Month of November

THE MONTH OF NOVEMBER. THE CONTEST OF THE HOLY AND GLORIOUS MARTYRS OF CHRIST: ACINDYMUS, PEGASIUS, ANEMPODISTUS, APHTHONIUS, AND ELPIDEPHORUS.

^A I. Although the Persians were the first to worship Christ when He was born of the Virgin, and honored Him with gifts, yet afterward they inhumanely punished the servants of Christ because of Him. This is evident from many other things, and also from the subject now before us. For when that proud Sapor held the Persian scepter, and had inclined toward tyranny, and had been incited to persecute those Christians who were under his power, a great darkness covered the Church of Christ, and it was filled with turmoil and confusion. There was no Persian who held back from fiercely defending his own religion. Therefore, those who worshiped Christ were daily accused and delivered up to the royal hand; among whom they also denounced to the king the blessed Acindymus, Pegasius, and Anempodistus, who were hiding in a certain small house, as men who held the opinion of the Christians, and who were teaching the dogma ^B of Christ to many of those who frequented them, and persuading them to despise the royal decrees. And he, being immediately highly enraged, ordered the saints to be seized and brought before him.

II. But when they had arrived, he immediately masked his anger with a pretense of moderation: "Little children," he said (those whom he was, not long after, to butcher), "tell me what is your homeland, whence you derive your lineage, and what is your profession?" The saints answered: "Both our homeland, and our lineage, and our pro-

^Afession is faith in the Trinity, which is one God, from whom to all who exist, essence, and to those who live, life, as if from some perennial fountain, is derived." When the tyrant had heard this, "It seems," he said, "that my leniency, and that which is not prone to punishments, has rendered you stubborn and bold in responding." Acindynus immediately said: "What response was made otherwise than was fitting, or what do we seem to you not to have answered as we should?" "Because," said he, "you answered other than what you were asked, and unless you hasten to sacrifice, you will regret it in vain through repentance." Saint Anempodistus, with a free flow of words, said to the tyrant: "It was fitting, O king, for us to answer nothing at all to this word, but to pass over your insult toward us in silence: but because the fervor of faith in Christ does not allow us to be silent, hear us saying these things to you: Why do you curiously inquire about fatherland, lineage, and profession? For all these things, as we have already said, is the Trinity for us, the architect of all; but the gods, to whom you order us to sacrifice, ^B we do not know, nor do they exist at all. For it is fitting to love the truth, but we know that demons are deceivers and bring ruin to souls. Who, when they had been created by God, and had fallen away from Him who had made them, were condemned to eternal fire." The tyrant, however, being inflamed to anger by these things, threatens them with the most bitter death. To whom the saints replied, just as if he had promised good things, and not threatened them with torments: "You have barely recognized that which is useful and salutary for us."

III. That the Martyrdom of the Saints was Endured with Superhuman Strength

^C III. Then, therefore, he commands them to be stretched out by four men and beaten over the whole body with rods. But they, when they had lifted their whole mind to God, were so affected, as if, while they were being beaten with rods, they were present as spectators of others suffering. On that account, they neglected the blows; but they sang a fitting canticle to God, saying: "Thou hast seen, O Lord; do not remain silent, and do not depart from us." Then the lictors who were tormenting them, already exhausted, because the torments were produced for a longer time, others take their place. But when the tyrant saw this patience of the martyrs, which was above man, and that they bore the blows as if they were some vain thing without pain, he was led into the greatest admiration and seized by dizziness, ^D and he falls backward, so that those present thought he was dead. Then, when he had recovered, even if not to that which was fitting and the truth, but when he ought to have been led to piety by the endurance of the athletes, which surpassed man, he appeared to be the more overcome by anger, and he orders the martyrs to be stretched with ropes in the air, and fire to be lit beneath them, so that by the double torment their souls might the more quickly break forth. But they, stronger than any iron and any adamant, as if showing a more recent and greater endurance toward the torment, and not in a living body and one feeling pain, but

rather in some inanimate object, endured the punishment; they cared nothing for it, but turned their tongue and mind toward prayer. "You who are our illumination," they said, "Christ our God, who for our sake bore insults and were stretched upon the wood, and before those who were killing You prayed, establishing for us the bounds of long-suffering and forbearance, look upon our humiliation and affliction, and deliver us from the machinations of this tyrant's wicked soul. Let all know that we have You as God in heaven, who can do all things, and Your Father who is without beginning, and Your adorable and most holy Spirit, forever. Amen."

^B IV. As they prayed these things, the Lord appeared to them in our own form, and loosed their bonds, and cooled the fire, just as He once did for the youths in Assyria; and thus the saints, unharmed and safe, stood before the king. But he, being utterly dull and senseless, was neither struck with awe by the paradox of the sight, nor moved by the unconquerable endurance of the martyrs. "What do you think," he said, calling them by name, "have these small torments persuaded you to depart from your ruinous deception, and to yield to our decrees? Or do you wish to persist still in your error, trusting in your sorceries?" The blessed Acindynus answered, "We neither know sorceries, nor have we ever learned them, nor have we ever used such deceptions. But since you suppose the insuperable power of God and the signs above nature to be sorcery, and imagine them to be delusions and not truth, you shall henceforth be speechless, and your tongue bound, that you may have the testimony of God's power from your own self. If, therefore, you are able to speak, tell us, to which gods do you command us to sacrifice?" ^C And there was no voice and no hearing; but just like his own gods, he remained speechless, indicating the desire of his soul by a nod alone. The servants of Christ, reproving and mocking his folly, said, "We are departing; but you do not say anything to us at all."

V. When the saints pretended to withdraw, the king was likewise speechless, frequently staring at those standing around, and by nods commanding the seizure of the saints. Then, when the servants were unable to understand what he wanted, he became half-mad with perplexity and anger, and tore his cloak, and threw to the ground what is called the *biblatorium*, and thus appealed to those present for pity. But the soldiers of Christ, having pity on both them and the tyrant because of their mindlessness, said, "O blindness of men! ^D Because, closing their eyes of their own will, they do not wish to gaze at the light of the truth. But open, Lord, the eyes of their heart, so that they may be enlightened by the light of Your knowledge, and may discern Your wonders, and may glorify Your adorable and most holy name." As they prayed these things, an angelic host appears to them, the splendor of which those who were dim-sighted in the eyes of the soul were unable to perceive.

But those holy [men], ^A perceiving the customary succor of God, addressed their thanksgiving to him, saying: "O God our refuge and strength, a helper in afflictions which have found us greatly; but stand up, and bring us help yet again, and deliver us from the surrounding distresses, for the sake of thy name."

VI. The son of perdition, however, understanding nothing from this, nor becoming any better himself, but as if bereft of his senses, began to send forth groans, and beat his face, and was like one who is perplexed and knows not what to do. When the lover of mankind, the disciple of the lover of mankind Christ, Acindynus, had beheld him thus affected, overcome by sorrow and shedding tears over the hard-heartedness of his heart, he turned to him and said: "Since, O man, neither the discipline of God hath made thee understand His power, but thou of thine own accord thus remainest wicked, rejoicing in the darkness of impiety and embracing ignorance, may it be that thou hast authority to speak without hindrance, ^B and that there be nothing which obstructs thy tongue." And to him, the bonds of the tongue are immediately loosened, but the eyes of the soul are not at all loosened from the cloud which obstructed them, but, as if nothing new had happened, and he had suffered nothing, he continued to execute those things which he did before, and against those who were standing around, from the doubt of his mind, he wished to cast anger, being full of shame. Acindynus then said, "And he, and his companions, Pegasius and Anempodistus, will receive the end which is meet; but as for you, O vilest of all ministers, I will not at all allow [you to escape], but will treat you as is fitting; and [I demand] rightful satisfaction for the disobedience." He therefore commands iron beds to be brought, and much fire to be placed underneath, and that they be sprinkled with fat and pitch and resin, and that the saints recline upon these burning beds. They, however, as if they were lounging in some dewy and flowery meadow, ^C with a constant countenance and a great and exalted soul, leaped onto the beds. Then, when they had extended themselves for many hours, singing a psalm appropriate to the time, they said: "Thou hast tested us, O Lord, as silver is proven; thou hast laid afflictions upon our backs, and give to us who are present thy living power. Grant also to those standing around to acknowledge thy holy name, to whom thou hast made known thy power and thy wonders."

VII. When they had said these things, a voice from heaven was heard, saying: "Since by your deeds you have confirmed your faith, your petitions shall lead to fulfillment." For the divine voice was immediately followed by the effects. For as many of those standing around as were deemed worthy to hear, exclaimed: "One alone is the true God whom the martyrs worship, one strong, one invincible, and besides him there is no God. Blessed, therefore, are you, who have become martyrs of his presence on earth, and by his

surrender of your souls to death, have betrothed yourselves to a death that wins eternal life. But we also beseech you to hold out a hand to us and draw us up from the abyss of ruin.

The martyrs, having considered their response to this prayer, and having lifted their eyes to the heavens, said: "O God most high, look down upon thy servants who call upon thy name in truth, and bestow a voluntary rain upon thy new inheritance—to those, I mean, who have now believed in thy name—so that this rain, which proceeds from thee, may be a medicine to them, purging away the diseased matter of sin, and may all know that thou alone art God, and that all things yield to thy power, O King." ^A

At the end of the prayer, lightning flashed and thunder broke forth, and a torrential rain poured down, such that the adversaries, seized with fear, were scattered this way and that, leaving only those who had believed in Christ, who remained in the company of the holy martyrs. To these the saints said: "Do not fear, you who have dedicated yourselves to Christ, for it is even for your sake that these things have come to pass."

VIII.

The holy Acindynus said: "We know, he said, one God who is in the heavens, and him alone we worship, who is able to cast both body and soul into eternal fire." ^C To this the king said: "And I myself, he said, wish for you to worship one God." "And how," said the martyr, "do you command us to sacrifice to him?" "By following me," he said, "and whatever you see me doing, that you also do." "But you," the martyrs said, "will do as you know how; we, in turn, will act according to that which we have been taught."

IX.

by the hand, he entered with him. ^A His soul being expanded by great joy, he shouted in a loud voice, "Great is the invincible power of Zeus!" Then, turning to the holy men, he said: "How does this seem to you? Shall we ourselves be the first to start the sacrifice, or shall we yield this to you?" The holy men answered, "As your authority might wish." And the king permitted the holy men to pray first. When they had bent their knees and were offering prayer to God, the whole temple was shaken by an earthquake, and the statue that was in it fell and was shattered. From this, the king, having become terrified, rushed out of the temple; then, as the holy men stood up from prayer, ^B and the traces of tears were still visible on their faces, the king said: "Are these your god-hated promises? Was it on such hopes as these that I brought you into the temple of the gods?" But the holy men said, "You have found us to be in no way deceptive, O king; but what we promised, we have done." And he replied: "If I expected the truth to turn out to such an end as you say, I would not have heeded at all from the beginning what was said by you; it remains, therefore, to repay you with rewards worthy of your deeds."

X. He spoke, and immediately ordered three cauldrons to be brought, and lead to be cast into them, and for a great fire to be kindled beneath them; and he ordered posts to be fixed on either side of the cauldrons, ^C having double heads facing upwards, and these being separated; through which chains were let down, and having grasped the waists of the holy men, they were to let them down into the cauldrons and draw them back up. Having endured this horrible torture, each of the holy men sang a hymn appropriate to his calling and to the punishment. For the blessed Pegasios said: "For with Thee is the fountain of life; in Thy light, O Lord, shall we see light." And the illustrious Anempodistos said: "My feet stood in uprightness, and Thy law is a lamp to my feet, and a light to my paths." And the divine Acindynos said: "The pangs of death encompassed me, the dangers of Hades have found me; but even if I have walked through fire, Thou, O Lord, brought us out into refreshing rest." ^D Now the emperor, blinded in soul, seeing that the holy men suffered no harm from the lead, stood closer to them: "I have known," he said, "your sorceries," and indeed with his own hands he grasped the chains and let the holy men down into the cauldrons even as far as their necks. In the submersion of the cauldrons, the lead spilled over and left them near empty. Immediately, therefore, the holy men said to the tyrant: "You yourself, wishing to be the author of our death, have missed the mark, God having entirely saved us; but your pain shall return upon your own head, and you will reap fruits worthy of your deeds." While they were saying these things, the chains fell away and were dissolved.

XI. One of the servants, by the paradox of the spectacle

^A astonished, cried out: "Great is the God of the Christians." And he declared himself a Christian, and said to the tyrant: "Most cruel one, how long will you harass us with your commands, ordering us to undertake things that are ineffective? For we see that those who yield to you suffer more than the martyrs of Christ." The tyrant, disturbed by the suddenness of his change, hid his anger within himself, ^B feigning gentleness, and said to Aphthonius (for that was the name of him who had believed): "Order them to come out of the cauldrons quickly." And they, safe as gold emerging from a furnace, immediately stood before the king. But the courageous Aphthonius, as if confirming the faith newly planted within his piety, said: "Let it be known to you, O king, that I worship the God whom the Christians worship, and I serve Him alone, and I join myself to these holy ones." The king, astonished at his very bold and frank speech, ^C attempted to win him over with care and promises of honors, saying: "I was the cause of this change for you, since I have left you for so long in the service in which you were placed, and have not deemed you worthy of greater honors; but if we have fallen short up to now, we will hasten to fulfill it. Nothing daunted, therefore, tell me which of the offices you desire, for we will in no way refuse your request." But the newly-enlisted soldier of Christ said: "My desire, O king, is to receive a service that you yourself are not able to provide, but only the ^D immortal King, who knows how to bestow eternal gifts as well." Understanding then his firm and unshakeable resolve, he immediately passed the sentence of death upon him by the sword, granting him in the way of punishment those things which were most to be desired. He, having received the decision with great joy, said: "I thank you, Lord, because being unworthy, You save me, because of Your great and ineffable mercy. Therefore my soul shall praise You, and Your holy name shall glorify, now and unto the age to come. Amen." XII. Then, turning to the holy ones, he said: "I, for my part, my beloved masters and lords, depart now to tread the path set before me. But I beg of your compassionate and philanthropic soul, do not remember against me what I did to you when ordered, but rather pray for me to our common Master, that He may look upon me kindly and propitiously, and that He may not separate me from your portion." To whom the holy martyrs said: "Be of good courage, brother, and tread the blessed path; for you are blessed in your departure, because you are the first of us to stand before the longed-for Trinity, and you will receive the rewards of your labor, being counted worthy of eternal light and everlasting glory. Wherefore do you yourself rather remember your fellow-competitors, and pray that we, having completed what remains of the contest without hindrance, may be counted worthy of the same rewards and the same lot as you." When the holy ones had said these things, the divine Aphthonius embraced them, and having shed the tears of longing upon their necks, and having joyfully embraced their limbs, he was led to death

Then, having reached the appointed place, he had his blessed head cut off, and he commended his soul to God. The Christians who happened to be present ran as if to some treasure, and having wrapped his precious remains in clean linen cloths, they placed them in a coffin, still expecting the completion of his fellow-athletes, that they might thus store up for themselves greater wealth.

XIII. After these things, the king said to the holy ones: "Do not suppose," he said, "that I will prepare for you a death as light and easy as that which occurred for the wretch Aphthonius. For, by consuming your flesh little by little with most bitter torments, I will bring upon you a most piteous death." Having said these things, he ordered ^B ox-hide skins to be brought, and the holy martyrs to be cast into them, and then to be cast into the water. This having been done with great speed, the blessed Aphthonius appeared to them along with three others, dressed in white robes, by whose divine power the skins were torn asunder, and the holy ones were delivered from them to dry land unharmed. When they were thus seen by the tyrant, he, thinking that what he had ordered had been carried out by them, immediately rose up to enact punishment upon the executioners, and he ordered their hands to be cut off with a sword; there were four of them in number. Then, in the place of the holy ones, he ordered them to be cast into the depths of the sea. ^C When this had come to pass, and they were being delivered to the sea, they cried out: "Lord, receive our spirits, and count us worthy, though we are unworthy, to be numbered with your holy martyrs." Sapor, the God-hated man and a very demon, having ordered the blessed men—I mean Acindynus, Pegasius, and Anempodistus—to be shut up in prison, was himself the most grievous punisher of himself, fretting over current events and being tossed by many turmoils in his soul, and not even consenting to take any food at all.

XIV. Having therefore called together those who held the first positions under him, he said: "Why have you left me alone, ^D to toil over the matters set before us, while you have chosen idle silence, bringing me no help either in word or deed? But if I should wish to introduce something new and unusual, I have you immediately standing in my way and opposing me. Now, however, when nothing new is being introduced, but our ancestral dogma is being treated with contempt and is on the verge of falling, and not one of you shows even the appearance of suffering, I am at a loss in all things and am suffocating." To these words, Elpidephorus, who was then the first of the senate, and a burning lover of the faith of Christ, and in short a certain Nicodemus and a hidden disciple of Christ, said: "And what, O king, can we do to help you in these matters? For your power, which excels all in experience of affairs and has authority following upon its will, does not need us. Moreover, the abundance of instruments which are prepared for torture clearly suggests to you the deliberation of those things which ought to be done." The tyrant said again: "What, then, am I alone among these unholy ones..."

able to bark?" And the saint replied: "If, then, this seems to you ^A arduous, let them go according to their own will." But that most terrible Sapor, "But as much as is to be conjectured from your words," he said, "you appear to adhere to them rather than to us; for when I address my words to all in common, you alone give the answers and suggest that I should let the unholy ones go unpunished."

XV. The Martyrdom of Elpidephorus and the Others

When these things had been spoken with suspicion to Sapor, the blessed Elpidephorus said: "Since I am the first of the senate, these men rightfully yield the place of speaking to me. But let them also say whatever occurs to each one, since you wish, O King, to hear the truth in everything." But one of the senators, having his soul illumined by divine grace, said: "And what is surprising to the truths, O King, if we yield ^B to Elpidephorus, who is the first of the senate, and who answers nothing foolish or unseemly, the right to speak?" The king, having perceived the truth, said: "I see that your mind is not rightly disposed toward our power." Philologus, a man by name, younger in age, most sharp in intellect, and most ardent in zeal, said: "O King, the evil suspicion that has vainly attacked your soul concerning us will not end in a good outcome for us. For you are full of suspicion, intending to condemn all to destruction." The tyrant, filled with anger in his soul at the sudden boldness of Philologus, said: "Who even asked you, so that you should give so sharp an answer?" To this that noble man, not considering the anger of the tyrant, nor setting any store by his power, said: "But when someone speaks the ^C truth, O King, will you need to be angry immediately?" Then looking also at the senators who were standing by: "By your salvation," he said, "one ought not to answer such a man. For where could a soul filled with madness receive a true word?" Upon these things, the tyrant, filled with anger after the likeness of the serpent, as the divine David says, orders soldiers to stand before the doors, so that they might dispatch with the sword those who contradicted him, and first of all Elpidephorus. But one Callistratus, a friend of the king, clinging to him by the neck, begged him to restrain his anger; and all who were present spoke boldly: "Most miserable of kings," they said, "you will know now precisely that we do not think as you do, nor do we strive equally for your impiety." And having said these things, they went out, thus leaving him. But he, being night and altogether a son of darkness, held to the night as a collaborator for his most evil deeds; and at dawn, sitting upon the tribunal, he orders three pits to be dug, and wild beasts and reptiles to be cast into them, and Saint Acindynus and his companions to be thrown in with them.

XVI. The Suffering of the Saints in the Pits

When therefore they had cast the saints into them, the martyrs were chanting: "O God, O our God, we watch for Thee from light; our soul has thirsted for Thee, has thirsted for Thee ^D

for the living and mighty God. But do Thou act with us according to Thy gentleness, and lead us forth from the pit of misery; for Thy mercy is kind, and Thy goodness ineffable." And at the moment of their prayer, ^A angels appeared shining, driving away the beasts as if with iron rods, and taking each of the saints by the hand, they led them forth from the pits unharmed. But the king, though he ought to have understood the power of Christ and ceased at length from attempting the impossible, instead ordered the saints to be suspended and flayed again. And when he saw their flesh being cut away for many hours, and that they were enduring the contests with a noble soul, he commanded them to be taken down from the wood and their heads to be cut off. For he himself grew more weary in inflicting the punishments than the martyrs did in enduring what was inflicted, and the excess of their nobility overcame the immeasurability of his cruelty. And as they were already being led to death, those who had been illumined by them unto piety, together with the senate, said, "Dismiss us, O teachers of piety, who [otherwise] sit on the seat of the pestilent in the midst of the assembly of the wicked, for we have not yet attained to the measure of the age in Christ." But the blessed ones answered them, "Christ our God, who teaches man knowledge, who is the illumination of our souls, He Himself shall illumine you and make you wise, and shall establish you on the foundation of His faith."

^B XVII. These things were reported to the king, and [it was told him] how a great multitude was following the saints, hindering their slaughter. He immediately sent a band of soldiers against those who were following the saints, with orders to drive them away. But those noble men, who had determined to resist sin unto the end, regarding this as nothing, chose rather to die with the saints. When the tyrant learned again of their steadfastness, he ordered all of them to be slain together with the saints, making their love of piety a pretext for his desire to kill men. And being incited by certain men who were zealous for the idols—as though the senate were the cause of so many evils—he ordered the blessed Elpidephorus to be brought, seeing that he held the first honors among them. He, turning to the unconquered martyrs who were not yet perfected, said, ^C "Pray for me, Fathers in the spirit, my guides in the faith of Christ, that I too may not fall away from your company." To whom the saints said, "Take courage, brother, take courage and do not be downcast; for you shall precede us, being the first to be presented to the heavenly Master." Having therefore embraced them, he was led to the tyrant; and three others, sharing the same mind and intent, followed with him.

XVIII. The tyrant said, "What has come over you, O fools, that you have abandoned the ancestral religion of the [heathen] gods and attached yourselves to these impostors? But unless you quickly come to your senses and return to your former ^D

^A way, a bitter end of life awaits you." To whom Elpidiphorus, with an unperturbed spirit, replied: "Be it known to you, O king, that we do not worship those who are not gods, and we oppose your decree. Therefore, do whatever seems good to you." "Since this is pleasing to you," the tyrant said, "to follow these impious men and share in the same fate, then we shall not deprive you of your desire, but I order your heads to be cut off with the sword." When the saints heard this sentence, they were led to death rejoicing and exulting, accompanied also by soldiers, numbering about three hundred, who with the divine Acindynus, I say, and those with him, chose to die, and so to come to Christ, whose mercy is above life, they receive death by the sword, Acindynus himself greatly creating enthusiasm in them and encouraging and urging them on to martyrdom. ^B

XIX. Now when the soldiers and the senators had been put to death, the tyrant immediately summoned the blessed Acindynus, Pegasius, and Anempodistus. Then, putting on the fox’s skin and feigning gentleness and mildness with great perversity, "What is this," he said, "such resolution of yours, that you are prodigal of the present life and choose to exchange it for death? My witness is the sun, which is delightful to all, that my heart and soul are torn apart by your death; for I pity you both for your age and your youth, and besides, for the beauty of your body, which even a beast would pity and spare. Believe me, therefore, I who take great care of you and advise what is useful. For you see how I spared no one, neither senator nor soldier; but I take fatherly care of you and treasure you, especially having learned of your manliness and nobility from your endurance in ^C torments. For if you would be persuaded by me, I will deem you worthy of the first honors and I will bestow upon you gifts worthy of your virtue." But the saints said: "Do not wish to provide trouble for yourself, nor for us in vain, but let no one show us either pity or mercy; for you will never bend our mind, neither by promises of good things nor by threats of evils, nor by the fear of death, which is terrible to you. For how could those be afraid of death, whom it grieves all the more that they are able to die for Christ only once, and not a thousand times? Quickly, therefore, do that which has already been judged by you. For the quire of the saints awaits us, so that we may thank you even more for such a swift consummation." ^D

XX. But he, casting off his mask and his feigned gentleness, said, "By the gods, you shall not obtain what you desire." He orders them, therefore, once they had been bound in iron, to be kept in the most secure custody. And he himself, having spent the whole night deliberating by what death he might destroy them, when morning had already come, he orders a furnace to be ignited, so that many divine martyrs might be contained therein, so that their holy bodies might be completely consumed, and not even dust remain for the Christians, out of desire for them [longing for their]

^A consolation. When they were quickly brought from the prison, the tyrant shouted to them: "Behold the fruits of your disobedience! I point out to you the furnace with my hand, which no one else, but you yourselves have kindled." The blessed martyr of Christ, Acindynus, having understood the malicious and wily nature of the tyrant: "Perhaps," he says, "your mother gave you that name prophetically; for it signifies 'the father of demons.' But you are not a father of demons, but a son, truly, of the one who was a murderer from the beginning; for you imitate his works, just as he also delights in the blood of men." He, however, having been stung by the bitterness of the word, and having sent for his mother, said: "What, mother, does this name signify?" She replied: "I know, she says, that this is your paternal name." "But what can it possibly mean?" he asked. She answered, "But, he says, these evil demons, as you say, call this the 'father of demons.' If they speak the truth in this, I will not suffer it to be for them, but I will first deliver them to bitter death." She, smiling, said: "By all means, if they knew this, they would not dare to speak thus before many present." From this, his anger became uncontrollable, and immediately he would have attacked this abhorrent woman, and at once have renounced God and their common nature, ^B and would not even have respected the name of mother, which is venerable to all, as well as to wild beasts and irrational animals, on whom he lays hands—O divine justice!—a man upon his mother, and a mother now aged, and a son strikes his mother on the cheek, rendering a fine reward for her nursing, or rather, as you would more willingly say, he who is in greater measure worthy to be repaid, that he brought such a bad thing into the light. But she, falling at the feet of the saints, said: "Save my old age," she said with many tears. "For I, as I see, have borne Satan himself."

XXI. But he, despising and rejecting her, looking at the martyrs, said: "Your mother, he says, makes your perseverance in evil more extensive; for she prepares the furnace to be stoked for us all the more." They said: "Your mother, on the contrary, is here for your benefit. Why do you have heart? We have enough experience." The tyrant said: "What do I care about her? If, he says, your wickedness is remitted, I will inflict the penalty on her herself." "But if she prayed for her son," she said, "my gods will forgive me." She immediately, lifting her eyes to the heights, said: "Only-begotten Christ, remit not my sin, either in this age or the future." He, however, again unrighteous, said: "Long, he says, as it seems, and the many years of old age have changed and corrupted your mind; and therefore you are easily led to pray evil things for us." To this the wise old woman said: "But I, she says, who bore you, if you are mindless, whence could you have derived your mind?" The tyrant said: "You have strayed from the way that befits you, in that you bear such an insult to your own face." And she: "I call you to witness, she says, that as the see-all eye of God, and His righteous judgment you shall not escape." XXII. Thus he...

having answered, a speechlessness seized the wicked one. With difficulty and at last, he said to the bystanders: "Take away these impious ones, and let them be cast into the burning furnace, since they contend not to obey our commands; but as for her who has disowned me as her mother, and has set aside the laws of nature, leave her to walk after her own will." But the blessed one: "I swear by God," she says, "that I will die together with this trinity of martyrs, and neither by death nor by any other thing shall I ever be separated from them." The tyrant, that evil fruit of good earth, beyond expectation said: "This matter, he says, is not a great care to me: do as you wish." When, therefore, the martyrs had approached the furnace, lifting their eyes to heaven, they said: "Lord Jesus Christ, the true Light, which before the ages shone forth from the paternal glory, we give You thanks that You have strengthened us to endure the contest for You, and did not permit us to be caught in the snare of the hunters, but as a sparrow You have delivered our soul from it. And now, Master, strengthen our resolve, that we may be able to bear with courage the impending fire. Stand by us in the time of the departure from this lowly body, and preside over our souls. For, having trusted in You and in Your power, we ascend into the flame." ^C XXIII. When, therefore, the soldiers had come near to the mouth of the furnace, and were not able to endure its unbearable heat, the saints, seeing them trembling, said: "Why do you stand thus, not doing what was commanded? If this fire, which is a fellow-servant and is only for a time, has seemed so fearful to you, how will you endure that unceasing and truly unendurable fire of Gehenna?" But they said: "And how would it be possible for us, they said, to escape the punishment of which you speak?" "If you do not renounce the worship of idols," said the saints, "and believe with truth in Christ the true God, you will not be able to escape those torments." To this the soldiers: "When," they said, "serving the command of the king, we were inflicting tortures upon you, we were tremulous and fearful, expecting that we ourselves were about to suffer something grievous. Now, however, having obtained the teaching and admonition from you, we have become calm in our souls, as is fitting, expecting a certain hope of salvation. But do you, having done to us what is necessary, and what your faith desires, bring us to the eternal King; for this one, into whom destruction falls, we have already abhorred." ^D The martyrs, being filled with joy at these things, "Let us praise the Lord in unison," they said, "because He is good, and our praise is sweet to Him, who builds up the souls of those who approach Him in faith, and in His own salvation fills the heavenly ones with joy. Do You receive, Master, those whom at the eleventh hour You have called to the vineyard of Your martyrdom, and count them worthy of the reward of Your goodness, reckoning them among Your former prize-bearers."

XXIV. The soldiers, therefore, as if protected by certain ^A impregnable arms, the seal of Christ, having signed themselves, together with the saints Acindynus, Pegasius, and Anempodistus, entered the furnace, being twenty-eight in number, not even the mother of the tyrant being left behind, but even she having entered together with them. And a choir of angels ^B was seen about the furnace receiving the holy ones, and singing a hymn with them. But the martyrs, having commended their holy souls to God through the fire on the second day of the month of November, filled the place with an ineffable fragrance, so that the Christians who were present there felt a pleasure ^C which cannot be described, and praised Him who in very deed fulfills what the divine David says, and shows Himself wonderful in His saints. Their sacred and precious relics were deposited in a place which is called Irenessus, from which grace flows to those who approach unto the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom belongs majesty and praise with His Father who is without beginning, and the life-giving Spirit, now and always, and for ever and ever. Amen.

THE LIFE, CONDUCT, AND CONTESTS OF OUR HOLY FATHER JOANNICIUS

I. ^D That the way which leads to virtue is rough, arduous, and difficult, all know, and learn clearly by experience itself. And therefore they also have need of many things to excite it—partly, indeed, by exhortations, and partly also by the history of the lives of those who have entered upon it before, which also draws one to it more easily without trouble, and prevents one from losing heart on account of the difficulty of the journey. For to one who is about to enter upon an arduous and difficult way, if someone should persuade and exhort him, he might perhaps persuade him less; but by showing him many who have already traversed it, and then at the end have closed their course well, thus he will more persuade him to set out on the journey with a ready and eager mind. Such I consider to be the life of the great Father Joannicius, very pleasant indeed, and very useful, and able sufficiently and

to rouse even the most slothful to the pursuit of virtue. Let the details of his life, therefore, be recounted as far as possible, and let them be set before you, O pious and religious ones, regarding where they had their beginning and to what end they ultimately arrived. It is thus.

^B II. In the fourteenth year of the tyranny of Leo, son of Constantine—who also traced the line of his race from the Isaurians—the admirable Joannicius comes forth from the maternal womb. His native land was indeed the province of the Bithynians; the village, however, called Marycatum, situated towards the northern part of Apollonias; his parents—who by their deeds rendered their names true—were Myritzicius and Anastaso. For they were about to produce, as a lovely rose, the righteous Joannicius for piety, who, from life to life, according to the divine Apostle, was calling many with the ointment of piety, and was causing them to rise from the fall of sin, and was showing the way of salvation, as the account will manifest. For straightway from his earliest years, being nourished and trained with sensible food like a child, he did not choose this current and worldly wisdom, but that which leads and renders one familiar to God, which also is the beginning of wisdom, namely the fear of God, and to follow in the footprints of His commandments. Therefore, he was advancing in virtue and divine discipline with every passing day, and he was making truly good progress. And what of the Lord, who is quick to reward the good? The great Joannicius had not yet passed his earliest years, and while he was assigned by his parents to perform the service of tending the usual flocks, he would mark the pigs with the sign of the cross, and he himself would render his customary prayers to God; and they would remain inseparable, safe from any harm of men or beasts, until ^C the saint, having returned in the evening, would again drive them home.

III. But when he had passed the stage of boyhood, and as he was not unseemly in body, and in his appearance looked like a man of noble character—and a selection of soldiers for accurate service was made by the command of the one who at that time held power—at that time indeed this admirable man was enrolled in the order of the Excubitors. He was, therefore, pleasing to the army for his gentleness, but terrible to the enemy for his bravery, for he would put many of them to flight by his mere presence. Thus, as he was, and since he was held in such high regard by the army, he existed in even greater esteem before God, ^D in that he was a most accurate keeper of His commandments. The evil one, therefore, seeing these things, and envying him not only for his other virtues but indeed also for his inclination and familiar communion with the Divine, lay in wait from the beginning and set ambushes against the man. Whence, having once cast a common mist upon men, so that they might not render the fitting honor to the divine images, he reached as far as Joannicius, and he seizes this man, so beautiful among ascetics, and towards the deadly heresy of the Iconoclasts

^A From that time on, the many not only failed to pay the divine images the honor that was fitting, but they would not even admit the hearing of this into their ears at all. For five and fifty full years, the image of Christ’s incarnation was slandered and dishonored by the Iconoclasts. This wondrous man was also carried away by this and became one of the captured, with few indeed escaping the snare of the evil one. Such was the state of affairs, and the character of Christ among us was—alas—neglected, and considered as nothing at all.

IV. But when the workers of this wickedness perished miserably in their impiety, and the Roman empire passed to Leo’s spouse, Irene, who cherished the things of the Christians and held them in honor—even if, due to fear of her husband, she could not freely profess the true religion while he was still alive—as soon as she was established in the empire, then Christ himself, who for our sake put on our flesh, was again honored in his images, and the beloved likenesses of the saints were seen in great numbers in the churches and the public squares. ^B Yet not even then did the many wash the bitterness of such an Iconoclast heresy from their souls; but having habituated themselves to the evil through the long duration of time, they were loath to be parted from it. One of these was this illustrious Joannicius, who was not quick to change, nor easy, nor was he one to be tossed or carried about by every wind, but, showing a gravity of character—even if for a cause that was not praiseworthy—he remained constant in what he thought to be right, and he rendered no honor whatsoever to the divine images. Then what happens? He is hunted by the good Farmer, who knows the soil of each person’s soul, and he receives the seeds of the orthodox faith. And in what manner?

V. ^C He is sent by the Emperor with the whole army to the West; returning thence, he passed through some parts of Olympus, and by divine guidance he traveled near one of the monks who were practicing asceticism on that mountain. Then, the monk appeared from the woods and said: “O child, Joannicius, if it is a great thing for you to be and to be called a Christian, why, by despising the image of Christ, do you bring it about that your labor in virtue is undertaken in vain?” The divine man heard this, and he marveled at how he had spoken to him about everything with such clear discernment. Falling to the ground, he asked for pardon for what he, in his ignorance, had committed against Christ, and he pledged to honor the image of Christ and of all those who have pleased Him with all his heart for the future. From that time on, the blessed man, while performing his duties as a guard in the courtyards of the palace, would recline on the bare ground, and he applied himself to lying on the floor, to prayer, and to fasting. For even if he would dine with his companions, still he would not consume food to the point of satiety, but only enough so that he did not seem to them to be fasting; however, his body remained...

^A sustained, and capable of serving him for that all-night vigil.

VI. When he had been occupied with these things for six full years, the Bulgar nation emerged, plundering Thrace. The one who then held power over the Romans marched against them, having gathered a large and martial force, among whom this youth, so accomplished in piety, was also numbered. A great battle broke out between them, and the ranks of the Romans were falling in great numbers. What then of that great man among warriors, and greater among ascetics, Joannicius? He was like another David, breaking through the alien forces with many thousands, and delivering many ^B of his own kin, so that when a certain distinguished Roman was captured by the Bulgars by means of a thong-like snare, he cut it with his sword and rescued the man from the hostile hand. When the Emperor himself saw these things, and was struck by the nobility of the man, he sought to learn his homeland and the name he bore. He also instructed him in the order of military service. And the Emperor immediately ordered all things to be committed to writing by a scribe, so that they might not slip from his memory, and with the generosity of his rewards, he strengthened the weary hand of this excellent soldier. ^C Incited all the more by this, when he saw one of the enemies standing upon a narrow path and slaying many Romans, this nobleman charged him, and deprived of his head the man who had deprived many others of theirs. Thus, these feats of arms against visible enemies were to him a symbol of the victories he would later win against those that are unseen.

VII. And observe how he was guided from this point toward their conflict, and already began the struggle, ^D and well armed his martial mind with abstinence from food and with prayer. For when he had slowly and little by little withdrawn from the battle against these visible enemies, and had finally entered into himself, he turned his mind to the deeds he had bravely performed against the enemy by the power of God, and he regretted as a bitter loss the time past, during which the image of Christ was not held by him in honor, and he pierced his soul with the arrows of repentance, and spoke to himself in this manner: "It behooved me to serve such a Master, and not only to arm myself against these visible enemies, but also against those who do not fall under sight." This, indeed, I most of all set as my aim in prayer: that a time might be granted to me in which it would be possible for me to subject the flesh to the spirit, and to attend solely to God. Hence, he gave himself entirely to his accustomed prayer, and when he saw the mountain that looms to the right of Bithynia, which is called Olympus among us, ^A he conceived in his mind the quiet and solitude-loving life.

VIII. Having therefore arrived in the imperial city, and having bidden farewell to the oratories in it, and to the remaining...

^A rites of his departure, he disregards being ranked among the emperor's nobles; he disregards attaining the greatest honors and being esteemed above the many; he despises paternal affection, he sets maternal feelings in the second rank; and having been with his parents but a little while, he rushed toward the quiet which he loved and which was truly a fitting companion for him, having spent only twenty-four years in this lower and worldly service. Upon his journey, however, when he had arrived at the monastery of the Agauri, he is received by the monks who were there; and to Father Gregory, the superior of the monastery, he reveals his own mind—namely, that he seeks a life of quiet, and that he wishes to live alone under God, avoiding all human consolation. He indeed praises the intention, but said that these things are fitting for those who have ^B labored longer in asceticism and have somehow reached its habit. "But I would advise you not to choose first that life which is removed from all human society, but to join yourself first to pious men and monks, and to learn the time and order of prayer; then to be taught obedience and the moderation of the mind, and so to approach the anachoretic way of life, lest, if you rush to it without being taught, instead of striking, you be struck, and instead of winning, you be miserably defeated."

IX. When he had heard these admonitions, he departed from that place; but when evening came, he was welcomed as a guest by a certain pious and religious man—one who was well accustomed to such habitations, and who took care ^C never to lodge in the house of anyone who held a view contrary to the true faith. To him he also disclosed his intention; and since he was still altogether ignorant of letters, he is led by this man to a certain neighboring monastery which was called Utoleias. When he had learned there only the instruction of the elements, and had understood that this monastery was full of tumult, he went up to another monastery, which is called after Antidius, and when he had declared his purpose to its superior, he is taught by him what kind of wrestling-ground the divine contests are—namely, to suppress thoughts, and every height that is raised against the ^D knowledge of God. When he had persevered in that place for two years, and had learned thirty of the hymns of the God-father David, and had shown their handles to be sufficiently strong against every assault of the adversary, a little later a desire came upon him to pass over to the mountain that towered above. For seven whole days, therefore, devoting himself to prayer, he sought that a certain guide should appear to him for the path he desired. On the seventh day, this new Moses of our time hears a voice from above, commanding him to approach the mountain a little, and to obtain that which he desires.

X. When he had heard this voice, he proceeded to the mountain, and looked about on all sides to see what place he might find suitable for his own habitation. Ascending, therefore, upon the mountain, he fell in with two monks, whose tunics were made of hair, and their way of life...

^A was such that they could only just sustain themselves, and lived on earth as angels in the body. He therefore communicated to them those things which he revolved in his mind and meditated upon. They, however, after having offered the customary prayers to God on his behalf, answered him one by one regarding the things he asked, adding that after the fiftieth year of his asceticism, and toward the very end of his life, a trial would be brought upon him; and that those who would bring it would be envious and wicked men. But upon them, they said, the evil will return onto their own heads; you, however, will suffer no harm. Which indeed later came to pass in reality, as the discourse will show in its own time. Having foretold these things, they entrusted to the man a tunic (the local tongue knows how to call it a *lebetonarium*, and its composition is of hair) and departed; this was for him against every stratagem, an invincible and most powerful weapon, as he himself later related. Afterwards, having departed from that place to the mountain—which is called Trichalix—he passed his life both in the open air and without a dwelling ^B.

XI. But as Gregory, of whom the discourse has spoken previously, had erected an impromptu dwelling for the saint, a small shelter against rain and snow, he shut himself up in it. But since many arrived there desiring to meet him, and were interrupting that silence which was dear and familiar to him, he departed from there and settled himself in a certain village of the Hellespont, upon a wooded mountain difficult of access; in which, having dug a certain narrow and deep hole under the earth, he remained in it, not going anywhere, not having a raven as his purveyor of food, like Elias, but entrusting this to a certain goatherd, that he might in turn receive greater things from him; from which shepherd indeed he received bread and water each month as a truly novel banquet. For three whole years, therefore, passing his time silently in it, he concerned himself with prayer, and with hymns to God, by night and by day. This was his work, and his food, and his consolation; and these words he had, like some seasoning, ^C perpetually upon his tongue, softly sung: "My hope is God, my refuge is Christ; my shelter is the Holy Spirit." For which cause it is possible to see many who, having received this from him, carry this beautiful saying in their mouths at all times.

XII. Exercising himself thus, and being exalted by such ascensions of the heart, as he desired at some time to arrive at a certain house of prayer ^D among those that were there, in which many others of the surrounding districts were gathering, it happened that one of those who had formerly campaigned with him also arrived, and having seen this great man among the ascetics, not supposing him to be the same, he immediately came into the remembrance of his old companion and familiar friend Joannicius, comparing the characteristic of his countenance and the magnitude of his stature to him, even though that long famine and the voluntary confinement in the pit had worn away most of the marks of the man; he stood therefore

more perfectly recalling the man to his memory, and he seemed to him more and more to be that very one. When, therefore, he fixed a more curious gaze upon him, he recognized in truth that this was he, the dearest to him of his companions, Joannicius; he immediately threw his arms around his neck, embraced him, and hugged him warmly; he was clearly dependent upon the man's soul, shed a tear of joy over him, and reminded him of their former intimacy. Then he ran off, wishing to announce the matter to the rest of the companions; but Joannicius, desiring rather to remain hidden, withdrew into the wild mountains of Conturia, to live in solitude with God. ^C

XIII. It chanced, however, that he came to a house of prayer, where he fell in with a man and a woman who had gathered there out of necessity to perform a traditional feast. When they saw the holy man, they were struck dumb at the very first sight by his unaccustomed and formidable appearance; they could not even ask who he was, nor, in truth, could they manage to address a single word to him. For the man was of a sufficiently tall stature, yet he was covered in rags, walked barefoot, and was entirely covered in hair, with his locks hanging down in a very wild fashion. When they saw the holy man in such a state, they were filled with fear. But he, with a gentle and mild voice, bade them be of good cheer, and by this means he revived and comforted them from their fear. He then asked them which road led straight ahead. They replied that a river flowed in front of him, which was not easy to cross, especially at that time, since so many rains had flowed down into it—for it happened that at that hour it had rained heavily, and consequently the river had flooded. They said these things; but he, having risen toward midnight (O beautiful feet! O that wonderful journey!), stepped onto the water without getting wet and crossed to the opposite shore. ^D

XIV. From there he came to Ephesus, to the church of the disciple beloved by the Master Christ, and the doors of that temple opened for him of their own accord. Having gone inside, and after offering his prayers to the Lord, he went out again; and after his departure, the doors immediately closed. He then turned back to Conturia and encountered certain monastics—a mother, I say, with her daughter. The daughter, indeed, was already exhausted by lust, but the mother was striving, through admonitions, to restrain the movements of her flesh. When the holy man came upon them, and moved in his soul at the suffering of the girl, he called the maiden to him and prompted her to place her hand upon his neck. When this was done as he had ordered, he prayed that the maiden might be freed from the evil that was vexing her, and that this grave evil might fall upon himself. And so she, delivered from the war of the flesh, restored herself to the order of the monastics as before; but in the holy man that grave war was stirred up. When, therefore, he understood that wicked thoughts were pushing him toward dishonorable acts, he found a certain dragon among the serpents in a certain

^A cave that was there, and immediately offered himself to be devoured by it, or as forcing his own body, if he were unwilling, to touch it. For he chose to die rather than to have the nobility of his soul enslaved to the desires of the flesh. He, therefore, offered himself to the dragon; but evil thoughts—those seeds of the intelligible dragon that falls into the mind—immediately departed from him; and whatever desire of the flesh had been troubling him, this also, as it were, withered and died. And the beast itself also immediately perished, and from that time, power over every kind of beast, both visible and invisible, was granted to the combatant.

^B XV. For sometimes, as he was reciting the psalms of David from memory, a certain heap of stones would be moved, and it drew the holy man’s eyes toward it. Seeing, therefore, a certain immense serpent of a deep red color appearing from it, he struck it with the rod he had in his hand, and rendered it breathless, showing it dead from that stroke. Then, again, in the winter season, he went into a certain underground and dark cave; but a dragon dwelt in it, as if using the cave for its den. The eyes of the dragon were shining, and to this blessed Father, it seemed that he was looking at fire; for he would never have believed, before the experience, that a dragon was in the cave. Thinking, therefore, that fire was kindled in the cave, he gathered wood and placed it before the eyes of the dragon, wishing to kindle it on account of the winter season. But when the beast had shaken off the things that had been placed there, the Father, realizing that it was a beast, did not feel cowardly or dejected, nor was he affected by any fear, but, declining ^C a little to the right of the cave, he dwelt together with the dragon, suffering no harm.

XVI. Now the twelfth year was already being completed since the man of God had been staying in the desert; and a prediction came to him from above to depart from there, and to dwell in the monastery called Eriste, and to assume the habit of the monks. For although he was of such virtue, he had not yet put on the garment of the monks, but the things that have been related were still the preliminary exercises for the great contests of the monastic habit. In the summer, therefore, he reached the aforementioned monastery and revealed the revelation to Stephen, the superior of the monks who were there. And he, on the following day, without any delay, poured out his usual prayers and said the sacred orations, and clothed him in the monastic garment. Having thus put on such a habit of those who live as monks, being a monk even before the habit, or ^D even above monks, as one might say, stripping himself from contests for contests, and advancing from labors to labors, he shut himself up in a place called Critama, and bound himself with a chain that was six cubits in length.

XVII. Now it was the third year since he had been living in this place, and it seemed good to him to go to the place called Chelido

^Ane, so that he might meet a man eminent for his virtue (this great man was George). When he reached the river Goras, he encountered a dragon that was holding back the flow of the river and blocking the crossing for him. By prayer and the sign of the cross, he immediately consigned it dead to the waters. Having spent three full years with the great George, and having learned the entire Psalter from him, he departed again to the shepherd of Antidius along with the disciple Pachomius. From there, having come again to the monastery of the Agaurians, he ascended with other monks to a mountain situated nearby, so that they might be spectators of the house that was to be built upon it. For a certain dwelling was being constructed on that mountain for the brothers in the monastery, providing for those who desired it greater quiet and silence, and a more perfect union with God^B. When they had already reached the mountain, a goat of extraordinary size suddenly appeared from the herd. The monks who were with this blessed Father, upon seeing the goat, were seized by certain human thoughts and pondered in their minds how they might capture it, valuing highly the prospect of turning its skin into a wineskin. The Father, knowing through the Spirit dwelling in him the thoughts that were in the minds of the monks, called one of them named Sabas to him and commanded him to bring the goat to him. When he asked how he could catch it if it turned to flight, the great man said, "Go only, brother; it will come willingly and follow you." Turning then to the other monks, he asked if the goat's skin was suitable for making a wineskin. They replied, "Very much so; even before you mentioned it, we ourselves were thinking of this." Meanwhile, the goat was led by the monk Sabas; and the Father, showing kindness even to brute animals, sent the beast back again to its own pasture, teaching thereby not only compassion, but also the excision of one's own desires^C.

XVIII. While dwelling on this mountain, he also foretold to those who were related by blood to the emperor (Nicephorus was then administering the Roman empire) that his death would come a short time later. In the ninth year of his reign, the Huns broke out and ravaged Thrace. The ruler, having gathered a sufficiently large army, first defeated them; but afterwards, the Huns gathered again in bands and did great harm to the Romans, at which time the emperor himself was wounded and ended his life along with his rule, leaving his son Stauracius as the heir to his scepter and power. When Stauracius had been established in his rule, those to whom the death of the emperor Nicephorus had been signaled beforehand by the admirable Joannicius, recalling what had been predicted shortly after the emperor had passed away, approached this great Father again and inquired concerning his son Stauracius, whether he would live for a long time in the empire. He predicted again

^A that a swift change would come and, as they say, that things stood on a razor's edge. But a short time passed, and the empire having turned to Michael, the emperor’s son-in-law, the predictions were fulfilled. This Michael held the dignity of ^B Curopalates before the scepter. Not long after, the Huns again made incursions into the plains of Thrace; the emperor was very anxious about how he might attack them with a heavy army and how he might treat them harshly. Meanwhile, he appointed Leo the Armenian as leader ^C of the forces of the East; but he, having for a long time been passionately desirous of the empire, turned this only in his mind—how he might gain possession of it—and he considered everything that did not conduce to this as a side issue.

XIX. When, therefore, war had again broken out with the Huns, the Armenian, not even bearing the first assault, voluntarily gave his back, covering the Romans with shame, ^D so that he might at once bring reproach upon Michael and overwhelm him with grievous despondency. Having thus planned and acted, Leo, by the guile and treachery of his character, endeared the minds of the soldiers to himself; he persuaded them to look only to him and to place their hopes of salvation in him alone—as they were, in this matter, somewhat imprudent and imprudent, and foolishly preferred things expected to the goods they held in their hands. Leo, therefore, putting on the mask of goodwill toward the emperor, pretended to esteem and honor him above all. But after the defeat brought about by him intentionally and voluntarily, when Michael had returned to Byzantium, at that time he bared the labor of his heart, and revealing the lion within, abandoned those who were plundering the Roman fields, and immediately, with all speed, armed himself against his own people; he was proclaimed emperor by those present and occupied the most renowned of cities. Michael, even ^A against his will, yielded the empire to him, having, as he thought, confirmed himself and secured himself firmly with many oaths and safe promises, on the condition that he would allow him to live a private life with his wife and children.

XX. But he, as soon as he ascended to the empire, immediately as if having forgotten everything, and caring nothing for what he had sworn ^B with God as his witness, first condemned Michael and his wife to exile; shortly after, he forced them to assume the monastic habit, even against their will. He did not stop there, but even a few days later he separated them from each other, and did not permit them to remain together in the same region, but banished him to one place and her ^C to another. See, then, to what extent wickedness proceeds when it has seized power! For immediately, that beast, both in name and in character, raging against Christ Himself, woe is me, and His holy image, visited many torments upon the worshipers of piety, alienating them from their possessions and ^D exterminating them in a way that is not of Christ and His

of His saints together with him. So he considered it a grievous thing, and unworthy of his own madness and importunity, if he did not remove the most holy patriarch Nicephorus from his priestly office. Therefore, he did indeed remove from his throne the man who was truly worthy to rule, since darkness could not comport with light. And having introduced Theodotus from Natolia, whose surname was Melissenus, being of the same mind and character as himself, he filled the Church with much abomination.

XXI. At that time, while this great Father was practicing his asceticism among the mountains of Prusa, a certain Gurias, who was himself one of those who had undertaken the anachoretic life and was believed to surpass the others in the contests of monks, was considered and named by all to be a supreme trainer and lover of virtue; and when anyone mentioned Gurias, he would also add "the trainer," as the man was better known by this than by his own name. When he saw that he was far from the true virtue of Joannicius, and that that venerable title of "trainer" was passing to him, his soul was torn and mangled by envy. And while he was pregnant with envy, he gave birth to murder; and how this was, the discourse shall declare. For, revolving such things in his soul and seeking to bring to an effect that which he was meditating, he studiously contrived to live alongside the saint, since the great Joannicius, because of his very great simplicity of soul, had received and cherished Gurias with "open hands," as it is said. ^B He, at the beginning, indeed feigned great piety and was a most excellent actor of virtue. But hoping for no other way to gratify his envy secretly, under the guise of an offering, he reached out poison to the saint, having himself first drunk far more bitterly of the draught of envy and wickedness. The cup of treachery, being thus drunk, afflicted the saint with many pains; but the Lord, who was worshiped through him, did not allow him to be vexed for long, lest vice should glory too much against virtue. But by sending in a dream the illustrious martyr Eustathius, He granted him his former state and health. In honor of what had then been done so admirably and beyond expectation, he built an oratory and a monastery, which indeed stands until this present day. ^C For that sweet sleep and that joyful arrival of the martyr were not for the liberation from pains alone, but for the beginning and foundation of even greater miracles and works.

XXII. For once on a certain night, while he was wishing to necessarily give his body to rest so that he might refresh himself and return to his labors with a fresher and more eager spirit, in a certain place ^D that inclined there toward the East, not in a dream but in reality, he saw water being emitted, abundant and clear, and many blind cattle standing there and drinking from it. And he indeed desired to know what the meaning of the vision was for him; but this he alone learned from

those who dwelt in that region: that in that very place there had formerly been built a temple to the Mother of God. When, therefore, he had come to the place that had appeared to him, he did not find a spring of water; but having seen that it was well situated and beautiful, and otherwise fit for the building of a house of the Lord, he raised up a very beautiful temple there and established a monastery. Not a few people cut their hair there and prepared themselves with a prompt and eager spirit for the spiritual struggle, and were trained in virtue under him. Nor, indeed, did the vision deceive the holy man; for it did not reveal what had already happened, but what was to come to pass. For that in the place which appeared there had been a dwelling-place of the Mother of our Lord was testified to by many who had seen this with their own eyes. The sheep and the gushing water denoted, the former, the holy ones who were attendant upon the temple, and the latter, that most sweet stream of the man’s teaching; and the fact that these were blind indicated the blindness of their souls. ^B

XXIII. While the dwelling-place of God was being raised, a rainstorm suddenly broke out, and serpents issued from the earth and hindered those working on it with their bites. But he immediately lifted his hands to heaven, praying to God; and the thickness of the clouds changed into perfect clear sky, and those who were intent upon the work remained unharmed by the injury of the bites. At which time, as the holy man was also according to his strength helping those who were building, and was reaching out his hand to lift a stone, a viper emerged from the stone and, seizing his hand, hung from it for a long time and injected into it the whole bitterness of its venom. But another Paul appeared to us, if not the first of the choir of the apostles, yet endowed with the same gifts as he. For he shook off his hand, and that bitter viper fell to the ground, and his hand was unharmed, so that it was not even apparent whether he had been bitten at all. ^C But his intense zeal and application did not stop at the building of the houses of prayer; he also brought help to those who were building, and after the construction he kept the buildings he had erected completely unharmed by his prayers, having his eyes always toward the Lord, who is the strength and fortress of those who fear him, “delivering their feet from the snare,” and not “delivering them into the hands of those who afflict them,” nor putting to shame those who wait upon Him, as indeed one may see in the present instance set forth for our narrative. ^D For He led him out into such a breadth of relief, and so lightened him of the burden of the body, that at a certain time of his prayer in the holy temple, while he was altogether stretching his mind toward a higher contemplation, he was seen to be lifted up and suspended, not even touching the ground at all, as if he were being called toward that celestial conversation which he desired.

^A XXIV. For a certain man named Eustratius, who followed the same life as the blessed one, was possessed of great zeal for him, and was stirred toward imitation, and he considered it worth everything to see the things which were done by the saint. Having followed him, therefore, on a certain occasion as he was about to offer his customary prayers to the Lord, he hid himself as well as he could so that he might not be seen by him. And having stayed there for the entire time of the prayer, he was struck with amazement at how ardently and vehemently he was intent upon prayer; he was amazed, too, at the divine things made manifest in him, and at how he was seen by him to be lifted up and detached from earthly things, not in spirit only, but also in body. When the blessed one learned of this, so far was he from praising the man for it, that he supposed he had done something meddlesome, and he rebuked him severely, saying: "The malignant shall not dwell near you." So carefully did he strive to call upon the Lord in private. What, then, were the subsequent noble deeds of the man, and to what does the discourse now proceed?

^B XXV. Since a certain woman had been surrounded by many demons who were inciting her toward base desires, and since she did not know in what way to avoid the danger, she fled to Joannicius, who was ready and prepared to defend her. She announced to him the snares of the demons and employed him as a helper against the adversaries. He prayed to the Lord that the woman might no longer be disturbed by demons, but that the war might be transferred to himself, and that she might be delivered from the agitation of soul. For he was confident that he could endure their assault, since he had hands trained for war and arms adapted to a bow of bronze. ^C He, therefore, immediately transfixed the demons with his prayers as if with arrows, for they could not withstand even his first assault. The woman was delivered from the agitation of soul and, having returned home, ascribed her salvation to the God of all and to His servant Joannicius.

XXVI. What, then, of those daring and wicked demons, who attempt all things? They did not deem it enough to have been once put to shame, nor did it suffice for them to have been defeated once; but, abandoning the snares they had constructed against the woman, they assailed the saint, and tried to bring against him, ^D through base thoughts, those same things which they had fabricated against her. But since he had learned from the beginning to rule over such things, not to serve them, being as he was fortified on all sides with the armor of youthful struggles, he defeated them again in turn and brought their contrivances to nothing. And not here alone, nor only on account of those things which we have mentioned earlier, does he struggle against the malignant race of demons; but even a boy, who was once being led astray and dragged off by them in the dead of night into wooded and trackless mountains, and was on the point of being pushed over a precipice by them, was delivered from their snare by the appearance of the saint—for he was terrible to them even by his mere appearance—and he led him out onto the straight path.

^A

XXVII. When, therefore, he was thus carrying on his asceticism, and so easily overthrowing the enemies that are grasped by the intellect, he was on everyone's lips: one would recount the man's ascetic and laborious life; another, his simplicity, the solidity of his speech, and its great usefulness; and his gravity and constancy in his exercise; while others would report the power he possessed over the demons. For he effected many things by his words, and was powerful in his prayers. Since things were thus, and such a report concerning him was abroad, he had many who would come there and interrupt his exercise; for God had placed him for the acquisition of salvation, as the great Apostle says, so that he might live, watch, and sleep in Him. On this account, he would sometimes free the neighbors from the harm of serpents and wild beasts, killing and removing them, partly by his own staff, and partly by the sign of the cross; at other times, he would free those who encountered him from the plots and tyranny of the demons, having received, by the will of God, the power to act in concert with his own purpose. Having learned, therefore, that the trouble in the deserts differs little or nothing from the tumults of the cities, he diligently pursued what is good according to his teacher, and again migrated to the mountain of Trichalix, training himself even more ardently and vigorously, and becoming, as it were, a more zealous man than he had been before in his spiritual struggles.

XXVIII. Let no one, hearing these things about this great [man] among ascetics, come to so vain a thought as that it is not credible that he should have shone forth so everywhere, because he had previously conceived in his soul impiety regarding the ^B holy icons, and had for a time not wished to honor them. If anyone be struck by this as something paradoxical, he might then deem the miracles and greatness of the fishermen of the world to be a myth, and before all others, that of Paul, who was previously a persecutor of the Church. And it will seem that the saying of the Lord was uttered for his sake: "He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also." Where, moreover, will you place that other saying: "If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence, and it shall remove"? If these, therefore, are evident and certain truth, then the things brought to pass by this admirable man are entirely free from falsehood. But let us return to where we digressed. When he had come to the mountain of Trichalix, he did not stretch out a tent, nor did he set up a hut, but he chose a life in the open and without a house, using the sky as if it were a glorious roof. Yet, even living thus, he did not remain hidden, but a certain Eustratius from the monastery of the Agauri, ^C captivated by love for the man, since he could not remain in the country (for that divine love, and the fact that his zeal for the holy icons greatly inflamed him, compelled him), when he had come to him, and had waited for nothing more than the customary prayer, he at once asked about the affairs of the tyrant Leo, and whether they would last for a very long time. ^D

^A Observing that he was deeply moved in spirit—for this Leo was a man impious in these matters, if ever there was one—and that he had hastened the questioning for this reason, he did not delay, nor did he deliberate about a reply. Rather, as one who searches the depths of the Spirit, he signified that his destruction would not be long in coming, and he foretold what was to happen. For not long after, Michael removed him and took away his power. He did not increase the persecution against the Christians, but he did allow the Church to remain under the heretics, in that he did not fully join the heresy of the Iconoclasts, yet became more relaxed regarding the zeal for it, so that he might appear to the many as a man of philanthropy. He neither initiated any orthodox dogma, nor did he hold fast to salvation; rather, he deliberately allowed the heresy to grow and the orthodox faith to diminish and flow away. And this is how that matter stood.

XXIX. After Leo had been killed, Eustratius came again with another man, reporting to this divine man the outcome of those things he had foretold. They spent some time together in discourse; and a certain man named Elias, who was practicing asceticism not far from the saint, received the great Joannicius and those who had come with Eustratius with a feast. But the divine Joannicius, ^B accusing the vanity of this life and showing by his words how unstable and treacherous it is, exhorted them in common to remove themselves from cities and villages. He said that this was more fitting for Elias than for the others. But he said, "As for this, Father Joannicius, take heart." And to provide greater assurance of this, he said that throughout all the past years he had been a solitary and had removed himself from the association of men. One day and another had passed since these things were said to the saint. That monk, Elias, came to him and asked for his prayers, so that because of a sickness that had attacked him, he might go to a certain estate that produced hot springs. ^C When the saint did not wish it, but he insisted—and finally, yielding to the weakness of the brother, the saint sent him off—he was scarcely able to reach the hot springs. When his spirit failed him and he had been picked up by those who happened to be there, he was laid in one of the cells by the mountain; around midnight he departed from this life, having as the only grace from the previous goods of his asceticism that in this final thought he was led to repentance, because he had altogether yielded to the healing of the body. But we must return again to the great Joannicius.

XXX. This divine head was accustomed to travel with a staff, ^D although he had more need of speech than of a staff for his flock. So when he was once traveling through some places difficult to pass, it happened that it fell from his hand, and he was distressed at the loss of the staff and at his own helplessness.

^A Then, despairing of finding it, he bent his knees and offered his accustomed prayers to the Lord. It returned through the air and was placed into the hand of the holy man: and he immediately entered a certain bushy cave, having seized it as a dwelling pleasing to himself. But it was very small and was inhabited by demons, who, when they saw the saint strengthened by a certain invisible power, and—as Paul says—glorifying in the evil day with the breastplate of justice and the shield of faith, became inflamed with all fury, and having themselves suffered something from him, they repay like with like. When, however, they had been strongly repulsed by all their hidden assaults—the man being fortified by prayers—they finally abandoned the machinations against his soul and attacked openly: they laughed, shouted, struck, fled, expecting that they would bring terror upon him; they roared, they attacked his face, they seemed to shake the cave. But since he showed nothing that was of a weak and abject mind, and they, having set in motion all the cables of their own craftiness, finally gave up against the virtue and constancy of such a great man, they were miserably defeated and turned to flight. "What is there between us and you? Have you come to torment us before the time?" they too shouted at him, just as those who did not endure the arrival of my Jesus were shouting. ^B When they had left the cave, even against their will, they could not find any other place to dwell. For everywhere they apprehended by vision the saint being present, pursuing and putting them to flight and reproaching them, just like some wild beasts of the thicket. Thus, running without iniquity, he was directed, and being roused to encounter his enemies, he found God going before him, surrounding him with mercy, but evilly destroying the evil ones. And to what a great crowd and molestation the flight of the demons delivered those who were in the mountain, in which it pleased God to dwell, as the Psalmist says, we leave the writing of that benefit to others; we shall turn to the things that follow.

^C XXXI. One of the senators had a daughter who was ill, and her limbs were paralyzed, though she was pious and practiced the Christian religion. But the man who had married the sister of the saint raged grievously against the images of Christ and railed against them. The blessed one, therefore, arriving, released her from the grave illness by prayer and the sign of the cross; but him, since he could not persuade him when admonishing him to abstain from that grave insanity, he delivered to discipline, and, despising the kinship of his bowels and forgetful of his own blood for the sake of the true religion, he blinded his eyes by prayer. Thus the zeal of piety and the worship of the true God glories even against nature itself; and true desire for God is stronger than the necessity of kinship. For the former, even if she was not related to him by birth, yet because she ^D

did not pertain to him, yet because he observed the Christian religion, he delivered him from the disease; but this other man, although he had married his own sister, because he fought against the divine images, he deprived of sight, and judged it just that the eyes which were manifest should be punished for those which were not perceived by the eyes. To this it is fitting to add the following.

^A XXXII. It was the habitual care of this great Father, if he heard that any were ascending to him, to descend from the mountain and go to meet them. Why did he do this? To cut short the great distress in the ascent for those who were ascending to him. For the ascent to the mountain is rough and steep, and does not provide an easy or convenient path for those climbing it. Once, therefore, the one who held the bishopric of Chalcedon and the one of Nicaea, Peter, and Theodore, prefect of the illustrious flock of the Studium, together with Joseph and Clement, were making the ascent to him. When the saint learned of this, wishing to relieve them of the great hardship of the journey, he descended from the mountain to them. And since it was the part of this man of God to do and say things that were pleasing to God, in the conversation he had with them, he judged humility to be preferred above all virtues. But when they had already come to take food: "Do not be troubled," he said to brother Joseph, "but be prepared for departure." This, said at that time, was a source of questioning among those who heard it as to what it could mean. But when after eighteen days Joseph had departed from life, they understood accurately what it was that the great man had meant. Thus then did this divine Father conduct himself, and he bore such great concern for the benefit of his brothers, that all things seemed small and of no value to him, unless he might even lay down his own soul for his brothers: in this also imitating my Lord, who, being a shepherd and not a hireling, laid down his ^B soul for his sheep (John X, 15).

XXXIII. Now the fifth year of the reign of Michael was being spent; and it was the fourteenth from the time the Bulgarians had made their expedition and Nicephorus had departed; from which time many of the Romans, having lost their ancestral liberty, were held captive by the hands of the Bulgarians. It came, therefore, into the mind of that benign and clement soul, if he might by any means be able to lead them out from that laborious and afflicted life. ^C Upon inquiring, he learned that the prison into which they had been cast was dark and gloomy, so that it came about that they bore it with difficulty, in that they had not also lost their lives along with their country; which indeed afflicted him all the more. Having therefore set all things aside for this purpose, he abandoned that pleasant and customary way of life; and as for the path which lay between, he finished it, not caring for the guards who encompassed them; but approaching them unseen, he immediately used the sign of the cross for all his forces, and by it, having broken the chains and the barriers of the gates, as if from the netherworld and the shadow of death, just as my Jesus

^A recalls those who were sitting there, and gives them to drink, not with waters, but with the life-giving streams of the doctrine of salvation, admonishing them not to be like their fathers, a perverse and exasperating generation, but henceforth to place their hope in God, and not to forget His rewards; moreover, to make known His mysteries even to their children. Then in the light, as Moses did, he led them through the night, escorting and preserving them until they reached our own borders. Being thus importuned by those who had been saved, and being often asked, "Who are you, O man of God?" he did not conceal his name, but said that he ascribed this grace to God alone.

XXXIV. I do not know whether this should be compared to what happened to those who fled from Egypt. For the sea engulfed the enemies of the former; but the latter attained what they desired to attain, and were a cause of calamity to no one, but they returned home, and that quiet and peace-loving manner of life on Mount Trichalix received the saint back once more. At that time, ^B that Inger was flourishing in his ascetic labors just as if in vernal flowers. Hence it came about that he was declared bishop of the Church of Nicaea. But he did not have the fruit of the right faith. The Father, having foreseen his death, sent to him a certain monk from the altars of Elijah—this was Basil—to bid him abandon falsehood and the shadow and to embrace the truth, even though that most foolish Inger chose to die miserably in the wicked heresy of the Iconoclasts.

XXXV. But as my discourse has reached this point, this comes to my mind. The saint once sailed to visit the shrine of Saint Theophanes in Sigriana. Returning from there and sailing past the lake that is to the north of Apollonias, he put in at Thasos. Those who were leading the monastic life in that place, and all the local inhabitants, ^C were being severely afflicted by the multitude of snakes that were on it. For the island was filled with them, bringing no small harm to the residents. Since, therefore, the saint was staying there, all who dwelt on the island came to him, and fell down as suppliants, and asked him to be their helper, and begged him to relieve them, as far as possible, from the harm caused by the snakes. And he took pity on their calamity, and as if launching certain darts against the snakes, he sent forth his prayers. And immediately they crept out of their dens, and leaving the island, threw themselves into the depths of the sea. Our own Jesus ^D indeed crushed the heads of the dragons in the waters; but his disciple, and as far as possible his imitator, caused them to suffocate through those very things.

XXXVI. From this time he moved on to another place of tranquility and silence; and together with him went Daniel, who was in charge of the monks who were on Thasos. He had a brother who was a monk, whose name was Euthymius, to whom it is also said that the Father foretold shortly thereafter his death, thus

^A saying: "Brother Euthymius, be prepared, for shortly you shall set out on the pilgrimage to the Master on high." And he said this to Euthymius. But when he himself wished to enter a certain very small cave, which was scarcely sufficient for habitation, he encountered a demon who was far more wicked than the previous ones; for from him the cave was called Toparcha. And since he could not endure dwelling with Joannicius, the dark and terrifying one approached Daniel, that he might strike terror into him; he himself, however, taking Joannicius with him, might return back again. But they, as though having confidence in themselves, were undaunted, expecting his flight instead. When, therefore, the evil one saw them so strong and constant, he wrapped himself around the feet of Daniel, and having inflicted a blow upon the side of the admirable Joannicius, he brought upon the man such pain—and so much so, that for seven whole days he was speechless—but he himself immediately became invisible. But the mountain of Trichalis receives the holy one back again. ^B

XXXVII. If, however, anything troublesome happened to those on the mountain after the man had departed from there, it was all cleared away again by his visit. And now a caterpillar that was causing damage to the vegetables was driven away from the area by prayer and the sign of the cross; and now, to those who approached that place, their death was made known. And they indeed provided for their own affairs and prepared themselves for their departure; but the evil one and enemy of the human race was, as the saying goes, a wolf gaping in vain. Thus also to a certain man, Isaac, who served a monastic woman, because it had been foretold by the saint that the end of his life would soon come upon him, ^C and it was therefore necessary for him to prepare for his departure, he however lived negligently and slackly, and then he had even ascended again to the man of God himself: "Why," he said, "being still occupied with worldly anxieties, do you take no care for the future?" But he, even though led willingly (for he was very useful in the management of possessions), was moved to none of the things that were necessary, nor did he prepare for himself a final provision. Not long after, however, disease and necessity, which overcame him, caused him to put on the monastic habit, and brought death upon him at once, alas! But while one might attribute the matter regarding Isaac to necessity, not to his own volition, one would indeed ascribe truly paternal affection to this great Father, because he had foretold his death to him, ^D even if he, having changed nothing, died in his former sloth.

XXXVIII. But indeed, from this event also, the works of the righteous man become entirely known; the lady of Isaac, while being a nun, as I have said, and old, and indeed also the superior of the monastery of the Clubioi, once ascended to him together with her daughter for the sake of prayer and blessing. He, however, having taken the staff which the mother was holding in her hand, handed it into the hand of the daughter. The mother of the girl was therefore disturbed and said: "To me, Father, the staff was more fitting, supporting and sustaining my body in great part because of our old age." But he, saying nothing to her—

signified the future by his action. For a little while after, she departed this life, and she ^A in turn assumed the direction of the monastery. From this point on, this wonderful Joannicius moved to a rough and steep mountain, which was called the Mountain of the Crow, as it had been predicted to the holy man by the monks who had met him in the desert and had given him the lebitonarium, that he would some day come to that mountain. But what are the things that were done wonderfully by him, or rather by the Spirit residing in him, on that mountain?

XXXIX. Certain men were grazing sheep there, and having lost some of them, they went around the mountain on every side in search of them. These men the holy man had neither heard of at any time, nor did he know them by sight. But meeting them, he called each one by his name, and asked them to show him the way, which he himself did not know (for the Holy Spirit does not grant the saint to know absolutely everything). And they indeed pointed out the way; but he, in return for the boon of their finding the animals, urged the men to go into the desert, saying they would find the sheep there. ^B When, therefore, they had come to that very place according to his words, they found the wandering animals in a way they had not in the least expected, and this after they had labored much before in searching for them, even though they had not been able to find them then. Thus, they were grateful for the man’s lack of knowledge concerning the way, as it was through this that they were deemed worthy to meet him and engage in speech at all. For those who met him did not see him unless he himself wished it; and so that he might be a model of humility to Eustratius who followed him, he would not be seen by those who encountered him, and turning to him, he would say: "By your prayer, brother Eustratius, I am not seen even by these people." ^C

XL. When he had ascended to the mountains of the Antidion monastery, he who was being elevated daily in divine matters, and had built a cell that was very narrow and very small, he undertook greater labors of virtue than the previous ones and was deemed worthy of greater contemplation. Indeed, he considered the affliction of the body to be food for the soul. Hence it came about that he appeared to many only rarely, in such a way that he also had many who loved his way of life. For it was enough even ^D just to be seen to instill a warm desire in the minds of the beholders, to be a spur to zeal, and to excite to virtue even one who was most sluggish. For instance, the wife of one of the magistroi (I believe this was Stephanus), having had her mind afflicted by the wickedness of her serving-maids and by curious sorcery, surrendered herself to physicians. There were many hands of physicians, untold medicines, and yet more aids of the art. When she learned that she was laboring in vain, she decided to bid farewell to the others, but she fled for refuge to the great Joannicius. He gave the woman health through prayer, but he sought this as a reward from her: her [entrance] into the gates of God.

in confession and hymns, and that she should remit the sin to those who had offended her.

XLI. ^A This man, who was good in every respect—to pass on to another—arrived after a long time to visit a certain man named Stephen, a person who practiced virtue and was righteous in all his ways, and who had long ago dedicated the things of his soul to him. "Be prepared, brother," he said, "for the departure." The man, having considered what might be meant by what was said—since, so far as he was concerned, he was already prepared, having built more diligently upon the foundation of virtue that had preceded—departed shortly thereafter with a ready and joyful spirit, shining forth with innumerable miracles after his passing. Thus, also, he signified to Thomas, who followed him and his labors for virtue, and who surpassed others in humility, that he was to fall unexpectedly into an illness, and that death was to follow upon the disease. ^B By this prediction, this man was at the same time more stimulated in his soul toward asceticism, and at the same time he approached the end of his life. Thus, also, when he knew that the one presiding over the monastery of the Agauri had joined himself to the heretics (for Eustratius had already departed from the headship, as one shunning the way of the impious), he saw that after one or two admonitions he did not desist from his heresy. "Since," he said, "I have often guided you toward the orthodox faith, Antonius (for this was what the man was called), and have found you difficult to call back, I say this to you for the last time: If you no longer persist in sinning by siding with the heterodox, but also endure with gratitude the chastisement that is about to be brought upon you by the Lord, no small reward shall be laid up for you." ^C The righteous man said these things, and immediately the other side of Antonius's body became paralyzed, as if withered, and died. So, for forty whole days, having borne such chastisement with great spirit, and neither having uttered a single word of contempt from his mouth, nor having henceforth given his assent to the heretics, he departed this life, having escaped the arts and machinations of the wicked one, and having carried off the victory against him by means of a small chastisement, being proclaimed a crowned victor. Thus did he extend the philanthropy of God; so truthfully did he guarantee forgiveness to those in whom there was some small spark of repentance; and by the fact that he foretold the bodily death that was coming, he clearly ensured that men would not die the death of the soul. ^D

XLII. But the narrative calls me to other things, and I proceed to these. A certain Constantine, having been made consul, was accustomed to come to this admirable man. And he, in turn, rendered this back to him: that by his prayers he was kept free from anger, and neither was easily moved nor flared up on account of anything that occurred. He was at one time about to go up to the great Joannicius. But it having happened that he became fiercely angry at the servant, anger seized him, and with his hand

he struck him suddenly. ^A Afterwards, when Constantine had come to himself, he was severely tormented in spirit because he had been overcome by anger, and approaching this great Father, he reported the matter to him. The latter, in return, administered to him a serious and fitting rebuke. The consul, like a son who had received a command from a father, would say to himself from that time on, whenever he felt himself being carried away further than was becoming: "Cease from anger, and conquer your mind." And immediately the deed followed the word. For he gradually ceased from anger and returned to himself. And such was what took place at the hands of the saint regarding Constantine; now I shall tell of what happened regarding his son. He also, at one time, went up to this servant of God, having been ordered by his father to do so. But his tongue was unsteady and he stammered. When, therefore, he had spoken with the saint, the latter, perceiving that he stumbled in his speech, ordered him to extend his tongue. This having been done as he ordered, the saint, imploring the help of Him who alone is able to make one speak clearly and distinctly, at once brought it about that the instrument of the youth's tongue was prompt and fluent, and he made his soul more vivid in the carrying out of God's commandments, and instilled in him a zeal for good deeds.

^B XLIII. But while he, being worthy of such things, was rewarded in such a way, when he came into the sight of others, he was nevertheless not seen by them. For a temple was being built on the mountain to the Baptist and Forerunner, whose life this man was emulating. The form of the building had been described by the great Joannicius to those who were building. When, therefore, it seemed good to the saint one day to come to inspect the building, in order to see if the work was proceeding in accordance with what he had ordained, upon his arriving at the site, others also approached him, so that they might see the admirable man and at the same time enjoy some of his conversation. ^C When, therefore, Joannicius, who was of youthful vigor, had arrived there, and they also had arrived, he indeed stood right next to them, considering how the building was proceeding. But they, though seeing him, did not perceive him. Then, he, having seen the building, turned back again toward his cave. They, however, remained sitting in that place, expecting when he would come. One, therefore, of the monks who were with him (this was John), having learned of the matter, deemed that this seemed burdensome to the men, and says to the saint: "It is not right that those who made so great a journey for your sake should return without having beheld your virtue; you know ^D that the matter is burdensome, and touches the very heart." The saint praised their intention and prayed for them, but, turning to the monk, said: "How could that which does not seem good to God be brought about by us? For I was standing in the midst of their eyes without any cover, and they, had it seemed so to God, would have seen me entirely, even had I hidden myself." After the monk heard these things from the saint, he signaled them. And they return, feeling no grievance. And this is indeed of such a kind; but how should that other incident not also be related?

^A XLIV. A certain Theodore, having recently embraced the monastic life, desired to learn of the affairs of the saint from those who were in the habit of visiting him, and what his manner of life was, and of what sort he appeared to be, and what he would do or say, so that, if nothing else, he might at least have things to relate concerning Joannicius, and from this leave a record of himself to those who would come later, when those who had heard these things from him would in turn relate them to their own successors, saying that they had learned this or that from such and such a person. But when he was recounting all that he had heard to certain people, they said that these things ought not to be accepted without scrutiny, but that they would see the author of these deeds, if he wished. He immediately becomes their guide for the journey; they ascend to the saint and come to him for conversation. As the conversation was still dragging on, a bear appeared from the woods nearby and disturbed their souls. But the saint commands them to offer it bread, and encourages them to be refreshed from that great fear, reminding them of the One who gave the power to trample upon the lion and the dragon (Ps. xc, 13), for these are far more terrible than the bear; and he frees their souls from fear, and commands the bear to return to its own dens. This indeed had happened just so, and when the conversation was finished, the men departed, having nothing else on their lips but the great Joannicius. Hence it came to pass that they were eager for virtue and were incited to a similar zeal, and said to the monk Theodore: "We do not believe from your words, but from those things which we ourselves have heard and seen," as the Evangelist says (Joan. IV, 42). Are these things sufficient, or do you wish for us to add other things of the saint's? But how, if we consigned these things to silence, should we not be harming the devout to the detriment of the most beautiful things?

^C XLV. When one day he wished to provide oil to the needy for food (for many poor people often used to frequent the place, to whom he would provide whatever he happened to have); wishing, therefore, at one time to distribute oil to them (for this was what he had at that time), he commands the monk who was serving him to bring two vessels, one full and one empty. The monk, however, thought the carrying of the empty vessel to be, in other respects, superfluous at that time. For what need is there, he said to himself, for an empty one where there is a full one? Nevertheless, since he could not transgress the Father's command, he took these two, the full and the empty, and brought them to him. It happened then, by some chance, that the full one became punctured, and as the oil was pouring out, the monk was in distress of mind. Coming then into his mind, he transferred the oil from the full vessel into the empty one, and thus it was given to the needy for mercy. ^D Then the monk realized that it had been spoken prophetically by the Father to bring an empty vessel along with a full one. From this, his face was filled with shame, because he knew that he had doubted the Father's command even a little; but it is not right to overlook even that.

XLVI. This great Father, having spent his entire life in a manner worthy of reverence and in a way that exceeds nature, not only after his life, but even still...

while he was in the body, continued to perform many paradoxical and wonderful things. For not only did the demons stand in awe of him, unable to endure his presence, but diseases also, which threatened death, were dissolved by his prayer and by the sign of the cross. Indeed, a friend of his, Eustratius, was afflicted by a severe malady, vomiting blood from his bowels. Informed of this by Eustratius, he came, stayed the flow of blood, and bade him be of good courage. Eustratius, having recovered from the disease through the presence of the man, went off to the place belonging to the Leucadians, which they are accustomed to call a Metochion, wishing to recover himself, as he was exhausted and weary, and to obtain some comfort. But for him, the matter turned to the contrary, and he again encountered a calamity much more severe than the first. For a violent fever seizing him, it tormented him severely and took away his voice, until, coming into the memory of Joannicius, ^B who shone brightly among the ascetics, he fell before him as if present, a suppliant, and entreated to be delivered from the present disease. In the meantime, having turned to sleep and imagining that he saw the great Joannicius standing by, conversing and, as it were, strengthening him, he was relieved of the disease, and he referred the cause of his salvation to that man, whom indeed he also cherished as his joy, and as one who opportunely rescued him from crises.

XLVII. As I wish to pass over the narrative, the following events do not allow it. For Theophilus held the Roman sceptre; and he, being entirely consumed by a passion for gold and mastered by it, and otherwise unable to bear being a Christian—acting impiously toward the divine images, and as he surpassed others in power, so too in the dogma of the Iconoclasts—laid such a snare for all Christians. ^C He occupied every village at once with scribes and tax-collectors, wishing to do two things that are most evil: namely, to satisfy his avaricious soul with the great exactions of taxes, and also to make manifest to himself everyone who followed the orthodox doctrine, so that he might take them by force and cause them, even unwillingly, to be joined to the heresy of the Iconoclasts. When, therefore, this divine man encountered a certain tax-collector, "What do these things mean, my brother?" he said. "The King is already summoning you to render an account of your deeds, and do you not even then understand? For justice is already pressing and urging, as you see, and unless you change this wicked mind, you will perish miserably and be punished most miserably." Now he indeed was speaking of Him who is in the heavens, but the tax-collector imagined that his own King was summoning him. ^D Therefore, he was already joyful and filled with good hope, knowing that on account of the taxes diligently exacted, he would obtain great things from the Emperor. But the future mocked his hopes, and the end followed upon those things which had been spoken by the saint, and the sword of the wrath of God, once intoxicated, straightway cut down the tax-collector, so that those immortal punishments after death might be exacted from him.

XLVIII. Therefore, someone revolving the things [done] by the saint

^A and searching them out as thoroughly as possible, would never find them to have fallen away from the truth. For sometimes, when two men having come at the same time to the little house in which he was, in order to meet the great Joannicius (their names were Peter and Plato), after he had sufficiently instructed them in virtue, one of them asked the saint to come to him every year, and that he might be worthy to behold him and to enjoy that honey-flowing speech of his. But he said, "From now on, you shall not see me, even if you wish." The man, therefore, was perplexed within himself as to what could be the thing preventing him from ascending to the saint, and, examining the matter, he did not find even one thing that he could deem more precious to him than the arrival to him. Not long after, however, certain others were ascending to him. Wishing, therefore, to go up with them, but because they were traveling on horseback while he was on foot, exhausted, he returned home. Hence, he was terribly filled with despondency, because it befell him to fail in his purpose. Not long after, however, having recovered, he attempted to go up again, and again was prevented from the ascent. Then, since often at other times another difficulty occurred and he was repelled, he realized [the truth], and came to a remembrance of the things that had been said to him by the saint; he remained within himself, attributing the matter to God and to Joannicius, who by some more divine providence orders all things for the beneficial end.

^B XLIX. At another time, the ever-beneficent Joannicius, being at leisure and having given himself entirely to prayer, said that he saw a certain Peter being taken up into the heavens and surrounded by an ineffable light and glory. Now this Peter had been entrusted with the prefecture of a certain monastery. And at that very hour, when the admirable man was deemed worthy of this vision, it happened that he was separated from the body, and in spirit was being carried up to the heavens, and was setting forth on that departure from this life. ^C Nevertheless, his freedom of speech before those in power is also worthy of admiration. For he not only rejoiced when suffering reproaches for the sake of Christ, or when enduring persecution, but he even sought to suffer greater things, knowing precisely that on account of this he would be deemed worthy of greater things. Hence, he used to call blessed the freedom of speech of the disciples of Christ, and the blows received for the sake of the Master, naming that perfect joy in which they participated.

L. When the emperor had sent to him two illustrious men, whom he knew to be endowed with a greater faculty of speech than others, he asked if it were necessary to honor the image of Christ. ^D When he had answered this in a divine manner, as one might say, and not with worldly persuasion and wisdom, so far from those who had been sent by the emperor bringing forward anything against the things said by him, they, having abandoned the things they formerly held, rightly learned piety and the true religion, just as he had explained it to them. When Eustratius, the prefect of the monastery of the Agauroi, had come again to the saint, since at that time the things of God and of the Churches were being disturbed by worldly...

^A waves. "Until when," he said, "will the affairs of the Churches not be restored to the Churches? Until when will the affairs of the persecutors increase? Until when will wild beasts tear apart the flock of God?" But he answered, "Wait a little, brother, and you will understand the power of God. For there will be a certain Methodius, who will take the helm of it, and he will govern it with the Divine Spirit; he who will take away the division and dissection of the Godhead, and will dogma-tize the orthodox faith, and will settle what is factious in deep peace and harmony, and will stand those who have resisted at the right hand of the Most High."

^B LI. A short time passes, and Theophilus departs from this life, while Michael and Theodora succeed to the empire; and Methodius, as a truly holy man and man of God, is ensconced in the sacred thrones. And, to put it briefly, when all things had been translated by him to the orthodox faith, and every storm and tempest had been lulled and matters were quiet, another sedition was raised by the pious, and the things of the Church were divided again and went into two opinions. For some thought it right to have as fellow-ministers those who had received the dignity of the priesthood from the Iconoclasts, since this did not at all harm piety; but others considered it, to hand over sacred things to profane hands, altogether impious and neither pleasing to God nor acceptable. And Methodius, who truly lived for God, was fretting, was pained, was cut to the heart; it seemed to him that he heard the great Paul ringing in his ears, nearly saying such things as this: "I could wish that I myself were anathema from Christ for the sake of my brethren according to the flesh," ^C if only you would stand with us, and we could glorify the Trinity in common. And he indeed was in such a state, while the others were ready to suffer all things rather than abandon what they had thought, so that from this point the fullness of the Church was again being cut into parts, and some were ranging themselves as they were themselves, and others as those.

The friend of God, Joannicius, therefore, falling upon matters so disturbed, partly by himself and partly by letters, was, as it were with a reed, calling back the divided part of the flock, and reconciling it to the one God, to the one good shepherd, and not a hireling; and especially he was reviving the now wavering spirit of the Archbishop Methodius. Writing many other things, but above all else to those who cut the consubstantial into strange and alien differences, and who—alas—think up absurd divisions, he exhorted them not to lend an ear to them at all, not to share salt, not to share a roof, not to speak to them, but as much as possible to avoid their company. ^D For he warned that he could not even be considered a holy celebrant who scorns and vilifies him whom he sacrifices for. He wrote, however, to Methodius, that he should rather have around the divine sacrifice those whom he knew to be in agreement with him in the dogma of orthodoxy. At the end of the letter, the great Joannicius wished him well, healthy in the sound teaching.

^B LII. When these letters had arrived, the divine Methodius committed to his memory what had been written; but the wicked men mocked the matter and held it in derision, and the good Joannicius was ill-spoken of by them. But when he realized that he was being calumniated by them, he stood where he could be heard by all and, discoursing on God and divine things, he so captured them by his power and brought them under his sway that they not only desisted from their madness against him, but also turned their minds toward what is better, and, letting go of what had previously seemed right to them, they learned the dogma of the orthodox faith as he proposed it. Thus that vast crowd of men was vanquished by the virtue of this one man, and whole cities depended upon that single opinion of his, discarding in a short time what they had meditated upon for a long period. Such was his care for the common good, and so did he embrace his brethren.

LIII. When the dedication of the houses of prayer which he had built was taking place, many miracles were performed by him at that time, even though he was not present. For a phalanx of demons, suddenly appearing above the tomb as if embodied, plunged those who were there into doubt. When the great Joannicius perceived the matter by the Spirit that dwelt within him, and had used the most effective remedy of prayer, he removed their fear and put the multitude of demons to flight, causing them to melt like wax before the face of fire. And as many as were afflicted with any severe diseases and fled to those venerable temples, he delivered from those things that were troubling them and sent them home healthy. What then in this is not to be wondered at in the man? Is it that the demons fled from him even when he was not present? Or that he delivered from the pain of their affliction those who were oppressed by them? For that the opposing phalanxes feared even his prayer alone is a sign of his boldness before the Master God, but that he delivered those who came there from their ills is a sign both of his fervor and his compassion. But this is of such a nature; who, however, could pass by the following in silence?

LIV. Once there came to him those who had been entrusted with the oversight of the temples which he himself had built. When they had met the saint, and one of them looked at him with fixed eyes, a thought came into his mind: "If this divine Father Joannicius has undergone the highest labors of asceticism and has given himself over to fasts of many days, why has he not mastered the bulk of his flesh, but is still similar to those who are of a good bodily constitution and fatten their own shins?" While he was turning these things over in his mind, that admirable man, Macarius—for this was the man’s name—said, "Why do these thoughts arise in your heart? My shins are not full of flesh, but you see how they are swollen, being empty and wind-filled, which a bad state of the stomach is wont to cause." And straightway repentance came upon the man, and he greatly reproached the vanity of his own mind's thought, and asked for forgiveness for what had come into his mind.

^A

LV. About the same time the Ishmaelites joined battle with the Romans, and many Romans were indeed slain, and many who were left in the war were led away captive. One of these, being a young man, happened to be a kinsman of the great Joannicius. Therefore, those who were related to him by blood invoked the help of the saint, that he might deliver the youth from captivity. He, even before he was called, came quickly, and having arrived around midnight at the prison, he appeared to one of those who were held captive with him, and said, "Arise, and wake the other, and let him wake the one who is after him." When this had been done as he had commanded, the bonds of those men were immediately loosed, chains and all, so that it did not even appear that they had been bound at all. The doors opened of their own accord, and the men were outside, having been able to gain exit even though they had not been permitted to enter in previously. When they had already returned to their own region, they encountered dogs upon the road—beasts fierce and cruel to those passing by, and fearful even to look upon. They were in despair as to what they ought to do, but the great Joannicius, arriving there too, and having cast a thick mist as it were upon the eyes of the dogs, brought the men through unharmed and untouched by any evil, and returned them to their kin. And they kept their gratitude for their lives throughout all their days, and no passage of time brought them to forgetfulness of that good deed.

LVI. ^B Since it was necessary that the fortitude of this man should also be shown in many ways against the temptations brought from without by the evil one, the Providence of God so arranging, and delivering the righteous into the hands of those who afflict them—not that he might tempt them, but that He might render them the more illustrious—the evil one possessed a certain monk, Epiphanius, who seemed to be of virtuous reputation and was practicing asceticism on that same mountain, and stirred him up against the saint. Why did he plot this? ^C Wishing to distract both of them from the toils of virtue, so that the one might have no leisure to plot, and the other might become weary of it. But he instilled envy into the soul of Epiphanius, while as for Joannicius, he was not even able to interrupt his intense exercise in the slightest degree. And the former set fire to that dense and overgrown mountain, so that the flame might consume the saint along with the brush. But he, having foreseen this through the grace of the Spirit that was in him, moved to another place, and Epiphanius was exposed as being evil and worse than himself. ^D What then did the admirable Joannicius do in response to this? He was not stirred to retaliation, he did not revile the one plotting against him, but as a disciple of the meek One, he drew near in a friendly and humble manner, and spoke to him, and sought to learn the cause of his enmity. But he—to use the common saying—flooded him with a cartload of insults, and finally the monk Epiphanius struck the saint in the middle of the stomach with the staff he had in his hand, which had a sharp iron at the tip, even though that compassionate man remained unharmed and continued to exhort Epiphanius to reconciliation. But he, having changed nothing of that ruinous opinion of his, remained in the same malevolence. This was, in fact, done by those who

had from the beginning given the hair tunic to the saint; for they had said, "A temptation will come upon you at the end, but it too will proceed in vain." ^A

LVII. When the saint had reached a deep old age and had become enfeebled by those marvelous labors of asceticism, he built himself a cell near the monastery of Antidius and enclosed himself therein. If at any time necessity called him to go out from there, he would pass along the public thoroughfare, for the most part being unseen by those by whom he did not wish to be seen at all. In the fifth year of the reign of Michael, Methodius, who governed the Church, having already foreseen that the departure of the great Joannicius to the Lord was drawing near, came to him and sought his final prayers. ^B The saint, having greatly valued this meeting with Methodius, prolonged his conversation with him for a long time, and then, having counseled the holy clergy and the newly-enlightened flock on the things necessary for piety—namely, that they should remain immovably and firmly in the orthodox faith, that they should not be led astray by the profane empty utterances of heretics, that they should maintain concord among themselves, and that they should not wag a blasphemous and slanderous tongue against the high priest—he added that Methodius would not live for a long time after his own passing, in which, indeed, he was not mistaken. For on the third day after these words, the day ^C was drawing to its close, and the third of November was upon them. Thus does the divine Joannicius, in spirit, migrate to Him whom he loved, being escorted by choirs of angels, while in body he is laid in a coffin. Methodius, who shone brilliantly among the patriarchs, also passed from this life eight months after the former's death, on the fourteenth of June.

LVIII. What, then, were the things that happened at the death and after the death of this wonderful Joannicius? The strengthening of relaxed limbs, and men delivered from evil spirits, if they only approached his coffin. For how was it not fitting that Joannicius ^D should be glorified by such things even after death, whose departure a pillar of fire had manifested to those on Mount Olympus, whom the angels preceded, opening for him the gates of paradise, and transmitting him to the blessedness that is there, so that he might appear purely before the face of the Lord and dwell together with the angelic orders; by whom the blessed Trinity is praised and glorified now, and unto the endless ages of ages. Amen.

LIFE AND CONVERSATION AND MARTYRDOM OF THE HOLY MARTYRS GALACTION AND EPISTEME

^A I. Of the cities of Phoenicia, which is near Mount Lebanon, there are many, both to the south and to the north; but foremost among all these, and situated toward the northern parts, is Emesa. This city bore and reared a man named Clitophon, notable by birth, in wealth second to none of the citizens, and in intelligence far sharper than the others. Joined to him was a wife named Leucippe, in other respects of good character and suited to such a husband, and not yielding in beauty of form even to the most beautiful; yet she was unhappy in this one thing alone, that she was barren. For this reason, since she was assailed by many reproaches from her husband, she was oppressed by great anguish of spirit and vexed with cares, and attempted everything, desiring to be released ^B from these bonds.

II. Since both, therefore, considered it a disgrace and a dishonor that they were not fathers of children, and that they would have no one to be the heir of their wealth, through whom their lineage might again be preserved for them, and since it happened at that time that the worship of idols was flourishing greatly, and the governance of the city of Emesa had been entrusted to a certain Secundus—a man who was a Hellene in religion but in mind altogether a barbarian, whose work was such that he had no other care but to overthrow all Christians and to uproot piety with all his might—since, I say, the affairs of the pious were placed in such great danger, each one sought safety for himself in flight. Now there was one, Onuphrius by name, a monk by habit, good and god-fearing in manner; he decided that to withdraw altogether and leave the souls of the weaker, who were in danger at such a time and in such a storm, was not the act of a pious man, and of one who had enrolled himself in the choir of such as these. ^C But since, on the other hand, he judged that to speak freely of piety and to cast himself into dangers was not beyond reproach, nor consistent with the laws of true religion, he held to a middle course; and covering himself with a white garment, which he wore over his monastic habit, he was in truth a monk, and practiced those things which belonged to his calling, and pursued the duties appropriate to such a life, and thus he would craftily conceal his...

impiety ^A. Therefore, feigning poverty for the sake of piety, he was a voluntary beggar, and in going about to houses for the sake of necessary things, he would himself rather give bread, which had the power to strengthen souls, instructing those he met with words of piety, and exhorting them to flee with all their might from those who remove themselves far from life and separate themselves from the Creator.

III. When, therefore, he had once approached the house of Cleitophon, he sought food, stretching forth his hands and uttering cries that could incline a soul to mercy. Now it happened that at that time Leucippe was troubled and full of sadness, inasmuch as her husband had reproached her for her sterility. When, therefore, she had ordered the doors to be closed to Onuphrius, who seemed troublesome ^B, he, however, as one who knew no better what was wanted, and that he had come rather to give than to receive, for that reason persisted in asking, until, because of this praiseworthy impudence, he was called in and kindly accepted. Words therefore being exchanged and the conversation thus prolonged, Leucippe recounted her state, and how her womb was barren, and how no god had been found up to this very day who could release her from these bonds and free her from the disgrace of lacking children. But deservedly, said Onuphrius, have you not obtained what you asked, since you wished to have such as these as helpers for your sterility. For those who have cultivated works full of reproach and disgrace, how could they themselves free others from disgrace? But if now, listening, you wish to acknowledge the true God ^C, who can do all things, you will see that the advantage does not return to you alone. Indeed, you will be able to benefit your kin, transmitting true religion to them like a kind of inheritance. Leucippe applied her mind to these things, and offered herself like good soil to the seeds of his words.

IV. This divine man, however, first introduced to her the knowledge of the high Trinity; then he exhorted her to the study of virtues. After that, he taught her the sanctification which is brought about by the saving baptism ^D, by which there shall be a cleansing of her former defilements. He also showed her the monastic habit, with which he was indeed clothed, but which he kept hidden, avoiding the assault of malignant hunters, and having approached for the sake of her salvation, he feigned the request for alms. But she, answering to these things, said: I fear, she said, lest I fall into two contraries. One, indeed, that against those who have this faith and are called Christians, great threats are intended by him who now rules over affairs; and more grievous are the punishments that follow them. The other, indeed, that if I cross over to piety and depart from the decrees of my ancestors, if he who cohabits with me does not undergo the same change, but continues hereafter in the religion he now holds, how could one and the

same mind govern those who ought to be one, yet are divided in the greatest part? Resolve this doubt for me, and you will set me free from anxiety regarding other matters. [E] [V]. He, having said many other things, and added that "your husband, too, will soon be changed to serve the same religion as you," she obeyed him to such an extent that she even ordered her handmaids to do whatever he might say. Therefore, when Onuphrius ordered them to fill one of the jars that happened to be by the garden with water, Leucippe, having been instructed beforehand and having had all those things performed by him which it is right for Christians to receive, is then deemed worthy of divine baptism. A little while later, Onuphrius departed from there, having given her many injunctions regarding both the guarding of the faith and the commandments of Christ. Leucippe, pretending to be ill, lived apart, avoiding the intimacy of her husband; for, having already been purified in spirit and having received the divine bath, she did not wish to defile it by the unions of her husband. When some days had passed, she perceived that she had conceived in her womb, a fact which soon became clear to Clitophon as well. And he, ignorant of the truth, said, "Now, woman, you seem to me to have pleased the immortal gods, and for this reason, you have recently been deemed worthy of their providence." She, checking herself a little, said, "Do not name gods to me, husband; for I do not wish it, but one God, the Lord and maker of the universe, who cares for both you and me, and who is able not only to dissolve barrenness but also to do everything that is his will with ease." He replied, "And who is this, the mightiest of all, and who looks upon us so kindly?" And Leucippe said, "To me, sweetest husband, he appeared in a dream, having indeed a human form, but hands stretched out upon a cross, who immediately loosed the bonds of my womb and stirred me to this conception in a wonderful way. Why, therefore, should we not also rather attend to him and worship him, and determine that all our affairs should depend upon his kindness?" ^C [VI]. And Clitophon, having remained silent for a little while so as to give his mind time for reflection, said, "I know whom you mean; for indeed he is the one who is honored by the Galileans, and in truth possesses great and unassailable power. But who shall withstand the cruelty of him who holds power?" And Leucippe, gladly seizing upon what had been said, said, "For the time being, O head most dear to me, let our worship of him remain in secret; for thus we might escape the malice of the impious. But it will be possible one day, with his power aiding us, to walk honourably even in the day, and to do the works of light openly." Saying these things, since she had her husband compliant in all matters—for it was fitting that the kindness of Christ also be made manifest, and that what Onuphrius had predicted to her concerning her husband should not fall short—she thereafter, with no hesitation but with boldness, revealed everything to him, and

he too was deemed worthy of the divine bath, Onuphrius the wonderful having again served for these things.

^B VII. When the time for Leucippe to give birth had now arrived, and she had brought forth a male child, Onuphrius was again summoned—the habitual help, the God-sent good—and the newborn was regenerated once more through him by holy baptism, and received from him his name and was called Galaction; and the naming was a sure prophecy of things to come. For he was born pure from the pure, and a truly noble shoot from noble stock. As time went on, Galaction added wisdom to the growth of his age, or rather, had a mind even beyond his years. Having been given over to school and trained in more advanced studies, by the excellence of his nature he left behind even his teachers. When he was in his twenty-fourth year, his father felt the need to arrange a suitable partner in life for him, as his mother Leucippe had already departed this life.

VIII. There was at that time a certain virgin, surpassing the many in beauty and seemliness of character. Episteme was her name, holding first place among women for fame of nobility and glory. ^C They betrothed her to Galaction, initially as a mere token of marriage, but later also for the union of their souls. When Galaction found life with her difficult, and made it plain that he did not admit to her embraces and approaches because of the disparity of their religion and because she was not a partaker of the divine baptism, he was frequently questioned by his relatives, who took the matter ill and weighed it heavily. But when he was once alone with Episteme, and was asked by her the cause of his aversion, Galaction said that he could not otherwise bear life with her, unless he saw her sharing with him in the faith; for he said it was clearly unholy for the cleansed to be joined to the unclean. “If therefore, O wife, you treasure life with us, listen to me as I advise the best course; and since at the present time there is a lack of priests appointed to minister to baptism, and it is impossible for anyone to be and be named pure in any other way, let us perform this gift ourselves, as the occasion permits.”

IX. When he saw her consenting to this and not resisting in the least, he ordered one of the basins in the garden to be filled with water, and thus, without anyone knowing, he baptized Episteme. ^D She, therefore, even after the baptism, when eight days had passed, saw a new and unusual

^A dream in her sleep. She seemed to be walking about in some royal dwellings, outstanding in an unutterable beauty, in which three choirs were standing on either side along the walls. The first of these contained men, honorable to behold and adorned in a black garment; the second contained women who were attired in a similar manner; and the third was of virgins, in whom a delightful cheerfulness bloomed and a noble grace smiled freely upon their faces. The women, however, who were cloaked in the black garment, were seen to have certain wings and to emit fire, by which everything that fell upon it seemed to be consumed. When Galaction heard of this vision, he explained that it possessed such a power. For he said that these three choirs represented those who separate themselves from the world and from all things in the world, and who preserve virginity and have resolved to live according to Christ; and of those clad in black, he said that they were like the angels, for their wings and fire signify at once both speed and invincible strength. ^B

X. Episteme, having heard these things, immediately manifested the nobility and the love of beautiful things of her own soul, and she became desirous of the greatness of those things she had seen. "Tell me," she said, "if we should depart from one another, husband, and draw near to God, will we be able to preserve the affection between us inseparable? Give me a firm and certain assurance of this, and I will never refuse to be your companion in this resolve." ^C When they had given each other strong pledges never to be separated in mind from one another, Galaction, having invoked God with his customary supplications, suggested to Episteme the things that would be profitable for her, saying, "Go forth, and distribute your possessions liberally to those in need, believing that you are not spending them, but rather storing them up in an inviolable place. I, for my part, will be an example to you in this, and I will be the first to make a distribution of my own things, not with a small and sparing hand, but munificently and abundantly bestowing them. Come on the third day, and whatever seems best to us both, we shall accomplish." ^D

XI. When, therefore, they had distributed what they had and had met with each other, they ordered Eutolmius, the most benevolent of all the servants they possessed, to follow them, and they went out from the house, intending to embrace the life of the solitary. Having journeyed for ten full days, they arrived at a mountain called Publius by those living nearby, situated somewhere near Mount Sinai. Finding there twelve monks pursuing an ascetic way of life, they explained to them their purpose, and asked to be received and registered in their number; which indeed came to pass not many days later. And Galaction was numbered among the order of these men; but Episteme was sent by him to a certain distant monastery, in which four virgins were practicing the ascetic life.

^A XII. Since Galaction had chosen this manner of life, what path did he not tread that was capable of teaching moderation? And which of the senses did he not instruct, by imposing limits and measures upon them all and making them obedient to the temperate mind? He was so concerned with fasting that for two years he partook only of bread once a week, and that in a small amount, only as much as was necessary to sustain life. Along with fasting, he practiced vigils and perpetual diligence in prayer. He took such care of chastity that, from the time he was enrolled in the monastic life, he never once allowed himself to come into the sight of a woman. A clear proof of this is that when two of the monks, who had a mother not only diligent in virtue but now advanced in age and grown old in the monastic life, asked him to see her and to partake of her maternal prayers, he would not suffer it. ^B XIII. Since he was in this state and proceeding in a straight path toward every virtue, it did not seem tolerable to the evil one; but he crept up to him who was then administering the empire, incited him against all Christians, and caused him to move a manifest persecution against them. For he attacked them, punishing them most severely, partly by himself and partly through vicars who were like-minded with him. Those who were serving the times came to him and said that those who inhabited Mount Sinai held the gods in contempt, but worshipped one only God, and him crucified, and offered all adoration to him. Immediately, therefore, he, as if struck by a goad by that ^C discourse, ordered a phalanx of soldiers to quickly take the mountain and bring to him in chains as many Christians as inhabited that mountain. While those who had been sent were arriving at the place and were about to arrest the divine men, Episteme, practicing the ascetic life as a nun in the aforementioned monastery, saw a dream toward midnight. For she seemed to be entering a certain palace together with Galaction, and their heads were adorned with crowns by the king. In the morning, communicating to the steward of the monastery those things which she had seen, she clearly learned whither the dream tended; for he said the palace was the kingdom of ^D heaven, and the king was he who truly and alone and naturally reigns; and that the crowns signified that they were soon to proceed to contests, and would be clearly superior to their adversaries. XIV. When, therefore, the soldiers had arrived, as they had been commanded, and all the others had taken to flight, they found only two monks, one of whom happened to be Galaction. When, therefore, he too was being led away by them, and Episteme had learned this and had sat down in a high place of the mountain, from which she could see without being seen, she beheld with her eyes that which she could not even have received by hearing—Galaction being led away in chains and expected to suffer grievous things. Therefore, casting herself upon the ground, she was beseeching her handmaid with much crying that she might be allowed to hasten to Galac-

Galaction, and, if it were possible, to be subjected to the same bonds. And if it were necessary for him to depart from this life, that she too would at that time undergo the same death. For it had been agreed between them long before, that they should never be separated from one another in mind and disposition. It would be grievous, she said, if when the time called for it, she should appear to be unmindful of their compacts. The handmaid, however, first tried with words to turn her away from her resolve; but when she could not persuade her, she allowed her to do ^A what she wished.

XV. She therefore, having bid farewell to those who were with her, followed the footsteps of Galaction. And when she was near, "My lord," she called out, "and guide of my salvation, do not refuse me who am yours, nor forget those things which we agreed upon with one another." When the fierce ministers of impiety heard this, they turned back from the middle of the road, and taking her, they bound her with the same chains, saying nothing else, but being greatly gladdened at her questioning. Yet Galaction, even though he was in this state, did not abstain from his admonitions; but even while walking, and encircled by chains, he gave her the necessary counsel, saying, "Do not, O lady, let the enemies circumvent you by deceit, either by bringing grievous things to cause fear, or by tempting you with the pleasantest things of the world toward impiety." And while these things were being said, someone came ^B in haste, showing by his countenance great confusion, saying that the examination of the saints was reserved for the morrow, as it had so pleased the prefect. In the morning, therefore, the judge ordered them to be brought into the place in which it was the custom for those being judged to be led.

XVI. And when they had been produced with great haste, the prefect immediately questioned them, not about their fortune, nor about the country that bore them, nor about anything else of the usual matters, nor did he proceed to words capable of persuading, but fixing a bitter and threatening gaze upon Galaction: "Who is this," ^C he said, speaking in the excess of his rage, "who is cast down in thought and sorrow, and to whom else does he render divine worship, that he dishonors the gods?"

But Galaction, fearing nothing, and without changing from his usual state, said, "In life, I am a monk; but from Christ I have the name of Christian, to whom, as one who thinks rightly, I render worship."

And as the saint was hurling many reproaches at him, and mocking his gods, and calling those who worship these inanimate things equally senseless, the accursed one ordered him to be bound with his hands behind him and to be beaten mercilessly with ox-sinews. And as he was being flogged, Episteme, seeing this, and suffering in her soul in an ineffable way, ^D said, "O, insatiable and cruel soul, why have you inflicted such lashes upon limbs so tender and worn out by many labors of asceticism? And how is it that the hand of those serving the lashes has not grown numb?"

Upon this, the prefect, ignited into even greater anger, said, "Strip this impudent and rash woman of her garments down to her linen tunic, and punish her severely with lashes, so that she may learn to speak with caution, and not act so arrogantly toward her superiors."

^A XVII. When this had been done with great speed and the punishment had already been prolonged for a long time, the martyr struggled against all the painful and harsh things that were being inflicted upon her in a wondrous manner; she did not in the least cease to cry out against the judge and to reproach him for his shameful conduct, in that he did not even blush to expose to the sight of men that nature which it was necessary to keep covered, but even ordered it to be tortured in the presence of many. "Therefore," she said, "punishments await you there. But here, too, not long from now, the just punishment of God will punish you." She spoke, and immediately justice followed, and those who were around the governor were struck with blindness. This brought glory to the holy woman, but salvation to those who were punishing her. For the blindness of their eyes dispelled the cloud of their soul, and illuminated them with the light of the knowledge of God. Therefore they confessed that they believed in Christ, and again, along with the light of the soul, they also received the light of their bodily eyes—men not two or three, but fifty-three in number. ^B

XVIII. The Martyrdom of the Fifty-Three

MARTYRDOM OF THE HOLY GREAT MARTYR HIERON AND OF THE SAINTS WITH HIM WHO STRUGGLED AT MELITENE

^A I. The fatherland of the illustrious Hieron was the second province of the Cappadocians, and the city, Tyana; his mother was Stratonice, a pious woman who feared the Lord. When Diocletian and Maximian were administering the Roman empire—men most superstitious in the worship of demons and possessing the greatest zeal for idols—it was reported to them that the whole region of the Armenians and that of the Cappadocians were acting contrary to their wicked decree and resisting their commands. After they had consulted together for a sufficiently long time, they chose two men who were deep in intellect and possessed of much skill and craftiness, and sent them to each nation. One of these they ordered to govern the land of the Armenians; this was Agricolaus. The other they ordered to take charge of the region of the Cappadocians; Lysias was his name. They were given the command not only to punish those who did not obey the emperor’s edict and who refused to worship idols, but also to enlist those who were suitable into the military registers.

^B II. When Lysias had therefore arrived in Cappadocia and was seeking those who were distinguished for their strength, Hieron was pointed out to him—a man powerful of hand, noble of soul, and the most outstanding of all who were of his time. Immediately he sent soldiers to bring him. When they arrived at his house and did not find the one they were seeking (for he was working his own small plot of land), they learned where he was and went there. But he, seeing a multitude of men rushing toward him with great speed, and moreover suspecting what was happening, and not wishing—being a pious man—to serve in the military alongside impious and wicked men, quickly, in the rustic manner he had, removed the handle of the mattock that he was holding in his hand. With this he defended himself against those who were advancing; and indeed, falling upon them with great fervor, he did not cease striking until he had scattered them all, who greatly praised their flight as that which could finally provide them safety. Then they proceed to a second attack, at once intending to recover the authority they had lost.

and considering it a thing of shame if, being so many, they were reported to have been defeated by one man. Moreover, fearing the governor himself, lest he should escape their hands entirely, they summoned many others to assist them and joined in attacking the saint. But he, before they could reach him, entered the nearby cave with the eighteen men who were with him, and immediately, as the common saying goes, he was an eagle in the clouds, leaving those who attacked him with nothing accomplished. ^B Immediately, therefore, they surrounded the cave and stationed a sufficient number at the entrance so that he might not escape, while others they sent to the governor of the city, requesting additional reinforcements. He sent not a small force, and he also sent Quiriacus, the brother of the divine Hiero.

III. When they were all present, there was no one who dared to enter the cave at all, for they feared the hands of Hiero. Quiriacus, however, when he saw them thrown into great hesitation, advised them to withdraw a little; he promised to capture him not by force but rather by persuasion. This being done, he persuaded his brother to come out of the cave, and having taken him, he went to his own mother. She, having learned of the matter and that her son was about to be presented immediately before the duke to be condemned, threw herself upon him and wept bitterly, calling him the only consolation of her life, the staff of her old age, and the comfort of her bitter widowhood, and lamenting how she, blinded in her eyes, burdened by old age, and worn down by widowhood, would soon be left alone and without comfort. ^C He, having embraced her with the reverence that is proper, and having bid farewell to those who had been gathered, set out on the journey to Melitene with his kinsman Victor and his two brothers, Antony and Matronianus, with great and intense zeal, urged on by the soldiers who had been sent to bring him.

IV. In a certain place, when evening had overtaken them, they encamped and waited for the dawn. During that very night, someone in white garments appeared to him and said in a gentle and kindly voice: "Behold, Hiero, I announce salvation to you. The path on which you are traveling is straight before you. You will not contend for an earthly king and for a glory that is most easily dissolved, but you will complete the struggle for the heavenly King, and before long you will arrive at Him to be glorified." Having said this, the one who had appeared, after having instilled an ineffable ^D joy in his soul, immediately departed. Hiero, rising up full of joy, said to his assembled friends and kinsmen: "I have known, brothers, the mystery of God’s dispensation concerning me, and from now on I am eager for the journey that lies before me. One is the treasure, one the possession, one the wealth that is laid up in the heavens. The things present benefit not those who possess them. For what will it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and suffer the loss of his own soul? There is nothing to me more precious than my soul, nothing better; the time that has passed of my life is sufficient."

^A I go henceforth to God. One anxiety alone torments me: the loneliness of my mother. For she is a widow and destitute of those who might support her, and in addition to this, she is deprived of sight and, having reached extreme old age, is now being deprived of me, the staff of her old age. Nevertheless, since I am hastening to death for Christ’s sake, He will surely care for her, the Father of orphans and judge of widows [Ps. LXVII, 6].

^B V. When the illustrious Hieron had spoken thus, and had wept at this remembrance of his mother, he completed the rest of the journey. Then, when he had arrived at Melitene, he was included in custody with others, who were thirty-one in number. To them the saint said: "Listen to my counsel, friends and brothers. I will speak of those things which are truly profitable for you—not for the present, but for the future; for which reason, also, all anxiety concerns those who fear the Lord. A proclamation has been made that tomorrow the impious governor is to offer sacrifice to those who are no gods. If, therefore, you listen to me, let us despise this proclamation, and let us neither consent to worship idols nor offer them any sacrifice at all. Let us rather offer a sacrifice of praise to our true God, and let us offer our prayers to Him, so that, attending to the petition of our souls, He may grant us to endure the torments that are to be brought upon us with a brave and noble spirit, and to attain a blessed end." When the saint had said this, those who were present said: "Your words, O saint, have been like a honeycomb to our throats; for you have counseled us in things that are truly useful and salutary."

^C When the constancy of the holy ones was reported to the tyrant, and that they were spitting upon the imperial edict but clinging very strongly to the faith of the Christians, he, bearing these things ill and moved with anger, sat upon the high tribunal and, having caused the holy ones to stand before him, said, "What demon has led you into infinite madness, and persuaded you to rise up against such power, and caused you to despise the imperial decrees and not worship the great gods?" The martyrs said, "We would have been of disordered mind, and truly a mockery of demons, if we had rendered the worship of God to wood and stones, which are the works of human hands. But now, using reasoned judgment, we worship the God of all, who produced the heaven and the earth from nothing by His word and the Spirit of His mouth."

^D VI. When one of those standing by the ruler pointed out Hieron and said, "This is he who resisted those sent by you, and did the things which you heard," the duke, turning to him, said, "Whence are you?" And when he said that he was from the second province of Cappadocia, and had stated his homeland, saying that he was a Tyanean, the duke again said, "Are you he who resists the imperial commands, and by your power..."

are you exulting, having treated the soldiers sent by us most cruelly?" And the noble Hieron, not shrinking back in the least—for he knew how to say with David, "Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate thee? and am I not grieved with those that rise up against thee?"—confessed that he was the same. ^A The governor, however, not praising what had occurred as bravery, but rather censuring it as rashness and disobedience to what had been decreed, thought him worthy of punishment. "For since," he says, "your folly has pushed you into such rashness that you despise imperial power, and take no account of our command, and have beaten our servants with clubs, I order that the hand which served an uneducated mind be cut off from the elbow itself." Therefore, what was ordered was done faster than it was spoken. He ordered the other saints, bound with bull's sinews, to be scourged mercilessly, which brought the martyrs joy rather than pain. For holding out for many hours, they gave thanks to God, who had deemed them worthy to undergo such tortures for His holy name. What came next? The prison succeeds the scourges. But I know well that what is to be told, just as it brought pain to the saints when it was done then, so now will it bring grief to you who hear it. For one of the fellow-combatants, Victor by name, whom the account previously mentioned as a kinsman of the saint, having been softened by the wounds he had already received, and shaken and thrown into turmoil by the fear of those to be inflicted, secretly summoned the jailer ^B and begged him, with great humility and servility, to have pity on him, to remove his name from the records, and to release him from custody, having received for this as a reward the small estate that was at Coramis. He, having readily agreed to the request (for what was promised was near to his own lands), releases Victor from the prison. Victor, having fled by night, found salvation full of the ultimate destruction, as he, poor man, suffered the loss of both his land and his soul—the former handed over to the one who seemed to save, the latter handed over to the demon. But when day broke and Hieron learned of the matter, he was seized with intolerable grief and bitterly bewailed the loss of his kinsman with sharp tears, saying, "Woe is me, Victor, what have you done? How grievous was your bargain! How did you buy the destruction of your soul? Why did you hand yourself over to the enemies? To what glory of crowns did you prefer the disgrace of flight? Why did you exchange eternal life for a short life? Why did you prefer fleeting relief to joy that cannot be ended? And how much trouble would the evils brought by men have caused you, had they been compared with the such bitter pains that you are about to have ^C upon falling into the hands of God and being delivered to the eternal fire of Gehenna?"

VII. Thus lamenting, when he had sufficiently mourned, he called his kinsmen, Antony and Matronian, and said, "Come, hear my final wish, that you may return and carry it out into effect. I wish..."

^A that my property which I have in Pisidia be given to my sister Theotimia, so that, by obtaining from it the means of life, she herself may perform the memorial of my martyrdom. As for all the other things that remain to me, I leave them to my mother, both because of that state of widowhood which is neglected and helpless, and furthermore because of her old age and the loss of her eyesight. And delivering to her my severed hand, tell her to write to the most magnificent Rusticius, who administers the government of Ancyra, that he may provide a house in Badesana, so that my hand may be deposited there." When the saint had thus declared his will, four days later the governor, sitting before the tribunal, summoned him along with the other saints. And since he had attempted by many contrivances to break down their steadfastness, and had tested them both with flatteries and with threats, and finally by scourging them severely, ^B yet saw them unyielding and unmoved towards everything, he ordered their heads to be cut off.

VIII. And as the saints were being led out of the city, they sang along the road: "Blessed are the undefiled in the way, who walk in the law of the Lord" (Ps. CXVII, 1). Then, having reached the designated place, and having knelt, and said, "Receive, O Christ, our souls kindly," their blessed heads were cut off. But by night the Christians, having taken up their bodies, buried them honorably. Antony and Matronian, however, approaching the governor, offered much gold so that they might receive the head of the holy Hiero. But he said, "If you do not provide gold equal in weight to the head, you will not receive it," the accursed man esteeming, though not with a godly calculation, the head of the martyr to be truly of the greatest value. ^C But they, not being able to buy it for so much, were in straits. But this was according to human estimation; yet God even here provided a way. For a certain faithful senator and lover of martyrs, by the name of Chrysaphius, having weighed out gold for the head, received it from the governor; and having built a most beautiful temple where the saints had received the end of their life, he deposited this sacred head there honorably and magnificently.

IX. The avaricious governor, however, having obtained so much gain through the head of the saint, was seeking the hand, desiring to make money from it too. But the zealous Antony and Matronian, perceiving his intent, took it away in the dead of the night and fled, and having reached their own city, they delivered the hand of the beloved son to his mother, ^D narrating in detail everything concerning the saint. She, having taken that martyr's hand in her hands, and having tempered the tear of grief with joy, would frequently turn it before her eyes, kiss it, and as if possessing the whole of him whom she desired, she would cling to it, embrace it, not knowing what she should do, dividing herself between joy and sorrow, saying

dividing itself between joy and, at the same time, grief, saying: "What have I received in exchange for what I gave, O most beloved? I sent you forth living and sound, but now, for a whole and living man, I have received only a hand—a part, alas! and a brief relic—as if so that I might weep the more and have a goad for my suffering, being led by it to remembrance. And yet, I brought you forth, wretched that I am, with pain, and I reared you with labor, hoping that you would be a staff for my old age, a guide for my weakness, and a solace for my despondency. But why, then, have I been brought down to mourning and tears, when I ought to rejoice and exult that I have become the mother of a martyr, that my womb has borne fruit as a gift to God, and that, having reared you, my dearest, and taught you, and trained you in piety, I did not see you finished by a common and worthless death? For the death of a martyr, by which ^B you have been perfected, has much that is beneficial. But do not completely abandon me when you have passed away; rather, through your intercessions to Him for whom you poured out your blood, deliver me more quickly from this laborious and calamitous life, and place me beside you, repaying me in this way for the nurture I gave you." Having said these things, she laid the hand in the place where the martyr had commanded, and brought all that had been prescribed to its conclusion, glorifying Christ our true God, to whom is due all glory, majesty, and magnificence, together with His unoriginate Father and the life-giving Spirit, now and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

THE CONTEST OF THE HOLY AND GLORIOUS GREAT MARTYR OF CHRIST, ORESTES.

^C I. When Diocletian, that most impious and lawless man, was emperor, a great persecution of the Christians took place throughout the whole world. For he sent governors into every kingdom subject to him, having given a decree that the Christians were to be put to death. Now there was a certain governor named Maximus, who approached the emperor and addressed him with these words:

^A “Divine emperor, leader of the revelation of the gods, and wise instructor in their divine mysteries, I entreat your divinity and benevolence: command that I may go through the regions of Cilicia and Cappadocia to destroy the race of the Christians—whom, having arrested and subjected to many and various punishments, I shall consume with fire and cast into the waters.” Having heard these things, Diocletian said to him, “You have authority throughout my entire empire for the overturning of the impious superstition of the Christians, so that you may make manifest the sovereign gods, the benefactors of the whole world.”

II. Having received the decree from the emperor, Maximus departed with great ostentation, like a lion that has found its prey. And having made his heart unmerciful, he rushed to the borders of Cappadocia, to a city called Tyana. Upon entering it, he was informed by its citizens that a certain physician named Orestes daily persuaded the whole city to revere and believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ. Hearing these things, Maximus ordered him to stand before the tribunal and said to him, “What authority do you possess? For we are no small amount moved against you. With all boldness, therefore, tell us your name and your race.” ^B Saint Orestes said, “My boldness is Christ, through whom, having spoken with boldness, I shall declare that I am a Christian and I am called Orestes.”

III. The governor Maximus said, “Since you have anticipated calling yourself a Christian and confess Christ to be God, sacrifice to the gods before the tortures, lest you be about to die a miserable death.” Saint Orestes said, “Let the gods who did not make the heaven and the earth perish. For I have learned from a young age to offer the sacrifice of praise to the living God, to whom I also pray with a pure heart. But I will never worship deaf and counterfeit gods.” The governor Maximus said, “I see you adorned in your youth, wise in prudent words, and possessing the handsome and seemly skill of the medical art; and I spare you as a son. Tell us, therefore, your name and the religion of your parents.” ^C Saint Orestes said, “If you seek to know my name, know that it is honored before God. For my parents according to the flesh named me Orestes, so that I also might please God and men through the confession of my Lord Jesus Christ and the healing of bodily ailments.”

IV. The governor Maximus said, “O demented and most wretched man, do you speak rashly, without being asked, and deceive yourself, while confessing that Christ is God—whom the Jews crucified as a criminal?” ^D Saint Orestes said, “O governor, if

you knew the power of the Crucified, you would have abandoned the vain deception of the idols, and would have worshipped Him who truly is God, of true God, and invisible of invisible, who by His own will united human nature in His divinity, and delivered us from the deception of the devil.” ^A Maximus the governor says, “With many words and deceits you weary my ears, so that you think you can persuade me to abandon the gods and worship the Crucified; which I will not do, but rather do you come forward and sacrifice to the gods, knowing that if you do this, you shall sit at my right hand in my government.” Saint Orestes said, “I worship the eternal God, who is ever and always my benefactor, and my Lord Jesus Christ, and to Him alone I do service; but of these demons I shall never become a partaker or a worshipper.”

^B V. Maximus the governor said, “Lead him to the temple of the gods.” Now the temple was adorned with gold and silver and many idols. And when he had arrived, the governor said to him, “Sacrifice to the gods, Orestes, that they may be propitious to you.” The holy one said, “You are deceived, governor, not knowing what is to your advantage; for these are bronze and iron, adorned with gold and silver to deceive men; for they neither see nor hear. ^C Being works of men’s hands, they cannot help themselves at all, nor can they repay those who disobey them.” Maximus the governor said, “Will you sacrifice, or shall I pull your limbs apart to destruction?” Saint Orestes said, “You seem to be trying to frighten me with threats. Do not delay, then, in doing this, but quickly do what you wish; for you do not know the Lord Jesus Christ who stands by me and helps me.” Maximus the governor said, “Beat him with rods, saying to him, ‘Do not act foolishly.’” And while the holy one was being beaten for a long time, he stretched out his hands to heaven and said, “Lord my God, look down from heaven and help your servant.” And the governor ordered him to be beaten further, so much so that forty soldiers took turns, ^D until the ropes, the thongs, and the sinews were worn out. And not content with these, the lawless governor commanded him to be beaten more severely, so that the inside of his bowels was laid bare, and all were amazed at the endurance of the man.

VI. After he had been beaten sufficiently, the governor says to him, “Sacrifice to the gods, and I will release you.” And the holy martyr Orestes did not answer him at all. Then the lawless governor, becoming angry, commanded iron spits to be heated and applied to his back, and that he be rubbed with the sharpest vinegar and salt. And when this had been done with great speed, while the holy martyr endured the tortures, the righteous one looked up to heaven and said, “Lord God, who consumed the cities of the Sodomites with fire, and brought Nineveh to righteousness through repentance by Your goodness and power, grant me to endure this struggle to the end, and perform a sign for me for good; and let those who hate me see

and be put to shame. Having said these things, the saint breathed upon the idols, and they were immediately ground to powder and became dust. And the martyr said to the governor: Where is the power of your gods? Were they not able to help themselves? And when he had gone out of the temple, the building itself was immediately consumed and fell down. [Z] VII. Then the governor, having become enraged, ordered that he be taken away to the inner prison, commanding the jailer that neither bread nor water should be given to him. But the holy martyr of Christ, Orestes, went to the prison rejoicing, and stretching out his hands to heaven, said: Lord Jesus Christ, You who from early childhood commanded that I be taught Your laws, and cast away from me every desire of deceit, You who made the heaven and the earth and all things in them, You who established the sea by Your word, so that from its own labors it might provide usefulness to men, You who gave rest to Your saints Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, do not abandon me, for I have dedicated and surrendered myself entirely to You; but make me a partaker and co-heir with Your holy martyrs who were perfected before me; for Your all-holy name is glorified unto the ages. Amen. [H] VIII. After the saint had prayed these things, and had spent seven days in the prison, on the eighth day the governor, having seated himself in judgment, ordered him to be brought forward and said to him: O Anusius, most impious one, and enemy of the favor of the gods, why did you dare to speak foolish and cold things? Or is it because I spoke to you gently before? Desire then, even now, to do what is favorable, and sacrifice to the gods. But if you are not persuaded by me, I will devise against you tortures more grievous than the former ones, and I shall cause you to depart from life in an evil and wretched way, and I shall command your body to be thrown into the water. The holy martyr of Christ, Orestes, answering, said to the governor: O you who are filled with all lawlessness, behold, I am ready for every trial of tortures; bring forward your instruments of torture and do what you will to me; for having the seal of my Lord Jesus Christ in my heart, I do not fear your threats. Then the governor, having become very enraged and filled with great anger, ordered nails to be brought, having the length of a span, and these to be driven into his sides. When this was done, his sides became like a torn garment, and like military boots. [Θ] IX. But when the lawless and most impious governor saw his noble and steadfast endurance and patience, and that he could not persuade him from his true confession to the living God, he devised another machine against the saint, so as to put him to death quickly; and he ordered the rank and file to bring a horse that was extremely wild, and that his hands should be bound with chains, and in this way the chains should be tied beneath the thighs of the horse, and the animal driven with great force, so that he might give up the end of his life in bitterness. And the executioners did what had been commanded them by the governor, and they dragged him away from Tyana for twenty-four miles, and he immediately gave up his spirit to the Lord.

X. Upon hearing this, the president ordered the martyr's relics ^A to be immediately cast into a certain river named Phibum, which is in the region of the mountain. In that place, however, a certain man was seen, brilliant in appearance like the sun, who, having gathered the holy martyr’s relics, deposited them on the mountain that is near the city of Tyana. When the president Maximus had done these things, he sent the acts of the holy martyr Orestes to the city of Antioch to the emperor Diocletian. The contest and martyrdom of the martyr Orestes was completed on the ninth day of the month of November, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom is glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.

THE MARTYRDOM OF THE HOLY MARTYRS AND CONFESSORS OF CHRIST, GURIAS, SAMONAS, AND ABIBUS

^B I. It was the six hundredth year from the empire of Alexander of Macedon, and Diocletian had already passed nine years holding the scepters of the Romans, and Maximian was already completing his sixth consulship. Augarus, son of Zoaras, was at that time the prefect, and Conon was bishop of the Edessenes, and a great persecution was aroused against the churches in all that were under the dominion of the Romans. And the name of Christians, as if it were something wicked, was assailed with insults and harassed; but the priests and monks, on account of their firm and inexpugnable faith, were delivered to miserable tortures, and the pious were distracted by desire and fear. For while they wished to speak the truth freely on account of their desire for Christ, they retreated again from the fear of tortures. For those indeed who armed themselves against piety strove that Christians should renounce their Christianity and join themselves to Saturn ^C and Rhea; but the faithful, on the contrary, endeavored to show that the things which were worshipped by the others were nothing.

II. At that time, therefore, Gurias and Samonas in G... ^D

^A were accused before the judge. The former was from the village of Sarqigutna and the latter from the village of Ganade; both had been raised in Edessa, which they call Mesopotamia because it lies between the Euphrates and the Tigris. Before this time, its fame had reached but few, but after the struggles of the martyrs, it was celebrated by the speech of all. The saints, however, did not spend their time in the city but remained far from it, as they wished to be far removed from its tumults and had made it their endeavor to be manifest to God alone. For Gurias, continence and love were a good and noble possession, and this disposition became his very name, so that you would not have known the man by his name unless you had first called him "the continent one." As for Samonas, his soul and body were vigorous in God, and he vied with Gurias in virtue. They were accused ^B before the judge of not only confirming the whole region neighboring Edessa with their own teachings and persuading men to hold to their own faith, but also of causing them to scorn their persecutors and of teaching them, in accordance with what is written, to consider their impiety as nothing at all: "Put not your trust in princes, in the sons of men, in whom there is no salvation." Incited to great madness by this, the judge ordered all who honored the Christian religion and followed the teachings of Gurias and Samonas to be arrested alongside those who had led them to this, and to be locked in a secure prison. The order was carried out; taking the opportunity, since he had inflicted stripes on some of them and subjected others to different tortures, he advised them to obey the emperor's decree. Acting as if he were doing something mild and humane, he dismissed the rest to go home, but he ordered the saints—as they were the first ^C to sow the proclamation of the truth and to impart piety to the others—to continue to languish in jail, while they themselves rejoiced in the communion of martyrdom. For they had heard that in other provinces many had undertaken the same struggle as they: among whom were Epiphanius and Peter; the holy Pamphilus with many others in Caesarea of Palestine; Timothy in Gaza; in great Alexandria, Timothy; Agapetus in Thessalonica; in Nicomedia, Hesychius; Philip in Adrianopolis; in Melitene, Peter; Hermes and those with him in the borderlands of Martyropolis, who were also crowned with the martyr's wreath by the duke Heraclianus along with other confessors, whose number is greater than can come to our knowledge. But we must return to what we spoke of earlier.

III. Antonius, therefore, the governor of Edessa, when he had granted the others permission to return home, having had a tribunal erected, commanded the ^D martyrs to be brought before him. And when the guards had done what was ordered, the governor said to the saints: Our most divine emperor commands these things: that you fall away from the Christianity which you follow, and that you render divine worship to the image of Jupiter,

^A offering incense upon the altar. To this Samonas said: "God forbid that we should forsake the true faith, through which we hope to be accounted worthy of immortal life, in order to add ourselves to the work of hands and a created thing." And the governor said, "It is necessary to fulfill the royal commands in all things." Gurias replied: "We would never become deniers of our pure and divine faith, following the will of mortal men, upon whom death falls; for we have a Father in heaven, whose will we follow, He who says, 'Everyone who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven; but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny him before my Father and his angels.' " And the judge said: "Do you not then choose the will of the emperor himself? And how would it not be among the absurd things for things appearing to men—and those who have no great power like you—to be brought to effect in action, while the commands of those who hold power are rendered void?" The saints replied: "Those who do the will of the King of kings reject and despise the will of the flesh." Then, when the governor threatened death if they did not obey, Samonas said: "We will not die, oh tyrant, by following the will of the Creator; indeed, we shall rather live. But if we were to choose those things which your emperor commands, know well that even if you did not execute us, we would still perish miserably."

^B IV. After the governor heard these things, he ordered Anovitus the official to cast them into the safest custody; for a soul that turns of its own accord toward evil bears the truth with difficulty, just as diseased eyes bear the splendor of the sun. When he had done what was ordered and the martyrs were in the prison—in which many other saints had already been enclosed by the soldiers—the Emperor Diocletian summoned Musonius, the governor of Antioch, and ordered him to go to Edessa and to interrogate the Christians enclosed there, whether they were of the common order or of the priesthood, regarding their religion, and to render an appropriate end to them. ^C When he had arrived at Edessa and had caused Samonas and Gurias first to be set before the judicial tribunal, he said to them: "This is the command of the master of the world: that you pour wine upon the altar of Jupiter and offer incense. If not, I shall consume you with various tortures; for I shall mangle your body with scourges until I reach the very vitals, ^D and I will not cease pouring boiling lead into your armpits until it has reached your intestines. Then I shall suspend you, now by the hands, now by the feet, and cause the joints of your limbs to be loosened; and I shall devise new and unheard-of torments, which you will not even be able to bear at all."

^A

Samonas answered: "We fear more that worm whose threats are aimed at those who deny the Lord, and that fire which is not quenched, than the torments you have enumerated. For He to whom we offer our rational worship will first strengthen us against these various torments and snatch us from your hands; and then He will place us in safety, where the dwelling-place of all those who rejoice is. Moreover, you are armed entirely against the body alone. For what harm could you do to the soul? As long as it dwells in the body, it is wont to become the more radiant through torments, and when it departs, the body has ^B absolutely no sensation. For as our outer man is corrupted, so is the inner man renewed day by day; for through patience we finish this contest set before us.

The governor, once again as if protesting so that if they did not obey he might punish them more justly, said: "Depart from your error, I advise you, and yield to the command of the emperor. For you will not be able to endure the torments." To whom the holy Gurias replied: "We do not serve error, as you say, nor ^C would we ever yield to the command of one in power; let it not be that we should be so ignoble and foolish. For we are disciples of Him who laid down His own soul for us, showing the riches of His kindness and His love toward us. We shall therefore stand against sin even unto death, and not even if anything were to happen would we be tripped up by the deceptions of the adversary, by which even the first man, having been ensnared, reaped death through the disobedience of the tree; and Cain, being persuaded, defiled his hands with the blood of his brother, ^D and found for himself lamentation and trembling as the rewards of sin. But we, applying our minds to the words of Christ, will not fear those who kill the body but are unable to kill the soul; but we will fear Him more, who is able to destroy both our soul and body."

The tyrant then said: "It is not that, in bringing forward your Scriptures, you may be able to refute what is alleged by me—not for this reason am I free from anger and long-suffering—but that you, having chosen the commands of the one in power, may return home in peace."

This speech did not turn the martyrs; but approaching him, they said: "What does it matter to us if you are angry, and are prone to wrath, and rain down torments like snow? For then you will benefit us all the more, rendering our proof of patience more radiant, and procuring for us greater rewards; for this is the sum of our hope: to leave this temporary sojourn, and to migrate to the eternal. For we have a tabernacle not made by hands in the heavens, which the Scripture also knows to call the bosom of Abraham, on account of his being joined to God in familiarity."

When, therefore, the governor beheld the immutability of their resolve, immediately putting aside his talk, he proceeded to punish; and he commanded Anuinus, the registrar, that each of the two be suspended by one hand, and to them

while they were being torn apart by the full weight of the rest of their bodies, he added that a heavy stone be attached to their feet to produce a sharper sense of pain. And this ^A indeed was how matters stood, and from the third hour until the eighth they endured such a torture, emitting neither a voice nor a groan, nor showing any of the symptoms of small-mindedness or base spirit. One would have said that they were suffering in another’s body, or that they were only spectators of what was happening to others.

VII. Meanwhile, while they were suspended by their hands, the governor was occupied in hearing other matters. Then, taking a respite from these, he commanded the registrar to inquire of the saints if they would obey the emperor’s command, so that they might be released from the torture. And while he made inquiry, and they were unable or unwilling to answer, he commanded them to be confined in the inner prison, in a pit—dark both in name and in reality—and for their feet to be fastened in the stocks until the following day. But when the day now appeared, their feet were indeed released from the bonds of the stocks; yet the entrance to the prison was blocked, so that not even a ray of sunlight could enter. It was also ordered to the guards not to offer them even a scrap of bread, nor a small drop of water for three whole days, so that from that point on, a dark prison and long starvation were the sentence for the martyrs. When the third day arrived, around the beginning of the month of August, the entrance to the prison was opened, but they were kept in it until the tenth of November. ^B Then the judge caused them to stand before his tribunal and said, “Has not even so much time provided you the opportunity to change your minds and adopt some sensible course?” But they replied, “What seems right to us, we have declared to you already many times; you, however, do what you are ordered.” And the governor immediately commanded Samonas to be bent at one knee and an iron shackle to be put upon his knee; and when this was done, he suspended him headlong by the foot that he had bent, pulling down the other by the weight of the iron, which cannot be explained in words, and thus he sought to tear the athlete apart; at which time, as the socket of his hip-joint was forcibly dislodged from its place, it came about that Samonas was lamed. But Guria, because he was infirm and somewhat pale, he left unpunished—not that he looked upon him with kindly eyes, nor that he had pity ^C for his weakness, but rather that he spared him from a desire for further torture; for, he said, he must not be used up before the punishments are finished.

VIII. There were already two hours of the day passed since Samonas had been suspended; already the fifth hour had arrived, and he was still hanging suspended aloft; and the soldiers who stood around were moved with compassion and urged him to obey the emperor’s command. But the mercy of sinners does not soften the head of the saint. ^D Since it was forbidden by law to kill anyone by torture—the law *Aut damnum*, § *Nec ea*, *ff. de pœnis*—for this reason the governor did not dare to assail Guria, who was of an frailer nature, with more severe tortures, lest he should give up the ghost during the torments.

^A For although he was bitterly compressed by the torture, he did not deign to give them any answer, permitting them to lament, and judging themselves rather, and not him, worthy of pity. Lifting his eyes to heaven, he prayed to God from the depth of his heart, and he recalled to the memory of the One the miracles that have been wrought from the beginning of time; saying, “Lord God, without whom even a sparrow does not fall into the snare; who didst enlarge the heart of David in his afflictions; who didst give to the prophet Daniel strength even against the lions; who didst make the children of Abraham victors over both the tyrant and the flame; do Thou also now, Lord, look upon the war that is waged against us, who knowest the weakness of our nature. For the enemy endeavors to turn away the creature of Thy right hand from that glory which is with Thee. But do Thou, looking upon us with Thy kindly eye, preserve within us the lamp of Thy commandments, which cannot be extinguished; direct our paths with Thy light, and deem us worthy to enjoy that blessedness which is in Thee: for Thou art blessed unto the ages.” And indeed he was sending up this thanksgiving to God, the judge of the contest; and a certain scribe who was present committed to writing the things that were said.

^B IX. The governor then ordered the [commentariensis] to release him from the punishment. He indeed, having done so, and having carried him, already worn out and exhausted by his pains, together with those who were present, they brought him to the former custody and set him down beside Saint Guria. Now when it was the fifteenth of November, and it was night, about the time of cockcrow, the judge arose; and lamps and soldiers went before him. And having reached the royal palace, where the court was held for him, he sat upon the tribunal with great arrogance, and summoned the athletes Guria and Samonas. ^C And the latter came walking between two men, and supported by the hands of each. For both fasting pressed him hard, and old age weighed him down, and only good hope refreshed him. But Guria himself was also carried and brought, being unable to walk at all, inasmuch as his foot had been grievously wounded by the shackle. To them the defender of impiety, Adeas, said: “Since power has been given to you, you have deliberated together concerning what is advantageous for you. Say therefore, if anything newer has occurred to you, and if any repentance for your former deeds has entered into you; obey the command of the most divine emperor. For thus you shall enjoy your own possessions, and also this most sweet light.” To these things the martyrs said: ^D “No one who thinks wisely would value the remaining in those things that flow away. For the time that has passed is sufficient for us for the use and sight of them, and we have no desire for any of them. But the death which you now hold over us will send us on to immortal tabernacles, and will make us partakers of that blessedness which is there.”

^A The governor said: “What has been said by you has caused great distress to our ears. I will present what is deemed necessary in a few words. For if you place incense upon the altar and sacrifice to the image of Zeus, it will be well, and each of you shall go home; but if you continue even now to disobey the command of the sovereign, your heads will certainly be cut off; for this is what the great emperor wills and ordains.” To this the most noble Samonas replied, saying, “If you will bestow such a benefit upon us, as to release us from the troubles here, and to make us cross over to the blessedness that is there, a reward will be stored up for you, as far as we are concerned, by Him who manages our affairs for our benefit.” To this the governor replied, appearing to be somewhat more humane, and said: “I have patiently borne with you until now, enduring those long speeches, so that by the postponement of time you might change your minds for what is useful, and not undergo the punishment of death.” ^B Samonas said: “Those who deliver themselves to a temporal death for Christ, it is clear that they will be delivered from the eternal one; for those who die to the world live in Christ. For Peter also, who shines in the choir of the apostles, was condemned to the cross and to death; and James, the son of thunder, was slain by the sword by Herod Agrippa; and Stephen also was pelted with stones, having been the first to run the stadium of martyrdom. And what would you say about John? Or will you not even accept his excellent constancy and freedom of speech, in that he chose to die rather than be silent regarding the debauchery of the (king’s) bed, while the adulteress received his head as a reward for her dancing?” ^C XI. And the governor again said: “It is not that you may enumerate the saints, as you call them, that I endure you patiently, but so that, having changed your counsel and yielding to the imperial mandate, you might be delivered from a most bitter end. For if you remain bold and insolent, what else but greater punishments will overtake you, by which, being oppressed, you will do even against your will what we require of you? At which time you will not be able to have any refuge in mercy at all. For what is done by force cannot even call forth compassion, just as, on the contrary, that which is done of one’s own accord is worthy of mercy.” ^D But the confessors and martyrs of Christ said: “There is no need for many words. For behold, we are ready for you to undergo every torture. Do not delay to carry out what you were ordered. For we are worshipers of Christ, the true God, and we say again, of whose kingdom there shall be no end, who alone is also able to glorify in return those who glorify His name.” While these things were being said by the saints, the governor brought forth his sentence against them, that they should undergo death by the sword. But they, seized with inexpressible joy, cried out: “To Thee, the God of the universe, glory and praise are truly fitting, because Thou hast graciously granted us to finish the struggle set before us, as

well as to attain the immortal splendor which is with Thee.” ^A

XII. When the governor saw their immovable constancy, and how they had received their final sentence in the exultation of their souls, he said: “God, the inspector of all those things which happen, be witness that it was not by my will that you were to receive the end of your lives, but the inexorable command of the Emperor compels me to this.” He then orders the executioner to take the martyrs, to place them on a cart, to lead them off far from the city with soldiers, and there to bring them to their end by the sword. He, having led the holy men out through the Roman Gate by night, while a deep sleep held the citizens, led them to the northern side of the city to the mountain of Bethelabicla. When they had arrived at that spot and had descended from the vehicle with inner joy and great constancy of soul, they asked the executioner and those who were with him for time to pray, and they received it. For it was as though their torments and their blood were insufficient to intercede for them, so ^B that, because of their extreme modesty, they still had need of prayer. So, when they had lifted their eyes to heaven and prayed intensely: “O God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, receive our spirits in peace,” they said finally. Samonas then, turning to the executioner, said: “Carry out what has been commanded to you.” And when he had knelt down together with Gurias, their heads were cut off on the fifteenth of November. And in this way, indeed, the events of the martyrs unfolded.

XIII. But since the number also sought a third, so that the Trinity might be glorified in these as well, it found — O excellent providence! — at a later time Abibus, who, however, had determined to follow the same path as those who had preceded him, and was ^C indeed perfected on the very same day of martyrdom. The great martyr Abibus, then, was of the same fatherland as they, namely, having originated from the village of Thelsa, and he had been adorned with the sacred chrism of the diaconate. When, however, Licinius held the scepter of the Roman empire and Lysanias had been created governor of Edessa, the persecution against the Christians had been stirred up once again, and total danger hung over Abibus. For he would go about the city, teaching all the divine Scriptures and confirming them with great courage in piety. When these things came to the ears of Lysanias, they were reported by him to the Emperor Licinius. ^D For he was eager that he himself should have the authority to hold the inquiry regarding the Christians, and most especially regarding Abibus. For it had not been committed to him before. The latter, however, having sent letters, ordered him to punish Abibus with death. When the letters had been delivered to Lysanias, Abibus was sought everywhere. But he was staying in a certain part of the city, on account of

the ecclesiastical state; and his mother, together with some of his relatives, was with him. When he learned of the matter—lest he be called to account for deserting the ranks of martyrdom—he approached one of those who were leaders of the order, a man named Theotecnus, and made his identity known to him; and finally, he said, "I am the Abibus whom you seek." And he, looking upon him the more kindly, said, "No one, O man, knows yet that you have arrived among us. Depart, therefore, and save yourself. And let there be no concern in you for your mother or for those who belong to you; for no one could possibly bring them any affliction." And these were the words of Theotecnus. ^B

XIV. But Abibus, as the time called for martyrdom, was not willing to steal his salvation with a low and ignoble spirit. Therefore he said to him: "It is not for the sake of my dear mother, nor for the sake of my kinsmen, that I make myself manifest, but I have come for the sake of the confession of Christ. For behold, even if you are unwilling, I will show myself before the governor, and I will preach my Christ before rulers and kings." Theotecnus, therefore, fearing that he might go to the governor of his own accord, and that danger might result to him because he had not made the man known, took Abibus and brought him to the governor, saying, "This is he that is sought, Abibus." When Lysanias heard that Abibus had come to the contest of his own accord, thinking it an act of contempt and audacity—as one who had made light of the severity of the tribunal—he immediately had him brought to judgment ^C and demanded his status, his name, and his homeland. When he replied that he was from the village of Thelsea, and proclaimed himself a minister of Christ, the governor immediately accused the martyr of disobedience to the imperial commands. And he cited as clear proof of this the fact that he did not offer incense to Zeus. To this, Abibus declared himself a Christian, and said that he could not abandon the true God to sacrifice to inanimate things devoid of any sense, the works of human hands. But the governor ordered him to be suspended on high from a wooden beam, with his arms bound with ropes, and to be lacerated with iron claws. And the suspension was far more violent than the laceration; for he was in danger of being torn apart, as his arms were being pulled asunder by the force of the tension. ^D

XV. Then, while he was hanging on high, the governor turned to blandishments and feigned patience. He even threatened greater things if he did not change his mind. But he said: "No one shall lead me away from the faith in Christ, nor will anyone persuade me to worship demons, even if he were to inflict more and greater torments." And since the governor wished to know what use the torments could provide him, which only consume the body, the martyr of Christ, Abibus, said: "Our interests do not stop at the present time, nor do we follow only those things which are seen. But if you also wished to look toward the hope and the

^A promised reward, you would perhaps say with Paul, that: "The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." ^B Since, however, the governor considered the things spoken by him to be foolishness, and now using flattery and masking himself in the semblance of patience, and now threatening and brandishing a bitter death before him, he saw that he yielded to neither of these. "I will not bring about your end all at once," he announced to him, "but with a gentle fire, you being little by little liquefied, I shall prepare you to lay aside your relentless soul." He spoke, and indeed, wood having been collected to the north outside the city, he was led to the pyre, his mother following, and those also following who were related to him by kinship. And he, after having prayed and blessed everyone, and having bestowed the kiss in the Lord, since those who perform such things had lit the fuel, he was thrown into the fire; and having opened his mouth and received the flame, he commended his spirit to Him who had given it. Then, as the fire ceased, those who were related to him wrapped him in a costly shroud, anointed him with myrrh, and having sung psalms and hymns as was fitting, they laid him down beside Samonas and Gurias, to the glory of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, of the divine and undivided Trinity, to whom is due honor and adoration now and for ever and ever. Amen. [(1) The matter concerning the Kerne, a miracle of the saints.] ^C Such indeed was the end the martyr Abibus found in the times of Licinius, and such burial with the saints did he obtain, and thus he brought about a cessation of the persecutions for the pious. For from then on, Licinius’s power withered, while the authority of Constantine flourished, and the Roman scepters grew under him; he who first among emperors spoke freely of piety, and granted Christians to live as Christians. But in order that you might know what grace the martyrs obtained from God, it is necessary to go through it from the beginning.

^D 15. The Huns, the Ephthalites, neighbors of the Persians, and who dwelt toward the rising sun; this savage and barbarian nation, not many years after the consummation of the martyrs, attacked the Romans to such an extent that they even drove as far as Edessa itself, and plundered the surrounding regions. But the kings of the Romans defended the city vigorously, and in a short time gathered their entire army, so as to fight for Edessa, wishing to keep it impregnable, and trusting especially in the words of Christ which He had written to Augarus, that the city would never be taken by barbarians, and that in it first the image of our Lord and Christ had been sent to Augarus. The Huns therefore made preparations against the city, thinking to take it easily; but the Romans sent assistance to the Edessenes, as

^A they might not be captured by the Huns. Now when those who had been sent by the Romans had already reached Edessa, it happened that a certain Goth was among them—a man barbaric in his ways and baneful in his mind—who lodged in the house of a woman named Sophia. She had an only daughter named Euphemia, and lived in widowhood, concerned only for her daughter. The girl was therefore being brought up by her mother like a newly sprouting shoot, practicing temperance and virginity, and taking pains not to be seen by the eyes of men. The girl was, in fact, comely in appearance and of incomparable beauty. Since, therefore, the Goth spent much time in that lodging, he somehow caught sight of the girl, and was so taken with love for her that he could turn his mind to nothing else but the maiden. Therefore, putting on a mask of kindness and pretending to be a friend, he approached the mother and attempted with flatteries and promises of riches to persuade her to give her daughter to him in marriage. She, however, took it heavily and gave no heed to the things said by him. As he became insolent and threatened great things, she said, "The only daughter I have, I would never endure to join to a barbarian man. Do not, therefore, flatter nor threaten; for you will neither soften me with flatteries, nor will you frighten me with threats." But he persisted in the same conduct again, and again showed his impudence, and spoke of the same things to the mother for hours at a time; then he also brought her precious ornaments and assured her that she would be mistress of many other things. Yet the girl's mother did not even so give ear to the things said by him. ^{B C} XVII. Then, as he continued in his former ways, Sophia again—from where she had learned it, I know not—replied to him, "You have both children and a wife; I would not give my daughter to you in marriage." He, however, partly overcome by love for the girl, and partly paying no mind to the fear of God, took God to witness that he had never had a wife nor children, but that he wished to take the girl as his wife and make her the mistress of all his possessions. The maiden's mother is therefore conquered by the Goth's words. For what was she to do, being a woman, who is easily deceived, and hearing an oath (so testing) and having her soul cast into fear? She therefore lifted her hands to heaven: "Father of the orphans and protector of the widows, Lord and God," she said, "do not overlook this orphan who is being joined to an unknown man. For I accept Thee as the overseer of his promises, and trusting in Thee, I deliver my only daughter to this stranger." Thus she spoke, and in the meantime the marriage contracts were written. And when for some time the Huns had been encamped in the lands around Edessa, and the allies were guarding the city and had driven back the assault of the enemies, the girl became pregnant from the union with the Goth. Now the time for her labor had not yet come, and the Huns, since they could do nothing of what they had hoped in the way of capturing the city, and the allies and helpers wanted to return to Rome. When

therefore, the Goth also was prepared to depart with the Romans, the mother was grieved at the separation from her child, and her heart was rent. Hence she clung to the child and would not allow her to depart with the Goth, although she could not hold her back, for the woman wished to follow her husband by the law of marriage and of nature.

XVIII. The Martyrdom of St. Gurias and His Companions

When then, they were embarking, the mother took her and reached the coffer of the confessors, and said to the Goth: "I will not entrust my child to your faith," she said, "unless, touching this precious coffer of those who suffered for Christ, you give me them as guarantors that you will not only do nothing hurtful to the child, but also that you will provide her with such care as is fitting." ^B And the Goth, immediately, as if ordered to do that which was easiest of all and completely devoid of fear, said: "From your hands, O saints, I receive the maiden, and I give you to the mother as guarantors, that she will suffer no harm from me, but rather will have me ready to fulfill her heart's desires in everything she might wish." Not only this did the villain do, but he also swore by the great power of God that he would keep his promises in deed. The mother, therefore, having accepted the oath, cried out to the martyrs: "To you, O saints, after God,I entrust the child, and through you to the Goth." Having prayed to God for these things, the mother embraced and clung to the child most lovingly and returned home, while the Goth set out on the journey with the child. Then, having arrived at the region from which the Goth had set out, when they were already near his house, that inhuman man, having forgotten his love for his wife, and having despised ^C his oaths and the covenants, and having cast away from himself the fear of God—O, how far wickedness proceeds!—he took away her garments and also took away her gold, and having covered her in rags like a slave in disgrace, he said: "For me, O woman, there are children and a wife. Therefore, call yourself a slave captured in war, and submit yourself in every way to my wife, and obey her, honoring and calling her mistress. For if you disclose how our affairs stand, or if you disobey the will of my wife, death shall be your punishment."

XIX. How His Wife Was Affected

How do you suppose a woman felt about these things, having been stripped of her mother, stripped of her country, of all friends and kinsfolk, and looking only to the soul of that man—and seeing such an end to those long hopes? Certainly, if she had not been stone, if she had not been iron, or some other inanimate thing, having been stricken by the unexpectedness of what she heard, she would have immediately given up her soul. But the mother's guarantors ^D were saving her, whom the mother had received from the Goth for the ill of his own wretched head, but as a demonstration of their own greatest grace. Therefore, groaning profoundly and sighing from the depth of her soul, she said: "To Thee, O Lord, and to Thy unspeakable mercy, I give thanks for all these things." Then, having turned also to the Goth: "May it be well with you," she said,

^A in that, though you could have destroyed us, you were content with this alone, to make a slave of one who was free. You have fulfilled your promises with deeds; you have confirmed your oaths in actuality. What then remains for me, but to call upon those above all others who were witnesses at the time, whom you yourself then cited as witnesses to the things said by you? For it was in them, and in no other, that I trusted when I decided of my own accord to separate myself from my kin, to leave the one who bore me, and to determine to follow you alone."

Having said these things, lifting the eyes of her soul along with her physical ones to heaven, she said with laments and tears, "O God of my fathers, stand by me in my misery, and see what this man promised under oath to Thee, to Thy saints, and to Thy confessors, and what he now does in reality. Deliver us from these present evils, receiving Thy martyrs as intercessors for us, for it is in them, after Thee, that I have trusted in order to endure these present afflictions."

When the girl had thus silently besought God, and they had entered the Goth’s house, his wife, upon seeing the girl and discerning the beauty that was in her, was filled in her soul with jealousy and suspicion. ^B Consequently, she asked her husband who this was, where she came from, and why he was bringing her with him. He replied that she was a captive brought from Edessa, and that she was brought to serve her. But she, paying more attention to her appearance than to his words, said, "The character of her countenance does not at all denote a slave." And the Goth said, "But you be sure to use her as a maidservant."

XX. From then on the girl kept silence by reason of fear, and performed the tasks commanded with all haste; for she had no idea what she could possibly do to be freed from the evils pressing upon her. But she kept saying to the saints incessantly in her heart: "Hasten to the aid of your handmaid, O saints, hasten; and do not overlook the deceit practiced against me." The girl’s mistress, not legitimate in her household, was moved with jealousy toward her, treated the girl harshly, and imposed heavier tasks upon her, as if she found a personal solace for the envy that burned within her in the girl's toils. ^C And what was the greatest ill of all was that she would not even vouchsafe to speak to her.

As time went on, when she learned that the girl was pregnant, the flame of her jealousy was kindled even more, and she demanded of her the most grievous work. Why this? Because she was eager to witness the death of the girl through the miscarriage of the fetus before its time. But the power of Christ, and of those who suffered for Christ’s sake, was unconquerable, through which the girl both overcame the hardships and remained entirely unharmed by the evils. When the time of her travails came, she gave birth to a male child, who preserved in himself the image of the father and was in all respects like the Goth. When the Goth’s wife saw this, and realized the precision of the resemblance, she revolved nothing else in her mind but how she might kill the child. ^D She said to her husband, "I could never believe you that you did not lie with this girl; for what has been born from her openly confesses its father, using its form just as a tongue." He, however, maintained that she was not speaking the truth; yet he ordered her to use her as

an ancilla, saying: "Let this be the proof of my faith, that I have never been with her. For never would she have been delivered into your power by me at all. For loves knit friendships together, they do not unknit them."

^A XXI. Then, however, the one who for a long time has been the enemy of the human race, approaching the wife of the Goth, stirred her up with fury against the infant; and because of this, she conceived labor and brought forth iniquity. Having placed a certain poison in her bosom, she sends the mother of the child away to do something that was necessary about the house. And she goes out to accomplish what had been commanded; but she [the wife of the Goth] puts the poison into the mouth of the child, and death followed the poison immediately. A little while later, therefore, the mother having returned, and having found the child dead, and the poison ^B spread upon his lips, she is struck in her heart and suffers greatly in her soul; yet she hides her grief in secret, suffering as a mother, but keeping it inside as a sensible and prudent woman. Then, having taken a piece of fleece, and having wiped the mouth of the infant, she kept the wool for herself, wishing to know the truth by means of experience. Well, a few days later, when the Goth had invited some of his friends and relatives to a banquet, the maiden seizes the opportunity and rinses the wool in the cup, and hands it to the Goth's wife, wishing, as I said, to know the truth, whether the child had been destroyed by poison, or if she had lost him by a timely death. For she thought indeed that if, upon drinking the medicine, she lived, it would be evident that the child, too, had not been killed by poison; but if it should kill her, she would experience exactly what she herself had done. Since, therefore, the Goth’s wife suspected nothing evil, she accepts it and drinks from the cup; and immediately the labor turned into her head, and iniquity descended upon her crown, and she fell into the pit which she had made; and she was justly caught in the snare which she had hidden. And indeed she lay dead, her body stretched out, bearing fruits worthy of her labors. But sadness had taken hold of the Goth, his relatives, and those who were related to him; a loathsome gloom and dejection filled the whole house because of this premature death of his wife. Yet she is mourned by them as was appropriate, she is deemed worthy of a brilliant funeral, ^C and she is buried with great expense.

XXII. But when seven days had passed after the funeral, and they had spent enough time in sorrow, the thought came to them that it was by the machinations of the captive that their relative had died. From this it came about that they wanted to hand her over to the governor, so that she might be made away with by him; for it was not permitted for them to attack anyone with the sword. But since he happened to be away, they themselves, having deliberated among themselves, lock her in the tomb where the Goth’s wife had been buried; and they secure the grave with a rough stone, and set guards over it. But as the stench of the corpse reached her, and she was filled with great distress, "Lord God of hosts," the girl said, "you who receive ^D the blood shed for you by your martyrs and confessors as a worthy sacrifice, look upon

me. I entrusted myself to an unknown man, a foreigner, for your name and for the name of the saints who suffered for you, and for this reason I have been sentenced to this torture. Grant me help from yourself, and deliver me from this present danger. And you, saints of Christ, who endured those thousand trials for his sake and confessed him to be the living God before kings—you whom the Goth provided to my mother as guarantors for me—now stand by me as helpers in my distress, and do not overlook her who has dedicated herself to you."

When she had prayed thus, the guarantors did not delay, nor did they put off bringing her help; but she saw three men surrounded by an inaccessible light, and the stench was immediately turned into a sweet fragrance, so that a wonderful and pleasant odor came upon her. "Take courage, woman," they said to her, "and do not fear. You shall quickly attain your salvation, having suffered nothing severe, nor anything unpleasant; for we shall not make our guarantee false, nor shall we use delay ^B regarding your salvation."

XXIII. When the saints had spoken these things to her, she at once, as if having departed from herself, dissolved into sleep. And by the invincible power of God and of those who had confessed him—oh, miracle worthy of God's kindness and power!—just as the prophet Habakkuk was once in a moment of time transported from Jerusalem to Babylon, or as the disciple Philip was snatched away by the Spirit from the presence of the Ethiopian eunuch, in the same way she too, while sleeping, is transported from the tomb and restored to the temple of the confessors and martyrs. Being thus restored to this temple of the martyrs, when sleep had left her at dawn, she sees the confessors of Christ standing by her again, saying, "Do you know where you are now?" Having looked around here and there, and as if having returned to herself and recognized the house of prayer of the martyrs, she was filled with all joy and was affected with great ^C wonder. She rejoiced at what she saw; she was amazed in her mind, thinking; she could not believe it; she did not know what might have happened. Finally, she falls at the feet of the saints and gives them thanks. They said to her, "Behold, the matter of our guarantee is fulfilled. Go in peace to your mother." And they immediately vanished from her sight. But she, approaching their reliquary and embracing it ardently, and shedding tears mixed with both joy and fear, said, "Our God in heaven and on earth has done all things that he wished; he has sent from heaven and saved me. Blessed are you, Lord, who save those who put their hope in you. In the evening weeping lodged with me, and in the morning there is rejoicing."

XXIV. Consequently, when the priest who was in the temple saw the girl for a sufficiently long time extending her prayers with tears and heard her prayers of thanksgiving, ^D being puzzled

^A he approached her and inquired into the cause for which she was lamenting while she prayed, and why she shed so many tears, and for whom she was offering thanks. She narrated to him the whole affair: how she had been joined in marriage to the Goth by her mother, how she had departed with him, putting her trust in the oaths he had given, how the child born to her by the Goth had been destroyed by poison, how she had been shut up in a sepulcher, what fortune she had experienced, and what manner of deliverance she had obtained from the saints. When the priest heard these things, he was beside himself, and was perplexed by the magnitude of the miracle, his mind being divided between disbelief and faith. Hence, desiring to have the account of her more perfectly confirmed, he inquired who the girl’s mother was and from what house she had come. When she had answered the priest these things, he kept the girl in the temple and sent for her mother. When she had arrived at the oratory and suddenly caught sight of her daughter standing by the priest, she first embraced her and kissed her warmly, as maternal affection naturally dictates. Then they remained silent for a long time, their ^B grief suppressing their voices and their tears interrupting their speech; for the mother’s soul was crushed to see her daughter in servile garments and appearance, and the daughter, in turn, was wounded in her heart because, having been separated from her mother with bright expectations, she had returned so ignominiously that the very sight of her was enough to provoke pity. When the mother had with difficulty pulled herself together from that bitter confusion, she inquired of the maiden what had happened to her, how she had returned, and what had caused her to be dressed so servilely. She related to her mother everything concerning her just as it had happened, things that, after her deliverance, were pleasant both to tell and to hear. When the mother thereafter had learned from her the wonders that God and his confessors and martyrs had worked upon her daughter, the saving house of the martyrs held both of them for that entire day as they praised the Lord. When evening came, they left the temple and returned to their own home. On the following day, the story of what had happened was disseminated everywhere, and a multitude ^C flocked to the girl and those who belonged to her, glorifying God along with her, and the saints who had suffered for his sake.

XXV. Some time later, God, the Lord of vengeance, revealed himself; the One who judges the earth was exalted and rendered requital to the proud. For when the Huns had joined themselves to the Persians and were still making incursions into the regions around Edessa, an army was again sent by the Romans to the Edessenes for their assistance. Among them was the Goth, a man of great wickedness, and he came once again to the woman’s house. He came confidently, as a son-in-law to the house of his mother-in-law, suspecting nothing of the fact that the crimes he had committed in secret had been made manifest. When, therefore, the mother of the maiden learned of his arrival, she shut her daughter in ^D an inner house, thinking the matter

than might seem proper for a woman to attempt. She receives him with joy, inquiring how he himself is, how her daughter completed the road to his house, how she was preserved, and how she gave birth while she was pregnant, and whether what was born was male or female. "For I," she says, "was very anxious about you, lest something grievous should happen to you on the way, and especially to my daughter, who was pregnant and already at the time of giving birth." The Goth, however, as one who did not offer answers based on deeds he had performed, but on those which the ineffable goodness had ordained, said: "Everything, he said, has gone well according to your prayers. Without any trouble we finished the journey with your daughter, and she reached my house cheerfully; she has given birth to a male child, and she herself is now hale and happy and sends you many greetings through me. Were it not that I had suddenly sent for help, she herself would also have returned to you with me."

^B XXVI. When the mother heard these things, she was filled with rage and her insides churned, abhorring the good words that were smeared over unjust deeds. Then, no longer able to bear the righteous anger which insulted such manifest iniquity, she roared against the man, who was in every respect utterly unjust, and said: "O fraudulent man and murderer, what have you done with my daughter? Is this what you promised me under oath? Is it for this that you gave me as sureties and witnesses those who suffered for Christ? But they themselves, whom you gave as sureties, they will surely punish you for your evil intent and will take vengeance for these unjust schemes. I shall call to vindication those whom you once accepted as sureties." When she had said these things, she brought the daughter out from the house; and pointing her out to the Goth, she said: "Do you know who this is, O impious one? Do you know her, and do you know where you shut her in, and to what kind of death you wished to surrender her, having revered neither nature, nor laws, nor that great oath given by you? But Christ's confessors and martyrs, Samonas, Gurias, and Abibus, to whom I, trusting, committed her ^C to your barbarous hand, they, beyond all hope, preserved her for me and restored her to my arms."

XXVII. When the Goth heard these things and saw the girl standing there, his voice was extinguished by shame and fear: he was mute, unable even to open his mouth. Then, since the proof was precise and it was manifest that he had acted thus against the girl, those present gave him no opportunity to speak and safely locked him up. The mother, however, with her daughter, having brought a scribe and recounted all that had occurred, handed it over to the most holy bishop of Edessa (who was Eulogius). And he, when he had read it through, went with the entire clergy to the commander of the city and delivered the document to him. And he, when he had read what was written, was first moved by wonder and held the matter as a miracle, and praised the God of all, who through His martyrs this new and truly

astonishing act, which deafens the ears of all men, has performed. Then he was fiercely carried away against the Goth, who had dared such a crime. Being angered, therefore, the governor seats the bishop beside himself, and then brings the Goth and the young woman forward. And in the hearing of the whole crowd—and a great crowd had indeed flocked together—he orders the matters concerning the Goth to be read. ^A When they were read, he asked the Goth if these things were true. And he (for what could one do when being clearly convicted by himself and by the truth? He confessed that none of these things was false) acknowledged them, and sought mercy for them. And the governor said, "Wicked one and parricide, why did you not fear even the judgment of God, nor the eye of Him whom nothing eludes, even if it were possible to elude men? Why did you not respect your oath? Why did you not revere the laws of the Romans, in embarking upon such a most unholy crime? ^B Since, therefore, you have been convicted of despising all these things, you will be punished with a heavier retribution." He spoke, and commanded his head to be cut off with the sword, and his body to be cast into the fire, so that not even his dust should be a partaker of dust, nor should he be given to the universal mother of all, having shown such behavior toward his own kin.

XXVIII. ^C While the soldiers were taking hold of the mandate, the bishop, who was God's friend, besought the governor to show the man as much mercy as was fitting, so that he might not perish in his own madness. But he said, "I fear the martyrs of Christ, whom this man gave as his sureties. For since he has lied to them, if I do not exact from him just penalties for what he has dared, they will surely inflict the punishment that is due, not upon him, but upon me; and otherwise he will cause many others to act similarly, if he has not paid a just penalty for what has preceded." ^D Since the bishop persisted more and made a more fervent intercession on behalf of the man, the governor removed the fire from the punishment, but insisted on the beheading by sword. The soldiers, therefore, receiving the Goth and leading him outside the city, cut off his head with the sword according to what had been ordered them. Upon this, praise was offered by all to the Savior Christ and to the martyrs who had suffered for Him, as was fitting; because He gave back retribution to the proud, to the glory of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

LIFE AND MARTYRDOM OF THE HOLY AND GLORIOUS MARTYR OF CHRIST, CECILIA, AND THOSE WHO WERE WITH HER, THE HOLY VALERIAN, TIBURTIUS, AND MAXIMUS.

I. The descent of our Savior and God from the heavens reconciled great blessings to the human race. For when He was God from God, and existed in the form of God, He who begot Him impassibly, "He did not deem it robbery to be equal to God: but He emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men, and appearing in habit as a man; He humbled Himself, becoming obedient unto death, even the death of the cross," ^A that He might destroy him who held the power of death, that is, the devil; and, leading all humanity by the hand, might raise it to the heavens through His precious and divine doctrine. Therefore, the first of all to follow Him were the holy apostles; after the apostles, the martyrs; after the martyrs, the confessors; after the confessors, the priests; after the priests, the virgins; after the virgins, the widows; after the widows, the merciful. And to speak at once, the workshop of Christ’s medicine was open to all who approached. Therefore, He calls out daily through His holy evangelists: "Come to Me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will refresh you."

II. When Cecilia, the most illustrious and glorious virgin, had heard this venerable and most sweet voice, and had believed in Him, she always carried the hidden Gospel of Christ in her heart, and ceased not, neither by night nor by day, to read the divine oracles and to pray to God. This blessed Cecilia therefore had a certain youth named Valerian as her betrothed; that youth, inflamed with love for the virgin, had fixed the day of their nuptials. Cecilia, however, wore a hairshirt under her clothes, but on the outside she was adorned with golden garments. For although her parents and her bridegroom wished for these things, she was so consumed in body that she could not hide the desire of her heart, and she indicated by appropriate riddles that she was captivated by the love of Christ the Savior alone. But not long after, the day arrived on which the bridal chamber was prepared: and while there was a symphony of instruments, she sang in her heart to God alone, saying: "Let my heart and my body be immaculate in Thy justifications, O Lord, that I may not be confounded." ^B Remaining fasting, she abstained from food for two or three days; remaining also and praying, she commended herself to the Lord with prayers: she invoked the angels of the Lord, she besought the apostles with tears, and she prayed to all the holy handmaidens of Christ that they might confirm her with their supplications, commending her chastity to the Lord.

III. But after these things were done, the night came: in which, having obtained quiet and silence with her spouse in a separate chamber, she spoke to him thus: "Dearest youth, I have a secret which I will disclose to you, if you affirm to me with an oath that you will keep everything silent." Her spouse Valerian swore that he would not betray that which was said by any treachery whatsoever, nor would he reveal it, by whatever necessity he might be compelled. Then she answered, saying: "I want you to know that I have an angel of God as my friend, who guards my body with the utmost zeal. If he suspects even the least that you soil me with unchaste love, he will immediately kindle his wrath against you, and will destroy the flower of your graceful youth. But if he knows that you are held by a simple and immaculate love for me, and that you guard my virginity intact and undefiled, he will love you just as he loves me, and will show you his grace." Then Valerian, by the inspiration of God, being struck with fear, says: "If you wish, O dearest one, that I believe the things you say, show me the angel himself; and if I understand him to be truly an angel, ^C I will do what you exhort; but if you love another man, I will kill both you and him with the sword." Then blessed Cecilia says to him: "If you wish to obey my counsels, O dearest youth, and promise to be cleansed in the eternal laver of regeneration, and believe in one true God who lives in the heavens, you can behold him." Valerian says to her: "And who is he who will cleanse me, so that I may see the angel?" Cecilia answered and said: "There is an old man in a certain place who knows well how to cleanse men, so that they may be made worthy to behold the angels." Valerian said to her: "And where shall I seek this old man?" Cecilia answered: "Go to the third milestone from the city on the road which is called the Appian way: there you will find the poor, who seek their sustenance from passersby, from them

you shall learn that I am cared for; they are indeed participants in my alms. When you see them, give them my blessing, saying: 'Cecilia sent me to you, so that you might show me the holy old man Urban, for I have secret responses from her to deliver to him.' When you see him, tell him all that I have said to you, and when he has purified you, he will clothe you in new and splendid garments, with which you will immediately come to this room, and you will see the holy angel, who will become your friend, and whatever you ask of him, you will find."

^B The angel, having brought them from the paradise of God, gave one crown to Cecilia and the other to Valerian, saying: "Keep these crowns with an immaculate heart and a pure body; I have brought them to you from the paradise of God. This, moreover, shall be a sign for you: they shall never wither for you, nor ever lose the sweetness of their fragrance, nor shall they ever be able to be seen by others, except by those to whom chastity is as pleasing as it has been proven to be pleasing to you. And because you, O Valerian, have consented to the counsel of chastity, the Lord Jesus Christ has sent me to you, that you may receive whatever petition you wish." When he had heard this, he worshipped and said: "There is nothing in this life sweeter to me than the presence of my dearest and only brother. Wherefore I would deservedly be accused of impiety, if, having been freed from the error of idols, I should overlook my elder brother in danger of perdition. This one thing of all I propose as a petition, and I humbly contend that He may deign to deliver my brother Tiburtius, as he has me, and make us both perfect in the confession of His name." When the angel had heard this, he said with a joyful countenance: "Since you have asked of Christ what is more honest, he shall worship God, just as you do. For just as the Lord has brought you to gain through the handmaid Cecilia, so through you He will also gain your brother, and with him you will come to the contest of martyrdom."

Then Valerian departed, and conforming to the signs which he had received from the blessed Cecilia herself, he found the holy bishop Urban, who, having been a confessor for the second time, was lying hidden among the monuments of the holy martyrs. After he had told him all that Cecilia had said, Urban was affected with great joy, and with knees bent to the ground, and hands extended to heaven, he said with tears: "Lord Jesus Christ, holy and good pastor, your handmaid Cecilia, as a lamb exercised by many labors, is dedicated to you, since she has received her spouse, who previously could not be restrained as a lion, and has rendered him most mild toward you, as a lamb. For had he not believed, he would not have come to us. Open, Lord, the door of his heart with your words, so that when he knows You are his Maker and Lord, he may renounce the devil and his works, and his deceits." ^C While the holy bishop Urban was praying these and similar things, an old man suddenly appeared before him, clothed in garments as white as snow, holding in his hands a scroll inscribed with golden letters. When Valerian saw him, he was stupefied, and falling to the ground, he became as one dead. Then the old man raised him up, saying: "Read, O son, the contents of this book, that you may be held worthy to be cleansed and to see the angel, whose presence the virgin Cecilia has promised you with ready zeal of spirit." Then Valerian, with eyes fixed, began to read in it. And this was the writing that was on the scroll: "One God, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all, and in all. Amen."*

V. After he had read these things to himself, the priest said to him: "Do you believe, son, that these things are so, or do you still doubt?" Then Valerian cried out with a loud voice: "There is truly nothing else under heaven that can be believed more truly." After Valerian had said these things, that old man vanished from his eyes. Then Saint Urban, having admonished him and instructed him in the catechism, baptized him in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and when he had taught him the whole rule of the faith, he dismissed him to Cecilia, with strong foundations having been laid. But when Valerian had come in his white garments, he found Cecilia praying in her room, and the angel of the Lord standing near her, shining with flaming wings, and with a sparkling appearance, having two crowns in his hands resplendent with roses and lilies.

VI. These words being finished, the form of the angelic vision was taken up into the heavens, and while they were rejoicing in Christ and speaking of holy edification, Tiburtius, the brother of Valerian, approached, and having entered, he kissed the head of Saint Cecilia as his sister-in-law, and said: "I am amazed at smelling such roses and lilies at this time. For if I held the roses and lilies themselves in my hands, they could not offer me such a sweet fragrance. I confess to you, O dearest ones, that I have so returned to myself that I think I am suddenly renewed entirely." Valerian said to him: "You have received a good fragrance, O brother, when I begged God that you might receive it. But you, now believing, shall also receive the amaranthine crown of incorruption, and rejoice in the rose-colored flower itself, and in your mind perceive Him whose blood blooms in the roses, and whose body and soul whiten in the lilies. We have crowns, indeed, which your eyes cannot perceive, resplendent with the fiery redness of the rose and the whiteness of snow." Tiburtius said to him: "Do I hear these things in a dream, or do you speak truthfully, O brother Valerian?" Valerian answered: "We have lived in a dream until now, O dearest brother. For now, by the grace and will of God, we are in all truth, and there is no lie in us. For the gods whom we have worshipped until now are truly evil and unclean demons." Tiburtius said to him: "How have you known this, O brother?" Valerian answered: "The angel of God has taught me, whom you also will be able to behold, if you are clean from all the filth of idols." Tiburtius said to him:

^A If it is possible that I too might behold the angel of God, and while we seek the divinity that lies hid in the heavens, what is the delay for purification? Valerian answered: "None; but promise me only this, that renouncing all detestable and abominable idols, you believe that there is one God in the heavens." Tiburtius said: "I do not understand to what end you propose these things to me."

VII. Saint Cecilia says: That you might understand that they are forms of earthenware, and plaster, and wood, and bronze, and of any metal; and do not say that they are gods in whom spiders live, and birds discharge their dung: in whose heads storks are accustomed to nest, which condemned men make when they are sent to the mines because of their crimes. Since, therefore, they receive their beginning from condemned men, how can they be esteemed or believed to be gods? For between the dead and the idols there is no difference. For as a dead man has indeed all his limbs, but cannot have spirit or voice, nor sense, so also these vain idols have indeed the names of gods, but are known to be unhappy, evil, and earthly things. Indeed, they are shown to be dead men, since they also have limbs like those of humans. For as long as they lived, they looked with eyes, and heard with ears, and walked with feet, and spoke with mouths, and touched with hands, and smelled with nostrils: yet they departed from death, and remain in eternal death, because they are shown to be such as never lived, or could have lived. Then Tiburtius said with all compunction: He who does not believe thus is a brute, and comes not into judgment. Wherefore I also say with all truth that there is no other God except the God of the Christians, and that I henceforth will worship and adore Him alone. When Tiburtius said this, Saint Cecilia kissed his chest and said: "Truly today I confess that you are clearly my brother. For just as the love of God made your brother my husband, so also the contempt of idols has made you my brother. Wherefore, since you are prepared to believe in our Lord Jesus Christ, go quickly with your brother, that you may receive the purification itself through holy baptism: through whom you shall also deemed worthy to behold angelic persons, and to find forgiveness for all your sins."

VIII. Then Tiburtius says to his brother: "I ask you, brother, that you tell me to whom you are going to lead me." Valerian answered: "To a perfect man, by name Urban, in whom there is an angelic appearance, adorned with gray hair, true speech, and distinguished prudence." Tiburtius says to him: "Do you mean that Urban whom the Christians call their pope? I hear that he has already been condemned, and again, because of that very ^B action for which he was condemned, he preaches his religion secretly with fear. If it happens that he is found, he will without doubt be consigned to the fire, and we too shall be punished with him if we are found walking to him; and while we seek the divinity that lies in the heavens, we shall fall into the wrath that is kindled on earth." Saint Cecilia says to him: "If this life were the only one, and there were no other, we would justly fear to lose the things that are here. But since there is another life, which is much better and more sublime than this, and can never end, why do we fear to lose this one, when through the loss of it we approach that one?" Tiburtius answered: "I have never before heard that there is another life besides this one." Cecilia says to him: "Now know this for certain, O dearest, that as long as we live in this world, we lead a life laborious and full of pain, in straits and afflictions: since humors inflame, labors diminish, fevers dry up, the air continually induces catarrh, foods bloat, fasts are burdensome, games dissolve, anxieties constrain, negligence destroys, riches cast down, poverty expels, youth renders one proud, old age bends one over, feebleness depresses, anger disturbs; and among all these things death cuts down with threats, and thus imposes an end to all bodily joys, so that, departing from that which is to be, one is not even thought to have been. For nothing is held to be of account henceforth, whatever is not. But that eternal life, succeeding this frail and miserable and short life, is given to the wicked and the unjust with eternal afflictions and torments: but eternal joy and exultation is offered to the just."

IX. To these things Tiburtius answered and said: "And who is it who has been there, and coming from there to here, was able to announce these things to us, so that we might be able to believe them to be true?" Then blessed Cecilia arising, stood, and with great boldness spoke thus: "The Creator of heaven and earth and sea and all birds that fly in the air, and of quadrupeds and reptiles, out of Himself, before He made all things, begat the Son, and brought forth from His power the Holy Spirit: the Son, that He might make all things; the Holy Spirit, that He might give life to all things. And all things which were made, the Son begotten of the Father constructed, and all things which had been constructed, the Holy Spirit proceeding from the Father animated." Tiburtius says to her: "Up until now it has been said that one must believe that there is one God in the heavens. How then do you now testify that there are three gods?" Saint Cecilia answered and said: "There is one God in His power, whom we thus divide in the Holy Trinity, just as we say that art, memory, and intelligence are in one man; since by art we find that which we have not learned, by memory and intelligence we comprehend if it ever happens that we contemplate or hear something. What then shall we do? Does not one intelligence possess these three in man? If therefore man in one intelligence possesses the name of the three significations, how does not God almighty possess the power of the Trinity in one and the same divinity?" Then Tiburtius, when he had fallen to the ground, began to cry out and say: "Truly, O dearest, it does not seem to me that a human tongue could give this answer, but I surmise that the angel of God has spoken through your mouth," and he gave great thanks that quickly

one God in three persons had been openly proven to him.

X. And so, turning to her brother, he said: "I confess that I have been satisfied regarding the one God, but I would like to know about my question, as I began before." Saint Cecilia said to him: "Speak to me of that, since the brevity of time is an impediment to your brother, preventing him from giving an answer. As for me, however, since Christ's wisdom has taught me from my tenderest years, you will not be able to find me unprepared, no matter what you wish to ask me." Tiburtius says to her: "I recently asked this, and I ask it now as well: Who is the one who comes hither from among those there, to show us another life than that which you preach?" Saint Cecilia said: "The Father sent His only-begotten Son into the world through the holy Virgin Mary; standing upon the holy mountain, He cried out with a loud voice, saying: 'Come unto Me, all ye peoples, and I will give you eternal life.' And every flesh, every age, every race of human beings ran to Him. Then He said to all: 'Repent for the sake of your ignorance, for the kingdom of God has drawn near, which will dispel the kingdom of men.' ^B But God wishes His kingdom to be seen by those who believe, in which He exists more sublimely. There, the sinners indeed will be consumed in eternal pains and fire that never ends: but the righteous will receive the light of eternal glory and joy, which never experiences any end. For the rest, do not, O children of men, seek the fleeting joy of this life, so that you may possess the joy of that eternal life which follows this life. For in this life you live for a short time; but in that one, forever."

XI. When all the infidel peoples had heard these things, they said with one voice: "And who was there, and how, when He had come from there to here, could He teach that these things which You say are true?" Then the Son of God said to them: "If I show you that the dead have risen, do you not believe the truth?" But that no trace of doubt or suspicion might remain, He went out with the peoples to the sepulchers, and He restored to the dead—who were three and four days old and already rotting—the life which they had lost, as God. He crossed the sea, walking upon the waves without wetting His feet. He commanded the winds, He chastened the waves, and He calmed the storms and tumults that were aroused. He gave sight to the blind, He restored withered hands to health, He gave movement to the lame, speech to the mute, and hearing to the deaf. He cured the paralytic with a word, He cleansed the leper with a command, He healed the infirm, He restored the lunatics, and He put demons to flight. But when the narrow-minded and impious Pharisees and Chief Priests envied Him—because the peoples, abandoning them, were following in His footsteps, spreading their garments before His feet and crying: "Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord" — the Pharisees, stirred to anger against Him, delivered Him bound to a certain governor, Pilate. They—incited by the Pharisees—called Him a magician and an impious man, and ^C excited a sedition among the people so that they might fasten Him to the cross. But He, foreknowing this, for the salvation of the world permitted Himself to be apprehended and mocked, to be afflicted with insults, to be scourged and put to death. For He knew, as God, that not otherwise than through His precious and chaste passion would He render the devil captive, and inflict evil punishments upon the evil and unclean spirits.

XII. Therefore, He was apprehended who did not commit sin, so that the human race might be liberated, which was held bound in the chain of sin. He who is blessed was under a curse, so that He might free us from the curse; He endured illusions, that He might liberate us from the illusion of the demons who wander in this world. He accepted the crown of thorns upon His head, so that He might revoke the capital sentence which had been laid upon us because of the thorns of sins. He accepted gall in His food, so that He might change the sweet taste of the first man, whence death had entered into the world. He was given vinegar to drink, so that He might take upon Himself the sharpness—by which our blood boiled—and drink this cup of passion which was owed to our vices. He was stripped naked, so that He might cover the nakedness of our parents (which they suffered by the counsel of the serpent) with the garment of snow-white virtue. He was hung on the tree, so that He might abolish the transgression of the tree through the passion of the wood of His cross. He permitted death to come to Him, that as it struggled with Him, it might be wounded, and that it might lose the kingdom which it had found through the serpent; and with the serpent itself wounded, it became captive through Christ. Wherefore all the elements, when they saw their Creator lifted up on the cross, trembled with great fear. For on one side the earth was moved, and on the other, temples and rocks were broken; the day fled; the sun was terrified and, obscured, covered the whole world in darkness; the moon covered the splendor of its light with a blood-red cloud; the stars of heaven resplendent with light, all were changed at once. The earth creaked, and as if giving birth, it began to give up many saints from their sepulchers: who indeed gave this testimony, that the Savior's descent into Hades dissolved the kingdom of the devil, and that He, though dead, afflicted death with ignominy, and bound it, having struck it, and subjected it to the feet of His servants. From this it is clear that we rejoice and glory in persecutions for His name's sake, because this life of ours—which is for a time and into which destruction falls—is followed by an eternal life that never ceases: which the Son of God, when He had risen from the dead, showed to His apostles, before whose eyes He was taken up into the heavens.

XIII. If, therefore, He had shown this in a gathering of three, the thoughts of those who understand could not doubt. How much more [is this true], since He deigned to show Himself not only to the twelve disciples, but to more than five hundred at once, leaving not even a trace of any doubt? They

who were initiated into these things, being sent into all the world to preach, confirmed their preaching with signs and great wonders. For they cured all infirmities in His name, drove out demons, and restored life to the dead. I do not think any question remains for you, except that you should despise this life in spirit and body, and seek that one vehemently and constantly. For he who believes in the Son of God, and adheres to His precepts, when he dies, his body shall be afflicted by no injury from death, but shall be received in the arms of the holy angels and led away into the place of paradise. Hence death, together with the devil, brings it about that he gathers the minds of men with various depravities, and occupies them in various unperceived necessities; and now he affects them with the terror of loss, now he incites them to gluttony, withdrawing them from ^A diverse pursuits, and making miserable men anxious about this life alone, so that, departing from the body, he finds them miserable and naked, bearing nothing with them but sins. This I have explained to you in a few words, O dearest one. But if you think anything is missing, ask again.

Meanwhile, those who were accustomed to being hated by the wicked for these things, the wicked accused before Almachius, the prefect of the city, reporting all the things which the Lord was doing through them for the needy: and that they were wickedly and maliciously committing to burial those whom he ordered to be killed. Therefore, having been seized by the military cohort, they were brought to the prefect Almachius. Almachius addressed them with these words: "Since your character has rendered you distinguished by the glory of nobility, why, for the sake of I know not what religion, do you render yourselves ignoble and wretched? For I hear that you have spent your wealth on I know not what base persons, and commit to burial with all glory those who have been punished for their crimes. Wherefore, it is possible to suspect that you have been initiated into the same mysteries as those whom, on account of their conspiracy, you commit to burial." Tiburtius answered and said to the prefect: "Would that they might deign to enroll us in the number of their servants, of whom you conjecture us to be companions, who indeed have rejected that which is seen and is not, and have found that which does not appear to be, yet is."

XIV. Then Tiburtius, falling at his feet, said with sighs and weeping and tears: "If I should seek after this life anymore, even in thought, or ponder it in my mind, may I never be found in that life. Let the foolish, therefore, have the profit of the present time. But I, who until this day have lived without reason, God forbid that I should live my life without reason any longer!" And when he had said this, he turned toward his brother ^C and said: "Pity me, dear brother, and break off the delay, which I have spent in ignorance. Therefore I fear delays; I cannot bear the weight; I pray you, lead me to the man of God, so that, having been perfectly purified, he may make me a participant in that life." Then Valerianus led his brother to the most holy Pope Urban. After he narrated all things to him, as had been said and done, he gave thanks to the kind God. But having received Tiburtius with all joy and exultation, after he had admonished him, catechized him, and baptized him in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, he ordered him to remain with him until he should lay aside those things which are of the recent illumination. When indeed his doctrine had been perfected, after seven days he restored the soldier of Christ. And he obtained so much grace from Christ that he even saw the angels of God daily; and whatever he asked of God, he easily obtained. But since it would be long to set forth everything in order, how many and how great wonders the Lord did through them, let us turn to their glorious sufferings.

XV. Turcius, who was also Almachius, when he was prefect of the city and was putting to death the holy martyrs of God daily, ordered their bodies to be left unburied. Tiburtius and Valerianus, however, applied their efforts to this task daily, so that they might arrange the bodies of the saints for burial and commit them to the ground, being free for almsgiving and divine worship. ^D When they were engaged in these things, they were denounced by the wicked before Almachius, the prefect of the city, reporting all the things which the Lord was doing through them for the needy: and that they were wickedly and maliciously committing to burial those whom he ordered to be killed. Therefore, having been seized by the military cohort, they were brought to the prefect Almachius. Almachius addressed them with these words: "Since your character has rendered you distinguished by the glory of nobility, why, for the sake of I know not what religion, do you render yourselves ignoble and wretched? For I hear that you have spent your wealth on I know not what base persons, and commit to burial with all glory those who have been punished for their crimes. Wherefore, it is possible to suspect that you have been initiated into the same mysteries as those whom, on account of their conspiracy, you commit to burial." Tiburtius answered and said to the prefect: "Would that they might deign to enroll us in the number of their servants, of whom you conjecture us to be companions, who indeed have rejected that which is seen and is not, and have found that which does not appear to be, yet is."

XVI. The prefect Almachius said: "And what is that which is seen to be and is not?" Tiburtius said: "All things which are in the world, which call souls to eternal death through the joy of a short time." The prefect Almachius said: "And what is that which does not seem to be and is?" Tiburtius said: "The life which will be for the righteous, and the punishment which will be given to the unjust; for on both sides we have known that those things to come are true: and in that blessed distribution, which we know with the eyes of our heart, we refer it to be seen with the eyes of our body, so that we may obscure what is good in our conscience with evil reasonings." The prefect Almachius said: "I do not think you speak with your own mind." Tiburtius said: "I do not speak with my own mind, but with His, whom I have received in the bowels of my mind." The prefect Almachius said: "Do you know what you are saying?" Tiburtius said: "I both know, and have learned, and believe that all things which have been said by me remain." The prefect Almachius said: "And why do I not understand what I do, by whom these things were created?" Tiburtius said: "Because the animal man does not perceive the things which are of the Spirit. But the spiritual man judges all things; yet he himself is judged by no one." Then the prefect, laughing, ordered Tiburtius to be taken away; but Valerianus to be stood before him. To whom he also said: "Since your brother is not of sane mind, will you be able to answer more wisely?" Valerianus says to him: "Your ears are deceived, because you cannot understand the scope of our speech." The prefect said: "No one errs as you err, who, having abandoned the necessary numbers and responses, follow the evil, rejecting things which are pleasant, making nothing of joy, and despising those things which have been given for the nourishment of life, while with the greatest benevolence you embrace that which you find contrary to salvation, and hostile to those things which are pleasant."

^A XVII. To this Valerian answered: "As for those who laugh at our affliction, and who now revel in joy, they shall weep and lament when we rejoice; for now is the time of sowing. Therefore, those who sow in this life things which are temporary, shall reap eternal joy in that blessed and eternal life. The prefect said: "So then both we, and the invincible emperors, shall have eternal mourning; but you shall possess eternal joy?" Valerian replied: "What indeed are you, or your emperors? For when your time is fulfilled you shall die, and you shall have to render a greater account to God, the more power you were given by Him." The prefect Almachius said: "Why do we delay in turning words? Either offer incense to the gods and depart unharmed, or you shall live in misery and die a bitter death." Both answered and said: "We do not offer sacrifices to gods, but to God daily." The prefect said: "Who is this God to whom you say you offer your sacrifice?" The saints replied and said: "And who is another God besides Him? Why do you ask us about God? For is there another God besides the one?" The prefect said: "I ask for the name of the one whom you say is God." Valerian said: "You shall not find the name of God, even if you were able to fly with wings." The prefect said: "Is not the name of Jupiter, then, God?" Valerian said: "It is the name of a corrupter and an adulterer, whom your authors record as having been a murderer, and the Scriptures point out as the accuser of our faith. I am amazed at the impudence with which you have named this one as God, when no one can be called God unless he is alien to all sin, and is also full of omnipotence." The prefect said: "So the whole world errs, and you together with your brother alone have known the true God?" Valerian said: "An innumerable multitude of Christianity has received holiness. Indeed, you are the few, who have remained like boards from a shipwreck, proficient in nothing else than to be cast into the fire."

XVIII. To this the prefect said: "I see that you have indeed pursued these matters wisely, but you do not seem to answer my response." Valerian said: "You said that we are fools and senseless, who give our wealth to the needy, receive proselytes, supply what is necessary to widows, assist orphans, cover unburied bodies, and celebrate the depositions of martyrs with the greatest honor. Yet you judged us to be senseless and delirious, who do not rejoice with those who rejoice, nor live in pleasures; nor do we satisfy our lusts, nor are we ignobly looking with wanton and unchaste eyes, showing ourselves to be free and noble. The time will come when we shall receive a thousandfold the fruits of our affliction, and those who are now carried away by joys shall weep and laugh."

^B XIX. Then the angry prefect ordered him to be beaten with rods. But he, while he was immediately being beaten, began to say joyfully: "Behold the hour which I greatly desired, and behold a day more pleasant to me than any feast." While the blessed man was being beaten, the herald cried out in a loud voice: "Do not assail the gods and goddesses with curses!" But he cried out to the people, saying: "Men, citizens of the Romans, see to it that this blow does not turn you away from the truth, but stand firmly, and turn the stone and wooden gods, ^C which the prefect Almachius worships, into lime. For all who worship them shall be in eternal affliction and punishment." Then Tarquinius, who was sitting with the prefect, who was also called Laccas, said to the prefect in secret: "You have found a pretext, my lord; take them away from the earth as soon as possible. For if you delay, and drag it out from day to day, they will distribute all their wealth to the poor, and ^D when they have been punished, you will find nothing." Then the prefect, since that counsel pleased him, ordered the lictors to lead them away where the [temple of] Jupiter was...

and ordered that, unless both were willing to sacrifice to the image of Jupiter, they should together undergo the punishment of decapitation. Then the venerable and glorious martyrs of Christ, Valerian and Tiburtius, were led away by the chamberlain of Maximus the prefect to the place which is called the Pagus. And Maximus himself began to weep for them, and to say: "O precious and flourishing youth! O bond of great brotherhood! O pair most beautiful and noble! Why do you wish to cast yourselves into an evil and impious end, and hasten toward the greatest destruction, as though you were being called to a joyous, magnificent, and sumptuous banquet?" Then Tiburtius said: "If we had not truly learned that there is another eternal life which follows the present life, we would not rejoice to lose this one." Maximus says to them: "And what other life can there be?" Tiburtius answered and said: "Just as the body is clothed in garments, so also is the soul clothed in the body. And the body, like terrestrial seed, is sown through lust into an earthly womb: having been born, however, and nourished, and having fallen into the ruin of death and been turned into dust, it will be awakened like the phoenix in the likeness of future light. But the soul, if it be holy, will be carried into the delights of paradise, so that, flourishing in delights, it may await the time of its resurrection." Maximus says to them: "I myself would also wish to reject this life, if I could be made more certain of the things of which you speak." Valerian says to him: "Since you say that nothing remains for you except that you should prove those things to be true which we have said to you: at the very hour when the Lord shall cause us to put off the garment of the body in the glorious confession of his name, he will open your eyes, and will cause you to see with what glory that life is returned, provided that you promise us that you will come with your whole soul to the repentance of your error." ^A

XX. Then Maximus bound himself with an oath, saying: "May I be consumed by the flames of fire if I do not from this hour confess that only God who causes another life to follow after this one; show me only this, which you have promised." The holy martyrs Tiburtius and Valerian say to him: "Command the lictors that they bring us to your house, and we shall cause the purifier to come there to you, who, after you have been purified this night, will cause you to see that which we have promised you." And when Maximus had given orders to the lictors, they led them away to his house. By their preaching, Maximus himself, with all his family and the lictors themselves, believed in our Lord Jesus Christ. Then Saint Cecilia came to them by night with priests, and they were all baptized in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. But when the dawning morning had brought an end to the night, and a great silence had been made, Saint Cecilia said: "Be strong and of great courage, O soldiers of God; cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light. You have fought a good fight, you have finished your course, you have kept the faith. ^B For the rest, set out toward the crown of justice, which the just Judge will render unto you: and not only to you, but also to all those who love his advent." The place, however, which is called the Pagus, was situated at the fourth milestone from the city of Rome, to which one had to pass near the gate of the temple, so that whoever passed by there, unless they offered incense to the image of Jupiter, would be punished. But when the holy Tiburtius and Valerian had come to that place, they offered precious incense, offering their own accusers to God: and thus with bent knees, they were slain by the sword, and, having lost this fleeting and mortal body, they received the eternal crown of martyrdom, which cannot wither.

XXI. Then Maximus, swearing, said: "I saw the angels of God shining as the sun at the hour in which they were struck by the sword, and their souls departing from their bodies, like virgins from a bridal chamber." And when the angels had received them with their arms, they were carried to heaven with the sound of wings. As Maximus narrated these things with tears, many believed in our Lord Jesus Christ, and having turned from the error of idols, they surrendered themselves to the holy Vibianus as their teacher. But when the report reached Almachius, the prefect of the city, that Maximus the chamberlain along with all his household had become Christians, he ordered him to be beaten with leaden scourges until he should breathe his last. When Saint Cecilia, the martyr of Christ, had placed him near the holy martyrs of God Tiburtius and Valerian, she laid him in a tomb, and ordered that a phoenix be engraved on his tomb, to show his faith, he who had conceded that he would find the resurrection by the example of the phoenix. ^C

But after these things, an inquiry was made. For Almachius the prefect began to inquire after the property of both brothers, on account of which he wished to seek out also Saint Cecilia, as the wife of Valerian, and ordered her to be brought before him. And indeed, after she had faithfully distributed to the poor all that had remained of their property, he began to press her to offer incense. Then she said to the ministers who were pressing her to do this:

XXII. "Hear me, citizens and brothers: You are the ministers of your president, and it seems to you that you desire to be separate from his impiety. To me, however, it is glorious and most desirable to suffer all grievous things for the confession of Christ. For I have never determined to have any friendship with this life. But do not be solicitous concerning our youth, which you are about to render void of all care. Do, therefore, what has been commanded to you by the unrighteous president." Then they began to lament and complain that so elect a girl, and one so intelligent and noble, should desire to be killed: and they begged her, saying that she should not lose such beauty, nor turn such a form toward death. To whom, weeping and distressed with grief, the holy Cecilia responded thus: "This, O brothers, is not to lose youth, but to exchange it; to give clay

and to receive gold; to give a brief and ^A miserable tabernacle, and to receive a great, beautiful, and spacious house built of precious stones and gold; to give a dark corner, and to receive a bright place, shimmering with heavenly pearls; to give a possession that perishes, and to receive a possession that knows no end and ignores death; to give a miserable stone that you trample underfoot, and to receive a precious stone that shines in a royal diadem. Today, if someone were to offer you gold coins, so that for a small quantity of coins you might gleefully receive a profit, would you not all run willingly to such a trade, and bring with you all your parents, acquaintances, kinsmen, loved ones, relatives, and friends? If, however, someone were to turn you back as you were running, saying that you were all going to throw away your coins for nothing, would you not mock them as ignorant and knowing nothing, while you yourselves ran joyfully, since you were trading miserable, worthless brass for precious gold? And you indeed rejoice to give weight for weight; but God does not give weight for weight, but accepts the simple, and returns a hundredfold, and further, life eternal as well.

Do you not know what power I possess?" For if you were to ask me about your power, I would reveal it to you in true words. The prefect said to her: "Speak, if you know anything." The holy Cecilia said: "Every man’s power is just like a wineskin full of wind: if you prick it with needle, all its swelling collapses. Moreover, if it is found to carry anything in itself, it bends." The prefect said: "You began with an insult, and you persist in insults." The holy Cecilia said: "It is not called an insult, unless it is spoken to those who sin little, and moderation is not maintained. Wherefore, either instruct me on the insult, if I have spoken what is false, or punish yourself for undergoing judgment." ^B The prefect Almachius said: "Do you not know that our invincible lords, the emperors, have commanded that those who do not deny that they are Christians shall be punished, but those who do deny it shall be released?" The holy Cecilia said: "So your emperors have always been, just as your highness also is. For the sentence which proceeded from them, while it has testified that we are impious, it has shown us to be innocent. For if this name were evil, we indeed would have denied it. But you, as we confess, would have compelled us entirely." The prefect said: "In their piety they were able to ordain this, so that by their kindness, by granting life, they might show you favor." The holy Cecilia said: "Nothing is equally impious, and nothing indeed so inimical to innocence, as to inflict all manner of punishments upon the accused in order to attest to their own iniquitous quality, and to hold a most grave inquiry concerning those who are companions in the mystery. But we, whom you acknowledge to be innocent, you accuse for the name alone. But we, who know the holy name of Christ, cannot deny it at all. For it is better to die happily than to live unhappily. For we, who speak the truth, punish you, who have been persuaded to listen to what is false."

XXIII. When these things had been said by the blessed Cecilia, she climbed upon a stone that was near her feet and said to all: "Do you believe the things I have said to you?" They all said with one voice: "We surely believe in Christ, the Son of God, and that He is the true God who has such a one for His handmaid." The holy Cecilia said to them: "Go from here, and say to the most miserable Almachius, that I ask for one gift: that he not hasten my struggle too quickly. I, however, will see to it that the most holy Pope Urban comes to my house, that he may make you all partakers of eternal life, and thus, by the providence of God, I too shall be brought to completion." Then, when the most holy Pope Urban had come into her house, he baptized more than four hundred of various sex, fortune, and age. Among them was a most illustrious man named Gordianus. He, by the prayers of the Pope, summoned the house of the holy Cecilia in his own name, so that from that day, when the baptism of Christ was performed there, it was made the Lord’s Church; ^C so much so that the most holy Pope Urban also secretly dwelt there; and day by day the gains of Christ’s redemption grew there, and the losses of the devil were innumerable.

XXIV. When these things were being done, Almachius, prefect of the city, ordered Cecilia to be brought before him; and questioning her, he said to her: "What is your name, O girl?" The holy one answered: "Cecilia." The prefect Almachius said: "Of what condition are you?" Cecilia said: "A freeborn woman of the most illustrious rank." The prefect said: "I am asking you about your religion, not your lineage." The holy Cecilia said: "Your interrogation has taken a foolish beginning, which seems to elicit two responses from a single question." The prefect said: "Whence is this confidence of yours?" The holy one answered: "From a good conscience and a faith without hypocrisy." The prefect said: "Do you not know—

XXV. The prefect Almachius said: "Choose one of two things: either sacrifice, or deny that you are a Christian, that you may be granted pardon for your crime." Then the holy Cecilia said with a laugh: "O judge who must needs be affected by shame! You want me to deny, and to be innocent, so that you yourself might make me liable to a crime. If you want to accuse, why do you urge me to deny? If, however, you wish to acquit, why do you not wish to inquire?" The prefect Almachius said: "Accusers are present who testify that you are a Christian. If, therefore, you deny as soon as possible, you will put an end to their accusations. But if you are unwilling to deny, you will impute this to your own madness when the sentence has been passed upon you." The holy Cecilia said: "Their accusation is to be desired by me, and your punishment is a victory. Do not, therefore, correct me as if I were erring; but rebuke yourself, who imagine that it will come to pass that I deny Christ." The prefect said: "Wretched woman, do you not know that the power of life and death has been given to me by the emperors? Why do you speak with such pride?" The holy one said: "In one way it is permitted to speak of being proud, and in another way, confident. I have spoken confidently, not proudly; for"

we also greatly reject pride. But if you do not fear to hear the truth, I will again teach you that you have spoken false things. Almachius the prefect said: What falsehood have you detected in us? Saint Cecilia said: This, that you affirm your emperors have given you the power of life and death. The prefect said: Am I then a liar? Saint Cecilia said: Truly, if you command, I will show you that you have spoken falsely. The prefect said: Speak. Saint Cecilia said: You said that your emperors gave you the power of life and death. Recognize, therefore, that only the power of death has been given to you. For you can indeed take away life from the living, but you cannot give life to the dead. Say, therefore, that the emperors wished you to be a minister of death. For if you say more, you are caught speaking false things, which cannot stand. The prefect Almachius said: Do not be wordy, O woman, but henceforth lay aside your audacity, and come and sacrifice to the gods. Saint Cecilia said: I do not know where you have lost your eyes. For those whom you call gods, I and everyone who has healthy eyes see to be stones, and brass, and lead. The prefect said: You heap insults upon religion; having despised the philosophers, I cannot endure insults to the gods. Saint Cecilia said: Since you opened your mouth, you have not spoken a word that did not show you to be unjust, foolish, and unwise. But what is this, that you show yourself to be blind to external things, since we all look upon the stone, and see it is a useless stone, yet you bear witness that it is a god? I give you counsel, if you command, and by touching it, learn that it is a stone; if you do not know this by looking at it; for it is a disgrace for you to be mocked by the whole populace. For everyone knows that God is in the heavens, but these things, as they are stone forms, can be better changed into lime by fire: since they are already perishing in their own idleness, and neither to you, if you should perish with them, nor if they were cast into the fire, could they be of any help to themselves. ^A

XXVI. Then Almachius, being very angry, ordered her to be taken back to her house and to be scorched by the flame of the bath. But when she was shut up in the air of her bath, and a great force of burning wood was applied underneath throughout the whole day and night, she remained unhurt and safe, by the grace of the Lord: so much so that no part of her body was moistened by even the slightest sign of sweat. When Almachius the prefect heard of this, he sent to her that she should be beheaded in the baths themselves. The executioner struck her with three blows, and could not behead her. But that fierce and cruel lictor left her with her head half-severed; so much so that all the crowds who had come to believe through her soaked up her blood with linens as if with sponges. But during the three days she survived, she ceased not to confirm and corroborate in the faith of the Lord all whom she nourished and whom she taught. To whom she also distributed all that she had, and commended them to the most holy Pope Urban. To whom she also said: I have already asked for a respite of three days for myself, that I might commit these things to your holiness, and consecrate this my house to the Lord as a church for all time. But when the three days were completed, and blessed Cecilia was praying to God, while prayers were still on her lips, she delivered her precious and holy soul into the hands of the living God, on the 22nd of November. Then the most holy Pope Urban, having taken up her most glorious body by night with the deacons, buried it among his other fellow bishops, where all the confessors and martyrs are deposited. Her house, however, he consecrated forever in the name of the holy Church, and there the holy mysteries of the Lord are performed perpetually to this very day in memory of the martyr, but for the glory and praise of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ: to whom be glory and power now and always, and for ever and ever. Amen. ^{B C D}

VITA S. CLEMENTIS MARTYRIS, EPISCOPI ROMANI, DISCIPULI S. PETRI APOSTOLI

I. In the time of the Emperor Trajan, Torcutianus, count of the consistory, when he had seen an innumerable multitude of Christians believing, summoned the prefects of the regions, and, having given them money, persuaded them to move the crowd against the Christian name. But with Mamertinus holding the prefecture of the city, there was stirred up a popular

^A sedition in the name of Clement: and with confusion arising among them, one said one thing about him, and another said another. But others said on the contrary: "What evil has he done? Or what good has he not rightly performed? For whomever of the sick he has visited, that person has obtained health from him. Whoever has gone to him full of sadness has returned joyful. He has never harmed anyone, but has been beneficial to everyone." But others, inflamed by a diabolical spirit, were shouting: "By magical arts he does these things, and he subverts the worship of our gods. He says that Jupiter is not a god; he says that our Hercules is the guardian of foul spirits; he slanderously asserts that the holy Venus was a harlot, and that Vesta, the great goddess, was consumed by fire. Similarly, he also slanders the most holy Minerva, Diana, Mercury, Saturn, and Mars. He attacks the names and temples of all our gods with insults and contumely. Either he shall sacrifice to our gods, or he himself shall perish."

II. Then Mamertinus, the prefect of the city, not bearing the sedition of the people, ordered the most blessed Clement to be brought to him. When he saw him, he began to say: "You have indeed sprung from a noble root, as the Roman populace testifies; but you have adopted error, and therefore they cannot reconcile themselves to holding their peace. For I do not know which Christ you worship, and against the gods you take your stand. Wherefore it is fitting that you should lay aside all superfluous superstition, and worship the gods whom we worship by custom." Then ^B St. Clement said: "I could wish that your excellency’s prudence would attend to my defense, and not accuse me on account of the sedition of the impetuous, but rather on account of my doctrine. For even if many dogs should bark at and snap at us, they cannot take away from us that we are partakers of reason: they, however, are but barking dogs. For it is always certain that sedition arises from the ignorant, such that it has nothing safe nor true. Therefore, let reason be sought in silence, in which a man, as a participant of reason, may for his own salvation begin to consult and discuss so that he might find the true God, to whom he may honorably commend his faith." Then Mamertinus, the prefect of the city, sending to the Emperor Trajan, reported the ^C name of blessed Clement, saying: "The people do not cease to seek for this Clement with seditious clamors, and no proof worthy of belief can be found against him." Then the Emperor Trajan wrote back that it was necessary for him either to consent to sacrifice, or to be relegated across the Pontic sea to his desert city near Cherson.

III. But when the command of Trajan was confirmed, Mamertinus was pondering within himself how he might ensure that Clement would not seek voluntary exile, but rather offer libations to the gods. But blessed Clement was contending to lead the mind of the judge himself to the faith of Christ, and to show that it is better ^D to choose exile than to fear it. However, the Lord granted such grace to Clement that Mamertinus, the prefect of the city, wept and said: "The God whom you sincerely worship, He Himself will bring you aid in this, for which you have been condemned, and he appointed a ship for his exile; and when he had placed in it all things that were necessary for use, he dismissed him. Moreover, many pious men from the populace also followed him. But when he had arrived at the place to which he had been relegated, for the work of digging and cutting marble, he found there more than two thousand Christians, who had been condemned for the longest time. And indeed, when they had seen the holy and illustrious Clement, all with one mind, with groans and tears approaching, said: "Pray for us, holy pontiff, that we may be made worthy of the promise of Christ." When holy Clement had learned that they had been relegated because of Christ, he said: "The Lord has not sent me here without cause, but so that, having been a partaker of your sufferings, I might also provide an example of consolation and tolerance."

IV. But he learned from them that they were carrying water to the place from six miles away on their own shoulders. Therefore St. Clement immediately asked them, saying: "Let us pray to our Lord Jesus Christ that He may open a fountain of water for those who confess His faith; and He who struck the rock in the desert land of Sinai, and the waters flowed abundantly, may He provide a copious flow for us, so that we may rejoice in His provision." But the prayer having been completed, in that place to which he had looked, he saw a lamb standing, which lifted its right foot, as if pointing out the location to holy Clement. Then saint Clement, thinking it to be the Lord, whom he alone saw and no one else, went to that place and said: "In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, strike in this place!" And when everyone had dug around with their iron tools, and not in the very spot where the lamb had stood, taking up a small iron tool, with a small blow the saint struck the place which was under the foot of the lamb; from which suddenly emerged a most beautiful fountain with bubbling waters, which, flowing with great force, created a river. Then Saint Clement said to them all as they exulted: "The river’s force makes the city of God glad." Because of this fame, therefore, the whole province ran together, and all who had arrived at the teaching of Saint Clement were converted to the Lord; so much so that daily five hundred and more departed baptized. Within one year, however, there were made there by the faithful seventy-five churches; and all the idols were broken, all the temples of the region which was round about were destroyed; all the groves which were for three hundred miles were entirely hewn down and leveled in every circle.

V. Then, therefore, the hateful report reached the Emperor Trajan, that the population of Christians had increased there to an innumerable multitude; and by him was sent the governor Aufidianus,

^A who put many Christians to death by various torments. But seeing all advancing toward martyrdom with joy, he yielded to the multitude; only compelling the holy Clement to sacrifice, and seeing him to be so firm and steadfast in the Lord, and not willing at all to be moved from his resolution, he said to the lictors: Take him, and lead him into the midst of the sea, and cast him into the deep, that the Christians may not be able to take away his body and worship him as a god. When therefore this had been done, the whole multitude of Christians standing by wept on the shore. To them also was this response given, that every year, on the day of his struggle, the sea would recede for those coming, providing a dry path for them for seven days. Which, indeed, it pleased God to have happen for the praise of His name even unto this day. But this having been done, by a miracle which was beyond expectation, all the surrounding nations believed in Christ. In which place no gentile is found, no Hebrew, no heretic at all. For there very many benefits come to pass. On his feast, the blind receive sight, demons are cast out, the feverish are made whole; those suffering from kidney trouble and those laboring with stones, by the sole contact of his relics and by the sprinkling and drinking of sanctified water, are freed from their sickness; and those afflicted with any disease whatsoever, fleeing to the aid of the holy martyr, are healed of their infirmity; and his glory and praise remain forever, through our Lord Jesus Christ; through whom and with whom, to the Father is glory with His most holy and life-giving Spirit, now and always and unto the ages of ages. Amen. ^B VI. After these things, however, Cornelius and Phoebus, his disciples, said: Let us all pray with one mind that the Lord may show us the relics of His martyr. While the people were praying, therefore, the sea receded into its bosom for almost three miles, and the people having entered on dry land, found a dwelling prepared by God in the likeness of a marble temple, and there lay the body of holy Clement, and the anchor with which he had been cast, lying near him. It was therefore revealed to his disciples that they should not cast the relics out of that place.

Narrative of the holy martyr Ephrem, Bishop of Cherson, concerning a miracle wrought for a boy by the holy martyr and apostle Clement.

I. Marvelous is God in his saints (Ps. LXVII, 36), and it is fitting to say today with the Prophet: How marvelous are thy works, O Lord! (Ps. XCI, 6) and: Who is so great a God as our God? (Ps. LXXVI, 14) and: Thou art the God who alone doest wonders. For what other preface ^C should I bring to the present prayer? For the present miracle surpasses the artificial art of speaking, since the miracle excels many miracles, and it even surpasses prophetic miracles, as the speech about to be delivered will show.

II. I know that you desire to know what kind of miracle it is, and whose, and you urge that we tell it (Jam. I, 17). It is, however, first of all God's, from whom is every good gift and every perfect donation. Furthermore, however, it is of Clement of Rome, who was after Peter the herald of the truth, and the faithful successor of his Roman see; of that Clement, I say, whose saving doctrines the whole earth, even in silence, cries out even unto this day were his. Of that Clement, who was the true branch of the vine of Christ, through whom a cluster of doctrine, piety, and salvation was poured out for us. Of that Clement, who was the true ladder, which does not lead us to some high place of the earth, ^D but sends us up to heaven and heavenly things by the ascensions of virtues as if by some steps, ladders which are not inferior to those seen by Jacob, not showing us angels ascending and descending upon them, but leading the souls of men by divine admonitions, that they may lead from step to step through virtues to God. Since you are not ignorant of whose miracle this is, O most beautiful and faithful assembly, hear as pious men, and rejoice that you have heard the prayer, and incline your ears, and reproach our slowness. For I rejoice in this, and only ask you that you apply an attentive mind to me until the end, and that no thought which pertains to the care of this life may enter your mind, nor let your prompt zeal of spirit be allowed to retard, but receive this faithfully with a vigilant and attentive mind. The matter, however, stands thus.

III. When the most renowned and most blessed Clement had finished his course of doctrine and apostleship, and had departed from here through the consummation of martyrdom, as the book of his glorious martyrdom has declared (which, that you are not ignorant of, I am persuaded), he who glorifies those who glorify him (1 Reg. II, 30) did not judge it just not to glorify him in turn, who had so struggled for love of him: but to glorify him greatly and to extol him magnificently, and, as in heaven among the angels, so also here among men to render him most renowned and most worthy of veneration through miracles—miracles, the magnitude of which the mind cannot comprehend, nor speech express their multitude, nor hands express their infinity. That, therefore, from the end, as the proverb says, you might recognize the woven cloth, I will tell you what I previously promised: that when the venerable relics of the most holy martyr Clement had been cast into the deep of the sea by those impious idol-worshippers, and a temple built by God in the deep had received them, here also the God of wonders wrought a maximum miracle. For when this had been done, and his disciples were weeping with those who were there with the faithful, and that they might show the most holy relics to them, which also was done...

and they besought God as suppliants, that deep sea forthwith withdrew and receded, enabling the faithful to approach as far as three miles. Having entered, they found a dwelling place like a marble temple, and there in a stone chest were the most holy and glorious relics of Christ's martyr reposed. When they had resolved to take up the most holy relics from the deep, the saint, approaching by night, addressed them thus: Do not take the relics; but this favor I grant you, that each year, on the day of my struggle, the sea will recede for seven days, providing a path through the dry land to reach this place. And what he had said was brought to effect. For from that time until the present day, every year this miracle occurs. ^A What is this, that it should be considered less than Moses’ miracle? Or what is it that it should be held as viler or less glorious than Elisha’s? Rather, it is far greater and more glorious. For he [Moses], once and while alive, dividing the sea with his rod, caused the depths of the sea to be a road; and he [Elisha] similarly, cutting the Jordan with a sheepskin, performed this miracle once, the waters having returned to their natural state after the crossing, and never was this done thereafter. But this man, after his death, and not once, but from that time until the present day. O miracle and glory of the martyr, and what a gift he has secured each year on the day of his glorious struggle! For seven days, as we said before, that infinite sea receding provides an easy path for the pious.

IV. When this had thus come to pass, all the pious, as well those who were in the region as the citizens of Cherson, having heard of it, set out to contemplate the miracle. With whom also a certain pious man with his pious wife and male child traveled to the temple of the most holy martyr with a prompt and eager spirit. When they had arrived at the place and looked upon the miracle which was still being performed, they entered that temple which had been built by God in the deep; and when they had approached the chest, they besought the saint as suppliants, ^B asking that through him the forgiveness of sins might be granted to them; and they prayed that long life, free from any calamities, be given to their son, and plenty of wealth, and all that it is fitting for parents to ask for an only child. Therefore, after they had finished their prayers and had kissed the saint’s relics, they returned. When they had gone out, the water returned to its own place. But they, turning around and looking at the sea which had been their path before, looking hither and thither, began to seek their son. He, however, had remained in the casket of the saint; and this was done not through the forgetfulness of the parents, but by the will of God, that in this also He might make the martyr more admirable.

V. When, therefore, the parents did not find their son, and thought that the boy had been forgotten by them in the profound, what need is there to speak also of the father’s lamentations and the mother’s wailing? For they turned that most famous festival into a lamentation. ^C What were they not saying? What were they not doing—things that, as is appropriate, could move even a stone itself to tears? For the mother, extending her eyes to the sea and lifting her hands on high, uttered such words to the saint: Are these, O saint, your rewards? Is this the thanks you return to those who ran to you with such great longing? Is this the recompense you returned for the labor which I have suffered since I arrived? Where is my son? Where have the sea beasts torn the vitals of my child? What violent, surging wave covered him alive as if in a tomb? Whom now shall I look upon with my eyes? For whom shall I pray? And who will be the staff of my old age? Why, O saint, did you not make me a partaker of my son’s death, that just as I came to you holding him by the hand, so also, holding him in my arms, I might have gone down to the underworld, alas? O sea and depth, in whose bosom do you hold my son? And how will you feed him as well? Woe is me, pitied son; ^D son, snatched before his time; son, how have you departed from my eyes? With what feet have you turned away? Whom shall I look upon as a lamb leaping? The father, too, again beating his hands and eyes, was lamenting thus: Why, O saint, did you suddenly make me bereft of my children? Why did you allow my son to die such a miserable death? Why have things contrary to what I hoped for befallen me? Is it with this faith that we came to you? Are these the gifts of the martyrs to those who approach them with great longing? In truth, it was not you, but the storms of my sins that handed my son over to the sea. O my son, who will close your eyes as you lie dead? Who will prepare you for the tomb? What casket will cover your beautiful and lovely body? Or has the sea indeed covered your eyes, and the deep buried you, and the belly of fishes been your coffin!

VI. But when the parents were thus mourning and lamenting, some of those who had gathered there with difficulty persuaded them to cease from their lamentation. having ceased from grief for a little while, they went home. When, therefore, time had passed, and the days of the memory of the holy martyr had arrived, they said these things among themselves, remembering their son: Come, let us set out to the saint, that if any remains, which is not possible, of our son have survived, we may take them, and contend in judgment with the saint; that, if it be possible, we may die there, entering into a communion of death with our son. When they had said these things, they had not yet put an end to what they were saying, and they began to set out on their journey. When, however, they had approached and arrived at the place, and the sea had receded, God here too [prepared] honor before the martyr for the longing of his son...

stimulated by the desire, they first leaped into the deep, and the subsequent multitude went behind them. When, however, they had arrived at the most venerable temple of the martyr, (O miracle!) they see their son alive, joyful, and leaping. Since they had thus fallen from miracles into miracle, and were struck with amazement by the remarkable and admirable event, they first indeed praised God; then they gave thanks to the martyr also. Next, they asked the youth how he had been saved, by whom he was quickened, by whom preserved, and by whom nourished? The boy, however, holding the chest with one hand, and with the other hand pointing with his finger to him who lay within, answered those who questioned him: "He, after God, was my guardian and life and nourishment, and the repeller of the marine beasts. He fed me daily most splendidly."

[VII.] Parents, however, affected by wonder and joy, and more strengthened by the faith of the martyr—through whom they received their son, whom they thought dead, alive—turned their previous mourning to thanksgiving, thus acclaiming the holy one: "Truly therefore God is admirable in his saints, and doing the will of those who fear him, and hearing their prayer. You have saved, O holy one, our son; you have returned to us him who was not hoped for. O heaven and earth, and you, deep, which we formerly detested, admire this great work, which surpasses nature. Be, however, you also, O holy one, propitious to us, and forgive us those things which, tortured in spirit, we cursed and did. Do not return like for like for our curses against you. We have received our son; him who was dead, we have now received, through you, recalled to life; we have again, by your aid, the staff of our old age. What need is there of more words? We have received back, safe through you, him who was dead—not for three days, but for one year—buried not in stone, but in water, and consumed not by worms, which is proper to human nature, but, as we supposed, devoured by fishes. O grace, O glory, O virtue and beneficence! O holy one." When they had thus followed the holy one with tears and praises, taking their son, they came home, telling the miracle to everyone.

[VIII.] What, therefore, shall we compare with these things? They say that Elijah once returned to life to his mother a son who was dead; which is indeed great and very admirable. Nay, even at the monument of Elisha once, as it is recorded in the Scriptures, someone killed by certain murderers, and thrown therein, rose and lived: which is indeed great and very admirable. Furthermore, Peter also in our books, Peter, I say, the prince of the apostles, raised to life the widow Tabitha, who fed the poor, dead at the very hour by his prayers. And these things are indeed admirable, and by far most famous: but how does the present miracle surpass them? Consider more attentively for me the excellence of this miracle. Elijah, as we said before, raised a boy recently dead, and who had not yet grown cold, but still kept the heat of nature. Elisha’s virtue, however, performed the miracle for two reasons: one, indeed, showing the prophet who was ignored; the other, not allowing the body to decay even after death. Peter, however, by his own virtue, and aided also by the prayers of those who had benefited from the widow, he himself also raised her, dead just then. But the holy martyr Clement (O miracle!) preserved the boy not recently, but dead already for one year, or to speak more accurately, in every moment and its most minute part, dying. You all know, who have experienced the danger, for how long a time it was plausible for the boy to be preserved in so vast a deep. But to me, carefully considering, not one dead, but for how long a period of time we know a boy is suffocated in water, repeating and measuring that time, we will find the saint to have suffocated so many dead. But what is more admirable, he preserved the boy not only from the suffocation of waters, but also from the injury of beasts. O grace, O virtue, which achieves both: namely, both binds the waters and repels the beasts. To these things, what do you say? Does not another miracle surpass it? Unless someone rightly reproaches us for extolling this above the prophetic miracles. No reproach will fall upon us for that cause. For you know openly that the holy martyr is in the same glory and the same tabernacles, in which the holy martyrs, apostles, and prophets, and the angels themselves are.

[IX.] But O splendor of martyrs and ornament of saints, first-fruits of bishops, see now also this present pious and religious assembly, which is daily overwhelmed by the waves of life. Protect and preserve him unharmed by your prayers: and demons, who like savage beasts attack and threaten to devour the nobility of the soul, repel with the dart of your intercessions, O most holy one. But we also, O most faithful assembly, I ask that through good works pleasing to God we make ourselves worthy of the saint’s graces and gifts. And first indeed keep among God and ourselves sincere and undisturbed charity. Then let us purge ourselves from all cursing, and all lying, and all perjury. Before these things and after these things, let us do alms, which knows how to appease God more, and to render him propitious to our sins. For who, forgetting Him, shall possess the kingdom of God? Let no one of us plead poverty, no one widowhood and the nourishment of children. These are cold and pernicious excuses. No one of you is poorer than that widow, who had nothing else than a handful of flour: and whose children were to be fed by it: nor yet her own or

filled only with food and drink, but also with gold and silver, and other things that follow those who take pleasure in riches and possessions, while others are starving and perished with cold; let us know that we are storing up for ourselves the eternal fire that never ceases. That we may therefore escape it, let us walk in the commandments of God with all our strength, so that we may both enjoy the intercessions of the holy martyr, and obtain the ineffable and eternal goods of God, by the grace and kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ: to whom be glory, power, now and always, and unto ages of ages. Amen.

LIFE AND CONDUCT OF OUR HOLY FATHER GREGORY, WHO BECAME BISHOP OF AGRIGENTUM

^A I. Virtue is a most beautiful thing, bringing an earthly and supermundane glory to its lovers. For it does not yield its rewards only in the future life, but also makes those who pursue it manifest even in the present life. Therefore, Gregory, who practiced all things well to the highest degree, and who was not only made an heir of the life without end, but even while he lived in the flesh became wonderful and famous, was born, we may say, from the land of the Sicilians—for all know that Agrigentum is within the confines of Sicily—and when the holy Sion had received him from there, she nourished him like a most noble plant and instructed him most learnedly, and restored him to his fatherland once more as a glorious figure. And indeed, it seems a most sweet and worthy labor to me to write down the history of his life from its beginning, and to set it forth as a model and archetype of every virtue for those who come after. To you, too, I know that for those who desire both to hear and to emulate good things, the matter will appear desirable, and will enter the ears with great pleasure. Therefore, we must take as the beginning of the discourse that which he himself had as the beginning of his life.

II. A certain village brought forth the blessed man, which is called Praetoria, situated very near to the city of Agrigentum; and though it was formerly obscure

^A now because of him it is shown to be famous and illustrious. His parents, Chariton and Theodote, were people flourishing in brilliant wealth and a virtuous life, distributing most of their possessions to the poor. These, by means of prayer, sought to have a male child, and they obtained their request—one who was not only male in nature but also possessed a masculine soul, as the time of temptation later proved, as well as his nobility in the face of the assaults of evils, which the discourse will demonstrate as it proceeds. This child, therefore, received from the divine baptism the man of great virtue, Potamion, who at that time presided over the sacred concerns of the city of the Agrigentines. When the boy had completed his eighth year, his parents brought this divine youth to Potamion, desiring to be deemed worthy of his prayers and to hand him over to a teacher for instruction. And he, having prayed over him as was expected, committed him to a certain grammarian named Damianus, charging him to instruct the boy zealously and laboriously in the disciplines. ^B Indeed, the boy showed his greatness of soul from the very beginning, as the saying goes, by the line, and as he possessed a keenness of nature and an intense readiness, in a short time he ran through most of the disciplines, so that in only two years he learned the instruction of the first elements, the Davidic psalms, and the proportions of numbers, and in addition to these, the ecclesiastical hymns. Truly, he was considered admirable by all for the speed of his learning of these things. When he had passed his twelfth year, his parents again approached the bishop, and implored that this boy be enrolled in the clergy of the Church. And he, having gladly received the word—for he already saw with the discerning eye of his soul what a beautiful and luminous eye he was destined to be for the Church—enrolled him among the flock, proclaiming that he would turn out to be a vessel of election, and all that was to follow for that man later on. Thus the holy Gregory, having been numbered among the choir of the clergy, was handed over to Donatus, the archdeacon of the Church, who at that time had been entrusted with the care of the sacred books; and by dwelling long with him, he showed himself more clearly. ^C And he was manifest from the fragrance of virtue hidden within him, diligently running through the disciplines, but transforming his character into one more grave and dignified, and becoming more attentive to the holy Scriptures, by which especially his soul was enlightened, and being charmed by their most sweet beauty, he gave himself entirely to God, and sought the way by which he might adhere more closely to Him and approach more quickly to the One who draws near to him.

III. ^D Therefore, the thought seized him to visit the holy places and to be a participant in their holiness. And since he burned with a great desire for this matter, he henceforth besought God that his vow might not be frustrated. He was already in his eighteenth year of age. And on a certain night, while he was living in the fellowship of the archdeacon whom we have mentioned, he himself entered the temple, and having prayed much to God, to assist him in his purpose.

^A and bring his desire to completion, he lay down upon the ground before the bed of Donatus and gave himself up to sleep. But someone stood by him and said, "Gregory." He immediately said, "Here I am, Lord," and standing before the archdeacon, he said, "Why have you called me, Lord?" And he said, "I have not called you, my son." So he turned back again and lay down on his bed. Then the caller stood by a second time and said, "Gregory." He jumped up again in haste and stood before the archdeacon’s bed, saying, "Here I am, Lord; why have you called me?" The archdeacon, therefore, being troubled by the matter, and not failing to recognize that the call was from above, said to him, "I have not called you even now, my son; nevertheless, if you are called again in this way, answer the one who is calling you, 'What is it, Lord; what do you command your servant?'" So when the caller stood by a third time, ^B proclaiming, "Gregory," he answered just as he had been instructed to do. Then the caller—and this was an angel of the Lord—said at once, "Your prayer has been heard. You must therefore make your way to the seashore with all speed and encounter those who are about to carry you to the holy places."

IV. Upon these things, Gregory gave thanks to God, and having obeyed what he had heard, he went out, leaving the archdeacon still held by sleep. Coming upon a ship, he asked when and where they intended to make their voyage. When he heard that they were already prepared to sail, and that they intended to make their voyage to Carthage, he asked to be taken along as a fellow passenger. The one in charge of the ship, therefore, ^C suspecting both his intense eagerness of spirit and looking also to the humility of his appearance, asked, "Are you perhaps a slave running away from his own master?" But when he said that he was a slave of Christ and of no man, the master allowed him to board the ship, though he intended to do nothing kind nor just toward him, planning in his inhumanity to sell him into slavery. The ship, favored by the wind, reached Carthage in three days. But the shipmaster, observing the young man constantly, because he was engaged in prayers and vigils throughout the whole night, quieted himself and little by little received the fitting impression about him, that he was not, as it were, the slave of any man, but was to be numbered among the first and most excellent of the servants of God. Hence, a strong and terrible grief and repentance for his previous actions came upon him, ^D wishing to heal the unjust intent of his soul with such tears as remedies.

V. When they had docked and entered the city, the shipmaster welcomed the young man into his own home, and gave him leave to live in a private house as he wished. And having indeed revealed to him the shameful thought he had harbored (for his conscience did not cease to smite him on account of the holiness of the one against whom he had sinned), he begged also to be granted pardon, which he readily obtained from that sympathetic and humane soul. And he indeed fared thus; but Gregory, having locked himself in where he was dwelling

intent upon the glory of the heavenly home, ^A kept to his former manner of life and rule; he would pass his time innocently in psalms, taking food once every two or three days, and commonly he would even pass the whole week fasting. Thereupon the master of the house, admiring this kind of study of life which he had imposed upon himself, made him known to the bishop of the city; and he was immediately brought before that great and illustrious man. The bishop said to him: "Whence do you come, my son, and whither are you going?" He replied that he had come there from the city of Agrigento, but that he was seeking holy Sion. Having heard these things, the bishop prayed good things for him, saying: "May the Lord perfect your steps and direct your journey." And he, having thrown himself at his feet not without tears, replied: "Would that it might happen to me according to your word!" Meanwhile, the bishop admitted him to share in his board, and desired him to stay with him until the holy days of the feast should arrive (for they were not far off). Having obeyed this command, and having used his company familiarly, he returned to the house where he had previously stayed, and took up his customary manner of living.

^B VI. But, some days later, when he was sitting and reading in the sacred temple of the illustrious martyr Julian, three monks appeared to him, venerable in their character, and in the decent and modest habit of their bodies presenting a physical form or beauty of soul itself. Gregory, having seen them, became wonderfully joyful, for his soul leapt up at the presence of these men, since he sensed that they had not come to him without some great benefit. When they had worshipped God, one of them sat down; but the remaining two stood by him with great fear and also with an admirable reverence. Gregory, having likewise ^C venerated this man, joined himself to the others. The monk who had sat down, having cast his eyes upon him, said: "What do you have here, O servant of God, Gregory, who has chosen the good part, which (to speak according to the judgment of the Gospel) shall not be taken away from you?" Astonished at him because of this first recognition of his name, he immediately threw himself at his feet, and weeping, shedding tears from his eyes, he begged that he might be made worthy of his prayers. But he raised him up, and commanding him to think nothing great concerning himself, he bade him to sit down, as well as the two monks with him. ^D Soon after, he spoke to him kindly: "Know, son," he said, "that all your intentions have been revealed to us by God. But follow us gladly; since God, the revealer of these things, has commanded that you also be taken into our company, and that you should see with us the holy places, toward which we have long since set out by ship." Overcome with admiration and joy at these things, Gregory could not contain himself; but rising again, and embracing the feet of the monk, he shed tears even more plentifully than before for joy, and was altogether exultant, offering God as much thanks as he was able for these things. Afterwards, they went to their lodging, and the master of the house, showing much cheerfulness and hospitality toward them, furnished all things in abundance.

When they had tasted these, the night kept them awake until dawn, as they sang sacred hymns and read divine lessons. There, indeed, the monks were exceedingly astonished at the youth's intelligence, for he had related everything so accurately and safely.

^A VII. The fourth day having arrived after this, the senior of the monks mentioned the journey, and as the evening was falling, they went out of the city together. Having traveled for twenty days, they arrived in Tripoli, and went to the church of Saint Leontius; whence also a certain venerable and respectable priest took them in and entertained them in his own house. Gregory was serving them, and those who saw him were struck with wonder at the nature of the service he provided—not only because it was zealous, ^B persevering, and industrious, but because he so exhausted himself that for two or even three days he would scarcely look toward food; and not even then, had not that monk, urging and compelling him to partake of food, let drop some words about his parents, saying, "Tell me, Gregory, do the dearest ones, parents and relatives and fatherland, come into your memory and cause you grief?"

But he, being full of divine wisdom and humility, replied, "On the contrary, Father, it causes me very great grief that, with the Lord explicitly crying out, 'He who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me,' and, 'Whoever does not renounce all that he possesses cannot be my disciple,' nothing worthy of these has been done by me. But may the Giver of good things from above grant me help for my weakness, and to them consolation for their sorrow." And these things are thus.

^C VIII. Having spent thirty days in Tripoli, and having arrived there without becoming known to anyone, they departed from it, once again taking up their journey and adhering to their original purpose. Four months having already passed, they reached Jerusalem, and traveled around that region, gathering every good thing from the monasteries there, and consorting with those among the monks who were more distinguished in virtue.

In one of these monasteries, not far from the Holy City, they spent the sacred days of Lent, during which Gregory, having demonstrated extraordinary struggles, filled the minds of the monks with wonder. ^D The master of the monastery, having a most intuitive and prophetic eye of the soul, clearly foretold to Gregory the things that were to happen to him—his ascent, I mean, to the hierarchical throne, and the heavy and diverse trials that would await him, and then his subsequent deliverance from them, and his brilliant proclamation. He also instructed him in what was necessary, teaching him to be schooled in the fear of God at all times and not to rely on his own knowledge

not to despise poverty, not to oppress anyone who is lowly or abject, but to endure afflictions and future trials with a calm mind. ^A With these admonitions, Gregory, like fertile, well-irrigated soil receiving beautiful seeds with joy, brought forth the fruitful ear of virtue.

IX. When the week of our Savior’s passion arrived, during which He was subjected to the punishment of the cross, he saw wonderful things taking place, being led by Him. He saw men being lifted up from earth to heaven; some who, by their discipline and way of life, were in no way inferior to the angels; others, still existing in the body, living as if they were without bodies, lacking food. He saw streams of tears, almost surpassing the rivers of the fountains. ^B Struck with amazement at this, he lamented himself and was vehemently troubled in his soul. "Woe is me," he said, "who am I? How shall I stand with these men on the day of judgment?" On the other hand, not wishing to sink into the abyss of despair, he changed his tone, saying, "The Lord is near to those who are broken-hearted, and He will save the humble in spirit. God is able to save me and give me a reward like those who were hired for the eleventh hour, who did no work at all." Thus, when the shepherd of that flock and the monk who had brought him there saw him so downcast and sorrowful, they suspected that his separation from his relatives was the cause of that great grief. So, they addressed him ^C with words of consolation, saying: "Do not be sad, son, for we trust in God that before long you shall visit your kin, and your desire will be satisfied." "How far off you seem to me, Fathers," he said to them, "from my purpose and my thoughts. It is not for these reasons that I am afflicted in spirit, namely, that it is not permitted for me to see my parents, or my kinsmen, or finally the soil of my homeland. For the eye of God is to me like all these things, and more than all of them; looking at Him, and being looked upon by Him, I console my pained soul. But this alone is the cause of my grief, that I am conscious of having done nothing according to His will; as for the fact that I am separated by distance ^D from those who gave birth to me according to the flesh, I almost want to say that I actually rejoice, being so greatly enriched by coming to count God alone as my Father. I ask only that your holiness pray for my weakness and humility." Having spoken in this way with great spiritual understanding, Gregory did not have them continue to offer him counsel, for he was already fully capable of counseling others.

X. When that day, easily the prince of all days and celebrations, on which Christ was raised from the dead and gave life to the human race, had arrived, all the monks, together with their leader, with Gregory, and with those three men who were his companions, immediately went up to the holy city. And when they had entered into the holy resurrection, and the...

others of the holy places, and had worshipped, the divine Gregory rejoiced in his soul; and, being full of wonder and delight at the order and harmony of the hymns and divine songs which he saw there, he thought them to be in nothing different from those of the angels. ^A Coming to the archbishop for conversation, they were entertained by him. And when the morning doxology had been performed for them, as is the custom, he took his seat at their head, and called them to be the first to greet him; then, in order, the bishops and the clergy, and the others who were present. Having spoken with them of such things as he knew would be profitable to the soul, he dismissed the rest of the gathering. Calling to him the monk who had brought Gregory, and those with him, he said: "Rejoice, Lord Mark; and tell me, whence has the servant of God, Gregory, come to us, having but now arrived at these saving places?" And the monk said: "It is not we, master, who brought him, but Christ and your holy prayer." ^B Gregory, struck with wonder at the mention of his own name and that of the monk Mark—for they had not yet made themselves known to anyone in the holy city—stood there, not daring to ask anything out of extreme reverence and modesty. Then, calling the other two brethren, the patriarch said: "Lord Abba Serapion, and you, Lord Leontius, I give thanks to God who has enlightened your minds to bring along with you to these holy places such a man—one who, to speak in the apostolic manner, is fervent in spirit and serves the Lord, and who is diligent in blameless prayer and humility. For the Lord will not long hide from us his manner of life, but it shall be made manifest also to you; for we shall speak of these things when we find a suitable time. ^C But it is time now to offer the divine and mystical liturgy to the Lord."

XI. Having said this, he departed to the holy church to perform the holy liturgy. The divine Gregory also stood on the right side of the ambo, as the patriarch had commanded. Being then seized with great compunction, he stood bowing his head and shedding rivers of tears from his eyes. Gregory, thus being in such a state, and warmed by the spirit of profound humility, it became clear also to the patriarch, and he plainly saw the grace of the good Spirit overshadowing him, as he himself explained to many at a later time. ^D On the following day, the monk Mark entreated the archbishop to let him and the monks with him go, so that they might join the brethren who were living there, and thus set out on their way home. This came to pass according to his will, the archbishop charging them to return to him again by the coming Sunday. "And so," said he, "you shall depart for home." But these things were not at all known to Gregory, for he was not with the monks at that time. As, therefore, those others were on their way...

Macarius called Gregory and told him what had happened, saying that he ought not to be troubled by this, for the return of the brothers would be speedy and would occur before long. But he, ^A when he heard that they had departed, was distressed, and grasping his feet and knees, he implored him with tears, and at the same time begged to know where those men were, for he thought they had departed for the holy places. But he said that they were of the Romans, from a village no more than twenty stadia distant from the city, to which they were on the point of arriving before long. He advised him, therefore, to have no fear concerning them, nor to expect that he would be deprived of their prayers, affirming that they would not set out on this path before coming again to him. Having said these things, he took away much of his sorrow, and from that time on he remained close to the archbishop in prayers and in sacred assemblies, looking upon his life as a certain model of virtue, and observing it thoroughly and diligently within himself.

XII. When the Lord’s day drew near, the ^B monks appeared as they had been commanded; and when the divine Gregory saw them, he was filled with all joy. He spent that whole night without sleep together with them, pressing on in fervor of spirit with prayers and tears, and sanctifiedly beseeching the Lord that He would perfect the course of that exercise and meditation, and grant them fellowship in His inheritance and portion. Thus, at early dawn, Mark went to the archbishop, and throwing himself before his feet, he requested that he would send them away, having strengthened them with his own prayers as with provision for a journey. ^C He, having laid his hand upon each one of them, and then lifting his eyes to heaven, said: "O God, who hast created the heaven and the earth and the sea, and all things that are in them, who knowest all things before the rising of them, do Thou Thyself save these Thy servants who, for the sake of Thy holy name, have visited these holy places and have brought forth fruit worthy of Thy majesty—I mean Thy servant Gregory, who is present with us—and accompany them on their way; for Thou art holy unto the ages." And when all had added their "Amen," he embraced them and sent them off in peace. ^D Seeing them departing, Gregory was severely pained, and hastening quickly, he threw himself at their feet, and lamented his abandonment, saying: "Woe is me, who am I, and whither shall I turn? In what way shall I be deprived of you, Fathers and saviors? You, after God, were the authors of my salvation, you were my good teachers of an approved life, you found me wandering and, having found me, led me into the straight path, and brought me, shipwrecked and nearly submerged in many waves, into a calm and waveless harbor. But now, how shall I be miserably separated from you? How shall I endure this parting from you?" While Gregory spoke these things with groaning, and manifested the confusion of his soul with his tears,

and as he was capable of both foreseeing and comforting souls, the venerable Mark received him paternally.

^A XIII. "Do not say so, my spiritual son," he said. "For we did not think you were alone, especially since Christ, by His holy calling, summoned you and numbered you among the choir of the Fathers; and now we entrust you to this our common and good Father, who will rightly manage your affairs and will, as far as possible, happily provide for you." Having spoken thus, he took him by the hand and placed him before the feet of the patriarch, saying, "Venerable Father, this man also is of Christ’s flock, and he himself is destined to be entrusted with a Church, and to steer it with the word of doctrine as if with a spiritual rudder. Therefore, provide for his soul as well, supporting it with your teachings and persuading him to persevere in the labors of asceticism, so that he may be preserved ever-bright, and not be defiled by the thoughts of youth, which would stain a countenance so very bright and blooming with the beauty of spring as if with certain spots."

^B When the monk had said these things, Gregory’s soul was even more deeply troubled, and he was bedewed with warm tears; at which the bystanders, seeing this, were moved to share in his suffering. Indeed, the patriarch himself was led to compassion, and raising up Gregory who was still lying prostrate, he said, "I see, my son, that you are deeply grieved by the separation from these men. If, therefore, it is agreeable to you to remain with us, stay with us, and may Christ rightly order all your affairs as you yourself would wish; but if it is more to your mind to depart, go in peace with them."

^C But Gregory said, "Not so, master, and may it never happen that I should leave the places here which I prayed to see, and for which I chose this long pilgrimage. But what can I do? For I am held by a deep love for these men; but since I see that it is necessary for them to depart, I ask at least that their holy prayers be left to me as a kind of protection and inheritance of life. For I trust in God that I shall see them again in this present life." When he had said this, the monks crowded around him and embraced him warmly, and by shedding tears as clear symbols of the grief at the separation, they manifested how begrudgingly they were separated from him; and having with difficulty been torn away and having bid him farewell, they departed.

^D XIV. Having remained in Jerusalem, he went about the venerable and holy places, the monasteries, and the dwellings of the ascetics, imitating the industrious bee,

and diligently gathering the flowers of the virtues.

^A by the blessed Potamion, of whom he had had no previous knowledge, he inquired, and it caused him no less wonder. And so, when a table was set before them, and they had partaken of that which was their custom, bread and water, he revealed the men to the bishop, and how Mark, whom he had never seen, called this man by name. He was greatly delighted by this story, and taking these men as a treasure, he immediately sent for them to come to him. Having received them and offered a greeting, and having learned through them about their circumstances—who they were, and for what purpose they had set out on their journey, and where they were returning from—he sat with them for a short while and conversed on godly matters; then he departed to the church to perform the holy sacrifice, for it was the feast day of the chief apostles, Peter and Paul.

XV. On the following day, after the morning hymns, while the bishop was with them, speaking of godly and saving things, the parents of Gregory suddenly entered the city, intent on performing funeral rites for him as if he were dead; for it was on this day that he had appeared to them as dead. Now, when the mother of Gregory saw boys of an age equal to Gregory’s, the memory of her son came upon her, and her bowels were grievously rent; indeed, the sight of them provided her with ^B a cause for lamentation. "Woe is me," she said, "my dearest child, my child, you who shone out so much among your peers as the sun does among the stars; I gaze upon all these who are of your age, but you, my only child, where now in the world are you? What has become of you? Would that I knew the manner of your death; would that I knew the place where you fell; and would that I knew if there were any who were the authors of your death! For the ignorance of your calamity increases my pain, and it compels me, though forced to grieve, not even to know what I should grieve for. For one thing makes every manner of death suspicious, while another compels me to distrust all things. Did some wild beast of the forest snatch you away? But the forest is the dwelling of wild beasts. Did robbers destroy you? But what soul could be so dire and cruel, and so devoid of human nature—even if it were a stone in its hardness—that it did not reverence your young age, ^C that it was not moved to mercy by the beauty of your form? But why do I lament these things in vain? God alone, from whom I, unhappy as I am, find consolation, knows where you are. As the mother was lamenting these things, nearly all the citizens had gathered there, and were joining their lamentations with hers.

XVI. But as the wailing was raised to a greater height, and Mark, having perceived the mourning, inquired of the bishop, and sought to learn the cause of the outcry, he groaned loudly and bitterly, and mingling tears with his words, he said, "I will tell you, Father, the grave misfortune that has happened here. A certain man, born of a noble family from a village neighboring our city, flourishing in wealth, and outstanding in an even richer mind, shared all ^D his possessions with the poor. And having taken a wife who was very pious and modest, he became, through prayer, the father of a male child, whom I myself received from holy baptism. Seeing, therefore, the father’s reception of his offspring, and the prayers with the vow

^A for the succession of his lineage, and the prayer having been brought to realization, he abstained from his wife on account of these things; and they took the child, who had already reached his eighth year, and brought him to me. And I, first of all, delivered him to a teacher of grammar; then, having shorn him and enrolled him among the clergy under me, I entrusted him to my archdeacon, charging him to apply himself most diligently to the study of the Scriptures with all speed. He, thus aided by both his nature and his diligence, shone forth in all things in a short time, in such a way that no one comparable to him could be found throughout all Sicily. This boy, therefore, whether by the envy of a demon, or I know not by what ill-fortune he had been overtaken, suddenly vanishes, with no one being aware of what had happened to him, nor indeed, even down to this day, has it come to our knowledge. We traversed the whole island many times, yet we were ^B unable to find or learn anything further. Therefore, we too bear an inconsolable grief concerning him, as the good God has seen fit to reveal nothing to us up to now. But since the souls of his parents felt the affliction more than others, they are present now, mourning and to perform a memorial for him, on this very day on which they also ceased to be called parents, as he became invisible.

XVII. Having heard these things, Mark was speechless for a long time, and after this, becoming filled with tears, he requested the boy’s parents to come forward into the middle. He asked them what this great confusion of wailing was, and for what reason they were grieving so severely. Since, because of the excessive sadness that possessed them, their voices were as if stifled, and they were unable to even explain the cause to him, he observed the intensity of their suffering and, at the same time, casting his eyes more accurately upon Chariton, he saw certain similarities ^C appearing; for he too was quite handsome of face and fair-haired; and, to sum up, having perceived that he preserved the precise character—and having said to himself that it would no longer be a matter of doubt—he said, "It is fitting, brothers, for you to give thanks to God in all things, whatever the occurrence might be, for He manages all things well according to His ineffable and incomprehensible judgments; but you should not mourn so unreasoningly, as though your child has already perished. For even if he is hidden from you, yet he is surely manifest to God." Chariton, having heard these things and thinking that the words were spoken merely for the sake of consolation, said, "This, Father, is indeed entirely true; for if, according to the Scriptures, Hades and perdition are manifest before the Lord, how much more so the hearts of men? If, therefore, our child has even been killed, at least his soul is surely in the hands of God." And these were the words of Chariton.

XVIII. But Gregory’s mother, fixing her eyes upon the mouth of Mark, looked intently, and receiving the word, her heart fluttered and she was in suspense. Then again the monk, having said that...

^A your son is indeed in good hands, and having ordered them to restrain their wailing, immediately summoned the archdeacon Donatus. He bitterly reproached him for his previous silence as though it were a vice, and said: "For what reason, O man, have you imitated that wicked servant by burying the great talent of God in the earth, instead of manifesting it, that you might thus have been the cause of joy, rather than anguish, to the boy's parents and to this our common Father and archpriest? Now, therefore, you shall pay the penalty, having become the author of such grief for them, and having, for your part, hidden the grace of God." By these words, the archdeacon was turned pale, his features changed, and a trembling took hold of all his limbs; falling upon his face, he began to weep and wail bitterly, pronouncing against himself those very words of David: "I have sinned against my Lord and against you all." ^B Having therefore granted him pardon, they raised him up as he lay upon the ground and commanded him to recount accurately everything concerning Gregory, omitting nothing whatsoever. Starting from the beginning, he went through it all in detail: how, while he was asleep, a voice had invisibly called the boy, how the latter had stood before him, how many times the voice had come to him, and finally what he had learned from it—that the call was from God—and what that final utterance was, which had rung in his ears in a somewhat subtle way: that he should go to the seashore, where he would find those by whom he would quickly be carried across. Having said this, he ended with apologies and tears, claiming this to be the cause of his silence: that he feared, he said, that he might be found unworthy of belief, or even suspected of having contrived some evil against the youth.

And so spoke the archdeacon. Marcus, confirming what had been said by him regarding the boy, added that he too had had the life of Gregory clearly revealed and explored, and he began to speak in this way: ^C "While we were in our homeland of Rome, and were offering prayers in the temple of the chief Apostles, two formidable men stood before us and said to me, 'Arise, Mark, quickly, with the two monks who are with you, and set sail for Carthage; there, seek out a certain Sicilian Gregory, who was brought thither from the church of Agrigentum, and who lives in the company of a certain shipmaster named Varus, and clings entirely to him. Take him with you and bring him safely as far as Jerusalem; having arrived there, present him to the Patriarch, for we have instructed him concerning this one, as to what is necessary for him to do.' Having said these things, they vanished from my sight and eyes. ^D Therefore, when I was freed from sleep, I set out early for the river with these two monks, where I found a ship with sails spread, by God’s favor, making for Carthage. Having boarded it, we crossed over to Carthage, and upon entering the city, we found the youth at the church of the holy martyr Julian, devoted to reading; having embraced him and spoken to him, what he...

^A we had verified everything and, after circling around, had found the boy at the church of the holy martyr Julianus, given over to reading, and having addressed and embraced him, and having taught him all that had appeared to us and learned from him again the things concerning him, we took him—joyfully the joyful one—and brought him to the holy places, drawing all men to himself by the dexterity of his speech and the brilliance of his life, wherever he might be. When Mark had finished these things, something occurred that is worthy of account and memory. For the entire multitude, moved by the narrative as if by some Bacchic frenzy, leaped up with great and pleasant applause and raised their voices, filling the air with shouting and, at the same time, giving thanks for the wonder of the matter and glorifying the name of God. And [while] the multitude thus made the matter a common cause for rejoicing, the parents of Gregory, for the excess of their pleasure, very nearly fell into a state of ecstasy, and half-dead they collapsed upon the ground. For as excessive grief is often ecstatic, so pleasure is no less so, and a grave danger frequently arises from both.

^B XX. Then, rising up before Mark and barely coming to themselves, they were disbelieving, and perhaps from joy, according to the divine scripture: "While they still believed not for joy, and wondered." Hence they asked for confirmation of what was said, as if fearing that the things spoken were a dream; and they said, "Does our son truly live, our only-begotten, our most beloved?" But he affirmed that he was living, and living well in God. And that there might be nothing doubtful to them, he also described his appearance: that he was a youth of great beauty, and strongly resembled his father, ruddy of complexion, with bright eyes, a voice of exceeding sweetness, and sharp of hearing. ^C Then he also detailed as much as was possible of his character: that he was always thoughtful and reserved and looking downward, while tending the eyes of his soul upward and composed in every way; always diligent in the divine Scriptures and swift to both say and hear good things, but slow to utter a word. He would not tolerate hearing or speaking anything base, being the master of laughter if ever there was one. Furthermore, he was committed to intense labors and the roughest discipline. When the monk spoke these things and even more than these concerning Gregory, the assembly was filled with pleasure, and the praise of the child stood for the parents in the place of the child as a consolation. For they seemed to see him in person, hearing such clear traces and tokens of his soul. And these things went thus with them. ^D The monks, having spent three days there, decided to continue their journey, and having embarked on a ship and met with a favorable wind, they made haste and anchored at Panormus, and from there they reached their native Rome and their own monastery. And this was the end of their journey.

XXI. But Gregory, remaining in Jerusalem, as the narrative previously indicated, and running his own course—or rather, always conquering himself and

certans, is chosen as deacon by Patriarch Macarius. The divine Gregory petitioned him for leave to visit the Mount of Olives and the Fathers living in the solitude of that holy city. Having received permission, he began the journey that leads to the inner desert. Having traveled for three days, about the sixth hour he found a certain monk engaged in his customary prayers. Meeting him and entering into familiar conversation—for the monk had recognized that he was a profound lover of virtue—he took him as a companion of his life. After twenty days of traveling together with Gregory, he pointed out the place where the monk’s dwelling and two palm trees were. “Here, O son,” he said, pointing with his finger, “is a vast treasure hidden: a father most eminent in the praise of asceticism, and, if you desire it, your savior. Go forward, therefore, and knocking at the doors, you will have him come out to meet you; but if he happens to be chanting, join him in the psalmody while standing outside, and after he has finished, be careful henceforth not to fail in this pursuit.” Having said this much and embraced Gregory, he departed. ^B XXII. Now he, having bent his knees, lifted the eyes of his mind toward heaven, and prayed; then, having fortified himself with the sign of the cross, he went forward with confidence. And when he reached the place, he heard what sounded like a multitude singing. But upon approaching closer, he seemed to hear not a crowd, but only three people chanting. Struck by fear, he stood silently by the door. But the other, having finished his chant inside, looked through the lattice and called Gregory by name. And he, being even more terrified by the calling of his name and constrained by the one who called him, entered, fell at his feet, bathed in tears and sweat, and asked for his prayer. Having obtained his prayer, he stayed with the elder, and for four years he was instructed by him in grammar and all that is contained in the books of the poets, as well as rhetoric and that philosophy which is discerned by the mind and contemplation—for he had long since learned what pertains to the active life. The old man was indeed beautifully prepared in all these things and showed himself an ^C excellent teacher of Greek literature. Having thus enriched himself with the wealth of letters, and having made no less of an addition in morals and virtue, Gregory became attached to him, and being taught by him what trials were to beset him—for that divine man was, among other things, possessed of foresight of the future—he again departed for the holy places. Having lived there for a year, he went thence to Antioch, where he remained for another year; and having taken up study there, and having read many dogmatic discourses, and having himself composed not a few, he left the admiration of all behind him and proceeded to the great and royal city of Constantine, as divine Providence was entirely drawing him thither and, as it were, leading him forward to the rank to which he had been called.

^A XXIII. Having reached this place and obtained hospitality from a monk who loved virtue—who at that time was guiding the monastery of the holy martyrs Sergius and Bacchus—he thought it no small matter, first of all, to go through the golden discourses of John the Golden-Mouthed. For he was drawn by the siren song of that man, by the abundance of his thoughts, by the beauty of his words, and by seeing that new and greatly charming structure of his style, and because all his works were full of graces. And thence, being made to learn again the magnitude of that man's soul as much as was possible, he became inflamed in his own soul, and as he saw his life as a sort of most beautiful archetype, he hastened to imitate it with all his might. Thence he also gave himself over to more intense fasts, remained in vigils, and used unceasing prayers. And those things which he himself experienced toward the great John, the superior of that monastery also experienced toward him; for he too, seeing the extremity of his abstinence—for he did not eat for seven whole days, and even then only touched vegetables seasoned with nothing but salt—seeing these things, and his vigil which was almost beyond human strength, and not only that, but also his invincibility in labors, and his steadfastness and contemplativeness in prayer, he was filled with ^B astonishment. Unable to keep these things silent, he made the patriarch a partner in them and reported everything regarding him. And he, having heard, was greatly pleased, and he planned first to send some wise men, and through them to put him to the test; and then, to summon Gregory to himself. He also set the time for the arrival of the wise men as the night vigil, for during the day he was for the most part unseen and did not go out. And there were sent to him Maximus the philosopher and Constantine, who was at that time the chartophylax of the Church, men clever at speaking, and capable of judging those who spoke, and highly trained in philosophy, but also truly a Lydian stone for assessing the character and judgment of a man. These men, having met him and seen the noble cast of his soul and his pleasing character, his speech flowing more sweetly than honey, and his tongue superior to every problem proposed—for nothing of those matters concerning theology and those which seem of the most difficult resolution, which they proposed to him from the theologian’s [Gregory of Nazianzus] and the heavenly tongue, did they find ^C where he did not rather astonish them with his solution and move them to utter wonder—having learned these things by experience, they did not out of envy hide what was excellent; but rather, they returned as messengers and brilliant heralds to all others and to the patriarch himself, saying that Gregory alone among men was insuperable in both judgment and tongue.

^D XXIV. As this man appeared not to be someone to be overlooked, he was immediately summoned to the patriarch. And he was led unwillingly, as he was terribly in love with stillness, and was already looking toward his return, and the departure

^A for which he was hastening. Nevertheless, he was persuaded, and when he appeared in person before the high priest, being calm in character, venerable in appearance, and surpassing the Sirens themselves in the sweetness of his speech—not in fable, but in truth—he so forcefully captivated him and made him entirely his own that the patriarch would not accept to be without him for a moment. This was especially because there was nothing among the things proposed by those who were admired for their wisdom that he did not unravel with complete clarity and persuasiveness. Having thus spent twenty whole days there, admired by all for both his wisdom and his exceeding kindness and moderation, he again mentioned his departure. But since the patriarch would not let him go, but rather sought to detain him with every means, citing other reasons and also that at that time the heresy of the Monothelites was ^B greatly spreading, and he alone was able to easily break their knots, he was persuaded to remain, though against his will. Now the war had been proclaimed everywhere; on one side were Sergius, Pyrrhus, Paul, and Cyrus, who had already been declared heretics, and on the other, all those who held fast to the true piety. He, however, although they were still positioned far away, routed the heterodox with his hurled and brandished darts, having composed treatises on the dogma and demonstrated all their opinions to be ridiculous and mere trifles.

XXV. When the battle had openly broken out, the leaders of the heresy arrived, and the champions of the orthodox also flowed together. There was present the bishop of Antioch, the bishop of Alexandria, and the president of Jerusalem, along with all the leaders ^C of the East, and likewise all from the West, except for the prelates of older Rome and of Sardinia (for a serious illness had held them within their own territories). But the Roman bishop had dispatched a man learned in the Holy Scriptures to act in his stead. Gregory, in turn, filled the place of the Sardinian. When, therefore, a great contest regarding the Holy Scriptures had arisen that day (as was to be expected), with some relying on the substance of the facts and others on the confidence of words—while the heretics used sharp and persuasive speech, by which they thought to obscure the truth—that truly noble man, unconquerable of tongue, then even more sharpened by the cooperation of grace, so shattered their knots by the power of his Word and ^D Spirit, and so rendered those who were most prepared for speaking mute, that he seemed almost to have removed their tongues, and they, further, fell into silence and confessed that they were defeated. The synod of the Fathers applauded, while among the multitude of the heretics, some, and these the more prominent ones, having laid aside their error, adhered to our side; others, however, the majority, did not dare to come forward out of shame. Such was the outcome of the synod, and Gregory alone was on everyone's lips, and especially those of the Fathers, who were in great admiration.

XXVI. While others were admiring him and offering prayers for him, the high priest took him with him and brought him to the ruler. "This," he said, "O excellent king, this—"

^A is the victor, this is the rampart of our faith. Then the king and the whole senate standing around received him with admiration and praises. Having shortly thereafter given thanks to God, they escorted him with much reverence and honor. Later, the ruler summoned him privately, and, entering into conversation with him, learned who he was, whence he came, what regions of the world he had traversed, what the reason for such a pilgrimage was in the end, and what purpose he set for himself after these things. Being greatly amazed at his wisdom, he regarded him as something greater than a man and confessed that he owed many thanks to God and His high priest for his having come into his sight. ^B But Gregory, holding to his former resolve, was very uneasy about his stay and the honor there, and by every means sought for his departure. Indeed, he found this through a certain Marcianus, who was intimate with the king, and he was sent off under certain conditions: that he would go to Rome, and having looked upon the beauties there, and having become a worshipper of the chief apostles, he would return again with speed to remain with the king for the future. But before he could reach Rome, the bishops sent by the Pope to the council had reached there before him; they filled the Pope himself, and all those in the region, with miracle regarding him. He appeared to them as well, and by his very presence, he caused more amazement than by what they heard. Fleeing the crowds, he decided to live quietly at the monastery of St. Sabas, avoiding continuous social calls and speaking with no one at all without proper cause. ^C

XXVII. While these things were taking place with Gregory, Theodore, the bishop of Agrigentum, who had already been ordained after Potamion, also departed this life. A dissension arose among the people, with some proposing one person and others another, as is wont to happen in such suffrage disputes, and confusion seized the multitude. For some were eager to seat a certain priest named Sabinus on the throne, others Crescentinus, others the archdeacon Euplus, and others yet another. Each faction, seeking the validation of his candidate from the Pope, crossed over to Rome and referred these matters, according to custom, to the Pope. Chariton, the father of Gregory, was also with them. ^D When they had entered into his presence, those supporting Sabinus stood in one place, those supporting Crescentinus on the other side, and those supporting Euplus and the others placed themselves behind them. And when they were asked whom they wished to be ordained as their bishop, some requested Sabinus, others Crescentinus. But the Pope, turning to those who were with Euplus, said: "And to you, what seems best?" They answered through Chariton: "The one who seems best to God and to your discernment, that is what we desire to happen. For whatever you approve by your judgment, we deem that this is certainly also what is pleasing to God." Then the Pope, to those who were with Sabinus and Crescentinus, having agreed…

said, "Designate with one mind some one from among all of you who is most agreeable to you." But they answered nothing sensible; instead, they caused a tumult and shamefully abused one another. The Pope, angered by their shameless faction, ordered them to be expelled. Three days later, having called together those around Euplus and Chariton, he made them partakers in his counsel. They, too, said that the vote of God must prevail, and that they would elect him whom He should openly approve.

^B XXVIII. The Pope, therefore, being in doubt and praying fervently to God that He might make manifest from heaven who was approved by Him, saw in a dream two men standing before him; their appearance and dress were apostolic. They seemed to say to him, "Why do you torment your soul with grief on account of the contention of those who are at odds? These men who are brought to you by them for ordination are by no means worthy of the undertaking. But there is another man in this city, a stranger, adorned in character and dear to God; his name is Gregory. He was for a time lodging in the monastery of Saint Sabas; but when he learned that these men had arrived in the city, he hid himself all the more, and now lies concealed in the sacred shrine of Saint Mercurius. Summon this man, and having invested him with the prelacy of the Church of Agrigento, send him with all possible speed to Sicily; for the man is both worthy of the priesthood and most suitable for the governing of that Church." Having said these things, and at the same time having revealed his physical appearance, they vanished. When he was released from sleep, full of fear and joy, he shared the vision with the monk Mark. This was that same Mark whom the previous narrative had already identified as the fellow traveler sent by God to Gregory to accompany him back to his native Rome. He, rejoicing with the high priest concerning the vision, advised him to act as quickly as possible according to what had been seen. And so, select men were sent in search, who also knew him well, along with two of the bishops who had previously returned from the council, and another priest who was also known to him, was added as a companion. They first went to the monastery of Saint Sabas, and learning that he had departed two days earlier and had moved to the monastery of Saint Mercurius, they hurried there as well, and found him just as he was about to leave. He, having caught sight of them from afar, recognized who they were by their faces; and surmising what they wanted, he ran into the garden and hid himself in the middle of the plants.

^D XXIX. When they went to the superior of the same monastery and demanded Gregory forcefully, saying they would hold him liable if he let him go, the man, in a state of suspense and anxiety, gained a little time from the bishops; but they did not desist, and having searched and examined every part of the monastery, they also went around the garden, and casting their eyes more carefully over the trees, he sees him hidden in their midst. Accur-

-^Aately rushing up, therefore, and taking his hand, he led him out to those who were searching, at once furious and shouting that he was, it seems, guilty of great crimes, and for this reason was being sought by such men, that he had come as a fugitive to the monastery and brought no small danger upon them by hiding. And he indeed thought that matters were so; but Gregory, having said nothing, since he had no reason to answer him, went out in silence. But when the bishops saw him and recognized him, overcome by reverence for him, they fell immediately to their knees, and embraced every limb of his, thinking they were doing nothing great if they, too, did not show the honor to one whom they had seen honored with such high regard by both the chief Fathers in the synod and the emperor himself. Nor did the divine Gregory, being exceedingly humble, requite them with any less honor; and then, having heard who the person calling him was, he followed, obeying God who was ordaining these things in this way. In the meantime, Mark was recounting to the Pope the life of that man from his childhood, and enumerating the good qualities of his character, and how, through a divine vision, he had taken him from Sicily and brought him to the holy places. Likewise, the Pope also shares with Mark what he had heard from those who had come down from the synod, and how even there, flashing with words, he had stopped the mouths of the heretics.

Δ΄. While they were conversing with one another about these things, the bishops arrived, having Gregory with them. And when he was near, the Pope, comparing the traces of his features with the vision he had seen, was convinced that he was beholding that very man who had been shown to him in his sleep. Therefore, having greeted him most affectionately, and having uttered words of thanksgiving befitting the occasion, ^C he orders him to be seated upon a throne. Mark was also present with them, sitting nearby, whom when Gregory saw, his eyes filled with tears of joy, and he leaped up from the throne as he was, and taking hold of his feet, he poured forth myriad prayers of thanksgiving to God, saying: "Glory to You, O Lord King, glory to You. Behold, again, my Savior and my guide, the beginning of my hope." Then, addressing Mark himself, he says: "Behold, Father, the end promised to me by you has now reached its fulfillment, and we see one another again in this present life." As Gregory said these things to Mark, not without tears, those present were amazed, and participating in his joy, they shared in his tears as well. But the Pope, having dismissed all those who were standing by, and ordering only two of the bishops and Gregory to remain, relates everything as the drama had occurred: the uproar of the crowds, the dilemma that had seized him, and then the divine vision that had appeared to him; and that he had already been ordained from above as Bishop ^D of the Church of the Agrigentines. When the Pope had spoken thus, Gregory was hesitant regarding the priesthood and

insisted that he was unworthy of so great a matter. But when the Pope still would not relent, but kept exhorting and simultaneously striking fear into him, the holy Gregory, fearing lest he appear in some way to be behaving insolently and, to his own detriment, opposing the will of God, requested a short time for reflection. Then, spending the night with the monk Mark, he gave himself over to prayer, without allowing sleep to overtake him for even a brief moment during the whole night. ^A

XXXI. Hearing, however, that his father Chariton too was present among the other Agrigentines, he no longer thought it worthwhile to contend further with the matter at hand, but turned his whole mind toward taking flight. But Mark, having perceived his departure through divine providence—with God, without a doubt, moving his tongue—spoke at length to him about the necessity of remaining. Finally, he recalled to his mind the prophecy of the divine elder with whom he had happened to spend four whole years, as we have already related in our account, studying philosophy. “Did not that man, old in days and full of virtues, endowed with divine wisdom, to whom you went long ago for the sake of discipline—did he not, I say, prophesy these very things to you long ago? Will you, I ask, be so poorly disposed toward your own reasoning? For the rewards laid up in heaven for so many labors, will you bring back wrath, and for beneficence, a curse?” By speaking these and many such things to him, Mark with difficulty restrained his impulse. Not many days passed before he [the Pope] ordered all the Sicilians to be present. ^B Having learned through Mark that Chariton was Gregory's father, he stared at the man with fixed eyes, observing him as secretly as he could, and examining him most accurately—comparing his figure and appearance, he marveled at how greatly they resembled one another. As for the rest of the multitude (since a large crowd was present), “Come,” he said, “let us all go with one mind and one voice to the holy temple of the chief Apostles, in hymns and psalms, to supplicate God; and upon whomever some wondrous sign shall appear, he shall undoubtedly be the one who will assume the care of this people.” He said this, and straightway the whole city was set in motion, and all went out, as many as were among the men and women, and as many as were in authority and those subject to them.

XXXII. When they began the divine liturgy, Gregory, to whom the divine Gospel had been entrusted to read, read it so tunefully and so skillfully that he filled the souls of the listeners with grace and pleasure. ^C As soon as the Gospel was finished, a dove fluttering from the altar settled upon his head. Wherefore the whole people, affected by astonishment (as was expected), and filled with both joy and wonder, no longer prayed to have it determined for them whether he who had been designated bishop now appeared to be one who should be created by God. Therefore, on the following day, he is created bishop and delivered to the Agrigentines—or rather, to this man, as to a good shepherd, rational sheep are entrusted by the supreme Pontiff. ^D While Gregory was staying in Rome, these things happened to him. Mark was with him,

^A having been foretold, reminding him of his former ascetic practice, and encouraging him to bear courageously the temptations that were to come upon him. One night, Chariton, Gregory’s father, got up from his bed—for neither had forgetfulness of his child seized him, nor had time softened his sorrow, but his inward parts were torn asunder and his heart was agitated; and then, having taken to mind his dearest child, he rose up, as if also intoxicated by his suffering, and at the dead of night arrived at their place. Then, with tears and sighs, he called out for the boy, and, as if to one who knew, he lamented the misfortune to Mark, and at the same time begged for comfort for his suffering through their prayers. Mark bade him be confident, and reminded him of what he himself had long ago foretold to him concerning the boy, that he would see him, and that, "Be of good hope," he said, "for I shall not falsify my promise." ^B

XXXIII. Chariton heard these things, and his heart immediately leapt; he was suspended in hope, and yet seized all the more by anxiety. For how could he have recognized Gregory, who had not seen him for so long a time, and who had changed both in age and in carriage, and—what is more—who had worn away his bloom through such self-control and through hardship? But he, Gregory, recognized his father, though he did not recognize him, and listening to his father’s words, he was inwardly moved and his soul was stirred; yet he restrained himself and held back his tears. Then, inquiring of Chariton, "Where, good man," he said, "is the mother of this boy now, where is she? And how much time has passed since he was lost?" He replied that his mother was alive and mourning at home, and that thirteen years had passed since the boy was lost. ^C Here, Gregory (for what else was he to do?), taking to mind his mother’s tears, and now seeing those of his father, and not bearing to see him so grievously beaten down, and at the same time overcome by the affection of kinship, filled his eyes with tears, and leaping up from his seat, he threw himself at his father’s feet. "Father," he said, "I am your son; I, dearest father, am Gregory, whom you seek so earnestly, the sprout of your prayers, he who according to your wish was consecrated to God from the very womb. ^D Yet, father, may you be merciful to me for this drama, and do not blame me for the suffering, as I have been the cause of many tears for you." This he said, and at the same time, embracing him, he kissed his father. An inexpressible joy seized his father’s heart, and by the superabundance of happiness, his tongue was bound. Then, fixing his eyes more steadily upon Gregory, and searching his features more curiously—and as one might say, tracking him with precision—and being fully persuaded that he was his dearest one, truly the most longed-for Gregory, he likewise embraced him and kissed him most affectionately, and wept with him as he wept from joy. When at last their weeping had ceased, Mark took them both and kept them with him throughout the whole night, many times giving thanks to the Lord with him.

^A When morning broke, the Agrigentines once more presented themselves before the Pontiff; and along with them was Chariton, and the divine Gregory himself, whom they recognized from the joy they had derived, clearly signifying to the people both by his bearing and his countenance. The Pontiff, therefore, having given appropriate exhortations, and having instructed them on how they ought in all things to obey Gregory and be shepherded by him, shared in the joy with Chariton; and having handed over his son and given them also Bishop Felix—to whom the task of installing Gregory had been entrusted—he sent them away rejoicing, while he himself rejoiced.

But when they had reached the city of the Panormitans, a certain man, a monk in habit, but leprous in body, ran up and, seizing the feet of Gregory, cried out with many tears and wails, begging for relief from his affliction. The latter said, "If you believe that nothing is impossible for God, behold, be healed in his name." He said these things, and the leper was cleansed. Those who saw it were amazed, and with hands raised up, they glorified God, so wondrous in his saints. From there they descended to the river where the market, so-called Peripolion, was.

When it became known to the townspeople that Gregory had arrived with someone completely unknown to them—for they had not yet heard what had happened concerning Chariton—their bishops returned, greatly disturbed and filled with perplexity; for they had expected that the lot would fall to one of those put forward by themselves. Nevertheless, they all ran out in a body to meet them, among whom the abbot of the monastery there also met them, which they named after the all-holy Virgin and Mother of God. Thus, as he stepped from the boat, they made their encounter with Gregory amidst the crowd. He, however, having signaled silence to the people with his hand, knelt down and prayed, and after the prayer, proceeded to the temple.

^C XXXV. While he was making his way, a certain monk who was deranged, being able neither to speak nor to hear at all, met them and fell at his feet. The abbot was trying to push away the man who was falling down and would not allow him to touch his feet; but the holy Gregory, having commanded him by no means to drive him away, sighed deeply, and shedding a tear of compassion, raised his hands to heaven and said, "Lord Jesus Christ, our God, who created heaven and earth, who at your holy presence didst heal lepers, open deaf ears, and loosen the bonds of tongues, do you yourself, by your invisible power, heal this servant of yours, that your all-holy name may always be glorified." ^D He said this, and taking hold of the monk, he raised him up and said, "In the name of Jesus Christ, who commanded the deaf and dumb demon to depart from his own creature, speak aright, hear, and praise God who made you."

The word had not yet reached its end when it was already being translated into deed; and the man who was previously devoid of voice began to shout: "Great are your works, Christ, which you perform through this righteous man." Then the blessed one added, "For how long a time," he said, "has your voice been bound?" showing next that he remembered whether he had heard a voice

or had been able to speak even a little. The superior of the monastery stated that he had been there for eight years from the time he was tonsured, but that he had stayed in the monastery for twenty years in total. Great fear then fell upon all who were present, and God was magnified by everyone.

^{A B C} XXXVI. As he was entering the city, a great multitude came out to meet him, not of the common sort, but of those who excelled others in honor and dignity. For that deaf and dumb man had moved their souls and stirred them up, and had vehemently inflamed them with love for Gregory; for he, running ahead of them wherever he went, seemed always to be a brilliant herald of the miracle that had been accomplished. While so many others were coming out to meet him, the holy mother of Gregory, along with the other venerable women, stood inside the city gate, already having heard in a certain way about what concerned her son; for Chariton, her husband, was not so neglectful as not to make his wife, even though she was far away, a partaker of such great joy; yet, she was still hanging in suspense in her mind over the paradox of the matter, and unable to fully believe what was being said. But when she saw her son coming from afar and recognized his face—for when he was still a child he was in all respects similar to his father, as has already been declared, and having become a man, he again preserved the traces of that resemblance—and therefore, completely recognizing him, since nothing doubtful remained, but Gregory was clearly acknowledged as her son, she was filled with tears in her eyes and joy in her heart, and she said truly to herself, "You are not a liar," she said, "you who spoke these things to me long ago, that even in the present life I should see my son living and with glory." But the mother meant these things regarding Mark; and as for him who was then her father according to the spirit, as soon as he drew near and recognized his mother recognizing him, he embraced her very sweetly and, after only a greeting—for the time did not allow for lingering over these things—he entered the temple with the whole crowd. And as the divine mystery was being celebrated, the bishop who had come to install him, and certain of the other worthy men, saw from above the same dove as of old, again flying down and overshadowing Gregory.

^D XXXVII. When these things became evident, as much to those who saw them as to those who heard from the witnesses, the city realized that it should delay no longer; but knowing well who he was, they immediately brought forward all those they had who were possessed by demons, or paralyzed, or otherwise held by chronic diseases, carrying them to him. The great Gregory immediately healed them by prayer alone and by the touch of his hands. And he thus cared for their bodies, but he also treated their souls abundantly through these means, instructing them and showing them that most of these ailments were attached to a cause stemming from the soul; and when that was turned for the better, these things received their healing more quickly. First of all...

he himself was for them a most beautiful pattern, living in such a way as the discourse has previously shown, or rather, distancing himself so much and showing the mean of both lives to such a degree as were possible given the excellence of his dignity. ^A After these things, he appointed over them men, both priests and deacons, by whom divine things and those which are beyond us might be performed; and by watching and imitating them, they were destined to become excelling in virtue. Of these holy men, some became illustrious, but among these, Erasmus, Platonicus, and Philadelphus shone forth most clearly, who, for the most part, being with him and, as far as was possible, imitating his life, became most distinguished in the entire community. And these matters were thus transacted.

XXXVIII. Some days later, as the blessed man was going around the city in order to visit the sick with paternal compassion, other great things were brought to pass, greater in number and magnitude than speech can embrace; but one thing, which will be pleasing to your ears, we shall bestow. A certain presbyter, Sabinus, had a young daughter, who was indeed beautiful and very charming, but already oppressed by a chronic disease, and for nine whole years she had not been able to move at all. When he heard that the blessed man was passing through, he, together with his wife, brought her out and placed her, like an inanimate weight, before the vestibule; ^B for the great man was about to pass that way. As he drew near the place, the girl’s mother, as is the way with mothers, and especially over a daughter at such an age of blossoming youth, cried out most sorrowfully, and running, cast herself at his feet. He, having asked what she needed, and having learned the cause, pitied both her and Sabinus in their calamity; and having knelt down, he prayed, saying: "Lord Jesus Christ, our God, look down even now upon the prayer of thy servant, and hearken to me, thy humble servant, today, and visit this maiden, raising her up by the grace and power of thy all-holy Spirit." ^C Having said this, and risen, he signed the girl with the sign of the cross, and in the name of Christ he said, "Arise and stand upon your feet." Thus he spoke, and she stood up, and all thanksgiving was sent up to God. For the entire multitude of the city was following the holy man, and, as was natural, was astonished at the things done by him. Having traveled through the whole city and provided for all things necessary, he returned again to the church with the whole clergy; and having performed the divine liturgy, he set a table for the ecclesiastical assembly, the widows, and all the orphans; and he himself, girded with a simple cloth, ministered together with the three aforementioned deacons, Erasmus, Philadelphus, and Platonicus. Nor, indeed, was his mother absent ^D from such a ministry; rather, she herself, together with all the handmaids who were present, ministered to the widows, washing their feet and offering every other service of piety. In this, Gregory was diligently occupied, so that those initiated in the sacred rites might be led to virtue...

and prepared to meditate upon the divine oracles, and to unfold their meaning as best he could.

^A XXXIX. But since it is impossible for anyone pursuing virtue with such zeal to escape the envy of the evil demon, it is time now to relate what temptations he fell into. For Sabinus and Crescentinus, whom our narrative has already shown to have been designated by the multitude as bishops, both entered into a pact and conspired together—for they had long harbored mutual rivalries. "How long," they said, "shall we be subject to this impostor and sorcerer, who stirs up the wonder of the more guileless foreigners with magic and theatrical displays of the sort he acquired by staying with a certain magus after fleeing from here, from whom he drained every evil art, deceiving people like that Simon of old who became a demon in human form? For do you not see that he neither eats nor drinks at all, which is exactly what demons do?" Having said these things to one another, they took into their confidence some of the clergy; they also drew away no small part of the people, and having bound one another with oaths, they devised a drama worthy of the evil art that had moved them to this. For they approached a certain licentious woman, ^B remarkable for her beauty, by the name of Eudocia, and having bribed her with money—alas for such ignorance!—they compelled her to bear witness against the bishop, claiming that he had been intimate with her. When they had thus concocted their plot, they sought an opportunity by which they might be able to smuggle her into the bishop's residence. They therefore watched for an hour at which the great man was accustomed to go down to the church in the middle of the night, together with those three deacons most intimate to him, to perform the customary prayers. At this time, the conspirators, having bribed the porters with money, brought the girl into the great man's chamber and stood her in a corner. But he, ^C when he had already finished his prayers, ascended to his room, and taking a book in his hands, attentively perused the life—I mean that of John Chrysostom—at once illustrious in his writings and supreme in his character and genius.

XL. Furthermore, the girl, having just been plunged into a deep sleep, did not perceive the great man entering, and neither, in turn, did he see the girl. Whence, I ask, could that innocent and immaculate soul have suspected that a girl was hidden there as best she could, and that she had willfully cast herself there in secret? He, therefore, after the reading, made for the morning hymns; when these were finished, he returned together with the entire clergy and those of the people who had gathered with him. Then he began to exhort them and offer salutary counsel, ^D and he labored, as he was accustomed to do almost every day, to refresh their souls with the reading of the divine Scriptures. Then those of Crescentinus, rushing in like wild beasts, seized the girl and placed her before the people, filling everything with shouting, disturbance, and confusion. They, the dissolute, the unholy, the unworthy—wicked men in very truth—shouted against the utterly holy man, and together with the rest of the people, they displayed the courtesan, asserting nothing less than that

^A they were pointing her out to the multitude. The others, seeing these things, were struck with amazement and doubt, for they beheld that corrupt woman present inside the small bedchamber, while knowing precisely the life of the great man to be one that opposed and fought against such suspicions. But the sycophants, laying hands upon the holy man in the midst of the episcopal residence—O demonic madness!—dragged him away; there, the multitude also raised a cry, grieving bitterly with tears, as though each one of them were himself suffering these things. Thus, all were mourning terribly for him, except for a few most wicked men and such as had shared in the conspiracy with the unholy. Those, however, who were of the better portion, having suspected what the drama was, asked the time when, according to her own account, she had come in. She, as she had been instructed, said it was after the evening hymns, at about the first watch of the night. When Philadelphus the deacon answered this with that prophetic verse, “Let lying lips be made silent, which speak lawlessness against the righteous,” ^B the unholy Crescentius ran and struck him upon the head. At this, the whole multitude rose up against him, and would have torn him to pieces in a moment, had not the great man turned around and restrained them with an exhortation, while himself offering to be led readily by those dragging him. This, indeed, was the very thing that most gave the people cause for suspicion, as he offered himself as though he were a guilty man; they said, “Could it be that the things brought forward by the accusers are actually true, and that for this reason, having his conscience accusing him within, he is able not only to take no action but not even to speak against them?” And these things unsettled them.

XLI. Meanwhile, however, those wicked men prevailed in the sedition, cast the holy man out of the house, and delivered him into custody, securing his feet in the stocks; and that was the very prison which had also seen the great Gregory the Libyan, who accepted a martyr’s end for Christ. As the rumor, therefore, ran through everyone, a great multitude gathered at the doors of the prison; and some of them attempted to break down the gates with their own hands and feet, while others attempted to tear them down with iron bars, and there were also some who, having formed gangs among the people, wished to kill Sabinus and Crescentius. But the disciple and emulator of Christ, perceiving these things that they were meditating, urged them from within, saying: ^C “Do not you, O children, deliberate anything of the sort against them, nor may it happen that any of you defile hands and soul for my sake; do not go to such an extent, children, of misfortune, or rather, my ruin. It is better that I rather be destroyed; therefore they must be permitted to rage against a miserable man. But refrain from breaking down the doors and from all tumult, and pray, and await vengeance from the Lord. And if anyone should cause you trouble ^D

^A there also, endure it, and forgive my guards for this injury; for they will not determine anything worse against me than the wild beasts would. By these words it was sufficiently clear that he did not fear death, but was acting in this way so that, while they were occupied and focused on the prison, he might turn them back from their initial indignation; and at the same time, that he might constitute them as spectators of a magnificent miracle, which was immediately to follow. For while the multitude, in accordance with the holy man's word, were remaining outside, he himself, having bent his knees within, was praying, and was giving thanks to God for all things. And in the middle of the night, God caused a brilliant light to shine down upon him from above for his consolation, which also illuminated the whole prison. ^B An angel stood by him, broke his bonds, and having strengthened him with words, and having embraced him to show a greater intimacy—for he was invisible to others—the prison gates opened of their own accord. And the people, seeing these things, were struck with amazement. Tears were added to tears, as the sorrow of former times gave way to the joy and wonder-working of the present. Being thus full of awe and gladness, they fell at the feet of the great man, saying, "Now we know that God is with you." And at the same time, they were being prepared all the more readily to act, wishing with all zeal both to suffer and to do everything on his behalf.

^C 42. And Sabinus and Crescentinus, those most wretched men, would have been seized and slaughtered on the spot, had not the truly divine man once again earnestly entreated them, and struck no small fear into them by detailing the evils of murder and all the calamities that were destined to follow from it, adding at the last that if they wished to dare such things, they must first kill him, and only thus proceed to the others. Having spoken thus, he with difficulty put a stop to their impulse. Summoning Sabinus and Crescentinus, so that they too might see what had occurred, "Why, I pray you," he said, "do you keep me shut up here, when it is in your power to hand me over to death, or even to send me away, once judged, wherever you yourselves might wish?" But they, both hearing what was said and being themselves unerring witnesses of the deeds done, were not at all the more shamed, nor did they feel any other reaction to his such great gentleness; ^D because after such great and remarkable things had been miraculously accomplished in his regard, they made themselves masters of his own body; rather, they answered him with extreme desperation and insolence, saying that they had sent letters concerning him to the Exarch, and that when he arrived, all the matters concerning him would be examined with precision. It came to pass, and when the Exarch had already arrived and had taken his seat in the middle of the city, those around Sabinus, along with the adulteress, presented themselves, and the saint was led from the prison, accompanied by a great crowd. These, speaking out before the Exarch, recounted the other miracles of Gregory and how he had restored to health the daughter of this very Sabinus, who had been bedridden for so many years, whom they called a second Judas, for rewarding his benefactor with evil just as that one had done. And in addition to all these things, they also set forth that which had recently occurred at the prison, and that it was not fitting to bring such a man even to a defense.

^A Since even to be judged without a synod, they said, was the most unjust thing of all. As the multitude cried out such things, the exarch was visibly struck with fear; wherefore he rose from the judgment seat and said that all things must be referred to the Sovereign Pontiff. Nevertheless, so that he might have something to report when he arrived before him, he summoned Sabinus and Crescentinus and, in their presence, asked the girl if these things which they reported concerning that man were altogether true. And she indeed confessed. Upon this being said, she was seized by an impure spirit, cast to the ground, and immediately, being a wretched sight, fell prostrate at the feet of the holy man, gnashing her teeth and foaming at the mouth. ^B A great terror suddenly seized those who were present, so that they thought nothing more needed to be asked concerning the things stated by the exarch, especially those who were of sound mind and whose souls were not greatly blinded. But the wicked sycophants who followed Sabinus, fearing nothing concerning this illustrious man, caviled and said: "What need have we of other witnesses, when God Himself by His own will makes us more certain?" They ascribed all things to sorcery, and called the divine power of the miracles an imposture. But the wife of Sabinus, together with her daughter who a short time before had been blind and deaf, and many others of those who had been healed, threw themselves down at the feet of the blessed man, weeping, and besought him not to harbor indignation for the injuries received in return for his kindness, because of the scolding and petulance of others and the blasphemy of the impious. Moreover, the same wife of Sabinus, indignant for just cause, looked sternly at her husband and began to rebuke him sharply, saying: "Begone from me, you wicked man, an adversary both to me and to yourself, who repay with such things a man who is our savior and benefactor, who by his word alone restored our little daughter to health! And do these things, O wretch, not incite repentance in your mind even now, as you look upon them?" ^C When the woman said such things, Sabinus changed color and his face fell, and he was utterly bereft of speech, the judgment having advanced to this point.

XLIII. Since the exarch had nothing further to decide from his own authority, the blessed man was again cast into prison until all these things should be made known to the Sovereign Pontiff. The rest of the multitude followed, trailing him with myriad praises, while they pelted the sycophants with many insults. ^D When evening had already overtaken them, since it had been decided to send the holy man to the Pontiff, it seemed best to the exarch to lead him out of the city secretly in the dead of night, while the whole population slept, through the gate which leads toward the sea; for he had noted that the multitude would not permit it if they were to find out—which indeed fell out as he had intended. For he went out of the city in secret. But his parents (for they were not ignorant of what was happening) followed their son, weeping bitterly and lamenting; and albeit they easily conjectured, from those things which had already preceded, what the end of these matters would be, still, as parents, they felt their hearts

^A But the blessed man endeavored to quiet their tears and urged them to maintain silence. And when he drew near to the shore, after exhorting them to pray for him, he embarked upon the ship with a cheerful mind. No one accompanied him, however, save only Platonikos, who took care of what was necessary for his service. ^B Being on the point of setting sail, he testified many things to them concerning the Church and the flock, telling them that they would render an account to God for the things done against it. Even so, they did not desist from their wickedness; for indeed, the exarch was such a man that, in these matters, he did not differ at all from the slanderers, and in other things he took the side of the accusers. And at that time, answering, he said: "Let there be no talk from you, O Gregory, about the Church; for we have found such a man to put in your place, that not even your adversaries have anything to find fault with in him." He was saying this about a certain heretic, Eleusios, who had frequently disputed in the East with Gregory concerning the wondrous dogmas of the economy of Christ and, having been as often refuted, had long since become his enemy. At that time, while hiding with one of the citizens, he was the one who was mixing this cup of slander for Gregory, whispering to the slanderers and setting the whole stage of the drama for them, to whom they had then entrusted the affairs of the episcopacy. ^C But although they said these things and sent him away to sail, the leaders of the Agrigentines and the rest of the multitude, when they gathered at the prison at dawn and did not find Gregory, began to be troubled and to lament. Believing that he had been secretly put to death, they stirred up a harsh sedition against the exarch and his wicked council. And first, taking fire, they set ablaze the houses of the slanderers Sabinus and Crescentinus; then, they rushed to lay hands upon them as well. But they, having fled to the church, escaped the danger, for Chariton, arriving on the heels of the crowd, prevented them from slaughtering them inside the holy place, and with much shouting, with difficulty turned them away from their undertaking. And thus the sedition had its end. ^D When the holy man reached Rome, the Pope received the letter from the exarch and, having read what was written, filled with both astonishment and anger, did not even deem it worthy for the holy man to come into his sight. But, without a trial, he ordered him to be dragged and abused and given over to prison, and to have chains put upon his hands and his feet. And he, even though so badly treated and cast into the dungeon and bound, was in all things the same as himself, and he made his disgrace no small occasion for giving thanks to God. And so that he might be even more bereft of comfort, being hemmed in by so many troubles, he did not even allow his deacon Platonikos into the prison with him, but they locked him away in a different place. As he was surrounded by such great annoyances, to have more consolation

^A XLIV. Meanwhile, while the blessed man was suffering his bonds and keeping watch in prayer, as was his custom, in the middle of the night, a great light shone round about him; and behold, two men, resembling the apostles in form and appearance, stood before him and addressed him with these words: "Hail, servant of Christ and beloved to us, Gregory. The Lord has sent us to release you from the bonds with which you have been unjustly bound, and we, acknowledging your endurance and patience, are here to rejoice with you. For it is also necessary that this city should enjoy the many signs that will be performed by you." As soon as they had said these things, they touched the bonds, which immediately fell from his hands and feet. They then embraced the trembling Gregory, who was rising and giving thanks, and departed, vanishing from his sight. They then approached Platon, released him also, and led him to where Gregory was, leaving him there. He, as if he had seen these things in a dream, after he came to himself and beheld Gregory, was filled with amazement and joy, and turned entirely to giving thanks to God.

Beyond these things, another event took place at that very hour. For the prison guard had a son who had long been possessed by an unclean spirit, whom he had bound to a pillar near his house and kept watch over. At that time, the demon by which he was tormented broke the bonds, and violently driving the boy, threw him at the feet of the saint. This also disturbed his prayer, for the boy was crying out, rolling on the ground, and foaming at the mouth. But he, not even then ceasing from his prayer, but rather lifting both his eyes and his mind to heaven, called upon Him who is able to rebuke a legion of spirits, ^B and then, laying his hand upon the sufferer, he drove away the demon just as a master drives away a wicked, runaway servant; and thus he delivered him from the demon.

XLV. But the prison guard, having awoken from sleep and not seeing his son bound to the pillar, and thinking that he had been thrown upon stones or into water by the mad demon, began to lament most bitterly, and beating his face, he mourned for him as one already dead. But looking more carefully at the prison and seeing that its doors were open and that a light was illuminating it, he began to tear the hair from his head and again to beat his face, thinking that the holy man had escaped. But when he looked inside ^C and saw him standing there and singing, and Platon with him, and—most importantly—his own son standing there, composed and in a modest and sober manner, his soul was filled with astonishment. And guessing the truth, that the righteous man had performed these miraculous things, he ran and fell at his feet, partly giving thanks for what he had suffered, and partly, because of what he had done in putting the bonds upon him, asking for forgiveness. From that time on, with great fear, he served the holy man and in every way [...]

^A He was serving the holy man with fear, and striving diligently to perform every service for him. As the report, therefore, spread everywhere, a certain noblewoman, having a young daughter who was bent double to the ground, took this child with her and came to the holy man in the prison. Taking hold of his feet, she said, "Have mercy on my child, just as Christ, whose imitator you are, once raised the woman who was bent double." He replied to her, "This is the work of God alone; but since I see that you possess a rich faith—for Christ says that all things are possible to him who believes—the outcome corresponding to your faith shall follow." Having spoken thus, and having prayed and laid his hand upon the child, he immediately showed her to be whole; the mother, at once taking her who had been cured, was filled with joy and rendered thanks to God, and she also took back the one who had brought her home. ^B Many such things Gregory continued to do while he was in the prison; and when he had spent a whole time there, the Pope, as if reminded of the matters concerning him, summoned Mark, of whom we have already spoken many times. When he arrived, the Pope with anger rehearsed to him all the things concerning Gregory: how he had been brought to him as a prisoner, having supposedly been caught in fornication, and how he had been sent by him to the prison, and even now continues to endure there. But Mark sighed deeply, for he knew what kind of man he was speaking about; he was clear in his mind about those who had fabricated the charges against Gregory, and at the same time he was lamenting those who had been persuaded. He said nothing else but, "May my portion, O Lord, be with him when we stand for judgment before the common Judge." When the Pope heard this statement, as if humbled ^C by the word, he showed Mark the letter that had been sent against Gregory, defending himself as though he had not believed it rashly and at random, but that he himself had believed the things written against him, and had not deemed it right to leave such a base act unjudged. When Mark had read the letter, and as if laughing at what was written, he said, "It is by the deeds themselves, O master, that his affairs must be determined, and it must be examined by following the path of justice; and then you will know clearly what sort of man this is, whether he is a friend of a harlot or something else—I will not say more. You shall know it yourself quickly, and if you wish, you even know it already." The Pope, anticipating his remark, said, "I myself know what you wish to say; you mean that a great divine grace was upon him, but that as he fell, it also departed." And he spoke these things as a man who does not see the things that are, ^D indeed, not looking into the heart, as the divine word says.

XLVII. Afterward, when the Pope had summoned Mark for counsel regarding what should be decided about Gregory, he gave him the advice that it should not be judged without the high priest of the great city, I mean, nor indeed without the king himself; but that after sending, both those who provided

^A And he should send forth the accusers, and the woman who was said to be defiled, along with the priest whom they had put in his place, and all those who had issued the mandates, to Byzantium, and that he should write down, detail by detail, the state of their affairs as they stood. The Pope, judging this to be the most advantageous course, dispatched from thence those who would bring the accusers from Sicily, and from there he sent others who would carry letters to the Archbishop of Constantinople and to the Emperor himself. Now these were two of the bishops who had also been present at the synod before. When the Emperor and the Patriarch had received and read such letters, they judged the whole crime of which Gregory had been accused to be false and entirely incredible. Nevertheless, the Emperor sent one of his closest confidants—a spatharios named Marcian ^B—and sent him along with the bishops. The Patriarch likewise appointed the presiding bishops of Ancyra, Cyzicus, and Corinth, and furthermore Constantine, whom the majority were accustomed to call the chartophylax, of whom mention was made earlier; and they commanded them that, after the completion of the trial, they should bring Gregory back with them.

Upon their arrival in Rome, it came to pass that Marcian fell ill with a most grievous disease, so that the physicians abandoned all hope for his life; for this reason a great sorrow had seized the bishops. And when all care was overcome by fate, and he was breathing his last, and the sun was setting and he seemed about to leave this light, ^C that woman who was mentioned a short while ago—whose little daughter had recently been seized by a disease and had been deemed worthy of Gregory's prayers and had enjoyed an extraordinary healing—was passing by the house where the spatharios lay bedridden. She heard the sound of the mingled voices of his servants as they beat their breasts and lamented. Having inquired as to the cause, she did not conceal the grace, but openly proclaimed the benefit and the wonders she herself had received for her daughter, announcing them to them; she immediately became a herald of salvation and a witness who could not be deceived regarding what had transpired. "Come," she said, "O servants, obey me; cease your mourning, and lifting him up just as he is on his bed, eagerly follow me. ^D For I will show you a man, known to me by experience, who will easily deliver you from your sorrow and, with great speed, will restore your master to health." The servants obeyed her words, and immediately lifting their master, they placed him near the prison where Gregory was. When Gregory saw him, scorched and consumed by his raging fever throughout, he pitied the man and watered his bed with tears. Calling to him once and twice (for his voice and consciousness had already left him and he was unable to utter a word), the divine man laid his hand upon him, while his own mind was lifted entirely toward heaven; and wetting his own face and the one lying down with his tears, he besought God. The prayer provided sleep, and sleep brought salvation to the sick man. For having spent twenty-five days without sleep, he was then seized by a deep slumber. The servants, in the meantime...

^A And those who were standing by through the night found that the fever had departed and that the sick man had recovered. The holy man admonished them that they ought to give thanks to God for the healing they had received, while he himself remained occupied with prayer and watching. A pleasant sleep once again encompassed Marcianus. But around the time of the morning hymns, as the holy man was praying, Marcianus leapt from his bed; and observing and recognizing the one who had healed him, he fell at his feet and embraced them, thanking him with the most gracious words he could for the benefit of health that had been bestowed upon him, which was truly the greatest of gifts. Then, standing up, he joined him in chanting the remaining hymns. When the singing of the hymns had come to an end, they sat down and began to speak. Marcianus marveled at the sort of place in which the blessed man had been enclosed, and how he, despite being deprived of breath and light, was able to endure the one who dwelt within it. And these things they spoke of together.

XLVIII.

XLIX.

repentance followed, and he became his own fiercest accuser, rebuking what he had rashly committed against the holy man, and he changed his countenance as well as his resolve at the same time. You could see that he was violently moved in his soul, and that he was being heavily exacted for his debts by his conscience. ^A And when the accusers had arrived, and there had also come, having crossed over, many of the Agrigentines—both magistrates and subjects, and as many as were clean from the conspiracy—thoroughly informed where the saint was held in detention, they hastened with speed to reach him, as dearest children seeing a most dear father after some time, and showing much reverence toward him. ^B And since not all were able to embrace or hold his feet, they fell down from afar and worshipped the ground, beseeching him with words and tears as best they could, saying, “O Father, our high priest, our savior, do not abandon us, nor may the wickedness of a few be counted as a penalty against the whole multitude. A great lament, because of you, has now surrounded the city; widows are mourning, orphans are mourning, the poor are mourning: those who are weak of body and those who are ill of soul, some seeking the father, others the protector, others the benefactor, others the healer of souls and bodies; and now the state of the city is as though it had been shaken by a great earthquake ^C and as though its towers had been cast down by the law of war. You, appearing, will resolve all these things; and you will appear, above all, if only you wish it; for see, we are all ready to die with you.” These things the multitude said, as they were so very ardently devoted to him. ^D L. The council having been gathered very near the prison at the church of Saint Hippolytus, there were present nearly one hundred and fifty bishops, some of whom had come from the East, among whom was Constantine, who was performing the duties of the great high priest for petitions. The native monks, having all been gathered in order, as well as the entire order of the Church, and indeed almost all the rest of the multitude of the city, had flowed into that place. In particular, Mark the monk and five other priests were appointed to summon Gregory and to set him before the judgement of the council. And when he had arrived, having bowed himself three times to the ground, he stood according to the custom of those on trial; and as many of the priests as were most God-fearing were filled with tears in their eyes. ^D There stood also the base informers, together with Sabinus and Crescentinus, being one hundred and ten in number; whom the Pope having called, asked, as it is lawful for judges to do, if they were aware of the charges for which they were accusing Gregory, and what the name of the crime was. And they said they were accusing him of fornication. And the Pope, taking him up, said, “Did you yourselves see it, or did you hear it from the woman herself?” And they, beginning the tale of their fabrication, said, “We, indeed, were entering in to him according to custom around dawn to praise and worship God, and finding this woman in his bed, we…”

^A seized her.” And she, being questioned as was to be expected, made the matter clear to us and even to the Exarch himself, many being present. We know nothing more of these things than that, from the time she committed such an unworthy crime, she was possessed by an evil spirit and, because of the wickedness dared by them, is up to this day grievously tormented. Thus did these sorcerers and cunning imitators of the cunning demon, by the very means through which they themselves were caught in their own slander, think to strengthen their lie. ^B LI. But those prelates, outstanding and invincible champions of the truth, having instantly detected the falsehood, said, “Indeed, if these things were true, the opposite ought rather to have happened; and [it would be expected that] she, while concealing and denying the crime, would be severely tormented by the demon as a punishment and penalty, but that upon her confessing and begging for pardon, God should stay His wrath and the demon, even if it had previously entered, be driven out.” Thus, having aptly overturned their own slander against themselves, they bring the girl herself into the midst. She stood trembling and with her face transformed; therefore, leaving off questioning her, the accusers turned to ^C Gregory, wishing to confound him with their questions. He, having heaved a great sigh, answered with the words of David: “Unjust witnesses rose up against me; they questioned me about things I did not know; they repaid me evil for good.” As soon as he had said this, the girl was cast to the ground, and as she had never before been torn by the controlling demon, she lay rolling at the feet of the holy man, and spewing foam from her mouth. The divine Gregory, however, having learned to pray for his enemies, lifting his eyes to heaven and his mind to the Maker of heaven, and silently moving the lips of his heart, was greatly groaning ^D to God, and all were fixing their eyes upon him. After the prayer, turning his eyes toward the girl, “In the name,” he said, “of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, obeying His commands, come out, impure demon, so that the girl, having regained her senses, may speak the truth concerning us.” Immediately the spirit, having torn her, went out, and she lay as if dead. LII. Then Gregory immediately taking her by the hand raised her up, and when she was standing, he asked her—the questioning being done through the Chartophylax—first her name, and whether the Bishop of the Agrigentines was known to her at all. She said that she was called Eudocia, and that she knew him well; for she said she had often seen him passing through and visiting the poor and sick of the city, and providing those toward their food for the widows and orphans, “when I, too,” she said, “wretched as I am, happened to be one of those being cared for by him.” They asked again, whether she had known the man in a carnal ———

^A way, or whether they had been engaged in illicit pleasure. But these men (pointing to Sabinus and Crescentinus), these, I say, deceived me with a large sum of money and persuaded me to bear witness against the holy man. For this, may the Lord repay them for the most unjust thoughts they entertained against me, and for casting my soul into perdition and my body into destructive demonic madness, in which I have been held for two years and six months now. Having said these things, she looked around at all the bishops, and upon seeing Gregory and recognizing him, she ran and fell at his feet, weeping uncontrollably and letting out most pitiful cries; she bewailed at length the deception and the slander against the holy man, and begged for forgiveness. He, looking upon her with pity and a compassionate gaze, said, “To forgive sins, O woman, is not ours, but God’s alone. He, therefore, is powerful enough to grant you forgiveness for these and for all things alike. As for my part, I shall pray for you and I will gladly grant you forgiveness for the things in which you sinned against me.” And at once he fell into prayer, and God was propitious to her; then, taking her by the hand, he raised her up.

^B LIII. While these things were being done, everyone was struck with admiration, and they clung to Gregory from then on as one who had been raised above human nature. Such was the end that the lawsuit and contention reached on that day; and with the council dismissed upon these matters, the judges treated the woman with clemency and left her unpunished. But they set the accusers in the midst, so that the Supreme Pontiff might inflict a heavier penalty upon them. For he was indignant that he, too, had been equally deceived by them. Therefore, he first received them with angry spirits and most severe words; and having reviewed other deeds of theirs, he then, in particular, gravely reproached them for the many and various miracles of Gregory that had been brought forth before their eyes—and how at the beginning they had seen the Holy Spirit overshadowing his head, and later saw him easily bringing healing to the deaf and mute, and all other things besides that the truly divine man of God had performed miraculously. But he was especially harsh in his accusation of Sabinus, that neither the healing of his daughter checked his tongue, nor did it cause him to cease from blasphemy, but instead he labored so bitterly with ingratitude and slander, and repaid the benefactor with such treatments. Having said these things, he ordered Bishop Felix to recount in detail all the things he had seen when he had been sent to install the holy man upon the episcopal throne. When the bishops heard Felix telling ^C all these things, wonder and astonishment seized them, for they had never heard any of these things before.

LIV. But the accusers, having nothing they could say in reply—not even able to open their mouths to these things—took refuge in mourning and tears, offering these as more certain than any speech for the apology of the slander. Therefore, the assembled Fathers separated them from one another, and they ordered those of the ignorant multitude, numbering eighty, to stand on one side, and those ordained to the ecclesiastical ministry, to thirty and ^D

^A ten on the other. But as for Sabinus and Crescentinus, a sentence of exile was decreed, that the former should be sent away to Thrace, and the latter to Spain. The remaining ministers of the Church were relegated to Ravenna. And as for what pertained to the Church, it was thus accomplished. But Marcianus was ordered to take cognizance of and judge the profane. He immediately commanded them to be cast into prison and subjected to various tortures. Wherefore, when those soldiers seized them, the men ^B of God, surrendering themselves again to tears and lamentations, implored their aid. He, however, was more vehemently troubled in spirit than those who were about to suffer these things; and, being straightway moved to pity, he watered his cheeks with tears and beat his face. At one time he would prostrate himself at the feet of the pontiff, supplicating him; at another, he would lean towards the other bishops, bowing most lowly, and beseech them, saying: "Do not, I pray, fathers, let it happen that men be subjected to such dire calamity on my account. For I consider ^C this not a punishment for past things, but a torment. For I am satisfied that God should not seek any penalties from me, though I am bound by numberless other faults, nor, having branded me with so many stains, should desire to show me to the crowd defiled and corrupted." And these things are thus.

LV. But God, the avenger of crimes, was no laggard in the vindication of the just. For after, by the persuasion of the great man, it was commanded that no further cruelty should be exercised against those who had been condemned to punishments, and they stood all together, suddenly a storm, darkness, and a fierce wind, blowing with the sound of a great crashing of the earth, invaded the wretches, and a cloud so deep ^D oppressed their sight that you would have said the earth, being overturned and collapsed upon itself, was swallowing them up, no otherwise than Dathan and Abiron of old. Those indeed who were present and beheld these things lifted their hands to heaven, and forecast that their fate would be no more fortunate than that which once befell the Sodomites. Not long after, as the darkness and whirlwind ceased, all appeared with black faces, though not equally so. For some indeed had one cheek, others both, blackened. But on Sabinus and Crescentinus, not only the faces, but even the lips were left infected with a black color, so that it was not permitted them to close them, nor to speak anything at all with them. Thus divine justice took bitter vengeance upon the unjust. To this the whole senate acclaimed: "Now we have known that the Lord has saved his anointed, and has heard him from his holy heaven, and that salvation is in the strength of his right hand." When they had said these things, they embraced the knees of Gregory, most ardently supplicating for them. But he, on the contrary, prostrated himself all the more at the feet of each one, and calling himself the most miserable of all, spoke those words of David: "I am a worm, and no man: a reproach of men, and the contempt of the people." [LVI] His peractis, cum pontifex max. delatores coram se statuisset: "Ecce," inquit, "non animo

^A but in form also, you have become like your father, Satan. But further, another matter will concern the judgment; for you and your offspring shall be slaves, and as many as have been marked with this blackness shall serve the bishops of Agrigento for all time. And whoever I see bestowing the dignity of the priesthood or entrusting any ecclesiastical ministry upon anyone of your lineage, him we will excommunicate and consign to anathema." Thus he spoke—not, in my opinion, out of haste (for he would not have repeated it twice, and besides, Gregory would not have allowed it), but by fear he was shaking their souls and chastening those still full of folly; for had they not been so disposed in mind, divine justice would not have pursued them in this way. Those men, therefore, were handed over to the rulers and returned to their own homes. ^B That maiden, however, could no longer bear even to look upon the city of Agrigento; having renounced all worldly finery and having been granted the prayers of the bishops there, she was tonsured with a God-loving intention in the monastery of Saint Cecilia. There, for twenty-two years, she lived most diligently and temperately, and having cleansed her former stains as much as she could with the hyssop of repentance, she migrated in a God-pleasing manner to the Lover she had so greatly desired. And these matters were thus concluded.

^C LVII. On the following day, the Pope requested Gregory to celebrate the holy mysteries, in which those who had partaken of the divine sacrifices also shared in a common meal. And at that time, as they were dining together, the Pope added nothing else. But the next day he summoned Gregory and explained to him a matter that required only his prayers and the great confidence he felt in God. The matter was this: A certain person had cast very large timbers into the river, intending to send them to the temple of the chief apostles for its adornment and security. But these, having been carried sideways by chance, had become wedged between both banks and remained fixed without any fastenings. ^D These were not able to be moved by the hands of many people, though they tried many times, nor could any ship, whether laden with merchandise or serving any other purpose, navigate up or down the river because of these obstacles; thus they caused no small detriment to the city. The Pope therefore explained this to him and asked him to go to the place, in order that they might all join in prayer to God together, and that he himself might assist with his petition. When the signal was given, the entire city—monks and priests alike—gathered together, and in a brilliant procession and litany they went down to the river. As they passed, a woman was burning a fire in the street. The holy man, leaning slightly toward it, commanded her to give him a coal. She—for she was heeding only his command—immediately handed it over. And he placed the coals into the mantle in which he was clothed; then he placed incense upon them. And thereafter, in a paradoxical manner, the coals were burning the incense and dissolving it into smoke, while they appeared colder than stones to his sacred garment. These the priests and the

^A rest of the crowd having seen, they no longer hesitated at all regarding the logs, knowing well that he who was able to transform the nature of fire was surely most capable of moving logs also according to nature. Indeed, when they had arrived at the place, they all declared that the matter required not the common supplication of the people to God, but the prayers of that one man alone. Having therefore set his knees, he gave himself to prayer; then, rising and having censed the logs, he commanded those present to pull. They, laying their hands to them, no longer felt the toil with which they had been burdened before, but the logs were easily pulled, as if they had wings. There were also letters inscribed upon them, which, they said, signified that five were dedicated to the chief apostle Peter, and the other five to Paul, the vessel of election. ^B LVIII. These things having occurred, and joy unspeakable having run through Rome, the Pope again gathered a council and, having called the Sicilians, restored to them their own prelate, the divine Gregory, in a manner more glorious than before. Since they had also learned that Leucius was living there—for he was present there strengthening and soothing the informers as much as he could—they decreed that he should be banished into Spain, and that the temple in Agrigentum, and the bishop's house also, should be built elsewhere. This the divine Gregory himself approved, having learned that this wicked Leucius had overthrown the altar and had delivered the venerable bodies of the saints ^C existing there to the deep. Thus, then, he arranged the affairs of the bishopric; he entrusted this to the archdeacon Euplus and to Erasmus. He himself, however, remained in Rome; for he was about to set out for the great city, soon, according to the decree of the emperor. The council having been dissolved upon these matters, the Pope, having called the saint separately, did a deed worthy both of his own piety and of Gregory's majesty (for any lover of virtue venerates and cultivates virtue). For, struck and gravely affected in his soul by what had preceded, he falls to the feet of him, at once giving thanks and asking forgiveness for those things because of which he had been so deceived and had believed the calumnies brought against him. ^D He also gives him a gift, and through him to God, a place not small, severed from the city under his jurisdiction, saying it should be as a contribution for the church about to be built by him. LIX. Marcian the spatharios and the bishops having taken leave of Gregory, as well as the city petition, they set out; then, reaching the imperial city, and the news of their arrival having already become known to the emperor, he ordered the divine Gregory to wait at the monastery of Saint Sergius; but having called Marcian, he inquired about what had been done in the council. He told everything—both the wonder-workings of the saint, and his incomparable virtue, and what had paradoxically befallen the accusers, and the peerlessness of his patience and modesty. Having heard these, the emperor was amazed, and recounted everything with similar wonder to the patriarch.

^A Afterward, when Gregory had entered the city together with the bishops, the emperor showed him the greatest sign of cheerfulness and benevolence; for, rising from his throne, he embraced and kissed him. But after a few days had passed, it occurred to him to establish new rules for the priests, which would seem both safe and useful to those who came after. Having therefore sent for the patriarch and the divine Gregory himself, he consulted with them about the matter; and they, having declared the thing to be very excellent and beneficial to the orthodox, and the holy time of the fast having arrived, they committed themselves to the task, the emperor himself joining them in the council. And in this way, the new and sacred canons were established.

^B LX. Meanwhile, the divine Gregory composed several sermons full of doctrine and piety; some indeed on the observation of the holy fast, others on Peter and Andrew, and he also compiled many others, which brought him much praise both for their artistic skill and for their utility. But when he decided to return home, he asked to be granted a place in the city of Agrigentum, where he might construct an episcopal residence. The king granted it as readily and cheerfully as if he were receiving a gift rather than giving one, and indeed, exceeding his request, he ordered half of the city of Agrigentum to be given to him, to use as he pleased. Then, having embraced him and asked him not to forget him, nor to be burdened to pray to God for him, he sent him away. ^C But the queen did not appear any less warmly disposed toward the holy man. For she too, having learned that Gregory was a friend of God and very familiar with Him, rendered him fitting reverence, and endeavored to win his favor with the most magnificent gifts she could. Therefore, having left the city of Constantine, he traveled to Rome. There, having been received with great reverence by the Supreme Pontiff, not long afterward he sailed to Agrigentum, with two deacons sent with him to restore him to his own bishopric. Moreover, there was such a great yearning for the holy man among all, that they bore no obscure testimony to his virtue, while the entire pious laity and all the people went out of the city, and with praises and sacred songs—the joy of which you could not easily describe—met him as he arrived.

^D LXI. What then did the divine Gregory do? He greeted them all kindly with a holy kiss, and laying his hands on each one, he gave his blessing. But when he met his father, he first threw himself at his feet, then rising up, he embraced his neck and kissed him, so that tears flowed from the eyes of both, providing an occasion for common thanksgiving to God. The same occurred also with his mother; for he was truly a disciple of Him who commanded that father and mother should be honored above all others. Finally, having entered the city, he did not first seek his residence, nor did he wait to see the temple, nor did he cast his eye on anything else, but departing immediately, he pitched his tent outside the

fixed his tent near the wall of the idol temple, and there, keeping watch ^A in prayers and praying with all the people, he spent the night. Then, having designed a replica of the holy table, he raised up the venerable cross where he had it. And thus, having expelled by his prayers to God the demons who were lying in wait at the idol temple, he rebuilt and adorned the temple, and gave it the name of the greatest and chief of the apostles, in which he also performed the mystical sacrifices; opening both his tongue and his hand lavishly, and providing bread—which is the food that refreshes hearts, and which is called bread both in reality and by the name of the angels, filling the souls of those who hunger—he worshipped the Creator of the world through both.

In these honest customs and right deeds he persevered, exhibiting his own life as a model of decorum and honesty, and by his own example he prescribed a law to all of gentleness of mind and of patience, and, I add, of tolerance in adversities. And thus, increased in days and virtues, he finished his mortal life and emigrated to the most desired Christ, to whom belongs honor, glory, majesty and magnificence, now and for the ages of ages. Amen.

THE CONTEST OF SAINT MERCURIUS THE MARTYR

I. While Decius and Valerian were reigning at that time in the great city of Rome, they decreed by a common ordinance that all should sacrifice and make libations to the gods. ^C Having therefore summoned the entire senate, they set forth what had been decreed by their common consent; and when they found them assenting to their opinion, they were affected with great joy. Immediately, therefore, through imperial letters with the subscription of the senate, they ordered those things which had seemed good to them in common to be displayed and set forth in the Capitol, of which this is the example:

The Emperors, conquerors, victors, Augusti, pious Decius and Valerian, together with the senate, by this common counsel: Since we have learned of the benefits and gifts of the gods, and at the same time also enjoy the victory which has been given to us by them against our enemies; and furthermore the tempering of the air, and the abundance of every kind of fruit. Since we have learned them to be benefactors and that they supply what is useful for the common good: for this reason we decree by one ordinance, that every condition of free men and servants, soldiers and civilians, should offer expiatory sacrifices to the gods, falling down and supplicating. If any one, however, shall wish to violate our divine command, which has been set forth by us by common consent, we order him to be cast into chains, ^D then to be subjected to various torments, and if he is indeed persuaded by this, he will obtain no small honors from us. But if he shall have gainsaid, after many torments he will undergo the punishment of the sword, or will be cast into the depths of the sea, or will be given to birds and dogs to be devoured: especially indeed if any should be found from the religion of the Christians. But those who shall have obeyed our divine decrees will obtain the greatest honors and gifts. Fare you most happily.

II. Therefore, upon the proposal of the imperial edict, the whole city was troubled, because this impious edict had been proposed in the whole city. But it happened that, since at that time war had been stirred up by the Barbarians against the Romans, the emperors were preparing their army so that they might engage with them in battle, ordering the numbers of soldiers who were in all the cities to come to their aid. From those, however, who were coming from each city and region to this preparation for war, there also came a legion of those who were called Martenses [al. Fretenses], who are under First Armenia, under a tribune by the name of Saturninus. Decius, however, departing for the war, Valerian remained at Rome. But battle having been joined between the Romans and the Barbarians, the conflict lasted a long time. While those

^A in that engagement [were fighting], a vision appeared to someone from the Martensian legion, which is under the first Armenia, by the name of Mercurius; there appeared, I say, a man of immense stature, clothed in white garments, holding a sword in his right hand, and saying to him: "Do not fear, do not be afraid; for I have been sent to bring you aid, and to render you victorious. Take, therefore, this sword, and rush upon the Barbarians; and when you have conquered, do not forget the Lord your God." But he, as one who had been beside himself, imagined him to be one of the emperor's princes. When he had received it, and had stirred himself up, he made an attack upon the Barbarians, and having broken them, he killed their king and many others, so that his arm was weary, and from their blood the sword clung to his hand. And thus the Barbarians were routed and put to flight by the Romans.

III. Then Decius, when he had learned of his singular combat, having summoned him, bestowed upon him the rank of commander of the army, determining that he should be in charge of the camp. And Decius, considering that he had been superior in the war through the providence of the gods, rejoiced greatly; and having spent much money upon the soldiers, he sent each one to his own place: but he himself, entering one city after another, held great banquets, proceeding to Rome. One night, however, when the commander of the army was sleeping, the angel appeared to him in the same form and at the same place as he had appeared before, and awakened him. He, indeed, when he saw him, struck with fear, remained silent. The angel says to him: "Mercurius, remember what I said to you in the conflict of battle: See that you do not forget the Lord your God. For it behooves you to contend lawfully for Him, and to receive the crown of victory in the glorious kingdom with all the saints."

When he had said these things, the angel vanished. But he, when he had returned to himself and had remembered, gave thanks to God. For he knew from his ancestors the faith of the Christians. For his father Gordianus, when he was the primicerius of his legion, often used to say: "Blessed is he who serves the heavenly King; for He gives the kingdom of heaven. For that King has created all things by His word: and He is the one who is to judge the living and the dead, and will render to each one according to his works." Since he had therefore returned to himself, and had remembered his father's words, and had considered the vision which had appeared to him, pricked by the Holy Spirit, he began to confess with tears and to say: "Woe is me, a sinner, that when I was a branch of a germinating tree, I withered, not having the root of the knowledge of God."

IV. While he was saying these things, a silentiary was sent by the emperor with many others to call him to the emperor. When he, however, had excused himself, the emperor postponed the council. But on the following day the emperor summoned him again, that he might come with him with the honor that was fitting. When he had arrived, the council having already been dismissed, the emperor says to him: "Let us go together into the temple of Diana, and let us offer sacrifice to her." The saint, however, restraining himself, went into ^B his praetorium. But one of the nobles accuses him to the emperor, saying: "Pious triumpher and victor, approved by the gods, that you may administer the empire, deign to listen to me placidly. He who is honored by your imperial right hand, and to whom glory has been attributed by your empire, because he administers the affairs of the Romans placidly and tranquilly, was not with us in the temple of great Diana, to offer sacrifice for your power." The emperor said: "Who is this?" Catulus the consular said: "Mercurius, whom you have made great and adorned with various honors. He also overturns others, that they may not worship the gods: however, his answer will show you the outcome towards you." Decius said: "Perhaps some envy against him has moved you to say these things against him; but I will not listen to you, unless I learn the truth in his presence, for I shall judge the eyes and ears more worthy of faith than testimony. Be silent, therefore, and speak no word with him, and if you have used these things against him with a mind to slander, you shall not receive a light punishment. But if those things which have been said by you appear to be true, you shall obtain honors and gifts from me, as one who has shown a mind benevolent to the gods and to us." The emperor ordered him to come with him, with the honor that was fitting.

V. When he had arrived, Decius said to him: "I did not adorn you with this honor, appointing you commander of the army before all my princes, because you were conquered by the will of God in battle? How then, considering my honor as nothing, have you accepted a certain mode ^C of malice, and do you wish to consider my honors as nothing, not worshipping the gods, as I have already heard from some? But the generous soldier of Christ, when he had suitably, as the Apostle says, put off the old man with his deeds, ^D put on the new, who is created according to God through baptism, and confidently said to him: "Take this honor of yours. For I, as I judge, did not come to this as a debt, [by] which I conquered the Barbarians in war through my Lord Jesus Christ. But take what, as you have said, have been given to me by you. For naked I came out of my mother's womb, naked also I shall return to that world."

VI. When, therefore, he had put off his cloak and had unfastened his belt, he cast them at the feet of the emperor, crying out and saying: "I am a Christian; listen, all: I am a Christian." Decius, however, at once both greatly incensed with anger, and astonished at the boldness of his speech and at his beauty and greatness, ordered him to be cast into custody, saying: "This man has not considered nor understood honor. But if he feels shame and ignominy, I think it will happen that I shall lead him to a pious thought." When he was being led away into custody, the martyr rejoiced and exulted, praising God and attributing glory to Him. But on that night the angel of the Lord appears to him, saying: "Be confident, Mercurius, and do not fear; believe in the Lord, whom

you have confessed; for He is able to redeem you from every affliction." By the vision of the angel, he was greatly strengthened.

^A VII. On the following day, when the emperor had sat down at the tribunal, he ordered him to be brought forward, and says to him: "This honor is befitting you, because of your most wicked mind." The martyr said: "It is I who am worthy of this honor; for you have received those things that pass away, whereas I shall receive those that remain forever." The emperor said: "Tell me your race and your country." Mercurius said: "If you wish to know my race and country, I will tell you: My father was named Gordianus, of Scythian descent; I served in the Martensian legion. But my country, to which I hasten, is the heavenly Jerusalem, which is the city of the heavenly King." Decius then said: "Were you called by this name by your parents, or were you so named in the army, Mercurius?" The martyr said: "I was called Mercurius by the tribune of the militia." The emperor said: "Why do you not do as it was ordered for all men, and worship the gods, receiving your former honor back? Do you prefer to die in torments? Speak quickly, knowing that you were so named on that account." Mercurius said: "I, as you have said, have come for this reason—that I might conquer you and the devil, the inventor of every vice; and that I might receive the crown of victory from the arbiter of the contest, Jesus Christ my Lord. Do not therefore delay or hesitate, but fulfill in me whatever occurs to your mind. For I have the breastplate of faith and the shield, through which I shall overcome every device that has been thought up and moved against me."

^B VIII. Then the emperor, full of anger, said: "Since you say you have the breastplate of faith and the shield, I order you to be stripped and stretched to four stakes, and raised high from the ground." When this had been done, the emperor says: "Where are your warlike arms? By Jove, the greatest of the gods, you have been stretched out well!" But the holy Mercurius, looking into heaven, said: "Lord Jesus Christ, bring aid to your servant." The emperor again ordered his body to be cut with a sharp sword, and afterwards fire to be placed beneath so that he might be burned little by little. By the multitude of blood, however, the pyre was extinguished. The saint, indeed, bore this torment with a brave and generous spirit. But Decius ordered him to be unbound, lest he should die all the sooner, and to be safely enclosed in a dark house. They carried him, therefore, and threw him into a small room which had little ventilation, thinking that he would die a short time later. That night, however, an angel of the Lord appears to him, saying: "Peace to you, noble champion"; and he restored him to health, healing the wounds of his body, so that he arose and rendered glory to God, who had appeared to him.

IX. Therefore, Decius again ordered him to be brought forward; and when he had seen him, he said: "How is it that he who was dead is now walking by himself, having been taken away from us? Perhaps he does not even have a scar upon his body." He ordered his attendants to look. They, however, said to him: "By your most divine majesty, he has a body so delicate and free from every spot, just as if it had truly been touched." Decius said: "Is he about to speak again? My Christ has healed me. Did you not introduce anyone to care for him in custody?" But they said to him: "By your power, which rules the whole sphere of the earth, no one even looked at him, for we thought he was going to die. How he now stands healthy and strong, we know not." The emperor said: "Look at the magic art of the Christians. He who was thought to be dead yesterday stands healthy today." Therefore, in anger, he said to him: "Who healed you? Speak with truth. For I do not believe you were healed without trickery and the magic art." The holy Mercurius said: "As you said before, though unwilling, our Lord Jesus Christ, the true physician of souls and bodies, He healed me. But the wicked, and the enchanters, and those who divine by lots, together with those who worship images, He abdicates, and having bound them in chains, He delivers them to the fire of Gehenna, because they have not acknowledged the true God who made them." The emperor said: "I shall again consume your body with torments. Let us see, however, whether your Christ, whom you confess, will heal you." Mercurius said: "I believe in my Lord Jesus Christ, that whatever torments you inflict upon me, you cannot do me injury. ^C For He Himself said: 'Do not fear those who kill the body: they cannot kill the soul; but fear Him rather who can destroy both soul and body in Gehenna,' who will resurrect me after death on the terrible day of the just judgment."

X. While the generous martyr was being tortured and burned, a certain sweet odor of aromatics flowed from his body. When he had been tortured, and had not even groaned, Decius said: "Where is your physician? Let him come now and heal you. For you said that even after death He can raise you up." The holy Mercurius said: "Do what you wish. You have power over my body, but God over my soul. For, even if my body were to perish, my soul remains, into which destruction does not fall." The emperor again orders him to be suspended headlong, and a very heavy stone to be tied to his neck, so that, suffocated by the stone, he might die quickly. But the martyr, strengthened by the grace of the Lord, remained in torture for a long time. When Decius had seen, however, that he was resisting the torments with a strong and great spirit, and that nothing grave was touching him, he ordered the stone to be rolled away from his neck, and a whip bound with bronze to be brought, and for him to be whipped for so long until his blood alone filled the place. He, however, remained an adamant, bearing himself bravely, and saying: "I give thanks to you, Lord, that you have deemed me worthy to be whipped for your name."

XI. When the emperor had learned that he was completely immovable, and could not be persuaded to be moved from his resolution, having convened a council (for he was hastening to go to Rome), he passed sentence upon him, saying: "Mercurius, who has done no service to the gods and"

has held our clemency's venerable decree of no account, our pious power commands to be led away into the region of the Cappadocians and to have his head severed for an example to many. For whoever resists the emperor shall, after many torments, be subjected to the punishment of the sword." When, therefore, those who had received these orders had taken him, they led him—and, carrying him, they placed him bound tightly on both sides, for the body of the martyr was exceedingly relaxed. And coming to an inn, they laid him down gently and made him rest. Thus, when they had completed the long journey in a few days, they came to Caesarea. But the Lord, approaching him, said: "Mercurius, come now and rest. You have finished the course, you have kept the faith, receive the crown of your struggle. For it is decreed that you shall be brought to an end here." The martyr, however, having been emboldened by the vision of the Savior, says to those who were with him: "Do what you have been commanded, do not delay." But the Lord, who calls all men to repentance, will deem you worthy of His grace as well. For as He is rich, He bestows His goods abundantly upon those who approach Him. Having said these things, his head was severed and he reached his consummation in the confession of our Savior God.

XII. It came to pass, moreover, as something beyond expectation, a miracle of God on the twenty-fifth of the month of November. After his consummation, the body of the martyr became white as snow, emitting a sweet odor of ointments and incense, and because of this sign many became Christians. They buried the saint in an eminent place, where many healings are performed to the glory of God the Father, and of our Lord Jesus Christ, together with the Holy Spirit, unto the ages of ages. Amen.

MARTYRDOM OF THE HOLY AND TRIUMPHANT GREAT MARTYR OF CHRIST, CATHERINE.

I. ^C While the impious Maxentius was reigning, the entire Roman empire was devoted to the abominable worship of demons. For he, having sat down at Alexandria upon a high and lofty tribunal, issued this impious edict, that all together who were under his power and jurisdiction should sacrifice to the idols. Whence also throughout the entire Roman empire the decrees were made manifest, in letters thus: "Emperor Maxentius to all those who are under my jurisdiction, greetings. Having obtained a great benefit from the kindness of the gods, we have determined that we ought to offer sacrifices to them as a kind of recompense for such great generosity of theirs. Everyone, therefore, if it be possible, arriving before us, show your goodwill toward the great gods, knowing that he who shall despise this our edict and look toward another religion prohibited by us, shall fall from the great benevolence of the gods itself, and shall be subjected by us to the most extreme evils." ^D II. When these letters had traversed every part

one could see the multitude flowing toward him in fear of the threats; some brought sheep and oxen, ^A others various kinds of birds, so that no one was exempt, but all were intent upon the preparation for the sacrifice. For it had been ordained that the very wealthy should bring large animals for the rite, but the poor smaller ones, as each had the means at hand and the goodwill toward the gods. But the emperor especially incited them to ambition, himself bringing one hundred and thirty bulls to be sacrificed. Since therefore all had assembled to him in Alexandria, he was very glad, seeing the multitude of the people and the sacrifices, so much so that he did not await another time, but immediately arose and proceeded with speed to the temple, that he might bring the sacrifice to its fulfillment. And with him ran every sort and every age, both those of the senate and those in office, and those of the humble and common sort, each bringing those things pertaining to the sacrifice; so that the city itself and the temple were straitened by the multitude of those flowing together there, and the surrounding region was re-echoing with the clamor of the irrational animals, and the very air was polluted by the vapor ^B of the sacrifices.

III. While these things were being done in this way, a certain pious woman, by name Catherine, young in age, beautiful in appearance, being of royal lineage, having gone through all learning, both secular and our own, was living in Alexandria, accompanied by many handmaidens, and was remaining thus in the royal houses, knowing Christ alone as her spouse, and preserving the beauty of her soul for Him, and kindling the love of her heart for Him alone. Seeing people undergoing so grievous a shipwreck and falling into the most extreme danger of destruction, and being gravely affected in her soul and stirred with zeal for the Lord, she then most especially decided to show her desire and clear zeal for the faith; and having taken some of her servants with her, she immediately proceeded to the temple where the multitude was sacrificing with the emperor, and standing at the entrance, she drew the gazes of others to herself, being of unattainable beauty, and showing the inner radiance by means of her outward appearance. ^C And quietly parting her pure lips, she said that she had something necessary to speak to the emperor. Those therefore who were set over the messages announced to him the facts concerning the virgin. And he having commanded it, she was immediately brought in, and standing before the shameless face of the tyrant, while he was still occupied with the sacrifice, she spoke to him with great boldness and freedom in this way:

IV. "It was fitting, O emperor, for you to perceive your deception from yourself, that you offer sacrifices to the idols of corruptible men as if they were gods, and to cast away this Hellenic folly and disgrace; but since, obeying a sinister demon, you are blind to so manifest a truth, it should have been necessary, at the very least, to have been persuaded by the one who is among ^D

^A your own people—who is, in truth, what he is, and not simply those other gods as they are—and not so thoughtlessly to choose such base behavior, and to deem as gods the phantoms of those men who lived out their lives in misery. For he declares that those whom you call gods were human beings, and that they were named immortal on account of certain benefits. He records also that they had their own specific names, and that they ruled over certain regions and cities. He says, however, that men, misled by ^B ignorance, called them gods and endowed them with the dignity of immortality. And another wise man among you, too, from among those who have written histories, has said that that man, Sarus, was the first to invent the matters of Hellenism. For he says that those who in ancient times displayed some work of courage or friendship, or some other virtue worthy of memory and zeal, were honored with statues and pillars—an account which is reported to be true. But those who came after, ignorant of their ancestors' intent—that they honored them merely for the sake of memory, as having performed some praiseworthy deed, and that they set up statues and pillars to them—in their turn deemed those people ^C to be immortal gods, and added them to their own ranks, even though they were human beings subject to the same passions and liable to decay, and they devised for them sacrifices, honors, and festivals. Your own wise man, Plutarch of Chaeronea, also chides these men, saying that they introduce an error regarding images—a view to which you, O Emperor, ought to assent. For you should trust not in the accounts of outsiders, but in your own people, and not lead so many souls down into the ultimate abyss of perdition, for which you yourself will surely pay the penalty, suffering a punishment that never ends, but which ever ignites for you a greater hell of fire. ^D Be persuaded, therefore, by these things, O Emperor, and once persuaded, acknowledge the one true God who gave you this imperial authority, and who further provided the very gift of life; who, being God, eternal and immortal, later became human for our sake and chose the cross and death, raising us up from the death of disobedience, and providing for our salvation as he alone knows how. He is the Savior also of those who err, and he receives those who repent most kindly and graciously.

V. At this, Maxentius [Maximinus] is filled with rage, and as his boiling blood poured toward his heart, his voice was extinguished, and he was completely unable to respond. But when at last he had with difficulty collected himself, and saw that the things the martyr had said were too powerful to be refuted, he said, "For the present, O woman, let me complete the sacrifice; but a little later we shall hear more clearly about the things of which you speak." When the sacrifice was finished, therefore, and the festival thereafter concluded, he returned to the palace and summoned the blessed woman. And when she had stood before him, he said, "Tell us, who are you, and what are those words which you have spoken to us?" But she replied, "Do you not know, O Emperor, who I am? I am the daughter of the emperor who preceded you; I am called Catherine. I have been trained in every discipline, in rhetoric and philosophy, in geometry...

and other sciences. But holding all those things as naught, I came to be betrothed to the immortal spouse, Christ, who spoke through the prophet: "I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and I will reject the understanding of the ^A prudent."

VI. When the emperor had marveled at what was said, and then looked more intently at her, and had supposed that she was not one of those born of the earth, but that he was seeing some vision of the gods speaking in human form—and having supposed this and spoken to her accordingly, the blessed one, taking up the word, says to him: "You have verily spoken, O Emperor. For the demons whom you name as gods, being what they are, deceive you with demonic apparitions, and incite you to licentiousness, and cast you into irrational desires. But I, of whatever sort I may be, am dust and clay, molded by God into such a form, and honored by His image; so that it is more fitting to marvel from this at the wisdom of the Creator, that in clay, and in such base matter, He had the power to fashion such beauty." ^B Being vexed at these things, the emperor said: "Do not speak ill of the gods, who are themselves immortal, and have immortal glory." The martyr replied: "You will find, O Emperor, what your gods are, if only you are willing to cast off the mist of deception for a little while; and you will also know the true God, who is immortal and eternal, whose very name when spoken, or even the cross when traced in the air, puts your gods to flight. But if you wish, we shall make a clear demonstration from the truth."

VII. The emperor, therefore, suspecting that the freedom of the martyr might hem him in on all sides and overpower him with proofs, and not having the power to answer and counter-argue—shaming both himself and the gods who are his own—he himself does not even deign to listen to her, pretending that it is unworthy to converse with a woman, and said: "Orators will be brought to you by me, who will ^C abundantly refute all your arguments and propositions, so that, having yourself learned exactly the weakness of your own problems, you may look to what is useful and obey our dogma." Having said this, he orders the saint to be kept under guard, and he himself, as he was, immediately issues a letter having the following content: "Emperor Maxentius [Maximinus] to all those under my authority, greetings. As many of you as concern yourselves with the most wise god Mercury, having invoked the Muses, who are the causes of knowledge, come to us to stop the mouth of the most wise little woman who has appeared to us as if from some machine, lest she mock the great gods, nor think the myths that are covered by false probability to be fables. For thus everyone will marvel at your ancestral wisdom, and we, praising your faculty of speech and art, and accepting it, will ^D

reward you with great gifts. ^A When the letter had briefly traveled throughout his entire empire, there gathered to him fifty chosen orators, who were sharp in discovery and very powerful in speech. And having placed them very close to him, Maxentius [Maximinus], so as to sharpen and incite them all the more by such familiarity, said: "The letter sent by us to you has clarified the reason for your arrival here. Prepare yourselves, therefore, mightily, and do not, because your adversary is a female, go to the contest more slowly or sluggishly; but rather arise against her with a generous and noble spirit and with every preparation, as if toward a most courageous antagonist. For if you win, you will not be thought by the many to have erected a great trophy; but if it should happen that you are defeated—which I pray may not be the case—you would bring upon yourselves great shame and laughter from all. For, looking at her sex, they think that because she is a woman she is imbecilic in speech, and they consider her eloquence to have no strength, and that she could never do or say anything noble or manly. But I, as one who has had accurate experience of her, think that the Plato who carried away the first prizes of wisdom would be second after her; and I exhort you to be prepared just as if you were about to contend against that very man. For it is better, while expecting great things, to find lesser ones, than to expect small things and fall into stronger ones."

VIII. ^C To these things said one of the orators, who was pre-eminent among all who were with him: "It is reasonable, O Emperor, that these things are so, and that the woman is intelligent and sharp-witted. But it does not seem to me that she will endure to come into the presence of an orator, let alone join him in a contest of disputation, or propose or oppose anything. For what is a woman in relation to the art of rhetoric? Yet let her come, at your command, and you will see what follows." When Maxentius [Maximinus] saw the orator so boastful, he was immediately turned to pleasure and gladness, the foolish man hoping that a tongue so intemperate and bold would persuade a soul that was gentle and filled with philosophy. He commands, therefore, that the blessed one be brought before him. ^D A frequent multitude had also gathered, running together to the spectacle of the contest, so that they might know on which side the victory would stand. The men who had been sent to bring her had not yet reached the prison when an angel of the Lord appearing to her said: "Do not fear, girl of God. For behold, wisdom will be given to you by God in addition to your own wisdom, and you will persuade the fifty orators. And you will not merely persuade them, but you will lead both them and many others with them to God. Then you yourself will also be wreathed with the crown of martyrdom." Having said this, he departed.

IX. And when those who had been sent had received her, they lead her to the imperial tribunal. And immediately that excellent orator, whom the narrative mentioned before, great

^A in his gaze and speaking haughtily: "Is it you," he says, "who so impudently and insolently insults our gods?" But the martyr replied very gently and placidly: "It is I, but I have not spoken impudently or insolently as you said, but rather with moderation and truth." And the orator said: "When the great poets name those gods as high, how is it that you stir your tongue against them and dare to behave so insolently, even though, as the story goes, you yourself have tasted of their wisdom and been a participant in its sweetness?" But she, replying prudently, said: "I possess wisdom, indeed, as a gift of my God, who is wisdom and life, and to fear Him and keep His commandments is the beginning of a more perfect and greater wisdom. But the affairs of your gods, being ridiculous and full of much deception, have not yet received any of the reproach they deserve. But come, tell us, which of your great poets, as you call them, and in what way did he name them gods?" The orator then said: "First indeed, the wisest of poets, Homer, praying to Zeus, speaks thus: 'Zeus, most glorious, greatest, and other immortal gods.' Then also the illustrious Orpheus in his Theogony, in this way giving thanks to Apollo, says: 'O king, son of Lato, striking from afar, powerful Phoebus, who beholds all things and rules over mortals and immortals, Sun, who art lifted up on golden wings.' And thus indeed the most excellent and first of the poets honored them, and openly called them gods. Do not, therefore, being deceived, pay attention to the Crucified as God, whom none of the ancients is found to have named, nor even knowing if He were God." ^B [X] The martyr says: "I confess that the matters regarding the gods are as you say, and I would not contradict them; but we shall add these things. For Homer, whom you called the most excellent of poets, he himself again subjects Zeus, the greatest of all your gods, to countless absurdities, sometimes calling him a liar and twisted, a knave and a deceiver; at other times, he depicts him as having been cast into bonds beyond all reason by Hera, Neptune, and Athena. For had not the plot been revealed to him by Thetis, and had he not stationed Aegaeon as a guardian for his own safety, perhaps the father of gods and men would have lain there prostrate before you, bound and mocked by two women and Neptune. And again, the musician Orpheus convicts you who worship them of great madness and stupidity, and especially in the book which, as you say, he wrote about the origin of the gods and the creation ^C of the world, thus signifying your vanity and ignorance, he says: 'Neither do men understand the evil approaching, nor can they avert it when it has arrived.' To this your wise Sophocles also assents, saying: 'There is a God who fashioned the heaven and the long earth, the glaucous swell of the sea, and the violence of the winds. But we mortals, wandering much in our hearts, have set up comforts for our sufferings, and images of the gods, fashioned of wood and stone and gold, and sacrificing to these, and ^D keeping feast days

we consider these to be piety.

^A XI. As to the fact that you said the Crucified One did not even have a name among the ancients, it is not fitting to be overly curious, nor to investigate human reasonings regarding Him, for He is the true God, Creator of heaven and earth and sea and sun and moon and stars, and of the entire human race; incomprehensible, inscrutable, boundless, unsearchable, ineffable. But so that I may confirm for you the things concerning Him from your own sources—for in this way the testimony would be entirely beyond suspicion—hear the most wise among women, the Sibyl, who clearly signifies His generation according to the flesh, and His providence towards you, and His ineffable care; and if you wish, let us hear the very words themselves: "In the fullness of time, someone will come into this many-branched earth, and without a fall will become flesh. By the tireless boundaries of divinity, He shall dissolve the corruption of incurable passions. And against Him there shall be envy from an unbelieving people, and He shall be suspended on high as one guilty of death. Yet He will endure all these things gently." See also, then, the prophet free from falsehood, Apollo, having forgotten his customary obscurity and ambiguity, and uttering the truth naked, even if he does not wish it: "One," he says, "compels me, a heavenly one, who is light shining in three ways. And He who suffered is God, but the divinity itself did not suffer. For He is both mortal and immortal. He is God and Man, bearing all things in mortality: the cross, insult, burial. He who even once poured hot tears from his eyelashes; who filled five thousand with grain. For to will is divine power. Christ is my God, who was stretched upon the wood, who died, who rose from the grave to the heavens."

^B XII. These things your god, Apollo, recounts; for since He is without beginning and coeternal with God who begot Him, the beginning and root and fount of all good things, having brought all things from nothing, and adorning and ruling and holding them together, He fashioned our race with His own hand, and paved many paths for us unto salvation. But when He saw that we had been tripped up by the transgression and had lost the very head of salvation—namely, obedience—He Himself again brings about the head of salvation, and being of the same nature as the Father, ^C He becomes for our sake that which I am, and walks and dwells among men, correcting, admonishing, teaching, doing and accomplishing all things for our sake. Then He also accepts death for the sake of ungrateful servants, a death even most ignominious, and is spat upon, and is buffeted, and the Creator endures all the things that the condemned endure. And all these things happened for our sake, so that the first condemnation might be dissolved, and the tyranny of the devil might be destroyed, and the gates of heaven, ^D which we had wrongly closed against ourselves, might again be opened to us. And He did not stand even at this, but, having risen on the third day and having ascended into the heavens from whence He came, He bestowed upon us the ineffable grace of the Holy Spirit, and sent

forth preachers who themselves also underwent every danger and endured daily deaths, that they might ward off from us the death of the soul, and remove from us all error, and lead the whole world unto Him. Therefore it behooves us also to pass through all things and to share in His sufferings, having become planted together in the likeness of His death, that we might be partakers with Him of the resurrection and the kingdom. It becomes you, ^A therefore, to be persuaded by these things, and to acknowledge Him as the true God, and to be made intimate with Him who says: "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." But if not by these, at least by the things said by your own gods and poets. For most certainly the wise Plato and the musician Orpheus, who, as the story goes, moved even inanimate things with his lyre—and furthermore that noble and pure Apollo of yours—do, even against their will, expressly confess Him to be God, and some things were pointed out by them concerning the truth; so that every excuse might be taken away from the impious, even though they themselves were made foolish, and seeing they did not see, and hearing they did not understand. ^B

XIII. When the emperor saw the orator struck with amazement and his tongue utterly silenced, he turned to the rest of the assembly of orators and urged them also to engage with the martyr. They, however, immediately declined the contest, saying, "We have nothing to oppose, O emperor, to what she says, and especially since we see our best man so grievously defeated by her." Thereupon Maxentius, unable to bear his fury, orders a pyre to be lit in the midst of the city, and that the fifty orators be cast into it. They, having heard this sentence, fall at the feet of that blessed woman, and earnestly implore and beseech her that they might be forgiven by her God for whatever they had sinned in ignorance, and that they might be deemed worthy of holy baptism ^C and of the gift of the Holy Spirit, and that, as far as possible, they might be united unto Him. To these things the martyr, filled with divine joy, said: "You are truly blessed, in that, having abandoned the darkness, you have followed the light of the truth, and having left behind a king who perishes on earth, you have approached Him who is in the heavens, alien to destruction and immortal. For the fire which is threatened against you by these impious men shall be for you, in a certain way, both a baptism and a ladder to heaven, purging away if there be any stain, if there be any filth, and leading you up like shining stars unto that King Himself, ^D and making you pleasant and desirable unto Him." And she, when she had encouraged them with such hopes and words, and had bestowed upon each the unassailable weapon, namely the seal of Christ, sends them away with thanksgiving and joy to their martyrdom. The outcome followed accordingly upon these hopes; and the soldiers, having taken them, cast them into the fire rejoicing, on the seventeenth day of November. But in the evening certain of the pious, having gone out to collect the relics, in-

find them whole and sound, so that not even a hair of them had been completely consumed by the flame, Providence having provided this first proof of their union with God. And having given thanks to God as was fitting.

^A XIV. And having drawn many to the knowledge of the truth by the paradox of the miracle, they deposit them brightly and holily in a certain place. The emperor Maxentius, however, was wholly occupied with the martyr, and she was a constant care to him, to such a degree that, to gain her, he set aside as of secondary importance even the care of the empire itself. And when he had despaired of being able to induce her by force of argument and debates, he attempted to entice her with flatteries, and used such words as these to the noble martyr: "Believe me, fair daughter, as one who counsels you with a father's affection; sacrifice to the great gods, and especially to Hermes, the patron of the Muses, from whom comes this great knowledge of yours, and who adorns you with such grace of speech. And I will share with you the power of the realm—let all the gods know this—and you shall dwell with me in the palace."

But she, being of a great and lofty spirit to accept the frankness of friends, and again most sharp to detect the flattery of enemies, even if it be woven in the most cunning and intricate labyrinths, said: "Lay aside, O emperor, the play-acting and the performance, and do not play the role of the deceitful fox. For I have already told you once that I am a Christian, and I have come to be wedded to Christ; and I have Him alone as bridegroom and counselor, and I count the ornament of virginity and the robe of martyrdom ^B far more precious than any royal purple."

The emperor, therefore, still pretending to care for her, said: "Do not force me to bring dishonor upon this bright purple of yours against my will."

She replied: "Do what you wish. For through this, which is temporary and quickly dissolved, you will procure for me true and immortal glory; and I believe that many another multitude, and especially those of your own palace, will believe in Christ through me, and they will escort me, and they themselves will proceed magnificently to His holy bridal chambers."

XV. This she said; but God assented from above and brought to pass what had been spoken. Maxentius, being most sharply moved by these things, commands the martyr to be stripped of that royal purple and to be most cruelly lashed with ox-sinews. And this having been done as he had commanded, and with the martyr's body being struck powerfully on the back and belly for two whole hours, she stood as if against shifting snows under the unbearable lashes; her virginal body was bathed in blood, and it drew ^C open tears from many who were present. But she stood so steadfastly and so nobly against that unbearable and violent force of the tyrant that she seemed almost to have a body of stone, had not the rivers of blood proven her nature; at length that inhuman beast, dizzy at the sight of the wounds, shuts the martyr in prison, ^D ordering her to be safely kept until the twelfth day.

saying, "until I consider how and by what means of torture I may finish her off." ^A And so it was; the martyr, having been delivered into prison, was reserved again for a second tribunal.

XVI. The Visit of the Empress

When the Augusta, the wife of the emperor, heard about the martyr and felt kindly and warmly disposed toward her in her soul, she longed to see her face and hear her speak, having heard such things reported of her. However, although she desired it, she could not achieve it; and not to achieve what she desired was to her the greatest and heaviest of calamities. ^B When, therefore, Porphyrius once came to her—this man was the commander of the army, a man most valiant of hand, excellently trained in warfare, and because of this held in great favor by the Emperor Maxentius, and possessing high standing with him—the empress, finding him alone, and intending to disclose to him a certain secret matter, first binds Porphyrius with an oath and receives a pledge from him that he will reveal the secret to no one. Then she explains to him her desire, and how she wished, while all were unaware, to meet the martyr and hear that blessed voice. And Porphyrius said, "I will bring about what you desire, my lady; only be ready by evening." ^C When evening arrived, Porphyrius, having taken along two hundred soldiers and having bribed the jailers with money, enters together with her to the blessed one. The Augusta, therefore, having seen that longed-for countenance of the martyr, and the divine grace blooming upon her, and having been struck with wonder at the radiant beam cast forth from her, falls quickly at her feet and pours out tears of joy, and spoke as follows with tears: "Now I am truly blessed and an empress, in that I have been deemed worthy of such a sight, and I see that my desire has finally been brought to fulfillment. For I, having long harbored a great longing for you, and being one who would gladly forfeit my very soul and my empire for the sake of enjoying your aspect and conversation, O servant of God, have now attained my desire. If death should follow hereafter, ^D it will no longer grieve me, since I have attained what I desired and have satisfied my love. I rejoice, therefore, in my heart and find my soul very well disposed, receiving such a sweet radiance from your countenance. You are, therefore, to be considered blessed and happy by right, because you have attached yourself to Christ, from whom such great gifts and graces are supplied to you."

XVII. To this the martyr said: "You are also blessed, Empress, because I see in the hands of angels a crown for your head, held on high, with which, after the third day and through the torture that awaits you, you shall be adorned and depart to the true King, reigning perpetually." "But I am timid," says the blessed empress, "and I fear the tortures; especially the emperor, for he is cruel and beastly, and delights in human blood. But the martyr says to her: "Be

of good courage; for you shall have Christ dwelling in your heart, and no torture shall touch you; for here your body shall be punished but a little, and it shall rest again there in immortality." While the holy one was saying these things, Porphyrius answering said: "I beseech you, tell me, what will Christ give me if I believe in Him? For I, too, already desire to be a soldier for Him." But the martyr said: "Have you not yet read or heard the Scripture of the Christians?" "Never," said Porphyrius, "for from my youth I have been ever occupied with wars, and have never turned my attention to other things." She said: "And what tongue could recount those good things which you shall enjoy? For it is impossible for speech to comprehend what has been stored up by that kindly right hand for those who love Him." Filled with joy at these things, Porphyrius himself also believes in Christ, with two hundred soldiers. And when the empress and they had taken leave of the martyr, and had provided that the things done by them should be kept secret from the guards, they depart from there in the middle of the night. But Christ’s martyr, Catherine, having the Lord more affectionate than a father, received from Him great care for herself. For during all those twelve days in which she was kept in custody, she received food from above through a dove. Then also, that noble arbiter of the contest, Christ Himself, appearing with the hosts around Him and with His own glory, further strengthened her fortitude and filled her with boldness, saying: "Do not fear, for I am with you; nor shall torture touch you, but since through your endurance you will have brought many to My name, you shall be deemed worthy of many crowns."

^B XVIII. When Christ had given these commands on the last night, in the morning Maxentius [Maximinus] sat on his throne and ordered the blessed one to be brought. And the martyr, standing by with spiritual graces and that sweet alacrity, so that even those who were present shone with a bright radiance, terrified the emperor very severely. He himself, however, says to her maliciously and deceitfully: "The empire becomes you, O daughter. Come, therefore, sacrifice to the gods and rule with us. And do not wish, I ask, to see such beauty perish in torments." But she said: "It is only earth and dust, and I say to you again, O emperor, time makes it flourish, and disease coming upon it withers it, seeing it has nothing firm or stable." While the martyr was saying these things to him, a certain prefect named Chursasadem, quick to anger but ingenious in punishing, hearing these words—partly grieving for the sake of Maxentius [Maximinus], and partly giving proof of his own goodwill—when he had restrained himself for a little time, as if meditating and inquiring within himself, said: "I, O emperor, having applied no little care, have found how you can either persuade her quickly or destroy her. The method is of this kind: ^C Order four wheels to be made under one axle, and on each wheel

let saws and sharp nails be fixed. Then let the machine be pulled by ropes and small wheels before her eyes. And if, when she has seen it being moved with the greatest violence and roaring, she is persuaded and sacrifices to the gods with us, she shall obtain the promised things; but if not, then being cast into the wheels, her soul shall miserably depart by force. ^A XIX. These things, then, the prefect said. But when the emperor had seized upon his words, he gave the martyr back into custody and ordered that the machine be prepared for the third day. When this was done, the martyr was again brought forward; and, "Obey me," said the emperor to her, "and sacrifice to the gods; or, if not, I shall subject you to this torment," ordering that that machine be drawn before her eyes. And when it was moved with a great roar and noise, the emperor said to her again, "Do you see?" he said, "this is what awaits you if you do not obey." But she said, "Many times, O emperor, have I declared my mind to you, and have made it clear to you; do not delay, therefore, but do what is set in your mind." Yet a certain hope was still deceiving the emperor, perhaps that she might be persuaded and change her mind, and he again employed flatteries toward her. But when he knew that he was laboring in vain, he ordered the noble martyr to be bound to the wheels, and them to be turned most swiftly, so that by the vehemence of the motion she might undergo a more grievous death. ^B But the divine grace brought a contrary outcome to these things. For the martyr was at once completely released from the iron, the wheels, and those bonds, an angel having flown down to her. And the wheels, rolling of their own accord, destroyed many of the infidels, so that some of those standing around cried out at the miraculous sight: "Great is the God of the Christians!" ^C Great, therefore, was the anger and uncontrolled madness of Maxentius at these things, and he contemplated even bitterer tortures for the martyr again. But the spouse, Augusta, appearing suddenly from the imperial bedchamber, and drawing him to herself, dissolved the plan; or rather, she herself became the destroyer of the plot. For she came as if from a spirit, saying, "Release the servant of the great God, whom torture does not touch. For you are truly foolish, contending against the living God." At which the emperor, boiling with greater anger, and especially because he did not have even those closest to him in agreement with him, leaving the martyr for the time being, poured his whole fury upon his wife.

^D XX. Having therefore caused a great chest to be brought and having affixed it to the ground with lead, so that it might be firm and immovable, and having opened it, he fixes the breast—oh, the grief!—of his own wife with a spike placed on the lid of the board. Then he ordered the lid to be brought down more violently, and not to stop before it had completely cut off her breasts, bringing to her a more grievous sense of pain through the duration of the punishment. When this had been done, and he saw them miserably cut off, that cruel man, and more savage than the wild beasts themselves, as if

he considered the matter a cause for pain, he pronounced the severer sentence, that her head should be severed by the sword. The Augusta, therefore, having gladly received the verdict, said joyfully to the martyr: Pray for me. But she said: Go in peace, for you will reign forever with Christ. She, therefore, by the emperor's command, had her head cut off outside the city on the twenty-third of November. ^B Nor did Porphyrius the commander of the army and those who were with him desert this blessed path; but just as they had there been guides to the Augusta toward the martyr, so also did they piously follow her as she departed to the common Lord. For when they too had presented themselves before the tribunal, Porphyrio said: I too am a Christian; but these also who are with me are an army distinguished, being brought to God. Maxentius could not endure to hear this, but having lamented from the depth of his heart, he said: I have perished, having lost the admirable man Porphyrius. Then also turning to his soldiers, he said: But you, for what reason have you held the gods of your fathers in contempt? When they had replied nothing, Porphyrio said: Why, having dismissed the head, O emperor, do you question the feet? It is with me ^C that you have to speak. He answered: O wicked head, are you the head of them? And not having allowed him to speak anything more, because of his rage, he immediately condemned them to death, and they were also made perfect on the day following, the twenty-fourth of the same month, and the prophecy was here also fulfilled, which the martyr had predicted to the emperor, when she said: Many from your palace will believe in Christ through me.

XXI.