Глава XVI. «...он сложил с себя царские знаки отличия и публично в церкви оплакивал грех свой...»

(Ambrose. On the death of Theodosius, 34) After the victory over Maximus, Emperor Theodosius became the sole ruler of the entire Roman Empire, its most powerful ruler. Sources characterize the personality of this emperor and his policies in very contradictory ways. The famous late Roman biographer Aurelius Victor gives the following portrait of him: “Theodosius was calm, merciful, sociable; he believed that he differed from other people only in his attire. He was kind to everyone, especially good people. He loved simple people just as much as he admired scientists, but at the same time honest, he was generous and magnanimous. In terms of science, if we compare him with learned people, his education was mediocre, but he was very insightful and loved to learn about the deeds of his ancestors. He exercised physically, but without getting carried away or overworking himself.” (Extracts on the life and morals of the Roman emperors, 48). Ambrose of Milan characterizes Theodosius as a pious, merciful, peace-loving, calm person, having faith and fear of God in his heart, and gentle towards people. At the same time, the bishop notes the ardor of his character, which, if anyone wants to soften, the emperor quickly turns into mercy, and if anyone inflames, Theodosius becomes so excited that he can barely contain it. (Ambrose. Letter 40, 5; letter 51; On the death of Theodosius). The Arian church historian Philostorgius notes that Theodosius was an intemperate man, devoted to immoderate luxury, but in the field of king he achieved the highest goals of earthly life: he won brilliant victories, ruled over the Romans, leaving his children a pacified kingdom. (Philostorgius XI, 2). The pagan historian Eunapius gives a sharply negative characterization of Theodosius: “When Theodosius became emperor over such a vast territory, he proved the validity of the old proverbs that power is a great evil and that a person can be firm and constant in everything, except his happiness. For as soon as he became emperor, he began to behave like a young man who, having become the heir to the wealth accumulated over a long time by the frugality and honest life of his father, suddenly entering into the inheritance, was seized with a passionate desire to squander it in any way. Thus, at that time, a wise observer could see that the emperor used every atrocity and extreme to destroy the state" 68. From the above quotes it is obvious that the assessment of Theodosius’s personality depends on the religious orientation of the authors who wrote about him. At the same time, Christian authors of the Nicene orientation are generally unanimous in their positive assessment of the activities of Theodosius. Moreover, the official church awarded Theodosius the honorary title of Great. Of the Roman emperors, only Constantine was awarded such an honor, but Theodosius turned out to be, perhaps, even more worthy of this title, for his services to the church were truly great. Earlier it was said about Theodosius’s struggle against Arianism and other heresies, as well as his attitude towards intra-church disputes. However, the role of Theodosius in the history of Christianity in the 4th century. became even more significant from the late 380s. Characterizing the religious policy of this emperor as a whole, it should be noted that it was determined by the needs of the time and the experience that was accumulated by his predecessors. Theodosius saw in Christianity the force that was to become a powerful and effective support of his power, that is, he essentially followed in the footsteps of Constantine. However, over the half-century of Christianization of the Roman Empire, the situation changed greatly, and during this time the church, despite all the strife, grew stronger and stronger, while the state became increasingly weakened under the pressure of internal and external circumstances. Therefore, by the end of the 380s, the question of the relationship between church and state began to become increasingly acute. In the east, Theodosius elevated the attitude towards Christianity and the church to the rank of one of the most important aspects of state policy. At the same time, “identifying the interests of the church and the state,” as N. F. Chernyavsky put it, Theodosius did not at all intend to put the church on an equal footing with state institutions. He saw Christianity as a state religion, that is, a religion serving the state, and not vice versa. An exhaustive and accurate description of Theodosius’s attitude to the church in the east is given by N.F. Chernyavsky: “Theodosius convenes councils and authorizes their work, issues orders to investigate the merits of candidates for episcopal sees, and then, at his own discretion, appoints certain individuals to be bishops; regulates the life of clergy and monks with laws, even tries to arrogate to himself the right to canonize saints, he himself personally announces statements of faith as state decrees binding on all his subjects, establishes the subjects of the episcopal court, etc. In essence, there was not a single aspect in the life of the church that did not fall under the watchful eye of the emperor and was not subject to criticism and restructuring, in accordance with the basic idea of ​​his policy” 69 . The appearance of Theodosius in the West, along with many other problems, confronted him with the problem of making adjustments to his religious policy. Relations between church and state in the West developed completely differently than in the East, and the leaders of the Western Church, especially Ambrose of Milan, had absolutely no tolerance for the above-described attitude towards Christianity on the part of secular rulers. The views of Ambrose and Theodosius on the nature of the union between church and state differed radically, and the relationship between the leader of the Western Church and the ruler of the eastern part of the Roman Empire was inevitably bound to result in conflict. This conflict was colored by the personal rivalry of two outstanding personalities, but its course and result were determined by the real balance of power between the church and the state at the end of the 4th century. There is no indication in the sources that Ambrose could personally meet with Theodosius before 388. Between them there was only an acquaintance by correspondence as early as 381, and this acquaintance, as has already been shown, did not at all contribute to the establishment of friendly contacts. The first meeting between the bishop and the emperor seems most likely after Theodosius' victory over Maximus. ...The imperial cortege of Theodosius slowly approached Mediolan. It was around noon when the powerful walls of the city appeared in the distance, and Theodosius noted to himself that he had calculated the time correctly. He believed that it was in the middle of the day that his triumphal entry would be greeted by the largest number of inhabitants of the western capital, which, as he heard, did not awaken until noon. The road from Aquileia to Mediolan was surprisingly picturesque, and the journey seemed to the emperor not at all tiring, although, as was his custom, he traveled most of the way on horseback. Still under the impression of the easy victory over Maxim, Theodosius did not attach much importance to the fact that the inhabitants of the villages and cities he met along the way did not greet him as a liberator with loud applause and applause, did not shed joyful tears at the sight of his magnificent procession, did not shower his soldiers with flowers. Although everywhere the eastern emperor was given due honors, everywhere city magistrates came out to meet him, everywhere solemn panegyrics were pronounced in his honor and congratulations were heard on the victory over the usurper and tyrant, Theodosius felt the insincerity of these words, realizing that those who met them were pronouncing them more out of duty than at the call of the heart. It always seemed to the emperor that people were not telling something. In the end, he realized that they were simply tired of wars, robberies, barbarian raids, civil strife, and the passage of triumphant emperors and generals through their cities had become so commonplace for them that there was almost no room left for emotions in their souls. At the gates of Mediolan, the emperor was met by a delegation consisting of famous men of the city, magistrates, and high officials of the imperial administration of the western provinces. Theodosius noted with satisfaction that among those who met there were several Christian priests. In the East they usually gave him the warmest and most sincere welcome, treating with due respect his glory and power and paying tribute to his piety and piety, which always flattered him. Looking at their Western brethren, Theodosius remembered that in the West his policy on religious issues did not always meet with due understanding, and now the emperor was wary of how he would be received by the local church ministers. After the usual greetings and ceremonies, Theodosius was approached by one of the priests, whose vestments and authoritative appearance clearly indicated his high position. The Emperor, not without surprise, met his direct, piercing gaze, emitting some kind of special light, but at the same time frightening in its depth and insight. Theodosius felt that the priest was looking into his very soul. For a moment, under this gaze, he even lost his usual confidence. “Greetings, Emperor Theodosius,” the priest addressed him. “Your glory has far outstripped your cortege, but now we finally have the happiness of seeing with our own eyes the victorious usurper, who wickedly violated divine and human laws. – Greetings to you, servant of the one God, our Lord. Glory to the Almighty, who granted me this victory. My prayers and yours were not in vain... “Yes, we prayed earnestly for you, emperor,” the priest interrupted him, and this manner of conversation offended Theodosius. In the east, even the bishops of Constantinople behaved servilely towards him and never allowed themselves to interrupt the emperor, even if they did not agree with him on something. This same Western priest did not seem to be aware of what great ruler he was talking to in such a free manner. Meanwhile, the priest, not giving Theodosius the opportunity to show the importance appropriate to his greatness, continued to speak just as confidently: “Our prayers are now directed towards something else.” We pray to God and ask you, Emperor, to spare those who were deceived by Maxim, who helped the usurper out of simplicity of heart, and not out of malice and hatred of the legitimate authorities. I have heard a lot from my Eastern brethren about your piety and I want to say that the love of a Christian emperor for God is tested first of all by his mercy. And we will be your debtors, Theodosius, if you show mercy to the vanquished. Remove the heavy shackles from them, free them from dark dungeons, do not send them into distant exile. The wives and mothers of these unfortunate lost ones will praise your name, and our almighty and merciful Lord will bless you with eternal life. This I say to you, the bishop by the grace of God of the city, before the gates of which you stand now and into which you will enter as ruler and ruler. But remember that there is a higher power to which everyone obeys, including you, Emperor. He uttered the last words so firmly and decisively that Theodosius involuntarily, as if in a chill, shuddered, but immediately pulled himself together: “Now I understand who I’m talking to.” Of course, you are the famous Ambrose, whose fame, it seems, has already gone beyond the borders of not only the western, but also the eastern provinces. I am glad to meet you, although, I remember, not so long ago we already exchanged messages. And you really are the way you were described to me. “You too, emperor,” Ambrose casually retorted and added, not without sarcasm, “although I expected to see less jewelry on the Christian emperor than on his pagan courtiers.” “Bishop, you seem to have forgotten that this is the Roman emperor before you,” Theodosius exclaimed in anger in response to this insolence, but the bishop did not seem to notice his excitement. Under the defiant gaze of Ambrose, the emperor was again forced to curb his ambitions. However, Theodosius did not want to continue this conversation with the obstinate bishop, who constantly emphasized the subordination of the ruler of the Roman Empire to God. Moreover, the retinue surrounding him was watching this unusual dialogue too closely. “I promise you, bishop,” Theodosius continued in a calm tone, “that I will think about your words and take into account your request for mercy.” And now goodbye. I hope I will meet you again in Mediolan. “The Church of Christ is always open to the Christian emperor,” Ambrose said in a humble tone, but behind this apparent humility there was a hint that the bishop did not at all intend to come to the emperor’s palace as a subject, but was waiting for him as a servant of God - the highest power in relation to Theodosius. The emperor gave a sign, and his cortege began the solemn ceremony of the triumphant entry of the winner into the western capital of the Roman Empire... Theodosius really did not deprive anyone of their estates, freedom, or position. He even returned the officials appointed by Maximus to their previous position, cashed court sentences passed by persons who did not have the appropriate title, and, in addition, provided assistance to Gaul with his own funds. However, the emperor, showing mercy and generosity towards the vanquished, probably followed not so much a sense of generosity and the requests of Ambrose, but rather a real assessment of the political situation in the West, which threatened new complications in the event of widespread repression. Very soon, Ambrose made an attempt to influence Theodosius, when another Senate petition was sent to the emperor asking for the restoration of the Altar of Victory 70. The attempt at pressure on the part of the bishop was perceived with caution by Theodosius, and the emperor tried to present the matter in such a way that his refusal did not depend on the insistence of Ambrose, who, however, wisely did not bother him. As already noted, Ambrose had extensive connections with representatives of the Roman aristocracy and the imperial administration. Undoubtedly, the bishop also had “his own people” in the imperial consistory, which allowed Ambrose to be aware of all the decisions made there and even influence them. Not yet having the opportunity to personally influence Theodosius, Ambrose tried to act through the emperor’s associates. The latter stubbornly refused to submit to the dictates of the bishop and made decisions on religious issues at his own discretion. One of these decisions led to open confrontation between the bishop and the emperor. In the same year 388, in the small border town on the Euphrates Kalinnik, Christian monks and plebeian masses, incited by the local bishop, burned the Jewish synagogue and prayer house of the Gnostic sect of the Valentinians. The sources say almost nothing about the reasons for this act of religious hostility. Only Ambrose, touching upon the Valentinians, reports that they prevented the monks from performing a religious ceremony. It is possible that the burning of the synagogue was the result of an explosion of popular anger against wealthy Jews under the guise of religious fanaticism. When news of this event reached Theodosius, the emperor gave orders to punish those responsible and to rebuild the synagogue at the expense of the bishop. Ambrose learned about what had happened while in Aquileia on the occasion of the ordination of Chromatius as bishop of the city in place of the deceased Valerian. From there he immediately sent a message to Theodosius (letter 40): “To the most gracious princeps and the most blessed emperor Theodosius Augustus. I am always troubled by almost constant worries, most blessed Emperor, but I have never been in such anxiety as now, when I see that I must beware that nothing is attributed to me out of danger of sacrilege. So, I ask that you listen patiently to my speech. After all, if I am not worthy to be heard by you, I am not worthy to turn for you to the One to whom your vows and your prayers are entrusted. And therefore, won’t you listen to someone who wants to be listened to for you? Won't you listen to the complainer for yourself - the one whom you heard asking for others? Are you not afraid of your judgment, so that by what you would consider unworthy of the one whom you should listen to, you would make unworthy the one who is being listened to for you? But it is not proper for an emperor to refuse freedom to speak, nor for a priest not to say what he thinks. After all, nothing in you, emperors, is so beloved and so pleasant than to value freedom even in those who are subjugated by you through military submission. For there is a difference between good and bad rulers: good ones love freedom, bad ones love slavery. For a priest, nothing is so dangerous before God, so shameful before people, than the fact that he cannot freely express what he thinks. So, Emperor, I am more disposed to be in communion with you in good than in bad, and therefore your grace should be unpleasant with the silence of the priest and should like his freedom. For you are drawn into danger by my silence, but have good support in freedom. So, I do not insert what is inappropriate and undue for me, I do not impose on others, but I obey what is due, I obey the instructions of God. I do this primarily out of love for you, for the sake of your mercy and out of a desire to restore your well-being. If I did not believe in this or if it were forbidden to me, I truly speak out of fear of offending God. For if my danger could set you free, I would patiently offer myself for you, though reluctantly, for I prefer that you should be accepted by God and covered with glory without my danger. But if my silence, hypocrisy and guilt, burdens me and does not free you, I prefer to be more annoying than useless or unworthy... So, what you willingly accept in those who serve you, can this seem unnatural in priests, since we say not what we want, but what is prescribed to us... And if I speak about the affairs of the state, although justice must be observed in them also, I will not be constrained by such fear if I am not listened to; but in the matter of God, who else will you listen to if not the priest, whose sin plunges him into even greater danger? Who will dare to tell you the truth if the priest does not dare? I know that you are pious, merciful, peace-loving and calm, you have faith and fear of God in your heart, but often some things go unnoticed for us.. “For I testify to them that they have a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge” (Rom. 10:2). I know your piety towards God, your gentleness towards people, I myself am indebted to my merciful benefits. And yet, I am even more afraid, I am even more alarmed, lest even you yourself later judge me, since due to my secrecy or flattery you did not escape the mistake. If I saw that you had sinned against me, I should not have remained silent: “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone: ​​if he listens to you, then you have gained your brother; But if he does not listen, take with you one or two more, so that through the mouth of two or three witnesses every word may be established” (Matthew 18:15-16). Should I remain silent when it comes to God? So let's consider what I have to fear." After such a lengthy introduction, which perfectly characterizes the style of communication between the bishop and the emperor, Ambrose moves on to the essence of the matter, having previously assured Theodosius of the loyalty of the priests, for it is they who “are the calmers of unrest and advocate peace.” Unconditionally taking the side of Bishop Kalinnik, Ambrose so enthusiastically puts forward arguments in his favor that he even dares to take the blame for what happened on himself and asks to punish him instead of the actual culprit: “... I ask that you better punish me, and if you consider this a crime, attribute it to my account.” When asked to himself why he didn’t set fire to the synagogue here, the bishop arrogantly replies: “because I didn’t think it was subject to punishment.” Ambrose dares to openly condemn the order of the emperor and reproaches him for his patronage of the Jews. Drawing a parallel with the past, he notes that pagan temples were built with funds received as a result of the fight against enemies of the state, “and the Jews on their synagogue,” he sarcastically reproaches the emperor, “will write the following inscription: “The temple of wickedness, erected with funds from the fight against Christians.” And when asked what is more important for the emperor: discipline or religion, the bishop without hesitation gives preference to religion. Further, Ambrose gives examples (the burning of the houses of prefects in Rome, the house of the bishop in Constantinople), aimed at proving that the burning of the synagogue in Kalinnik is too insignificant an event to have reasons for excitement, and even more so for “such a cruel punishment,” for, in his opinion, it was not just a public building that was burned, but a synagogue - “a place of unbelief, a house of wickedness, a receptacle of madness, which God himself condemned.” And the Jews are all the more unworthy of compensation, says Ambrose, because they burned many Christian basilicas during the time of Julian: basilicas were burned in Damascus, Gaza, Ascalon, Berita, Alexandria and other places. It is curious that he says nothing about such events in the West, but only rhetorically asks: “The church was not avenged, but will the synagogue be avenged?” The Valentinians, according to Ambrose, also do not deserve compensation, and the bishop finds the best argument for this in accusing the adherents of this sect. idolatry and the fact that they prevented the monks from performing religious rites. Ambrose's letter is replete with all sorts of accusations against the Jews and parallels with the Holy Scriptures and the time of Julian, usual for his style. The question that the bishop asks Theodosius is indicative: “If Julian did not take revenge on the church because he was an apostle, then you, emperor, take revenge for the damage to the synagogue because you are a Christian?” Moving on to assessing the reign of Theodosius, Ambrose speaks about him in the words of the prophet Nathan addressed to David, and attributes all the actions of the emperor to the will of God. Then the bishop gives an illustrative example of what patronage of unfaithful Jews can lead to: Maxim gave the order to restore the burned synagogue in Rome, thus the king became a Jew and suffered a fair punishment, and Theodosius the victor should not follow the vanquished, but condemn him. Ambrose convinces the emperor of the need to discuss them with the bishops before making decisions on matters relating to faith: “If in financial matters you consult with your comites, then how much more should you consult with the priest of the Lord in matters of religion?” He graciously “permits” Theodosius to give orders of his own free will, but urges him to exclude what rightly worries the bishop. In conclusion, Ambrose appeals to the paternal feelings of Theodosius, linking the well-being of the emperor’s children with the mercy of God, justifies the possibility of canceling the order and relies on the emperor’s mercy, which he had already shown in forgiving the inhabitants of Antioch and in relation to Maximus’s relatives (the usurper’s daughters were handed over to relatives, and Theodosius allocated money from his own funds to his mother). The bishop ends his letter with an appeal to listen to his words and, if this is not enough, expresses his readiness to speak before the emperor in church. And such an opportunity really soon presented itself, since, apparently, Ambrose’s letter did not have the desired effect on the emperor: he never canceled his order, although he probably changed it somewhat, distributing the responsibility to restore the synagogue to all members of the Christian community of Kalinnik. Arriving from Aquileia to Milan, Ambrose performed divine services in the church in the presence of Emperor Theodosius 71. First, the bishop preached a sermon, addressing, in the words of J. Matthews, “over the head of the emperor to his parishioners.” In this sermon he successfully used commentary on passages of Scripture to justify his subsequent actions. E. Gibbon remarked on this matter: “His sermon was a strange allegory of the staff of Jeremiah, of the almond tree, of the woman who washed and anointed the feet of Christ. But the conclusion of the sermon consists of direct and personal allusions." 72 At the same time, Ambrose paid special attention to the advantages of the church over the synagogue from an ecclesiastical point of view. As for the final part of the sermon, here the bishop compares Theodosius with the biblical king David and directly addresses the emperor, saying that these words are addressed specifically to him. To this it was added that the more glory Theodosius has, the more he should see in God the creator of what is entrusted to him. This was followed by a dialogue, which Ambrose quotes verbatim in his letter addressed to his sister Marcellina: “When I came down, he said to me: “I said what was intended for your benefit,” I replied. Then he said: “I actually decreed too harshly that the synagogue should be restored by the bishop, but that has now been corrected.” The monks committed many crimes. Then Timasius, master of cavalry and infantry, began to speak out sharply against the monks. I answered him: “I behave with the emperor as appropriate, because I know that he has fear of the Lord; I will behave differently with you, because you utter such rude speeches. Then, after a pause, I said to the emperor: - Let me calmly celebrate the Eucharist for you, free my soul. He continued to sit and nodded, but made no direct promise; I continued to stand, and he said that he would correct the edict. I immediately began to say that the full investigation should be canceled, so that the committee, taking advantage of the investigation, would not cause any harm to Christians. He promised that it would be so.” I told him: “I am acting on the basis of your promise.” “Act,” he said, “on the basis of my promise.” And so I came to the altar, where I would not have come had he not given me a full promise. And indeed, the grace of celebrating the Eucharist was so great that I felt as if our God himself was endowing us with this grace, and the divine presence was felt everywhere. So, everything happened as I wanted.” Although Ambrose probably embellished his story somewhat in detail, the general course of this episode and its result can hardly be doubted. The position of the bishop and the emperor in this episode has repeatedly attracted the attention of researchers in the context of relations between church and state during this period. Many see in Theodosius’s concession to the bishop the political considerations of the emperor, who did not want to complicate his position in the newly brought to order West by a quarrel with the powerful prelate of the church, who had support from the broadest sections of the population of Italy and the western provinces (Dadden F., Palanque J., Paredi A., etc.). In addition, the situation in which Theodosius was placed as a bishop also played a role, when the emperor, in order to preserve his reputation as a Christian before Ambrose’s flock, was forced to accept his ultimatum (Matthews J., Jones A.). This can be confirmed by the fact that five years after Kalinnik. Theodosius issued a decree on punishment for the destruction and robbery of synagogues and obstruction of the Jews in the exercise of their worship (Code of Theodosius XVI, VIII, 8–9). And although this decree applied only to the eastern part of the empire, Theodosius clearly proved his tolerance towards the Jewish religion. Ambrose's position seems interesting in this situation. Probably, the events in Kalinnik and the order of Theodosius in this regard seemed to the bishop a convenient, although not the most suitable, opportunity to try to subjugate the emperor to his influence and impose on him his point of view on the relationship between church and state. Kalinnik was too far from Mediolan, and Theodosius’s order was quite fair from the state point of view and even from the point of view of Ambrose himself, who around this time argued that justice strengthens the state, and injustice weakens it (On the duties of clergy II, 19). However, the bishop, who understood that Theodosius was not inclined to tolerate the interference of the church in the affairs of the state, nevertheless decided to take advantage of the first opportunity. There is no doubt that, despite all the “theoretical” justifications for his position, Ambrose first of all sought to subjugate Theodosius to his will. This could not be achieved as a result of the letter, but, judging by its ending, the bishop did not expect success right away, but only prepared the ground. Theodosius's reaction to the letter was to soften the original order, and he probably considered that this was sufficient, at least from a formal point of view. And this would indeed be enough for any bishop of the empire. However, Ambrose was by no means seeking a small formal concession. To achieve his goal, he set up a kind of trap for Theodosius in the church, and the bishop’s calculation was completely justified: the emperor in this situation had no choice but to submit to the will of Ambrose. Thus, justice was trampled upon to please the powerful representative of the dominant religion. Many researchers (F. Dudden, A. Paredi, K. Setton) believe that Ambrose’s behavior in this situation was dictated by the interests of the church. However, in my opinion, the bishop’s position was dominated by personal ambitions, which he quite skillfully tried to put at the service of the interests of the church. And the church undoubtedly gained a lot. First, the direct consequence of Theodosius's compliance was an outbreak of religious fanaticism against pagans and Jews, whose temples and property were attacked by monks and Christian fanatics. But the political side of Ambrose’s victory over Theodosius was much more important. This victory was a serious blow to Caesaropapism, according to the principles of which Theodosius acted in the east. This victory put obstacles in the way of imperial despotism in relation to the church. According to Ambrose, the state, especially if its representatives are Christians, cannot force the church or its representatives to do anything that could be considered apostasy. Moreover, Ambrose laid claim to church control of government affairs and the right to veto any government measure that could harm the interests of orthodoxy. Jewish historian of the papacy E. Kaspar, drawing a parallel between the episode in connection with Kalinnik and the relationship of Liberius with Constantius. three decades earlier, notes that between these two scenes lies the awakening of the spirit of the Western church. Moreover, in this seemingly insignificant episode, he sees the foundation on which the “great edifice of the Roman Papal Church” was eventually erected. And although Ambrose himself was not a pope, his role in the history of the formation of the papacy was very significant. However, the immediate consequence of this at that time for Ambrose himself was that his success led to a cooling of relations with Theodosius. The emperor hastened to get rid of the tutelage of the powerful bishop and took measures to ensure that Ambrose did not receive information about decisions made in the consistory. In addition, Theodosius’s sympathies even leaned somewhat in favor of the pagan party, the most prominent representatives of which the emperor granted honorary posts and his friendly disposition during his visit to Rome. However, Ambrose was not at all embarrassed by the resulting coldness in relations with Theodosius. He was still informed about the decisions of the consistory, despite the strictest ban from the emperor, and the bishop still kept his finger on the pulse of state life. A new clash between the emperor and the bishop in this situation seemed inevitable. And it really happened, but for a much more significant reason than the burning of a synagogue in a remote town. True, this time the matter had nothing to do with religion. In mid-390 there was an uprising in Thessalonica. The historian Sozomen reports that the reason for it was the refusal of the chief of the Illyrian troops, Boterik, to release from prison to participate in the games a popular charioteer, accused of “shameful temptation of the cupbearer.” (Ecclesiastical History VI, 25). Perhaps this driver was subject to the law of May 14, 390, directed against male prostitution, or the law of August 6, 390, according to which those found guilty of homosexuality were punished by public burning (Code Theodosius IX, 7, 6). The indignant crowd, thirsting for spectacle, took the life of the unfortunate Boterik and, possibly, other city officials. Thus, Theodoret reports that some government officials were killed and dragged through the streets (Ecclesiastical History V, 17), and Rufinus mentions one of the military killed (Ecclesiastical History II, 18). We have no information about the scale of this uprising in Thessalonica. It can be assumed that the spontaneous indignation of the crowd quickly calmed down, since very soon the residents of the city, as if nothing had happened, gathered at the circus for the games at the invitation of the emperor. When Theodosius first learned about what had happened, he became furious and gave orders to severely punish the perpetrators, and since it was very difficult to identify them, then, according to the testimony of Sozomen, a certain number of first comers were ordered to be put to death. (Ecclesiastical History VII, 25). Theodoret writes that the royal anger “unjustly drew the sword” against everyone, even the innocent (Ecclesiastical History V, 17). Ambrose was informed of the events in Thessalonica almost simultaneously with the emperor and considered it his duty to ask him for mercy. According to Paulinus, the bishop secured Theodosius's promise that mercy would be shown. However, either Theodosius broke his promise, or his decree to cancel the first order came too late, or the emperor’s subordinates overdid it - the bloody event happened. Gathered at the circus by invitation, which is said to have come treacherously from the emperor himself, the inhabitants of Thessalonica were surrounded by soldiers who carried out a merciless massacre. Sources differ in determining its scale and duration: Peacock reports that the massacre lasted almost three hours; Theodoret writes about 7,000 killed; Feofan names the number 15,000; Sozomen says that many innocents died, but does not name their number, although he gives details of the massacre; Rufinus reports that the soldiers killed everyone they met. Even if all these data are considered exaggerated, the event itself made a stunning impression on the Roman Empire. The news of what had happened reached Ambrose when he was holding a council in Milan. “There was no one,” he wrote to the emperor, “who would not lament, no one took it indifferently, there was no justification for your act in the company of Ambrose.” Theodosius himself was absent from Mediolan at that time, and three days before his arrival, Ambrose left the city, citing illness. However, the real reason for the bishop's sudden departure was his desire to avoid a meeting with the emperor. From the place of his voluntary exile, he sent a secret letter to Theodosius 73. Ambrose begins this letter with the traditional assurances of his good feelings towards the emperor and thanks Theodosius for his benefits. He further explains the reason for his departure: “I saw that I alone in your circle was deprived of the only right to listen, so that I would be deprived of the duty to speak: you were often concerned that some of what was decided in your consistory reached me. As a result, I was deprived of ordinary needs, while the Lord Jesus said: “There is nothing hidden that cannot be discovered.” So, I respectfully carried out the imperial will as best I could and made sure that you yourself had no reason to worry, so I took measures to ensure that the imperial decisions were not reported to me. And when I was present, I either did not listen because of the danger for everyone and almost became known as condescending, or I listened in such a way that my ears were open and my speech was locked, so that I could not talk about what I heard, so as not to involve in danger those who would be suspected of treason. What should I have done? Don't listen? But I can’t plug my ears with wax like in the ancient legend. Speak? But I would have to beware in my words of what I feared in your orders, so that bloodshed would not occur. Silence? But my conscience would be tied, my voice would be taken away, which would be the worst of all. Why is this so? But if the priest does not tell the lost one, the one who is lost will die in his sin, and the guilty priest will be punished for not warning the lost one. Understand this, Emperor Augustus. I cannot deny that you have zeal for faith; it is impossible not to admit that you fear God, but you have an ardor of character, which, if someone wants to soften, you quickly turn into mercy; if someone inflames it, you excite it even more so that you can hardly contain it. Oh, if only when no one softens, then no one would inflame! I gladly bring it to your attention that you restrain yourself, and the passion for piety overcomes the ardor of your character. I preferred to secretly present this ardor of yours to you for reflection, rather than perhaps arouse it through my actions in front of everyone. So, I preferred to have some deficiency in the performance of my duty than in humility and in the priestly authority required in me from others, than to have a deficiency in your loving respect; so that with the suppression of your ardor, your ability to choose advice remains unchanged. I cited as an excuse the illness of the body, which was really serious, and if not for the care of people, relief would hardly have come. However, of course, I would rather die than not wait two or three days before your arrival. But this was impossible for me. Something happened to the inhabitants of Thessalonica that no one remembered; what I could not prevent from happening; Moreover, what I spoke about before, when I so often asked, that this would be the most terrible, and what you yourself considered, canceling too late, a difficult act. I could not belittle the significance of this act... My guilt for the offense would have increased even more if no one had said that your reconciliation with our God is necessary...” Next, Ambrose turns to the Holy Scriptures and gives a number of examples from the lives of biblical characters who committed sins, but then repented before God. The bishop pays special attention to David, with whom he often compared Theodosius in his works. The letter then reads: “...I wrote all this not to confuse you, but so that the example of kings would motivate you to remove this sin from your kingdom; You will remove it by humbling your soul before God. You are human, and when you are faced with a test, overcome it. Sin cannot be removed except through tears and repentance. Neither an angel can do this, nor an archangel; only the Lord himself, who alone can say: “I am with you.” If we have sinned, he will not let go of the sin except through repentance. I offer, I ask, I urge, I warn; after all, this is my grief, so that you, who were an example of unheard-of piety, who reached the pinnacle of mercy, who did not allow individual criminals to be endangered, would not grieve that so many innocents died! Although you have been successful in battle, although you have been worthy of praise in other deeds, the pinnacle of your deeds has always been piety. The devil looked with envy at what was your most excellent possession. Defeat him while you still have what you can win with. Do not add another sin to your sin, lest you do something that will cause harm to many. Although, of course, in everything else I am a debtor to your piety, to which I cannot help but be grateful; that piety which many emperors have shown, but which only one could equal; I say that I have no reason to think that you will be inflexible. But I have reason to fear; I would not dare to perform the service if you wished to be present. If this cannot be done because of the shedding of innocent blood of one, is it possible because of many? Don't think. In general, I am writing with my own hand so that you alone can read it. Only then would the Lord free me from all torment, since neither from man nor through man, but by revelation itself, the prohibition was indicated to me. I was really excited when that night, as I was preparing to leave, a vision came to me: you are entering the church, but I am not allowed to perform the service. Otherwise, I avoided what I could have guarded against, but I kept your love, as I believe. The Lord makes sure that everything happens in the world. Our God warns in various ways: with signs from heaven, predictions of the prophets, even through the visions of sinners, he makes us understand that we ask him to deliver us from shocks, to preserve peace for you, emperors, to extend the faith and tranquility of the church, the benefit of which is that emperors must be Christians and must be filled with piety. Of course you want to be pleasing to God. There is a time for everything, as the Scripture says... Then you will be able to celebrate the Eucharist, then you will receive permission to worship when your sacrifice is acceptable to God. Wouldn't I be pleased to have the emperor's favor by acting according to your will, if the occasion presented itself? And besides, simple prayer is a sacrifice: one brings mercy, the other indignation; since one carries humility, the other contempt... Do what you know will be most profitable at a given time. “I prefer mercy,” says the Scripture, “to sacrifice.” Therefore, aren’t those Christians who condemn their sin more than those who think of defending it? The one who blames himself when he sins is just, not the one who praises himself. Oh, if, Emperor, even before this, I would rather trust myself than your habit! Although, I think you are quick to forgive, quick to cancel orders, as you often did, but you were warned, and I did not reject what I did not feel the need to beware of. But thanks be to the Lord that he wants to punish his servants so as not to lose. I have this idea in common with the prophets, and you should be courteous with the saints. ...I love you, I respect you, I accompany you with my prayers. If you believe me, follow me; if, I repeat, you believe, admit what I say; if you don't believe me, forgive me for what I do, that I show you God as an example. Enjoy, most beautiful and prosperous Emperor Augustus, constant peace with your pious loved ones.” As can be seen from the text, this letter is written too softly to speak of Ambrose’s decisive and irreconcilable position towards the emperor. E. Gibbon called this message “a pitiful rhapsody on a sublime subject,” and this assessment is not far from the truth. The bishop, it seems, does not so much regret what happened and the “innocent blood” of the victims as he strives to achieve at least a formal reconciliation between Theodosius and the church, leaving the door wide open and literally pushing the emperor there. And prayers for Theodosius in the conditions of his excommunication from the church clearly do not correspond with the image of Ambrose as a guardian of justice and Christian morality, which is customary in church literature. The secret nature of the letter certainly indicates that Ambrose was seeking some kind of deal with Theodosius; the emperor must repent, and in exchange for this, the church undertook not only to atone for his sins, but also to calm public opinion. It is curious that Ambrose in the letter does not say anything about the fact that repentance should be public and does not give Theodosius any instructions, usual for his letters to senior government officials. We do not have any exact information about Theodosius's reaction to this message from Ambrose. Some historians find it possible to connect his law on a 30-day reprieve of execution of the death penalty (Code Theodosius IX, 40, 13) with this, although the dating of this law is rather doubtful. It is also unclear from the sources how the emperor’s excommunication from the church actually took place. Theodoret gives the most detailed and colorful description in his Church History (V, 18). Although much of this story raises serious doubts, it is quite appropriate to present it here in full, especially since it was the subject of paintings by Rubens and Van Dyck and for numerous speculations in church and fiction literature. “...When the king, having arrived in Mediolan, wanted to enter the church of God as usual, Ambrose met him in the vestibule and forbade him to enter the sacred vestibule, saying this: “You don’t seem to know, Sovereign, the magnitude of the murder committed.” Even after calming your anger, your mind did not think about this: the height of his rank, perhaps, did not allow him to recognize the sin of power; on the contrary, it may have darkened the power of reason. But you must know nature, its mortality and perishability, you must also know the ancestral dust from which we are created and into which we are converted, and, without being deceived by the shine of porphyry, know the weakness of the body covered with it. You rule, Sovereign, over your fellow tribesmen, even over your fellow slaves, for one is the Lord and King of all, the Creator of all things. With what eyes will you behold the church of the common Lord? With what groans will you trample this holy platform? How can you stretch out your hands, from which the blood of the innocent murdered is still dripping? How will you receive the all-holy body of the Lord with these hands? How can you bring honest blood to these lips, when the word of anger that descended from them unjustly shed so much blood? Go away and do not try to increase the previous lawlessness with others; accept knitting, which God, the Lord of all, affirms to grief: it is healing and brings health. Yielding to these words, the king, brought up in the word of God and clearly understanding what belongs to the priests and what belongs to the kings, returned to his palace with lamentation and tears. After a long time had passed, for eight months had already passed, the Christmas holiday of our Savior arrived, and the king was still sitting in the palace, lamenting and shedding streams of tears. Seeing this, Rufinus, the then minister, who enjoyed special boldness in the face of the king, since he was very close to him, entered and asked about the reason for the tears. And the king, sighing bitterly and shedding even more tears, said: “You keep joking, Rufinus, because you don’t feel my misfortunes; on the contrary, I groan and grieve because I think about my misfortune. Now God’s church will be opened to the servants and the beggars - and they enter into it without restraint and beg their Lord, but for me the church is inaccessible, and moreover, heaven is closed, for I remember the voice of the Lord, which clearly said: “Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven.” “Then I will run, if you wish,” said Rufinus, “and I will persistently convince the bishop to release your bonds.” “You can’t convince me,” said the king, “after all, I understand the justice of Ambrose’s sentence: and reverence for the royal power did not allow the bishop to violate the Divine law.” When Rufinus, after long persuasion, actually promised to bend Ambrose, the king ordered him to go quickly, and he himself, deluded by hope and believing Rufinus’ promise, followed him after a while. But the divine Ambrose, seeing Rufinus, suddenly said: “You, Rufinus, imitate the shamelessness of dogs, for by advising such a murder, you erase shame from your brow.” You rage so much over the image of God, you don’t even blush or tremble. When Rufinus began to beg and said that the king would come, inflamed with divine jealousy, the wondrous Ambrose continued: “I tell you in advance, Rufinus, that I will not allow him to enter the sacred vestibule.” And if he turns royal power into tyranny, then I myself will gladly accept slaughter. Hearing this, Rufinus, through someone, let the king know about the bishop's intentions and persuaded him to remain in his palace. But the king, having learned about this already in the middle of the square, said: “I will go and accept worthy humiliation.” When he reached the holy fence, he did not enter God’s church, but went to the bishop, who was then in the welcoming house, and begged him to free himself from his bonds. Ambrose called this parish tyrant and said that Theodosius was rebelling against God and trampling on his laws. And the king said: “I do not rebel against the established laws and do not attempt to unlawfully enter the sacred vestibule, but I want you to release me from my bonds and, reflecting on the philanthropy of the common Master, do not close for me the door that the Lord opened to all who repent.” - What kind of repentance did you bring after such lawlessness? – asked the bishop. – What medicines did you use to heal incurable wounds? “Your business,” answered the king, “is to indicate and dissolve medicines and heal the incurable, but mine is to accept what is offered.” Then the divine Ambrose said to the king: “Since you allow anger to judge, and your sentences are pronounced not by reason, but by anger, then write a law by which the definitions of anger would be abolished and abolished, and let court verdicts for the deprivation of life or property remain in the records for thirty days, waiting for reason to discuss them. After this time has passed, let the people who carried out the investigation show you their opinions - and then, after the anger has calmed, reason will judge on its own and, considering the case, will see whether those sentences are fair or unfair. If he finds them unfair, then, of course, he will tear up what was written, and when he finds them fair, he will confirm them, and such a number of days will not harm the veracity of the investigation. Having accepted this advice and finding it excellent, the king immediately ordered the law to be written and approved it with his own signature. When this was done, the divine Ambrose released him from his bonds. After this, the most faithful king dared to enter God’s church and prayed to the Lord, not even on his knees, but with his head to the floor and repeating the words of David: “My soul is cast into the dust; quicken me according to Your word" (Ps. 119:25). He begged for forgiveness, tearing his hair with his hands, hitting his forehead and pouring streams of tears onto the platform. Then, when the time called for the offering of wafers to the sacred meal, he stood up and, with no less tears, approached the altar, having made the offering, he stood, as was his custom, inside behind bars. But the great Ambrose did not remain silent here again and allowed him to accept the difference of places. He first asked: “What does he need?” Then, in response to the king’s response that he was waiting to receive the divine mysteries, he announced to him through the serving senior deacon that “the internal, Sovereign, is accessible only to priests, and is inaccessible and inviolable for everyone else, and therefore come out and partake, standing with others, for purple makes people kings, not priests.” The most orthodox king accepted this suggestion with meekness, saying in response that he remained behind bars not out of insolence, but according to the custom that exists, as is known, in Constantinople. “However, I must be grateful for this healing,” he added. The bishops and the tsar shone with such great valor. I am surprised at both - the boldness of one and the humility of the other, I am surprised at the warmth of zeal in the first, and the purity of faith in the latter. The king retained these very rules of piety, accepted from the great bishop, upon his return to Constantinople, for when one divine holiday called him to the church, having brought gifts to the sacred meal, he immediately left. And when the head of the church (and Nektary was the head at that time) asked: “Why didn’t you stay inside?” - He sighed and said: “As soon as I finally learned the difference between a king and a priest, I barely found a teacher of truth. I understand now that Ambrose alone is worthily called a bishop.” How useful is the reproof pronounced by a man radiant in virtue!” Other authors of the time are largely less verbose than Theodoret and do not give such details, although some details are the same. So Sozomen also says that Ambrose did not allow Theodosius into the church in the presence of the people. The emperor, excommunicated from the church, humbly withdrew and did not wear royal jewelry during the entire time assigned to him for repentance. Then Theodosius publicly confessed his sin to the church and issued the aforementioned law on the reprieve of the sentence (Church History VII, 25). Rufinus, the historian closest to the event, is even more brief and limits himself to just one phrase: “When he was convicted of this by the priests of Italy, he admitted his offense and, revealing his guilt with tears, in front of the whole church he performed public repentance, and at the appointed time and without royal dignity he patiently performed it” (Ecclesiastical History II, 18). After this, the historian mentions the publication of the law. Peacock writes that Ambrose, having learned about Theodosius’ act, deprived him of the opportunity to enter the church and considered it impossible for church communication with him, as well as his participation in the sacraments, before the emperor committed public repentance (Life of Ambrose, 24). Next, the biographer cites a dialogue in which Theodosius refers to the example of the biblical David, who also committed murder, and Ambrose calls on the emperor to follow David in what corrected him. Theodosius took this to heart and performed public repentance, which prepared victory for him. The fact of Theodosius’s repentance is mentioned by Augustine, who, admiring the emperor’s humility, says that it had such an effect on the crowd that the subjects present at this event prayed and cried along with the prostrate Theodosius. It is curious that Augustine, like the above-mentioned Rufinus, does not mention the name of Ambrose here (On the City of God, V, 26). Finally, the most direct witness, Ambrose, says the following about Theodosius’s repentance: “Everyone was cast into despondency that he laid aside the royal insignia and publicly in the church mourned his sin, committed through the deception and machinations of others, with groans and tears asking for forgiveness. What ordinary people are ashamed of, the emperor was not ashamed of - to bring public repentance, and there was not a single day after that that he did not regret that sin" (On the Death of Theodosius, 34). Despite the discrepancies, the sources allow us to reproduce the following picture of events with a greater or lesser degree of reliability. Having received Ambrose's letter, Theodosius did not dare to confront the church and did not visit churches for some time, but at the same time he tried to come to an agreement with Ambrose, possibly through the same Rufinus. The latter was well suited for such a role, but thanks to Theodosius's Christian admirers, who tried to absolve the emperor of responsibility for the massacre at the expense of the reputation of his adviser, the political assassination of Rufinus in 395 made him a ready scapegoat. During the negotiations, Ambrose, as usual, persisted at first; Probably, Theodosius also resisted the dictates of the church for some time. In the end, the parties agreed to accept the emperor into the fold of the church on the condition of public repentance. The eight-month period for excommunication of the emperor from the church recorded by Theodoret is not accepted by modern researchers, although according to the rules of the church, the period of repentance for murderers was much longer: thus, according to the rules of church deanery (Canon 56), a murderer had to wear mourning for 4 years, not say a word for 5 years, lie prostrate for 7 years and stand on his feet for 4 years. Ambrose undoubtedly took into account the exceptionality of the case and the highest rank of the penitent. Probably, the excommunication lasted about three months - from the end of September (from the moment Theodosius received Ambrose's letter) until the end of December (Christmas holidays) 390. Ambrose tried to arrange repentance in such a way that, on the one hand, this procedure did not humiliate the imperial dignity, and on the other hand, to show him as a true Christian and a repentant sinner. Theodosius, agreeing to undergo repentance, did not think about the historical consequences of this act and pursued immediate propaganda goals. Considering himself a Christian emperor, he wanted to prove to his subjects the importance that this religion had for him personally, and the senseless massacre in Thessalonica required, if not an explanation, then at least some kind of justification in the eyes of public opinion, especially in the eyes of Christians. One should also take into account the personal factor - the gentleness and compliance of Theodosius, especially in relation to Ambrose after the bishop was able to show the possibilities of church authority. Most likely, the emperor’s repentance took place in a narrow circle of people, which, however, later made it possible to talk about the “publicity” of this act, and was carried out according to a strictly thought-out scenario. It is important to note that not a single source written during the life of the emperor speaks about Theodosius’ repentance, and subsequently Socrates and Zosimus are silent about it. Apparently, the church tried to somehow limit the publicity of this fact or give this publicity the appropriate bias. Ambrose himself spoke about this publicly for the first time at the emperor’s grave, and, obviously, then the bishop did not yet realize the true significance of this event. Theodosius’ repentance began to receive a real assessment only with the growth of papal power, and gradually, as this significance was realized, the event itself began to become overgrown with speculation, fantasies and legends. Modern historiography is basically unanimous in assessing the significance of Theodosius’ public repentance. In it, researchers see the triumph of church power over secular power (Paredi A., King N.), a turning point in history (Dudden F., Greenslade S.), human and civil progress (Paredi A.), an example of the fact that the power and freedom of the clergy here proved the ability to be a bastion of public freedom and law (Kampenhausen X.), the establishment of the life principle of Western society (Friend V.), the victory of the Christian moral order over the will of the ruler (Friend W., Clark R.). There is no shortage of historical analogies: some find here the germ of a long conflict between the papacy and the empire and compare Ambrose with Gregory VII, who proclaimed the right to overthrow emperors; others place the significance of Ambrose's victory higher than the reconciliation of Napoleon with God and Henry IV at Canossa with the Pope. In my opinion, there are at least three factors to keep in mind when assessing this event. Firstly, the specific historical situation in the western part of the Roman Empire, where Theodosius did not feel strong enough and where the balance of power was not in favor of the imperial power, which would be obvious already in the 5th century. Secondly, it seems that this was a kind of deal between the church and the emperor, in which each party had its own benefits at that moment. Thirdly, the personal factor: Ambrose’s personality and the nature of his relationships with the emperors of the late 4th century; and the personality of Theodosius and his specific attitude towards Ambrose. In other words, this event could only happen in 390, only in Mediolan and only with the participation of Ambrose and Theodosius. In assessing this event, there is no need to exaggerate the moral side of the victory of the church, which by a symbolic act forgave the emperor the murder of many innocent people and made it clear that there is no crime that cannot be expiated if it is not directly directed against the church itself. At the same time, one should not think that it was precisely the possibility of repentance that gave many medieval rulers a free hand for bloody atrocities. It is important to note that Theodosius’s repentance clearly proved the possibility of the superiority of church power over secular power, but the complete triumph of papism was still far away. In this sense, historians rightly see in the reign of Theodosius the final stage of the Christianization of the Roman Empire, begun by Constantine. And yet the real significance of this event is that it was a definite turning point for humanity from savage barbarism to humane civilization. The establishment of moral control of society, whose interests were expressed by the Christian Church, over the actions of a person vested with the highest power in the state, seems to be a major step towards true civilization. The triumph of legality and universal morality over the will of the ruler has not become a general rule since then. Humanity and European civilization still had a long way to go, but a beginning had been made: the precedent with Feodosia was never forgotten and constantly reminded the rulers of human destinies of their responsibilities to society. This event was also a kind of turning point in the personal relations between Ambrose and Theodosius. Although Theodosius never fully submitted to Ambrose's influence, as is sometimes supposed, he invested the bishop with his complete confidence, and the emperor's subsequent religious policy was largely guided by his advice. Eunapius. In: Blockley R. S. The Fragmentary Classicizing Historians of the Later Roman Empire. – Liverpool, 1983. Vol. II. P. 70–71. A similar assessment can be found in Zosimus, who followed Eunapius. Chernyavsky N.F. Emperor Theodosius the Great and his reign in church-historical terms. -Sergiev Posad, 1913. P. 180–181. A detailed account of this is in letter 41 of Ambrose. Gibbon E. Uk. op. P. 261. Letter 51, which is usually dated mid-September 390. Paulinus and church historians know nothing about this letter.