Month of November

gathered much spiritual benefit from many others.

XIII. Not much time passed before rumor had it that a certain famous man named Pelagius ^B had departed from the living, one who in his life had practiced great discipline and virtue. And immediately a multitude of monks was gathered, and there were also gathered those who were otherwise pious and gentle, both those dwelling near the Jordan and those who were citizens of Nicopolis and Jericho, and finally all who lived round about came together and offered their parting respects. And when they approached the body and set out to anoint it with oil, they saw a strange and alien spectacle: a woman who had hidden her sex and had behaved as a man with fortitude, and had reaped a greater reward from her labors. Then there was a struggle among them all, one seeking to precede another and striving to get to [the body], and [each] esteeming it a great thing to approach the body alone and touch some part of it. And thus, with many lamps and with great honor, the precious relics of Pelagia were carried out, escorted and borne by holy and pious men.

XIV. Such is the life of the harlot; such are the strategies of this desperate woman against the enemy; such was her change for the better, and so easy is this for us, too, for the guidance towards something more excellent. Wherefore let anyone be of good courage, even if he is conscious that he did not act honestly at first, provided only that he is willing with his final deeds to wash away his former ones. Together with whom may the Lord grant us also to receive ^C the ineffable pleasure that is there, and to be deemed worthy of the crowns that are there. For to Him be the glory, with the Father and the holy and life-giving Spirit, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

LIFE AND CONDUCT AND ASCETIC EXERCISE OF OUR HOLY MOTHER MATRONA, MARTYR OF CHIOS.

(The Latin is in Surius at the 8th of November; we have transcribed the Greek from codex ms. Reg. n. 1481, 11th century.)

1. To praise, according to one's ability, those who are temperate in life and lovers of virtue, is at once holy and ^D beneficial.

^A For they themselves are worthy of praise, and the discourse concerning them is such that it touches upon similar things and kindles in others a desire for the same. But when that which is praised is a woman—which is to say, the weaker of human nature, and that which is most soft toward the harshness of labors—how is such praise not beneficial to men and women alike, being able to rouse both toward noble things: the women, that, partaking of the same nature, they might be seized by the same labors and rewards; the men, that they might not, being men, be seen as second to women and more ignoble in undertaking the same? Of these praised and virtue-loving lives, therefore, is Matrona, who vied with men in virtue ^B and, by her accomplishments, even surpassed them, as the things to be stated hereafter will show.

II. There is a certain region subject to the Roman empire, lying on the borders of the Cilicians and the Isaurians, named Pamphylia, which obtained such an appellation because of its being nourishing and populous, and for having inhabitants from every city. One of the cities under it is called Perge, in which this blessed Matrona was brought up, who, having obtained a liberal education and training from her parents, upon reaching the age for marriage (for she was also remarkable for her beauty), is joined to a husband not of the common sort and of no random standing, by name Domitian; and she becomes the mother of one daughter, to whom, from the things that were to come, she straightway fixed the name, calling her Theodote, having given her to God from her very swaddling clothes. Now, as for how, after her marriage and cohabitation, she practiced moderation and humility ^C and practiced not—in those superficial and cosmetic beauties, but rather in the inner man of the soul—the decorating [of herself], setting it as her study to live in temperance and with the gravity appropriate to life.

III. It is praiseworthy and otherwise grateful to pursue these subjects, but it would seem entirely superfluous were we, having passed over the greater and more perfect things, to choose to occupy the listeners with the memory of these. That, however, which she herself preferred above others, this it is fitting to set forth at the beginning of the narrative. For she judged that the word of the Apostle must be observed by her to the utmost. For he says that those who have wives ought to be as if they had them not. Wherefore, having of her own will departed from the land that bore her ^D — under divine providence, I say, which she also had as an assistant to her resolve—she makes her journey to the foremost of cities, Byzantium, along with her spouse, whom she had indeed accompanying her and not for a moment withdrawing, yet not cognizant of the things she contemplated, nor knowing what she held in her mind. Then, having entered the royal city, she would sit all day in the temples of the saints, not withdrawing from them by night or by day, concerning herself with fasting and prayer, and sharing her possessions with the needy, and at all times praying to God that the natural war might be quelled in her...

^A of the flesh. For she was at that time young in age, not having reached more than twenty-five years.

IV. She prayed, therefore, as has been said, to be released from the disturbances of the flesh, so that, being able to live without a husband, she might be free to occupy herself with spiritual and more divine things. There was a certain Eugenia who stirred her toward these virtuous things; she was what her name implied, noble in character, and one who spent her entire life in nightly vigils and prayers. Matrona strove against her in a good competition of discipline, diligently practicing those things in which monks are exercised. Domitian was annoyed by these daily practices and gave way to absurd reflections; he did not speak of her constant progress as something good, but, according to a mind leaning toward base desires, he began from that point to keep a strict watch, not even allowing her to look out of her chamber. A contest was established for both: for him, that he might not let her do what she was accustomed to do, and for her, that she might not be absent from the holy gatherings. But since he resisted strongly, she urged him with many prayers and at last with difficulty persuaded him to allow her to do what she wished.

V. With great fervor, therefore, she went to the temple of the holy Apostles. When she had arrived there, praying more intensely, she begged that nothing might be an impediment to her fleeing the world, but that they might offer her also to Christ, along with the community that had already been offered to Him by them beforehand. Having prayed in this way, and evening having already arrived and those who guarded the temple ordering everyone to depart, she found a dwelling in a certain portico among those who were there, belonging to a certain Susanna, who had long been known to her—a woman who from her earliest youth had chosen to preserve her virginity and to live her life toward God—and she spent the whole night with her. When day had already appeared, Matrona went to her teacher Eugenia to consult with her about the matters proposed. When many things had been said back and forth, the teacher said that this must be considered before all other things: how the situation regarding her daughter Theodote should be settled. But Matrona, who proposed to herself no ^B other goal than God, and neglected every other concern, said, "Let the solitary and monastic life receive me; but I entrust Theodote to Susanna and to God, and I am from now on released from all care regarding her." The deed soon followed her words.

VI. Again, seeking to learn how she ought to live in silence and please God, Matrona was instructed by the Lord through a manifest vision during sleep. This vision was truly marvelous. For it seemed that a certain man was pursuing her, but she, fleeing, was saved by certain monks; this indicated to her that it was necessary for her to undertake the life of the monks in a monastery. For in this way ^C

^A it would be unknown to her husband and to others. Having therefore shorn her hair right to the skin and donned the habit of a eunuch, she came again with Eugenia to the aforementioned temple of the divine Apostles; and wishing to learn the meaning of the obscure things from those more divine, she opened the holy Gospel and immediately encountered such a saying: "Whoever wishes to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me." (Luc. ix, 23). Hence, having an indubitable knowledge of the things that please God, and having dedicated their own selves to Him, and having expected to have Him as their helper in the things that were being done, they separated from one another.

Matrona, however, as has been said, having feigned to be a eunuch and having called herself Babylas, approached the monastery of the holy Bassianus; and having been received by the monks, she immediately stripped herself for spiritual struggles, not by the pallor of her countenance and the glumness of her face feigning piety, but rather by genuinely and truly pursuing virtue, and by every means striving to remain hidden, so that in a short time she was elevated ^B toward the summit of a life lived according to God, and was held in admiration by all, because a man who was burdened by the infirmity of a eunuch held out so strongly against labors, and vied to surpass all the monks, nobly restraining anger, despising glory as vain, and embracing every obedience with the utmost modesty.

VII. And indeed they could not envy her; for zeal according to virtue is free from all envy. But they wanted to pay attention to her all the more as a teacher, having been spurred on even before to imitation. And little would it have taken for what was hidden to be known, and for it to become manifest that she was a woman, had she not dispelled the suspicion which arose with spiritual wisdom. For at one time, as it happened concerning the gardening work that was taking place there, while she was toiling with the monks and was applying herself to the work more readily and eagerly, the monk who happened to be working with her, Barnabas by name—having cast his eyes upon her a little too curiously, as one who had come to the monastic ^C life from the stage not long before, even though he later progressed in virtue and was entrusted with the prefecture of the monks—asked how it had come to pass that both her earlobes were pierced.

The blessed one gave a reply that was both brief and considered, saying: "You have suffered a human thing, brother, yet one alien to our calling; for it is necessary to pay attention to the earth and not to gaze curiously at human countenances. But nevertheless, learn the solution to the question: she who once held and raised me, possessing a certain fond affection for me, was munificent enough to put golden ornaments in my ears." Thus the blessed one by a wise invention warded off the monk from suspicion. But a great crowd of thoughts entered into her, and she came to remember the admonitions of Eugenia, who said: "It is a very difficult matter for a woman to associate with men, and to [endure] ^D

^A appear as if she were a man, acting according to them; for it is impossible for the hypocrisy to remain hidden until the end." Nevertheless, being more attentive in her mind, and associating alone with God alone, she said, "By Your nod, O Master, I have undertaken the life of the monks, and I have followed without turning back the one who commanded me to follow; therefore, do not allow me to be deceived in what I have hoped for, nor to fall away from this good purpose. But do You Yourself, defending my weakness, grant that the end may correspond to my goal." Saying such things, she seemed to see in the purity of her soul a more favorable outcome.

^B VIII. Since she was in this state and was clinging to the spiritual way of life, her circumstances remained hidden for a long time from Bassianus, even though he was not devoid of the gift of discernment. Yet it was hidden from him by the wisdom of God and by judgments more inscrutable, just as some things were once hidden from Elisha by the Shunammite woman. But late and after a long time, the matters concerning her became manifest to him. And it happened in this way: The great Bassianus dreamed that he saw a man, honorable in his attire, decent in appearance, and seeming to be of a more divine nature, and this man said to him three times that Babylas the eunuch, who is one of the monks in your flock, is plainly a woman, but feigns to be a eunuch in order to remain hidden. At the same time, Acacius, a man illustrious for his piety, who happened to be the shepherd of the third monastery of the God-bearing ^C Abramius, saw the same vision. In the morning, therefore, Bassianus sent for one of the monks, a certain John who was second after him in the monastery, to tell him the dream he had. While he was discussing these things, someone came sent by Acacius, reporting to Bassianus the vision just as he himself had seen it. Then, therefore, the great Bassianus, desiring to obtain greater certainty about this matter, took the holy Gospel into his hands and, opening it, chanced upon those words which stated that the kingdom of heaven is like leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of flour, till it was all leavened.

IX. Having therefore understood the meaning signified in the depths, he deliberated with himself how he might skillfully address what was proposed, and ^D that this might not become manifest to the many. He sends for the blessed one, and glaring at her, he said, "What was the cause, O woman, that you have dared to undertake such an audacious task against us, and have inflicted upon us an unseemly temptation and reproach, while striving for so long a time to remain hidden?" But she, understanding what had been said and fearing the severity of his words, and stunned by the cloud of bitterness that had appeared upon his face, and especially having a conscience bearing witness to the things that were said, immediately casts herself upon the ground, and laying hold of the holy man's feet, [pouring out] words in great…

humility, though they were barely audible, she let them forth, saying: "I have not sought to bring temptation upon your flock, O master; rather, I have joined myself to it in order to flee the temptation from the adversary and to avoid the snares that are in the world." To this Bassianus replied again: "How is it that, being a woman, you approached the divine mysteries with your head uncovered, and in the kiss of peace you safely offered your mouth to the brethren?" She said: "Regarding the divine gifts, I feigned weakness and, without completely removing the covering that was on my head, I thus approached the communion of the mysteries; however, I never refused the sign of love towards the brethren. For I did not consider myself to be offering [myself] to the gaze of men, but to men who emulate angelic impassibility."

X. ^B Being amazed at this wise reply, Bassianus said: "And why, O woman, did you not betake yourself to another monastery, one where women are permitted to dwell?" She, having waited a little while and laid aside the greater part of her fear—having also found an occasion to use more words for her defense—unfolded her circumstances section by section: how she had been joined in lawful marriage to a husband and was called the mother of a single child; how she would spend entire nights lingering in the meeting places of the saints; and how, because the one who lived with her would sometimes threaten her and sometimes even inflict blows, she was hindered from such a zeal and purpose; and how she had sought out some mechanical pretext that would serve to escape the man's notice and enable her to carry out her own will. To these things she added the committal of her child to Sosanna, and finally she brought forward the vision she had in her sleep, in which, while fleeing her husband, it seemed she was saved by the hands of monks—which she understood, and so changed herself into this habit, changing her name as well. Having heard these things, and having been struck with wonder at the sharpness of her understanding ^C and having considered her resolve as acceptable, Bassianus inquired if she would choose the monastic life for the future. When she said "Most certainly"—for it was for this reason that she had become [a stranger] to the world and to the things of the world—Bassianus said: "Be of good courage, my child, concerning the future." And having given her the counsels he knew would be profitable to her, he said: "For the rest, my child, it is fitting for you to place a ribbon upon your head because of the law of nature, and thus await the heavenly calling; and I will not neglect those things which pertain to bringing you aid."

XI. ^D When she had thus departed from there, the Lord, who manages all things for what is profitable, caused the daughter of Matrona to depart from this life and took her to Himself, so that the wicked one might not have a pretext against her, and so that, since it was already known that she was a woman, he might not, under the pretext of taking care of the child, draw her away from her more divine concern and sow worldly thoughts in her mind. Wherefore she felt not grief, but pleasure at the event, deciding that what had happened was not the loss of a daughter, but

^A a deliverance from the cares surrounding her, and a laying aside of them. She was hidden, therefore, with Sosanna, or rather God was guarding her through Sosanna. Meanwhile, rumor was proclaiming everywhere what had been done by her, and the story reached the ears of everyone. Whence it happened that her husband Domitianus, hunting down the truth of what had occurred bit by bit, since he had not ceased to track down the affairs of his own wife, after having gone around to all the other monasteries, arrived also at that one in which the blessed woman had stayed. Emitting some indistinct and unseemly cries out of rage, and knocking importunately at the doors, and insulting [them], he said: "What is this violence that you have brought upon me? What is this great injury? It is surely a fine thing, O monks, very fine are the things that have been done by you. For why do you wish to divide badly those who were joined well? Give me my companion in life; give me her who is joined to me according to the laws." ^B

XII. These and more things than these he shouted out, moved by desire and overcome by distress of spirit, his voice being choked by his passion. He heard, however, from them: "We have not received your wife, nor indeed is it permitted for women to be granted entrance into the monastery. But we know a certain eunuch monk, Babylas by name, who lived with us for a time, and then suddenly changed his mind and decided to set out for Jerusalem. We know that he, therefore, having such a motive for traveling, had departed from us not many days before these. Where he is now staying, however, is known only to Him to whose eyes there is nothing that cannot be seen. ^C And that these things are true, the whole populace of the city would testify." Hearing these things, Domitianus, being frustrated in his intended inquiry and deprived of any plausible pretext, became all sorts of things: pained by his failure, enraged by zeal, and stirred to desire by his fondness for her. He departed thus, distracted by these agitations of mind.

XIII. A host of cares, however, beset Bassianus, lest the soul of Matrona, which had been committed to his faith, should truly have undergone destruction. Having called together those who were in a certain order of priority among the monks, he said: "We must consider further concerning the sister who has departed from us. For even if she was different in sex, yet since she was inscribed into our circle, we must consider the separation of her who has been [thus] divided from us as the amputation of a member. Let us therefore provide for her affairs, so that she may reach a good end, ^D lest the evil one, who plots against us daily, overcome her steadfastness by using her husband as an instrument suited for his traps." Thus, then, did Bassianus speak, setting the deliberation in common. Marcellus, however, who was then a deacon, suggested an opinion of this sort, saying that in the city of Emesa—for he himself had originated from there—there was a monastery of women, in which his own sister was one of those who were practicing [the ascetic life]. "If therefore it pleases you, let her be sent thither; for thus it will be possible for you to remove from her the cares concerning

the word." Having assented to what had been said and permitted it, the deacon immediately found a ship that was setting sail from there, placed the holy woman in it, and she returned. ^A

XIV. Having accepted what had come to pass with a cheerful spirit, as if it had not happened without God’s will, and having gathered a few things for food, she completed the voyage easily and well, with the Spirit urging the ship onward, and arrived at the monastic institution in Emesa. Being kindly received, she applied herself to the labors of virtue with such zeal that she was seen by the monastics as an example not easily attained by those competing in struggles equal to hers. ^B Wherefore it seemed good to all, after the departure of the one who had just been presiding over them, to entrust to her the entire governance of the monastery. But by as much as Matrona strove to remain hidden, by so much did God care to make her manifest, to place her light upon the lampstand, and to make her virtue evident. At that time, therefore, a certain farmer working his small plot of land saw, for many days, a flame being emitted from the earth, and the emission was continuous and never-ceasing. This man, therefore, being a farmer and unable to surmise anything higher, approached the bishop of the city and reported it. He, however, understanding that something great was signified by what appeared, came to the place together with his clergy; and as was fitting, having offered a prayer, he commanded them to dig up the ground. ^C When this was done, an urn was found, not hiding gold within or anything else of that sort which might entice a soul fond of finery, but a precious thing and one worthy of all, the truly venerable head of the Baptist.

XV. When this rumor had run everywhere, there was no one who remained at home, but all were flocking to the spectacle; by whom this venerable head is brought inside the church with all praise and hymns. Since the blessed Matrona was also present with all the monastics at the sight of what had appeared, she approached and drew from the ointment of the head, which had been set out; and communication of it was made, even against her will, to those who were present. But how and why this happened against her will, the narrative wishes you to attend and learn. For, having been cut off in the middle of the multitude and not being permitted to exit, as everyone was pushing themselves forward to receive it, she was compelled to share what she had gained of the ointment with the others. While she was distributing this, a certain man, blind from birth, passing by everyone (for there were also some priests then who were dispensing the divine ointment), came to her, being very insistent in his supplications. ^D She, having anointed the sockets of his eyes with the precious ointment, immediately made him a spectator of light, who never before

had witnessed it. This proclaimed her great and illustrious, and caused her to be renowned among all, so that everyone said she was the one who had meditated to escape notice for so long a time, and had spent her life among men, performing the works of monks.

^A XVI. This illustrious report again summoned Domitian, and, as if touching him by the hand, made him come to the monastery. But when he heard that men were forbidden to have entrance, concealing what he desired, he feigned piety; and he requested through certain women that he might see Matrona for the sake of prayer and veneration. She, however, having inquired quite precisely, and having recognized by the tokens on his face and by what she heard that he was her husband, what did she contrive? She asked for a period of seven days, and after those, she promised that at her leisure she would come into his sight. When Domitian heard this from the women, he himself sat suspended in hope, revolving in his mind the appointed day, waiting to see her, imagining in his vision that he already held her in his hands. But Matrona, again seeking to remain hidden, set out for Jerusalem, wearing nothing other than a garment woven from hair, and carrying with her but a tiny, meager scrap of bread.

^B XVII. When seven days had passed, the women came as had been agreed; but they heard from the nuns, who were themselves also burdened by great grief, that from the time when they had last met her, they had not seen her anymore, nor did they know where on earth she might be. Those women, having quickly gone away after they learned this, told Domitian. He, wounded by a more vehement pain of heart, ceased not to inquire curiously, until he came to Jerusalem. And when he happened upon other women, describing to them the appearance of the one he was seeking, he moved every stone, wishing to know where she was dwelling. But they said that they had indeed seen a woman of such an appearance, but could not know clearly where she might be; for wherever she might be seen at an inn, she would lodge in one of the temples that were there, but would hasten to move on to another place again. "We, however," they said, "will serve you in finding her; for having divided ourselves individually, we shall hasten, and whichever of us might first see her will run to you most quickly and inform you." And they did as they had promised.

^C XVIII. Matrona, however, having met Domitian as it happened, and having recognized him, fixed her eyes upon the ground and, allegedly reaching out her hand to pick up a stone, passed him by as he approached, cleverly escaping his notice. But when she encountered those others, understanding for what reason they were diligently searching throughout that whole region and that she had become known by the characteristics of her form and was all but captured, with a wise reflection she warded them off, asking that three whole days be granted to her to go to Mount Sinai, and after those she would come most quickly and come into the sight of her husband. When Domitian learned this, thinking it to be a pretext and again

^A seeking her, pursued her with great speed. But Matrona, having learned this, and that her pursuer was present and that she was being hunted, was seized with great fear. She entered into a certain idol shrine which was in Berytus, judging it better to fall in with demons or wild beasts than to be taken by the hands of Domitian. For if those take her, they will only harm the body; but the husband, if he should seize her, will be more destructive than demons and wild beasts, inasmuch as he is able to harm the soul along with the body, dragging her back to the world and claiming her as his own wife.

^B XIX. Being thus situated and exerting herself in hymns and prayers to God, she heard demons chanting in opposition and emitting voices similar to her own; and this happened for many days. The thing that was happening brought great fear to her. Then, having fortified herself with the sign of the cross, she went out against the terrifying ones. But since she could see nothing, she prayed for divine grace to make manifest to her that which was in doubt. Immediately, then, she saw them manifest—who previously were not seen—emitting dark voices and bringing fire, but again, upon being rebuked by her, they would depart and vanish like smoke. Sometimes, when thirst had seized the noble woman, going a little way from the shrine, she would turn to the grass and bring ^C dewy, green herbs to her mouth for a modest refreshment. And the Lord, who once miraculously rained down manna and fed the people to satiety—a people that was wicked and ungrateful—also displayed to her a drink and a table brought forth spontaneously. For in a parched place, receiving much sun, having found a small spot pregnant with a little moisture, and having dug it with sharp stones so as to be enough to drink with cupped hands, as night was already approaching, she herself went up to offer her accustomed prayers to the Lord. But on the following day, having arrived again, she finds the place full of water and a table of edible herbs, of a nature that did not at all fall short of the banquet being received, but rather gladdened her much more than sumptuous and costly feasts prepared for the wealthy.

XX. ^D Since she was conducting herself in this way and was praying to God at all times, the wicked one judged this to be grave and unbearable. Wherefore, having assumed the shape of a beautiful woman, appearing to her, he said, "Why, my lady, have you chosen to dwell in this obscure and alien place? For the solitude is long and the penury of necessary things is great; and besides, you are still young in age and of distinguished beauty; and I am very fearful for you, lest this lovable face be an occasion of desire to lustful eyes, and because of the solitude of the place, and because there is no one present to bring you aid, you bring contumely upon your own body. But if you would obey me, I would lead you down to the city itself, where you will also find a house according to your will, and you will live as you please without any disturbance; nor will you lack those things which

^A are necessary." Having realized that this was an insidious design of the adversary, she regarded these words as trifles and passed beyond the snare. But again that malignant demon did not cease, attacking her by every artifice and setting upon Matrona. Indeed, having even taken on the form of an old wandering woman, and appearing to emit fire from her eyes, it threw itself at her feet, madly and boldly, frightening her and uttering absurd and foul things. When, however, the blessed one took no heed of it, nor turned herself toward it, as if raging and insulting, it cried out: "Even if I could not defeat you, noble woman, when you were young, yet in your old age I shall inflict upon you things that are the most difficult of all. For the present, however, I shall stir up against you those who are in Berytus, so that you, who hold their idol shrine in contempt and, as much as in you lies, cause it to be held in despite, may be seen by them." ^B Such wicked wiles of the evil one were succeeded by more divine revelations and visions, in the way that God is accustomed to comfort in afflictions and to resolve sad things with more joyful ones. "For according to the multitude," says the divine David, "of my sorrows in my heart, thy comforts have gladdened my soul." And it happened as follows.

XXI. As she was offering her prayers in the evening, as was her custom, three men appeared, standing openly, and seemed to be chanting psalms with her; and for several hours a bending of the knees was performed by them behind Matrona. When she turned her face to see who they might be, ^C they, having mildly and calmly said three times, "Pray for us," immediately departed. As therefore her virtue rendered her more and more manifest, the rumor spread everywhere that the spirits of malice fled from Matrona, and that the shrines of the idols were becoming empty of demons. Whence also many came to her, doing so many things just to commune with her in words. From this it came about that a certain woman named Sophrone, living her life temperately and in accordance with her name, but who was addicted to the false religion of the Gentiles—along with others who held the same opinion, having renounced parents and friends and all things of this world—surrendered themselves to Matrona and lent attentive ears to her, and indeed, within a short time, were deemed worthy of the saving baptism by her. ^D Among whom was also a certain Gentile virgin who was a priestess of the idols; having heard about the holy one, and having condemned her own gods, and being filled with divine zeal, she gave to the poor that which was offered by the Gentiles to the demons and which was to be consumed in impious sacrifices; and having departed from all, she approached Matrona with ardent zeal, and made herself one of those who had determined to follow her.

XXII. But when the day arrived on which it was necessary for the sacrifices to be performed, and the multitude of the people and those related to her by birth were assembled, not finding her, they knew not how they might perform things done according to custom, since the priestess was not present. And since they could not discern

^A what had happened, though with difficulty and late—the parents having learned this—they proceeded with haste to the idol temple where the holy woman happened to be. And seeing her staying close to the feet of the holy woman, they used more rash words, saying: "Why, O young girl, having held the greatest gods in contempt, have you left the sacrifices incomplete, and incited a multitude against us that does not bear the insult which is done to the gods, and you yourself, instead of the best and considered blessed life, have chosen this infamous one, which is clearly held in contempt? Therefore, having cast off the madness that suddenly oppressed you, be wise at last, and having laid aside this mournful habit, come out joyful to us who are joyful, lest the place of what seems to you salvation should become the tomb of your destruction. For if you do not do what is commanded, the present dwelling place will be consumed by fire tomorrow." When they had said such things, they heard nothing from her.

^B XXIII. But Matrona said to them in a friendly and peaceful manner: "Let her be," she said, "she is already a servant of God, the God of the universe, who was formerly a servant of your gods. There is nothing from now on in common between her and you." Having heard these things, they returned, threatening the burning of the temple and other most grievous things. But the maiden, lying at the feet of the blessed Matrona, prayed fervently to Christ that she might be sealed with His sign and be deemed worthy of divine baptism as quickly as possible. When Matrona had permitted the others to wait, she herself went out to collect dry material; and when she had collected a great deal and returned, "Let some of you," she said, "go with all haste and declare to those who came a short time ago, saying: 'Fire is prepared for you, and material in abundance. ^C But for what reason does your arrival delay, so that the threats which were intended by you may receive an end?'" When they heard these things, and admired the intelligence of her plan and the nobility of her spirit, they knew not what they might answer against her, and they dared not return there afterward. Then, indeed, to those who had returned, the blessed woman gave another service again, to go and meet with the bishop and to bring with them one of the priests and a deacon. And this having been done with great speed, she handed over the priestess who had recently approached to the priests who had already arrived, and permitted them to catechize her, and to baptize her, and to bring her back to her.

XXIV. Therefore, having been brought back after baptism, Euche—for this is what she had been renamed—was led through every spiritual discipline, and was trained in divine things along with the others, who were eight in number. ^D The holy woman was so pleasant in discourse, and breathing the good fragrance of God, that many of those who conversed with her, after she had ceased to speak, though wishing to return home, would depart from her with difficulty, as if they were constrained by some bonds of love for her, or like those who, having satisfied themselves with beautiful water in their thirst, for that reason bear their departure grievously. But furthermore, the desire to meet Bassianus again took possession of her,

as he then was in the Queen of Cities, Constantinople, and her husband Domitianus was also present there; the fear of her husband, lest she fall into his hands if she should arrive in the Queen of Cities, repelled her yearning. Hence, being divided ^A in her thoughts by these two things—the longing for her spiritual father and the fear of her lawful husband—she thought rather to reach Alexandria, or, if she failed in that, Antioch. For this reason she applied herself the more intently to prayers and awaited from the Lord the revelation of what would be profitable for her.

XXV. Having thus fallen into sleep, she thought she saw three men, and that each of them was contending vehemently and resisting strongly as to which of the three ought to be preferred to take her as his wife. And as she seemed to turn away her ear, thinking the affair altogether absurd (for a dream seen in opposition to the thoughts of the day is a cause of alarm), ^B she appeared to say to them, "Who are you, and what are your names?" They replied that one was named Alexander, another Antiochus, and the third Constantinus, and that they were trying to settle the dispute by lot; the lot fell upon the one who was young in years; this one was Constantinus. Having awakened, and understanding what the revelation of the vision intended, she determined to abandon the way that led to Alexandria or Antioch; she was now entirely set upon the journey to Constantinople. For she said that this was pleasing to God, who clearly manifested the meaning of things that were obscure.

XXVI. Having communicated the dream to her sisters, she saw them resisting her will; not because they judged that what had been seen signified anything else, but because they loved her greatly and could in no wise endure to depart from her, as though they were newly planted shoots being watered ^C by her words and in danger of withering through her absence. "Nevertheless," they said, "since divine providence has become an assistant to your counsel, we are in no wise able to block your resolve; but, they said, as a secondary matter, let it be your care to whom you will leave us after your departure." She then immediately made the matter known to the bishop and asked him to send to her two deaconesses whose virtue had been established by time. When they had arrived, the most blessed matron entrusted to their care those under her direction as a kind of deposit, and urged them to prize highly the souls entrusted to their faith, so that those whom God had caused to renounce the world they might not allow to return again ^D to the vanity of the world and neglect their covenants.

XXVII. Having said these things and given them a final embrace, and having taken with her only one of them, Sophrone, she boarded a ship and, carried along by a favorable wind, she reached Constantinople. Then, having arrived at the church situated near the sea, which is called the church of Eirene from the name of the peace of God—

^A she called for the deacon Marcellus, and made herself known to him. This was the same man whom our narrative has already mentioned as having advised Bassianus to send her to the monastery in Emesa. He received her gladly, and asked what the cause of her long journey might be. She replied: "Nothing other—for what else could it be that would make one despise so much toil?—than an irresistible desire to meet you, and especially," she said, "the divine Bassianus, on account of which I have disregarded old age, the weakness of a woman, a quiet way of life, and everything else, and have become intent solely on the path leading to you." Then she briefly recounted the persecution by Domitian at Jerusalem and Mount Sinai, her stay in the idol temple, and how a countless multitude was brought to piety through her. She recounted this not with a desire for display, but with a love of truth; for such display is foreign to a humble mind and to one who strives for nothing so much as to remain hidden. Moreover, she judged that it would be improper, and could provide a pretext for scandal, to be branded as a deserter, having once enrolled herself in the monastic life.

^B XXVIII. Marcellus immediately reported each detail to the divine Bassianus. He, having heard this with sadness, ordered him to depart as quickly as possible and to set apart for her a quiet dwelling, free from noise and not far from the monastery, so that it might be easy for anyone wishing to visit her to do so. He quickly carried out what was commanded, and having prepared a suitable house, he placed the saint in it. When the great Bassianus came to that place, he held a conversation with her, and having said what was necessary, and also having learned from her of those things which had happened to her, and having provided her with what she needed, he asked her if she had need of anything else. Since she said that there were other sisters in Berytus who wished to come to her and live with her, he immediately signified this by letter to the bishop of Berytus, and ordered him to send those whom Matrona had requested by name as quickly as possible. These, having been sent and dwelling together with Matrona, rendered to her the utmost obedience, for she provided herself as the most perfect example of virtue, which proclaimed her ^C and made her manifest to all much more than many voices. For, along with many others, the Empress Verina, wife of the great Leo, also visited her, and she judged that in this she was honoring not so much the saint as herself. And when she was received by her with moderation and frugality, and with the hospitality that it was fitting for that tranquil and philosophical woman to bestow, she departed admiring her virtue, and the fact that she sought nothing from one who was both able and willing to give much.

XXIX. Euphemia, the wife of Anthimus, who had once been prefect of the city of Rome, having become a friend of the holy one and having been convinced by experience of her character, when at that time she saw the woman who had been joined in marriage to the patrician Sporacius fall into a severe illness—

^A one who was surpassing in the medical arts yet showing no hope of life—she said: "If you will be persuaded by me, bid farewell to the physicians; for the present, commit yourself to the common good that has newly arrived in the city, I mean the holy Matrona, who has delivered many not only from bodily illnesses, but even from diseases of the soul, turning them from impiety to the true worship of God. And you yourself will marvel before long, and will send many others to her." Having said this, she recounted to her from beginning to end who she was and what manner of life she had led.

On the following day, therefore, both came to her, and when their conversation had been drawn out for a long time, the sufferer, having taken the right hand of the blessed one, applied it to the part that was aching, and immediately she felt the malady ^B lighter. Matrona asked the reason why she had touched her. When the sufferer told the truth, she said: "The Lord will deliver you from the distress that grips you; for our own powers are not capable of such working."

XXX. The sufferer, therefore, from that time, considering that the gravity of the malady was subsiding, pondered remaining with the holy woman, awaiting complete deliverance from that which brought her discomfort. For this reason, she also gave orders for the animals that served her needs to remain there. But when it was reported to her that there was no other lodging to receive her—for there was only one, and this was occupied by rent—she immediately entered into discussion with the blessed one. "The splendor of my lineage," she said, "has provided me with considerable wealth, and indeed an abundance of houses constructed with beauty and scale. Of these, whichever you wish, provided they are within one precinct, I am ready to bestow upon you, being about to become a dwelling place for many souls destined to be saved, and primarily for my own benefit." As for her, having perceived through the Spirit for how many souls a door of salvation would be opened by this, she agreed to accept it, and having summoned the deacon Marcellus, and having entrusted the matter to him, she sent him to inspect what had been promised. When he had inspected it, having returned, he reported that the site was indeed well-situated, having the sea on the right, and on the other side providing the monastery of Bassianus as a neighbor, but that it was not in need of small or ordinary care, but rather of great diligence.

XXXI. These things were not yet fully reported, and the promise met its fulfillment: and when the gift had been confirmed in writing, straightway to her also was the perfect gift of health granted by God. After this, moreover, she built the houses more magnificently, in that her munificent hand provided whatever expenses were needed for their correction and decoration. Hence it is that all to this day call them the Severianae. From there, when the holy woman had migrated from her former dwelling, she did not at all migrate from her purpose which is toward God, and from her works; unless one should call this a migration—from lesser things to greater, from which also she would proceed to a great

- ^A er increase. And another such thing occurred besides the rest, which made her even greater.

XXXII.

XXXIII.

and eating sparingly, just as she did, offering prayers before and after her meal, and, as far as her strength allowed, imitating all the things that the blessed woman did. While she was thus occupied and seeking an honorable separation from her husband, a certain event occurred that provided a very honorable release. For while she was away, as the account previously explained, her husband, who was extravagant and intemperate in his habits, was incurring great expenses. Being thus reduced to poverty, he persuaded a boy to steal something secretly from his wife’s chests ^A and bring it to him. When this was done, it did not escape the notice of the maidservant who guarded the mistress's belongings. When Athanasia learned of this from her, she seized the remaining opportunity, not in just one way, but in every way, striving for a separation, and at last, having persuaded her husband, and having taken with her a large part of the property that belonged to her, ^B she entrusted her soul to the faith of Matrona; and approaching her, she offered her wealth, saying, "Take these, I pray, and lay them up in the inviolable treasuries of Christ, which cannot be stolen; and do not despise a soul that depends upon your holy soul, and which dedicates everything it has to you."

XXXIV. Matrona, however, while rejecting administration as burdensome and distracting, yet accepting the suppliant’s volition, was nonetheless at a loss as to what she should do. She therefore shares the matter with Bassianus ^C and, having received his advice, accepts what had been offered. Some of the money she spent on works for the monastery, surrounding the retreat with a wall and building a three-story housing structure. The first, near the ground, was set apart for tombs; the second, in the middle, was suitable for wintering and had a temple—at that time, it was also convenient for assembly; the third and final one was itself also adorned with a most beautiful temple and was well-situated for spending the spring. These remain even to this day, proclaiming the generosity and splendor of the building. In these works, as has been said, some of Athanasia's money was spent; the rest she distributed to the monasteries that were in Jerusalem and to others that were in need, and to those otherwise lacking in necessities, with the good Marcellus piously serving in these matters. ^D Thus, indeed, Athanasia, having lost the wealth that flows away, acquired wealth into which decay cannot fall.

XXXV. After she had lived for fifteen years in this manner of life, she was released from her present life and began her blessed journey to God. Thus, Matrona’s flock was increased, with many coming daily and wishing to be fed by this teacher. But when the time of her dissolution drew near, the holy woman clearly showed that she was not unsettled by the preparation of these works at the prospect of her departure: "For I was prepared," says the divine David, "and I was not troubled." (Ps. CXVIII, 60.) And neither again

did she hasten her departure; the former, as has been said, because of her confidence, but the latter, because of her love for her flock. Therefore it was more necessary for her to remain in the flesh, according to Paul, and for the sake of reaping more fruits from having labored more. Wherefore, in the end, she exerted herself in greater labors, like good runners, and was given to more frequent and intense prayers.

^B XXXVI. But since God did not wish to deprive Matrona of even this consolation—that, before her departure from here, she should know the state that would receive her there—a sleep greater than usual took hold of her. In it, she seemed to be walking through a place exceptionally planted with trees, irrigated by the sweetest waters, and surrounded by an estate of the greatest delight; in this place, certain grave and honest women stood by, clearly showing in their countenances the marks of virtue. They seemed to show her by hand an inner dwelling, of such exceptional beauty that no human hand could fashion it, nor any tongue could describe it. They called to Matrona, saying that she should enter into it, for "this is yours, and has been especially set apart for you." Having awakened, she understood the direction of the dream, and it gave her faith regarding what things would await her after her departure from here. ^C And so, her whole time of life having been measured out to one hundred years—of which only twenty-five were those in which she lived a worldly life, while she spent all the rest living according to the Spirit—she left the things here and departed to her longed-for Christ, leaving behind deeds that were indeed marvelled at by all, but which only a few were able to imitate, while she herself constantly besought the Christ to whom she had come to grant peace to the churches and salvation to all his people, for he is the one whom she glorified as of the undivided Trinity, to whom is due all glory, honor, and worship, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

LIFE AND CONDUCT OF OUR HOLY FATHER AMPHILOCHIUS, BISHOP OF ICONIUM

(Nov. 23. — Published in Greek now for the first time from cod. ms. n. 1554, 15th century; in Latin from our translation.)

^A I. If anyone were to set down in writing the life of Amphilochius while he walked upon the earth, he would be handing down something illustrious to memory. For the whole Church would surely suffer a very great loss if his virtues and the deeds he performed so remarkably for the sake of the only-begotten Son of God were to be passed over in silence. Therefore, in order that we may demonstrate both the love of what is beautiful and pay praise according to our ability, we must proceed to the narrative, first speaking of his homeland and of the sort of parents he had, of his upbringing, and of those whom he associated with in friendship.

^B II. This holy man, devoted to God, was born of noble lineage in the East, in the land of Cappadocia, and he associated as friends and companions with Basil the Great and Gregory, who were likewise Cappadocians and likewise remarkably distinguished by their character and learning. This is clearly shown by his letters written to Basil the Great concerning ecclesiastical questions, and by the solutions to the questions given to him, which even today are preserved for the pious as a rule. Since, therefore, he had obtained the same homeland as them and partook of the same faith and piety as they did, he was not second even in virtue, but was equal to them. For being born of pious parents and having obtained a refined upbringing and education, when he grew to manhood, he was set aflame by that fire which Christ cast upon the earth; and following the example of the great Abraham, after abandoning his fatherland and bidding farewell to his kinsmen and friends, he departs far from the tumult of life and enters the region of the Lycaonians. ^C And having found a cave in the wilderness, which was particularly suitable for fostering his love of quiet, he shut himself up in it; and having constructed in it, as best he could, a place of prayer to the Ever-Virgin Mother of the Word of God, he led a life there that fell little short of the angelic. For he was engaged unceasingly in hymns, in perpetual fasting, and in a vigil that was, as it were, equal to that of the bodiless powers; he slept on the ground, was given to a life of hardship, and applied himself continuously to tears and virtue, hidden in the innermost recesses of his heart. His prayers were assiduous, and his mind was in no way...

fixed upon earthly things, but was always entirely elevated and raised up towards God. Those who lived in the neighborhood and beheld him ^A shining with these summits of virtuous attainments, approached him with great faith, renouncing the whole world and choosing to walk the same path. He had already spent almost forty years in his ascetic practice, when John, who at that time presided over the church of the Iconians, departed from this life. But the providence of God, to which the inner thoughts of his heart had long been known, called him to take the throne of the one who had departed; and how this happened, it is proper to relate.

III.

ask about what had happened, but they simply fell at his feet and, having been deemed worthy of a blessing, departed.

^A IV. Then, as he was returning to his cell, seven bishops, whom divine providence had sent to him, met him; it had instructed them in his character and had bidden them to ordain him bishop of Iconium. Approaching him, therefore, they said, "Are you the one acceptable to God, Amphilochius?" To which he replied in a low and gentle voice, "I am the sinner Amphilochius." And taking him with them, they arrived at the church, wishing to bring to completion the things commanded to them by the divine Spirit. But when they were already putting on their priestly vestments, the blessed man, understanding what they were intent upon doing, said, "Brothers and Fathers, every lie is directly from the evil one; truth, on the contrary, is pleasing to God. I must, therefore, profess the truth, so that you may know it and decide regarding what has happened. This night, angels of God were seen consecrating me, the sinner, as bishop of the city of the Iconians." Hearing this, they looked at one another, struck with amazement at the marvelous nature of the event; and comparing these words with what they had observed themselves, they knew that his ordination was truly in accordance with the divine will. Therefore, having gathered all the bishops and the clergy of the province, they announced to them what had happened, and by common vote they established him as high priest and installed him upon the throne of the city of the Iconians. Having thus received the helm of the Church, he shepherded it worthily of Him who had called him to this, watering them with the stream of life and feeding them with the bread of piety.

^B V. Three years after the fury of Arius and Sabellius, who were diametrically opposed evils, and after Macedonius and Eunomius had attempted to pervert the Church, the great Theodosius convened a synod at Constantinople. And there was a discussion among the bishops concerning the glory of the only-begotten Son of God; the orthodox maintained that He was consubstantial and equal to the Father, while the heretics strove to detract from and lower Him from the Father’s glory and consubstantiality. But it was altogether necessary that the Holy Spirit should carry the victory, and that the mouth of the divine Amphilochius, as a specific instrument, should reduce the heretical nonsense to silence. ^C Accordingly, this admirable man also arrived, and was reckoned by the orthodox as a right hand against the enemies of the truth. And since he was ordered to travel using public transport, he took with him Theodulus, the archdeacon of his church, and set out from the city. Having taken a live coal of fire from there and hidden it in a piece of linen, he handed it to the archdeacon, telling him to keep it with him until it should be needed; and he made the journey fasting. Upon entering Constantinople, he stopped at the house of a pious widow. When he heard that all the churches of the city remained closed with bolts and bars, he nonetheless went forth to pray in them; and falling on his knees before the porch of each, he strove to obtain through prayer from God that He would strengthen the orthodox Church and that He would [grant] to him the eloquence of the truth as a helper.

^A Straightway therefore the doors of the churches opened of their own accord; and he entered, and gave himself the more to prayer. While he was praying, a divine appearance of an angel manifested itself to him, and strengthened him for the struggle set before him.

Amphilochius, then, was lodging with the aforementioned woman; but Eunomius and those of his party, having learned that Amphilochius had arrived, and that the doors of the churches had opened to him of their own accord, urged by the sting of envy, requested the king that it might be permitted them to dispute with Amphilochius, for, trusting in the power of their eloquence, they hoped to capture him immediately from the beginning. Wherefore, with a multitude and great pomp, Eunomius repaired to him and asked if he were that famous Amphilochius. He replied that he was a sinner. Then Eunomius said, "Why do you disturb the Church of God?" To which the great man retorted, "I do not disturb it, but you and the house of your father, Satan."

Then Eunomius [said] again, "Since the evangelical doctrine declares the Son to be posterior to the Father according to time and less than the Father, how do you say that He is contemporary and consubstantial with Him? For the theologian's voice says: 'In the beginning was the Word.' If He was in the beginning, it is clear that He is posterior to the Father, who is without beginning; for every beginning falls under time, ^B but the Father exceeds time. There was, therefore, a time when the Son was not."

"But, my good sir," Amphilochius replied, "you have misunderstood the meaning of 'beginning' and have constructed your argument with a faulty conclusion. For if the Word was God, and all things were made through Him—and time itself is one of the things that were made, 'For through Him,' says the Apostle, 'He also made the ages'—then the Son also exceeds time. For how could that which is made by One exist prior to Him through whom it came into being? If this is so, then the Son is entirely timeless, according to the theologian's voice, as you well know. But if the term 'beginning' gives you a suspicion of time against the Son, and you have supposed Him to be born after the Father, to me at least this gives cause to conceive of the Son as coexisting with the Father. For we do not understand the words, 'In the beginning was the Word,' according to your notions, as a beginning ^C in terms of time; for thus the Creator of times would himself be posterior to time. Rather, we understand it as a beginning, as one might say, of an eternal subsistence, and that the Son is always, and was from the beginning, and did not come into existence afterward.

"And that the Evangelist, wishing to demonstrate this, said 'in the beginning,' observe for me how, by adding to it, he brought forward [an explanation] of the Word again; for what he said was 'in the beginning' before, he now declares to be the same, saying that He was 'from the beginning'—and what could be older than that which was from the beginning? This is so that your curiosity might be entirely escaped, and that it might teach that the Son was always, and coexisted with the Father, and was not newly introduced, nor was some new God added to the ancient One. For in order to destroy the Jewish opinion, lest it seem that he was introducing ^D some new being, but rather He who was always the counselor of the Father, to whom He said, 'Let us make man according to our image and likeness,' he appears to introduce Him becoming flesh..."

^A For this reason He uttered, "In the beginning was the Word." For how could that thought of the Theologian, which you interpret wrongly, have entered your mind, so that you might prove the Son to be posterior to the Father, and join to the creatures Him who created all creation in wisdom, or by introducing the Word Himself saying, "I am in the Father, and the Father is in me"? For if He had come into being later, and had not always coexisted in the Father, there is a danger that, before He was made, the Father would have been, according to you, without the Word and without wisdom. And how is it said that by wisdom He founded the earth, and by His sense the depths were cleft? Or how will it seem to you that by the word of the Lord the heavens were established, and all their power by the spirit of His mouth? And how could He have conceived any of the things that were to be, being deprived of word and wisdom, or how could He have brought forth the Word Himself at the beginning, according to you, if He were devoid of word and wisdom? And whence would it have occurred to Him to wish to bring forth a Word that did not exist? For the human and our own mind itself, if it were entirely deprived of word ^B and did not have this inherent [word], how would it differ from the mind of animals, unless you—but God be merciful; for you are the cause of this blasphemous utterance, as you lay it down as a dogma that the mind of God and Father, at the beginning, was deprived of the Word, and was like the mind of animals.

VI. Eunomius says again: "And how will you explain to me the saying, 'The Lord created me the beginning of his ways for his works; and before all the hills he generates me'?" For as from the person of wisdom itself, the Word proceeded, confessing that He is a creature, yet was brought forth before all creatures. For having created her, God through her fashioned the things that are. To which Amphilochius [says]: And what difficulty does this hold for one who receives the saying with good sense, and not with contentiousness or malevolence? For if it were impossible for God to create the things that are in any other way, unless He first created wisdom as a sort of instrument ^C through which He might bring forth the things that are, one would surely ask again by whose-some [instrument] He created wisdom. For it would certainly be something else that created her, and this too would have been created by an unwise—alas!—and irrational God. But if, you will say, the Lord created her, how, being unwise, did He create? How, being deprived of word? Do you see into what absurdities one is carried who refuses to receive the sayings of the divine Scripture with good sense? It is evident to one who interprets such a passage with good intent that the Father generates the Word before all hills, not as one who does not exist, but as one who does exist He generates [Him]; since a plant also generates a flower, not that which it did not have in itself, but that which it had potentially, and a grain of wheat generates wheat, as that which it had potentially. ^D He creates [Him] insofar as He willed that He should in later time assume the created flesh. For this reason the Son also calls the Father His God. "For I ascend," He says, "to My Father and your Father, and My God and your God." For God is the God of the creature, not of the Word. But if the phrase, "Before all hills He generates me," provides you a pretext to suppose that a little before [His] gen-

generation [the Father] creates the Son, it is time for you to place Him after the angels as well. For the angels are older than the hills, before which the Son is said to have been generated. Caught by these words as if in a trap, and having no answer to such a clear and acknowledged truth, Eunomius, as if deferring the contest with a fair-sounding argument, said, "Not now, but tomorrow, I shall dispute before you, the king, and many others, and I shall show that you are prattling in vain and saying nothing at all that is sound." And Amphilochius replied, "But you will not be permitted to converse, even if you wish." ^B VII. Thus the disputation reached its end. But as Eunomius was departing for home, a severe fever seized him, and he was forced to take to his bed. The whole city was in suspense, awaiting this promised dialogue. The servant of God, however, spent the whole night in prayer, that there might be granted to him by grace from above the power of speech for the confirmation of the sound and true faith. As the day was already dawning, he called for his archdeacon and said, "Today, my son, it is set before us either to live or to die. But what I tell you, strive to bring to an end; since it is the custom, as you know, when bishops enter before the king, for the deacon to proclaim, 'Stand upright.' Do you do this when we are about to enter." He replied, "I fear, master, that if the king sees me doing this, he will immediately kill me." ^C He said, "Fear Him who commanded not to dread those capable of killing the body, but rather Him who is able to destroy both body and soul in hell." And he said, "As you have commanded, so shall the deed come to pass." When he reached the palace and was already about to go in to the king, having put on his priestly vestments, he said to the deacon, "Give me back the deposit that I entrusted to you when I was leaving the metropolis." Immediately, therefore, he unfolded the linen in which the coal had been wrapped and found it still burning—O what a new miracle!—it having neither been extinguished in the interval, nor the linen harmed by the fire in any way. Having then placed the coal in the censer and added some incense to it, he ordered the deacon to exclaim as had been commanded. And he cried out in a louder voice, "Stand upright!" ^D Those present were startled and immediately rose from their thrones. The king not only reproved the ill-timing of the act and was filled with wrath, but those who led the heresy, seizing the opportunity, said to the king, "Did we not say to your majesty beforehand concerning this man, that he is a trifler and a fool?" Amphilochius approached and said, "Hail, O king." Then, turning to his son sitting on the right, he said, "And hail to you, child," having made the greeting in a somewhat careless and cursory manner. The king, having heard this neglected greeting of his son, flared up in anger and was close to laying hands upon the saint. Already

^A unable to restrain himself, but leaping up, he said to the saint, "Why have you done this, that you have greeted me, but have slighted my son and treated him as if he were an ordinary person? Is he not also a king? Is he not surrounded by a crown and purple raiments and all the other insignia of royalty? Now your head shall not remain upon your shoulders."

Amphilochius replied, "If you, O king, who exist today and tomorrow are subject to the common fate and will be resolved into ashes, are indignant when your son is not honored as is fitting, and consider the matter as an insult to yourself, will not the immortal King be much more indignant when His own Son is insulted by the impious? Or how do you think He will bear the belittling of the Only-Begotten?"

The king, still overcome by wrath, said, "Why, you impudent old man, do you behave like a dog, bringing forward such shameless things?"

Amphilochius replied, "You have spoken aptly, O king: for I am old in years, and shameless on account of the impudent; and I employ the ways of dogs on account of the wolves who spoil and tear apart the Church of God. For as long as I see them attacking the flock of my Christ, I will not cease to bark against them."

^B VIII. Then the king, as one whose heart divine grace was calling back to what is good, suppressed his anger and became aware of the words of the holy man, and rising, he embraced and kissed him, saying, "Well and truly has Amphilochius, chosen by divine verdict, spoken. For if I, being a man, have not mildly endured the insult brought upon my son, how will God endure the abasement of His own Only-Begotten Son?"

He therefore immediately ordered that Eunomius and his followers be cast down from their thrones and sent into exile, and that they first be severely scourged ^C and placed upon camels, and thus be paraded through the center of the city. He detained Amphilochius with him and readily gave his attention to his words and teaching. After many days had passed, the blessed man said to the king, "The time requires that shepherds return to their own sheep."

However, the king, having dismissed the others, wished to keep him with him longer. But when he noticed that he was being held by a vehement desire to return, he ordered him to ask for whatever he wished. The saint replied, "What I have desired, God has now accomplished through you, and this will remain to the end. For the rest, there is nothing earthly I wish for such that I might ask ^D your majesty for any such thing."

But when he was urged more and more by the king to ask for something, he said he wished for two temples to be built in the city of Iconium, one in the name of the Wisdom of God, the other of John the Baptist; which the king promised to do with great willingness of mind. And so, having received from him a golden cross, in which was a particle of the precious wood of the life-giving cross, he took his leave of the king.

Having again completed his journey through hunger, he entered his cave, and there deposited the royal gift. And when he had spent the night without sleep, in the morning, having gathered the clergy, he celebrated the divine mystery, and thus entered the city of Iconium. Then, having sent what was by Amphi-