Fulgentius on the meaning of "all men" whom God desires to save

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DTK

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Fulgentius, an early church writer, north African bishop, and disciple of Augustine, explains the meaning of God's will to save all men, namely that it means not all men without exception, but all men without distinction.

Fulgentius, bishop of Ruspe (c. 467-532): For this reason regarding all those whom God wishes to save, we must understand that we do not think anyone can be saved apart from God who wills it. Further, let us not imagine that the will of the omnipotent God either is not fulfilled or is in any way impeded in certain people. For all whom God wishes to save are unquestionably saved, and they cannot be saved unless God wishes them to be saved, and each person whom God does not will to be saved is not saved, since our God “has done all things that he willed.” Therefore, all are saved whom he wishes to be saved, for this salvation is not born of the human will but is supplied by God’s good will. Nevertheless, these “all men” whom God wishes to save include not the entire human race altogether, but rather the totality of those who are to be saved. So the word “all” is mentioned because the divine kindness saves all kinds from among all men, that is, from every race, status, and age, from every language and every region. In all of these people, this message of our Redeemer is fulfilled where he says, “When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all things to myself.” Now he did not say this because he draws all men whatsoever, but because no one is saved unless he himself draws him. For he also says: “No one can come to me unless the Father who has sent me draws him.” He also says in another place: “Everything that the Father has given me will come to me.” Therefore, these are all the ones whom God wills to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. Fathers of the Church, Vol. 126, Fulgentius of Ruspe and the Scythian Monks, Correspondence on Christology and Grace, trans. Bob Roy McGregor and Donald Fairbairn (Washington D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2013), p. 101. See Epistola XVII in PL 65.
Latin text: Quos omnes homines Deus vult salvos fieri. Per omnes homines non semper totum genus humanum intelligitur.---61. Quocirca illos omnes quos Deus vult salvos fieri, sic intelligere debemus, ut nec aliquem putemus salvum fieri posse nisi voluntate Dei, nec existimemus voluntatem omnipotentis Dei, aut in aliquo non impleri, aut aliquatenus impediri. Omnes enim quos Deus vult salvos fieri, sine dubitatione salvantur, nec possunt salvari, nisi quos Deus vult salvos fieri, nec est quisquam quem Deus salvari velit qui (al. et) non salvetur: quia Deus noster omnia quaecunque voluit fecit. Ipsi omnes utique salvi fiunt, quos omnes vult salvos fieri: quia haec salus non illis ex humana voluntate nascitur, sed ex Dei bona voluntate praestatur. Verumtamen in his omnibus hominibus quos Deus vult salvos facere non totum omnino genus significatur hominum, sed omnium universitas salvandorum. Ideo autem omnes dicti sunt, quia ex omnibus hominibus omnes istos divina bonitas salvat, id est, ex omni gente, conditione, aetate, ex omni lingua, ex omni provincia. In his omnibus ille sermo nostri Redemptoris impletur, quo ait: Cum exaltatus fuero a terra, omnia traham ad meipsum. Quod non ideo dixit, quia omnes omnino trahit, sed quia nemo salvus fit, nisi quem ipse traxerit. Nam et alibi dicit: Nemo potest venire ad me, nisi Pater, qui misit me, traxerit eum. Item alibi: Omne quod dedit mihi Pater ad me veniet.Hi ergo sunt omnes quos vult Deus salvos fieri et ad agnitionem veritatis venire. Epistola XVII, Caput XXXI, §61, PL 65:489.

He goes on to state in the same letter...

Fulgentius, bishop of Ruspe (c. 467-532): These are all those on whom God has mercy because they are preceded by his mercy so that they may believe and be freely saved through faith. The fact that they believe does not take its beginning from the human will, but faith is given to the will itself in accordance with the free generosity of the merciful God. Blessed Paul recorded this distinction between different senses of the word “all” (a distinction that a faithful understanding must preserve completely) at one place in his letter so that even when he says “all men” without noting any exceptions, he might still indicate all men of a certain kind while excluding others. Fathers of the Church, Vol. 126, Fulgentius of Ruspe and the Scythian Monks, Correspondence on Christology and Grace, Fulgentius’s First Letter to the Scythian Monks, trans. Bob Roy McGregor and Donald Fairbairn (Washington D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2013), p. 103.
Latin text: Hi sunt ergo omnes quorum Deus miseretur, quia misericordia ipsius praeveniuntur, ut credant et gratis salvi fiant per fidem. Eorum namque credulitas non ex humana voluntate sumit initium, sed ipsi voluntati fides gratuita Dei miserantis largitate donatur. Hanc omnium discretionem, quam fidelis debet intellectus omnino servare, beatus Paulus uno Epistolae suae loco sic posuit, ut omnes homines sine aliqua exceptione dicens, statim quosdam omnes homines exceptis aliis intimaret. Epistola XVII, Caput XXXI, §64, PL 65:490.

The citations above are simply two examples, but throughout this entire letter Fulgentius explains repeatedly to the Scythian Monks that the word “all” (with respect to those whom God desires to save) means all men without distinction, but not all men without exception.
 
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I note that Fulgentius seems to be sparring with someone, even though we don't know the names of the people who are his interlopers. Question for you, David. I heard from Ligon Duncan that a general rule of thumb when reading the ECF is that when they are responding to heresy, they are generally biblical, but when they are not, watch out! Has this been your experience with the ECF as well?
 
An excellent find, David. I will make a point of sharing these quotes.

I heard from Ligon Duncan that a general rule of thumb when reading the ECF is that when they are responding to heresy, they are generally biblical, but when they are not, watch out!

Speaking from personal experience, I have found myself most likely to err whenever I am trying to interpret scripture myself as opposed to when I am combatting a heresy. For that reason, which, admittedly, is not a very strong one, I am inclined to think that there is something to Ligon Duncan's assertion.
 
I note that Fulgentius seems to be sparring with someone, even though we don't know the names of the people who are his interlopers.
Actually Lane, in this case, I'm able to offer some context for Fulgentius, and will do so when I find the time in the next day or so
I heard from Ligon Duncan that a general rule of thumb when reading the ECF is that when they are responding to heresy, they are generally biblical, but when they are not, watch out!
I always hesitate to speak in generalities with respect to the ECFs, and I do understand why Dr. Duncan would say that. I think it really depends on the genre of a particular father. But who am I to disagree with a man whose doctorate was in patristic studies?
 
Okay, I am posting this follow up response as I promised Lane with a caveat or two. Almost at the beginning, I regretted making him that promise because of the work on my part that became patently obvious at the outset (Never wanted to go into this much detail, and even so conscious of other details that I omitted in order to try to keep this brief). And the second caveat, to which I've already alluded, is that this is far too brief, and being too brief will surely open me up to the hard-nosed critic. But hey, if you don't like it, improve on my explanation of this background and invest some of your own time in the study of it! LOL

At any rate, perhaps as a side benefit, some of us might learn some details about other Christological matters that we never really understood very well; so here goes...and please bear with me, though I classify this as brief, it is not brief for a post in this particular context of the Puritan Board, and I am not going to go back and correct any mis-spellings (getting lazy as I grow old)

Three elements of the controversies that serve as background for the correspondence between the Scythian Monks and Fulgentius in the 6th century
1) The Christological controversies of the 5th century were complicated over the confusion of terms being used by differing conflicting parties. The use of the word physis (φύσις), rendered in today’s English as “nature,” was one such source of confusion and disagreement. Many of the Greek speakers of that day used the term physis in the sense of “personal nature,” and therefore viewed it in the same category as the words/terms hypostasis (ὑπόστασις) and prosopon (πρόσωπον), both of which were also terms used to denote the individual subsistence of Christ, what we would call “person” in English. Other Greek speakers used the word physis (φύσις) as a synonym for the Greek word ousia (οὐσία), the latter of which was used in reference to the innermost aspect of a being and is usually translated as “essence” in English. Theodore of Mopsuestia and Nestorius both used the word physis (φύσις) in the sense of “personal nature,” which led to the charge against him, in his use of two physeis, that Christ was two persons (i.e., the assumed man and God the Son who indwelt him). In like manner, Cyril of Alexandria used the word physis (φύσις) normally in the sense of “personal nature,” which in turn meant that his famous slogan “one incarnate physis of God the Logos” (μίαν φύσιν τοῦ Θεοῦ Λόγου σεσαρκωμένην) referred to the one person of Christ, and therefore not to a single nature as we would use the word “nature” today.

Now, then, to our ears today “two physeis” (Nestorius) seems to sound correct, and “one physis” seems to sound problematic. This is because we are using the word physis to mean “nature” or “inner reality.” But bear in mind, in the 5th century, three of the most central figures (Theodore of Mopsuestia, Nestorius, and Cyril of Alexandria) were all using the word physis (nature) differently from the way we do today, which means that Nestorius’ use of two physeis (= two personal natures, or two persons) was the problematic expression, whereas Cyril’s “one incarnate physis” (= one person) was the more acceptable term to speak of Christ. Thus, the different ways of using the word physis made it difficult both for Christians of that day and for us today to understand what a particular Christological thinker actually meant. [Additional note: There are a number of present day scholars who question whether Nestorius was really guilty of what became to be known as the error of Nestorianism, namely the charge that he claimed Christ to be two persons].

In the year 451, the Council of Chalcedon affirmed that Christ is to be acknowledged in two physeis and that the properties of both physeis come together in a single hypostasis (ὑπόστασις) and a single prosopon (πρόσωπον). By this language, Chalcedon was affirming that hypostasis (ὑπόστασις) and prosopon (πρόσωπον) both refer to the one person of Christ, which was in accordance with early 5th century usage of those words. Chalcedon was therefore declaring that physis (nature) is to be used describe the two natures of Christ, what we know as the hypostatic union of the divine and human natures of Christ. So, in a sense, Chalcedon was forging a relatively new use of the word physis, which had a different meaning from that to which Cyril meant by the term.

To be sure, Cyril of Alexandria had died in the year 444, but this pronouncement by Chalcedon in the year 451 ignited the passions, if not the fury, of Cyril’s most devoted defenders in Egypt and Syria. These defenders of Cyril viewed Chalcedon as using the term physis (nature) to mean “personal nature” and were thus convinced that Chalcedon’s affirmation of two physeis within the one Christ implied that the Logos and the man Jesus were two distinct persons (the heresy of Nestorianism). These defenders of Cyril believed Chalcedon to be rejecting Cyril and affirming a Nestorian view that Christ was two rather than one person.

This also caused problems on the political front as well, because many in the East and the West resented the rising preeminence of Constantinople as a patriarchal see, as differing proponents (or should I say opponents) jousted over the supremacy of one see or another (Antioch, Alexandria, Rome, Constantinple, etc.). As an aside, contrary to Romanist claims, the eastern church NEVER embraced the primacy of the Roman papacy.

2) In the next generation following Chalcedon, the dispute between these fractured parties reached such a point that the Byzantine Emperor Zeno, in a drastic effort to bring unity in the Empire, sought, for all practical terms, to bypass Chalcedon altogether. In the year 482 he published the Henotikon, which was a statement of faith rooted in the work of the first three ecumenical councils (Nicea I - 325, Constantinple I - 381, and Ephesus - 431), without direct reference (positive or negative) to the Council of Chalcedon. Together, the emperor Zeno and Patriarch Acacius of Constantinople sought to use the Henotikon as a basis to bring about imperial unity. However, as such attempts usually go, all of this backfired. Rome immediately broke fellowship with Acacius because he did not directly affirm the authority of Chalcedon (thus producing the so-called “Acacian Schism”). But even in the east, many rejected the Henotikon because it did not directly repudiate Chalcedon. No doubt, from our vantage today we could have predicted that. Several decades of conflict ensued, the debates centering on this or that given see, bishop, or emperor. All of this reminds me of what Gregory of Nazianzus declared about a year after he resigned as the bishop of Constantinople and president of the council that convened there…

Gregory of Nazianzus (329/330-389): To tell you plainly, I am determined to fly every convention of bishops; for I never yet saw a council that ended happily. Instead of lessening, they invariably augment the mischief. The passion for victory and the lust of power (you will perhaps think my freedom intolerable) are not to be described in words. One present as judge will much more readily catch the infection from others than be able to restrain it in them. For this reason, I must conclude that the only security of one’s peace and virtue is in retirement. Epistle 130 - To Procopium. See John Harrison, Whose Are the Fathers? (London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1867), p. 468. Epistola CXXX - ad Procopium, PG 37:225.
Greek text: Ἔχω μὲν οὕτως, εἰ δεῖ τὰληθὲς γράφειν, ὥστε πάντα σύλλογον φεύγειν ἐπισκόπων, ὅτι μηδεμιᾶς συνόδου τέλος εἶδον χρηστὸν, μηδὲ λύσιν κακῶν μᾶλλον ἐσχηκυῖαν ἢ προσθήκην. Ἀεὶ γὰρ φιλονεικίαι καὶ φιλαρχίαι (ἀλλʼ ὅπως μή με φορτικὸν ὑπολάβῃς οὕτω γράφοντα), καὶ λόγου κρείττονες· καὶ θᾶττον ἄν τις ἐγκληθείη κακίαν ἑτέροις δικάζων, ἢ τὴν ἐκείνων λύσειε. Διὰ τοῦτο εἰς ἐμαυτὸν συνεστάλην, καὶ μόνην ἀσφάλειαν ψυχῆς τὴν ἡσυχίαν ἐνόμισα. Epistola CXXX - ad Procopium, PG 37:225.
And in another letter…
Gregory of Nazianzus (329/330-389): We are worn out, striving against envy and consecrated bishops who destroy the common peace (or unity, ὁμόνοιαν) and subordinate the word of faith to their own love of superiority. See John Harrison, Whose Are the Fathers? (London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1867), p. 468.
Greek text: Κεκμήκαμεν ἀγωνιζόμενοι πρὸς τὸν φθόνον καὶ τοὺς ἱεροὺς ἐπισκόπους τὴν κοινὴν ὁμόνοιαν διαλύοντας καὶ τῶν ἰδίων φιλονεικιῶν τὸ τῆς πίστεως πάρεργον ποιουμέ νους. Ad Philagrium, Epistola LXXXVII, PG 37:161.

Following the death of Zeno in 491, the next emperor Anastasius continued to lead the effort to impose Zeno’s Henotikon, rather than Chalcedon, as the standard for imperial unity, but with little or no success.

Then, in the 2nd decade of the sixth century, another factor was introduced to the already tense conflict. A liturgical prayer known as the Trisagion (“Thrice-holy”), which had been used at the opening session of the Council of Chalcedon, and which read, “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us.” But an addition was made to the Trisagion in the year 511 by the new patriarch of Antioch, Peter the Fuller, who added the words “who was crucified for us,” so that the prayer now read, “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, who was crucified for us, have mercy on us.” The focus, then, turned from the Incarnation to the question of who died on the cross, God the Word or some sort of assumed man. The accretion of “who was crucified for us” to the prayer now made clear what was evidently implied previously―that the person who was crucified was one of the three Trinitarian Persons.

Needless to say, this accretion/addition to the Trisagion became the source for a new firestorm of protest, which in turn further polarized the Eastern Empire rather dramatically, the effect of which began a negative response against the party/parties who wanted to circumvent Chalcedon. The new language of the Trisagion, “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, who was crucified for us, have mercy on us,” argued by those who objected to it claimed that it implied the passion/suffering of the entire Trinity on the cross, even though in Antioch (where the new language was added), it was understood that the prayer of the Trisagion was addressed to Christ, therefore making the accretion unobjectionable there.

3) The third element of the historical-theological background to Fulgentius’s correspondence with the Scythian Monks from what is present day Romania was the Western dialog over grace, commonly referred to as the Semi-Pelagian Controversy. This controversy had grown out of the earlier Pelagian Controversy which had by-and-large come to a close in the year 418, when a council in Carthage, a council in Ravenna (the Western imperial court), and “wishy-washly” Pope Zosimus all condemned a number of claims attributed to Pelagius. Augustine was very insistent that God’s grace in saving a person, including his election of a person to salvation, was absolutely free and utterly independent of any human merit. When the news and/or rumors of what Augustine was teaching reached the monastic communities of Gaul, which was a hotbed of disrespect for episcopal authority, the monks there began to murmur and resist the Augustinian understanding of grace. For if election to salvation was not grounded in human merit, then the whole of monastic life was rendered useless, since it involved very intense personal effort to attain spiritual maturity. Augustine responded with some treatises, On Rebuke and Grace, and On the Predestination of the Saints, and exchanged communications with Prosper of Aquitaine and a certain Hilary.
I am skipping over some of the history, for the sake of brevity, but this same Semi-Pelagian Controversy resumed in the year 475, when Faustus of Riez (also in southern Gaul) wrote a treatise titled, Grace, in which he tried to argue for some kind of middle position, which rejected the concept of relying exclusively on God and that of relying completely on one’s own effort. Faustus rejected the Augustinian concept of election/predestination without naming Augustine himself as its proponent. But in his rejection of the Augustinian conception of grace, he addressed a matter of Christology as well. His contention was that just as it is a mistake to argue that Christ was solely human or solely divine, so it is also a mistake to attribute salvation solely to human action or solely by grace. Thus the two natures of Christ, became for Faustus his justification for understanding human salvation to be a product of both divine and human action.

[A note at this point is fitting to bear in mind: A significant factor to point out is that these disputants, unlike our modern day systematic tendencies, linked inseparably their Christology to their understanding of grace in salvation. Twentieth-century scholars have shown the tendency to treat disputes about grace as a separate controversy from the disputes about Christ. Thus, a striking feature of modern secondary literature regarding the Scythian controversy is that Christology and grace are never treated together in the same work. But the editor and one of the translators of the works of Fulgentius, Donald Fairbairn, argues that this characteristic of modern day secondary literature stands in stark contrast to the primary texts themselves which frequently address both doctrines together.].

Donald Fairbairn argues: “If one grants that the Semi-Pelagian Controversy was to a great degree a discussion about whether one should emphasize divine action or human action in one’s discussion of human salvation, then the question of the controversy was basically this: Is God the primary actor in saving mankind, or do we somehow save ourselves with God’s help? One should notice that this question is very similar to the question of the Christological controversy as I have described it above. In both controversies, the complex issues can be reduced (without an egregious degree of oversimplification) to the same alternatives: Either we do not deserve salvation and cannot achieve it ourselves, so God must come down himself to save us; or we are able to rise up to God, and therefore what we need is simply a guide and an enabler, a man indwelt by God the Son in a way similar to the way we can be indwelt by God the Spirit. One may reasonably argue that the ideas of the two controversies have much in common.” See his introduction in Fathers of the Church, Vol. 126, Fulgentius of Ruspe and the Scythian Monks, Correspondence on Christology and Grace, trans. Bob Roy McGregor and Donald Fairbairn (Washington D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2013), pp. 14-15.

Although the treatise of Faustus on Grace did not elicit any overt disapproval from his contemporary monks in Gaul, it produced a strong reaction some forty-five years later when it came to the attention of both the Scythian Monks and Fulgentius. Both the Scythian Monks and Fulgentius recognized the connection between grace and Christology because they saw these as two sides of the same coin. So in the minds of the Scythian Monks (led by John Maxentius) and Fulgentius the two controversies are addressed together in their correspondence with one another. The early sixth-century Theopaschite Controversy was precipitated by the introduction and addition of the language “who was crucified for us” into the Trisagion in the year 511.

Without going into all the details, the Scythian Monks traveled from their hometown of Tomi (located in what is now modern day Romania) to Constantinople to appeal to the emperor in order to settle a dispute they had with their bishop Paternus. Again, without going into all the details, the Scythian Monks were unsuccessful in swaying opinion either in Constantinople or in Rome.

At any rate, we learn from the Theopaschite Controversy and from the writings of both the monks and Fulgentius (as I’ve already indicated) this connection that they recognized between Christology and grace. This connection can be characterized by two main points as explained by David R. Maxwell. In his Ph.D. dissertation on this subject, “Christology and Grace in the Sixth-Century Latin West: The Theopaschite Controversy” at Notre Dame, he wrote: “First, human actions originate in God both in the case of Christ and in the case of Christians. Except in the case of sin, humanity never acts independently from God. Second, God’s role as subject does not evacuate humanity from Christology or soteriology, but humanity finds its fulfillment precisely because God acts through human experiences, human actions, and even human decisions.”

Thus, the correspondence and interaction between the Scythian Monks and Fulgentius serve as examples not only of the connection between grace and Christology in patristic thought, but should remind us once again as Reformed believers of the utter sovereignty of God in every aspect of human salvation.
 
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