The Tombs of the Martyrs.
(Homily on the Martyrs, Benedictine Edition, t. ii., p. 667.)
The feasts of the martyrs are not according to the course of days only, but they are reckoned also by the disposition of those who celebrate them. For instance, have you imitated a martyr, have you emulated his goodness, have you pressed on in the footsteps of his ascetic life? Then, though it is not a martyr’s day, you have celebrated a martyr’s feast. For to honour a martyr is to imitate him. Just as evil-doers are feastless in the midst of feasts, so the righteous, even if there be no solemnity, have carried out one. The feast is characterised by purity of conscience. This Paul expressed clearly: Therefore, let us keep the feast not in the old leaven of evil and wickedness, but in the unleavened bread of purity and truth. There is, then, unleavened bread amongst the Jews, and so there is amongst us; but with them it consists of wheaten flour, with us in a pure life and in remaining spotless. Thus, he who wards off every stain keeps a feast every day, is ever celebrating a solemnity not only on the feast of the martyr or at his shrine, but also sitting at home. Every man can keep the martyr’s feast by himself. In saying this I do not mean that we should not go to the tombs of the martyrs. I mean that, being there, we should frequent these places with befitting devotion, not only on their days, but that we should show the same piety out of their days. Who would not revere this gathering of ours to-day, this splendid sight, the fervent charity and glowing spirit, the boundless love, which are here manifested? Nearly all the city has been eager to come; fear of his master has not withheld the servant; no straits of poverty, no feebleness of age, have kept the poor or the old away; no tenderness of sex in women, no extreme of luxury has hindered the rich, no folly of power the ruler. But a longing for the martyrs vanquishing all such disparity, both the weakness of nature and the stress of poverty hold together by one bond the vast multitude gathered here, who are moved by the wings of this desire to live the life of the heavenly citizens. For, treading under foot all allurements to excess and wickedness, you are consumed with longing for the martyrs. As with the dawn of day wild animals flee away and take shelter in their own holes, so when the light of the martyrs bursts upon our minds all diseases are put to flight and the bright flame of mortification is enkindled. And let us keep this fire alive not now only, but always, when this spiritual spectacle has been broken up; let us retire to our own homes with the same fervour, not giving ourselves up to taverns, or dissoluteness, or drunkenness, or feastings. You have made night into day through these sacred vigils: do not again make day into night through inebriation, and gluttony, and meretricious songs. You have honoured the martyrs by your presence, your attention, and your fervour: honour them by going modestly home, lest anyone seeing you taking your ease in a low place should say that you came not on account of the martyrs, but to increase your passion and to incite your bad desires. This I say, prohibiting not feasting but sin, prohibiting not wine but drunkenness. It is not the wine which is evil, it is intemperance. Wine is the gift of God, intemperance is the devil’s invention.... Intemperance is ever an evil, beloved brethren, and most of all on the feast day of the martyrs. Together with the sin, it is a most open contempt and folly and putting aside of the divine words; hence the chastisement would be double. If, therefore, you have come to the martyrs and mean afterwards to drink, you had better remain at home and not shame nor insult the martyrs’ feast, nor scandalise your neighbour, nor distort your understanding, nor add to your sins. You came to look upon men who were racked with torments, covered with blood, and adorned with wounds, who gave up this present life and took their flight to the life above. Show yourself worthy of those wrestlers. They despised life, do you despise luxury; they renounced their life in this world, do you renounce the craving for drink. Do you wish for feasting? Remain by the martyr’s tomb, weep there a fountain of tears, grieve in your mind, take a blessing from that tomb. Let it assist you in your prayers; make the account of his fight your constant reading; embrace the coffin; nail yourself to the shrine. Not only the bones of the martyrs, but their tombs also and their coffins, produce an abundant blessing. Take holy oil and sign your whole body with it, your tongue, your lips, your throat and eyes, and you will avoid the abyss of drunkenness.
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The Bodies of the Martyrs.
(Homily on the Martyrs, Benedictine Edition, t. ii., p. 650.)
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Yesterday was the martyrs’ feast, and so is to-day. Would that we could be always keeping the feast of the martyrs! For if those who are mad after theatres, and who gape open-mouthed at horses racing, cannot have enough of those foolish spectacles, how much more should we be insatiable for the feasts of the saints. In the one place there is a diabolical pomp, in the other a Christian feast: in the one place devils are revelling, in the other angelic choirs are singing: in the one place souls are lost, in the other there is salvation for all who are gathered together. Do not theatres offer any pleasure at all? If they do, not such as the other. What pleasure, indeed, is there in seeing horses running senselessly to and fro? In the other case, you see, not brute animals yoked together, but countless chariots of martyrs, and God as charioteer in the midst of them, leading the way to heaven. Listen to the prophet saying that the souls of the saints are God’s chariot: God’s chariots are ten thousand fold, and thousands those who rejoice. That which He has made a gift to the powers above, He has granted to our nature also. He sits upon the cherubim, as the psalm says: He ascended upon the cherubim, and He flew; and again: He who sitteth upon the cherubim and looketh into the abysses. This He has given to us also. He sits on them, He dwells in us. I will abide in you and will walk in you, He says. They have become His chariot, let us become His temple. See you how these honours are akin? See you how He has reconciled the things above and the things below? Therefore, if we choose, we are in nothing removed from the angels! As I began by saying, yesterday was the martyrs’ feast, and to-day is the martyrs’ feast: not the martyrs who are amongst us here, but those who are in the country, or rather, they also are with us. Town and country, in the business of this life, are distinct from each other, but as far as piety is concerned, they meet on the same ground. Tell me not, then, that they have the tongue of barbarians: look rather at their mortified minds. How does unity of language serve me where the spirit is not one? How does a different speech hurt me where there is harmony in the things of faith? According to this reasoning, the country is in no sort of way worse off than the town: they enjoy equality of privileges in the head and chief of good things. So it was that Our Lord Jesus Christ did not confine Himself to cities, and leave country places empty and deserted, but He went about through cities and villages, preaching the Gospel, and curing every sickness and disease.... This is why God sowed martyrs not in cities alone, but in the country too, so that we may use their feasts as a necessary opportunity of meeting each other, and oftener in the country than in the city. For God gave the greater honour to the inferior, as this member is weaker, and therefore enjoyed more attention. Dwellers in towns always have the benefit of teaching at their command, but not so those who live in remote places. God, therefore, comforting the poverty of the teachers in the fruitfulness of the martyrs, has ordained that the greater number should be buried in the country. They have not always the voice of teachers, but the voice of the martyr speaking to them from his tomb, and with more force. And that you may know that the martyrs speak more powerfully in their silence than we by our voice, it has often happened that many have discoursed to multitudes concerning goodness, and have effected nothing; whilst others, who said no word, have done wonders through the shining example of their life. Much more have the martyrs effected this, not raising the voice of their body, but the voice of their deeds, which is far louder than the voice of the mouth. Through this voice they speak to everyone of the human race in these words: ‘Look at us, and see what evils we have endured. What have we suffered in being condemned to death, and finding eternal life? We have been made worthy to lay down our bodies for Christ. If we had not offered them up then for Christ, in a little while we should have been obliged to put off this temporary life of theirs in spite of ourselves.[25] If martyrdom had not come upon us, the common death of nature would have dissolved our bodies. On this account we give thanks to God without ceasing for making us worthy to use inevitable death for the salvation of our souls, and for receiving as a gift from us, and with the greatest honour, that which was a matter of necessity. Are the torments oppressive and painful? If they are, they pass away in a moment of time, whilst the refreshment lasts during eternal ages. Nor are the torments painful even for one moment to those who have their eyes on what is to come, and who gaze intently upon the Judge. Because blessed Stephen saw Christ with the eyes of faith, he was not conscious of the volley of stones, but instead of the stones he was counting the rewards and crowns. So do you rise above present things to the contemplation of the future, and you will be insensible to even a brief consciousness of pain. This and much more is what the martyrs say, and they are far more persuasive than we are. For if I tell you that torment is not torment, my words are not to be trusted, for there is no difficulty about talking wisely. But the martyr, who speaks by his deeds, cannot be gainsaid. And, as with ordinary baths, when they are bubbling over with hot water, no one has the courage to jump in, as long as those who are sitting by the bath invite each other to enter by word only, they induce nobody to try. But as soon as one of them puts in either his hand or his foot, and, encouraged by the attempt, plunges in his whole body, by his silence he persuades those outside, more than the others by all they say, to try the bath; and so it is with the martyrs. In their case we have the stake instead of the bath. Those outside, by all their talk, do not carry much weight; yet, if a single martyr plunge in, not his foot nor his hand alone, but his whole body, he offers by his action something more forcible than any advice or preaching, and he stops the anxiety of those standing round. See you how the voice of the martyr is more powerful even in its silence? This is why God has left us their bodies. This is why, victorious of old, they have not yet risen. Combats, indeed, they endured not long ago, but they have not yet enjoyed the resurrection, and this for your greater benefit, that you, pondering that fight of theirs, may be incited to carry out your own race. They do not suffer in the least from the delay, whilst your profit is immense. After these things they will receive their reward, even if they do not now. If God were to take them away from us at this present time, He would cut off much strength and consolation; because true strength and consolation come to all men from the tombs of the saints, and you are witnesses of what I say. For often when we have used threats, kindness, tears, and exhortations, you were not moved to fervour in prayer, but going to the shrine, without any sermon, and merely seeing the tombs of the saints, you shed a fountain of tears, and warmed to your prayer although the martyr is lying there voiceless in a deep silence. Whence, then, comes the good to the conscience, which opens, as it were, the floodgates of tears? It is the sight of the martyr and the remembrance of all his good deeds. Just as when the poor see other men who are rich and in high offices attended by body-guards, and enjoying great honour from the king, learn to feel their poverty more keenly in the prosperity of others, so is it with us when we call to mind the fortitude which the martyrs showed towards God, the King of all their shining example and their glory, and remember our own sins. Their abundance makes our grief and sorrow at our poverty more poignant, and this consciousness shows us how far we are left behind them: hence come our tears. Again, God left us their bodies, so that whenever the pressure of earthly business and cares should shroud our minds in darkness,—for private and public affairs are full of this,—we should leave our house, go out of the city, bid farewell to these harassing thoughts, and seek out the shrine. We may enjoy the spiritual atmosphere there, forget our business, feed on peace, have the companionship of the saints, pray to Him Who is their judge for our own salvation, pour forth many supplications, and through all these means, lightening our conscience, may return home in much sweetness of spirit. The biers of the martyrs are nothing else than secure harbours, the sources of spiritual streams, inexhaustible treasures of wealth which are never consumed. And just as harbours receive vessels which have been much tossed by the waves, and place them in safety, so the biers of the martyrs receiving these spirits of ours, which are absorbed by the cares of life, establish them in great peace and security. Just as streams of cold water revive failing and scorched bodies, so do those resting-places calm souls which are burnt up with foul passions. The mere sight of them quenches evil cupidity, and wasting envy, and burning desires, and any other trouble of the same kind, and they are superior to treasures of great wealth. For treasures of money present many dangers to those who find them, and when divided into many parts become less in the distribution. Here there is nothing of this sort, for the attainment is without dangers. Contrary to what happens in material treasures, this division does not diminish this treasure. The former, as I said, are lessened by being divided. Now, when these are distributed amongst many, then it is that they most of all show what their riches are. For such is the nature of spiritual things that they are increased by distribution, and become greater by division. Meadows with their sight of roses and violets are not so delightful as the tombs of the martyrs which offer to souls who gaze upon them an indestructible and undying delight.
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The Tombs of the Servants.
(Οἱ τάφοι τῶν δοὺλων.)
(Homilies on Second Epistle to Corinthians, xxvi., vol. iii., p. 273.)
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Thus God has led all the saints through tribulation and distress, helping them on the one hand whilst securing the rest against conceiving an unduly high opinion of their merits. Thus it was in the beginning that idolatries prevailed by the excessive admiration lavished upon men, and in this way the Roman Senate decreed Alexander to be the thirteenth god. For it had this authority of electing and making gods. When the whole work of Christ became known the provincial ruler sent to enquire whether they thought He too should be a god. They would not agree to that, and were impatient and angry that the power of the Crucified, bursting forth before their vote and decree, had attracted the whole world to its own majesty. This was ordained even against their will, so that the divinity of Christ might not be preached by vote of man, and that He should not be looked upon as one of the many decreed by them to be divine. For they made pugilists gods, and the creatures of Hadrian’s infamous lust, whence, too, the city of Antinoos derives its name. For, since death bears witness against mortal nature, the devil lighted upon another way—the immortality of the soul, to which he joined gross flattery, and led many into impiety. What malice! Whenever we bring forward this argument in its proper place, he destroys it; but when he wishes to make an injurious use of it himself, he sets it up most zealously. If anyone should ask, ‘How is Alexander a god? Did he not die and die miserably?’ He answers, ‘But his spirit is immortal’. Then you think over in your mind the argument for immortality, and play the philosopher in order that you may turn men away from the God of all; but when we say that this is the greatest gift of God, you persuade those whom you cheat that we are low-minded and cringing, and nothing better than unreasoning animals. And if we were to say that the Crucified lives, they would indulge in great laughter at us, although the whole universe is crying out that He does live, and did cry out of old, then by signs, now by converts, for these successes do not belong to a dead man; but if some one declares that Alexander lives, you believe him, although he has no wonder whatever to bring forward in proof of it. ‘Yes, he has,’ you reply; ‘in his lifetime Alexander did many and great deeds, for he subdued peoples and cities, and made many victorious wars, and set up trophies.’ Now, if I am able to show you things which neither Alexander nor any other man of his day contemplated in his lifetime, what further proof of the resurrection do you require? That a living man, being a king, and having an army, should carry out wars and victories is neither astonishing nor wonderful; but to do things so great after crucifixion and the tomb, to do them over land and sea, this is truly awe-inspiring, and proclaims divine and infinite power. After his death Alexander did not hinder his empire from dissolution, and when it had disappeared did not bring it back again. How should a dead man do this? Now, Christ set up His kingdom in dying. And why do I speak of Christ, since He gave to His disciples also to become famous after death? Tell me, where is Alexander’s tomb? Show it to me and say what day he died. But the tombs of Christ’s servants are famous; they have taken possession of the most royal city, and their days are solemnly kept as a feast for the world. Whilst the one is unknown amongst his own countrymen, even barbarians are familiar with the other. And the tombs of the servants of the Crucified are more splendid than the courts of kings, not in the greatness and beauty of the monument, though in this, too, they are remarkable, but, what is far more, through the devotion of those who frequent them. And he who is clothed in the royal purple leaves his throne to embrace those tombs, and, putting off the garb of vanity, stands as a suppliant of the saints in order to make them his intercessors with God, and the crowned king has need of a dead tent-maker and a fisherman as patrons. I ask you, would you dare to call the Lord of these a dead man, Whose servants, though no longer here, are the protectors of the kings of the earth? And you may see this happening not in Rome alone, but also in Constantinople. For here, too, the son thought his father, Constantine the Great, most highly honoured if he might be buried in the vestibule of the Fisherman. What door-keepers in palaces are to kings, this kings are at the tombs of fishermen. The fishermen, like lords of the spot, have taken possession of what is within; the kings, like sojourners and neighbours, have been contented to have a separate place in the doorway, thus proving to unbelievers that pre-eminence in the resurrection will belong to fishermen. For if it be so here in the matter of tombs, how much more in the resurrection. And the order is reversed: kings become servants and subjects, whilst subjects are invested with regal dignity, or rather with something even greater. The truth itself shows that there is no flattery in the matter, for kings have become famous through these subjects of theirs. Their tombs are far more awe-inspiring than those of all kings put together; there is great solitude in the one and a great crowd at the other. If you wish to compare these tombs with royal courts, here again they carry off the palm. Many are the bustling people at the court, but at the tomb many are they who call and attract rich and poor, men and women, slaves and freemen. There is great fear at the one, and an unspeakable delight at the other. But it is a pleasant sight to look upon the king with his golden sceptre and his crown on his head, his guards standing near, and princes, and generals, and commanders, and officers high and low. Yet the spectacle presented by the other is so much more magnificent and ineffable, that, compared to it, the court would seem to be a puppet show and child’s play. You have hardly crossed the threshold when the place carries your mind up to heaven, to the King above, to the army of the angels, to the throne of the Most High, to glory unspeakable. At court it falls to the ruler’s part to release one man and to put another in chains; now, the bones of the saints have not this poor and miserable authority, but a power far greater. For they call forth demons and torture them, and release from their sharpest chains those who are bound. What is more awful than this tribunal? Whilst no one is seen and no one appears by the devil’s side, there are voices and convulsions, and blows and torments, and angry tongues, the devil not bearing that wonderful power. And they who carry those bodies have dominion over bodiless spirits: dust, and bones, and ashes, tear those invisible beings into pieces. So it is that no man would ever go a long journey to see royal palaces, whilst many kings have often travelled far for this spectacle. For the testimony of the saints furnishes a likeness and a symbol of the judgment to come, devils are punished, men are chastised and set free. See you the power of the saints even when they are dead, and the weakness of sinners even whilst living? Fly therefore from evil, that you may have dominion over these, and pursue goodness with all zeal. For, if things so wonderful take place here, judge what it will be like hereafter.
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PART III.
PERSONAL.
To Innocent, Bishop of Rome.[26]
To my most reverend Lord, and the most religious Bishop Innocent, John sends greeting in the Lord.
I think that before the reception of our letters your Piety will have heard of the iniquitous deed which has been attempted here; for the enormity of the evil has allowed scarcely a part of the world to be in ignorance of this direful tragedy. Report, carrying news of what has taken place to the farthest extremities of the earth, has everywhere called forth much wailing and lamentation. Since, however, it is not a question of tears alone, but of setting things straight and trying to find out how this most cruel tempest inflicted on the Church is to be stayed, I deem it necessary to urge my most honoured and reverend lords and bishops Demetrius, Pansophius, Pappo, and Eugenius to give up their own affairs, to brave the seas, and to set out on a long journey, and to hasten to your Charity, so that, when you have been clearly informed of all things, a remedy may be more speedily applied. With these we shall send the most esteemed and beloved of the deacons, Paul and Cyriacus. And I myself in the shape of a letter will inform your Charity briefly of what has taken place. Theophilus, being bishop of Alexandria, and certain men setting our most religious emperor against him, he was ordered to come here alone. Accompanied by not a few Egyptian bishops, he makes his appearance, as if wishing from the first to show that he comes to war and to fight us. Then, when he had arrived at great and heaven-favoured Constantinople, he did not come to the cathedral according to custom and old-established usage, nor did he visit us, nor did he take part in sermon, prayer, or communion, but on disembarking he passed by the vestibule of the church and established himself at a distance from the city, although we repeatedly invited him and those with him to stay with us, for lodgings and everything else needful for him were in readiness; neither they nor he would hear of it. Seeing this, I was much perplexed, not being able to imagine the cause of this unjust enmity. Still, we did our part and what was incumbent on us for them, and continually invited him to meet us and to say why he had thus made a quarrel with us from the very first and brought discord into so great a city. As he would not explain the reason, and as his accusers were urgent, our most religious emperor summoned us. He ordered me forthwith to go to the place where Theophilus was, and to hear the case against him. His accusers were urging assaults, and slaughterings, and numberless other things. We, however, who know the laws of our fathers, and reverence and honour the man, and having his own letters, too, to show that causes should not be carried out of their proper jurisdiction, but that matters concerning the province should be concluded in the province, did not accept the task of judging him, but declined with much firmness. He, on the contrary, adding to his previous conduct, summoned our archdeacon most peremptorily, as if the church were already widowed and without a bishop, and through him gained all the clergy to his side. So the churches became deserted, abandoned in each case by the clergy, who were preparing to take action against us and to accuse us. This done, he sent to summon us into court, though he had not cleared himself from the charges made against him, which was manifestly against every canon and every law. Now, we, knowing perfectly well that we were invited, not to a court of justice, or we would have gone a thousand times over, but to a foe and an enemy, as subsequent events, no less than what had already taken place, have proved, sent to him Demetrius, bishop of Pessinus, Eulysius, bishop of Apamea, and Lupicinus, bishop of Appiaria, and the priests Germanus and Severus, who made careful answer as befitting us, saying that we refused not judgment, but an outspoken enemy and a declared foe. For how is the man who, without receiving a charge against me, has so acted from the first, and held himself aloof from church communion and prayers, and incited accusers, who has gained the clergy to himself and emptied the cathedral, how is he fit to mount the judge’s throne which is not his in any sort of way? For it does not belong to Egypt to sit in judgment on Thrace, when, too, he of Egypt is under accusation and a declared enemy. Yet he showed no regard to us, being bent on carrying out his own purposes, though we showed that we were equal to defend ourself before a hundred or a thousand bishops, and to prove ourself innocent, as we are; but he would not abide it. Now, in our absence, while we were demanding a synod and seeking judgment, not avoiding a hearing but open enmity, he received accusers, absolved those excommunicated by me, and took information from those very men who had not cleared themselves of charges, and had it written down officially, all which acts are against the ordinary course of custom and canon law. Why need I go on? He left nothing untried until he had cast us out with a high hand both from the city and the Church, and this late in the evening, all the people pressing after us. I was taken and carried off by the curiosus[27] in the midst of the city, thrown into a ship, and I sailed through the night, all this because I had demanded a synod for my just hearing. Who could listen to all this with dry eyes, however stony his heart? But, as I said, we need not only to grieve for the evil accomplished, we must also remedy it, and therefore I appeal to your Charity to stand by us and sorrow with us, and to do everything you can that it may go no further. For their illegal proceedings did not stop here, but were aggravated by others besides their former ones. When our most religious emperor turned them out of the church which they had shamefully usurped, and many bishops present seeing their iniquity, and flying from their approach as from a fire consuming everything, retired into their own dioceses, we at last were recalled to the city, and to the church from which we had been impiously cast out: more than thirty bishops brought us back, our most religious emperor sending a notary for the purpose, but he (Theophilus) took immediate flight. For what reason? Because, when we came back, we entreated our most religious emperor to call a synod to avenge what had taken place. Conscious, therefore, of his deeds, and fearing to be convicted, the imperial letters having been sent to all parts, calling all together, he threw himself in the dead of the night into a little boat, and thus escaped, taking all his party with him. But we in the security of our conscience did not desist from entreating our most religious emperor as before, who with a kindness worthy of him sent for him again from Egypt, and for those with him, that they might give an account of what had taken place, and that he might not suppose the iniquitous attempt made by a party in our absence, in the face of all canon law, should be a sufficient excuse for himself. Yet he did not heed the imperial letters, but stayed at home, alleging the sedition of the people, and the untimely zeal of some who, forsooth, were opposing him, although before the imperial letters this same people had rained down accusations against him. However, we will not now enter into these things, but we have said this much, wishing to show that he was caught in the act of plotting. Moreover, after this, we did not rest, but demanded a judgment founded on enquiry and answer, for I said we were prepared to show ourself free from blame, and them most guilty. For certain Syrians who had been with him at that time were left here, and they had taken part in all his proceedings. These we approached in our readiness for judgment, and often repeated our demand, asking for the documents or heads of accusation, or to be told the nature of the grievance against us, or who the accusers are. We could obtain none of these things, and again we were thrust out of the see. How shall I narrate what then happened—an unequalled tragedy? What words will suffice? What ear will listen untroubled? Whilst we made the same offer, as I was saying, a great military force collected on the great Sabbath[28] itself, and we going into the church as the evening was drawing on, they tore by force all our clergy from our side, and surrounded the sanctuary with armed men. The women in the sacred building, who had undressed for baptism at that very time, fled away without their clothes in fear at this terrible invasion. Nor were they allowed to cover themselves as much as womanly decency would require, but many of them were wounded and thrust outside, the fonts were filled with blood, and the sacred waters polluted. Yet the evil did not stop even here. Proceeding to where the holy elements were reserved, the soldiers, amongst whom some were known to me as not Christians,[29] looked at everything within the veil (τὰ ἔνδον), and as it happens in a great tumult, the most sacred Blood of Christ was spilt upon those soldiers, and as in a barbarian captivity, everything was dared. The people fled into solitude, and the multitude passed their time outside the city, and the churches at so great a feast became empty, and more than forty bishops, our companions, with people and clergy, went into hiding for no cause. The sighs and groans and bitter tears called forth by these misfortunes filled marketplaces, and houses, and deserts, and every part of the city. Through the extreme wickedness of the deed, not the sufferers alone, but also those who were not sufferers in this way, sympathised with us: not the orthodox alone, but heretics, and Jews, and heathens. There was everywhere trouble, and agitation, and grief, as if the city had been taken by storm. And these things were attempted against the intention of our most religious emperor, at nightfall, by the machinations of bishops, who, in many instances, led the troops, and were not ashamed to have the attendance of civil officers instead of deacons. When day came the whole city was transported beyond the walls, under trees, and in valleys, finishing the feast like straying sheep.
You will be able to surmise the rest, for, as I said, it is impossible to repeat word for word what has taken place in each case. What is so grievous is that evils so great and crying have not yet come to an end, and that there is no hope of liberation. On the contrary, they increase day by day, and we have become a laughing-stock to many. Or rather, no man laughs, however unrighteous he may be, for all men are in tears, as I have said, at this recent iniquity, which is the climax of misfortune. What if we were to speak of the troubles of the other churches?—for the evil was not restricted to Constantinople, but spread to the East. For just as inflammation which begins in the head corrupts all the members, so now iniquities arising from the fountainhead, as it were, of this great city, have opened the door to a general agitation. Everywhere priests are against bishops, bishops against bishops, and people divided against themselves, whilst others are brooding sedition: badness is growing apace, and the whole world is overturned. When you learn all this, my most honoured and religious Lord, show forth a courage and zeal befitting you, that so great a flood of iniquity against the churches may be stemmed. For if this custom should obtain, and anyone who wishes it should be allowed free ingress into the dioceses of others at so great a distance, to thrust out those whom he chooses, to act on his own authority, as it pleases himself, understand that all things will be dissolved, that the whole world will be involved in irremediable war, every man fighting everyone else. Now, in order that so great a destruction should not overwhelm all things under the sun, I beseech you to enjoin by letter that what has been iniquitously perpetrated against us in our absence, and by one party, whilst we did not refuse judgment, may have no force, as indeed it has none by its very nature, and that those who are thus convicted may be subjected to the penalty of ecclesiastical laws. With regard to ourself, who have been neither condemned nor convicted, we ask you for the continued benefit of your letters and of your charity, and of everything else which we previously enjoyed. If they who have been so guilty would even now allege charges by reason of which they iniquitously cast us out, not telling us of the accusations nor making charges against us, the accusers not appearing, let us have an impartial judge, and we will submit ourselves to his sentence and prove ourself guiltless of what is brought against us, as indeed we are. Their recent deeds are against all propriety and every law and ecclesiastical canon. And why do I speak of ecclesiastical canon? Not even in secular tribunals have such things been ever attempted, nay, not amongst barbarians: neither Scythians nor Sauromites have ever given sentence for one party alone, in the absence of the accused, who was refusing, not judgment, but hatred, demanding a thousand judges, declaring himself innocent, ready to clear himself from charges in the face of the world, and showing that he is blameless in everything. Considering all this, and learning things more clearly from my lords and most religious brethren, the bishops, I beseech you show us that zeal which becomes your office. Thus you will rejoice not us alone, but all churches in general, and you will be rewarded by God, Who does all things for their peace. Farewell, and pray for me, most honoured and holy Lord.
Letter addressed to some Imprisoned Bishops and Priests, a.d. 404.
(Benedictine Edition, cxviii., t. iii., p. 689.)
You are dwelling in a prison and are in chains, and are shut up with unclean and filthy men: who could be more blessed than you on this account? Who wears on his head so noble a golden crown as he whose right hand is fettered for God? What dwelling-place so vast and splendid as a prison full of gloom, and dirt, and ill smells, and tribulation for the same cause? Rejoice, therefore, exult, you are crowned, be glad that these sad occurrences are the means of procuring you immense riches. This is the seed full of unspeakable promise; this is the combat which is secure of victory and reward; this is the voyage productive of a rich return. With these things in your minds, my most honoured and religious lords, rejoice and be of good cheer, cease not to give praise to God in all circumstances. You are inflicting severe blows on the devil, and laying up to yourselves a great reward in heaven. For the sufferings of this time are not worthy to be compared to the glory to come which shall be revealed in you. Pray write to me often. I desire most earnestly to receive letters from men who are in chains for God’s sake, telling me of your sufferings, and even in a strange land I shall be greatly consoled by their perusal.
To the Priests and Monks Theodotus, Nicholas, and Cherea. Written from his Exile at Kucusus, a.d. 405.
(Benedictine Edition, cxlvi., t. iii., p. 685.)
You allege the incursion of the Isaurians as the cause of your absence, but I look upon you as present and myself as with you, and see no obstacle in this against your arrival. For such are the wings of charity that they fly swiftly and with great alacrity in every direction, in spite of a thousand impediments. But if I am deprived of your bodily presence, cease not from prayer, and our merciful God will grant it us. Since I too, bearing you constantly in my mind, long for a sight of you in the flesh, and I know that I shall have this too, as you are earnestly beseeching Him Who can do all things to break up the winter and to establish peace everywhere. Now, to gladden you with news of myself, I am enjoying much quiet and leisure. And although many things disturb my health, as, for instance, the absence of physicians and the want of necessaries (for there are no shops here and no drugs), a bad climate (for the summer tries me no less than the winter, by its excessive heat as opposed to the cold), a siege severe and constant, with perpetual fears of incursions from the Isaurians,—in spite, I say, of all this and much more which is undermining my strength whilst recovering from that great danger and severe illness, I am fairly well. Do not fail to write to me often, and to tell me how you yourselves are. For I view your affection as a great consolation and encouragement, as a treasure producing a multitude of good things. And whenever I think about your own state, your steadfast heart, your strong and enduring love, I cannot put it out of my mind. I take refuge in the thought as in a spacious and calm harbour away from the surging waves of tribulation.
To some Priests and Monks in Phœnicia, who were Instructing Heathens.
(From Kucusus, A.D. 405. cxxiii., t. iii., p. 663.)
Pilots, when they see the ocean stirred up from its depths, and a heavy storm and disturbance, not only do not desert the vessel, but show greater industry and more willingness by watching themselves and rousing the others. And physicians, too, when they see that the fever is active and very high, not only do not leave the sick man to himself, but then especially do all they can, and show a greater diligence and readiness both through others and through themselves so as to overcome the disease. Why do I say this? That no one of you through the disturbance which has taken place should desire to leave Phœnicia and to come here for quiet. The more the trials, the angrier the waves, the heavier the trouble, the greater the reason for your staying in readiness, and watchfulness, and diligence, showing forth more eagerness, so that your fine house may not fall, nor your labour be in vain, nor the fruits of your agriculture disappear. For God is able to quell the disturbance and to reward your patience. When things run smoothly our reward is not so great as it is for you now when there is much difficulty, great agitation, and when many are scandalised. Considering, therefore, the work done, and the labour surmounted, and the good works which you have accomplished, and that by the grace of God you have conquered impiety to a certain extent, that things in Phœnicia had come to improve, that your reward and crown are now greater, that God will remove obstacles before long and give you many compensations for your patience, stand fast and endure. Even now you should not want for anything, but it was my command that you should have the same plenty and abundance, whether in clothes, or shoes, or food, as the brethren. If I, who am in so much tribulation and affliction in a solitude of Kucusus, take your good deeds so much to heart, how much should you, who are enjoying great plenty, do your part, as far as necessity allows you. I repeat, then, let no one frighten you, for things gave good promise, and this you may ascertain from the answers sent by his Reverence the priest Constantine. If you remain, be there a thousand obstacles, you will overcome them all. There is nothing equal to patience and endurance; it is like a rock. In truth, those disturbances and plottings against Churches are like waves beating against a rock, dissolving in their own foam. Consider what the blessed Apostles suffered, both from their own people and from strangers; how during all their time of preaching they passed through temptations, and dangers, and plottings, and were consumed by prisons, and chains, and stripes, and hunger, and nakedness. Still, dwelling in those very prisons, they did not relinquish the stewardship entrusted to them. Blessed Paul, in his prison, scourged, covered with blood, fastened to the wood, in the midst of all this suffering, gave instruction, baptised his jailor, and left nothing unturned. Pondering on all this, according to my counsel, stand bravely and without flinching, with your hope on God and on His help, which is before everything, and be careful to let me have a detailed answer. On this account I have sent the priest John, that he may quiet your minds, and not suffer you to be disturbed by anyone. I have done my part, encouraging you by words, exhorting you by advice, and offering you plenty of necessaries, so that you may want for nothing.
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To Studius, the Prefect of the City, on the Death of his Brother.
(From Kucusus, A.D. 404. Benedictine Edition, cxcvii., t. iii., p. 710.)
I know that you have understanding and can reason, and that before my letter reaches you you will have heard in meekness of your happy brother’s departure, for I would not call it death. Now, since we, too, must do our part, I invite you, my most honoured Lord, to show yourself as you are at this time; not that you should not grieve, for this is impossible, being a man clothed in flesh and looking in vain for such a brother, but that you should restrain your sorrow. You know the perishableness of human things, how worldly business is like flowing rivers, and how we should call blessed only those who depart this life with good hope. They go not to death, but from combat to rewards, from wrestlings to crowns, from a storm-tossed sea to a calm harbour. Pondering on these things, be consoled, since my own grief is not small, and we have a sovereign consolation in it—his goodness, which, I think, must offer you true solace. If the departed had been bad and full of evil, we ought to weep and mourn for him; but being what he was, after a life of mildness and goodness, as all the city knew it to be, fearing what was just, showing a fitting courage, independence, and fortitude, despising present things, a stranger to worldly cares, we should rejoice with him and with you that you have sent before you this brother, who may place the treasure which was his on his departure in a sure and safe place. Do not, then, my most honoured Lord, have any thoughts unworthy of yourself, or be broken by grief, but show now what you are, and let me see for my comfort that even my letter has done something for you. So, at our great distance from each other, I shall be proud to have overcome much of your sadness by a mere letter.
To Malchus on the Death of his Daughter.
(Μαλχῳ, lxxi., t. iii., p. 632.)
Do not be sad; do not put down the beautiful death of your happy daughter to your sins. She has reached the waveless shore and come to everlasting life. Removed from the troubled waters of this present life, she stands upon the rock, and whatever good things she has gathered together, those she holds as a most secure treasure. You should rejoice and exult and be glad that, like an intelligent gardener gathering the ripe fruit, you have offered her soul to the common Lord of all. Applying the remedy of such thoughts as these to yourself and to my most honoured lady, her mother, increase the reward reserved to you under these circumstances, so that not only on account of her excellent early training, but also for humbly and thankfully bearing her happy departure hence, you may receive a great crown from our merciful God.
To Olympias, A.D. 404.
(On the Virginal Life, ii., t. iii., p. 542.)
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Virginity is so great a thing, and requires so much labour, that when Christ had come down from heaven in order to make men angels, and to sow the heavenly life on earth, He did not venture even then to enjoin it or to make a law of it, but He did teach death to self, than which there is nothing harder. He taught men to crucify themselves, always to do good to their enemies, yet He did not make a law of virginity. He left it to the free-will of His hearers, saying, Let him who can, take it. It is a weighty undertaking: it has arduous wrestlings with the sweat of combat, and its path is rugged and precipitous. This is plainly shown by those in the Old Law, who were full of good deeds. For Moses, that great man who summed up the prophets in his person, the intimate friend of God, who enjoyed so much favour with Him as to be able to snatch six hundred thousand from the chastisement of a divine stroke, and was so great as to command the sea, who parted the ocean, drew water from the rock, and transformed the atmosphere, who changed the Nile’s waters into blood, who opposed Pharaoh with an army of frogs and locusts, and changed the whole face of creation, and worked a thousand other wonders, and many virtuous deeds,—for he was remarkable in every way,—yet he could not even look at these wrestlings, but needed marriage and the society of his wife, with its security. He dared not launch himself on the ocean of virginity fearing its waves. Then there was the patriarch who immolated his son and was strong enough to tread upon the most tyrannical of nature’s feelings. He had courage to sacrifice his son, that son being Isaac, in the bloom of his age, in the very flower of his youth, his own and only-begotten son, vouchsafed to him contrary to all hope, and full of righteousness, his one stay in his old age. He it was who led this son forth to the mountain for that consummation, and prepared the altar and laid the wood upon it, who placed the victim in readiness, and drew the sword and held it to his son’s neck. For he who was of adamant, or rather harder than adamant, both held him for slaughter and drew the knife. He who was thus firm by nature increased his natural fortitude by the mortification of his will, and gave proof of angelical calmness in his deeds. Yet the man who could encounter so great a battle, and go beyond nature itself, dared not face the combats of virginity. He also dreaded its wrestlings, and took to himself the comfort of marriage.
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The Blessedness of Suffering.
(To Olympias, A.D. 404 or 405. Ὀλυμπίαδι, xvii., t. iii., p. 604.)
Nothing strange or out of the way is happening to you, but it is extremely fitting and proper that the strength of your spirit should be increased by constant temptations, and your fervour and power in combat become greater, and that you should reap therefrom much sweetness. It is the nature of tribulation, when it encounters a brave and ardent soul, to bring about these results. And as the fire refines gold by its action, so does tribulation purify and refine golden souls. Therefore Paul says, Tribulation worketh patience and patience probation. Hence, I too am in joy and gladness, and in this vast solitude am consoled by this fortitude of yours. Therefore, even if thousands of wolves hem you in and endless evil plottings, I have no fear; but it is my prayer that present temptation may pass away and that you may not encounter others, thus fulfilling the divine law, which bids us pray not to fall into temptation. And if, perchance, it should happen again, I have confidence in your soul of gold, and in the great riches which you would gain for yourself. With what threat will they who act against their own interests be able to frighten you? By loss of money? But this, I know well, is like smoke in your eyes, and is accounted more worthless than mud by the way. Is it by exile from home and country? But you are able to live in great and populous cities as well as in deserts, and to pass your time in peace and quiet, and to put away worldly visions. Or do they threaten you with death? This, too, has been always in your thoughts, and if they should drag you to execution they will find a dead body in their hands. Why need I say more? No one will be able to do anything to you which you have not already borne with much patience. You, who have ever walked on a steep and thorny path, have accustomed yourself to all these things; you, who have shown consummate skill under training, now appear more radiant in the combat: not only are you not troubled by what has taken place, but you are soaring above the earth and rejoicing. You are glad to have a part now in those combats for which you had prepared yourself, and this in your woman’s body, which is weaker than a spider’s web. Whilst men are raging and gnashing their teeth, you are treading their madness under foot in much cheerfulness, and you would be ready to suffer many more things than they could prepare against you. Blessed and thrice-blessed are you by reason of the crowns to come, or rather by those very wrestlings. For these struggles, even before the reward, and in the oppression of the fight, have their present rewards, and compensations, and sweetness; they have contentedness, and fortitude, and steadfastness, and patience in making you invincible, unconquerable, far above all; they so exercise you that you can suffer no evil from anyone, and make you stand upon the rock in spite of angry waves, and bear a furious ocean with great peacefulness. These are the rewards of tribulation, even before the kingdom of heaven. I know that, already, you account yourself divested of the body, on the wings of sweetness, but that if called upon you would put it off more easily than others do the clothes which they wear. Rejoice, then, and be glad both over yourself and over those who die the blessed death, who die not in their bed, not in their houses, but in prisons, and chains, and torments. Grieve only for the doers of these things, and weep for them: this is worthy of your virtue. Since you wish to hear about my bodily health, I have so far got rid of the illness which troubled me and am better now, if only winter when it comes does not affect my weakness of stomach. We are also in perfect security from Isaurian invasions.
To Olympias.
(From Arabissus, A.D. 406. Ὀλυμπίαδι, xv., t. iii., p. 601.)
Would you, who have given proof of so much mortification from your youth upwards, and have trodden human pride under foot, expect to live a quiet life without combat? How should this be? For if men who are fighting other men receive a thousand wounds in combats and wars, you who have been armed against principalities, and powers, and the lords of darkness in this world, against spiritual forces of wickedness, who have fought thus valiantly, and set up victorious trophies, and thus vexed the devil,—how should you hope to lead a peaceful and untroubled life? Therefore you should not be disquieted because battles, and agitation, and fears assail you on every side. You should wonder, on the contrary, if none of these things came to pass. Labour and peril are the lot of goodness. You knew this well enough before my letter, and do not need to learn it from others. I write this, then, since I am not instructing one who is ignorant. For we know that neither banishment from our country nor the loss of money, though insupportable to most men—neither contempt nor any other suffering of the kind, will be able to disturb you. For if the companions of those who have suffered these things have become enviable, how much more those who are actually suffering them? Therefore, on both accounts, Paul proclaims believers amongst the Hebrews, saying: Call to mind the former days, wherein, being illuminated, you endured a great fight of afflictions, and on the one hand, indeed, by reproaches and tribulations, were made a gazing-stock, and on the other became companions of them that were used in such sort. Therefore, there is no need for me to write a long letter. No man, indeed, goes to offer assistance to a conqueror who holds a splendid trophy of victory in his hands, but only praise. I, too, know how much interior spirit you have shown in what has befallen you. I account you blessed, and admire you for your patience in the present, as well as for the rewards which it will bring to you. I am well aware, however, that you wish to hear how I am getting on, for I have been silent for a very long time. I have thrown off the violence of my illness, but still feel its effects. I have had excellent physicians, yet the want of necessaries destroys the good of my cure. For not only are there no remedies here, and no one of the things required for a suffering body, but both famine and pestilence are imminent.
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To Pœanius. ‘Glory be to God in all things.’
(A.D. 404. Παιανιῳ, cxciii., tom. iii., p. 708.)
You greatly refreshed me and made me rejoice, when, in telling me of your misfortunes, you added the word, which we should always say in everything befalling us: ‘Glory be to God in all things’. This is a stroke which hits the devil in the right place; this is great security and happiness in every danger to the man who utters it. In giving voice to it, dark despondency vanishes. Cease not, then, from saying it and from teaching it to others. Thus a destructive storm, even should it increase in fury, will be changed into peace; thus the storm-tossed will reap a greater reward, whilst they are also removed from evils. This it was which crowned Job; this word overthrew the devil, and made him retire in confusion; this removes all anxiety. Continue, therefore, to use it on all occasions. Let no one be in trouble about this place. For if Kucusus be indeed a solitude, I enjoy much quiet there, and I have been able to cure a large part of the no small infirmity contracted through weakness on my journey, by sitting constantly in the house.
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