In 1054, Pope Leo IX of Rome and Patriarch Michael I of Constantinople excommunicated one another, an event which historians have dubbed the Great Schism. Michael immediately began working to marshal support from the other Eastern patriarchs in Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem. His letter to Peter III of Antioch is utterly tactless. He accuses the Romans of committing several grave deviations from Church Tradition. They use unleavened bread to confect the Eucharist! They don’t allow married priests! Their bishops shave their beards! Worst of all, they inserted a new clause into the Nicene Creed: the infamous filioque! He then asks why, despite these outrages, the Antiochians continue to commemorate the Roman Patriarch?
Peter’s response, meanwhile, is a study in church diplomacy. He politely informs the Patriarch of Constantinople that he is misinformed. The Church of Antioch does not commemorate the Roman patriarch, nor has it done since Pope Vigilius was declared a heretic by the Fifth Ecumenical Council. Peter agrees that some of these errors (the use of unleavened bread; modification of the Creed) are grave matters, while others (clerical celibacy; episcopal pogonotomy) leave room for latitude.
The elderly Peter ends by assuring Michael of his loyalty while also sketching an outline for a potential compromise:
If ever they would correct the addition to the holy creed, I would demand nothing else, leaving as a matter of indifference, along with all the other matters, even their fault regarding the unleavened bread. And this although I have clearly demonstrated in what I sent to the bishop of Venice that the meal in which our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ offered the mystery of the holy teaching to his disciples took place before Passover, at which time it was not required to eat unleavened bread. And this also I exhort Your Divine Blessedness to accept, so that you may not, by demanding everything, lose everything.
Fast-forward about five hundred years. For the most part, Rome has given up any hope of corporate reunion between East and West. Now it has devised a new strategy. Instead, the Vatican courts pro-Western bishops in the Orthodox Church individually. In exchange for submitting to the Pope, Rome will allow these bishops—along with their priests, monastics, laymen, etc.—to form their own sui juris churches, maintaining their distinct ecclesial identity (albeit under Roman rule). These “Eastern Catholics” would be allowed to maintain most of their liturgical and spiritual practices. This movement was known as the Unia; those who belong to the Eastern Catholic churches were known as uniates, though the term is now considered derogatory.
This offer is taken up eagerly by several groups on the margins of the Orthodox Church—for instance, the Ukrainians. Originally, Ukraine belonged to Russian civilization; its Christians therefore belonged to the Russian Orthodox Church. Beginning in the 14th century, however, the region increasingly came under control by two Catholic powers, Lithuania and Poland. With the formation of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in 1569, Orthodox leaders began to fear that, before long, they would be absorbed into the Roman Church. So in 1596 all but two Ukrainian Orthodox bishops signed the Union of Brest, creating the Ukrainian Greek-Catholic Church.
By the year 1700, eight new uniate churches had been established. Seven came from the former Russian Empire; one, the Chaldean Catholic Church, came from the Middle East. This is not counting the Maronites who (rather dubiously) claim never to have broken with Rome. In any event, the Unia was gathering momentum. But while the Vatican had managed to woo dozens of Orthodox metropolitans, they had yet to win over a single patriarchate.
So, it set its sights on Antioch. It was the natural choice. As we’ve seen, the Antiochians took a more tolerant—some might say indulgent—view of the wayward Westerners.
The Vatican began by establishing a mission to the Arabs. These missionaries founded Catholic schools and Latin parishes. They distributed money, food, and medicine during times of hardship. The Catholics’ wealth and erudition deeply impressed the Arabs. Their own “Golden Age” had ended centuries before; the Turks were now the keepers of Islamic civilization (as it were). The Sublime Porte didn’t favor Arabs, either—especially not those who followed the Greek Church. Arab Christians with pro-Catholic sympathies received favorable treatment from European merchants, while European diplomats curried favor with the Ottomans on their behalf. The only Orthodox government to offer them financial support was the Russian, whose pockets weren’t quite as deep as those of the Kingdom of France.
Quickly, two factions emerged within the Church of Antioch. One camp supported a compromise with Rome, even if that meant alienating the other Eastern patriarchates. The other camp wished to remain faithful to Orthodoxy. On several occasions, the Antiochians fell into schism, with each camp supporting a different claimant to the patriarchal throne. Following the Union of Brest, Antioch openly supported the Orthodox recusancy based in Lviv . But whatever their personal convictions, most patriarchs were happy to play both sides.
Matters came to a head in the year 1724, when Patriarch Athanasius III Dabbas—a member of the pro-Orthodox camp—fell asleep in the Lord. His chosen successor was a Greek deacon named Sylvester. Sylvester’s appointment was supported by the powerful congregation of Aleppo; the deacon was on Athos at the time of Athanasius’s death, and so the Aleppans wrote to Constantinople recalling him. However, an election was held by the congregation of Damascus, which was no less powerful. The Damascenes elected a pro-Catholic, Cyril VI Tanas.
Unlike previous schisms in the Antiochian Church, the split of 1724 proved to be permanent. Those who follow Sylvester and his successors are known as the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate of Antioch; those who follow Cyril and his successors are known as the Melkite Greek Catholic Church.
While the Antiochians were known as pro-Catholic Orthodox, the Melkites have always been pro-Orthodox Catholics. This is due, in no small part, to the fact that the schism was peaceful (at least compared to the uniate schisms in the Russian Empire, where the uniates have suffered persecution by the Russian government and Orthodox vigilantes). The transition was also helped by the fact that Rome had required few if any concessions from Antioch.
This meant that, for over a century, the Melkites’ position remained unclear. It was easy Melkites themselves to believe that Rome respected their patriarchal status: for the most part, the Vatican simply left them alone. Then again, the heads of the Maronite Catholic Church and the Chaldean Catholic Church also styles themselves as Patriarch of Antioch. The Melkites’ claim to that title was by far the strongest of the three, and yet Rome continued (and continues) to acknowledge the Maronite and Chaldean claimants as well. As far as the Vatican is concerned, there are three Patriarchs of Antioch—in which case, some might say, there may as well be zero.
The First Vatican Council brought a certain amount of clarity, though not as much as one might expect. The Melkite delegation walked out before the vote, as did many Latins who opposed Pius IX’s claim to infallibility. Vatican I became a “rump synod,” as one commentator put it: with the dissenters cleared out, the council fathers sided overwhelmingly with Pius. Nevertheless, the Pope ordered the dissident bishops to sign a declaration affirming their belief in his infallibility. When the Vatican’s emissaries demanded the Melkite patriarch, Gregory II Youssef, sign the final documents, he did so—but added a qualification, which he lifted from the Council of Florence: “except the rights and privileges of Eastern patriarchs.”
The next time Gregory was in Rome, while keeling at the Pope’s feet, Pius placed his knee on the Patriarch’s shoulder and shouted, “Testa dura! Testa dura!” (Stubborn, stubborn!)
Naturally, the Melkites chaffed under Vatican I’s hyperpapalist ecclesiology. Little wonder they welcomed the Second Vatican Council and the opportunity for a reset. In fact, Patriarch Maximos IV Sayegh emerged as one of the most important council fathers. He led a campaign for delatinization: the restoration of Orthodox liturgical and spiritual practices within the Eastern Catholic churches. The cause of delatinization was warmly embraced by Vatican II. Things were looking up.
Then, in the 1970s, a Melkite archbishop named Elias Zoghby made a bold proposal. He suggested that Eastern Catholics (like the Melkites) should begin to heal the Great Schism by declaring a “double communion” with both the Catholic and Orthodox churches. The proposal—known today as the Zoghby Initiative—was quickly rejected by both Rome and Constantinople, but it captured the imagination of the Melkite leadership.
In 1995, by a vote of twenty-four to two, the Melkite Synod of Bishops ratified a statement of faith written by Archbishop Elias Zoghby, which had only two points: “(1) I believe everything which Eastern Orthodoxy teaches. (2) I am in communion with the Bishop of Rome as the first among the bishops, according to the limits recognized by the Holy Fathers of the East during the first millennium, before the separation.” This text is sometimes known as the Zoghby Declaration.
Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, then head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith, sent the Melkites a sniffy letter reminding them that it is not possible to be both fully Orthodox and fully Catholic. I’ve heard a rumor that Ratzinger wanted to demand a retraction from the Synod but was stopped by Pope John Paul II. In any event, Rome did not force the Melkites to recant. And they didn’t—or, rather, they hadn’t.
This year marks the 300th anniversary of the schism in the Church of Antioch. Naturally, Melkite leaders are taking the opportunity to reflect on their church’s history and identity.
Last week, the current Melkite patriarch, Youssef I Absi, gave a speech on the Zoghby Initiative. Youssef briefly recalls of the events described above before asking:
We wonder whether Patriarch Tanas and the movement for union that was with him, when they requested that the See of Rome recognize them—and recognition means communion—were clearly aware as to whether this communion was with Peter or under Peter. Did they believe that the Patriarchate of Antioch would remain as it had been with the See of Rome, that is, as between equals? The position of Patriarch Gregory II at the First Vatican Council gives the impression that the answer is yes, that communion in their view was, until that council, between equals. But it seems that in the end Patriarch Gregory affirmed the acts of the council and it has become clear that communion in the view of the Roman See is between a leader and those led.
He then quotes his Orthodox counterpart, Patriarch John X of Antioch, as asking the Melkites: “Fraternally, I leave it to those who departed from us and joined the West, in accordance with an agreement that allowed them to preserve their rituals and maintain their patriarchal system, to evaluate the results of their choice.”
Reading all of this, one might expect Youssef to announce that he was leading the Melkites back into communion with the Orthodox. Instead, Youssef officially put an end to the Zoghby Initiative:
The initiative taken by the Melkite Greek Catholics was, in short, that we Melkite Greek Catholics be in communion with the Antiochian Greek Orthodox and the See of Rome at the same time. We reconcile, in our opinion, our eastern, Antiochian Byzantine identity and our communion with the Church of Rome. In my opinion, this initiative was incorrect from its very beginning because the solution is not in our hands alone, but also in the hands of the Orthodox and the Catholics. It is a trilateral solution that requires the agreement of the three sides. Those who called it an emotional initiative, fated not to succeed, were correct. . . .
I believe that the issue of our position was settled from the time that we restored union with the Church of Rome, but perhaps we do not want to say it explicitly: in dogma and canon law, we are Catholics, and in liturgy and sacramental life we are Byzantines. We wanted, in all sincerity, to be a bridge, but in reality from the very beginning we planted our feet on the Western side.
It’s difficult to overemphasize the importance of this moment in the history of Catholic-Orthodox relations.
As we said, the Unia began largely as an effort by Orthodox Christians in Western lands to prevent Latinization. (This is a big generalization, of course, though it’s truer than not.) The Melkites, on the other hand, joined from a desire for unity with the Patriarch of Rome: the primus inter pares, the first among equals. In the last three centuries, any semblance of equality has vanished completely. Yet apparently Patriarch Youssef feels that communion with Rome is more important than preserving the “rights and privileges” spoken of by Florence and asserted by Gregory II, which are so quickly disappearing. (With all due respect, it is difficult even to call the office symbolic when Rome recognizes three Patriarchs of Antioch. And that’s not counting John, the Orthodox claimant—who, according to Roman ecclesiology, is a valid and licit hierarch.)
Also, how can the Melkites be sure that they will remain Byzantine in liturgy and sacramental life? Under Rome’s canon law, the Pope has absolute authority over every aspect of the Church’s liturgical and sacramental life. He could impose the Ordinary Form of the Roman Rite (i.e., the Novus Ordo) upon the entire Catholic Church, in both the East and West. Why not? In 1279, Pope Nicholas III wrote to the Byzantine emperor, Michael VIII Palaeologus. In his missive, Nicholas demanded that the Byzantine Church abandon the Divine Liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom and adopt the Tridentine Mass. “Unity of faith does not admit diversity in its confessors or confession,” the pontiff wrote. Would the Melkites comply? Or would they rejoin the Antiochian Orthodox?
Speaking of confessions, Nicholas also insisted that the Byzantines finally insert the filioque into the Nicene Creed. Rome did not make the same demand of the Melkites when they joined the Unia; otherwise, they would have rejected the Unia outright. During various waves of Latinization, the Vatican has pressured different Eastern Catholic churches to adopt the filioque, but the Melkites have always been exempted. No doubt Rome recognized that they would have preferred to rejoin the Orthodox Church than adopt the Western Creed. Still, in theory, Francis or any future pope could insist that the Melkite Church begin using the filioque. It seems Youssef is preemptively agreeing to obey such a ruling.
This is a startling development for all who know and love the Melkite Church. Still, it has implications for the entire Body of Christ.
Rumor has it that next year the Pope Francis and the Ecumenical Patriarch, Bartholomew of Constantinople, will agree upon a joint date for the celebration of Easter. There are even rumors that the E.P. will allow Catholics to receive communion in their churches. Now, granted, the Ecumenical Patriarchate has far less power than outsiders may realize: Bartholomew only has direct jurisdiction over a few thousand souls in Turkey. Every other Orthodox jurisdiction is governed by its own synod, and may reject Bartholomew’s decision. Most (if not all) Orthodox churches which trace their origins to the Russian Church would strongly reject intercommunion. Those that come from the Greek tradition, however, would probably be split. Most bishops of the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America will follow the E.P.; as for the Church of Greece, the Church of Cyprus, the Church of Antioch… that isn’t so clear.
But here we have the Melkite Patriarch—the jewel in the crown of the Unia—openly admitting that it is impossible to be a faithful Orthodox Christian within the Roman communion. To my mind, this could only serve to complicate Orthodox-Catholic ecumenism—which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Ever since Pope Paul VI and Ecumenical Patriarch Athenagoras lifted their mutual excommunications in 1964, there has been a rush to wrap up the Great Schism as quickly and painlessly as possible. Yet the Orthodox and Catholic churches are, if anything, more divided today than they were in 1054. True, there are good vibes passing back and forth between Rome and Constantinople all the time. But in terms of theology, ecclesiology, spirituality, and liturgy, the gap between East and West continues to widen.
If intercommunion is restored at any point in the near future, it will only be because Rome and Constantinople have decided that the questions which divided our fathers simply don’t matter—that we moderns are above such petty squabbles. This, of course, is the whole point of modern ecumenism, which is really a form of indifferentism. Every church agrees to water down its doctrines until each denomination “tastes” the same.
And this, from the Orthodox perspective, might be the best-case scenario. What’s more likely is that the Orthodox bishops will slowly be absorbed into the papal “machine.” They will be required to assent, at least formally, to more and more Roman doctrines (the Immaculate Conception, the filioque, papal infallibility, etc.) if they wish to maintain communion with the Roman patriarch. Before very long, they will most likely cease to be Orthodox altogether.
This is why I’ve become deeply concerned about the future of ecumenism between our two churches. Francis, like his more recent predecessors, is keen to woo the Orthodox. Several recent gesures, such as his assent to the Alexandria Document and restoration of the title “Patriarch of the West” (one of the few papal titles of which the Orthodox approve), makes for good P.R. Yet it becomes increasingly clear that papal power is growing, not diminishing. Witness the heavy-handed treatment of Latin-Mass Catholics.
It’s also obvious that Francis and his allies are working to gradually move the Catholic Church further and further from the Apostolic Faith. Many are celebrating the Vatican’s recent document inveighing against sex-reassignment surgery. And this is a good thing! But remember that in 2021 the Vatican solemnly declared (to Orthodox fanfare) that same-sex couples could not receive special blessings in the Catholic Church. Then, just two years later, Francis signed Fiducia Supplicans authorizing blessings for same-sex couples.
Was the Pope being deceptive in 2021? Or did he simply change his mind? Either way, this papacy inspires little confidence in the hearts of faithful Catholics. I’m no longer sure why any Orthodox bishop would feel comfortable doing business with this particular pope, whatever his virtues.
Really, if I was a conspiracy nut, I would say the Melkite Patriarch was trying to sabotage Nicaea 2025 and any attempts to create a paper unity between Rome and Constantinople—especially one that would, in time, require the Greek bishops to sacrifice their “rights and privileges” and, ultimately, betray the Orthodox Faith.
Youssef I Absi—Patriarch of Antioch for the Melkite Greek Catholic Church—has said it is impossible to be “Orthodox in communion with Rome.” Listen to him.
It's the Syriac Catholics, not the Chaldeans, who have the third Catholic patriarchate of Antioch. And then, apart from the Orthodox patriarchate, there is the fifth Antiochian patriarchate, that of the Syriac Orthodox (Jacobite).
I was as surprised by the Patriarch's words as you were. The Zoghby Initiative is foundational to a great number of Melkites' self-conception. I myself worshiped with the Melkites for years and eventually even transferred my ascription from the Latin Church to the Melkite Church. It was among the Melkites that I was first introduced to the treasures of the Byzantine Liturgy and the Orthodox Church. The tensions and self-contradictions of their situation, however, were always a concern to me. Rome has certain expectations of its faithful and it makes little sense to allow the Melkites a kind of exemption from Latin dogma. Papal Supremacy, as defined at V1, is a dogmatically proclaimed truth that Catholics can no more reject than the solemn proclamations of V2, Trent, or Chalcedon. Finding myself more in agreement with the Orthodox, I eventually made the decision (with my family) to become Orthodox. In a way, the Patriarch's words may be a blessing of sorts. The Zoghby Initiative was never going to work. You can't live on a bridge. Bridges are for crossing. The Melkites have to decide which side of the river they want to live on.
I'm less concerned that the EP will attempt some sort of corporate reunion with Rome. While there are those under the EP who might welcome such a development, the Athonites would riot. I think much of the Greek Church (in Greece) would as well. The Antiochians themselves have generally been more aligned with the slavic churches, having chafed under Greek rule and owing the restoration of their autocephaly to Russian force of arms. In the reunion scenario you describe, I think the EP would quickly find himself in a rump church outside of the broader Orthodox communion. I think he knows that too.