The Emperor And The Church 324361

Hell Really Exists

Hell Really Exists

Get Instant Access

What does the career of athanasius reveal about the chris-rian church in the Constantinian empire? This essay in historical reconstruction has attempted to understand what Athanasius wrote about his career and why he wrote as he did, and, at the same time, to analyse what he wrote in order to disentangle the true course of events from the subtle misrepresentations with which he deliberately covered and obscured his controversial career. What general inferences may now drawn?1

Perhaps the most striking feature of Athanasius* career is the interpénétration of ecclesiastical and imperial politics. In 345 the western emperor Constans threatened civil war if the eastern emperor Constantius did not agree to accept the restoration of Athanasius and Paul of Constantinople. The threat may have been made more gently and less directly in the winter of 343/4 when Constans sent a letter with the bishops who took the decisions of the Council of Serdica to his brother. But on this earlier occasion Constantius declined to act—and his refusal may be connected with a recent success in his war with Persia. In 345, when Athanasius* replacement in Alexandria died, Constantius yielded to his brother's threats and agreed to allow Athanasius to return to his see, perhaps partly because of the military situation in Mesopotamia: in 346 the Persians besieged the important city of Nisibis for three months. But in 349, as Constans was drawing toward the end of an unpopular reign, the eastern bishops who opposed Athanasius judged the time opportune to remove him again.

The Council of Antioch in 349 cannot have met without imperial permission (or at least acquiescence): the bishops who attended clearly expected Constantius to enforce their renewed deposition, and it seems that the emperor ordered his praetorian prefect Philippus, who had recently arrested Paul in Constantinople and brought him to court, to go to Egypt to apprehend Athanasius. But a sudden political change saved Athanasius. Magnentius was proclaimed emperor in Gaul, Constans was killed, and the usurper made himself master of the whole of the western empire. Magnentius wrote to Paul and Athanasius seeking their support. Paul was killed in prison in remote Cucusus in Cappadocia, but Constantius decided that he must conciliate Athanasius, who was still very much in control of Alexandria. He wrote to assure him of his goodwill, and promised to maintain him in office permanently.

With the defeat of Magnentius at the Battle of Mursa in 351, and still more with his retreat from Italy in 352 and his death in Gaul in 353, Constantius could revert to his earlier policy. The Council of Sirmium in the autumn of 351 on the one hand condemned Athanasius, Marcellus of Ancyra, and Photinus of Sirmium, and on the other propounded a creed of which Athanasius and (as it turned out) the vast majority of western bishops disapproved. When Constantius gained control of Italy, Gaul, and Spain, he attempted to secure acceptance of the decisions of the Council of Sirmium throughout the West: he convened councils in Aries in 353/4 and Milan in 355, and when few eastern bishops attended (no more than thirty or forty on either occasion), he sent imperial officials with copies of the synodical letters, which incorporated the decisions of the Council of Sirmium, to be subscribed by the local bishops individually in their own cities.

This constant involvement of Constantius in the affairs of the Christian church is only imperfectly reflected in the ecclesiastical historians of the fifth century, and is seriously obscured by Ammianus Marcellinus, whose full and often first-hand account survives of the period from the death of Magnentius in 353 to the death of Valens in 378 and its immediate aftermath. Ammianus enjoys a very high reputation as a historian capable of impartiality, who both understood the world in which he lived and faithfully recorded its main features for posterity.2 There is much that is valid and correct in that assessment, yet a deep and insidious bias can be detected in Ammianus when he writes about Christianity. Ammianus does indeed make favorable remarks about the religion and its humble practitioners, but in virtually every case the favorable comment has the literary function of emphasising a criticism in the immediate context—and of surreptitiously demonstrating the author's fairness and impartiality.3

The extant books of Ammianus' Res Gestae give what purports to be a complete account of the significant political and military activities of the emperor Constantius from the end of the last campaign against Magnentius in the summer of 353 to his death eight years later (3 November 361). During this period, Ammianus records neither Constantius' presence at any of the several councils for which he was at hand nor the disaffection produced by his attempt to secure compliance with the decisions of the Councils of Sirmium, Aries, and Milan. He does, it is true, allude to a council which had deposed Athanasius in his notice of the arrest of Liberius in 355 'for resisting imperial orders and the decrees of very many of his colleagues.'4 But this account of the arrest of Liberius raises serious questions about his treatment of Athanasius. Ammianus introduces Athanasius as if he had never mentioned him before5—which implies that his account of the 340s omitted the Council of Serdica altogether and achieved the difficult feat of describing the dealings between Constantius and Constans after the council without ever mentioning the bishop of Alexandria. No less disturbing is Ammianus' clear implication that the main charge against Athanasius in the 350s was that of employing illicit divination—the only precise crime specified besides vague charges of harboring improper ambitions and 'other things abhorrent to the rule of the law over which he presided.' Moreover, Ammianus sets the arrest in an incomplete and misleading historical context. He states that Constantius wished to secure Liberius' subscription to the synodical verdict against Athanasius because of the prestige of his see ('the more powerful authority of the bishop of the eternal city'): he makes no mention of the Councils of Aries and Milan, no mention of any attempt to compel other western bishops to accept the deposition of Athanasius, and no mention of any doctrinal dispute.

Ecclesiastical politics also impinged on imperial appointments during the reign of Constantius. The most explicit evidence concerns the career of the Cappadocian Philagrius. Before Athanasius could be removed from his see in 339, it was necessary to ensure that there be a compliant prefect in office who would make no attempt to protect the bishop: accordingly, Philagrius, who had been prefect in 335, when he assisted the special commission from the Council of Tyre in its investigations, was reappointed in the summer or autumn of 338 and served as prefect of Egypt until 340. Two subsequent appointments are known for Philagrius: as a comes in 343, he supervised the contingent of eastern bishops who came to the Council of Serdica, and as vicarius of Pontica in 351, he was in charge of the exiled Paul of Constantinople.6

A general tendency for Constantius to appoint Christians of a particular type to high office can also be detected. Constantius showed a clear preference for Christians over pagans as consuls and praetorian prefects, both offices conferring nobility on a family in perpetuity.7 Between 337 and 361 the only ordinary consuls who arc certainly known to be pagans held office in the West: most were nominated by Constans before 350, while one was appointed by Constantius in 355 as a reward for dynastic loyalty, and perhaps as consolation for his extrusion from the consulate of 338 to which Constantine had designated him.8 A similar pattern can be detected among praetorian prefects: Constantius appointed only one pagan to this office in the East (in the late 350s).9 Among Christians, moreover, Constantius gave preference to those who shared his theological inclinations, and his policy was so marked that one modern analysis of his praetorian prefects concludes that 'religious intolerance in part dictated the choice of imperial administrators.'10

At a more fundamental level, the career of Athanasius reveals significant facts about the power structure of the Roman Empire. In 350, Constantius decided that he could not risk a civil war in which the bishop of Alexandria might support a challenger to his rule, and Valens made the same calculation in 365/6

when confronted with the rebellion of Procopius in Constantinople. In 356, when Constantius attempted to arrest Athanasius, he was unable to apprehend him. Imperial officials, generals, and troops could prevent Athanasius from performing his normal functions as bishop in the city of Alexandria, and they could sometimes install a rival as bishop in his place, but they were unable to lay hands on Athanasius himself or to eliminate him as a political factor. In 339, Athanasius had escaped to Italy: after 356, he remained at liberty in Alexandria itself, then in the Egyptian countryside until the death of Constantius. Under Julian, Athanasius was similarly able to evade arrest until it was safe for him to return to Alexandria. And under Valens, when Lucius came to replace him with imperial backing, Athanasius retired into hiding within the city and reemerged when the revolt of Procopius compelled the emperor to acknowledge him as the rightful bishop of Alexandria. It is thus clear that in the middle of the fourth century a Roman emperor did not enjoy complete control over Egypt, where a popular bishop of Alexandria could resist his will successfully and with impunity.

It has often been assumed that the Christian church in the reign of Constantine and his sons was subservient to the emperor. The dominant model in recent scholarship of the relationship between the Christian church and the Roman state in the fourth century has been one which was developed by German scholars, especially by Eduard Schwartz, in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries—and which appears to take its inspiration from the situation of the church in the Germany of Bismarck and Kaiser Wilhelm ILn This model operates with terms such as 'Reichskirche' and 'kaiserliche Synodalgewalt':12 it holds that the emperor not only convened important councils of bishops, but also either presided himself {as he is often imagined to have done at Nicaea in 325)13 or appointed an imperial official to preside in his place (the prime example being the comes Dionysius at the Council of Tyre in 335).14 And it reduces the role of bishops at councils such as Nicaea and Tyre to utter insignificance by assimilating them to members of the imperial consilium, whose advice was not binding on the emperor. Hence, according to this model, all the decisions made at Nicaea were, strictly speaking, decisions of Constantine alone, since he could have disregarded the merely advisory opinions of the bishops whom he had summoned to the council.15

This model has not stood unchallenged. J. N. D. Kelly dismissed as exaggerated Schwartz's view that Constantine imposed on the bishops at Nicaea 'the obligation of finding a formula for the admission of clergy to, or their exclusion from, the new state Church.'16 And Jean Gaudemet elegantly rejected the notion of Caesaropapism as if it were as implausible as the claim (which no one has ever seriously entertained) that the Roman Empire of the fourth century was a theocracy: the relationship between church and state was one of collaboration in which each party had rights and duties of its own to uphold and perform.17 But the protests of Kelly, Gaudemet, and others have failed to impair the continuing wide acceptance of the paradigm laid down by Schwartz, which is still dominant in German scholarly writing about the church in the Constantinian empire and often tacitly, or even explicitly, accepted by scholars of other nationalities.18 It will be worthwhile, therefore, to set out in some detail the model of the relationship between the emperor and bishops which this book partly assumes and partly attempts to establish as valid, and the view which it takes of the status and function of church councils.

In the period between Constantine's conquest of the East in 324 and the accession of Theodosius in 379, neither the emperor nor any of his officials ever presided over or even sat as a member of a council, except in the extraordinary circumstances of 359, when Constantius took an abnormally prominent role in theological debate, a role which had no precedent. In 359 the emperor ordered the bishops of the West and the East to meet at separate councils in Ariminum and Seleucia in order to ratify a creed which had been presented and subscribed in his presence at Sirmium on 22 May, and which thus had his prestige and authority behind it. Hence both the praetorian prefect Taurus at Ariminum and the comes Leonas at Seleucia, acting with Bassidius Lauricius, the governor of Isauria, played an active part in securing the compliance of the assembled bishops with the emperor's wishes. However, the historically significant fact is not that the emperor's will eventually prevailed in 359/60, but that it took the prolonged use of strong-arm tactics and deceit to extort from the bishops an acceptance of the official homoean creed, which was both grudging and temporary.

The test-cases for determining normal practise must be the Council of Nicaea in 325 and the Council of Tyre in 335. In the former case, despite the familiar image of Constantine seated among the bishops and presiding over their discussions, the evidence makes it clear that the emperor was not technically a member of the council at all: he took part in its discussions as an interested layman who was present, but he was not a voting member of the assembly. The council proper comprised bishops, priests, and deacons, and it was presided over by Ossius, the bishop of Corduba. In the latter case, there is prima facie evidence that Dionysius presided: Athanasius says so, and modern scholars have been very reluctant to disbelieve his testimony. But everything Athanasius says about the Council of Tyre must be evaluated carefully, not taken on trust as if his testimony were impartial. Athanasius consistently tried to discredit the Council of Tyre and its verdict against him in every way possible. Yet in his eagerness to document the bias, partiality, and improper procedures of his enemies, he quotes letters exchanged between Dionysius and the bishops at Tyre which show that the comes was not even present at some of the crucial sessions of the council.

In both cases, a distinction must be drawn between the formal opening ceremony and the substantive deliberations of the council. Eusebius of Caesarea attended the Council of Nicaea and has left a brief and tantalising account of the opening ceremony which, though deficient in precise detail, shows that

Constantine played a central role, indeed that the ceremony was to a large degree an act of homage to the emperor by the council.19 At Tyre in 335, the council opened with a ceremony in which the imperial notarius Marianus read aloud a letter from Constantine welcoming the bishops and defining the agenda of the council:20 there is no difficulty or implausibility in holding that Dionysius presided at the opening ceremony, but then put the substantive matters and the conduct of the council wholly in the hands of the bishops.

Councils met both with imperial permission or at imperial command and without any consultation of the emperor and his officials. There had been councils of bishops even in the days when Christianity was a capital crime,21 and there is no hint that pagan emperors were ever asked to grant permission for councils to be held in the late third and early fourth centuries. Alexander convened a council which excommunicated Arius, and Anus* supporters held counter-councils which vindicated him without any reference to Licinius until the emperor prohibited councils of bishops from meeting altogether—which may have been a partisan intervention inspired by Eusebius of Nicomedia. It was entirely predictable, therefore, that this long-standing practise should continue under Christian emperors, and there were numerous councils between 324 and 361 which met without seeking imperial permission to do so. The novelty was that after 324 the emperor sometimes summoned a council and set its agenda.

It is not certain that it was Constantine rather than the bishops assembled in Alexandria in the late autumn of 324 who summoned the council which was expected to meet at Ancyra in 325, but it was certainly the emperor who transferred the planned council from Ancyra to Nicaea 22 Moreover, Constantine set at least part of the agenda and subsequently claimed credit for some of the decisions in which he had participated just as if he were a bishop. For some later councils in his reign, it seems certain that Constantine both summoned the bishops to meet and defined their agenda (which did not prevent them from discussing other matters too)—and on occasion compelled the attendance of both bishops and other interested parties. A papyrus shows the compulsion used to secure attendance at the Council of Tyre in 335, and it was Constantine who both ordered a council to meet at Caesarea in Palestine in 334 to try Athanasius for murder and canceled the council when Athanasius convinced him that the charge was false. Constantine also took the initiative in summoning councils of bishops to meet in Nicomedia in 327/8, in Jerusalem in 335, and in Constantinople in 336: he attended the Council of Nicomedia in December 327 or January' 328; he ordered the bishops assembled at Tyre to adjourn to Jerusalem to dedicate the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in September 335, requesting them again to readmit Arius to communion; and he attended the Council of Constantinople in 336, which condemned Marcellus of Ancyra.

On the other hand, it is not necessary to suppose that the bishops who met at Antioch in 327 and deposed Eustathius and other bishops in Syria, Phoenice, and Palestine sought imperial permission before they met. And the councils of Alexandria in 338 and 352, which pronounced Athanasius innocent of the charges on which he had been condemned and deposed, clearly assembled in defiance of the wishes of Constantius, since the councils whose verdicts they disputed had just met with the obvious approval of the emperor, who certainly attended the Council of Sirmium in 351 and probably also the Council of Antioch in early 338. Moreover, Julius did not consult Constans before holding the Council of Rome which exculpated Athanasius and Marccllus in 341: indeed, no bishop of Rome would have seen any need to seek imperial permission to hold a council in Rome under any circumstances. Nor again did Eusebius of Vercellac and Athanasius even consider consulting Julian before they convened the Council of Alexandria in 362.

The agenda of a council might include any or all of three types of business: the adjudication of disputes concerning the status of individuals, the definition of what constituted true doctrine, and disciplinary matters concerning both clergy and laity. Its membership might comprise the bishops of a single province, of several provinces or a region, or, in theory, of the whole empire or whole world. But what if two councils came not merely to different decisions but to opposing ones? The ecclesiastical history of the reign of Constantius provides examples enough of this phenomenon, the clearest cases being the two councils of 338 (Antioch and Alexandria), the two councils of 341 (Antioch again and Rome), and the divided Council of Serdica in 343. There was as yet no agreed procedure for resolving such disputes. Admittedly, the synodical letters and the polemical literature of the middle of the fourth century contain appeals to the ecumenical nature of the Council of Nicaea as endowing its decisions and above all its creed with a supreme and inviolate status,23 and Athanasius frequently argues that the decisions of a council attended by a large number of bishops ought to prevail over the decisions of a council attended by few bishops, but the earliest clear statement of a formal hierarchy subordinating provincial to regional councils and the latter to ecumenical councils occurs at the very end of the century.24

The Council of Nicaea prescribed that the bishops of each province meet twice each year, once in the spring between Easter and Ascension and once in the autumn.25 These councils sometimes transacted important business: it was a provincial council of the bishops of Narbonensis (so it seems) that deposed Hilary of Poitiers in 356, probably with the Caesar Julian on hand, and the Council of Gangra, whose synodical letter became enshrined in later collections of canon law, was probably an assembly of the bishops of the province of Paphlagonia. Nor did a small attendance prevent the decisions of a council from receiving a subsequent imprimatur as an authoritative source of canon law: the preserved lists of subscriptions to the canons of the Council of Ancyra (314) contain the names of twelve or thirteen bishops; those of the Council of Neocaesarea, eighteen; and those of the Council of Antioch in 328, thirty-two in all, while the heading of the synodical letter of the Council of Gangra names fifteen.26

Constantine declared that the decisions of councils of bishops were divinely inspired,27 and he gave them legal force. In recording this enactment, Eusebius states:

He put a seal of approval on the rulings of bishops declared at councils, so that the governors of provinces were not allowed to rescind what they had decided, for he said that the priests of God were more trustworthy than any magistrate.28

Although Eusebius mentions only the duty of provincial governors to respect and enforce the rulings, of church councils, both consistency and Constantine's public pronouncements about the status of the decisions of councils entailed that even the emperor lacked the right to countermand them. That was a startling innovation, since the Roman emperor had traditionally been regarded as the ultimate arbiter of all disputes among his subjects.29 Constantine denied himself the right to try bishops, who could be condemned and deposed only by a council of their peers. He did on occasion conduct a preliminary examination, which could (and sometimes did) result in the dismissal of the accusation and the acquittal of the bishop. But if he found that there was prima facie case, he thereupon convened a council of bishops and submitted the whole matter to them.

Constantine's attested dealings with Athanasius fall into this pattern. It is wrong to describe his hearing of Athanasius at Psammathia in 331/2 as an imperial trial or cognitior30 had Constantine not dismissed the charges as unfounded, he would not have condemned or deposed Athanasius himself, but would have submitted the case to a council of bishops. Similarly, when Athanasius was accused of murdering Arsenius, Constantine ordered the censor Dalmatius to investigate the charge. But he planned no 'trial for murder in Antioch':31 the 'court of the censor' derided by Athanasius was the abortive Council of Caesarea which was instructed to meet in order to render a verdict on the charge of murder. The emperor (or his deputy) merely conducted a preliminary hearing: if he decided that there was a prima facie case against the accused bishop, the matter was then referred to a council of bishops who functioned as the court of both primary and ultimate jurisdiction.

After a bishop had been tried and condemned by his peers, it was both proper and necessary for the emperor to enforce his deposition by means of exile, using force if necessary. That was not in itself an innovation by or under Constantine. There was a precedent in the third century when Paul of Samosata refused to accept his deposition by a Council of Antioch: Christians of Italy, acting on behalf of their colleagues in Syria, submitted a petition to the emperor Aurelian requesting him to compel Paul to surrender the church in Antioch.32 What was new in the Christian empire of Constantine was the automatic enforcement of the decisions of church councils. An Aurelian could have reviewed and reversed the decision of a third-century council: Constantine bound himself in advance to accept and enforce the condemnation of a bishop by his peers meeting as a council. In practise, that did not prevent a deposed bishop like Athanasius (and perhaps Eustathius of Antioch before him) from attempting to persuade the emperor to reconsider his case, but there is only one example between 324 and 361 when a synodicai condemnation was openly reversed by imperial fiat—in 337, when Constantinus issued an edict restoring all the bishops exiled under his father. Significantly, the Council of Antioch in 338/9 regarded this restoration as canonically invalid.

The first exile of Athanasius does not neatly fit into this pattern, since it cannot legitimately be regarded as the automatic enforcement of his condemnation by the Council of Tyre.33 On this occasion, Constantine did not accept the decision of a council. He was persuaded by Athanasius that it had proceeded improperly and unfairly—but before he knew of its verdict. The letter which he wrote to the bishops at Tyre did not overrule their synodicai decision. He commanded them to come to him so that he could ensure fair play: in other words, he felt that he had a duty to guarantee due process and thus to aid the council in reaching a just verdict. But that letter, despite its prominence in Athanasius* account of his exile in 335, was immediately overtaken by events. Constantine rendered it null and void when, after the arrival of two delegations from Tyre, one bringing the council's condemnation of Athanasius, the other protesting that it was unjust, he interviewed Athanasius and sent him to Gaul. That action, however, did not reinstate the condemnation of Athanasius by the Council of Tyre as a valid deposition. The emperor refused to allow the successor whom the council had appointed in his place to become bishop of Alexandria: although he was in exile and debarred from the normal exercise of his episcopal functions, Athanasius was technically still the lawful bishop of Alexandria.

The situation of Athanasius in 335-337 was highly anomalous. In contrast, both his exile in 339 and his flight in 356 fit perfectly into the pattern of deposition by a council followed by imperial enforcement of its verdict. In 339 the decision of the Council of Antioch was put into effect at once. In the 350s more than four years passed before Constantius could enforce the deposition of Athanasius by the Council of Sirmium. But the delay did not alter the legal basis of his supersession. Athanasius* eloquence in his Defense before Constantius should not be allowed to obscure the fact that the Council of Sirmium had deposed him in 351—nor should his eloquence elsewhere be allowed to obscure the fact that he was often condemned by councils of bishops, whose verdicts he steadfastly refused to accept.

Constantine gave bishops important privileges in the new Christian empire. They could act as judges in disputes between Christians by virtue of the newly introduced episcopalis audientiathey could preside over the manumission of slaves in church,35 and they soon began to act regularly as ambassadors in matters of high political import.36 In significant ways the Christian bishop was now outside the normal legal system. Theodosius ruled that bishops could not be compelled to appear as witnesses in court.37 It should not be assumed that this ruling represented an innovation. For the bishop's privilege of trial by his peers, though not explicitly attested until 355, surely goes back to Constantine. On 23 September 355 Constantius wrote to one Severus, whose office is unknown, in the following terms:

By [this] law of our clemency we forbid bishops to be accused in [secular] courts, lest there be an unrestrained freedom for deranged minds to denounce them, in the belief that [false accusations] will not be punished because of the benevolence of the bishops. Accordingly, if anyone at all lodges any complaint [against a bishop], it is appropriate for it to be examined only before other bishops, so that a suitable and convenient hearing be provided for the investigation of all [relevant matters].38

The principle that only a council of his peers could try, condemn, and depose a bishop can be observed in operation in the reign of Constantine, particularly and with the greatest clarity in the case of Athanasius. It also encouraged the formation within the church of coalitions of bishops which functioned much like modern political parties—a broad ideological (or theological) cohesiveness furthered and sometimes hindered by personal ambitions.

Not the least among the privileges which bishops enjoyed was a relative immunity from coercion by secular authorities. No matter what his crime, a bishop could only be deposed and exiled, not legally tortured and executed.39 This encouraged the development of an attitude of independence and even defiance, which was fully fledged by the end of the reign of Constantius and which had clear political implications. Athanasius, Hilary of Poitiers, and Lucifer of Caralis all argue that because Constantius maltreats the church, he is a persecutor and a tyrant who no longer deserves to be emperor.40 By the end of the fourth century Christian orthodoxy had been added to the traditional list of virtues required in a legitimate emperor. Athanasius himself thought through the implications of regarding church and state as opposing entities,41 and it was in the reign of Constantius that the classic antithesis was first voiced in its most familiar form.42

Ossius of Corduba, as quoted by Athanasius in the History of the Arians, begged Constantius to emulate his brother Constans in granting the church real independence:

Stop using force, and do not write or send comités. Release those who have been exiled, so that they do not perform greater deeds of violence because you are accusing them of using violence. What [action] of this sort was ever taken by Constans? What bishop was exiled [by him]?

When did he ever participate in an ecclesiastical decision? What palatine official of his compelled people to subscribe to the condemnation of anyone?

Stop, I beg you, and remember that you are a mortal man: fear the day of judgement and keep yourself pure for it. Do not intrude yourself into the affairs of the church, and do not give us advice about these matters, but rather receive instruction on them from us. God has given you kingship, but has entrusted us with what belongs to the church. Just as the man who tries to steal your position as emperor contradicts God who has placed you there, so too you should be afraid of becoming guilty of a great offense by putting the affairs of the church under your control. It is written: 'Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and unto God those that are God's' (Matthew 22.21). Hence neither do we (bishops) have the right to rule over the world nor do you, emperor, have the right to officiate in church. (Hist. Ar. 44.6-8)4J

Not all Christians took such a favorable view of the ecclesiastical policies of Constans. In 347 there was a violent repression of the schismatic Donatists in Africa. Donatus in fury denounced the emperor's court as the abode of Satan and asked the pointed question which has reverberated through the ages: 'What has the emperor to do with the church?'44

Was this article helpful?

0 0

Responses

  • mateusz
    Who was exile in the council of tyre?
    3 years ago

Post a comment