Andrew Louth - Syriac Christian Church

Andrew Louth - Syriac Christian Church Andrew Louth - Syriac Christian Church

13.12.2012 Views

2 THE SOURCES OF MAXIMUS’ THEOLOGY Hans Urs von Balthasar prefaced his great study of the world-view of St Maximus the Confessor with a quotation from Coleridge: There is among us a set of critics, who seem to hold, that every possible thought and image is traditional; who have no notion that there are such things as fountains in the world, small as well as great; and who would therefore charitably derive every rill they behold flowing, from a perforation made in some other man’s tank. 1 It is important to heed Balthasar’s warning, not because Maximus is completely original, but precisely because his originality is that of a mind that draws disparate things together in a profound and compelling way. But he certainly has sources, and many of his ideas can be traced back across the centuries, and not only across the Christian centuries, for Maximus knew a good deal of classical philosophy— in its later form that we dub ‘Neoplatonism’—so that many of his ideas can be traced back to the great philosopher of the fifth and fourth centuries BC, Plato, and even earlier. But he lived in a civilization that valued tradition, that tended to think that history was a process of degeneration and decay, rather than of progress, so that consequently antiquity was a measure of truth. The ideal condition would be to remain the same; any change was likely to be corruption. But Paul Lemerle’s oft-quoted warning that ‘to represent Byzantium as immutable over a period of eleven centuries is to fall into a trap set by Byzantium itself’ 2 applies to Byzantine theology, as much as to Byzantine political institutions. In both cases we need to accustom ourselves to recognize originality in the attempt to preserve an impression of permanence.

20 INTRODUCTION THE LITERARY FORMS OF HIS THEOLOGY There are several manifestations of such conservatism in the theology of Maximus. First of all, perhaps, there are the very literary forms in which his theology is cast. He has two favoured forms. First, that of a collection of paragraphs (or chapters, as they are usually called, though they are normally quite short, sometimes no more than a sentence or two). They are arranged in groups of one hundred —a century, or in Greek, hekatontas—for instance, his four Centuries on Love, or his two Centuries on Theology and the Incarnation. The genre is monastic in origin, so far as the Christian tradition is concerned: the great monastic theorist of the fourth century, Evagrius, composed centuries, and there are later centuries from the fifth-century Bishop of Photikê, Diadochus, whose work influenced Maximus, John of Carpathos, who may have been Maximus’ contemporary, Nicetas Stethatos, the eleventh-century disciple and biographer of St Symeon the New Theologian and many others. 3 The reason for this arrangement is twofold: first, practical, the brief chapters are intended to convey understanding of aspects of the monk’s ascetic struggle (or of the Christian faith) in an arresting and assimilable fashion—they are to be read slowly and pondered, chapter by chapter; second, symbolic, for the number one hundred is a symbol of perfection or completeness (Evagrius provides a striking variant of this by compiling ‘centuries’ that either, as in his Praktikos, conclude with a collection of stories of the Desert Fathers, or, in his Gnostic Centuries, contain only ninety chapters: in both cases suggesting symbolically that theoretical instruction about the spiritual life cannot encompass it, let alone be complete). In these ways, the century is presented as a summary of traditional wisdom: in the case of centuries on the spiritual life, a wisdom reaching back to the Desert Fathers of fourthcentury Egypt, and often based on the collections of their sayings and exploits, and beyond them to the great ascetics of the Scriptures, notably the prophets Elijah and Elisha. The second literary form in which Maximus’ theology is cast is that of responses to questions raised with him by others. Sometimes this reminds one of the classical tradition of scholia: comments, sometimes quite lengthy, on difficult passages—originally in the great epic poems of Homer. But this form also belongs—like the century, and perhaps more fundamentally—to the tradition of monastic catechesis, to the question-and-answer pattern that was followed in the instruction given by a spiritual father to his disciples. Some monastic treatises are cast directly in the form of questions and answers (the Greek term for this kind of work is erôtapokriseis): early examples can be found in the Macarian Homilies (e.g. nos. 12, 26 and 27 of the traditional

20 INTRODUCTION<br />

THE LITERARY FORMS OF HIS THEOLOGY<br />

There are several manifestations of such conservatism in the theology<br />

of Maximus. First of all, perhaps, there are the very literary forms in<br />

which his theology is cast. He has two favoured forms. First, that of a<br />

collection of paragraphs (or chapters, as they are usually called,<br />

though they are normally quite short, sometimes no more than a<br />

sentence or two). They are arranged in groups of one hundred —a<br />

century, or in Greek, hekatontas—for instance, his four Centuries on<br />

Love, or his two Centuries on Theology and the Incarnation. The genre<br />

is monastic in origin, so far as the <strong>Christian</strong> tradition is concerned:<br />

the great monastic theorist of the fourth century, Evagrius, composed<br />

centuries, and there are later centuries from the fifth-century Bishop<br />

of Photikê, Diadochus, whose work influenced Maximus, John of<br />

Carpathos, who may have been Maximus’ contemporary, Nicetas<br />

Stethatos, the eleventh-century disciple and biographer of St Symeon<br />

the New Theologian and many others. 3 The reason for this<br />

arrangement is twofold: first, practical, the brief chapters are<br />

intended to convey understanding of aspects of the monk’s ascetic<br />

struggle (or of the <strong>Christian</strong> faith) in an arresting and assimilable<br />

fashion—they are to be read slowly and pondered, chapter by chapter;<br />

second, symbolic, for the number one hundred is a symbol of perfection<br />

or completeness (Evagrius provides a striking variant of this by<br />

compiling ‘centuries’ that either, as in his Praktikos, conclude with a<br />

collection of stories of the Desert Fathers, or, in his Gnostic Centuries,<br />

contain only ninety chapters: in both cases suggesting symbolically<br />

that theoretical instruction about the spiritual life cannot encompass<br />

it, let alone be complete). In these ways, the century is presented as a<br />

summary of traditional wisdom: in the case of centuries on the<br />

spiritual life, a wisdom reaching back to the Desert Fathers of fourthcentury<br />

Egypt, and often based on the collections of their sayings and<br />

exploits, and beyond them to the great ascetics of the Scriptures,<br />

notably the prophets Elijah and Elisha.<br />

The second literary form in which Maximus’ theology is cast is that<br />

of responses to questions raised with him by others. Sometimes this<br />

reminds one of the classical tradition of scholia: comments, sometimes<br />

quite lengthy, on difficult passages—originally in the great epic poems<br />

of Homer. But this form also belongs—like the century, and perhaps<br />

more fundamentally—to the tradition of monastic catechesis, to the<br />

question-and-answer pattern that was followed in the instruction<br />

given by a spiritual father to his disciples. Some monastic treatises<br />

are cast directly in the form of questions and answers (the Greek term<br />

for this kind of work is erôtapokriseis): early examples can be found in<br />

the Macarian Homilies (e.g. nos. 12, 26 and 27 of the traditional

Hooray! Your file is uploaded and ready to be published.

Saved successfully!

Ooh no, something went wrong!