This article explores the theoretical and functional use of the term ‘schism’ in Eastern Christianity from its earliest use in the New Testament through the thirteenth century. While influential theological authorities such as Irenaeus of Lyon and Basil of Caesarea developed precise, technical definitions for what constituted a schism, the rhetorical excesses of ecclesiastical adversaries often deliberately blurred the distinction between schism and heresy. The article pays particular attention to lesser-known events, such as the Acacian Schism and the inner-Byzantine Schism of the thirteenth century, as well as the more well-known schisms such as the Photian Schism of the ninth century and the permanent break between Rome and Constantinople in 1054. The article concludes with an examination of what was and what was not severed between Christian communities in times in schism.

This chapter critiques dominant frameworks in the study of modern Arabic literature that rely on a “cartographic imaginary” of modernity – mapping texts through binaries like tradition/modernity and East/West. Focusing on Muhammad al-Muwaylihi’s Hadith ‘Isa ibn Hisham, it challenges readings that treat the text as a transitional or hybrid form. Instead, it proposes a formalist approach that centers the concept of athar (trace) to understand how the text constructs historical consciousness and mediates between private and public life. Through episodic scenes, the narrative teaches readers to “see history” in material and social transformations, offering a pedagogical model of literary form. The chapter urges a shift from spatialized readings to historicized formal analysis, positioning Arabic literature as a site of theoretical engagement with modernity rather than a passive reflection of it.

When Constantinople was first laid out by emperor Constantine as a new imperial city in 330 it possessed only a small community of Christians with a bishop responsible to the provincial metropolitan. By the death of emperor Heraclius in 641, it had become the sole imperial capital of the Roman empire with an ‘ecumenical patriarch’ whose jurisdiction covered Thrace, most of Asia Minor and the Caucasus. Christianity had become the religion of the Roman emperor and people. Constantinople was replete with churches and monasteries, had defined its orthodox doctrinal position through a series of church councils, had its operations and even beliefs reinforced by imperial law, and had established a distinctive liturgy and ecclesiastical calendar that combined local and universal events. What marked out Constantinople was the unique relationship of emperor and bishop, emperor and people, facilitated by the physical proximity of palace, church and patriarchate. This chapter traces the development of all these foundation stones of the Byzantine church from the fourth to the seventh century.

This chapter explores the importance of monasticism in the Orthodox church. It begins by outlining the various forms of Byzantine monasticism, from the reclusive (or eremitic) to the fully socialised (or coenobitic) and living arrangements somewhere in between (the lavriotic). The chapter argues that monasticism gave the Church not only a practical way of engaging with the needs of the community—providing various services such as aged care—but also a powerful expression of the symbolic. Using rich poetic evocations of Romanos the Melodist and Kassia on monastic life, the chapter shows how the figure of the monk or nun represented the angelic capabilities of people who dedicate themselves to God. Finally, the chapter explores the emotional difficulties of monasticism. The rigorous ascetic practices and the relinquishment of personal desires resulted in a variety of emotional struggles, including feelings of isolation and occasional frustration. This sentiment is often referred to as acedia or the ‘noonday devil’. In spite of these stresses, the chapter concludes that the monasteries provided a keynote for religious practice that clinches the highest spiritual aspirations of the Church.

This chapter explores how lay people participated in liturgical singing in the fourth through sixth centuries. Unlike Byzantine writers who explained or analysed particular emotions, liturgical poets situated singers within, beside and against the feelings animating a particular biblical event and its ritualisation. Three types of liturgical singing are the focus of this investigation: 1) psalmody in Jerusalem, as described by the late-fourth-century pilgrim Egeria and prescribed a fifth-century book of ritual instructions (known today as the Armenian Lectionary); 2) sixth-century hymns composed by Romanos the Melodist for specific feast days in Constantinople; 3) a Jerusalem chantbook, which survives in Georgian translation, which expands on biblical odes sung as part of daily lay worship. Although the melodies of these songs are lost, their lyrics provide valuable insights into lay people’s emotions in early Byzantine Jerusalem and Constantinople. With closer attention to performative dimensions of these songs, historians may better understand the emotional experiences of lay congregations.

This chapter surveys Byzantine pneumatology in three directions. First, it undertakes to present a synopsis of the Spirit’s divine identity and hypostatic particularities in polemical contexts, as illustrated by Athanasius’ Letters to Serapion, Basil’s On the Holy Spirit, Gregory of Constantinople’s Fifth Theological Oration, and Photios’ Mystagogy of the Holy Spirit. Second, and drawing on some of these and other patristic sources (Basil’s Homilies on the Hexaemeron, John Chrysostom’s Homilies on Genesis) in addition to liturgical texts such as the matins antiphons, the chapter addresses aspects of the Spirit’s economy, such as its participation in creation, providence and sanctification. Third, it considers matters pertaining to the Spirit’s presence in the lives of glorified saints according to Cyril of Alexandria’s Commentary on John and Homilies on Luke, Maximos the Confessor’s Ambigua, various Byzantine homilists, Symeon the New Theologian’s Discourses and hesychast writings (Gregory of Sinai, Gregory Palamas).

Representations of Heaven and Hell were of paramount importance in Byzantine monumental art to help the faithful visualise the eternal consequences of their actions. This chapter will explore the synergy between liturgy and the representations of Heaven and Hell within the space of the Byzantine church. Together they alerted all the senses and created a lasting impact on the faithful congregation, an ‘image’ which they could carry with them outside the spatial confinements of the church to enhance their chances in their quest of Paradise. To achieve this, the chapter will engage four case studies dated to the late Byzantine period: the Chora monastery in Constantinople (terminus ante quem 1321), a monument that epitomises Palaiologan art, and three examples from Venetian Crete, a former Byzantine territory that remained religiously and culturally closely attached to the dying empire until 1453. These examples present distinctly different moments in reaching Paradise: Church of St John the Baptist, Deliana (c. 1300?), where the gates of Paradise are depicted hermetically closed; Chora Monastery and Church of the Holy Apostles, Kavousi (first decade of the fifteenth century), where St Peter is about to open the gates of Paradise; and Church of St John the Baptist, Axos (1390s), where the gates of Paradise are open.