Ex Cathedra

 •  6 min. read  •  grade level: 12
 
Chapter 2 (continued.)
THE illustration here given is taken from an ancient gem, and carries us back to a period before Constantine. The fish is perhaps the symbol that better than any other represents the Christianity of the catacombs. Indeed, it represents the creed of the catacombs, and the most ancient of Catholic creeds. The persecutions and general necessities of the times required that believers should put all distinctive truth into the briefest possible form. The result of continued effort in this direction was embodied in the symbol of the fish. Now the letters forming the Greek word fish, ΙΧθϒΣ furnish the initials to the five articles of their creed, namely,
In this ancient gem, therefore, we have symbolized Christ, all Christ, and nothing but Christ, which is the essence of the Scriptures. This word engraven on the back of the chair proves that the seat belonged to and represented Christ, and could be occupied by no other person than Christ. Would that the Church had to this day maintained this glorious primitive Christianity.
The symbol of the fish in the hands of the Martyr Church seemed to lend itself to the expression of almost every Christian sentiment, and the symbol only fell into disuse when the Scriptures were no longer regarded as the source of life, and sacramentarianism had taken their place.
We give an illustration, representing a dolphin, the king of fish, with a trident, crushing the head of a polypus which has seven tentacles. Christ is thus portrayed in the power of His cross, triumphing over pagan Rome, the polypus, and its seven hills. On the right hand a small fish will be observed. This is the piscinculus of Tertullian. It rests in steady balance, and without a curve, the indication of fear, awaiting the end of the monster's agony. God had promised to bruise Satan shortly under the feet of believers,1 and this is the interpretation by the early Roman Church of the promise.
The year 325 A.D. is notable in Church history as that during which the first General Council, convened in Nicea, was held. The accompanying illustration is an enlargement of a part of a photograph of a painting in the Pope's library. The picture is interesting because of the position in it occupied by the "chair" or throne. This occupies its center, and in the chair is represented not the Bishop, or the Pope, but a volume of the. Scriptures! Other points of the picture are not according to history, but the position given to the throne and the Word of God is perfectly accurate.
Even to this day, before a General Council is opened, the Word of God is carried with great pomp to a throne placed in the center of the building in which the assembly is gathered. "Before the opening of the sittings one places the Book of the Gospels, which is the symbol of Jesus Christ speaking to men." Let the reader connect this with Fig. 4 on page 57. "Upon a throne covered with rich draperies, whence He seems to preside over the assembly, and to demand that judgment shall be dictated by justice."2
Cyril of Alexandria, who presided at the Council of Ephesus, writes: "The Holy Synod, assembled in the church, called Mary, constituted Christ its Head. The venerable Gospels were placed upon the sacred throne, thus suggesting to the fathers to judge justly."3 Thus was the presence, the lordship, and the government of Christ, by means of His own Word, expressed with unmistakable clearness. Such were the ideas of the early Church. Those present at the Council of Nicæa had heard the supremacy of the Scriptures preached not only in their own churches, but also in the catacombs. It is said in a legend of that time, that three hundred and eighteen delegates were present at that Council, but that when the counting took place, there was always found to be three hundred and nineteen, and that they never succeeded in getting a sight of the unseen presence, whom they were, never the less, obliged to reckon of their number.. Thus Christ was recognized to a large extent by the early Church as its Ruler, though mist was rising which was to obscure the unseen Shepherd of the Christian flock.
The Bible in the chair, as represented in the illustration, is possibly the Codex Vaticanus, and probably the most ancient copy of the Bible in existence. The vellum on which it is written is the best that imperial command could procure, and the workmanship is of the highest quality that was then available. Not only in later Councils, but also in earlier ones—and, judging from the proportions of the sacred volume in the picture above-mentioned, perhaps in that of Nicæa itself—this copy was placed on the throne in the center of the assembly, and revered as the throne of Christ, the Head of the Church, Who ruled in their midst from this chair or seat of righteous judgment.
But how sadly has Rome forsaken the true position of the Church. The real chair of the apostles—that is, the platform and basis of their doctrine—the true chair, or seat of Christ, the only Head and Ruler of the Church—that is, the Scripture—has been long since hidden away in the Vatican Library, while the place of honor which belongs to it among Christians has been usurped by a meaningless and corrupting piece of furniture! What awful departure is witnessed by these facts from the principles of the early Church and those of modern Rome. The early Church recognized Christ in its midst, and the teachings of the Word of God as its authority. Papal Rome has substituted for these realities—a literal chair!
The crown which is represented on the chair signified the Savior's royal right to reign, and His present spiritual reign over His people.
Thus we have been led into a sphere of Christian experience and testimony in which the heresies which cluster round the Papal symbol—the old chair in St. Peter's—have no existence. In proportion as we raised the dark medieval veil which obscured the ideal chair, its outline, if faint, was nevertheless discernible, and at last we saw the written volume of Christ reappear in central and truly Catholic authority, which the unanimous voices of General Councils saluted as the throne of the present, governing Christ, the Head of the Church.
In our next article, leaving behind basilicas and councils, we shall descend into the heart Of the catacombs of Rome and gather evidence of the power and virtue of the Word, which to those Christians was not only letter, but also life and spirit—indeed, the eternal Logos.