Part 1 — Introduction
Part 2 — The Council of Nicaea (325)
Part 3 — The Council of Constantinople (381)
Part 4 — The Council of Ephesus (431)
Part 5 — The Council of Chalcedon (451)
Part 6 — Leo
Part 7 — Conclusion
This is part 6 of our series discussing Lawrence McCready’s article “Papal Primacy in the First Councils” from the Unam Sanctam Catholicam blog. We’ve previously discussed the councils at Nicaea (325), Constantinople (381), Rome (382), Ephesus (431), and the Council of Chalcedon (451). Today, we will finish discussing the Council of Chalcedon with a discussion of Leo, Bishop of Rome, and his deceitful behavior.
Let’s continue where we left off in the last part.
The papal legates at the council vigorously resisted this canon, prompting the Council to reach out to the pope himself. We shall now see how Pope Leo responded to Canon 28.
Throughout this series, we’ve seen how history has been manipulated in order to support a false narrative about Papal Roman Primacy. But this kicks into overdrive with Leo, who blatantly engaged in outright fraud. Let’s discuss that now.
Leo’s Deceit
After passing Canon 28, the Roman contingent naturally raised a fuss about it. You can read about it here:
Lucentius the most reverend bishop and legate of the Apostolic See, said:
Aëtius, the archdeacon of the most holy Church of Constantinople, said:
Bonifacius, a presbyter and vicar of the Apostolic See, said:
And he read from the chart,
The most glorious judges said:
Here we have a furious disagreement between the Roman contingent and the Eastern bishops. Lucentius, the legate of Rome, accused the Council of Chalcedon of completely ignoring the canons of the Council of Nicaea. Rome further accused them of only using the Canons of the Council of Constantinople, which Rome denied were canonically binding.
Even worse, according to the somewhat conflicting Greek account, Rome accused the Council of Constantinople adding its own decrees to the earlier canons, pretending that the decrees of Calcedon were defined within the Canons of the Councils of Nicaea and Constantinople.
It is manifest that the present decrees have been added to the decrees of the 318 and to those of the 150 after them, decrees not received into the synodical canons, these things they pretend to be defined. If therefore in these times they used this benefit what now do they seek which according to the canons they had not used?
These accusations are, frankly, a bit wild and confusing. But what isn’t wild and confusing is that the Nicaean precedent was at the very heart of the issue. Rome had accused the Eastern bishops of ignoring the true text of the Council of Nicaea and putting its own Canons in its place (whether literally or figuratively).
When questioned about why he was hurling these accusations, the Roman presbytr responded by saying that Leo had commanded them to defend the “rulings of the holy fathers” from violation, diminishment, and usurpation. This clarified the seriousness of the charges made by Roman contingent against the Eastern bishops.
So there was only one thing to be done:
Or, as I like to say…
As we continue, always keep in mind that Rome accused the Eastern bishops of violating, diminishing, and usurping the Canons of the Council of Nicaea. Below, I want you to evaluate the evidence that the two parties presented and then, at the conclusion, revisit the accusation with a determination of guilt and innocence.
The Canons of Nicaea
Before we share what happened next—and it will blow your mind—let’s quickly review the original reading of Nicaea’s Canons 6 and 7:
Canon 6: Let the ancient customs in Egypt, Libya and Pentapolis prevail, that the Bishop of Alexandria have jurisdiction in all these, since the like is customary for the Bishop of Rome also. Likewise in Antioch and the other provinces, let the Churches retain their privileges. And this is to be universally understood, that if any one be made bishop without the consent of the Metropolitan, the great Synod has declared that such a man ought not to be a bishop. If, however, two or three by way of opposition dissent from the common vote of the rest, it being reasonable and in accordance with the ecclesiastical law, then let the vote of the majority prevail.”
Canon 7: Since custom and ancient tradition have prevailed that the Bishop of Jerusalem should be honoured, let him, saving its due dignity to the Metropolis, have the next place of honour.
This is what they were arguing over. Rome claimed that the Eastern bishops had disregarded it and fraudulently placed its own canons over the Nicaean ones. But truth, as they say, is stranger than fiction. Here is what happened next:
Paschasinus, the most reverend bishop and representative [of Rome], read: Canon Six of the 318 holy fathers,
Canon 6: The Roman Church has always had the primacy. Let Egypt therefore so hold itself that the bishop of Alexandria have the authority over all, for this is also the custom as regards the bishop of Rome. So too at Antioch and in the other provinces let the churches of the larger cities have the primacy. And one thing is abundantly clear, that if any one shall have been ordained bishop contrary to the will of the metropolitan, this great synod has decreed that such an one ought not to be bishop. If however the judgment of all his own [fellows] is reasonable and according to the canons, and if two or three dissent through their own obstinacy, then let the vote of the majority prevail.
Canon 7: For a custom has prevailed, and it is an ancient tradition, that the bishop of Jerusalem be honoured, let him have his consequent honour, but the rights of his own metropolis must be preserved.
Constantine, the secretary, read from a book handed him by Aëtius, the archdeacon [of Constantinople]; Canon Six of the 318 holy Fathers.
Canon 6: Let the ancient customs prevail, those of Egypt, so that the bishop of Alexandria shall have jurisdiction over all, since this also is the custom at Rome. Likewise at Antioch and in the rest of the provinces, let the rank (πρεσβεῖα) be preserved to the churches. For this is absolutely clear that if anyone contrary to the will of the metropolitan be ordained bishop, such an one the great synod decreed should not be a bishop. If however by the common vote of all, founded upon reason, and according to the canons, two or three moved by their own obstinacy, make opposition, let the vote of the majority stand.
Now take a few minutes to compare the original to the copy presented by the Roman contingent and the copy presented by the Eastern bishops. I’ve placed the most important parts in bold. Then, take a moment or two to fully appreciate what just happened.
Now, take a deep breath.
Canon 6 of Nicaea
Before we discuss the version of the Canon presented by Rome, let’s reread what we already talked about in the last part:
But the absurdity of all this is plain by the words of this Canon: the “logic” employed by this Canon was that Patriarchal authority and jurisdiction corresponds to a city’s size and political sway rather than to being founded by an Apostle and recognized as such from the start (see End Note #3). Such is a perfect demonstration of what political pressure is capable of, but Catholics know secular powers never trump the powers of Christ and His Church.
But, it was Rome itself that had inserted these very words right into Canon 6 of the Council of Nicaea, right onto the lips of the “holy fathers”:
So too at Antioch and in the other provinces let the churches of the larger cities have the primacy.
After what McCready had written, I, too, was dumbfounded when I read this.
Out of Milan and Rome, can you guess which city was the larger one in the Diocese of Italy? Can you guess which one was the largest city in the whole of the Western Roman Empire? But, you already know the answer, don’t you? It’s obvious why Rome would want the churches of the larger cities to have the primacy in their respective Dioceses.
The real Canon 6 of Nicaea established that both Rome and Alexandria were the lesser jurisdictions within their respective Dioceses. But the fraudulantly doctored one that Leo supply somehow magically said exactly the opposite. Isn’t that mighty politcally convenient?
Rome itself was arguing that a city’s authority and jurisdiction should correspond to its size and political sway (at least when it came to Rome). Like the Leopards Eating Faces Party, Rome had been voting for leopards eating faces for decades and was suddenly surprised when its own face got eaten.
The self-defeating nature McCready’s case—where he accuses the Eastern bishops of doing what, in reality, Rome was plainly guilty of doing in the West—is, frankly, quite astounding. I can only presume a second time that he didn’t even read the document he was commenting on. What else on earth would possess McCready to say this…
But the absurdity of all this…that Patriarchal authority and jurisdiction corresponds to a city’s size and political sway
…in defense of Rome, when the very document he was discussing shows that Rome fraudulently added this…
So too at Antioch and in the other provinces let the churches of the larger cities have the primacy.
…passing it off as as the authoritative text of a Canon of Nicaea while simultaneously accusing Rome’s opponents of violating and usurping the Canons of Nicaea? Can you imagine how much political power Rome had abused in order to pull off a stunt like this? And, to be perfectly clear, Leo did pull it off.
The very next year, Leo wrote Letter 106 to rebuke Anatolius, the Bishop of Constantinople. And what did he do? He lectured Anatolius about corrupting the Canons of Nicaea:
Accordingly these things which are found to be contrary to those most holy canons are exceedingly unprincipled and misguided. This haughty arrogance tends to the disturbance of the whole Church, which has purposed so to misuse a synodal council, as by wicked arguments to over-persuade, or by intimidation to compel, the brethren to agree with it, when they had been summoned simply on a matter of Faith, and had come to a decision on the subject which was to engage their care. For it was on this ground that our brothers sent by the Apostolic see, who presided in our stead at the synod with commendable firmness, withstood their illegal attempts, openly protesting against the introduction of any reprehensible innovation contrary to the enactments of the Council of Nicæa. And there can be no doubt about their opposition, seeing that you yourself in your epistle complain of their wish to contravene your attempts. And therein indeed you greatly commend them to me by thus writing, whereas you accuse yourself in refusing to obey them concerning your unlawful designs, vainly seeking what cannot be granted, and craving what is bad for your soul’s health, and can never win our consent. For may I never be guilty of assisting so wrong a desire, which ought rather to be subverted by my aid, and that of all who think not high things, but agree with the lowly.
These holy and venerable fathers who in the city of Nicæa, after condemning the blasphemous Arius with his impiety, laid down a code of canons for the Church to last till the end of the world, survive not only with us but with the whole of mankind in their constitutions; and, if anywhere men venture upon what is contrary to their decrees, it is ipso facto null and void; so that what is universally laid down for our perpetual advantage can never be modified by any change, nor can the things which were destined for the common good be perverted to private interests; and thus so long as the limits remain, which the Fathers fixed, no one may invade another’s right but each must exercise himself within the proper and lawful bounds, to the extent of his power, in the breadth of love; of which the bishop of Constantinople may reap the fruits richly enough, if he rather relies on the virtue of humility than is puffed up with the spirit of self-seeking.
Look at how Leo the Liar rebukes Anatolius over the very thing that Leo himself was guilty of doing: subverting the “universally laid down” canons of Nicaea that could… ahem…. “never be modified by any change.”
Can you guess what happened next? In Letter 132, Anatolus capitulated, confessing his sin and submitting himself to Leo’s judgment.
So, does Leo sound like someone who had a little or a lot of political sway? Let’s see. Leo corrupted the Canons of Nicaea, got caught lying about it, doubled down on it, and then got one of his major political opponents to figuratively bow down before him by accepting a rebuke based specifically on that lie. Political power, indeed.
Canon 7 of Nicaea
So far we’ve only talked about that one alteration regarding the size of cities with respect to primacy. But Leo changed something else. Here is the original…
Canon 7: Since custom and ancient tradition have prevailed that the Bishop of Jerusalem should be honoured, let him, saving its due dignity to the Metropolis, have the next place of honour.
…and here is Rome’s altered version:
Canon 7: For a custom has prevailed, and it is an ancient tradition, that the bishop of Jerusalem be honoured, let him have his consequent honour, but the rights of his own metropolis must be preserved.
At Nicaea, what Alexandria, Jerusalem, and Rome all had in common was that they were a metropolis within a civil Roman Diocese that had a more prominent chief Metropolis ruling ecclesiastically over the whole of the Diocese. In the case of Alexandra and Jerusalem, that was Antioch in the Diocese of Oriens. In the case of Rome, that was Milan in the Diocese of Italy.
What Nicaea had done for Jerusalem was to recognize that, it would be given some honor due to its status. It would be given the next—second—place[1] (after the Metropolitan of Oriens in Antioch[2], just as the council had just finished doing with Alexandria in the previous Canon. Both were modeled after the example of Rome (placed after the Metropolitan of Italy in Milan).
Wikipedia affirms:
On a whim, I asked ChatGPT—which has a significantly pro-Catholic early church bias—what “saving” meant in Canon 7 and (without prompting) it responded with this meaning (bold is original):
The Bishop of Jerusalem is to receive special honor, but this should not infringe on or diminish the rightful status and authority of the Metropolitan bishop of the province.
While ChatGPT should have said “diocese” rather than “province” to be historically accurate, it did correctly deduce that the “saving” (or reserving) of honor applied to the Metropolitan, not to Jerusalem.
In the original Canon 7, Jerusalem is to be given rights while saving (or preserving) the existing rights of the Metropolitan of Oriens. In the church that was the Bishop of Antioch. So even though Jerusalem was a Roman metropolis in its own right (just like Alexandria and Rome), it would not be afforded the rights of chief Metropolitan in the church, for as the councils and early writers affirmed, there could only be one within a single civil unit.
But, Rome had altered Canon 7 in an ambiguous way to make it seem as if maybe Jerusalem was the metropolis whose rights were being honored and preserved (i.e. it was “his own”). The reference to its secondary status under the separate chief metropolis had vanished. The meaning had been altered completely.
Rome’s Strategy
Under Nicaea, the “primacy” resided with the Metropolitan of Milan and the Metropolitan of Antioch, with “secondary” consideration for Alexandria, Jerusalem, and, of course, Rome:
| Nicean Rank | Metropolis |
|---|---|
| Primary | Antioch |
| Primary | Milan |
| Secondary | Alexandria |
| Secondary | Rome |
| Secondary | Jerusalem |
Then, during the Council of Constantinople in 381, nearly 60 years after the Council of Nicaea, Canon 3 attempted (allegedly) to put Constantinople—New Rome—in the place of Rome:
| Constantinople Rank | Metropolis |
|---|---|
| Primary | Antioch |
| Primary | Milan |
| Secondary | Alexandria |
| Secondary | Rome Constantinople |
| Secondary | Jerusalem |
At the very least, the council had unambiguously elevated Constantinople to secondary status.
The very next year in 382, nearly 70 years before the Council of Chalcedon, Rome responded with its own Council:
3. Therefore first is the seat at the Roman church of the apostle Peter ‘having no spot or wrinkle or any other [defect]’.
However the second place was given in the name of blessed Peter to Mark his disciple and gospel-writer at Alexandria, and who himself wrote down the word of truth directed by Peter the apostle in Egypt and gloriously consummated [his life] in martyrdom.
Indeed the third place is held at Antioch of the most blessed and honourable apostle Peter, who lived there before he came to Roma and where first the name of the new race of the Christians was heard.
Rome now had a very different—and very ambitious—idea than the original one in Nicaea and the one suggested at Constantinople the year before.
| Roman Rank | Metropolis |
|---|---|
| First | Rome |
| Second | Alexandria |
| Third | Antioch |
This would prove to be the origin of Papal Primacy, but it would take many decades to develop. Notice how, at the stroke of a pen, it inverts the previous Nicaean ranking, moving Antioch from the top to the bottom and conveniently leaving everyone else out.
Unfortunately for Rome, this argument would not gain enough traction. So, in 451—with the fraudulent alterations of the Nicean Canons in hand—Rome would now claim that Alexandria and Jerusalem were exalted over Antioch because the former were extra special cities, specifically singled out for honor, just like Rome was (supposedly) exalted over Milan due to Rome’s extra special and honorable status.
But, in order to elevate itself and its ally Alexandria while avoiding making Jerusalem a new political threat, Rome needed something else: the size of the cities. When you add in the alterations made—by Rome at the Council of Chalcedon—to Nicaean Canon 6 (regarding the size of the cities) to the alterations to Nicaean Canon 7 (regarding extra special metropolises), all of the sudden the cities rank as follows:
| Rank | Metropolis | 5th Century Population |
|---|---|---|
| First | Rome | 500,000–800,000 |
| Second | Alexandria | 300,000–500,000 |
| Third | Antioch | 200,000–300,000 |
| — | Milan | 75,000–150,000 |
| — | Jerusalem | 30,000–80,000 |
Rome had fraudulently altered the Canons of Nicaea to make it seem as if the ranking was Rome first, Alexandria second, Antioch third, and with Milan and Jerusalem in a place of irrelevance. This conveniently placed Rome’s strongest competition down below and itself and its strongest ally at the top.
Of course there was nothing new about this particular ordering. As we just saw, in 382, Rome had used the Three Petrine Sees argument to assert exactly that same arrangement. Thus, this idea of “city size = prominence” didn’t didn’t spring out of nowhere at Chalcedon in 451. This ordering had been Rome’s key political strategy for decades. City size was just another contrivance to get Rome the same ordering as before (with Rome first place, of course).
So why did Rome need a new strategy? The answer is obvious: Constantinople. Because of Canon 3 of the ecumenical Council of Constantinople, Rome had clearly lost the argument that Constantinople didn’t deserve equality with Rome, so it needed something else. Now, guess what happens when you add Constantinople to the list (ranked by city size)?
| Rank | Metropolis | 5th Century Population |
|---|---|---|
| First | Rome | 500,000–800,000 |
| Second | Constantinople | 400,000–500,000 |
| — | Alexandria | 300,000–500,000 |
| — | Antioch | 200,000–300,000 |
| — | Milan | 75,000–150,000 |
| — | Jerusalem | 30,000–80,000 |
Thus, the church—having adopted Rome’s city size standard—would go on to reinterpret Canon 3 of the Council of Constantinople to claim that Constantinople was second rank to Rome. It was a victory for Rome, but it was also a concession. The Council of Chalcedon could now justify placing Constantinople over three whole Eastern dioceses in Canon 28 (in contravention to Nicaea). But, all of this was the logical endpoint of Rome’s corruption.
All Rome needed was just one more thing to put its rival Constantinople out of the picture permanently, because ultimately this is what Rome wanted:
| Roman Rank | Metropolis |
|---|---|
| First | Rome |
| — | Everyone Else |
Ultimately, this is exactly what Rome got. We’re just here to examine how it happened.
Canon 6 of Nicaea, Revisited
We have been focusing on Leo’s additions and alterations to the Nicaean Canon, but we have not yet even discussed the most egregious one, by far, of them all: the one designed to eliminate the threat of Constantinople, once and for all.
This was a complete and utter fabrication. This phrasing exists in no authentic extant copy or quotation of the Canons of Nicaea in any manuscript. Not even the most biased Roman Catholic sources of the Canons of Nicaea include this line. It is—without any ambiguity at all—not authentic.
The Council of Nicaea had asserted absolutely nothing about the primacy of the Roman Church. Indeed, it had asserted precisely the opposite. Rome had simply inserted this line into the Latin translation of Canon 6 and passed it off as authentic at the Council. In an act of sheer hypocrisy, he did exactly what the Roman contingent accused the Eastern Bishops of the Council of Chalcedon of doing.
Thus, was Papal Roman Primacy manufactured out of nothing through an act of complete and utter fraud. And, as the situation with Anatolius showed, the fraud worked marvelously.
Did you notice how, after Paschasinus read his fraudulent version of the Canon and Aëtius set him straight, that nobody confronted Paschasinus over the wanton act of fraud? They just continued with the proceedings as if Rome had never committed a serious act of fraud.
Rome’s fraudulent version of the Canons of Nicaea were not even contested, let alone corrected. There was simply no way that the error—despite its discovery—was actually going to get corrected. The translations that Rome was using were not going to be replaced by correct ones. Nor were any of the historical decisions based upon those fraudulent Canons going to be reevaluated. More was the future use of such fraud going to be prevented. There was no accountability or liability. Nobody paid any price, so nothing changed. In all of this, you can see why this era of Roman Catholicism was punctuated by the development of numerous novel doctrines.
No one dared to call the Bishop of Rome a liar this time. After all, they knew what happened to men who opposed the Bishop of Rome. They went away. Just ask John of Antioch or (more immediately) Dioscorus.
We’ll let Wikipedia explain why else Leo’s enemies were ultimately forced to meekly and quietly accept his lies without contest:
Leo drew many learned men about him and chose Prosper of Aquitaine to act in some secretarial or notarial capacity. Leo was a significant contributor to the centralisation of spiritual authority within the Church and in reaffirming papal authority. In 450, the Byzantine Emperor Theodosius II, in a letter to Pope Leo I, was the first to call the Bishop of Rome the Patriarch of the West, a title that would continue to be used by the popes through the present days (only interrupted by a brief period between 2006 and 2024).
By 447, he declared that heretics deserved the most severe punishments. The Pope justified the death penalty declaring that if the followers of a heresy were allowed to live, that would be the end of human and Divine law.
Remember that one of the key accusations about Dioscorus at the Council of Chalcedon was heresy. In pushing for a charge of heresy, Leo was not-so-subtly pushing for the death penalty for the man who had excommunicated Leo. As we saw, he clearly didn’t have the votes to gain the approval of the church, but that’s the kind of man we are talking about.
Correcting Leo’s Error
As supposedly alleged here, the first time Leo’s corruption of the Nicaean Canons was called out was a thousand years later in the 16th century, when Jacques Almain—a French professor and theologian who died in 1515—explicitly noted the Roman Church’s tampering of that specific canon text (and the “semper habuit primatum” clause in particular) in his work “Libellus de auctoritate ecclesiae seu sacrorum conciliorum,” a response to Papal apologist Cardinal Thomas Cajetan (who, himself, responded here). This was just prior to the start of the Reformation. Thomas would shortly become the chief spokesperson for church opposing the teachings of Luther.
Given the importance of Papal authority to the Reformation—and Luther’s attacks on papal authority—covering this historical footnote in more detail would be an interesting research project for an aspiring and ambitious student.
Suffice it to say, Thomas Cajetan, like Leo before him, could not have been unaware that Papal Primacy was based on fraud when he confronted Luther during the Reformation. What role did Rome’s further knowing and willing perpetuating of that lie have in those early days of the Reformation?
As it stands to this day, only a small number of (mostly) Protestants have pointed this out.
The Apiarius Affair
Now we must point this out: Leo did not become a deceitful liar at the Council of Chalcedon. He was one long before he became Bishop of Rome, following directly in the footsteps of his predecessor Zosimus during the situation with Apiarius.
What becomes clear on review of the history of the debacle—from the invalid appeal of presbyter Apiarius of Sicca, through Leo’s affirmation of Chalcedon—is that in Rome, the canons of Sardica were hopelessly conflated with the canons of Nicæa. Even after a stern and well-documented rebuttal to Zosimus’ overtures, Rome had stunningly opted to allow the conflation, and took advantage of the resulting confusion by treating as one, two councils that had been convened eighteen years apart.
What is also evident is that Leo cannot possibly have been ignorant of the impropriety of the conflation, or the fraud that was being perpetrated upon the world by the deceptive historical revision. Leo was a high-ranking clergyman in Rome throughout the entire affair, and was a man of great political and ecclesial accomplishment. One does not arrive at that point completely ignorant of the complaint the Africans had made against his predecessor Zosimus, or of the sound canonical grounds upon which they based their objections.
We therefore agree with the summary of Charles Gore in his analysis of Leo:
Pope Leo was guilty of intentional conflation of the canons of Sardica and Nicæa, and knew full well what he was doing. Gore concludes, justifiably:
Gore continues:
Leo had the motive. He had criminal intent, being fully aware of what he was doing. He established a modus operandi, committing the same crime on multiple occasions throughout his life.
Leo was a liar and a hypocrite who knowingly perpetuated a grave fraud. This fraud has had a profound consequence on the church for 1500 years (and counting).
Back to the Council of Chalcedon
Before we finish up, I want highlight a few more of the anomalies and injustices instituted at the Council of Chalcedon, at the behest of Rome, that we didn’t discuss in part 5.
Dioscorus didn’t attend his own trial because it was a show trial in which he was presumed guilty and would have had no way to defend himself. Avoiding the trial was literally the only tool he—and his supporters—had to oppose the decision.
session for their collaboration with Dioscorus at Ephesus II.
…
These absences [of the deposed bishop’s groups], which add up to almost 90, constitute a large body of clergy alienated by the proceedings of the council.
Session I had managed to alienate a quarter—25%— or more of the bishops in attendance, most of which did not attend the Session III trial because they would have been forced to vote against Dioscorus in the show trial:
Note how, when delivering their verdicts, all the bishops follow Paschasinus’ lead in referring to Dioscorus as ‘formerly bishop’: once the chairman had spoken, the sentence took immediate effect. Bishop Leontius of Magnesia delivered his verdict in the following terms:
The bishops had no option but to follow the lead of their chairman. Those who were unwilling to condemn Dioscorus simply absented themselves from the session. The implication of this strict conformism is that open disagreement could not be tolerated because there would have been no clear way of resolving it. There was clearly no principle of decision by majority vote: conciliar decisions were made by consensus, and consensus was understood to require the agreement of all the bishops present. The chairman would take account of the views of the bishops; but once he had pronounced his verdict, the role of the council fathers was simply to confirm it.
The result of the trial was predetermined by Rome, the votes were coerced, and those who absolutely wanted a different result (arguably around half of the body of Bishops) were forced to stay out of the proceedings. Everyone else, whether they wanted to or not, had to go along with it. There was literally no other option but for the Bishops present to confirm what had already been decided before they were permitted to speak.
It was clearly desirable that as many as possible of these [90 followers of the excommunicated Bishops] should be brought back on board: this was achieved at the following fourth session in which the suspended bishops (apart, of course, from Dioscorus) were reinstated at the price of signing Leo’s Tome.
Ultimately most of those who were excommunicated caved into pressure and signed Leo’s Tome—as an implicit sign of allegiance and oath of loyalty—in order for the excommunications to be rescinded. After a few days of excommunication and a show of raw power by Rome, their resistance had crumbled utterly. So absurd is McCready’s claim…
…in light of the fact that Rome and the Emperor had to threaten excommunication in order to force—at minimum—a quarter of the bishops in attendance to sign it.
The utter offensiveness of Rome’s actions is not hard to understand:
What were the offences that were supposed to justify the severity of the verdict? There was no formal reading of a list of charges, and no summing up at the end. It was not felt necessary for the bishops to define the offences of which they judged Dioscorus to be guilty, and most of them restricted themselves to enunciating a bare sentence of deposition. So what precisely was he condemned for?
…
In all, the bishops who pronounced Dioscorus’ condemnation, or signed it subsequently, agreed, explicitly or implicitly, that he had committed offences that merited the severe penalties of deposition and excommunication. They did not, however, express a common mind as to which of Dioscorus’ offences were proved and deserved this penalty. The injustice of a judicial procedure where the precise charges on which someone is condemned are left undefined needs no underlining.
It is no wonder, then, that the Council of Chalcedon struck back obliquely with their Canon 28. It was the best they could do. It certainly got the attention of the Bishop of Rome, but if they thought they could beat Rome, they were badly mistaken.
Yes, you read that right. The verdict, not the charges, was read—by the legate of Rome—before it was voted upon. Thus was the presumption of guilt made explicit.
Here are a few of the specific charges given by a few of the Bishops present:
General references to crimes (beyond, that is, not heeding a threefold summons) or to Dioscorus having betrayed a bad conscience (which implies crimes) occur frequently – in a good number of the bishops’ verdicts and in all the conciliar letters.
Specific crimes also receive some, though less frequent, mention:
1. Receiving Eutyches back into communion even before Ephesus II had revoked the decisions of the Home Synod of 448 was brought up by Paschasinus, by one of the other bishops (96.13), and in the letter to Marcian.
…
3. Dioscorus’ not permitting the reading of Leo’s Tome at Ephesus was specified as a crime in Paschasinus’ verdict and in the letters to Marcian and Pulcheria.
4. Dioscorus’ excommunication of Pope Leo just before Chalcedon was mentioned by Paschasinus and in the letter to Marcian.
…
6. His reinstatement of bishops condemned by provincial councils is mentioned, without any particulars, by Paschasinus.
Of the six specific crimes that Price & Gaddis note were mentioned by some bishops as examples of Dioscorus’ crimes, four of them came from the Roman legate. By and large, the purpose of the trial was for Rome to condemn Dioscorus and force everyone (as necessary) to agree with it.
What Leo did was unconscionable, but in excommunicating a man without consensus in a blatant show trial…
The fact that out of around 370 council members only around 200 turned up for the third session speaks clearly of a lack of enthusiasm among the bishops for Dioscorus’ trial and deposition, as does the fact that the subsequent drumming up of signatures achieved only mediocre results. It is manifest that the condemnation of Dioscorus failed to win consensus. The great majority of the bishops accepted the government policy of undoing the work of Ephesus II and acclaiming the Tome of Leo; they had certainly abandoned the cause of Dioscorus; but the vindictive condemnation of the turbulent priest was not a popular measure.
…such lawlessness is exactly what you get when you have a fascist “argument from authority” legal system that rules with a presumption of guilt and a belief that “open disagreement could not be tolerated.”
In light of the vast abrogation of justice instigated by Rome, no one in their right mind should ever look at the Council of Chalcedon and comment:
Only a Roman Catholic could look at Rome’s actions and say:
Everyone else is horrified.
In the next and final part of the series, we’ll see McCready discuss Leo. As we read what he says together, we’ll see how much (if anything) of the above he discloses. I suspect very little, if anything. Unlike earlier in the series, I no longer have a sense of anticipation of what is to come.
Footnotes
[1] As I noted in Part 3, the Greek preposition “meta” used in the Canon 3 of the Council of Constantinople:
This same preposition is also used in Canon 7 of the Council of Nicaea:
A casual observer might conclude that these both refer to relative rank. But, I argue that μετά in Canon 3 indicates positional succession—as in inheritance, replacement, or movement—while in Canon 7 it reflects a decreasing order, that is, a subordinate ranking. The distinction lies in the Greek grammatical construction of each canon.
In Nicaea’s Canon 7, the focus is on the type of honor granted. Let’s call this “after-honor,” since the comparison is built into the noun phrase itself which serves as the object of the verb. Functioning substantivally (as a noun), the phrase reads like “the next—second—place of honor.” This implies a hierarchical ordering, in which Jerusalem’s honor is clearly secondary to the honor of Antioch (which had been explicitly established in Canon 6).
By contrast, in Constantinople’s Canon 3, uses a simple prepositional phrase (“after the Bishop of Rome”). The resulting comparison is not focused on the nature of the honor, but rather on who (or where) the honor follows. Functioning adverbially, the phrase modifies the verbal idea (“to have”) of possessing honor. This grammatical shift frames the relationship as not one of subordinate rank, but rather a matter of relative position (e.g. physical; temporal). Constantinople clearly has honor “after” Rome, but this is not framed as an intrinsically descending (or ascending) scale. Rather it is a positional comparison—of temporal and/or geographical succession (“because it is New Rome”)—not of rank as such.
[2] If Jerusalem was second place (per Canon 7 of Nicaea) and Constantinople was second place (per Canon 3 of Constantinople), then it proves pretty conclusively that “second place” is in relative terms.
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