Azazeel (31 page)

In response Nestorius said, ‘It’s a ruse, Your Grace. He starts by addressing me with honorifics in order to arouse people’s rancour. After that he incites them to hold me in
contempt, so they will curse me as a heretic and praise him for his politeness.’

Bishop Rabbula pointed the tips of his fingers at me to indicate I should carry on reading. His gesture was ridiculous, with a trace of disdain for which I knew no reason. I looked at him in a
way that meant his gesture was inappropriate, but he was not looking in my direction. He was looking down, dejected.

I resumed reading the epistle, the language of which soon turned fiery in both languages. It contained violent passages, hostile towards Bishop Nestorius, starting when Cyril told him,
‘You have greatly scandalized the whole church, and have cast among the people the leaven of a strange and new heresy. How can we any longer, under these circumstances, make a defence for our
silence, or how shall we not be forced to remember that Christ said, “Do not think that I came to bring peace on the earth; I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I came to set a man
against his father, and a daughter against her mother.”’

Other incendiary passages followed, including the one where the bishop of Alexandria tells Nestorius: ‘It would not be sufficient for your Reverence to confess with us only the symbol of
the faith set out some time ago by the Holy Ghost at the great and holy synod convened in Nicaea: for you have not held and interpreted it rightly, but rather perversely; even though you confess
with your voice the form of words. But in addition, in writing and by oath, you must confess that you also anathematize those polluted and unholy dogmas of yours.’

At this place in the epistle my voice dropped so low that it was almost inaudible and I was so uncomfortable that I stammered and stumbled on the words. I stopped for a moment, and they fell
silent. Then Nestorius signed to me to continue and I resumed reading the impassioned epistle. ‘We confess the Word to have been made one with the flesh hypostatically, and we adore one Son
and Lord, Jesus Christ. We do not divide him into parts and separate man and God in him... He is God of all and Lord of the universe, but is neither his own slave nor his own master.’

The words of the letter and its message exhausted me, as did jumping between the Greek original and the Coptic translation, so much so that I was about to ask their leave to rest a little, and
spare me the task completely. But I found I had almost completed the papyrus scroll, leaving only those lines entitled ‘The Twelve Anathemas’. The first of them read: ‘If anyone
does not confess that Christ (Emmanuel) is God in truth, and therefore that the holy virgin is the mother of God (for she bore in a fleshly way the Word of God become flesh), let him be
anathema.’

At this point, Bishop John of Antioch asked me what was the Coptic equivalent of the Greek word ‘anathema’, meaning ‘curse’, and I told him that the Coptic word has the
meaning ‘excommunication’ and there was no great difference in meaning between the two words, for in the two languages they both meant the penalty inflicted on apostates, infidels and
heretics.

I went back to reading Cyril’s anathemas, which were brief and definitive, leaving no room for interpretation or alleviation of their devastating impact. In the end they all meant that
whoever stood in the way of what he decided was orthodox dogma – ‘let him be anathema, let him be anathema, anathema’. In this way the last twelve paragraphs of Cyril’s
letter laid out these anathemas, with which the church of Alexandria struck a spark, lighting a flame which flared up and blazed until the fire engulfed the whole world.

When I finished reading, a heavy silence fell upon the gathering. I found it hard to breathe, as though a mountain were weighing on my chest. Among the three bishops and
Anastasios the priest a sense of anguish prevailed. Nestorius opened his right hand in a gesture of puzzlement, his lower lip taut in derision and amazement at Cyril’s words, which he
definitely was not hearing for the first time.

Bishop Rabbula broke the spell which had silenced us. ‘Do you really think Cyril has written to the emperor about this?’ he asked Nestorius.

‘Yes, holy Rabbula,’ Nestorius replied. ‘First he wrote two letters to Pulcheria, the emperor’s elder sister, and to Empress Eudocia, because he knows they are
influential. Then he wrote the emperor a long letter, signed on the back by dozens of priests and bishops. The palace courtiers told me that, but the emperor has not replied yet and I doubt he will
reply.’

Bishop Rabbula bowed his head, deeply worried and vexed to the utmost. Suddenly Anastasios the priest burst into speech, spewing out the words like flames of fire. ‘Let us resist this
assault immediately, let us stand in the face of all those heretics who say that the Virgin is the mother of God, because the Virgin was a woman among women, just a woman among women, and
it’s impossible that God should be born of woman.’

Anastasios the priest was shouting in fury, almost wrenching his throat from his stiff neck, where the veins were bulging fit to burst. It looked as if he wanted to keep shouting, but he stopped
when a young deacon knocked on the door and came in bringing us cups of a warm drink, which we drank in silence. I don’t remember now what we drank. The deacon whispered something in the ear
of Bishop John of Antioch, then went out straight away. Immediately the silence again descended on us.

Bishop Rabbula broke the silence by clearing his throat, and then he spoke: ‘Don’t you think, Nestorius, that we should make a truce with the Alexandrians?’

‘No, Rabbula. I will never make a truce in this matter. Let Cyril abandon his sick delusion that he is the defender of the faith on earth.’

Bishop John intervened, trying gently to calm Nestorius down, but his attempt was in vain. He was addressing him by the Greek form of his name, Nestoriios, and speaking to him with affection and
respect. John of Antioch seemed to me sincere in his affection for the reverend Nestorius as he tried to placate him with phrases such as ‘Don’t be angry, my reverend brother Nestorios,
lest the devil find his way into your reason and disturb your peace of mind.’ But Nestorius’s anger did not subside, and he was arguing back, saying, ‘If we are not angry for the
sake of our belief, reverend father, the devil will find his way into the heart and spirit of this religion.’

I had never seen Bishop Nestorius flare up in this way. At the time I felt most uncomfortable at how the bishops were talking about this sensitive subject in front of me, and I wanted to take my
leave of them, but Nestorius suddenly asked me what I thought about what I had read them.

‘As you are well aware, your Grace, I am out of touch with what is happening between the major churches, and I have no knowledge of the details of this matter, even if I have heard the
broad outlines. But I was apprehensive some months ago when we received the letter in which you forbade the laity and church leaders from repeating the word “theotokos”. I was yet more
anxious when I heard of the friendly correspondence between the bishops of Alexandria and Rome, and that they had agreed to reject Your Grace’s views.’

Bishop Rabbula nodded his head, impressed by what I said, as though he found it persuasive. Then he turned to address me for the first time, saying that the rapprochement between Alexandria and
Rome was temporary and its only purpose was to weaken the diocese of Constantinople in the person of Bishop Nestorius. As for Nestorius’s letter banning the word ‘theotokos’, it
was sent only to the eastern churches and was unlikely to have reached the Egyptian churches and monasteries and had not been translated into Coptic. He added that he thought that what had angered
Bishop Cyril was reports of the sermon which the reverend Nestorius had made the day he was installed as bishop, when he said, ‘Jesus is human, and his incarnation is a compromise between the
Eternal Logos and Christ the human. Mary is the mother of Jesus the human being, and should not be called the mother of God. It is not right that she be called theotokos.’

I was surprised that Bishop Rabbula was able to recall Nestorius’s phrase word for word and that he dared repeat it so forcefully in front of the author, at a time when we were in the
midst of these upheavals. I was inclined to go along with Rabbula and discuss with him the views of Nestorius, which we knew were in origin the opinions of the late Bishop Theodore of Mopsuestia.
But I held my tongue and confined myself to nodding my head. When I did not interrupt him, Bishop Rabbula continued, still looking towards me without seeing me. ‘Bishop John of Antioch wrote
a lengthy answer to the three letters of Bishop Cyril, discussing the matter with him in detail, as the reverend Bishop Nestorius had done before him,’ he said, ‘but they could not come
to agreement. Now Bishop Nestorius wants to respond to the anathemas from the bishop of Alexandria with counter-anathemas. I believe that would stir up more conflict and many forms of enmity, and
would inflame contention and strife between the big churches.’

Bishop Rabbula was eloquent, and what he said was severe and persuasive. That was no surprise, as he was a renowned ecclesiastical poet. It was he who, through his famous poems, had prevailed
against the ideas propagated in the poems of the Syrian gnostic Bardaisan, who was described as an apostate. The poetry of Rabbula was now more famous than Bardaisan’s poems, especially after
Rabbula took up the post of bishop of Edessa, gained prestige among the people there and became the chief Christian in those eastern regions, so much so that his poems and hymns are sung today in
most masses and on holy days. None the less there was something in Bishop Rabbula that I found troubling.

I sat in silence out of politeness, uncertain how to escape this meeting, to which I was paying little attention. My mind wandered, but then the reverend Nestorius looked towards me, his face
red with anger, and asked me, ‘Do you believe, Hypa, that the monks in the many monasteries in Wadi Natroun and in the deserts of Egypt agree with Cyril in what he says?’

‘They’ll agree with him in anything, for they are the army of the church of St Mark, and the loyal soldiers of the Pope of Alexandria,’ I replied.

‘Pope, hmm, then so be it.’

John of Antioch looked at Nestorius with paternal affection. He was about to speak but Rabbula of Edessa stood up grumpily and asked their leave, saying he wanted to drop in on the Roman
governor of Antioch in his residence, then come back to attend the prayers. He asked Bishop John if he would come along with him. John hesitated a moment, but Nestorius decided the matter, saying,
‘Go together in the protection of the Lord, for I want to be alone a little with Hypa the monk.’ They departed side by side, leaving us secluded in the corner of the room. Nestorius
whispered something in the ear of Anastasios the priest, who stood up at once, and we were alone.

After a moment’s silence, I said in a friendly manner, ‘Father, I am anxious for you. I do not advise you to challenge the church of Alexandria.’

‘Hypa, I’m not challenging anyone, but Cyril wants to proclaim his authority over all the churches in the world.’

Nestorius began to repeat what I already knew, how he believed it was wrong to call the Virgin Mary theotokos, because she was a saintly woman but not the mother of God, and it was wrong for us
to believe that God was a child who was born from the womb of a woman in labour, who urinated in his cradle and needed a nappy, who felt hungry and cried for his mother’s breast. ‘Does
it make sense,’ he asked, ‘to believe that God suckled at the breast of the Virgin, and grew day by day until he was two months old, then three months, then four. The Lord is perfect,
as it is written, so how could he take the form of a child, when the Virgin Mary was a human who gave birth from her immaculate womb by a divine miracle, and after that her son became a
manifestation of God and a saviour for mankind. He was like a hole through which we have been able to see the light of God, or like a signet ring on which a divine message appeared. The fact that
the sun shines through a hole does not make the hole a sun, just as the appearance of the message on the signet ring does not make the ring a message. Hypa, these people have gone quite mad, and
have made God one of three.’

I kept my silence out of respect for Nestorius’s anger and pity for him. He soon calmed down and spoke in a gentler tone. He told me, and I summarize, that the temporary manifestation of
Almighty God in the Messiah Jesus was a grace that God gave us and we should not throw to waste this divine gift by extrapolating and getting carried away with our superstitions about how Christ
was divine from the time He was in his mother’s womb or since He was a child. He said it was wrong to believe the Virgin Mary gave birth to God, because God endures in His eternal everlasting
perfection. He is the only One, neither is He born nor does He die, but He is manifested at times and in occlusion at other times, in accordance with His will.

The reverend Nestorius looked into my eyes with eyes full of sorrow, and said, ‘Is there anything strange in what I assert? Or is the strangeness rather in what Cyril and his followers
say? Hypa, the danger goes further and is graver than the word “theotokos”, which both the public and the learned bandy about. It’s a question of true faith, and whether
Christianity is able to address the heart and mind of man in every time and place. The pagans scoff at our superstitious excesses, and after them, other scoffers will arise from amongst us to
ridicule these delusions and try to bring them down and so bring down the whole religion. The gospel and divine miracles, Hypa, are a rare mystery, and if they are done to excess they lose their
meaning, and we lose our faith and defy reason.’