of the contact between Ireland and Egypt occurred before the year 640. On an ancient stone near a church in County Cork, Ireland, there is the following inscription: “Pray for Olan, the Egyptian. Also interesting is the fact that even though there are no deserts in the British Isles, the Celts called their monastic communities diserts or “deserts.” This was particularly true of island monasteries or hermitages -those spiritual fortresses– , where the sea itself was like a desert, as an ancient poet said of St. Columban’s island hermitage:

“Delightful I think it to be in the bosom of an isle on the peak of a rock, that I might often see there the calm of the sea…That I might see its heavy waves over the glittering ocean as they chant a melody to their Father on their eternal course.”

We have a wonderful description of a visit to the monks of Egypt near the close of the fourth century, written by Rufinus of Aquileia. He wrote: “When we came near, they realized that foreign monks were approaching, and at once they swarmed out of their cells like bees. They joyfully hurried to meet us.” Rufinus was particularly struck by the solitude and stillness of life among these monks. “This is the utter desert,” he observed, “where each monk lives alone in his cell….There is a huge silence and a great peace there.” (Quoted in Celtic Saints, Passionate Wanderers, by Elizabeth Rees)

St. David of Wales lived in the 6th century. He came from a monastery which had been founded by a disciple of St. John Cassian. So great is St. David that he deserves a whole lecture to himself, but today I’ll just mention him in connection with the wisdom of the Egyptian desert: he possessed the gift of tears, spoke alone with angels, subdued his flesh by plunging himself into ice cold water while reciting all of the Psalms by heart, and spent the day making prostrations and praying. “He also fed a multitude of orphans, wards, widows, needy, sick, feeble, and pilgrims.” (Edward C. Sellner, Wisdom of the Celtic Saints)The Roman Catholic scholar, Edward Sellner, adds: ” Thus he began; thus he continued; thus he ended his day. He imitated the monks of Egypt and lived a life like theirs.” (Ibid.) The same writer assures us that “because of its [the Celtic Church's] love of the desert fathers and mothers, it has a great affinity with the spirituality of the Eastern Orthodox [today].”

There are many other evidences of Eastern and Egyptian contact and influence, too numerous to list now. But in his interesting study, The Egyptian Desert in the Irish Bogs, Fr. Gregory Telepneff mentions also the fascinating interlacing knots and complex designs found on the famous standing High Crosses, which show Egyptian or Coptic influence. “Celtic manuscripts show similarities to the Egyptian use of birds, eagles, lions, and calves….In the Celtic Book of Durrow, one can find not only a utilization of the colors green, yellow, and red, similar to Egyptian usage, but also ‘gems with a double cross outline against tightly knotted interlacings,’ which recall the ‘beginnings of Coptic books.’ [Henry, Irish Art]. There is at least one instance of the leather satchel of an Irish missal and the leather satchel of an Ethiopian manuscript of about the same period which “resemble each other so closely that they might be thought to have come from the same workshop’ [Warren, Liturgy].” (Telpneff)

Culturally, then, I suggest that Celtic culture was a unique and intriguing blend of Egyptian and other Middle Eastern influences with native or indigenous cultural elements.

Before going further I want to say a few words about the term “spirituality.” In our time this has become a wastebasket word into which we put whatever we want the word to mean. Our English word, “spirituality”, comes from the French, and originally described someone who was clever, witty, or perhaps even mad! But our ancient Christian ancestors, whether from Russia, Europe, the Middle East, or the lands of the Celts, did not have such a concept. Certainly they did not see spiritual life as something separate from the rest of life. For them, spirituality was how they lived, how they prayed, how they worshiped God-and it was all bound up together, not separated out. Today, however, we have managed to artificially compartmentalize ourselves and our lives, making “spirituality” something that we do in addition to or separate from regular life. This has made possible a very artificial approach to the Celts.

Thomas O”Loughlin, one of the best of our present-day writers on the subject of Celtic Christianity, makes the following sage observation in his book, Journeys on the Edges:

“In the last decade interest in the attitudes and beliefs of the Christians of the Celtic lands in the first millennium has swollen from being a specialist pursuit among medievalists and historians of theology into what is virtually a popular movement. In the process more than a few books have appeared claiming to uncover the soul of this Celtic Christianity in all its beauty….[Many writers] operate by offering their own definitions of ‘Christianity’ past and present, and then setting these against their definition of ‘Celt’ or ‘Celtic’. In this way they can reach the conclusion they want.”

Typical of our modern arrogance and intellectual-spiritual poverty, we project our own feeble ideas back onto a more robust and spiritually rich time, treating the world of Celtic Christianity like a smorgasbord, where we take those things we happen to already “like,” and put them together to form our own very distorted and sometimes even perverted “version” of the Celts. An example: It is a fact that in the early Christian centuries, Ireland, Scotland and parts of Wales were never subject to Roman rule-neither the old Roman Empire nor the Church of Rome held sway over “Celts.” But some modern writers interpret this to mean that Celtic Christians, since they were “non-Roman,” were therefore anti-Roman or even anti-authority and against the idea of an organized, patriarchal Church. There is absolutely no evidence for such a conclusion, although in fact Celtic Christians did have a quite different way of organizing communities than did Christians on the continent-but this was not out of rebellion, but because their own models were from Egypt and the East, not from Europe! The simple fact is that “the Irish church had always been at the edges of Roman Christianity, [and considered to be a] a barbarian church of limited interest to the Popes.” (Paul Cavill, Anglo-Saxon Christianity: Exploring the Earliest Roots of Christian Spirituality in England) ”Although the climate and situation of Britain were very different from the hot deserts of Egypt, there were principles-simplicity, prayer, fasting, spiritual warfare, wisdom, and evangelism-that were easy to translate to the communities of these isles.”(Michael Mitton, The Soul of Celtic Spirituality in the Lives of Its Saints) But this means that entering into the spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical world of a Celtic Christian monk is difficult-not impossible, but difficult.

First we must realize that the Celts had no concept of privacy or individuality such as we have today. Families did not live in separate rooms, but all together; no one thought about the idea of “compartmentalizing space” and only hermits and anchorites felt a calling to be alone in spiritual solitude with God, although monks had separate cells, just as monastics did in the Egyptian Thebaid. The idea that people are separate individuals from the group was not only unheard-of, but would have been considered dangerous, even heretical. Self-absorption, “moods,” and being temperamental-all of these things would have been considered abnormal and sinful. It wasn’t until the 13th and 14th centuries that people in the West started keeping journals or diaries, and there were no memoirs-also signs of individuality and privacy, of singling oneself out from the family, group, or community-nor were there actual real-life portraits of individuals, until the 14th century. (The art of realistic portraiture developed in response to the medieval idea of romance-for an accurate portrait was a substitute for an absent husband or wife.)

Furthermore, “‘the dominant institution of Celtic Christianity was neither the parish church nor the cathedral, but the monastery, which sometimes began as a solitary hermit’s cell and often grew to become a combination of commune, retreat house, mission station…school [and, in general] a source not just of spiritual energy but also of hospitality, learning, and cultural enlightenment.”(Ian Bradley, quoted in Mitten, Ibid.) It was only much later that people began to be gathered into separate parishes, and even later before bishops had dioceses that were based on geographical lines rather than just being the shepherd of a given tribe or group, “being bishops of a community, rather than ruling areas of land. The idea of ‘ruling a diocese’ was quite foreign to the Celtic way of thinking.” (Ibid.)

If you think about what all of this means in terms of how we today view ourselves, the world in which we live, and the values that we have today, you can see how difficult it’s going to be for us to enter into the world of the Celts. Today we are quite obsessive about such things as privacy and individuality, of “being our own selves” and “getting in touch with the inner man” and other such self-centered nonsense. But the Celtic Christian understood, just as did and do Eastern Christians, that man is saved in community; if he goes to hell, he goes alone.

So the orientation of those Christian Celts to God and the other world was very different than the orientation of our modern world, no matter how devout or pious we may be, and this makes the distance between us and the world of Celtic monasticism far greater than just the span of the centuries. A renowned scholar, Sir Samuel Dill, writing generally about Christians in the West at this same period of time, said: “The dim religious life of the early Middle Ages is severed from the modern mind by so wide a gulf, by such a revolution of beliefs that the most cultivated sympathy can only hope to revive in faint imagination ….[for it was] a world of…fervent belief which no modern man can ever fully enter into….It is intensely interesting, even fascinating…[but] between us and the early Middle Ages there is a gulf which the most supple and agile imagination can hardly hope to pass. He who has pondered most deeply over the popular faith of that time will feel most deeply how impossible it is to pierce its secret.” (Quoted in “Vita Patrum”, Fr. Seraphim Rose)

But is it really “impossible”? To enter their world-the world of Celtic Christianity, which is the same as Celtic monasticism–we must find a way to see things as they did-not as we do today-; to hear, taste, touch, pray, and think as they did. And this is what I mean by the word “spirituality”-a whole world-view. We must examine them in the full context of their actual world-which was a world of Faith, and not just any Faith, but the Christian Faith of Christians in both the Eastern and Western halves of Christendom in the first thousand years after Christ. Spirituality is living, dogmatic, theology. This is the only way we can begin to understand how Celtic Monasticism can be a model of sanctity for us living today, more than a millennium after their world ceased to be. Remember, I said it would be difficult to enter their world; difficult, but not impossible… When we speak of someone or something being a “model,” what do we mean? In this instance-speaking about Celtic monasticism as a “model”-we mean something that is a standard of excellence to be imitated. But here I’m not speaking of copying external things about Celtic monasteries-such as architecture, style of chant, monastic habit, etc., which are, after all cultural “accidents.” I’m speaking of something inward, of an inner state of being and awareness. It’s only in this sense that Celtic monasticism can be, for those who wish it, a “model of sanctity.”

But what do I mean by “sanctity”? We must be careful not to slip into some kind of vague, New Age warm “fuzzies” which are more gnostic than Christian and have more to do with being a “nice” person than encountering the Living God in this life. By sanctity I mean what the Church herself means: holiness—which is nothing more or less than imitation of Christ in the virtues, and striving to die to oneself through humility, so as to be more and more alive to Christ, successfully cutting off one’s own will in order to have, only the will of Christ, as St. Paul says in his epistle to the Galatians (2:20): “I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me… ” So, holiness means dying to oneself and especially to one’s passions, more and more, so as draw closer and closer to the Lord God Himself, through Jesus Christ, and Him crucified and risen. In addition, Celtic Christians had the concept of “hallowing” or “hallowed”-an old fashioned term that today has survived only in the unfortunate pagan holiday called “Halloween” (from “All Hallows Eve”-which began as the vigil for the Western Feast of All Souls Day and later took on vile pagan overtones). To early British Christians, something or someone that was “hallowed” was “set apart” from others and sanctified for service to God. Thus, a priest’s ordination or a monastic’s tonsuring was his “hallowing.”

   Nikolaos Oikonomidιs

The earliest evidence for the existence of a significant number of monks on the Holy Mountain comes from the middle of the 9th century. To begin with there were solitaries who lived in remote areas of the wild peninsula. At a later time they organised themselves into small groups, and already by 908 they had a central administration which was represented by the ‘first solitary’, that is, the ‘Protos’, as the elected leader of the Athonites was subsequently named*.

 During this initial stage there were no large monasteries and attempts to introduce the coenobitic system were resisted by the hermits. The first large coenobium, the Megiste Lavra, was founded by St Athanasius the Athonite, and was officially recognised by the first typikon* (observance) of the Holy Mountain, the famous Tragus, which was signed by the Emperor John Tsimiskes in 972¹. In the years that followed other coenobia also made their appearance – among them the Monastery of Vatopaidi.

The 'Jasper', according to tradition the gift of the Despot of Thessaloniki Andronicus Palaeologus

With regard to the foundation of the Monastery, two traditions exist². We shall not concern ourselves here with the second; it first appears in the 16th century and ascribes the Monastery’s foundation to Constantine the Great, its destruction to Julian the Apostate (361-363), and its restoration to Theodosius the Great (379-395). We shall confine ourselves to the older tradition, which, although it contains certain inaccuracies, comes very much closer to the historical truth. According to this tradition, three noblemen from Adrianople, Athanasius, Nicholas and Antony, came to the Holy Mountain while the Megiste Lavra was being built³ and, in obedience to the promptings of St Athanasius the Athonite, ‘re-founded’ Vatopaidi. It would appear that these three individuals were historical persons. When the Monastery is mentioned for the first time in 985, the name of the Abbot was indeed Nicholas⁴. One of his extremely active successors, named Athanasius, is known from evidence which dates from between 1020 and 1048.  In 1142 there is a reference to another Abbot of the name Antony⁵.

Conclusion: the Monastery was founded before 985, probably by Nicholas, who was from Adrianople and who, from the outset, was acquainted with St Athanasius of the Lavra. The fact that the signature of this Nicholas does not appear in the Tragus of Tsimiskes permits us to assume – and only to assume – that the Monastery had not been founded by 972⁶. We do not know whether there was, at an earlier time, another hermitage or even the ruins of ancient buildings on its site. It seems that the subsequent Abbots, Athanasius and Antony, gained considerable benefits for the Monastery, and for this reason they were also considered as founders.

The importance of a monastery on the Holy Mountain is made evident by its place in the hierarchy. From the beginning, the Megiste Lavra of St Athanasius obtained and retained a primacy among the Athonite foundations. Vatopaidi began humbly. In 985, Abbot Nicholas is the last to sign after all the other monastic delegates to the Protaton. Presumably, he represented a small establishment which had only recently appeared on the Holy Mountain.

Depiction of the Evangelist Matthew with the beginning of his Gospel, from the parchment lectionary of 1314/1315, a gift of the Emperor Andronicus II Palaeologus. (Cod. 14 of the Sacristy, ff. 17v-18)

The situation, however, changed fairly quickly, undoubtedly because Vatopaidi, where coenobitic monasticism was practised⁷, acquired a large number of monks and expanded rapidly. As early as 1010 it was reckoned along with the Megiste Lavra and the Monastery of Iveron as a foundation able to assimilate other smaller establishments – as one of the ‘great ones’ of the Athonite community⁸. And this increase in its power is reflected in its position in the monastic hierarchy. To begin with, the second founder, Athanasius (1020-1048) signs the documents of the Protaton low on the list. Later, around 1040, he approaches the summit of the Athonite hierarchy, immediately after the representatives of Lavra and Iveron⁹.

The creation of a humble but at the same time dynamic Vatopaidi Monastery was the work of the probable first founder, Nicholas. Its development and its progress to near the top of the Athonite hierarchy was the work of the second founder, Athanasius, also from Adrianople. When in 1045 the Emperor Constantine Monomachus issued the typikon of the Holy Mountain¹⁰, the prominent place of Vatopaidi had definitely been recognised. It was an establishment of large dimensions with a great number of monks and considerable prestige, as it would appear from the following stipulations in the typikon:

The concurring opinion of the Vatopaidi Abbot Athanasius as well as those of the Protos and the Abbots of the Lavra and Iveron is regarded as a necessity and is always noted independently, even in the taking of general regulative decisions, such as, for example, the expulsion of the beardless from the Holy Mountain. Furthermore, the Abbot of Vatopaidi had the right to go to Karyes with four servants, the same number as the Abbot of Iveron – whereas the Lavra’s Abbot had six, and all the other abbots only one each. Unlike any of the other abbots, the great Abbots of the Lavra, Vatopaidi and Iveron, as well as the Protos of the Mountain, had the right to be attended by one of their servants even in the meetings of the Holy Assembly (Hiera Synaxis).

While all the monasteries were forbidden to have large ships, an exception was made for a few large establishments. Some possessed ships because of imperial privilege (Lavra, Iveron); others because of particular needs. The Monastery of the Amalfitans, for example, had a definite need for a ship so that it could communicate with the Amalfitan community in Constantinople and with its homeland in Italy. Also, by an absolute exception, the Monastery of Vatopaidi had need of a ship, presumably because of its large population.

As a well-populated monastery, Vatopaidi also had need of a yoke of oxen so that the bread of the brotherhood could be prepared. At that time, the number of monks must have exceeded a hundred and so their monastery acquired the privilege of having a yoke, while the Lavra, which had 700 fathers, required four yokes for the same purpose. In spite of its seniority and its undoubted wealth, Iveron was most likely smaller, since there was no provision even for a yoke of oxen.

 In the typikon of Monomachus, the Abbot of Vatopaidi is ranked in the hierarchy before the Abbot of Iveron. For the first time, he occupies the position immediately after the Abbot of the Lavra – a position which he was to assume once again in the 14th century.

The rapidly acquired ascendancy of Vatopaidi can be explained by an examination of the origins of the founders and, evidently, of at least some of its earliest monks. Adrianople, the capital of the Byzantine theme (province) of Macedonia, was known as the place of origin and residence of the great aristocratic families of the Balkans. They farmed the fertile lands of the region and lived in relatively close proximity to Constantinople – a circumstance which allowed them to come and go relatively easily from their lands to the Queen of Cities, where they were assured of a large market for the sale of their agricultural produce. The families of Bryennius and Tornicius, who aspired to claim the imperial throne in the 11th century, had Adrianople as their headquarters. The same also held true of the Batatzedes, the Glabades, the Branades, and the Tarchaneiotes, who represented the cream of the aristocracy in the western part of the Empire and whose power would increase when the larger part of Asia Minor fell into the hands of the Turks after 1071¹¹. We can, therefore, connect the creation and the development of the Monastery of Vatopaidi with these circles in Adrianople. They constituted a stable base for the Monastery. We must not forget that the Byzantine landed aristocracy greatly prospered in the 10th century and successfully resisted the attempts of the emperors to impose limitations upon it by means of legislation. The position of the aristocracy was further reinforced in the 11th century when the imperial endeavours proved futile, and especially when its distinguished representatives, the Comneni, seized the throne in 1081. At such a point in history, it was inevitable that Vatopaidi should flourish as well. Thus, it began life as a monastery of noblemen, without having secured even one imperial donation to begin with. But very quickly it rose to great heights, just like the landowning aristocratic families of the time.

An imperial donation, nonetheless, was not slow to come – most probably during the abbacy of Athanasius himself. The Emperor Constantine Monomachus (1042-1055) granted Vatopaidi a solemnion, that is, an annual allowance in cash from the imperial treasury, a sum which Michael VI raised to 80 gold coins. The sum was considerable, but it certainly could not compare with the solemnia of the imperial monasteries, such as those of Iveron and the Lavra. During the same period theirs approached 600. Moreover, the great economic crisis which disrupted 11th-century Byzantium had begun. Isaac Comnenus (1057-1059), as part of a general policy of economies, cut back by half the allowance to Vatopaidi, but one of his successors added a further 32 gold coins, and thus Vatopaidi ended up by receiving one litra, that is, 72 gold coins, annually. Meanwhile, however, Byzantium’s currency had lost two-thirds of its value¹².

At the height of the economic crisis, which was accompanied by a total lack of confidence in the devalued currency, the state, in order to secure some real income, was forced to turn to imposing certain taxes in kind. Most important, land tax, which had formerly constituted the basis of the public economy, entirely lost its importance. At the same time, public finance revenues from extra-ordinary taxes and services, either demanded in kind or converted into pecuniary payments on arbitrary criteria, increased. The farming out of taxes to avaricious private citizens became a common practice.

Vatopaidi, like all the aristocrats of the 11th century, was impelled to seek (after some delay) the protection of the Emperor. In 1080 it secured from Nicephorus Botaniates exemption (excussia) from the extra-ordinary taxes on all of its properties located in Peritheorion, Chrysoupolis, Kassandra, and those close to Thessaloniki, together with the right to install on them 50 tax-exempt peasants (paroikoi). In 1082 the Abbot Sergius Tourkopoulos received more substantial privileges from Alexius Comnenus. He renounced the (devalued) annual solemnion and in its place secured total tax exemption on a number of the Monastery’s properties. In this way the tax farmers were denied the right to visit the land holdings of the Monastery, which thereby were protected from their excessive demands. In the same document, the Monastery’s right to pasture its animals on the Mountain and to maintain its two yoke of oxen for the making of bread – not one yoke, as in 1045: a circumstance which shows that the number of monks must in the meantime have increased significantly – ratified¹³.

From this period Vatopaidi can be seen to be laying claim to some extent to the leading position which was held by the Megiste Lavra. In the document above it is clearly recorded that the privileges relating to the animals would be maintained for as long as similar privileges were also held by the Lavra.

From other sources we learn that Vatopaidi also procured a special privilege, namely, that its Abbot be confirmed by royal command¹⁴. In other words, the Monastery had acquired special access to the palace. At the same time, it kept up its contacts with high society. In 1098, the kouropalatissa Maria Basilacaena left to Vatopaidi in her will two of her icons: a Deisis with silver ornamentation, and a Baptism, as well as several ecclesiastical books¹⁵. And the position of Vatopaidi in the hierarchy at Karyes tended to be establis   hed between two non-Greek monks: after the Georgian representative of Iveron and before the Italian representative of the Amalfitans.

The information that we have on Vatopaidi in the 12th century is very limited by virtue of the fact that the archives of that period which have survived from the entire Mountain are very few in number. We learn that the Monastery had a property at Provlakas (today’s Nea Roda) and that it came into conflict over the boundaries with the inhabitants of Hierissos¹⁶. We are informed of the names of several of its representatives at the Council in Karyes, where they steadily maintained the same hierarchical position, that is, after Iviron.

In the closing years of the century the Serbian monks Symeon and Sabbas first came to Vatopaidi and then restored the Monastery of Chilandari, securing by means of a chrysobull of Alexius III Angelus its independence from Vatopaidi¹⁷.

The Latin conquest of 1204-1205 disrupted life all over the Mountain. The Byzantines, however, soon returned to the area, which was annexed to the Empire of Nicaea. Vatopaidi enhanced its position even further, since it also acquired the title of ‘Imperial Monastery’, attested for the first time in 1287¹⁸. Presumably the acquisition of this title was related to the rise to power of the dynasty of the Palaeologues with Michael VIII, who is known to have depended on the support of the aristocracy. Consequently, it would have been natural for Vatopaidi to have sided with him.

In the same year, 1287, Joseph, the Abbot of Vatopaidi, adds to his signature that he considers his monastery “the first lavra of the Holy Mountain”. However, this description does not recur in the Byzantine era.

The ascription to the Monastery of the title of imperial was never questioned, and this style was constantly repeated. In 1301 the Emperor Andronicus II Palaeologus simply ranks Vatopaidi among the chief and illustrious monasteries of the Mountain¹⁹. Later, however, the Vatopaidinoi were gradually to overtake the Monastery of Iveron in the hierarchy. A first attempt is attested in 1322, but the precedence of Vatopaidi over Iveron becomes established only from 1362 onwards²⁰.

Tradition has it that in 1301 Vatopaidi had lost all its former prosperity, having suffered untold hardships at the hands of pirates of unknown identity, most probably Italians²¹. Furthermore, from another document we learn that Vatopaidi had suffered the forfeiture of a part of its holdings because the state needed money in order to drive out unspecified foreign conquerors from Macedonia. As compensation for these losses, Vatopaidi acquired as a dependency the Monastery of Aghioi Anargyroi* in the vicinity of Philippi²². It seems that these difficulties were probably insignificant and certainly of a temporary nature.

Andronicus II, who donated precious vessels to the Monastery and, it seems, defrayed in part the cost of its beautiful wall-paintings, also issued a chrysobull* in 1301 in which he ratified all Vatopaidi’s possessions: Vatopaidi held a metochi* in Thessaloniki and properties in the region of Serres and Strymon, as well as in Chalcidice (Zavernijkeia, Semelton, Voditsa, Chotolivos, Kali Ammos, Raphalion, Krimota, Aghios Mamas, Siderokafsia, Prosphorion, and many others). As one might have expected of an important 14th-century Athonite monastery, Vatopaidi, in spite of the difficulties that we have referred to, owned a great deal of landed property. And it continued to increase its land holdings without interruption by installing an apiary within the Mountain, claiming lands from the neighbouring monasteries of Verriotou and Esphigmenou, purchasing (?) a new property at Ermilia in Chalcidice (before 1307), renting the fields of Theodora Comnena Senacheirena near Xanthi (1308), and accepting as a gift donated by the nobleman Sarantinos the rich Monastery of St John the Baptist at Petra in Beroea (Veria) (1328-1329)²³. There were impressively large gifts of properties in different parts of Macedonia, especially in Serres and Zichna, as well as on Lemnos, donated by one of the wealthiest women of the period, herself the mother of the subsequent Emperor John Cantecuzenus, Theodora Angelina Cantecuzena, sometime between 1337 and 1341²⁴. Here again, Vatopaidi was seeking the support, not of the Emperor, but of the very high aristocracy, at the head of which was the Cantecuzenus family. It was from this family that other property and treasures owned by Vatopaidi would come, such as the outstanding illustrated manuscripts of the Emperor John VI himself, and the celebrated ‘Jasper’ which belonged to the Despot Manuel Cantecuzenus.

The aristocratic character of the Monastery is also made clear from the position it adopted on the subject of Hesychasm, which at that time divided Byzantine society. This mystical religious practice, which strove for the direct contact of the faithful with the Divine through prayer and ascetical exercises, had in the 14th century become accepted with fanatical fervour by certain monastic circles. However, it also aroused serious opposition in others, chiefly because of certain naive excesses indulged in by various zealots. The aristocrats recognised and supported the Hesychasts but held aloof from their extreme positions. The same was true of the Monastery of Vatopaidi. Many Hesychast leaders who were later recognised as saints, such as Germanus the Athonite (later Abbot of the Lavra), Gregory Palamas, Sabbas, and Macarius Macris, lived and worked miracles at Vatopaidi. But the Monastery did not welcome some of the excesses of the Hesychasts.

During the period of the great civil war, 1341-1347, the whole of Macedonia was overrun by Stefan Dusan’s Serbs. But more important, both Macedonia and Thrace were laid waste by the forays of the Turks who came as allies of the belligerents, chiefly of John Cantecuzenus, and who occupied themselves with looting and the enslavement of the local population, thereby preparing for the final conquest by the Ottomans over the ensuing thirty years. The Abbot of Vatopaidi, Gregory, an acknowledged spiritual figure of the time, who also took part in the synodical tribunal at trials of monks, attempted to reduce as far as possible the consequences of these disruptions. From John VI Cantecuzenus, who eventually emerged as victor of the civil war, he succeeded in obtaining as a gift the Constantinopolitan Monastery of Psychosostria, including its land holdings, to be used as a place of rest and retreat for the Vatopaidi monks who went there²⁵. From Stefan Dusan, who had conquered Macedonia, he succeeded in obtaining the ratification of the properties of Vatopaidi and a guarantee of their protection from the power of the zupans, that is, the Serbian governors of the region. Later, the successors of Dusan, the Tsar Voihna and the Despot John Uglesha, ratified the possession of the old properties and granted new ones. But there were also problems with the Serbs when they confiscated ecclesiastical properties to give to their soldiers²⁶.

But since the situation in Macedonia remained in a state of flux and everyone presumed that the Serbian occupation would one day end, Vatopaidi sought a simple measure of guarantee for the future: it succeeded in obtaining the ratification of all its old properties and privileges from John V Palaeologus in 1356²⁷. In actual fact, however, the Byzantine Emperor ratified the ownership of lands over which he had no effective control during that period.

 In this way the Monastery came to be seen as one of the few institutions that inspired a sense of security in that turbulent era. Increasingly, aristocrats can be seen to have granted or bequeathed to Vatopaidi a part of their fortune, seeking in return that they be accepted as monks, and thereby securing board, lodging and care in their old age. This kind of security was sought by the monk Arsenius Tzamblakon, the former Great Papias*, when in 1355 and 1356 he donated properties at Prinari in Thessaloniki and at the Gallikos. Several of these holdings had been abandoned because of the wars; others were located in Serb-occupied areas. But this problem did not affect the Monastery, which was able to receive revenue from them and which agreed to provide this nobleman-monk each year with four diakonies, that is, four times the amount of food to which an ordinary monk was entitled²⁸. This detail indicates that the principles of idiorrhythmic monasticism had also begun to penetrate the Monastery of Vatopaidi. These permitted a number of monks at least to have a separate apartment and to maintain their own servants.

Many other similar ministrations are known, such as those of the knight Michael Tzamblakon (1370)²⁹. As a further and more striking example we could mention the former Serbo-Byzantine ‘Emperor’ of Thessaly John Uros Palaeologus, who, having now lost his throne because of the Turks, withdrew in 1394 to the Mountain as the monk Ioasaph and puchased five adelphata from Vatopaidi³⁰.

The granting of adelphata, that is, an agreement between the monastery and an individual which secured for the latter, usually against a payment of 100 hyperpyra*, an annual allowance in kind (certain amounts of wheat, oil, wine, and pulses, which corresponded to a portion for a ‘brother’ – adelphos – of the Monastery) for the remainder of his life, now became normal policy, even when the recipient did not become a monk of the Monastery but continued to live as a layman³¹. It is clear that the Monastery, by virtue of the assurances which it succeeded in securing from the Byzantines, Serbs, and Ottoman Turks, enjoyed ‘credit’. Consequently it guaranteed a kind of ‘old age pension’ for anyone who had the means to purchase it in cash or with a piece of land. It received payment in cash and gave from the surplus of its agricultural produce. In order for this system to operate, the chief requirement was that the Monastery should always be reliable in meeting its obligations. And Vatopaidi was highly successful in this kind of transaction.

One other aspect of the economic role of the Monastery was that many rich men deposited with it large sums of money and valuable jewels for safekeeping. Others sought refuge in the Monastery as monks to protect themselves from the powerful of the day – and in these instances we see that those who were powerful did not dare to approach the Monastery itself, but attempted to exert pressure by harrassing its non-Athonite possessions. This is precisely what happened in the case of the Great Domesticus* of Serbia Raul, who took the Monastery’s animals by force from properties in Serres in order to extort the settlement of a monk’s debt³².

Thus with the numerous upheavals, there was an increase in the donations of the Emperors (tax relief in 1336 for the Monastery’s ship³³) and of pious nobles, who always showed a certain preference for Vatopaidi. The Great Stratopedarches* George Astras donated a property at Moudros on Lemnos before 1359, to which his heirs added others³⁴. In 1362 another Great Stratopedarches, Demetrius Tzamblakon, donated an estate at the Gallikos, about which he clearly states that he had suffered from the forays of the Triballi accursed of God, that is, the Serbs³⁵. The former Protostrator* Manasses Tarchaneiotes donated a small monastery in Thessaloniki³⁶, the Great Domesticus Alexius Lascaris Metochites granted land at Aghios Mamas, Chalcidice (1369)³⁷, the priest-monk Niphon donated the Church of St John the Evangelist with land and a vineyard on Lemnos (1373)³⁸, and the priest-monk Ignatius Chortatzes granted an immovable property in the vicinity of the Church of St Demetrius in Thessaloniki to the Monastery (1375)³⁹.

The increase in the Monastery’s property occurred in a turbulent era and its management presented problems. Frequently, it was considered advantageous to hand over the maintenance of the properties to a secular manager, especially churches which were in ruins⁴⁰. In case of the fields, such as at Moudros and Ermeleia, the danger of pirate attack obliged the Monastery to construct towers⁴¹. This was the period of the first Ottoman conquest in the Balkans and the times were difficult. After the Battle of Maritsa in 1371, Serbian rule in Macedonia collapsed. Manuel Palaeologus, who was then established in Thessaloniki, re-conquered the Serbian-held lands and in order to finance the defence of the country, confiscated half of the holdings of the monasteries of Mount Athos and of Thessaloniki and gave them to soldiers as pronoiai. But to no avail. In 1383 the Ottomans conquered Serres; in 1384 they began the blockade of Thessaloniki; and in 1387 they occupied it. The Holy Mountain, which had secured privileges from the Ottoman Sultans even before they came to the area⁴², passed smoothly under Ottoman rule and was able to retain its properties. Only in some exceptional cases were there some small incidents with monastic lands which suffered under the conquerors.

For the regions of Thessaloniki and the Holy Mountain, the first Turkish occupation ended after the crushing of the Ottomans at Ancyra by Tamerlane (1402) and with the treaty of 1403 between the Ottoman Prince Suleyman and Manuel II Palaeologus⁴³. The Holy Mountain remained under the jurisdiction of Constantinople⁴⁴; Thessaloniki acquired its own Emperor, John VII, and later its own Despot, Andronicus, the son of Manuel. The Monastery of Vatopaidi swung between the two semi-independent powers. Circumstances, however, continued to be difficult and finances were tight. There were still a few donations of land in Macedonia (and indeed in Lemnos, which remained in Byzantine hands). John VII divided the public revenues of Kassandra among six monasteries, among which was Vatopaidi; Manuel II and the Despot Andronicus provided a number of tax concessions. Other gifts in cash came from Serbia⁴⁵. However, everything was now on a smaller scale. In 1420 the situation in Byzantine Macedonia was difficult because of Turkish incursions, while in 1423 Thessaloniki was handed over to the Venetians in the hope that they would be in a position to defend it. The Holy Mountain passed once more under Turkish sovereignty. Thessaloniki was seized by the Turks in 1430.

The Monastery of Vatopaidi continued to hold a leading position in the monastic republic. It continued to receive donations from the nobility, particularly from Serbia, and to distribute adelphata. It maintained contacts with Constantinople. The Emperor borrowed from it those books  he could not find in the City and requested the attendance of a representative of the Monastery at the Council of Ferrara-Florence (1437 -1439). But the life of the Monastery now continued under a new regime, that of Turkish rule as such, which was to last for almost five centuries.

Notes:

*The history of the Holy Mountain during the Middle Ages is now known to us thanks to the monumental work of Papachryssanthou (1992).

1. Actes du Protaton, 1975, no. 7.

2. The traditions relating to the foundation of the various monasteries of the Holy Mountain constitute a separate genre of literature which flourished in the monastic republic from the 16th century onwards. They are repeated in the various histories of Athos: in the ‘Patria of the Holy Mountain’ and in the ‘Partial Narration’, in the various pilgrim’s guides (proskynetaria), in the histories of Athos written in the 19th century by Porfyrij Uspenskij, Gedeon, Vlachos, Pistis, and others. The most complete record is to be found in the ῞Αγιον ῎Ορος of Gerasimos Smyrnakis, which was first published in Athens in 1903. The details given below are drawn from Smyrnakis.

3. At this point the clearly erroneous date of 938 is given.

4. Actes d’Iviron, 1985, No. 7, lines 5, 63.

5. Papachryssanthou, 1992, pp. 236-237.

6. The only Abbot Nicholas who is mentioned in the Tragus is the calligrapher and founder of the monydrion of the same name between the Monastery of Koutloumousiou and the Monastery of Docheiariou.

7. According to an unverified tradition, the same Athanasius the Athonite laid down the ‘conventions’ and the ‘regulations’ of the Monastery of Vatopaidi.

8. Actes de Xéropotamou, 1964, No. 2, line 22.

9. Actes d’Esphigménou, 1973, No. 3, line 36.

10. Actes du Protaton, 1975, No. 8.

11. On Adrianople as a centre for aristocratic families, see Cheynet, 1990, esp. p. 232.

12. Goudas, 1926, No. 3.

13. Goudas, 1926, Nos 2 and 3.

14. Actes de Xénophon, 1986, No. 1, line 68.

15. Actes d’Iviron, 1985, No. 47, line 31.

16. Actes d’Iviron, 1985, No. 50, line 31.

17. Actes de Chilandar, 1910, Nos. 3 and 4.

18. Actes de Kutlumus, 1945, No. 3, line 26.

19. Regel, 1898, No. 2.

20. Actes de Chilandar, 1910, No. 77, line 59. Actes de Kastamonitou, 1978, No. 5, line 37.

21. Regel, 1898, No. 2.

22. Goudas, 1926, No. 4.

23. Regel, 1898, No. 2. Dölger, 1948, No. 105. Actes de Saint Pantéléèmôn, 1982, appendice II. Actes d’Esphigménou, 1973, Nos 11, 12, 13. Actes de Docheiariou, 1984, No. 10, line 64. Arkadios, 1919, pp. 438-439. Theocharidis, 1962.

24. Mavrommatis, 1987, pp. 74-92.

25. Arkadios, 1937, pp. Á et seq, 954 et seq .

26. Soloviev – Mosin, 1936, No. 18. Arkadios, 1919, pp. 330-331. Theocharidis, 1962, No. 4. Mosin, 1939, p. 168.

27. Goudas, 1927, pp. 238-241.

28. Theocharidis, 1961-1963, pp. 133-138.

29. Theocharidis, 141 et seq.

30. Beis, 1909, pp. 271-273.

31. Actes de Docheiariou, 1984, p. 255.

32. Mosˇin, 1939, p. 155 et seq.

33. Regel, 1898, No. 7.

34. Actes de Dionysiou, 1968, p. 48. Goudas, 1927, pp. 246-248.

35. Theocharidis, 1961-1963, p. 138 f.

36. Goudas, 1927, pp. 244-245.

37. Regel, 1898, No. 8.

38. Arkadios, 1919, pp. 435-436.

39. Rokkos, 1920, pp. 633-635.

40. For example, Zerlentis, 1918, pp. 221-223. Rokkos, 1920, pp. 631-632. Theocharidis, 1961-1963, p. 150 et seq.

41. Arkadios, 1919, pp. 430-431. Actes de Docheiariou, 1948, p. 48.

42. Oikonomidès, 1976, pp. 1 -10.

43. Zachariadou, 1983, pp. 268-296.

44. Arkadios, 1919, p. 443 et seq.

45. For example, Arkadios, 1919, pp. 333-334; 335-339; 429-430; 433-434. Alexandros, 1922, pp. 86-87. Dölger, 1956, p. 100. Mosˇin, 1939, pp. 165-167. Actes de Xéropotamou, 1964, No. 28.