Of Valentines and Diversity

Cyril and Methodius--the saints of
reconciliation and unity in diversity

We always think of today as Valentine’s Day—the feast of Saint Valentine, a third century Roman presbyter (priest) who, while in prison and awaiting execution for his Christian faith, wrote letters of affectionate encouragement to his fellow prisoners to keep up their spirits.  From these billets-doux comes the tradition of sending “valentines” to one’s friends and loved ones.  Sweet. 

      But, actually for those of us who were at Mass today it is the feast of Saints Cyril and Methodius whose influence is not as broad as Valentine’s but has considerably more depth.  Cyril (827-869) and Methodius (815-885) were brothers, born in Thessalonica in what is today northern Greece.  Their father was Greek, their mother a Slav and there were five other brothers in the family.  Their father was a battalion commander in the Byzantine Army and he had met their mother while on duty in the northern reaches of the empire.  Their mother’s Slavic origin gave them a familiarity with the Slavic languages and customs.  Cyril, the younger brother, served the Emperor on a number of diplomatic missions to Islamic and Jewish states where he learned both Hebrew and Arabic as well as conducted serious theological debates regarding the Christian doctrine of the Trinity.

      The Prince of Moravia, Ratislav, appealed to the Byzantine Emperor Michael III and the Patriarch, Photius, for a mission to his realm (which is in today’s Czech Republic.  The Moravians had already accepted Christianity from missionaries sent from Louis the German, king of the Eastern Franks (today’s Germany).  But these missionaries were trying to make Moravia a subject state in Louis’ growing empire and Ratislav wanted to balance the political influence by replacing the western missionaries with eastern ones.  (It is too early to say “Catholic” and “Orthodox” as the Church was not yet finally divided though there was a dispute between the Patriarch Photius and Pope Nicholas I in which Nicholas had declared Photius’ nomination as Patriarch invalid and excommunicated him. Photius, being a gentleman, returned the compliment. For more information see entries for January 25, August 23, September 5, and 10—2011.)  The Emperor and Patriarch selected Cyril for the mission and he brought along his brother, Methodius. 

     Once in Moravia their knowledge of the Slavic tongue enabled them to translate large portions of the Bible into Slavonic as well as to translate the liturgy into the popular tongue—something that gave them an edge over the western missionaries who persisted in using Latin for Church services.  Even though they came from Constantinople, initially the brothers seemed to have used the western liturgy for their model in designing a liturgy for the Slavic peoples.  The resistance to a vernacular liturgy by the German-oriented clergy who celebrated the Latin Liturgy made that project ultimately unsuccessful, but the brothers realized that if their mission was to succeed they needed not only the blessing of the Emperor and Patriarch who had sent them, but of the Pope to whom the Moravian people had already become attached through the efforts of the German missionaries.  The situation was very complicated because the brothers were walking a tightrope and trying to hold the Church together at a time when the Pope of Rome and Patriarch of Constantinople were duking it out.  When Pope Nicholas invited them to Rome they went—and they brought with them the relics of Saint Clement, believed to be the third successor to the Apostle Peter as “bishop of Rome” (pope).  Clement supposedly had died as a martyr in the Crimea after being deported there by the Emperor Trajan.  (The reason I use quotation marks is that the actual history is much more complicated than the pious legends and sixth-grade history that Sister told us in her naiveté, mostly because Father never told her either.)  In the event, they were warmly welcomed in Rome—the Pope saw it as an opportunity to stick it to his rival in Constantinople—and their use of the Slavic tongue in the liturgy was “approved” by Pope Adrian II (who had succeeded Nicholas in December 867).  When I used to have a pied-a-terre in Rome, I would often walk by the Basilica of Santa Prassede where there is a plaque remarking that the brothers lived there during their visit to Rome and so I have always had an affinity for these fellows—plus which I used to attend the Sunday Liturgy at the Russicum where it is sung in Old Church Slavonic a la Cyril and Methodius.  Cyril died in Rome and was buried near the relics of Saint Clement in the basilica of San Clemente where one can visit his tomb today.  Methodius returned to the Slavic mission—this time to Pannonia (in what is part of today’s Hungary and the Balkans with a bit of Austria thrown in for luck).  Here he came into conflict with those German bishop-friends of Louis the German again and the Archbishop of Salzburg was particularly annoyed as this was supposed to be his turf and he wanted Mass in Latin not some Slavic lingo.  Methodius went back to Rome to get the Pope’s support against the Salzburg claims and was consecrated bishop by Pope Adrian and give jurisdiction over Pannonia and Moravia.  This didn’t go over well with the German King and bishops and Methodius was arrested until the Pope ordered him freed.  The papacy continued to support Methodius and his Slavic mission throughout his lifetime, but after his death sided with the German/Latin Mass folk.  There has always since been tension between Slavic Rite Christians and Latin Rite Christians, even when all are Catholic.  Slavic Christians in the region evangelized by Cyril and Methodius—today’s Hungary, Slovenia, Slovakia, Czech Republic, and the Balkans tend to vacillate between communion with Rome and communion with the Constantinople Patriarchate. Most of those who were governed by the Austrian Empire in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries tend to follow Rome, most of those in the Balkans where the Empire was resented, have autocephalous Churches in communion with the Greek Patriarch.  Perhaps the greatest influence of the brothers however are in lands they never visited—in the Ukraine, Russia, and other northern Slavic states that still use Old Church Slavonic in their liturgy and the Cyrillic Alphabet for ordinary every day communications. 

     The importance of the brothers is that, loyal both to their Greek roots and Roman patronage, they represent an effort to keep the Churches of the East and West in Communion and Cooperation.  Maybe their intercession restore the Unity of the Church.  And let us Latin Rite Catholics remember that we aren’t the only peoplein the Church but the Church is truly Catholic and its history teaches us that there is plenty of room for diversity of liturgy and even doctrine.  Maybe we should send more Valentines and do less arguing about silly things.   

History Sometimes Flunks Theology Exams

The Theodora Episcopa Mosaic in the Basilica

of Santa Prassede in Rome

Sometimes I get correspondence about this blog asking why I bring up contemporary issues such as the new translation of the Mass which goes into effect at the end of this month or suggesting that I keep opinions to myself and “stick to the past.”   I think this is because most people who have not studied history in depth don’t understand what history is all about.  History is not about the past.  History uses the past as metaphor to speak about the present and the future.  In that way history is really a tool that helps us better understand not only our world and how it has evolved to be the way it is, but to help us understand human nature and how and why people act the way they do.  If one gets the doctorate in Church History one gets a degree such as D.Hist. or H.E.D. (Historia Ecclesiae Doctor) depending on the institution at which one studies but in the “real world” of academia, if academia can be called a real world—and I admit that is very debatable—the doctorate is Ph.D.  Philosophiae Doctor—Doctor of Philosophy.  We study history as philosophy, that is as a branch of the “love of wisdom” (which is what the word “philosophy” means.  It is not enough to know the facts, one has to be able to interpret the facts into a coherent narrative that gives us not only information but insight. 
     And a historian who studies the history of the Church is looking for insights, often insights that Theology—a discipline that is restricted by the authority of the Church—is prohibited from giving.  The historical facts often contradict the Theological doctrines, leaving theologians, at least Catholic Theologians,  powerless to set the record straight about things.  There are, for example, teachings once declared infallible that are no longer held by the Church.  At one point in the history of the Church, for example, the Church taught that only those “subject to the authority of the Roman Pontiff” could be saved.  The Church no longer holds that—and has not held it for a long time.   What are the implications of that for the notion of papal infallibility?    There are theological presuppositions unsupported by history—what does that do to magisterial authority?  For example: current Church teaching declares definitively that there never were women ordained to the ministries of bishop or priest.  Frankly, that question is—from a historical perspective—not closed.  (It is from a doctrinal one.)  Historians are still weighing and debating evidence to that question.  There are some archeological monuments that can be interpreted as referring to female bishops or priests.  The question is complex from historical and archeological perspectives.  Are we sure that they mean that the referred to females were bishops or priests?  No.  They could be the wife of the bishop (not uncommon before the fourth century) or the priest (not uncommon before the 12^th century).  There is a famous mosaic in the basilica of Santa Prassede in Rome that displays the image of “Theodora episcopa”—Theodora, the Lady Bishop.  This mosaic—from the early ninth century, is far too late for there to have been a lady bishop; moreover we know that Theodora was the mother of the Bishop, Pope Paschal I.  So you have to be careful how you interpret these things, but just because this particular artifact does not mean that the woman was a bishop one cannot say that several dozen other inscriptions from earlier centuries cannot refer to a woman bishop or priest.  And if they do so refer—was the bishop or priest in question a bishop or priest in the “Great Church” (i.e. the orthodox and apostolic Christian Church which antecedes both the Catholic and Orthodox Church) or from one of the many sects now seen to be schismatic or heretical such as the Collyridians or the Montanists who did ordain women.  Frankly the jury is out on the question of women’s ordination and the difficulty is that to prove that the Church never ordained women is an all but impossible task whereas a single example suffices to prove that they did.  Historans can look at these questions; Catholic theologians can’t—at least publically.  Moreover, the ministries of bishop and priest have evolved through the centuries.  Indeed, were there “bishops” and “priests” –in our theological understanding of a tripartite Sacrament of Orders—Bishops, Priests, Deacons—before the time of Ignatius of Antioch at the end of the first century?  It is a complex question.   There were episodes in the history of the Church—perhaps as late as the thirteenth century—when priests could confer the sacrament of Holy Orders.  On the other hand, there were times when it seems that priests were not seen as having the “power” to say mass or forgive sins.    The “powers” ascribed to the various orders (as in Holy Orders) have changed over the course of time.  Historians uncover the fact that things we think can never change have in fact been the product of historical evolution. The History of the Church unlocks possibilities for the future by showing us the variables of the past. 
     My closest friend of many years and his wife are Lutherans.  We often travel together and in the years I have lived in Rome they have been frequent guests.  They have never been able to get enough of Saint Peter’s—always wanting to return there. (I can think of a dozen churches I think are more beautiful and more interesting—including Santa Prassede that I mentioned above.)  And I always remind them that it was the building of this Church—Saint Peter’s—that triggered Luther and his protest against selling indulgences.  I love irony and history is full of irony.   History shows us that only God was in the beginning, is now, and shall be evermore.  We humans and our frail institutions—including the Church—come and go, changing to the needs of the times and like Ozymandias passing from the scene altogether when no longer needed.