Byzantine canon law is a subject that most of us steer clear of. It lacks the uplift of the best theology and the concrete factuality of events and practices. And in comparison with the codification of civil and imperial law by Justinian and the systematisation of canon law in the later medieval West, it appears primitive and haphazard, a set of particular rules without structure or a conceptual framework. David Wagschal does not reverse this picture, but brings to light aspects of Byzantine church law that enable a fairer appreciation of it, when interpreted with reference to the ideology of the Byzantine Church.

For many readers this book will serve as a general introduction to the corpus of Byzantine church law. It sets out clearly how the corpus was built up (the table on pp. 55–6 is particularly helpful). The original nucleus consisted of the canons of Nicaea, the so-called apostolic canons taken from the Apostolic constitutions and believed to be genuinely apostolic, and the canons of several fourth-century local synods, which as orthodox were recognised as authoritative even outside their localities. Subsequently the decrees of later ecumenical councils were added, and also a body of patristic canons, such as those of St Basil. Beyond these elements different collections appended various additional material, whose authority depended not on official authorisation but on its kinship to the common core. Material was added, but not taken away. If an earlier canon disagreed with a later one, it was not deleted.

To make these collections easier to refer to they came to include topical titles or headings, under which were listed either the full canons themselves (thereby departing from the traditional arrangement by origin) or a concise reference (such as ‘Nicaea 8’). In a lengthy (perhaps too lengthy) chapter Wagschal asks whether the composition of these titles was an attempt at systematisation, at developing broader and more abstract legal concepts. He concludes that by and large it was not. These titles were scarcely more than an index, whose wording kept as closely as possible to the canons themselves. For the canons (as Wagschal emphasises) were church laws, but did not create a system of church law.

More significant are the prologues at the beginning of many canonical collections. It would be easy to dismiss these as rhetorical flourishes, with their appeals to the pedagogical function of law in taming the passions, their kinship to the injunctions of both Testaments, and the contribution that they make to the whole process of salvation. But Wagschal argues persuasively that the Byzantines did not perceive church law as an autonomous body of rules with its basis in specifically legal concepts, but as one constituent element in that greater whole, the economy of salvation.

From this followed the traditionalism of these canonical collections – their fidelity to a basic core of fourth-century origin, their confidence that the law had a changeless character and purpose that was in continuity with its biblical foundation. It is here that this study takes on an importance that deserves the attention of all students of patristics and Byzantine studies. The traditionalism of Christian doctrine is familiar to all of us: already in the second century the chief argument against heresy was that it was innovative. The full scope of this traditionalism is revealed when it is perceived to have extended into the sphere of legal prescription. And in this context the notion of ‘living tradition’ loses its abstraction: we can see as we study the canons how immutability did not mean ossification, since their essential note was not repetition but a common grounding in the patristic inheritance, to which was attributed in practice the same authority as that of Scripture.

This book remains a study of the canonical collections precisely as collections. It does not treat the content of individual canons, save occasionally for purposes of illustration; it does not discuss the occasion and purposes of the issuing of new canons, notably at several of the ecumenical councils. Nor does it treat the actual application of the law in particular and individual cases.

While stressing that Byzantine church law was not conceived as a set of rules to be applied literally as in much modern administration of law, Wagschal concedes that such application was common in practice, whatever the broader ideological framework. A footnote refers the reader to my translation of the Acts of Chalcedon as ‘an excellent platform for such a study’ (p. 282). This surprises me. To take the trial of Dioscorus, the Acts stress that the correct canonical process was followed and that he was deposed for serious wrongdoing, but it was not thought necessary to convict him of breaking any particular canons. At Session x a list of eighteen charges against Ibas of Edessa was read out; at no point is a canon cited. There was no principle of nullum crimen sine lege, so self-evident principles of proper conduct were as good as codified canons. Even the basic procedural rules could be relaxed. Session xiv of Chalcedon treated the case of Athanasius of Perrhe, and ordered a retrial, even though two earlier condemnations had fulfilled all the canonical requirements and their annulment at Ephesus II had itself been rejected as invalid. It was this more than anything that made it unnecessary for the Byzantines to develop their church laws into a comprehensive system comparable to modern law codes.

The book ends with a final chapter that draws the threads together in a masterly fashion. I would advise readers to start with this chapter. But the whole book is to be read. It is highly coherent, well structured, with conclusions that are precisely instructive but possess a wider significance beyond legal studies. It is a book that deserves to inspire yet further research into this important body of material.