Month of March

^A II. Since, therefore, the memory of the just is to be celebrated with praises, do not, I pray, impute to me rashness for praising one whose life I have not yet narrated. And in truth, it would be appropriate to set it first; but since we have a clearly expounded account of this blessed man—by some wise and holy men who labored at it—from his very birth, his conversion, and his inclination toward the worship of God, and likewise his exercise and most pure conversation in the monastic life, indeed also his lack of imperfections, his manifestation of the true faith, and his constancy in enduring hardships, by which his life is adorned more than with gold, pearls, and precious stones, I could not in the least be induced to add anything to these. But I thought it right to collect what had been scattered, from those very narrations into one structure, as stone-cutters are accustomed to do; knowing that he who undertakes to do the impossible perverts every method of acting in an unseemly way. Using therefore a concise narrative, I have put together a rough, preliminary summary of his virtuous deeds.

CAPUT I. Nativity, marriage, and life in the world

^B III. This blessed man, most dear Fathers and brethren, having received his name from the seal of the Christian religion, was the son of noble parents, notable for their dignities, who, during the time of Constantine Copronymus, lived their lives according to the rules of the true faith, though secretly. And indeed, from such a beginning of his birth, this star, which was to have a name congruous to the mystery of God manifested in the flesh, ought to have shone forth; for this most pure pearl would not be set before us today if his parents had openly turned away from piety in that darkness of perverse opinions. Since, however, he was an only child to them, he was instructed from childhood in the divine Letters and, being initiated into the knowledge of the entire Scripture, he did not lack even secular wisdom. Whatever was most beautiful in it he collected and stored within the treasury of his mind; but what was fabulous he ordered to be far removed, and rejected it as was fitting. When the blessed one was still very young and had not yet entered the years of puberty, his parents emigrated from here to the Lord, and he himself remained alone amidst abundant wealth—perhaps with the celestial Providence disposing it so, that their love might not become an obstacle to him as he was about to travel the straight path to God.

^C IV. After the sacrilegious Constantine had shamefully breathed out his foul spirit, Leo, called by his maternal surname Chazar, received the empire. During the time of his reign, there was a certain patrician

^A of the same name as him, quite barbarian and beastly in his manner, and of one mind with and a supporter of the nesting of heresy; who, on account of such impiety, was a daily table-companion and intimate friend to the emperor. And so, having learned of the blessed one's wealth, by means of an imperial decree he used his cooperation and tied his own daughter to Theophanes; which Theophanes, perhaps even by force and with difficulty, yielding on account of the fear of the ruler, prepared the necessities for the bridal chamber. When, therefore, the auspicious events were completed, and evening had fallen, they brought the pious young man and the glorious maiden, alone, into a delightful small room, as it might be convenient for them for the manner of pleasure. And when silence had occurred, and all had fallen asleep, and the deep night had spread itself out, the blessed one turned and said these things to the girl:

V. On the Shortness of the Present Life.

VI. The Response of the Wife.

^A fruit. Just so, the noble woman, strengthened by the excellent exhortation of her spouse, readily agreed, and answering, she said: "I am not uninstructed, most sweet husband, in the divine commands; for the Savior Himself clearly cries out in the Gospels: 'Whoever does not leave father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brothers, and sisters, and houses, and fields, and take up his cross, and follow Me, is not worthy of Me' (Luc. xiv, 26). Let us, therefore, if you wish, present ourselves pure and unspotted to the heavenly Bridegroom, Christ, keeping our outer man also immaculate. For what profit will come to us if, as you say, we were to enjoy for a short time an embrace? Who shall guarantee that we will not, in that short time, beget offspring that will become an impediment to us? If it were male, a portion of our substance and affection would have to be cut off; if female, then the evil is twofold, for we would need to wait for the age suitable for marriage and bestow other care upon her. And the end of life, as you said before, is uncertain, and the snares of this life are innumerable. So, if we live in secret chastity, I am certain that God will bring our desire to the desired end."

^{B C} VII. The most blessed youth was astonished at the maiden’s most noble resolve, and answering graciously, he said: "The Lord will show us what is profitable." Having spent the whole night in prayer, calling upon God to be the provider and guardian for their interest in this matter, it happened that towards dawn both fell asleep and saw one and the same dream. For they saw someone shining with extraordinary beauty, who with a gentle voice said to them: "The Lord God, having accepted your resolve, has sent me to seal you, that you may present yourselves to Him whole and blameless." And having sealed them over their entire body, he vanished from the sight of the beholders. When they awoke and recounted the vision to each other word for word, giving glory to God, who is so easily found by those seeking Him, from then on they lived in appearance as spouses, but in reality as brother and sister. O wonderful deed! "The Lord knows who are His" (Num. xvi, 5), and since they sought only God, He was immediately found an ally and helper for their desire. What is this, inferior to that miracle which we admire concerning the three youths in the furnace (Dan. iii, 50)? There, indeed, the angel, changing the burning breeze of the fire into a wind blowing as dew, saved the youths unharmed; here, similarly, the angel, transforming the swift and fiery ardor of pleasure into the dew of temperance, kept the young couple unharmed, and taught fire to be joined with straw without damage.

^D VIII. Now, since we have abundantly declared the conversation of the saint from his birth up to his marriage, come, you beloved of Christ, and from his struggles let us finally present some specimen to your hearing

^A with these things having been arranged in this way by divine will, and while bit by bit they were scattering their wealth upon the poor with hidden intent, or rather, while they were laying it up for themselves through their hands, they were unable to remain hidden to the end from the father of the maiden, who was a harsh man, and cruel, and inhuman, and exceedingly unmerciful. For the miserable man, having learned of this most excellent trade of the young couple—and regarding what he had learned as a failure rather than as piety—entered the palace and presented himself to the emperor, asserting the following: "O wretched me, Emperor, for the inactivity of my son-in-law! For after dissipating his own wealth in the worst of ways, he did not even spare the possessions of my daughter; for he has already made away with the greatest part of them, and my pitiable daughter is not even considered worthy of offspring; and I think it is because he is in every way a wretched and inactive man. But if your Majesty commands," he says, "that my old age might find a little relief and respite from such inactivity, you will command that he be sent away to public duties elsewhere, so that my little daughter might not at last be counted among the utterly destitute. For from where could he have been taught this desperate way of trading? I do not know. ^B Like some bronze statue, he remains unmoved before the choice of pleasant things, and what is more grievous, as often happens to those who are deranged in mind, whatever he is asked for, he most easily provides from what he has, and is robbed daily of his own means, especially by those who falsely pretend to be in poverty. And he will not even hold on to his potsherds, unless by quickly being seized by poverty himself, he becomes capable of maintaining his own affairs."

IX. ^C And so, the blessed one having been quickly summoned by the emperor, he is sent by him to the region of Cyzicus for the administration of certain public affairs; for he was indeed of royal status, not of those in the highest roles, but a minister of the richly adorned royal horses, whom it is customary for the order to call *stratores*. When this command had been given to the blessed one, and joy not of a common sort had suffused him, as if another opportunity for his departure from the world had been arranged by God, he made ready with speed the necessities for the journey; and having feigned a pretext of illness, he sent his servants on ahead by road, while he himself, boarding a swift boat, reached the mouth of the great river. ^D

^A and, approaching the region which is there, he continued his journey with a calm voyage, observing the craggy shores of the mountain which is in Sigriane. By a certain divine providence, he came upon a deep, precipitous grove, wooded and full of caves; departing from the ship at that place, he went up alone, compelled by the weariness of the journey, having instructed the others to remain quietly in the boat.

X. Having carefully reconnoitered the place ^B, and rejoicing that he had found it suitable and useful for spiritual exercises, he withdrew to a secluded spot to pray, beseeching God that He might reveal to him what was expedient. Being exhausted from the genuflection which he had maintained for many hours, when he had sat down for a little while, he was as if in an ecstasy, and he saw with waking eyes the man who had appeared to him in the chamber, a most radiant man; he, with a finger of his extended hand ^C pointing out the place, said to him: "Your father-in-law, and the emperor of the same mind as him, will depart from this life in a few days; then, having freely distributed your goods to the poor, with no one to oppose you, you shall come here and establish a life pleasing to God." The blessed man, therefore, understanding from this apparition the things that contributed to his benefit, and having reached the parts of Cyzicus ^D, and having finished the task enjoined upon him as quickly as possible, he held a straight course for Constantinople. And having rendered to the emperor a satisfactory account of the matters he had been asked about, and having been honored by the emperor with a higher rank (namely, to the list of the spatharioi), he lived there for the rest of the time, awaiting the realization of the vision, which also came to pass.

Chapter II. The monastic life of Theophanes and his struggles for the veneration of the holy icons

XI. For not much time passed before both of them, having brought their life to a close—having already, by that time, distributed their possessions to the poor without fear, and having granted freedom to their domestic servants—clothed themselves in rags and bade each other farewell; the blessed man confirmed the pious woman with salutary admonitions, that she should keep the divine commandments, exercise spiritual charity toward her neighbor, devote herself to sincere and undisturbed prayer with all her might, and maintain an irreproachable life and supreme humility; and as he departed, he said to her: "In saving others, save your own soul." Thus they were separated from one another in their way of life. But all they who inhabit the region of the Bithynians know what kind of life that most pious woman led, how she sold herself voluntarily, and took up a life of servitude [index: entries preserved]

Having been recognized by some, she fled. But as for her struggles in Prinkipo and Calonymus, who could even record them in writing, even if he were deemed worthy of grace and divine powers? Part of her achievements are recorded for the benefit of those who chance upon it, in the writing composed concerning her and her blessed husband by the most holy Patriarch Methodius. ^B

XII. But what of the truly blessed Theophanes? He boarded a ship, reached the shores of Sigriane, and, having disembarked, proceeded on foot to that wooded precipice. There, having subdued his body for many years and having been invested with the monastic habit and rule by Christopher, that brilliant star of his age and region, he himself also became famous thenceforth; for a city set upon a hill cannot be hid. ^C And as those who desired the angelic life flowed to him day after day under his instruction, he converted that wilderness into a monastery, which even to this day, blooming with divine virtues, is shown and shall be shown. Contending in it spiritually, he appeared as a genuine initiate of the Trinity and became a spectator of the greatest visions. A cheap mat sufficed him for a bed, a hair-shirt for a covering, and a stone for his pillow. He did not boast of soft raiment for his attire, nor did any fuller toil over his garments, nor did any horse or mule serve his needs, nor did the artifices of cooks provide him with necessities, nor did fragrant wine lubricate his throat; rather, his food and drink were the coarsest bread and a little water. ^D

XIII. When the emperor had ended his life, and Irene, with her son Constantine, was piously governing the kingdom, following the death of Paul, who had become a monk after having been patriarch, Tarasius, that most holy luminary of orthodoxy, was proposed as High Priest of Constantinople by the empress, the entire senate, and all those distinguished for the accuracy of their orthodox doctrines, and an ecumenical synod was convened.

^A confirming the holy synods that had preceded it, and anathematizing Constantine and Nicetas, the heresiarchs and fraudulent patriarchs, enrolling the most holy patriarch Germanus in the diptychs, and dissolving the vain error of the Iconoclasts as if it were a spider's web. Fathers and teachers from every part of the earth were gathered together, as well as the vicars of the apostolic sees and the leaders of the monks; I mean Plato, that most brightly shining star from those of Saccudion, Nicetas and Nicephorus, the ever-memorable Fathers from the monastery of Medicius, and the aforementioned Christophorus from the Small Field. Then, indeed then, like a transparent star, at the invitation of this spiritual festival, the blessed Theophanes also arrived at the synod, under compulsion, it is true, yet he came; for he was one who always dearly longed for and pursued stillness, and held the clamor of the multitude in aversion. ^B XIV. All of them, then, were led, being served by horses, mules, slaves, and carriages; but the ^{C D}

^A holy Father, like a true father, was with his hair-shirt and his pastoral staff. When the venerable synod had taken its seat, although the blessed one was seen in a humble guise, he shone with piety above all others, and they did not disregard him, but invited him to deliver a public discourse on the dogma; for they knew well that he was a worthy laborer of the Spirit. He, having spoken at length in few words, and by natural, scriptural, and dogmatic proofs having refuted and silenced the arrogant and blasphemous Iconoclasts, restored to the Church her pristine beauty. O miracle! What can be said that is more magnificent than this? For the Holy Spirit breathes where He wills, and as much as He wills. These things having been thus accomplished, and the Fathers having returned to their own places, the blessed one repaired again to the heaven-mimicking monastery which he had newly built. For ^B just as in heaven the sun shines with the stars, illuminating the whole universe with the light of its radiance, in the same way the blessed one, on earth, together with the monks and fellow-ascetics chosen by the Spirit for him, illuminating the inhabited world, brightened it with the rays of his angelic way of life.

XV. Therefore, the ray of orthodoxy shone forth in the borders. But after many years had passed, ^C there arose, by the permission of God, Leo, of the same name as the former, who, immediately upon his proclamation as emperor, having cast down the holy icons, extinguished the beauty of the Church, and like some wild boar, ravaged the assembly of the orthodox, and it was appropriate for them to say: "O God, the nations have come into your inheritance," and what follows; for he subjected the Fathers, the champions and defenders of the orthodox faith, to many tortures and afflictions, and destroyed them miserably; among whom was also Theodore, the most holy abbot of Studiou, who, having refuted his foolish opinion, was, after being tormented for a time, sent into exile. Having acted with a deceitful mind, he sent fawning letters to the blessed Theophanes, asking him to come to him and agree with his wickedness. But the blessed one replied in these written terms:

XVI. Know, O emperor, the one who granted you the empire, through whom kings reign and ^D tyrants rule the earth: know, I say, how God, being uncircumscribed, yet deigned to be circumscribed by assuming our nature, having become like us in all things except that he had no sin; how he raised the dead, and gave sight to the blind, and cleansed lepers, and the rest of his miracles in order; how he willingly endured the passion by the Jewish madness, and having risen on the third day, ascended into the heavens, of [the] path towards the Father

s sitting at his right hand. Since the book of the Gospels teaches us this, we embrace it, and thereby render honor to Christ; and if, in embracing it, we are not subject to accusation, what accusation is there against us for not failing to honor and kiss the iconic representation of that same explanation, through which those who are instructed from among the barbarians are easily taught the truth? How many of those who do not know letters, seeing the miracles before their very eyes as if they were present, glorify the Christ who suffered for our sake, whose salvation you have begrudged? What council has ever pronounced this shameful doctrine? Did not Christ himself send his own image, made without hands, to Abgar? Did not the Apostle Luke, having documented it, hand down to us the image of the form of the Theotokos? ^B And what will you say about the teachings handed down by the Fathers? For indeed, Basil, the initiate of ineffable mysteries, says: "The honor paid to the image passes to the prototype." And the golden-mouthed John also says: "I have also loved the painting cast in wax." Moreover, Cyril, the lyre of the Spirit, also says this: "I have often seen an image of the passion on a painting, and I have not passed by the sight without tears," and so on. If, therefore, the preceding six holy councils did not condemn the veneration of the holy images relative to their prototypes, are you become wiser than they? It is your duty, emperor, to war against the enemy; let the doctrine of the Church be the concern of the Fathers.

XVII. Having sent these things in writing to the emperor, when the blessed man had thus replied, the tyrant, unable to bear such constancy of the man, ^C and refuting the trifles of Cuspinianus in the following chapter.

[Regarding the notes: [alt-version omitted] covering the repetitious Greek/Latin text blocks at the bottom of the page.]

^A The tyrant, bearing this, dispatched one of his officials, by whom he burned the monastery to the ground, scattered the monks after scourging them, and, having seized the blessed man, he brought him in chains to Byzantium. And the tyrant having ordered him to be shut up in a dark prison, he spent very many days there, in an expectation such as this: that the man’s noble character, being thus softened, would become easy to bring to submission. Therefore, on the day before, the emperor had brought the aforementioned Theodore, the holy abbot of Studiou, and thinking that he could strike terror into him for many hours with threats and proposed torments, he was instead refuted by the holy man—as if the tyrant did not know God, who looks into the heart; and so, ashamed, he pronounced the sentence of exile against him.

^B XVIII. On the following day, the emperor ordered that the blessed Theophanes also be brought before him. But the emperor, having been warned by his fellow-conspirators who said that his imperial majesty ought not to be contradicted and rebuked by any of those insignificant men, and especially since this one was more stubborn than all those who had been brought before him previously, lest the unconquerable majesty be insulted by his argumentative stubbornness and severity; for this reason, restraining his impulse, he sent one of his officials to the holy man, having ordered him to flay his chest and back with three hundred lashes of the bullwhip, and to leave him again in the prison. On the following day, the same punishment was again inflicted on the blessed man, but it did not weaken his firm hope in God. ^C The miserable man, now despairing of such an undertaking, sent forth a decree against the blessed man, to send him into exile on the island of Samothrace, which is situated in the parts of the sea belonging to Maroneia, a place desolate and grievous to all who wish to approach it. In it, the blessed man, pressed by hunger, thirst, and imprisonment, and having lived for some years, passed on from this life, having transferred to a better and more divine glory, having kept his clay-born body and his soul unharmed. By whose blessed prayers, O beloved listeners, may we be strengthened, sending up glory and thanksgiving to Christ our most kind God ^D together with the Father who is without beginning, and the life-giving Spirit, now and always, and unto all the infinite and endless ages of ages. Amen.

[Regarding the final explanatory notes at the bottom of the columns: [index: entries preserved]]

THE MARTYRDOM OF THE HOLY AND GLORIOUS MARTYR LONGINUS THE CENTURION

^A I. Since it seemed good to the Word of God, on account of the fall from good things brought upon us by disobedience, to become as we are, and for the sake of His compassion toward us, He was condemned to a voluntary cross and death; and while the choir of the disciples, through fear, had forgotten their friendship with Christ, and the Jews who breathed slaughter against Him had already condemned Him to death, Longinus was one of those from the synagogue of the Jews, and he had been appointed centurion over a certain division of soldiers. Now when the wicked sentence had been given over to execution, and Christ Himself had been nailed to the wood, curing the taste derived from the wood, this wonderful Longinus happened to have been entrusted with the guard of the cross along with the soldiers under him. But being led to the truth by the signs and wonders that took place around the cross, and casting off all fear from himself, ^B he confessed Christ, who is also God, with a free tongue in the midst of the synagogue of the Jews, saying, "Truly, this is the Son of God." II. And when the life-giving body of Christ was also given to the tomb, in order that He might recall us from the tombs of sin and lead us back to our ancient blessedness, Pilate again ordered Longinus to guard the sepulcher of Life with a guard of soldiers. And he indeed did that which was commanded, although he was not of the same mind as Pilate concerning Christ, as we have learned from the end. But when the great mystery of the resurrection had been accomplished, and the soldiers reported the wonders, which were greater than human reason could grasp, to the chief priests and elders of the Jewish cabal, they, deeming the matter a disgrace and wanting to extinguish the miracle, ^C persuaded the soldiers with money to slander the resurrection of the Lord. And they themselves went to Pilate and suggested that the resurrection was false. But not so Longinus; rather, he was a clear refuter of the lie and a true witness of the truth, as one who did not sub-

-^Amit to slander Christ as having been stolen. Instead, being free in both tongue and mind, he proclaimed Him to be the true God and affirmed that He had risen from the dead. Hence, Pilate himself and the rulers of the Jewish synagogue transferred to Longinus the envy they had previously held against Christ, as well as the madness they had harbored in their hearts against Him, being so fiercely angry with him that they considered any punishment Longinus might suffer to be insufficient. From this, the matter came to the ears of Longinus, and the extent of their wrath was made clear to him; because of this, preferring to be cast out with Christ rather than to dwell in the tabernacles of the Jews, he immediately stripped off his mantle of office, his belt, and his military service as well. Taking with him two soldiers who shared his same zeal for Christ and the truth, he avoided the crowded haunts and betook himself to God alone and his own solitude.

III. On the life of Saint Longinus

III. Not much time had passed, and having left Jerusalem, he arrived in Cappadocia, becoming both a herald and an apostle of the paradoxical and wonderful works of Christ, along with the two soldiers. Now, since none of this escaped the notice of the Jews—as fame carried Longinus to everyone, and, as if winged, swiftly sped through the whole world—they gathered together and persuaded Pilate to speak ill of Longinus and to inform the ^CCaesar that he held opinions alien to the Roman empire, and that, having neglected his weapons, he was proclaiming a certain Christ as King to the nations, and from that source was drawing everyone to himself and attracting them to faith in Him. The proof of what they said, they claimed, was that he had filled the whole of Cappadocia with such doctrine. They sent money along with these letters, wishing to creep into the ears of Caesar so as to easily purchase the death of Longinus. This indeed proceeded, as it seemed, for the Jews; and from Rome, letters were immediately sent to Judea to Pilate, which condemned Longinus to death. ^DPilate, therefore, having received the letters, immediately handed them over to the Jews, and he eagerly sent them out for the slaughter of the blessed man. They, having traversed the whole region between with the greatest speed, arrived in the Cappadocian region; and having heard that Longinus was living a quiet life in one of his ancestral farms, they came immediately to the field, not knowing that he was the person for whom they had endured such great labors and completed the journey. Whence they even asked him himself who Longinus was and in what estate he lived; for their plan was to attack Longinus secretly, fearing that he might secure his safety through flight. They were ignorant, however, that he was more eager to be captured than they were to capture him. For he was imitating the voluntary death of Him whom, having seen upon the cross, he had confessed as God; and just as Christ thirsted for the slaughter for our sake, so did Longinus thirst for the slaughter for the sake of Christ.

^A IV. When, therefore, the Holy Spirit had made everything known to him at that hour, he turned gently to them and with a mild and soft voice says: “Follow me, and I myself will show you the one you are seeking.” Then, therefore, as the blessed man rejoiced within himself, anticipating the joy to come and embracing the death of martyrdom before the martyrdom itself, he was saying these things to himself: “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach good things! Now I shall see the heavens opened. Now I shall behold the glory of the Father. Now, just like the first martyr Stephen, I too shall say: ‘Lord Jesus Christ, receive my spirit,’ whom I heard with a most clear voice calling death unto himself. Now I shall ascend to the Jerusalem on high, the fatherland of the angels and the metropolis of the whole choir of the saints, with the applause of victory, with songs, and with glorious trophies. Now I cast off the tunic fashioned from clay and put aside the pitiable bonds of the flesh. Now I am delivered from destruction and corruption, and I joyfully put on incorruption. I depart from a life that is frail and fleeting, and from a tempests whose waves are great and whose shipwrecks are grave, and I arrive at the true and only harbor, in which life is removed from all sorrow and is eternal. Rejoice, O soul, you who are going to your Maker. Show a joyful face, as the time demands it. Receive kindly, O Longinus, those who procure for you so many good things. Let us entertain them with a sumptuous and magnificent banquet, for they are inviting us to the royal supper.”

^C V. When Longinus had spoken these things to himself, he immediately leads those who had come to him into his own house and, having received them with brilliant hospitality, he begins after supper to ask why they had come and what such a great search for Longinus might be. But they, having received from him an oath as a sort of pledge, that he would not make public what they might tell him nor reveal the secret, tell him what had been written to Pilate by Caesar, and that they had come to cut off the heads of Longinus and two soldiers. But when he had learned who they were that were to die with him—those, namely, who had preferred the Jewish bribe to Christ—he signaled to those who had departed from him not long before, so that they might be his companions in the first good things. And when he had magnificently entertained those who had been sent by Pilate once and twice, on the following day, leading them into a field, he awaited those whom he had summoned. And when he learned that they were already approaching, he immediately announces to those of Pilate: “I am the Longinus you are seeking.” They, however, at first did not believe it. For how could they have supposed him to be the one who was about to suffer, when they saw him so joyful in the face of danger? But after they accurately learned that it was he and no doubt was left to them, they took it hard and received many blows from their conscience; saying and doing everything, with the memory still fresh ^D since, for the good things

they were about to perform as a wicked reward? "O unfortunate dinner!" they said, "O grievous hospitality! What made this enter your mind, O friend Longinus, that your house should receive those who had come for your slaughter? O miserable lodging! O bitter entertainment! Your hospitality becomes death to you, and you will set yourself upon the table, having unexpectedly found those you entertained to be brigands. Why did you act in such a way as to grieve those who were about to inflict slaughter upon you? Depart, then, having received as the reward of your hospitality the remission of death; we cannot bear to draw the sword against you; we dread to raise a murderous hand against your right hand; we revere the common salt; we do not revel at the table; we are ashamed before the guardian of hospitality; the hand grows numb at the thought of murder; the mind hesitates to bring death upon a benefactor. ^B Easier for us is the danger prepared by Pilate than the wounds of conscience; we are ready to suffer everything rather than render such thanks to Longinus."

V. Thus, then, the soldiers spoke to the martyr of Christ and were very deeply moved. But they were unable to persuade Longinus, and the man who was truly noble answered them bravely: "Why do you begrudge me great goods, which you are about to grant me even against your will? Why do you so piteously lament my death? Why do you look downcast at this suffering? What I now face is not death, but the first-fruits of life. In truth, my death is rather this life here, because I do not stand before my Lord and enjoy the blessedness that is there. The end will not bring me an end of life, but will bring me to the true eternity and will prepare me to share in the splendor there. You have the consolation, O friends, you have it within yourselves; the comfort is near you; he whom you lament because of his end, you will most gladly call blessed after that end. It is enough, moreover, to turn this into joy, to know ^C that your friend is about to share in many good things, just as if it were of those who were envious, or rather hateful, to strive to deprive him of that splendor. Do not, therefore, lament the one who is departing, but give thanks to the One who is receiving him. You will not deprive me of that glory which I saw moving the very elements. I would not deny Him whom I once confessed to be the Son of God. I fear that I might find creation itself an accuser if I appeared faithless toward Him, at whose passion even the heaven was darkened, and the sun withdrew its rays, and the light of the day was strangely transformed and drawn piteously into night."

VII. While Longinus was still saying these things, and persuading those who had been sent by Pilate to do what they had been ordered, the soldiers who had been condemned to death with him arrive. He, seeing the men with a joyful and bright countenance, reaches out his right hand to them, embraces them by the neck, and kisses their eyes sweetly, and says: "Hail, O fellow-soldiers of Christ and heirs of the kingdom, hail! For now the gate in the heavens has been opened, and the angels are about to receive our souls and offer them to the only-begotten Son. Behold, I see the lamps, ^D and the prizes appear to me, with which we are to stand at the tribunal of the Judge. But if there is any command to you

he said to those who had been sent, “fulfill it.” Then, turning also to the steward of the house, he ordered a clean garment to be brought to him, as one already called to the wedding and the bridal chamber, and hastening toward it. And having put on the garment that was brought, and having indicated with his hand the tomb where he wished his body to be placed, he knelt down with those two who were with him (O blessed end!) and finished his contest; and their heads having been severed, they were enrolled in the choirs of martyrs and apostles, demonstrating the fortitude of the former and the zeal of the latter for Christ.

^B VIII. What, then, followed after these things? When those who had killed him had immediately taken that martyred head of Longinus to provide full assurance that Longinus was dead, they brought it to Pilate, knowing that they would gratify him with no other gift so much as with that one. And he immediately called together the Jews, who would rejoice greatly with him, as they too were thirsting intensely for the death of Longinus and had bought it with money. When this had been done as pleased them, Pilate again commanded something unworthy: and his precious head was thrown ignominiously before the gate of the city. But He who had been well-pleased to suffer for us did not forget, even now, him who had suffered for His sake; but, as if it were a torch shining forever, He provided it to be seen by those who were present before the city, and though it lay in the dunghill, He protected it safely, as if it were being kept in a royal palace, not only not allowing it to suffer anything from the muck, but also delivering others from suffering through it. For a certain widow, who had lost her husband to death and was struggling with an only-begotten and solitary son, and, beyond her widowhood, had also endured the loss of her ^C sight, having overcome her trial through faith, went with her son to Jerusalem, hoping to recover, through the contact with and adoration of the holy places there, those guides of her body which she had lost. When, therefore, led by her child, she took earth and dust and placed it upon her eyes, another heavy calamity was added to her widowhood and the loss of her eyes (such are the judgments of God): for a certain disease, seizing the boy—who had become to her another eye in place of the loss of her own—suddenly, alas, snatched him from his mother's bosom.

IX. Immediately, therefore, a double darkness fell upon her, and the light of her life was extinguished at the same time as the light of her eyes; and the wretched woman was completely motionless, as if struck by some lightning bolt in her calamity. But when, after a little while, she had recovered herself slightly from the evil, she wept miserably and sent forth piteous cries to the Lord, saying: “O Lord, why has Thy hand been made so heavy upon me, and why hast Thou added to the pain of my wounds, and now even the light of my eyes ^D is not with me? Is my strength the strength of stones? I also will say what Job said: ‘Thou hast made me a proverb, O Lord, and a shaking of the head among all, and they have been strengthened against me who wait for...

thee, O Lord of hosts.’ Have I alone sinned so, and am I alone so punished, that thou hast deprived me of the light and of my only begotten son, who was to me like the light? What hope of salvation is left to me? What way of consolation? Woe is me, my dearest one, when will you console me in my affliction? When will you lighten the calamity of my eyes, while guiding me toward salvation? You have escaped, O child, and you have harmed me with a blow greater than any other. You depart, my sweetest plant, before your time, leaving me, wretched one, all alone. But such is a mother, and what is a mother, and the mother of an only begotten child? And thus did she support herself while in such a miserable state.

^{A B C D} X. Meanwhile, as she had fallen into sleep, the divine Longinus appeared to her and told her all the things pertaining to him: the confession he made on the cross of our Savior, the death to which he was condemned by Caesar and Pilate, the cutting off of his head, and all the other things which the martyr magnanimously endured for the sake of Christ. And he also said to her: “You must look for my head, which is covered with much dung, for the healing of your eyes. For if you touch it, light will immediately follow you. Moreover, I will also bring to you your son in glory, so that he may console the grief that you now suffer on his account.” By these words, the woman was encouraged in her soul, and her body was sufficiently strengthened, and she hastened to the work. When she had been led to the place where she learned her head was deposited, she was already there, and with a ready and eager mind she dug with her hands. And when she found the head as if it were some treasure, along with its discovery she also found her own light, and she beheld the sun, or rather she saw the head itself appearing like a brilliant star under the earth. Then, having embraced it warmly and cleaned it of the dung, and anointed it honorably with myrrh, she returned to the one who had hosted her, bringing that precious pearl.

XI. On the following night, the divine Longinus again approached, bringing with him her son, who was smiling with a joyful countenance and shining as if in wedding garments; he was embracing him sweetly and paternally, and he said to her: “Behold, O woman, him whom you were mourning—behold your son whom you were mourning; see how great his honor and glory now are, and console yourself. For God has enrolled him in the army of His kingdom, and I now have him received from the Savior, nor shall he ever depart from my right hand. Take, therefore, my head and the body of your son, and bury them in the same casket, and do not mourn your only begotten son any longer, nor let your heart be stricken. For great glory and gladness, and dances to be celebrated with great praises, and most festal celebrations have been given to him by God, who has received him.” Having heard these things, the mother of the child immediately arose, and having taken the head of the martyr, she returned it to the fatherland of the martyr (the village is named Sandiale); and when she had willingly placed the body of the child beside the head of the martyr, and had arranged them honorably in a notable place, she was saying to herself: “Now I know that to those who love God, all things work together for good.” I was seeking

^D the eyes of the flesh, but I have received also the eyes of the spirit. Grief for the loss of my son afflicted me, but lo, I have him as an heir, standing before God with royal glory; and now, night and day, he smiles gently upon me, his mother, glorified with the honors of the prophets and martyrs; and exulting with them, and carrying the cross with Longinus, and bearing the radiant trophy ^A of the kingdom of heaven among the angels, as a disciple of Longinus he speaks out, and he too sends forth a sacred voice, hymn-like and mystical, truly having the likeness of a victory song: "Truly this was, and is, and shall be the Son of God. His kingdom is the kingdom of all ages, and his dominion shall remain unto eternity." And to him be glory and power unto the ages of ages. Amen.

THE LIFE AND CONDUCT OF OUR HOLY FATHER ABRAMIUS

LIFE AND CONVERSATION OF S. ABRAMIUS THE CONFESSOR AND OF MARY HIS NIECE

Which Symeon Metaphrastes seems to have described more fully from S. Ephrem.

I ^B. The life of men who are lovers of virtue, and the narrative of their conduct, is to be sought with the greatest zeal by all who have chosen to live piously, as being both useful and delightful: but especially by those who apply themselves to virtue, and those who have chosen to travel that blessed path of the commandments of God. For they become to them as it were guides of such a journey, since they have already traversed it, and by their very experience and deeds are able to show those who follow where they must relax somewhat the intensity of their journey, and where again they ought to hasten and stretch forth, and make it more intense, and thus they make the path to virtue unerring and easy for those who set out upon it. Since, therefore, Abramius is most notable among these, not only while he was still alive, but now also as he is portrayed by the word as if in an image, his deeds must be recounted as far as possible, and

we must follow in his footsteps and imitate his virtue to the best of our ability.

^B II. This man, therefore, was a second Abraham, comparable to the first; he was a noble branch which sprouted from a noble root. For his parents were illustrious in lineage, and distinguished in their life, taking great satisfaction in worldly wealth and glory. When they saw the child practicing every virtue from his earliest years, they were seized by a vehement fire of love and desire for him; for such are the bowels of those who have given birth, and such is the nature implanted in them, that the virtue of their children kindles in them a greater flame of natural affection and tenderness. Wherefore, since their love for him was insatiable and exceedingly ardent, they desired to see the fruit of this noble branch, thinking that by seeing grandchildren like images of their son, they might soothe the vehemence of their love for him, and at the same time lay this foundation for the succession of their lineage. Thus they strove that their son should take a wife, be bound by the chains of matrimony, and be advanced to the highest and most distinguished dignities of the world. But for Abramios none of these things was a concern, for he had chosen those things which were utterly contrary to the intention of his parents. Indeed, he had betrothed the Church to himself as a bride, sitting beside her, as ardent bridegrooms are wont to do, by night and by day, and delighting both his soul and his ears with the hymns and melodies offered to God within her. He considered only the true honor gained before God to be progress; but magistracies, powers, heights of honors, the magnitude of dignities, and anything else worldly or earthly, he considered to be all but a mockery and a theatrical performance, no better than a dream and a shadow.

^C III. But when his parents pressed him and most vehemently urged him to take a wife—and indeed his mother, seeing him delaying, would often shed tears from her eyes, which are the surest signs of an inner flame and which, if anything can, are most capable of breaking a son’s spirit—the noble Abramios, not knowing what to do, yielded to his mother’s prayers and his father’s commands and accepted the yoke of matrimony, knowing this to be one of the Lord’s commandments: to obey one’s father and mother. For he knew well that the honor also passed to Him from whom the commandment originated, and who is the common Father of all, the first, the Creator, and the principal cause that we are and live. But let all ears be turned to me to listen; for already in the soul of Abramios the rays of grace begin to rise. Six days had passed since the banquet was held, the nuptials were celebrated, and the marriage hymns were sung; but on the seventh, when the marriage was to be consummated, a certain ^D marvelous thing happened, which could hardly be believed. For Abramios sat at the table with his bride, looking very splendid, truly as a bridegroom in his bedchamber; the whole house, as is to be expected, was filled with noise and acclamation, and all were intent upon the table and the guests; yet a hidden...

^A lover of our salvation, and the intellectual bridegroom and matchmaker of our souls, Christ—unto those who were worthy of his own bridal chambers—gently cast a light into the chamber, a certain sweet ray of that supreme and ineffable splendor that surrounds him, and it beautifully illuminated the eyes of Abramios, as if summoning him to himself and drawing him through that light. For he clearly loved the beauty of that soul, and desired to settle him in far better chambers and bridal rooms.

IV. But Abramios, having been captured to the depths by the sweetness of that light, as it had flowed into his soul through his eyes, and having had his heart filled with that ineffable brilliance and radiance, no longer desired to take any food or drink, but his eyes remained fixed, gazing intently upon the vision of that light. For his mind held the likeness before his eyes, and he prayed that the banquet might quickly be dissolved. And when it was at last dissolved, just as he had desired, and each of the guests had returned home, ^B he slipped out of the house with a quiet step, being seen by no one else except by God alone, who was calling him. And when he was about two stadia away from the city, he arrived at a cell, which was situated in a good place for rest and silence. And how gladly he entered into it! For the vision that had appeared to him had pointed out something to him regarding this dwelling.

Then, as is customary in such affairs, since the name of the bridegroom was being mentioned very frequently at home and everyone was occupied with serving him, but he himself was not there at all, the parents immediately remembered the resolve of the boy beforehand, and that purpose of his toward God, and his great firmness against the marriage; and they could call such a matter nothing else but an overt withdrawal. ^C And therefore they searched—not for theaters, or markets, or palaces, or the houses of friends, but for wildernesses and mountains and the dwellings of monks, and wherever there was any place suitable for withdrawal and silence. Since many people were searching for Abramios everywhere, on the seventeenth day after he had departed he was found in the aforementioned cell, having no one to dwell with him, but being shut up all alone.

Then a stupor, mixed with joy and sadness, seized those who had found him; they rejoiced at finding the youth, but were astonished at such a sudden change and that life in the wilderness, so solitary from the very beginning; and they were grieved at the loss of Abramios, that such a youth should have so removed himself from the world and from the affairs pertaining to the world before his time.

V. But he, ^D seeing them thus affected, addressed them most gently and kindly: "It is not appropriate," he said, "to be sad, nor to marvel, but rather to give thanks to God and to his ineffable kindness and philanthropy, who through a certain wise and hidden providence has led me away from the wickedness of this life. Pray, therefore, my friends and brothers, pray henceforth, that I may bear his good yoke until the end, and not throw away his light burden,

but always follow his law and his commandments and his will." Furthermore, he entreated them most fervently not to keep coming there and disturbing the silence he so desired, nor to become, as it were, an obstacle to his progress toward better things. Having heard and seen these things, they turned back; but he, having blocked the entrance to the little cell and leaving only a small window ^B through which only bread and water could be provided to him, gave himself over entirely to prayer and fasting. While Abramius was thus occupied, and was pursuing such a philosophical way of life, a great report about him spread everywhere, and a great multitude of people streamed together to see him, desiring to receive some blessing from him. In the tenth year after his withdrawal, his parents died; their wealth ^C traveled toward him, and Abramius became the heir of all the paternal estate. But he, having long ago said farewell to such concerns, entrusted the stewardship of such an inheritance to one of his friends, instructing that the greater part of it be spent upon the needy. When this was done as he had ordered, and his riches were ^D beautifully and lavishly distributed, and he had brought aid to many poor, Abramius was released from every care; for his concern was always towards this, that his soul might not be occupied with any worldly and earthly matter, but that he might keep it entirely stretched toward heaven, and always light and uplifted toward spiritual things.

VI. Concerning his poverty, and how he lived, and his virtue.

Since, therefore, he desired to possess nothing, he could not endure to have anything save only what was necessary for the body. These things were ^A a cloak and a hairshirt, with which he was clothed, and a mat for the brief resting of the body, and a cup, from which he partook of that measured water. But by as much as he lacked things pertaining to the needs of the body, by so much did he flourish in the good things of the soul, and he possessed the humility and love that always shone forth from the circle of virtues surrounding him, which are defined as being the mothers of every good. Hence, ^B he showed an equal love in common toward all, but he always preferred the salvation of his neighbor to his own. And the words that proceeded from his lips, what soul could they not suffice to soothe, to draw in, and to entice toward virtue? For he exhorted very instructively, and he reproved paternally and lovingly; and meekness and grace blossomed forth in him on all sides, precisely revealing the internal state of his soul. One might ^C justly marvel also at the man’s endurance and intensity in his struggles; for having spent fifty years in asceticism, he never looked softly or sluggishly upon his labors, nor did he relax anything of the rule of abstinence given to him at the beginning. But just as if he were only then beginning to touch spiritual toils, so did he advance daily to his struggles, surpassing himself in his endurance. ^D It was not the intention of God to permit such a light to remain hidden under a bushel; nor could it be that one who was of such a kind, and who was, as it were, a manifest and brilliant city, as if

^A placed upon a mountain of the greatest accomplishments, should be covered under a bushel or a bed. And so, he was not hidden; but just as the Lord formerly did to the disciples, so now too, to their imitator, Christ from above entrusts the apostolic ministry, and honors the virtue of the man with the chrism of the priesthood, and to the toils of monastic asceticism He fittingly adds the struggles of the athlete, and to the crowns of temperance He adds, surprisingly, the crowns of martyrdom. And in what manner this happened, I shall now explain.

VII. At Lampsacus, which is a town on the Hellespont, there was a certain large and populous village called Taenia. Since those who dwelt in this village were ^B held fast by the grievous error of the Greeks, a great multitude of priests and deacons was sent to them from time to time by the presiding bishop; many also of those who had taken up the monastic life were appointed by him as masters of the village. But no one was able to turn them from their error; nay, rather, they inflicted torments and punishments upon the pious, and there was no kind of penalty that was not terrifically threatened against them. When, therefore, the bishop was in doubt as to what he ought to do for the recognition by the erring of their error, and was at some point discussing the matter with those around him, ^C a mention of the admirable Abramius occurred. And not waiting for the testimony of others regarding him, he at once provided his own judgment, saying: "Believe me, children, speaking with the truth as my witness, that in all my life it has never happened to me to see such a man, and one living in such virtue and piety." When they had confirmed with one voice what had been said by him, he said again: "A thought has come to me; and I judge this to be of a more divine providence and dispensation, to initiate him with the chrism of the priesthood and to entrust to him the village which is by the Hellespont. Perhaps he will be able, with the help of grace from above, to lead many to the acknowledgment of the truth." ^D He said these things, and as he was, the bishop immediately rose from his chair, and went with all the clergy to the blessed man; and when the usual prayers had been said and he had greeted him in Christ and kissed him, he explained everything to him concerning the village. Moreover, he also earnestly requested him to undertake their charge. But he, at first, having taken it ill that the bishop had arrived, as one who thought himself unworthy that so great a man should approach him, and then, having taken what he had said heavily, on account of that great contrition of heart and moderation, and his considering himself worthy of nothing, answered him with such things as were consistent with such a life and such humility: "Who am I, my lord and master, that I should take upon myself the great magnitude of the priesthood and have an intractable people entrusted to me to teach? Leave me, for Christ's sake, leave me to weep bitterly for my own transgressions."

VIII. To whom the bishop, again taking up the discourse, said: "I know clearly, I know, my dear son Abramius, that by the grace given to you by the Spirit, you are powerful in both words and deeds.

Do not, therefore, hesitate to approach a task that will indeed be the cause of such great benefit to souls, and will gain for you great rewards from God." But he, remaining in his previous state, said again: "I beg you, let me weep for my own sins." The bishop, answering, received him with sharper words, saying, "Behold, when you have abandoned the world and all that is of the world, and there is nothing laudable that you have not practiced, and indeed have most accurately kept every commandment of God, you have somehow inadvertently overlooked the chief thing, namely, obedience." ^B When the blessed Abramius heard this, his eyes filled with tears, and sighing deeply from the bottom of his heart, he said: "Who am I, my lord, my lord, that you should hold such thoughts about me, and that you should contend with all your might to pull me, who am vile and cast away, to such a height of virtue?" The bishop answered: "Because," he said, "he who lives for himself alone and cares only that his own affairs are in good order, procures advantage only for himself. But to correct others and to have the care of souls entrusted to one—how much merit that contains, and what a proof it is of charity toward God, and that this is greater than any other worship of the Creator and Lord, I will bring you the testimony of Him Himself: 'If you love Me, Peter, feed My sheep.' Therefore, for God, the flocks are of such great concern that He establishes the care of these as the greatest sign of love for Himself." Persuaded by such counsels, warnings, and sermons, Abramius followed the bishop to the city. And when he had performed over him the rites that were appropriate and had thus created him a perfect priest, and afterwards had escorted him with the whole clergy and the people, he embarked on the journey set before him from there, shedding many tears along the way and invoking the help from above.

IX. When he arrived at the village—and finding it lying in the deep darkness of impiety, and as the divine Paul says, "having changed the glory of the Only-begotten into the likeness of a sculptured image"—he prayed thus to God in the contrition of his heart: "Master who lovest mankind, Christ our God, who alone art good, who alone art long-suffering, who alone art merciful, who created man with ineffable loving-kindness, who understandest all his works and searchest hearts and reins, and knowest his thoughts: do not despise Thy creature, the work of Thy hands, which is being wickedly destroyed by the intellectual beast. But deliver them from the tyranny of the enemy and give them the knowledge of Thy truth. For Thou knowest that not for human glory, but for the salvation of souls, have I undertaken this care and this ministry." Having prayed in this manner, and having received some money that had remained with the friend to whom he had entrusted the care of his resources, he built with it a very elegant oratory. When the building was finished, in

^A it he would offer to God the unbloody sacrifice, and he would again pour forth prayers like those before it, saying: "Gather, O Lord, Thy wandering sheep into this newly-built fold of Thine, opening to them a way of salvation through the knowledge of Thee, for the glory of Thy glorious name. For Thou art the only God of mercy and compassion, who desirest not the death of the sinner, but rather that he should turn and live." Having offered these prayers to Him, and having then strengthened his heart, the wise man, being filled with zeal and desire, went around the statues of the demons, and he destroyed them all and overturned them to the ground, for they were truly worthy only of the earth, and of ash and dust.

X. ^B But after these things, when some of the infidels arrived to sacrifice and pray to such statues, and saw them lying in a grievous state of ruin, they did not fail to recognize their enemy; for the virtue and zeal of Abramius were manifest everywhere and made him known. Having immediately seized wood and stones, they ran in a throng against the saint, and they ceased not to strike him and beat him most cruelly until they saw that he had completely failed and was now breathing his last. For they departed, thinking he would soon die. ^C But he, having recovered around the middle of the night from those unbearable pains, with difficulty rose up as best he could and entered the temple; and having cast himself prostrate on the ground, weeping bitterly and striking the floor with his forehead, he poured forth prayers with the most intense and fervent devotion for their salvation, that the cloud of impiety which held them might be dispelled, and that they might look purely toward the rays of truth.

Now, when they arrived at the temple in the morning, not for the sake of prayer (for how could they, when their souls were still fluctuating on the sea of impiety?), but to see the structure of the buildings (for the temple was well-formed and constructed with appropriate symmetry, and was indeed able to gladden both the soul and the eyes)—when, I say, they had come into the temple and found the saint praying in it, they showed him their former cruelty and rage once again. ^D And having again beaten him severely in various ways, and secured him on all sides with chains and ropes, they dragged him through the middle of the village and cast stones upon him from all sides, denser than falling snow, the foolish ones remaining ignorant of what grace, and for what kind of prayer in their behalf, they were rendering such a recompense.

He, therefore, was at that time left by them half-dead, already broken by the blows and blood flowing to the ground. But when he had revived in the middle of the night and had, as it were, come to himself, he said: "How long, O Lord, wilt Thou forget me forever? How long dost Thou turn Thy face from me? How long dost Thou overlook the works of Thy hands, which are perishing?" These things he said to God, and he mingled his words with tears. Then, however, he rose from the ground with difficulty and in time, just as anyone might who had been reduced by such wounds and blows, and he entered the aforementioned temple again.

^A XI. On the following day, those beasts hostile to Christ came there again, and when they found him praying, they could not even then bear it with moderation; but after they had inflicted upon him the earlier wounds, or even much greater ones, and had bound him with the same bonds and dragged him away, they cast him far from the village. In these things, therefore, Abramius bore himself bravely for three years in succession, neither broken, nor yielding, nor imprecating evil upon anyone; but adding love to hatred, gentleness to anger, and blessings to insults, he admonished, counseled, and exhorted the old, the young—to put it briefly, every age—as fathers, as children, as brothers, showing nothing at all that was of a pusillanimous or abject spirit. ^B Rather, he fulfilled in deed what belongs to the divine David, and amid necessities and afflictions, he meditated upon the commandments of the Lord. Because of these things, his sanctification flourished upon him. For when those who were recently impious and infidels had gathered together on a sudden (and this is altogether the work of God, who teaches man science, and of His grace in Abramius), and all who inhabited that village had come together, and, as is natural in a gathering of a multitude, conversations were held from every side, the matter of Abramius was brought into the midst, and the souls of all were filled with admiration. And so, when, due to astonishment, they had been brought into great doubt: "You see," they said among themselves, "what things have been done by us against Abramius; yet how kindly and clemently he behaves toward us, and with how much courage and nobility he has borne the evils that were inflicted upon him! ^C Truly, were there not some God who is eternal and immortal, who is able to render rewards for the merit of labors, he would not have shown such tolerance for His sake. Furthermore, you see how easily and without any effort he overturned the images of our gods, and not one of those gods was able to ward off the insult from himself!"

XII. These things, indeed, they said among themselves. God, however, put a fitting end to their words. For they, immediately stirred in their souls, said: "Come, everyone, let us fall at the knees of this good man, consenting to the God who is preached by him." As soon as they had said this, they ran immediately to the temple, as if with one tongue and one soul crying out: "Glory be to Thee, O God of heaven, who hast sent Thy servant Abramius to deliver us from the darkness of idols." ^D When that blessed man saw this beyond all hope, filled with an ineffable joy in his heart, he abruptly seizes the opportunity and says: "O fathers in the Lord, and children, and brothers, come, let us together give glory to God, who has so wondrously and mystically illuminated the eyes of your soul; and receive the seal of the Spirit. Draw near to Him, and be enlightened, and your faces shall not be put to shame." With these words he also joins the doctrine of the truth; and when he had explained in detail how one ought to believe, he deemed them worthy of the adoption of sons through baptism,

^A being about a thousand in number. And from that time forward he was constant in admonishing them daily, and teaching them, and conversing with them. They, meanwhile, like some good, rich, and well-watered soil, returned manifold fruits of the divine seeds. Thus, a year was spent by Abramius among them.

XIII. Afterward, fearing that, while he was occupied amidst the cares and tumults of the village, he might indulge himself in some things pertaining to the sustenance of life; and seeing now that his flock was perfected and finished in the divine commandments, he resolved to return to his former solitude. Rising by night, therefore, he said: "Lord, who alone art good, who alone art unmindful of received injury, who hast freed this newly gathered multitude from the chains of the adversary, and by the faith which they have in Thee hast bound them with Thine own bond: preserve this little flock of Thine invincible against the snares of demons; arm them as with a weapon by Thy protection, and gird them about with Thy mighty power. And may I, the wretched one, also find Thee propitious when Thou settest judgment into hope and Thy mercy into the scales. Let this my withdrawal be imputed to me for no account of sin by Thy kindness; for Thou art the knower of hidden things and the examiner of hearts, and Thou hast understood my thoughts from afar, that for Thee and for the love of Thee I undertook this pilgrimage; and behold, I withdraw myself from all these things which pertain to sustenance of life, lest, if I were to strike against any of these as against a reef, I should suffer shipwreck in the midst of the sea of worldly cares." And so, indeed, his prayers came to an end; and when he had fortified the village with the Lord’s sign ^B and had commended it to God, he stole away secretly to his retreat.

XIV. In the morning, therefore, when the villagers had come to the Lord’s temple by custom, in order to obtain the blessing of their Pastor, and had not found him there, confusion, sorrow, and mental anguish took hold of them. They search for him diligently, traversing no small part of the land. But having returned empty-handed, they approach the bishop with hot tears, and lament before him that they have been deprived of their pastor. He, having been wounded by the same arrows of anguish, searches for him in the same way. But after he also knew that he was attempting to do that which was useless (for Abramius was hiding securely for the desire of rest and silence), then, having taken a portion of his own clergy, when he had come to the village, he first of all consoles their souls enough, as they were bearing the pastor's absence with difficulty. Then, having chosen those who were more distinguished in virtue: and having appointed some as presbyters, others as deacons, ^C and having co-opted others into other sacred degrees; and having delivered to them a certain rule, as it were, and a form of the glorification which is carried out in the Church, and having prayed for them a life peaceful and free from trouble, he departs. Which things, indeed, did not escape the divine Abramius; but he also, when in the place where he was hiding he had understood these things by the Spirit, freed his mind ^D from the cares of that village. For even though he was being drawn

by the love of the desert, yet he was also bound again by certain indissoluble chains to the cares for his flock. Having therefore rested his soul from these things, and given due thanks to God, he returns to that ancient abode of his, and having built himself another small cell contiguous to it, and closed up the entrance, he gives himself up once more to his former solitude. ^A It is not worth passing over what things followed from this, and what snares the enemy, who always envies such things, lays for him. It was the middle of the night, when Abramius was performing his customary prayers, and the prince of darkness, having assumed the guise of light and feigning to be this very light itself, sent forth a voice toward him as if from a great multitude, saying: "Blessed are you, old man Abramius, you are truly blessed, and no one has become so perfect in divine matters as you." But he, not being ignorant of the matter, but suspecting him to be that same one who formerly deceived the first man by the suggestion of being like God, and knowing this light to be, as it were, a bait for vainglory, said: "Be silenced; Christ God rebukes you, O wicked one. Depart quickly from me, withdraw from me; for I would not deem myself anything other than earth and ashes." ^B He said these things, and the phantom of light was immediately dissolved into smoke, the spectacle was refuted, and the stage work cast aside its mask. Thus, therefore, having been put to shame, he attacks him through contrary means, attempting to supplant him here through fear, just as he had tried there through flattery. ^C XV. For not much time had passed, and at night he is seen by him again, holding an axe in his right hand, and seeming to cut through the middle beam of the roof, and terribly shaking and vibrating the small cell, and as if summoning a multitude against Abramius with great zeal, and altogether troubling and disturbing the man. But he, even here, was once again the same, not being ignorant of the enemy. And so, not at all terrified by the vision, "All nations surrounded me," he whispered quietly to himself, "and in the name of the Lord I warded them off." With such incantations against the enemy, ^D and with such weapons, did Abramius arm himself. What then does that one do? He wages war against him again after this, appearing to burn the matting with a very violent fire. But he, being in no way affected by that vision, stood upon it with an untroubled state of soul, saying, "You shall tread upon the asp and the basilisk, and you shall trample on the lion and the dragon." Then the appointed time for food arrives, and he indeed places only water before himself; but the wicked one, having changed into a youth, touches the cup with his hand, trying to overturn it. But divine Abramius, not at all terrified, received the water with a sound disposition. And see for me the impudence of the wicked one, and how, though often repulsed, he did not even so depart; but having changed himself in dress and form into one of those who ministered to the saint, when the saint was eating, he offered him a lamp. And then he also seemed to sing such things as: "Blessed are the undefiled in the way,

who walk in the law of the Lord.” But he, the truly blessed one, was utterly deaf, acting as one who stops his ears to these things, until he had taken that small portion of food. And after this little refreshment of his body, having fortified himself with the sign of the cross, he said, “If you know those who love the Lord to be blessed, why do you not cease to continually offer them annoyances and troubles?” And that one, answering, even against his will confesses his own malice and says, “Because I see them pursuing the good, and seeing it, I cannot endure it.” Having said this, he immediately departed.

XVI. Five days had not yet passed when this cruel enemy attacked him again with the malignant throng which was around him, and with his customary machinations and importunity. They seemed to have grasped the small cell on all sides with ropes and to be hauling it with all their might, and urging one another on, as is the wont in a crowd, saying, “See, let us cast Abramius off the nearby precipice.” But he (O dauntless soul! O noble spirit!), did not even fear such a wicked scheme, but quietly chanted to himself, “They surrounded me like bees around a honeycomb; they were kindled like fire among thorns, but in the name of the Lord I have avenged myself on them.” These things he uttered to himself; but they were driven away in great fear, as if before some noble commander, not even enduring the mere threat. Thus, then, did this holy Abramius ascend to such a height of spiritual philosophy. ^C

XVII. Furthermore, it is fitting to add to the accounts narrated about him these things, which, as far as admiration is concerned, yield to none of the preceding, namely, that not only did he always emit a joyful radiance from his countenance—even though he was not of robust body, but indeed seemed consumed and wasted away by great abstinence—but also that at the time of his final migration and dissolution, that flush which he had in his youth did not ignore its nature, but still sat fresh and blooming on his cheeks. And what is far more beautiful than these: the rags with which he was clothed during all that time in which he exercised himself (and Abramius lived in exercise for fifty years) did not yield to the length of time, nor did they fall apart, but they covered the body of the saint in perpetual freshness and preservation. Now it is time to pass on to that great and marvelous narrative, which is the most notable sign of his zeal from God, his apostolic bowels [of compassion], and his good affection. This, indeed, will at first affect the hearers with sadness and grief, but at last it will fill their souls with much pleasure and tranquility, and will persuade men not to despair even if they have been led to the deepest wickedness. And it is as follows:

XVIII. A brother of Abramius according to the flesh died; and he died leaving behind an only daughter. And the child was altogether

^A an infant and was left entirely an orphan; for her mother had already departed this life. Those, therefore, who were her relations, taking her when she was just entering her seventh year, led her to her paternal uncle, the one who was truly divine, Abramius. He, both comforting the loss of his brother and having compassion on the child for that great youth and orphanhood, received her with outstretched hands, and assigned to her the little dwelling outside his own cell. And from then on he would look out upon her from his window, teaching her the holy Scriptures, showing her the best way, strengthening her for spiritual struggles, and anointing her — acting in every way as a certain eagle that supports its nestling with its wings, lifting it up and carrying it, and cutting through the air with it, and thus teaching it to fly toward the height of virtue. She, being still very young and so immature, nevertheless made progress in these things and displayed a virtue much greater than her age, at which Abramius rejoiced with his heart and bowels, just as a father for his own natural daughter, and he prayed that she might complete the course of her asceticism without stumbling. And everyone rejoiced, because at such an age she possessed such success in spiritual matters and was so earnest and laborious about them.

^B XIX. While she was in this state and was so much admired, as she was advancing in age and had now reached her twentieth year, a certain man — a monk in habit, but in mind a corrupter and a wretch — who was in the habit of visiting the blessed one under the law of friendship, upon seeing her with unchaste eyes, for some reason or other, brought upon her an illicit love for his own company. This was entirely a device and a trick of the Evil One, that he might make such a virtue a plaything of bitter lust, and might overcome the sacrosanct soul of Abramius through the greatest distress and calamity of spirit. The virgin, therefore, being coerced by this unchaste desire ^C of the man, led herself out through the window and, having joined herself to that wretch and having satisfied the cruel desire, was immediately wounded in her soul and, being vehemently pricked by what she had dared to commit, lamented over herself most piteously, crying out: "Woe is me, wretched girl that I am! Woe is me, who have done violence to the temple of God! Woe is me, who have defiled the royal image and stained the formation of His hands! Woe to me in my misery; woe to the most wretched of all women, because I have bartered the entire past time of my asceticism for a most brief pleasure! Woe is me, that all things which had been built up for me before have turned out void and in vain! With what eyes shall I gaze upon heaven, having blinded them with unchaste glances? With what tongue shall I beseech God? And what lips shall I move toward supplication, bearing them as I do defiled by pleasures, words, and kisses? With what boldness ^D shall I approach the window, that window through which sweet words used to flow to my throat? How shall I speak to my uncle, I who have transgressed his commandments, and who have lied regarding the promises made to him, I who am depraved, and bad, and polluted, and who have soiled my body and the

soul? Woe is me! What shall I become? Where shall I turn? Why do I still survive? Would that death had come to me before my lust! Would that I had been snatched away from the body beforehand, so that I might at least have had the gift of death, the purity of my body! But now, what fountains of tears will be able to wash away for me such great filth? While she was bitterly lamenting these and similar things, the evil one, through such a passion, caught her up into despair, fearing, as I think, lest she might use her repentance with a more vehement zeal and might shine far more brightly and intensely than before. Despairing, therefore, of her own salvation, she fled to a certain city called Asos, which was two days' journey away; and having lodged in a certain inn, and having changed her appearance and taken on secular clothing, she was ready for anyone who wished, a minister of bitter pleasure.

^B XX. While she was then in this state, though she was set on enticing lascivious eyes, such a dream appeared to Abramios as he was resting in his inner cell: He seemed to see a dragon of enormous size and terrible in appearance, which had crawled out of its cave and, coming to his little dwelling, had devoured the dove that was within; then it returned again to its own crevices. He, therefore, having awakened from fear, was sad and disturbed in spirit, and suspecting that this vision signified some persecution against the Church, he was thereafter more intensely devoted to prayer, asking that the vision might be clearly revealed to him. The outcome, however, did not delay, but on the third day after that, he seemed to see that same dragon again emerge from the place which it had entered; and when it had crawled up to him and had bowed its head at his feet, it was immediately destroyed; and the dove, which the preceding dream had shown to have been devoured by it, flew out whole, pure, and immaculate from the middle of its belly. Having seen these things, and having judged that the vision signified some fall of the soul of his brother's daughter, being ^C disturbed and affected by sickness of mind, he looked out from the window: "My Maria, my Maria," he said, "what is it, O daughter, that has brought upon you such sloth, that for two whole days you have not moved your mouth to praise, have not rendered the customary glorifications, have not sought instruction, nor the hearing of those utterances which were sweeter to your mouth than honey and the honeycomb?"

XXI. When he had said these things to his brother’s daughter, and had heard nothing from her (for how could he, since she was lingering in the inn amidst loves and revelries?), he recognized clearly that the vision signified something concerning her; and immediately affected by the most grievous sorrow, and tortured beyond measure in his vitals, he sent up a sigh like a certain smoke from an internal flame, and he besought God henceforth that she might recover her senses, and rise up, and return to her former manner of upright life. For even though at that time he was ignorant of how she had departed, and of the place in which Maria was then ^D lingering, yet [he knew] that she had secretly withdrawn, and because of that vision which had appeared, he had not conceived a good hope concerning her. And so for two years he besought God

^A regarding her; for the double appearance of the dream indicated the two-year span of time. Toward the end of the second year, one of the friends who had been sent by him in search of her returned, clearly revealing to Abramios where the niece was dwelling, with whom, and in what manner. Immediately, without delaying or putting it off at all, he bid a long farewell to his old age, his stillness, his monastic habit and mien, and his cell, so that he might deliver a soul from the snares of the devil. Having put on a soldier’s cloak, and having placed a coin in his bosom (for he happened to have that much available), and having hired a horse and mounted it with speed, he too, like the first Abraham, set out on the road that led to the inn. For the former, having campaigned against the five kings, rescued his nephew Lot from captivity; but this man, having entered into a struggle with the adversary and having overcome him by force, brought his own niece back ^B to her former exercise of virtue.

XXII. Having reached the inn, then, like an experienced hunter who has often succeeded in such a hunt, he kept watch here and there, in case he might be able to catch a glimpse of the prey, even for a moment. But a great deal of time was being wasted for him, and he could find no way to catch sight of the one he was seeking. For she guarded her modest eyes just as much as she ran from wanton and lecherous ones. Since, therefore, he was unable to catch sight of her in this way, he devised a plan—one that alone is sufficient to demonstrate his great zeal and how he would refrain from absolutely nothing in order to save a soul. For he feigned the appearance and manner of a lover—he who nearly approached the nature of the angels—and pretended to be in love with a carnal passion. And quietly approaching the innkeeper, “I hear,” he said, “that you have a girl here who is remarkably beautiful, who manages the inn, and who receives those who desire her; and so I have come, falling in love with her.” The innkeeper, looking at ^C the white hair of Abramios, and being ignorant of the drama and not knowing what the one who was pretending to be a lover intended, felt loathing for him in his heart and condemned his great immodesty and licentiousness, in that he could not refrain from temperance even at such an age and with such white hair, but that his manner was so widely at odds with his years. Yet, so that he might not be deprived of the fees he would have on account of the girl, he seemed to deliberately provoke and goad him, and to inflame the desire of the holy man even more, saying that the girl was not simply beautiful and lovely, but that she was as much more excellent than other women as the rose is more radiant than the rest of the flowers; and her name was Maria.

XXIII. When the innkeeper had said these things, once Abramios heard the name, he clearly recognized that she was the one, and he doubted no longer. But his hand immediately went to his bosom, and having thrown the coin to the innkeeper, he ordered him to prepare a dinner and to bring the girl out to dinner. So, the dinner having been prepared in a costly manner, the innkeeper [leads] to him ^D

^A brings the girl out to him, who was very delicate, soft, and dissolute. Having seen her thus adorned like a harlot, Abramius was smitten to the heart, and he tried to hold back his tears in silence, so they might not drive away the girl by revealing the ruse. Yet he could not stop their flow, overcome by the necessity of his passion; whence he wept uncontrollably, turning his face to the other side and wiping the tears from his cheeks. In order to remove every suspicion of this, he addressed amorous words to her, nodded, smiled sweetly, laughed in a very seductive manner, and did all the other things that can stimulate and inflame toward love. She, in turn, offered a kiss to Abramius and, embracing him closely, kissed his neck. However, as she gradually sensed the fragrance emanating from his chaste and disciplined limbs, and was reminded of her former way of life and the beauty of ^B chastity, and of the great blessings from which the wretched woman had fallen, she wept very bitterly and groaned, saying, "Woe is me, the wretched one! Woe is me, who am bound by so many ropes of sin! Alas, what shall I do? How does the earth not swallow me up now?" At this, the innkeeper, being perplexed, as he knew nothing at all of what had preceded this, said, "Maria, Maria, my lady, having spent this entire two-year time with you now, I have never seen you brought to such dejection and gloom. Therefore, I am overcome by perplexity and I tremble, wondering from where and how it has come into your mind to say such things." She, as if revealing to him the cause, said, "Because, I wish I had died two years ago; for thus I would have been entirely among the blessed."

XXIV. ^C Fearing at these words that the holy Abramius might be exposed, and then his niece might flee as a fugitive, stung by that great repentance and no longer bearing to look upon him whose commands she knew she had openly violated—and so the prey might escape from his very hands before he had fully consumed the bait—and wishing for this reason to remove every suspicion, he adopted the more wanton manner of a lover. "Cease," he said, "and stop these gloomy words, woman; for we did not come here for that purpose, that you should remember what you have done today." And having turned to the innkeeper, he said, "Friend, prepare a drink for us again, so that we may both enjoy ourselves; for I have come from afar, as you see, because of her." Accordingly, a lavish banquet having been ^D provided, he who for fifty whole years had not even endured the sight of a woman—and who had not consumed even bread or water, the most necessary things, to the point of being full—drank wine, ate meat, and feasted with a harlot. For he also knew the blessed Paul, to whom he himself looked and whose heart and zeal he strove to imitate, had once purified himself and even shaved his head, and had circumcised Timothy, and thus had not spared even Judaism, so that he might draw faithless souls to piety.

XXV. When they were feasting in this way, taking

each other by the hand, they enter into the innermost chamber. Now ^A a bed was standing in this room, suitably soft, able to provide rest to one lying upon it; when Abramius, who had always used the earth as his bed, sat down upon it delicately, the girl said, "Allow me, father, to unbind your sandals." He bade her first to secure the door with the bolts, and when she insisted more vehemently that she should first unbind his sandals, the blessed man did not endure it. Persuaded at last, when she had firmly locked the door, she clasped the holy man affectionately. But when Abramius saw her held fast in an inescapable trap, and the prey thus within the nets, then truly laying aside the character of the lover, and throwing off all that scene and hypocrisy, he revealed the Abramius within, and taking the adornment from the head of his niece, and uttering a heavy and sorrowful groan: "My heart," he said, "Mary, do you not know who I am? Do you not recognize your kinsman? What then has happened to you, my soul? Who is it that has dragged you toward destruction? Where now is that angelic form of virginity? Where is the life crucified? Where is the tear of compunction? How did you descend from such a height of virtues to the ultimate pit of deception? Why did you not make known to me that relentless battle of the enemy? Why did you not triumph over that grievous fall at once at your feet? ^B By all means, I and my friend Ephrem would have interceded with God for you with tears and prayers. Why have you departed so far from us? And why have you forgotten me, as if I were one dead in your heart? Why have you been so taken by despair, which is the inevitable hook of the evil one, so as not to spare yourself henceforth, but to dare shamelessly to do the most disgraceful things, and to add your own wounds to the blows of the enemy, when you ought instead to have risen up and shown great repentance for what you had dared? Do you not know the bowels of God toward us, and how He cares for us more than a mother, wanting to gather us—even while being often despised and overlooked by us—just as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings? For these reasons, therefore, I entreat you, touch the path that leads to the better, and by my grey hairs, and by the toils undertaken for you, and those intolerable pains of soul, and this much despondency and confusion, return to your former way of life; and grant me to breathe a little, and do not send my old age to Hades with grief."

XXVI. Saying these things to his niece, Abramius seemed to be singing to a deaf person; for having looked down, and her voice having been held back by that great shame, she stood looking at the ground, and many colors fled from her face, from which the agony ^C and the disturbance of her soul were made manifest. Seeing her thus confounded, he sought to restore her, with much gentleness and kindness: "Why, child, do you not answer me? Tell me, do you not know that I traveled such a long road for your sake? Do you not know that I feigned all these things for your salvation, the military clothing, the love, the consumption of meat, [which you know of no other thing] except the cell and silence? There is no sin

^A of human affairs for which one ought to despair. There is no wound of the soul so incurable that it may not be cured, if it is burned by the beautiful fire of repentance. Upon me be your iniquity, my child! I will render an account for you to Christ; only come with me, and let us return to the dwelling of the desert. To this, she, with difficulty, says something humble and sad, and as if deadened by despondency: "If I have not even the eyes to look toward you and your face, venerable Father, being covered by such great shame, how shall I be able to approach God, having my soul grievously wounded by the evil one and teemming with so many ulcers of sins?" But he, replying ^B once more: "Upon me, he says, my child, be your iniquity, and your actions will be a burden upon my neck; only let us go to our former dwelling; for behold, even the holy Ephrem is held by shame and despondency on your account. Grant, therefore, that we might breathe and be freed from this grievous sorrow on your account." At these words, the girl, her soul being shattered, falls just like that harlot at the feet of the master, bitterly lamenting and drenching them with rivers of tears.

XXVII.

^B XXVIII. And he, having reached a deep old age, departs from this life and passes to the eternal tabernacles, with a great multitude flowing together from every side for the carrying out of his body, and with each one striving to pull away some small part of his garments and hair-shirts, as a treasure for every good and as a repellent for all evils. In the fifth year after his death, his brother's daughter also dies. When she had surrendered her soul to the longed-for Lord, and was already dead, in the burial a most sweet grace bloomed upon her face, and a certain ray shone forth from there, an open sign of the splendor of her soul in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom is due all glory, honor, and adoration unto the ages of ages. Amen.

MONTH OF APRIL

MARTYRDOM OF SS. AGAPE, CHIONIA AND IRENE

THINGS WHICH WERE SUFFERED AT THESSALONICA.

I. Inasmuch as greater grace has been bestowed upon the human race by the arrival and presence of our Savior Jesus Christ than there had been heretofore, so too the victory of holy men has become greater. For there began to be overcome not just those enemies who are seen with bodily eyes, but also those who cannot be perceived by the sense of sight; for the very demons, whose natures are invisible, were overcome and delivered to the fire by these most pure and honorable women, who were filled with the Holy Spirit. Such were those three holy women who traced their origin from the city of Thessalonica: which city the most wise Paul celebrated, when, praising its faith and love, he said: "In every place your faith in God has gone forth." And elsewhere: "Concerning brotherly love," he says, "we have no need to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love one another."

Those women, who had adorned themselves with virtues and were obedient to the evangelical laws, on account of their supreme love for Him and their hope of heavenly blessings—imitating the deed of father Abraham—left behind their homeland, their kin, and all their property; and fleeing the persecutors, just as Christ commanded, they sought out a certain high mountain, and there they occupied themselves with divine prayers. And indeed they brought their bodies to the height of the mountain, but their minds were fixed in heaven itself. But when they had been caught in that place, they were led to the magistrate who was the author of the persecution, so that, fulfilling the remaining divine precepts and keeping their love for Christ even unto their own death, they might attain the crown of immortality. One of those three, possessing the perfection of the commandment, loving God with all her soul and her neighbor as herself, as the holy Apostle says:

II. When, therefore, a persecution had been leveled against the Christians by the emperor Maximian, those women, who had adorned themselves with virtues and were obedient to the evangelical laws, on account of their supreme love for Him and their hope of heavenly blessings—imitating the deed of father Abraham—left behind their homeland, their kin, and all their property; and fleeing the persecutors, just as Christ commanded, they sought out a certain high mountain, and there they occupied themselves with divine prayers. And indeed they brought their bodies to the height of the mountain, but their minds were fixed in heaven itself. But when they had been caught in that place, they were led to the magistrate who was the author of the persecution, so that, fulfilling the remaining divine precepts and keeping their love for Christ even unto their own death, they might attain the crown of immortality. One of those three, possessing the perfection of the commandment, loving God with all her soul and her neighbor as herself, as the holy Apostle says: