The increasing importance of the church as a cultural institution following
the abolition of the monarchy in 428 is not of itself surprising. It
was the only institution that cut across factional lines, and it was the only
medium through which literary and artistic endeavours could be realised
on any meaningful scale. Individuals with financial backing would still
attend the universities of the eastern Mediterranean; Greek and Syriac as
well as Armenian sources attest the presence of Armenian students in Antioch,
Beirut, Alexandria, Athens and elsewhere. But government service as
a career for the educated was no longer an option after 428; the only major
patron of education and learning was the church, and only the church
could offer advancement for the ambitious and a haven for the studious.
The complaints of Anania of Shirak in the seventh century that his fellow
countrymen did not admire learning suggest that without patronage
a teaching career was difficult.17 There were cities in Armenia, but they
did not play the cultural role of an Antioch or an Athens, with organised
schools and subsidised professorial chairs.
The relationship of the Armenian church to the larger Greek-speaking
world was thus of importance. Armenians were always admirers of Greek
learning, but their attitude to Constantinople was ambivalent. In part,
such an attitude reflected the political situation; a pro-Greek attitude could
arouse suspicions of disloyalty to the shah. Some part was played by the very
different backgrounds of Armenians and Greeks – and, not least, the strong
Syrian strain in Armenian ecclesiastical life, church ritual and theological
exegesis prevented any automatic acceptance of things Greek. An official
break between the churches was long in coming. But the steps leading to
that eventual rupture deserve a brief review.
Luckily, the Armenian reaction to the theological questions that divided
theGreek oikoumen¯e – debates which gave the Armenians an opportunity to
define more carefully their own position – is well documented in the Book of
letters. The first three sections of this unique collection of official documents
comprise exchanges of letters between Armenian ecclesiastical authorities
and members of the Greek-speaking imperial church, representatives of the
Syriac-speaking church in Iran, and ecclesiastics in Georgia, covering the
fifth, sixth and seventh centuries. The earliest is a letter by Acacius, bishop
of Melitene, written soon after the council of Ephesus, held in 431.18
Melitene had been one of the cities where the pupils of Mashtots‘ pursued
their study of Greek. Acacius had metMashtots‘ on the latter’s travels
in Roman territory, and was well informed of events in Armenia. He had
recently played a significant role in the council of Ephesus, where Nestorius,
patriarch of Constantinople (428–31) and other Antiochene theologians
had been condemned. So he took alarm when he heard that works
by Theodore of Mopsuestia were being read in Armenia. For Theodore
was a prominent biblical exponent of the Antiochene school, whose interpretation
of the Incarnation had been rejected at Ephesus. But Armenian
interest in Theodore was not surprising, since the tradition he represented
had been strong in Edessa, the centre of Syriac-speaking Christian culture.
It was to Edessa that Mashtots‘ had gone in his search for an Armenian
script, and it was in Edessa that many of his pupils studied. The reply
to Acacius’ letter, signed by Sahak as head of the Armenian church, was
polite but guarded, denying any Armenian involvement in heresy yet not
specifying any heresy by name. A second letter was sent by Acacius to the
secular authorities of Armenia. It had been prompted by Syrian priests who
reported that the influence of Nestorian ideas in Armenia was continuing.
But it passed without response.
Of greater impact was a letter from the patriarch of Constantinople,
Proclus (434–46). This time it was not foreign Syrians, but two pupils of
Mashtots‘ who had taken the initiative. While in the capital to translate
Greek texts, they approached the patriarch for an authoritative interpretation
of the doctrine of the Incarnation. That this was not an official
solicitation by the Armenian authorities is clear from an apology by a
third Armenian disciple, Eznik, who had studied in Edessa before going to
Constantinople. Proclus responded by addressing a detailed exposition of
the matter to the bishops of Armenia. The Armenian reply was signed by
both Sahak andMashtots‘. After defining their own faith, they assured the
patriarch that no heretical ideas attributable to Theodore were circulating
in Armenia. The letter of Proclus, however, was to remain a keystone of
Armenian orthdoxy, and this early emphasis on the council of Ephesus had
a profound impact. Ephesus, rather than the council of Chalcedon, held
twenty years later, would be the rallying-cry of Armenian theologians.
The fourth ecumenical council – held beside the Bosporus in Chalcedon
in 451 – did not bring peace to the warring parties or solve the theological
question of defining the Incarnation in a manner satisfactory to all. The
catholicos of Armenia was not represented at Chalcedon, though bishops
from Armenian provinces on the Roman side of the frontier were in
attendance.19 Somewhat surprisingly, the early Armenian historians pass
over both the second (‘robber’) council of Ephesus in 449 and that of Chalcedon
in 451. It was theHenotikon of Emperor Zeno (474–91), promulgated
in 482, which Armenians emphasised as orthodox.20 Bypassing the recent
divisive council of Chalcedon, in their official pronouncements the Armenians
were happy to pledge their allegiance to the councils of Nicaea (325)
and Ephesus. As they developed their own traditions in ecclesiastical architecture
and moulded an individual Armenian literature, they were not at
the turn of the century acting in deliberate opposition to what was then
the orthodoxy of the empire.
At a council held in 505–6 in Dvin, the residence of the marzban and
the main city of Persian Armenia, a group of Syrians from the Persian
empire appeared, requesting episcopal consecration for one of their monks,
Symeon. These Syrians were not members of the church in Persia which
enjoyed the shah’s official recognition, but were monophysites. The
Armenian bishops consecrated Symeon and recognised the orthodoxy of
these Syrians as being in conformity with their own faith and that of the
Greeks. But the zealous Symeon, an opponent of the official church in Persia,
persuaded the Armenians to anathematise the council of Chalcedon as
expressing the views of Nestorius.21 The Armenians did not anathematise
the imperial church as such; the Henotikon of Zeno was still in force, and
he was regarded by the Armenians as ‘the blessed emperor’.22
But this apparent unanimity of the imperial and Armenian churches was
short-lived. Zeno’s policy of compromise with the opponents of Chalcedon
was reversed on the accession of Justin I (518–27). After 518 the imperial
church of Constantinople made peace with Rome and stood firmly behind
the definitions of Chalcedon. As the sixth century progressed, the monophysites
in Syria and Egypt became more coherently organised, thanks
mainly to the labours of Jacob Baradaeus (see above, p. 118), while their
theology found definite expression in the works of Severus of Antioch.
The differences apparent at the time of Chalcedon had now become quite
clear-cut, and compromise was increasingly difficult.