Encomium of St. Gregory Palamas by Philotheos of Constantinople

EDITOR'S ADMONITION OF THE PATROLOGIA

^A The following monuments, which pertain to the life and tenets of Gregory Palamas, we had initially determined to exclude; but after having weighed the matter more maturely, we have changed our plan, moved chiefly by the reasons which we lay out here for the reader, confident that he will add his own vote. 1° The heresy of the Palamites, having long since been exploded by its own absurdity, now pertains to history, and there is no reason to fear that its exposition could be a danger to anyone, especially since distinguished and holy men, whose writings we have published or will publish, have taken upon themselves the task of refuting it. 2° By this exposition, nothing is taken away from the crown of the Church; indeed, its glory receives an augmentation therefrom; for by bringing the arguments of this most wretched heresy into the light, we celebrate the triumph of the Church over it. Finally, the third and most important reason is that the most learned Bishop who has often, as it were, led us by the hand in our labors, was the author who advised us to publish these monuments; which he certainly would not have wished to be done had he believed there was any danger involved. However, we present them only in Greek, because they are not a part of the orthodox tradition which revives in our books.

OF THE MOST HOLY AND MOST WISE ARCHBISHOP OF CONSTANTINOPLE, NEW ROME, AND ECUMENICAL PATRIARCH, LORD PHILOTHEOS: ENCOMIUM ON OUR FATHER AMONG THE SAINTS, GREGORY PALAMAS, ARCHBISHOP OF THESSALONICA, IN WHICH IS ALSO A HISTORY OF SOME OF HIS MIRACLES IN PART.

Gregory, the great subject of panegyric and ^B of rational contests, has long been seen set before the Church of Christ, but no one up to this point has dared the struggle; rather, they all stand together—logographers and rhetoricians alike, and that golden race of the wise, if one might call them so—forsaking speech and, because of the greatness of the subject, equally yielding, watching the tongue in silence, and, as it were, astounded by the voice. And with good reason: for if it were possible to grasp his thought and his words, and if nature provided the capacity for this, everyone would have attempted it from the very beginning, and no one of those living in words and Muses would have shrunk from the discourse; for so it would have been possible...

^A to light upon the images, and that [task] would have belonged to that mind and that tongue alone, and that word alone would have attained the target. But since he is not here, and the facts themselves do not offer such things, but rather recede, as I said, being equal for those capable of discourse, as far as it is possible to carry out such things, it is necessary to hold fast to friendship here, and to dare for the sake of the magnitude of the struggles, not seeking what is one's own, as the blessed Paul says, but believing and hoping all things, as the same says again.

Since I am, of almost all the rhetors and writers of our time, the one who brings the end to this, while at the same time—in the longing for him and in the list of friends—I refuse to give way to anyone regarding the preeminence, I would be just in stepping into the struggle before others; making a short speech about my own inadequacy and the defeat that follows for my words, but paying my debt as far as I am able from what is available. For I think that my words will somehow meet my hopes, whether I am able to say anything at all worthy of the subject, or whether the discourse follows after the facts. For to one who has shown goodwill, the hitting of the target will be added; and if I fail in worthiness, even if not both, at least the one will surely be present. And we shall show that we dare this, not for the sake of ambition or display of words, but for the sake of friendship alone and of what comes to be in accordance with it, and of things far beyond us, regarding not at all the applause and glory of others, if only the evidence of the goodwill toward him were preserved, just as I said before. Yet friendship will not, as one might think, judge the discourse, perhaps led into excesses; for it is not from us or from him to give in to such things, and among those who know, the discourse is judged, and almost all the hearers sit as judges of what is said, comparing the words to the facts, and demanding what is real with precision; such that, on ^B the contrary, we fear the opposite more: not the excess and the grasping of the discourse, but rather the deficiency and the slackness, and the inability to have pursued everything in a similar way. For this, it would be just for the discourse, before the others, to excuse itself to the fair-minded among the hearers, so as not to seek all of his things from this [discourse], nor to pursue them in an orderly and sequential manner for all to hear. For it is not possible, as neither the multitude nor the magnitude of the facts allows for this; but it will mention the more necessary things of the history of that wonderful life, and those that are more pressing, equally avoiding imbalance and brevity, as far as possible and according to my power, imitating him.

Therefore, for Gregory the Great, parents—like the great Job—well-born, [coming] from the sunrise, having held this greatest and most imperial city—I mean that of the wonderful Constantine—as their dwelling, there they are recorded as parents of sons and daughters alike, of whom the wonderful Gregory, being the first to enter [this life] according to birth, [revealed that] his life, first, not only in acts and words, but in the higher and things above the world, was such that not one person could in any way cede the prizes to him. ^C But concerning his fatherland, and he who had it as his own, it seems unnecessary for me to want to go into it with words now; for it suffices that this very city is called by all from above as the queen of all, and is such, and holds all under itself, and at once surpasses all in all things, both in magnitude and beauty and position, and in the blending of elements, and in the suitability of the climate, and in dry land and sea, and in being gifted from every place, from earth and sea, by Greeks and barbarians alike, and by every race at once. But the most excellent and superior of these things is that it is known from above as the mother and dwelling-place of wisdom and the Greeks, having brought together into itself all the ancient, much-vaunted Stoa and the Peripatetics and the Academies, along with piety. And it threw off atheism and myths and long follies, along with falsehood and sophistries, and frequent idle talk and deceit, into their Cynosarges; but with truth, and with the faith in the one, three-hypostases, almighty and pantokrator God, and with the cross and the simplicity of the Gospel, it adorned that wisdom, and showed it to be a grateful slave and handmaid of the true and primary wisdom.

Having been blessed with a fatherland thus admired by all, the wonderful Gregory had such parents according to the flesh, as such a one ought to have as the causes of his birth, or rather, whoever they were who brought such a one into life, it is clear from that. For when the second of the Palaeologoi, I mean Andronikos the Great, had seized the scepter of the empire at that time, one of the Senate was the father of the wise Gregory, and he was numbered among those in authority. So much of the excess of virtue ^D belonged to him, and what was conceded by all in such matters, that the emperor himself chose him as father and teacher of his grandson and the emperor, I mean in regard to virtue and the education of the soul and the correction of character. Yet, he himself, even though he was wise and sharp-witted in all things and shrewd, and ambitious to carry off the first prizes in such matters before all, was not ashamed to have him as a teacher of virtue, and a good counselor, and a mystagogue and guide of everything most beautiful. Indeed, when the emperor would at times use his temper too fiercely against his own people, and would be carried away into anger and threats and insults against them, all would be as if by a signal to step aside, and would give way to the strength and the temper, having cowered before the lion's roar, according to the saying. But he would enter [to him] while he was angry, with his usual composure and boldness, and would immediately prepare him to let go and moderate his anger, and remind him of the humble and...

nature of the human condition, of which he says he himself is clearly a part, even if he was brought by God to rule over his fellow men; and by means of evangelical and paternal admonitions, and indeed by his own wise suggestions, and by the incantations and remedies of his reasoning, he would quickly lead him back to himself. And he—far from being amazed at the man for his boldness, his disposition, and his natural inclination towards virtue—acknowledged the great favors, benevolence, and assistance, and readily deemed him worthy of the greatest honors and distinctions, preferring him in almost all things to those related to him by blood, because of the purity of his soul and his gaze which looked directly toward only that which is good and toward God. For to him, the object of his zeal and his ambition and his display of virtue was not words alone; rather, his words were deeds, and they were the fruit of detachment from riches, from gain, and from empty glory, and indeed from that admirable love for his neighbor. ^B

And so great was his vigilance of mind, and his turning toward himself and toward God through attentiveness and prayer, even though he was with the emperor, the senate, and such persons day by day, that not even those outside—and especially those who were sharp and intelligent—were ignorant of his state. For instance, when the emperor, while talking with him about current events as was his custom, would see him drifting into forgetfulness of what he (the emperor) was saying, and then asking about the same things again—which he actually bore with some impatience, as others in their conversations with him sometimes suffered, condemning them for simple-mindedness and lack of education—but Palamas, he would say, "Now, this is not due to any listlessness or lack of zeal for your words; rather, it is because of my zeal and vigilance for what is within, and for being, as it were, fastened to God in prayer." ^C For this reason, being revered by all, and having attached to himself all the rulers, judges, and powerful men, he was a protector of many oppressed men and women, and solved the troubles of most. Accordingly, when one of the emperor’s sons—the second in age, who also held the second place in imperial authority—had used his power wrongly against a certain poor man, and had deprived him of three hundred gold coins against all justice, the father of Gregory approached him, conversed with him, reminded him of God’s laws and how much He cares for justice, laws, and the protection of the poor and widows, and that like things, and persuaded him immediately. And the widow, having received her own back, readily brought half of the money, with much zeal and eagerness, to the one who had been the protector of this benefit. But he pre-empted her, saying, "You do not do well, nor do you repay the benefactor worthily, woman, by depriving yourself of the greatest things on the pretext of a small gift; for now, as you yourself clearly ^D know, it lies with me to prevail upon the rulers and powerful men, God fully assisting, and what could be better for those who have sense? If, as you yourself say, I should give in to them and become a slave to money, I will surely lose those things, and I would be condemning both God and those who are accustomed to give, and what could be worse than such folly? But depart, and enjoy your own property with authority alone, with no one troubling you anymore, while attributing the whole of the thanksgiving to God, and bestowing upon us only your prayers."

Not only toward money and possessions and the glory that is below—which is both mocked and mocks the many, as I have already mentioned—did this noble man demonstrate detachment, but even toward his dearest ones, and he excelled in overcoming natural compulsions and the powerful bonds resulting from them, and the ties of rivalry, by his love for Christ. Therefore, when asked by friends and relatives why he himself did not often cling to his young and infant children, and embrace them with hands and lips, and laugh and play with them according to the natural affection and the common custom of fathers: "I indeed wish for these things as well, friends," he would say, "the bond of affection and nature often urging me, but, fearing habit, lest the matter become a settled state for me, and I be affected by the loss of some of them in a very distressed and small-minded way, unworthy of God who gave them—for it is likely that some of one’s own children might die before one, our end being unclear and indefinite—I restrain myself from the great familiarity and affection toward the children, so that when the separation comes, by God's command, I might not be seen as entirely unprepared and unready, and perhaps more of a child-lover than a God-lover. For necessity dictates that with the magnitude of the love, the magnitude of the grief follows, and with the vehement and unchecked grief, there follows the danger of words and deeds of ingratitude, which one who truly wishes to live piously would not pray for." And the truthful, godly man indeed confirmed this with real deeds in the situation that arose. For when one of his children was seized by a severe illness and was approaching the end and that necessary deadline, before the passing he was much in prayer to God, using the greatest medicine of prayer for him, mentally and sensibly. But when he saw that he had ceased from life and was departing to the truly real life, he was immediately wholly given over to thanksgiving to God and to hymns, himself explicitly demonstrating the things that had been done long ago by the great David for his child who had died, and by his deeds demonstrating his own words, which I have already said, as he even ended up comforting the friends who had come for consolation, and teaching them what was fitting.

^A The source of all good things, the inexhaustible and unapproachable, has declared through one who spoke of God, that "No man has seen God at any time" (John 1:18); another, likewise adhering to the same divine proclamation, says, "Whom no man has seen, nor can see" (1 Tim 6:16). And furthermore, the one who was most powerful among the seers of God heard, "No man shall see my face, and live" (Exodus 33:20). But who has stood against the high-mindedness of the theologians like this? And why do I speak of these, if he has not even surpassed the supra-mundane powers, having abandoned the world and the body and having despised every material connection, and having transcended the things seen, so as to exist above creation and to look past the supra-celestial hierarchies, and to see God, and to understand what he is in his essence? And who is this other than Eusebius? He, who with pure eyes of the heart and untainted by any human or material affection, prides himself on being the only one to see the supra-substantial essence, which is invisible even to the Seraphim, blowing himself up ^B with empty hopes, and from his gross and carnal [nature] interprets the God-delivered oracles here in the same way; he who puts the form of a servant into the invisible and non-subsistent, who attributes a face to the divine nature, which he has been deceived into thinking he can behold with pure eyes. What evil and God-fighting tongue, sharpened toward impiety, has uttered such things—things which not even the inventor of sin, who was the first to act insolently against God, has dared? "He set his mouth against heaven, and his tongue went through upon the earth" (Ps 72:9), and "spoke iniquity into the height" (Ps 72:8).

^C But let the demented and deranged mind be driven far from God and the Christian philosophy of God; and since we have refuted the alien notion, let us ourselves ascend to the high ground of the divine promise, and let us discuss what the true word has to say concerning this, teaching us what it is for the "pure in heart" to see God (Matt 5:8). And let the voices of the teachers be set before us again, those who know how to speak the mysteries in the Spirit of God; and as far as possible, let us summarize in short the state of the thoughts spoken at greater length, having taken hold of those things more appropriate to the goal insofar as it is possible: that the divine nature, whatever it may be, is neither graspable by mind, nor expressible by word. For it is ungraspable and inexpressible and unattainable, and exists beyond all indefiniteness, and transcends all knowledge and conception. Toward which every intellectual ^D power comes to a halt, and every intellectual progress ceases. For there is neither word, nor knowledge, nor opinion, nor imagination of it. For it is inaccessible and unapproachable to all, and exists beyond all existing things, and is established supra-substantially above all things that are, and no word could reach it; for it is impossible to set foot upon things that are beyond word; silence represents it better than speech. To us, its existence is known only from the things concerning it, [reflecting] certain impressions and faint echoes, and these radiating forth only to those who have purified their mind. What then is it which the pure in heart shall see? It is the ultimate of all things desired, the highest peak of blessedness, the ineffable light, the unapproachable glory. How then can one behold the desired? God, who is invisible by nature, becomes visible from the divine energies and powers surrounding him, as many as lift our mind toward the high and exalted, and guide it toward the majesty of divine understanding; [these powers] do not reveal what the essence is, but show forth to us the greatness of his goodness. But it is not blessed merely to know something about God—for this has been attained by many even through the wisdom of the world—but it is blessed to have God within oneself, according to that which is proclaimed, that "The kingdom of God is within us" (Luke 17:21). For the measure of understanding that is capable of being contained by us is within us. For thus did God, who fashioned us from the beginning, imprint the characters and the likenesses of his own good things upon the structure of our nature. But wickedness, having entered in, obscured these and rendered them useless, having covered them with shameful veils. If, then, one should wash away through a diligent life the filth that has entered in through sin, and should purify the inner man—which the word calls the heart—the God-like beauty will shine forth again, and in the beauty itself one perceives the image of the divine nature. Just as the iron that has been dirtied, if its rust is scraped off and it is cleansed, gives off rays when it is turned toward the sun, so indeed the rusty filth, when you scrape away that which has blossomed forth on the form through evil love, will take back its likeness to the ancient [state], and it will be good. For to the good, the good is in every way similar. Therefore, seeing that in himself, he sees the desired. And thus the pure in heart becomes blessed, because, looking toward his own purity, he sees the archetype in the image. For just as those who look at the sun in mirrors, even if they do not gaze directly at the heavens, see it nonetheless in the brightness of the mirror, just as those who look at the solar orb do, so too the one who is sluggish toward the understanding of the unapproachable light, if he runs back to the grace of the image fashioned from the beginning, has within himself that which is sought. For purity and passionlessness and the alienation from every evil is deification. If, then, these are in him, God is in every way in him. When, therefore, the reasoning within him is pure of every evil and free of passion and separated from every defilement, he is blessed in his sharp-sightedness, because he has understood—having been cleansed—that which is invisible to those who are not pure, and with the mist of materiality removed from the eyes of the soul, he sees the blessed sight clearly in the pure clarity of the heart. And this is purity, sanctification, simplicity, all such light-like rays of the divine nature, through which God is seen. But how one becomes pure in heart, it is possible to learn through the evangelical teaching. These things being thus spoken, the [word] of truth...

^A regarding the weapons and armor: for the rudiments of grammar and the beginnings were still being fulfilled. He [Gregory] immediately strives for the protection and alliance of the wonderful patroness, the Lady of all, I say, showing that the words of the Father were not in vain, nor were certain men idle and inactive, but that unto his last breaths He was presiding over her, and setting her up as a manifold governess and administrator for his children. But she herself will steer and lead by the hand and guide well through all things, and will bring [him] to rest in good harbors at the last. For taking up the preliminary studies at a very young age, as I said, since he was somewhat troubled by the necessity of recitation, he sets a rule for himself not to touch the book and the reading before he should bow his knee to the ground three times before the sacred icon of the Mother of God with holy prayer. And this being done, the matters of the recitation of his lessons were arranged for him each day most easily and without hindrance. But if it happened anywhere that he overlooked the customary prayer and prostration, having been carried away by forgetfulness, the things of the recitation immediately went poorly; and the combatant [would be] empty, deprived of the weapons from thence and of the alliance, and liable to blows from the tutors and teachers. ^B Yet the Empress and protectress was so genuinely and compassionately disposed regarding him and the other children, as to deem them worthy of all other care as well, I mean of all kinds of expenses and rations from the imperial treasuries and funds, and of those things in which those enjoying the imperial favor share; and she kept calling them to herself frequently, and sharing [with them] observation and conversation, although they were indeed very young in age, as I said, possessing much kindness and philanthropy. And all those around the king and the palace, as many as were in high office, I say, and those of lower rank, seeing Gregory together with his brothers in the palace, spoke with very great affection: "These are the children of the saint!" So much were they possessed by reverence and affection toward the one who had begotten them and toward the children.

A short time after, Gregory perfectly mastered both grammar and rhetoric, so that he was admired by all, and I say by the very teachers and leaders of speech at that time, to an extreme degree in his speeches and writings. Such did he appear in natural and logical matters, and simply in all Aristotelian [studies], that even the man who at that time was especially admired by all for every kind of wisdom, and who was skillfully mediating in matters for the king and the public affairs of the Romans—I mean the Great Logothete—having set in motion discussions before the king regarding the logical treatise of Aristotle, ^C heard such things from his tongue, and was thus so exceedingly astonished by the young man that he could neither contain it to himself, nor could he hide the wonder, but immediately turned the speech with astonishment to the king, saying, "If Aristotle himself were present here as a listener to this man, he would have praised him not moderately, as I believe." "I, however," he says, "stated that very thing meanwhile, that such ought to be the souls and natures of those who are involved in discourses, and especially of those things which were philosophized and written by this Aristotle." Because of these things, the king, too, was as it were glorying in the noble youth, and was simultaneously imagining and desiring great things concerning him.

But he, looking toward the King above and the kingdom and the incorruptible and ageless senate, and becoming entirely intent upon the aim of those matters and that goal, ^D was making little account of all other things put together, or rather he did not even deem them worthy of care or speech, [saying] gradually those words: "My portion art Thou, O Lord, I have said, that I might keep Thy law" (Ps. CXVII, 57), saying this himself with the Prophet; and, "Guide me in the path of Thy commandments, for I have desired it" (ibid. 35); and, "Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity; quicken Thou me in Thy way" (ibid. 37), and things similar to these. Because of this, he also submitted himself to the monks rather than to the earnest Fathers and teachers of virtue, and especially to those superior and more earnest ones who come down from the holy Mount Athos, who indeed were telling him that the straight and evangelical way was difficult and arduous for him, and that the light yoke of the Lord would appear hard and heavy, to one moving thus in the midst of the world at all times and subject with all zeal to the world-ruler, and while living for those things, yet dead to those others, and dragging down daily those who are with him, unless they happen to be very earnest and sober. Whence they also advised [him] that the best and safest thing primarily was to depart both from the house and the city, and lightly to take up his own cross, and behind the Christ who had called [him], according to the word of that [teacher], to walk immediately toward the wilderness and the sacred mountain. "For thus it will be possible for you," he says, "not to fail of the purpose and the initial resolve: having departed from the people and things that hinder, and being well joined to those who are able to assist. But if the sudden change and transition to those places is somewhat difficult, due perhaps to certain preconceived causes, nevertheless you must take up in all things meanwhile lowliness and bodily indifference and a harsh regimen before other things, and thus lay most beautifully the beginnings and foundations of the house of virtue, with God, naturally, assisting. For those things," he says, "are by nature as it were roots and causes of that wonderful—I mean—humility and temperance and purity, and of the sanctification of soul and body alike, of the good...

^A of the foundations and beginnings of all virtue. That man, truly taken by God, the great beacon of brotherly love, with the others, taught this to Gregory; and having moved from that holy silence and the community of the mountain of holiness, to the holy protection of the Church—so to speak—and having functioned as a father and a guide into the mysteries of the most excellent things, by acting as such from those on high, he—by whom he was also best instructed in holy vigilance and intellectual prayer—had brought him into the habit of it in a wonderful way, even while he was still living in the midst of the world’s tumults. But this was later.

Then, Gregory, hearing the advice of the fathers, was straightway like a winged thing, cutting through the air; or like fire; or like a thoroughbred horse running swiftly across the plain. For he practiced poverty—of clothing, of footwear, of bedding, and of all other conduct and diet—to such an extreme degree, they say, that he so to speak transformed and reshaped his whole manner of life and character, so that to some it often seemed that his mind was altered and he was deranged; and he was not even ashamed of this disrepute. Temperate, in any case, he had made himself in fasting and watching to such a degree that he not only cast aside with the greatest zeal the pleasures of food and those things to which he had previously been most attached, but further, even the sleep that comes with the evening hours—which is both natural and necessary for the constitution of nature, and which he had formerly valued highly—he restricted, even to a very narrow and harsh table, fulfilling what was essentially necessary with only a tiny bit of bread and water. ^B Therefore, he was already above nature, for the One who is above nature was graciously assisting him, and this noble man bravely mastered the weightiest appetites and passions, and in the prime of his life had overcome even fleshly desire itself and the uprising that comes from it, even in the midst of the world and the materials that fuel those things, and that ignite them like a flame, such that he seemed in a way to be superhuman.

And wisely conjecturing about the future and prophesying most truthfully, he said that some great and wonderful man was about to depart from among us, even while remaining in the world; since, however, he yearned for the things that are better, he is now passing over to them well, and before long he will be, in truth, a great and wonderful man even to them.

Gregory, having now passed the age of youth, and hastening toward the withdrawal of which I have spoken, did not consider the good to be his own alone, nor—according to the divine Apostle—did he seek only his own, but also that of others. At any rate, having first converted all those in his house—both men and women—to the worldly withdrawal and to divine philosophy, and having also detached from the rotation of the world and from the whole of it those who were closer to him by birth, and indeed those servants who were more sensible and intelligent, and having well placed and enrolled them in the monasteries there, he set out from his house and native land with these good beginnings and with those who had been won over to the ways of virtue, for the wonderful trade of greater and supernatural things, having taken with him only his male brothers—and there were two of these.

They set out from Constantinople, the autumn already fading, looking toward holy Athos and the settlement there. Passing through Thrace and having arrived at Papikion—and this is an ancient holy mountain lying between Thrace and Macedonia, and at that time set aside for wonderful and zealous monks who were well-versed in divine philosophy—they decided to winter with them. But it was in fact a work of higher providence, that he was pointing out the wise Gregory, and the divine grace shadowing him, to those men as well, and by him was guiding many to true knowledge of God in the best way, as the story will show as it proceeds. ^C For to those who were philosophizing there on the monastic life, living and philosophizing together with his brothers, he appeared truly great and wonderful in word and character and appearance and gait and attention and contemplation, and simply in all the things by which a man of God is naturally painted and characterized, so as to strike even those who saw him with wonder, exhibiting—even in a budding and youthful body—a truly monastic and philosophical mind, and action, and thought. And those who were encamped on the mountain neighboring them, who from their ancestors had long suffered from the disease of the Marcianists or Messalians, became no ignoble trophy of Gregory's wonderful tongue. For as soon as they perceived that this man had come to the mountain and to the tents of the monks, they first went out to him, two or three at a time, for the sake of conversation and to put him to the test. And when they realized that they were unable to cast even the slightest shadow of their argument upon him, they retreated to themselves again, attributing to themselves an inability in their discussion and in the saving word, and to their own teachers the ^D and because he bears this separation unendurably; at the same time he was

The Editor's Monition

^A regarding the dialectical power and the strength of speech concerning God, and the dogmatic precision, testifying because of the perplexity, even saying that one could not oneself, as he says, ever even for a little while come into the presence of and into conversation with them. But Gregory, having become full of the Spirit, and having most excellently shown zeal for the word slandered concerning God, did not refuse even the path that leads to them, but having taken one of the brothers with him, he hastened to go up to them. What sort of things, therefore, and how many he discussed with the leaders and teachers of the heresy, having engaged in dialogue and communed with the divine Spirit, and how he dissolved the problems and questions of those men like spiders' webs without effort, all at once, turning the struggles of the combat back upon them in every way, showing that they were saying nothing sound at all, and that they were raving and fabricating in vain things that do not exist against the Church—to speak of this in order would not be for the present time and discourse, being a work of greater history; but it is necessary for now to mention one of those things, and thus, as they say, to demonstrate the whole from a part.

^B The originators and teachers of this heresy of the Messalians thought that the prayer given explicitly by Christ himself to the disciples who asked him long ago was the only one befitting Christians, and that we in vain string together all other prayers and psalms, as not being of that one sort in accordance with their mindset, nor belonging to divine ordinances; wherefore, having legislated it as the only one for the Church according to them, they forbade every other. This, therefore, Gregory at that time, along with other things against our Church, brought forward as if it were something great and powerful, and they said outright that the whole [Church] was breaking the law, transgressing divine laws and oracles which it is not permitted to cross without fear. But Gregory, that athlete and friend of holy prayer, taking up the argument on its behalf here, said: "But if we also, as you slanderously say, reject the things of that holy and dominical prayer, then you would have to say immediately, as I suppose, that those holy disciples of Christ, who were the first to ask about it and were taught it by Christ himself, had transgressed his tradition and teaching. Or what do you say concerning them?" When those who had spoken all at once replied that the first disciples and apostles were the natural guards and fulfillers of Christ's commandment, and had kept that prayer and had likewise transmitted the same in the Gospels to those who followed, but that you yourselves have introduced the rejection of the tradition as your own; the divine Gregory, taking it up again, said: "And how, then, do you say that they, after the departure of Christ to the heavens and indeed after the advent and manifestation of the Paraclete to them, since they were being driven from Jerusalem by the god-killing Jews on account of the Gospel and the proclamation, ^C as the divine Luke narrates in the Acts, did not pray the petitions of that prayer, but rather others that were most appropriate to the time and the need? And how did they thus become successful in prayer, and in what they were promising, so that God even signaled from above immediately, by an earthquake of the place where they were praying, and by the presence of the Holy Spirit confirming the prayer? For, he says, when they had prayed, the place where they were gathered was shaken, and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God with boldness. ^D And how did the tax collector, according to the word of Christ, although he did not pray the same prayer to God but asked for and said other things, go down justified over the Pharisee? So one who has understanding must perceive and gather from the teaching of Christ that he did not enclose the whole of prayer within those words alone, but rather, having given a pattern of prayer to the faithful through that one, he mystically taught this: that even when praying, chanting, asking, and blessing him at all times, according to the divine David, and bearing his praise in the mouth at all times, one must cling to the mind everywhere and to the goal of those divine words, and in no way depart from them. And behold the precision of the teaching: for he did not say, when delivering the prayer to the apostles, clearly, 'These are the words, and pray only these phrases,' but how? 'Thus,' he says, 'pray you,' clearly according to this goal and this pattern which I now indicate; cutting a certain rule and standard, as it were, of how one must approach God and pray, which they themselves had also previously asked for: 'For teach us,' he says, 'to pray, just as John also taught his own disciples.' These then, the first disciples and apostles of Christ, having first learned from Christ himself, both used the rule of prayer most excellently and as is according to reason, and taught us, their disciples, what they were well taught; which we indeed, in accordance with them, practice both in common and privately, leading back to this rule and this first prayer everything that we might say while praying and chanting, and praying in this manner at all times and in every place, according to his own word and teaching: 'For thus,' he says, 'pray you.' And what he went through concerning the cross of Christ, and our salvation and restoration from it against the enemies of this cross, and how the pattern of the cross was active from above in the Fathers and prophets, and mystically perfected them too, being a mystery of the divine economy manifest to them later in deeds—it is possible even now to hear about this, as the wise and theological tongue expounds it most excellently and on the highest level, in those things where he speaks clearly concerning the

^A venerable Cross. By these and similar things, he struck them with such excessive astonishment, and as it were stitched up their mouths, and checked their long-winded babbling, that he returns from there like a most excellent victor and general with brilliant trophies. For the leader of the heresy, having taken into his mind the words of Gregory from that time, and having learned the truth of those things and that they were clearly inspired by God, both he himself and many of the not-insignificant portion of the multitude, having arrived in Constantinople a little later, approach the great Church of the faithful and, having abjured their ancestral error, become themselves a part of the holy council among us. And these were, as it were, the entrances and preludes for Gregory to his holy retreat and stillness, foretelling his greatest struggles for piety and his final trophies.

A miracle of no small account, even for the monks dwelling on the Mountain, he left behind upon returning from there, because he was able to escape the hands and the plots of those wild beasts—being so numerous and so great—and because he stood firm alone against the opposition of the heresy and such chatter, not only holding out but also clearly overcoming and routing them, strengthened by the grace of Christ, while those who had many times both secretly and openly attacked those who spoke against them—for they had indeed secretly tried to lay hands on both him and his brother—appeared as a wolf gaping in vain, as the divine hand and power were invisibly fighting for its own. And furthermore, while he was still among those barbarians, and Gregory was speaking—as I have already said—since after the dissolution of the assembly they were heading home, those deceivers and bloodthirsty men seemed to be sending some food to those with Gregory for their sustenance and table. But the truth was that it carried hidden death, which did not escape Gregory, but, having understood the secret mischief by an obvious divine Spirit, he receives it, but advises none of them to touch it or partake of it in any way. And when this had happened according to his will, since one of those with him, having as it were made a trial of the matter, threw that bread to the dogs before the door, and one of the little dogs having eaten some of it, immediately appeared dead—at that point the keen-sightedness of the man became manifest to all the others, and the fact that since the table of the murderers was full of poisons and death, he had rightly warded off all those with him from partaking.

Learning these things, those God-beloved men were astonished all the more, having added much to their former wonder, and being even more struck by Gregory, they were of all sorts—both in deeds and words and in everything that could hold the man with them and enjoy his wisdom and virtue—to an extent that was, for him, already far from his purpose and almost impossible, as he was now looking from afar, as I have said before, to the most beautiful Athos and its graces.

^B Leaving the Mountain with the two brothers, he departs to the desired Athos, and arriving at the Lavra of Vatopedi, he resorts to the courageous Nicodemus, a man wonderful both in action and contemplation—as all who dwell on Athos, save a few, know—who had previously, on the hill of Auxentius, which lies opposite Byzantium towards the east in Chrysopolis across the edge of the Propontis, exercised every path of virtue to the peak, and having later come to that of Vatopedi, had continued these same struggles of virtue with equal zeal and eagerness to the greatest degree, where he also attained the wonderful and blessed end in a blessed manner for Christ. To him, therefore, the good Gregory having duly approached, while he was dwelling somewhere near in stillness, he is tonsured by him, and gives himself over completely to obedience.

But as to what sort of man the wonderful one was immediately after the pact and the renunciation—in word, in deed, and in the contemplations of the mind—is clear from what follows. His second year had already been spent in fasting, vigil, total sobriety, and incessant prayer, hastening toward God night and day, putting the Mother of God as a guide and protector and intercessor before his eyes—as many hours as were in the day—both in words and prayers and in mental movements, and under her guidance, finishing the race of obedience. While he was once quiet in seclusion, and attending to himself and to God in stillness, a certain divine man, in reality and not in a dream, stands suddenly before his eyes, he whom the chief of the evangelists says is John, the son of thunder, the special disciple and friend of Christ: he, having cast his gaze upon him cheerfully, “I come to you,” he says, “as a messenger from the Mistress of all the saints, as you see, to ask for what cause, night and day, for almost all the hours, you do not cease crying out thus: ‘Shine upon my darkness, shine upon my darkness’? For we, too, must necessarily use those very same holy words here.” And when he answered, “And what else, as a man subject to passions and full of sins, could I ask of God when praying, than to be pitied and to be enlightened, so as to know and to do ^D His saving will?” “But do not fear,” says the beloved disciple of Christ again, “nor doubt, for her who is the Mistress of all commands it through us; for she and I will be your helper.” And when Gregory asked the mystagogue again, “And where will the supports of this alliance be for me from the Mother of my Lord, in the present or in the future?” The evangelist of the great and high things says, “Both of old and now, in the present, most gracefully and sweetly, and in the future.” And he, having thus fared and having been fulfilled ineffably by that divine utterance and by the great gifts of the Theotokos, disappeared; but as for the good disciple and fellow-dweller and zealot of that way of life, in so far as it was possible, and of the…

great struggles for piety at a later time, ^A together with my fellow-contestant Dorotheus, after a certain number of years, I used to recount these things with many tears, adding these things to those: that even in my father’s house, he says, and in the school of learning, and indeed even in the imperial palace, before the schooling and the departure from all things, while I was living there, a marvelous faith and devotion and hope towards the Virgin and Mother of God was present with me, accompanied by a certain fervent love. Whence also, as each day began, this was more urgent for me than any work or any word: namely, having stood before that holy icon, I say, to recite that holy and, in words and deeds, great prayer, with the greatest possible compunction and contrition of heart—that prayer, I mean, which is full of confession and repentance and supplication at once, ^B which bears the sources and the brilliant preludes of that wonderful Egyptian [saint].

The noble man, then, prevailed over all things—I do not mean only the irrational passions and appetites, but already also over their natural and necessary abundance, ^C striving with the body, as it were, to exist outside the body. And as for sleep, he so far overcame it and the need for it at that time, they say, that for three whole months he passed all his nights sleepless, as if someone bodiless, participating only in a little sleep after his meal at midday each day, so that, I believe, his brain did not suffer anything irreparable, having been turned from its natural state due to dryness. But the love of stillness and seclusion did not allow Gregory to remain there to the end; whence, having left the Laura and everything there after the third year, as I said, he hastened with speed to the desert he loved, causing unbearable sorrow to those from whom he departed, and equal joy to those to whom he came.

And so, his beloved stillness held him, and that holy place of the anchorites—that which they call Glossia in the local tongue. ^D He also possessed that which he had long desired, together with those who lived in the same way and friends and fellow-students, of whom, as it were, Gregory—that great one—was the leader and head. He, too, had the origins of his race from Byzantium, and was a great and renowned man, having distinguished himself in stillness and watchfulness and contemplation at that time, and having been admired exceedingly not only by those there, but also, far more later on, by those in his homeland who philosophized on divine things, where, having also received the end of this temporal life and having passed to the unceasing one, he was worthily attested to by God, who glorified his bones and his ashes supernaturally; he who, they say, also made this namesake and fellow-dweller, having been with him for a sufficient time then, to philosophize on and to co-philosophize on the most noble and loftiest matters of intellectual energy and of the greatest and first contemplation of God, which that wise man had attained, having reached them through time and zeal and experience and the company of God-bearing men.

The third year for Gregory after his renunciation was complete, and Nicodemus, the guide and father, full of days of both divine and human things, auspiciously and blessed, truly departed to the Lord. He, having departed from there, straightway moved to the great Laura—I mean that of Athanasius the Great—and having been deemed worthy there of hospitality and reception by the fathers he loved and was accustomed to, or rather, to speak truly, having attained even more than the ancestral customs and the habit of that place, since all things had already been occupied by his reputation and they had long since been thinking the likely things about him, he remains among them, and dwells with them for three whole years, and is admired there, worthily, of his conduct and philosophy, having demonstrated an experience far greater than his reputation, and his words following behind his deeds as much as possible. For having been entrusted by the superior of the Laura, as was their custom for such a man, to look after the common table of the brethren, and indeed to stand with those chanting in the church and to sing along with the divine, he was seen by those who were with him as a wonder in all things, and he led all—both old and young, and social and anchoritic, and wise and simple—to astonishment. For he was not one who applied himself to some virtues while slighting others; nor had he reached the acme of one while barely touching another with the tips of his fingers; nor did he honor the general and universal ones the most while slighting the particular ones according to some; but thus he strove to accomplish both deed and word, both the general and the particular, and all things, in common and with excess, so that, if one might say so, his soul was a meeting place and residence of every good thing, leading everyone with wonder and turning all souls toward itself. What, then, could one say regarding the grace of his character and conversation? And of his mindset, which was in wisdom and strength, so great as to have subjected his words and yet be moderate; which was to those who met him like a cataract, as it were, for compunction?

But what Gregory, the fellow-contestant and friend proposed to me, accomplished there alone with himself and with God through stillness—neither is it easy nor is it simple for anyone of all men to recount everything in order; for how could he, through the excess of his humility, not have hidden from view even the most terrible things of those working evil and doing wickedness, concealing his own excellence, and with the resulting zeal always bringing forth the work of righteousness, according to the word of Christ, in secret to Him who sees in secret, [and] the unceasing prayer of the mind in the Spirit and worship? But those things which Gregory, the one proposed to me as a fellow-contestant and friend, revealed regarding him—for it was not possible for that man to escape notice through all these things. For the wise Gregory, he says, being alone there with God, was accounted worthy of many and great hidden gifts and graces, which, who could recount in order, one by one, to the public?

^A And the things that were manifest and known to those outside, up to that time, were guided by ^B simple humility and that love which the divine Apostle says is unfeigned and from the heart; it is the first, the middle, and the last of virtues, the foundations and elements, and the perfecting factor of the entire philosophy and discipline according to Christ. If indeed his teaching to those near him and, as it were, his primary lesson—"Learn from me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls" [*]—and again, every commandment and divine law according to the word, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and your neighbor as yourself," are destined to be summarized and concluded in this way.

But the blessed Paul, who surpasses all others in the incomparable, transcendent gifts of the Spirit, further demonstrates this as the way, so that no testimony can be conceived of apart from that union and the help that comes from it; and love, he says, again, never fails, even with great confidence. Regarding compunction and tears, he says—if one must even speak of them—where he surpasses even compunction itself through charity, and mourning, according to the words of the God-bearing men regarding these things, it was noiselessly gushing forth from the eyes like the eternal springs of fountains, watering and joining together, they say, with the soul even for the body through the passage of divine bonds and the first fruits, which he had already said, and which remained with him in the same way for all the time of his life, as we all know of him, except for a few, even if the end of the deed, the word, and the miracle is not equally apparent to those living as they do, nor familiar to others, and only to those who know it, ^C I suppose, is it not disbelieved. But he did not enjoy this most excellent conduct and rest here for the full period he had intended. Two years had barely flowed by after the arrival of Gregory when the predatory and vilest of the Achaemenids began to attack the mountain constantly, driving and disturbing the monks who were living in quiet outside the walls, and nearly every day, sometimes with sudden raids, incursions, massacres, and captivities, and other times merely with the suspicions and the fear they caused, they cut off the beloved quiet. They were forced, even against their will, to move, obeying this custom of the divine law that commands one to flee those who pursue and not to meet the persecutors head-on. Having thus arrived at our Thessaloniki together with his friends and those of the same way of life—they were twelve in number altogether—they took counsel together, gathering in one place, and, having left Thessaloniki and Mount Athos and all that was there, they prepared to go straight to Jerusalem, and there to worship.

^B Since it seemed to all of them that they had deliberated well, and they now looked toward the departure and the journey, Gregory, the wise one, sought the vote from above and the divine approval, and he prayed that the result of the deliberations might come from there. Therefore, as he was occupied with quiet and was alone by himself regarding these very things, a vision appeared to him, and he seemed, as it were, to descend to a kind of sleep in the midst of prayer. He seemed, he says, to be with those brothers with whom he was concerned about the departure, to be standing in the courtyards of the palace; and the Emperor himself was present, and he was seated on the imperial throne in a most royal and lofty manner, and the bodyguards around him and the senate and the ranks were standing as was the custom. One of these, from among those there with the habit and the confidence—the one who appeared to possess the dignity of the Duke—seemed to have wrapped him/her arms around me and held me close, as if drawing me to himself. And turning to my companions, he said, "Behold this man, as you yourselves can see, I hold with me," the Emperor having so commanded. "But if it is your choice to leave, go; for there is no one who will stop you." Having been informed of these things ^C from God, as he had requested, and communicating them to his friends, Gregory and all of them decided together that they must stay there, and by no means leave the court and the surrounding regions of the great city of the great Thessaloniki, and citizen and protector and all-around guardian, I mean the one among the martyrs, the wonderful Demetrios; for they thought that it was he who was well served by those who were ministering in this new way to the divine and imperial commands, and that he was keeping Gregory kindly and genuinely, and through him the others, now for the quiet and seclusion that was being sought, and later for the presidency and the sacred authority and headship of the Church. Which indeed, after no long time, was destined by the wisdom and providence of the great God to be wondrously ordered, having already laid the foundations for the great affairs from afar.

^D There, the wonderful man receives the great and wonderful dignity of the priesthood, the company of those holy ones having joined in a request for it, and most especially because they were about to set sail for long journeys and toward some people who were altogether unknown; and those things were, as they had previously contemplated, imagined from afar. But since it was necessary for one so high and great in virtue to be led in all things by the greatest and highest, even though the mystagogue and the celebrant of the priesthood was altogether unknown to them, Gregory approaches God to inquire with reverence regarding these things that were proposed, and taking the aforementioned apostolic scroll into his hands, and having lifted it toward God,

^A he sought to become a faithful knower, as much as possible, of the divine will. Having unrolled it, therefore, and casting his eyes upon what was laid out, he at once encounters those things which the wise Paul, writing of old to the Galatians, used as the introduction of his discourse: “Paul an apostle,” he says, “not from men, nor through man, but through Jesus Christ and God the Father.” From that point, having grasped that what was occurring was not without divine insight nor divine inspiration, nor was it any mere human or earthly matter, he took his stand entirely upon those lofty and divine things. He received the divine and holy things divinely and holily, as I suppose would any of all men; he reverences Him who bestowed them, and he straightway strips himself for the greater contests on behalf of virtue, having come into a realization of the divine worth, and very wisely honoring, as a wise man, Him who had honored him—or rather, to put it more appropriately, magnifying the gift within himself, and lighting the lamp and the fire of the Spirit day by day. ^B

After his ordination and that divine oracle of which I spoke, he proceeded a little way from Thessalonica, and having arrived in the neighboring Beroea, he entered the mountain lying by it, and the skete of monastics then established there. There, surely, Gregory, having established a school of divine philosophy, with ten associates who were his equals in zeal and partners, filling up the most complete and perfect number, I say, of the heavenly and divine perfection—being himself indeed full of every good thing—he begins again to philosophize. For five days of each week he remained entirely inaccessible, receiving no one at all into conversation, but on Saturday and Sunday [he would come forth] both for the mystical sacrifice, as we call it, and to go out to the spiritual conversation and union of the brethren. His age at that time was thirty years, and he was still robust in body, no disease having yet attacked him even in the slightest; hence he took up much greater contests and a harsher regimen, wearing out his body with fasting and long vigil, and striving to subdue it completely to the spirit, with all manner of self-control and watchfulness, and with the habitual spring of tears, refining and cleansing the eye of his soul, and always leading it up to the familiar divine [state] through what I call the unceasing prayer of the mind, and the immediate communion and union according to the grace of God. From then on, the fruits of the Spirit, to speak apostolically, were burgeoning in him, and all—not only those with him, but also those who dwelt in that mountain out of longing for divine philosophy, and likewise those in the city—were viewing his manner of life and his discourse as some archetypal image of virtue, and they wondered at him as something strange and new, exceeding our own generation, and almost superhuman. ^C It was thought: for it struck them with wonder, along with the high quality of his deeds, and his discourse, and the truly novel and supernatural nature of his divine wisdom, and it was incomparable to any other. And what is there to say, when even by being silent, and merely being seen, O admirable man, you were producing wonder in the souls of those who saw you? At one time you were lost in thought, turned entirely toward yourself and God, and washed supernaturally by those new streams of tears; at another time bearing a face brighter than nature, as if from a furnace of fire, and fashioned and transformed by the fire of the Spirit, especially when you came forth from the mystical celebration of the holy rites, or from your cell and your stillness.

While he was in these and such-like states, she who was the most beautiful and truly beloved mother to Gregory departed from the things here below, and passed over to God with frequent steps of virtue. Letters from her daughters, the virgins being trained with her in Byzantium, immediately came to him, informing him both of the death of the common mother, and entreating him to come for their visitation and spiritual guidance. He is persuaded by the letters and the entreaty of the sisters, and having taken with him the deacons who possessed the ability to assist, he ascends to the city of Constantine, keeping both his brothers with him. He finds the sisters, having in no way lied about their ancestry, and he admires their virtue, praises their struggles, and the purity and precision of their life in all things. And having rendered to God the thanksgiving due on behalf of all, and having sufficiently initiated and exhorted them into the higher things, he proceeds to his return and the journey back for his seclusion. But these things were not in agreement with the sisters; for they insisted that he should stay there with the brothers, and teach and admonish them every day, and lead them worthily toward virtue and God, or that they should accompany them on their travels, and that it was entirely necessary to depart to the foreign land and the seclusion. He, having stated that it was impossible to remain in his homeland, and having judged that it was possible and profitable for the sisters to accompany them, takes them along with the brothers and returns to Beroea once more, and having settled them in the city, and having made preparations for them to hold to their customary regimen and exercise there, he himself returns up to the mountain and his ascetic hut.

^D The interval of time was short, and the elder of the sisters, Epicharis, leaving her body and her brothers along with all things here, passes over gloriously to God, invisibly crowned with virginal and ascetic gifts, and making the grace manifest not dimly, even to those without, by apostolic signs. For she clearly predicted her own death six days before, while she was still in good health of body, and she exhorted her brothers from the mountain

^A to be at peace, to be of one mind, and to have regard for one another, and she gave instructions concerning the burial. And indeed, as it had been revealed by the divine Spirit, six days later—as the great Gregory rightly foretold to his brother Makarios and again to those on Athos—the trial itself would befall him. It ended, however, in a result that was both admirable and full of profit. For when the prediction came to pass in his regard, he had not fallen into any suffering or loss of any kind whatever. He had indeed possessed, as a sort of shield for his youth, a harmony and common struggle for virtue, and a turning of his soul toward God in all things; and because of this, he had also achieved a disregard for lowliness and for all passing and corruptible things. Gregory the wise, ^B having heard of these things from his most noble mother, used to relate them to his own people later on; and because of the length of the narrative, the discourse has now passed over them—yet it is necessary to add at least what has been reported.

Many, indeed, of those who were then dwelling as neighbors on that mountain, and the elders among them who were advanced in age, testified to the character of him who was living there: his life was earnest, his disposition simple, and he was resplendent in kindness and goodness toward all. He lived nearby, a companion and a friend to Gregory, and a lover of those who were themselves lovers of virtue, often joining with them, and for the most part, binding them together with himself. He sat down once with the great man, and as a friend to a friend, he became ^C an imitator of his goodness: for having heard from one who was spoken of by the great man—since he had heard from others regarding those things—how he who is from Christ truly acknowledges all things, and that we must practice constant prayer according to the apostolic exhortation, "Pray without ceasing," 1 Thess. v, 17, he taught it to the common Church, and to the Prophet David, who says: "I foresaw the Lord always before my face," Ps. xv, 8, saying, indeed, as the great Gregory claims, that we must remember God, or rather, that we must breathe Him—as he himself says—addressing this same discourse to the believers. Well, then, may we likewise, persuaded by these predictions, not merely those who have separated themselves from the world and the monks, but men and women ^D and children, and the wise and the ignorant alike, all together learn these same things in the same way, and to this end, he led them with all haste. The old man, having heard this from the wise man, and knowing not what had befallen him, did not try to offer contradiction to things so evident and irrefutable, to those who maintained that they were such, and not merely common to the many. But when many other similar things had been spoken, the great man did not at all try to persuade the old man, nor to further debate the argument regarding these things, nor to continue the discussion with all haste, since they were separated from one another, departing to their own dwellings, and he who was by himself was used to both prayer and silence, ^A God having immediately from above provided guidance for what was said, clearly using him as a servant, teaching those who were ignorant and who were being educated, and honoring—or one might say, illuminating even more—those who were spoken to, along with Gregory, who also—as he himself said—was a bright attendant to the bright old man. "Do not, I say," he continues, "in any other way consider what has been briefly spoken to you; for so it is and so it holds, as the holy Gregory said." And he, for his part, not having failed to recognize the angelic and divine teaching and the manifestation, departed immediately with haste to the holy man, reporting what was heard in a divine manner, and gaining forgiveness for his previous lack of belief and his opposition, which he had obtained, and which was better than what he had desired for himself; for he was emulous of his ^B kindness and love; he was almost inseparable from that great man, and they were joined to one another by inseparable bonds of concord and love.

After a short time, also, as he was departing to Christ, and in his final breaths, the noble Job, having already become a regular companion and associate of Gregory, and having rendered thanks to God that he had been an intimate of Gregory, and that he had gained much from his great teaching, departed in that love.

It was the fifth year of the silence—as I have said—which he was spending here with the wise one, when the Illyrian nation, ^C making war on those regions, or rather, frequently attacking both mountains and plains and fields and all the settlements together, was both enslaving and plundering, and burning others with fire, and forcing them to migrate elsewhere, and again to come to the best of places, Mount Athos. Having reached it, and again at the great lavra of the most wonderful and again blessed Athanasius, rejoicing and rejoicing with the beloved Fathers and brothers, he no longer remained inside the lavra as he had done before, but rather, closer to it, in the monastery of the divine Sabbas, I say, fixing his seat and the tent of silence; approaching the lavra only a little, and mingling with the multitude, whenever he was invited by the Church for the sacred ritual, in the intervals, ^D calling the rest of the elders to adorn themselves and to glorify God with him; and likewise wanting for himself, in accordance with the love for such things and the aspirations of those men, to live in the utmost silence and alone in his solitude—not coming out for any conversation or viewing of anyone at all, so that he did not even endure to accept for himself the necessary provisions, I mean on Saturday and Sunday, when it was both for others a time of viewing and a time of approach.

As for his virtue, it was for all: in the body, it was…

^A divided and contemplative, and ^B practical—of which the sages who concern themselves with these things say it is, as it were, a gangway and a foundation. And while the one is easier and quickly arrives at the goal for the diligent, the contemplative is by nature more difficult and slow to arrive at the goal, or, to speak accurately, it does not possess a goal at all; for it is the nature of the mind—that is, the holy and purified mind of the god-like men—to be led up to God Himself and to be united with Him directly. Wherefore, he says, for those who reach this, it is a rest from all other divine contemplation; for it is impassable and infinite. For it has nothing, he says, nor indeed could it have anything, that is higher, not even the most philosophical and most traversing or most inquisitive mind; for this is the ultimate of all things desired, around which, as the great Dionysius said, even the most divine and exalted minds revolve in a circle, being united in the beginningless and endless illuminations of the Good and Beautiful.

Since these things are thus, the divine Gregory clearly appeared to have struggled and succeeded in practice, both before his leaving the world and after his taking the habit and withdrawing, so that he was already, so to speak, perfect from the very beginning, and was not ignobly contending with those who were great and diligent in these matters. And as time and his asceticism progressed, what need is there even to say how much he surpassed in every way those who strive for such things? And how he appeared as a wonderful example to those both near and far of extreme poverty and detachment from passions, and furthermore of fasting and humility, and of every kind of temperance, of withdrawal and mourning and silence, and of all such things together? Since contemplation was especially the goal set before him and for which he strove—and that contemplation which is above and surpassing all others, which the God-bearing men are accustomed to call the vision of God, and direct union, and illumination, and deification, and such like, through which or with which they progress well toward the highest love, and that which is according to the divine likeness, and indeed the high and unerring theology, through unceasing prayer, and mournful stillness, and humility, and mourning—let us consider how this true man of God fared regarding these most divine and exalted matters.

But as for the high theology and those who participate in it, let what has been said for the present abide, awaiting the proper place and time. But that one might perhaps easily admire the rest, even if not to its full worth, to go through each part and bring them as it were before the eyes of the hearers seems to me to be one of the impossible things; and for this reason, one must rather hear it from his own tongue as it unfolds these matters—neither from one who, like him, is ignorant of the thing and its nature, nor from one who is incapable of speaking or writing of them in the same way. The wise man, therefore, speaks thus, among many other things, regarding the leisure of the mind and what is born from it, and indeed regarding divine illumination, writing to the one who opposes this divine light:

^A ...When the mind rises above all sensible things and from the deluge of the turbulence surrounding them, and looks upon the inner man, first it puts aside the hideous mask that has adhered to it from its wandering below, and hastens to wash this off through mourning. Then, when it has removed this unsightly covering, it no longer allows the soul to be ignobly torn apart by diverse attachments, but enters without disturbance into the true inner chambers, and prays to the Father who is in secret according to the commandment, who also grants it, as the first gift, the mental peace that is capable of receiving the graces, by which it perfects the humility that is generative and connective of every virtue—not that which is easily concocted by whoever wishes it through paces and postures, but that which is witnessed to by the good and divine Spirit, which the Spirit creates in him by being renewed within the innermost depths. Indeed, in these, as if in a secure fortification of the paradise of the mind, the various trees of true virtue grow, and in the very center the holy kingdom of love is raised up. In the vestibule of these, the foretaste of the future age, the unutterable and inalienable joy, blooms; for poverty is the mother of freedom from care, and freedom from care is the mother of attentiveness and prayer, and these are mothers of mourning and tears, and these wipe away past prejudices. When these have been cast off, the path according to virtue is accomplished with ease, as the things that were set in the middle are removed, and a blameless conscience is acquired. These, in turn, beget a more perfect joy and the blessed laughter of the soul; then indeed the sorrowful tear is changed into something sweet, and the words of God become sweeter than honey to the throat and to the mouth; and the petition in prayer is converted into thanksgiving, and the meditation on divine testimonies is the exultation of the heart, conversing with unashamed hope, and, as it were, tasting in the way of a foretaste, and learning in part of the superabundant wealth of the goodness of God, according to him who says: "Taste and see that the Lord is good;" the exultation of the righteous, the joy of the upright, the delight of the humble, the consolation of those who mourn for Him. ^B What then? Are these the only fruits of the consolation? And are these alone the gifts of the holy betrothal? And does the Bridegroom of such souls in no way show Himself more purely to those who have been washed through blessed mourning, and who have been adorned through the virtues? By no means; for when every shameful passion has been driven away, and the mind—as the discourse has already shown—has turned itself toward itself and the other faculties of the soul, and has cultivated the soul with the complete tillage of the virtues, advancing toward what is more perfect, and arranging for itself still more practical ascents, and washing itself more fully as God assists, it does not merely wipe away the stains of the Evil One, but removes everything acquired, even if it be of a better portion and thought; when truly, because of these things, it is above intelligible matters and those that are not to be imagined...

^A for everywhere the divine light shines indeed, but it does not shine brightly everywhere. It is one, but it does not shine upon all in the same way, not even upon those divine things that are God-like and are clearly illuminated. For just as the light of the sun is one, but there are many rays, and not only many but also clearer and dimmer, according to the principle of the capacity for light-reception of those who receive it, in the same way, as if in a dim image in sensible things, so too is it brought about concerning the light that is above sensation; but there must also be added the will of Him who illuminates. Here, the mind that has been deemed worthy of that light, even towards the associated body, brings over many proofs of the divine beauty, mediating through divine grace and the density of the flesh, and imbuing it with the power of things impossible. Hence comes the god-like habit according to virtue, and that which is towards evil is entirely unmoved or difficult to move; hence, the word that explains the causes of existing things, and reveals from within, from purity, the mysteries of nature, through which the reasoning mind is raised to the apprehension of things above nature of those who listen faithfully, which the Father of the Word Himself has understood by divine touches. Hence, the other various miraculous powers, and the seeing through matters and foreseeing, and the talking about things happening somewhere far off as if before one's eyes. And what is the greatest, that the goal of those most blessed men does not even tend toward these things, but just as if someone were looking at a sun-ray and perceives the particles of air, even if this does not happen to be his goal; thus to them, who commune purely with the divine rays, the revelation of all things is added by nature, not only of things existing or things that have happened, but also of things that are to be hereafter. As a matter of truth, the knowledge of these things comes to them as a byproduct, according to the proportion of their purity. Rather, what is more important to them is the turning back and inclining of the mind toward itself, or rather—even if it is wonderful to say it—the turning toward the mind of all the powers of the soul, and the activity according to it and God, through which, being prepared toward the prototype, they are well-disposed, with that ancient and ineffable beauty of grace blooming upon them. ^B

Encomium of the Author by Philotheos of Constantinople

^A ...having laid aside, deaf and mute as is written, he might stand before God, at that time he possesses the report of matter, and the highest formation is fashioned in all freedom, since nothing from without is knocking at the doors, with the grace within restructuring [him] for the better, and illuminating the inward parts with ineffable and most paradoxical light, and bringing to perfection the inner man. ^B When the day has dawned, and the day-star has risen in our hearts, according to the chief among the apostles, the truly human [man] goes forth according to that prophetic saying to his work, and using the light as a way, he ascends or is led up to the eternal mountains. And of the super-celestial matters in this light, O the miracle! He becomes a beholder, not being separated—or rather being separated—from the matter that was conjoined at the beginning, as the way knows. For he does not ascend on the imaginative wings of the intellect, nor does he wander about everywhere like a blind man, neither on absent sensible things, nor on intelligible things that have ascended above accurate and indubitable apprehension, but he ascends in truth by the ineffable power of the Spirit, and with spiritual and ineffable perception he hears the ineffable words, and sees the things that are not to be seen, and becomes and is entirely of that miracle from then on; and even if he is absent from that light, he vies with the tireless ones in hymns, as if he had become another angel of God upon earth, and through himself has brought every kind of creation to Him, since he himself is in the participation of all things; and he partakes now of that which is above all things, so that the [image] of the icon may be accurate. Therefore, the divine Neilos says: "That the state of the mind is a height, similar in color to the heaven, to which the light of the Holy Trinity comes to be at the time of prayer." The holy Diadochos, wishing to join the beginning to the end, set it down in one principle, writing: "Two things are procured for us by the holy grace through baptism; of which one surpasses the other infinitely. For it renews us in the water, and brightens that which is according to the image, throwing off every wrinkle of our sin; the other awaits, so that it may work with us. Because when the mind begins to taste of the goodness of the all-holy Spirit with much sensation, then we ought to know that grace begins, as it were, to paint the 'according to the likeness' into the 'according to the image'; so that this sensation signifies that we are being formed according to the likeness, but we shall know the perfection of the likeness from the illumination." And again, "No one can acquire spiritual love unless he is illuminated in all fullness by the Holy Spirit; for if the mind does not perfectly enjoy the 'according to the likeness' through the divine light, it can indeed possess all other virtues, but it remains still devoid of perfect love." In like manner, we also hear the holy Isaac saying: "At the time of prayer, the graced mind sees its own purity similar to the heavenly color, which has been named by the assembly of Israel as the place of God, when He was seen by them on the mountain." And again, "Purity is a mind, on which... ^D Such things of that god-like and heavenly mind, and of the truly divine and wise tongue, concerning the holy school and stillness and divine illumination and deification; concerning which, who could ever think and speak in such a divine and exalted manner? And I say, even of those exalted ones who have reached [a level] in contemplation and experience and blessed suffering, having the knowledge of such things; as they are in agreement through all things with the writings and words of the God-bearing men, holding the irrefutable and sure [truth] in all; but that he, the great one, having suffered by practice and energy, and being well initiated into those divine and super-divine things, thus, when the need called, later in not a few times, he came to speak and write these things, and from that very fact [they are] known to those who have a mind; for such things could never be of human wisdom and log-

- ^A -ic, unless someone were to plentifully set the sparks against the rays of the sun, and the thunderings of heaven against the works of coppersmiths and woodcutters, or rather, against the final echoes of those sounds. Yet, through these few things currently being stated, it will be made clear, so that the tree may be known from the fruit according to the word of Christ, and from the branches the things of the root may be well understood.

It was the evening of the greatest and mystical Supper and of the sufferings of the Lord in the flesh. As that rite was being celebrated with magnificence, as is the custom in the Laura, Gregory was participating in the feast and the hymns along with those prominent among the others, joining in and acting together, and by his presence, one might say, adorning that assembly. But as is ^B wont to happen, some of those assembled, as if having a certain forgetfulness of the things being performed, and of those great and wondrous songs, and of the reason for which they had gathered, gave themselves over to mundane conversations, and this beyond measure and to excess—if indeed it is possible to speak of measure at all for such things. The man of God was naturally troubled at this; and since it did not seem appropriate to speak to them and interrupt the talk, he turned his mind away from them and from the hymnody, turning to himself as his custom was, and through himself to God. And immediately, a divine light shone upon him from above, and through those rays, having had the eyes of both his soul and body enlightened, he saw as if already present what was to happen after not a few years. For the blessed man who at that time was entrusted with the stewardship of the Laura was standing at his right hand—not appearing in the common and usual habit, but seemed to be invested as a high priest, and arrayed according to them, and in every way standing in a high-priestly manner. And this was later seen to be fulfilled in deed, when ten and one years had passed, the aforementioned Macarius, after the rule and guardianship of the Laura, having ascended the high-priestly throne of our Thessalonica, and there, along with the office, ending his life.

The divine Gregory prayed for him and for those with him, and the prayer was to the Virgin and Theotokos, his customary guide and savior, so that she might render the things of their conduct and way of life toward God unhindered, and the things of bodily necessity also ready and easy, so that they might not be forced, being in want of such things, to be occupied with their collection, neglecting those things which are spiritual and more necessary. So much for the prayer. But the Mistress of all, anticipating the prayer—one might say—by the abundance of her providence, immediately appears to him in reality, dressed so reverently and virgin-like, according to how even among us the accurate icons portray her. And turning to those who followed—and there seemed to be very many and of the ^C distinguished ones—“Of all,” she said, “the things necessary, you yourselves from now on become both stewards and distributors to Gregory and to those with him.” And she indeed, having in such a short time fulfilled that holy prayer and that gift, returned to herself; but from that time on, the holy Gregory said to us, the things of bodily necessity reached us without toil, wherever we happened to be staying.

Two years passed with the great man being in these things and dwelling in the aforementioned retreat; but the third being present, as he was once there by himself following his custom, and attending his mind to God through mental stillness and prayer, he seemed somehow to enter a certain shadow of sleep, and it immediately shows him such a vision. He seemed to be holding in his hands a vessel full of milk, and this, as if suddenly having begun to flow out and overflow the vessel; then it changed all at once into excellent and sweet-smelling wine, so lavishly did it pour over his garments and hands, so that these were soaked and filled with their proper fragrance; upon which, I feel even more delight, he says—how could you put it into words—and joy. A man of the manifest ones, standing by, full of light, “Why,” he says, “do you not distribute to others also of this divine drink that is so wondrously bubbling up, but allow it to be poured out in vain? Do you not know that this is a gift of God, and how it will not cease, bubbling and being given off in this way?” And as I was pleading my own weakness, both toward distributing and that those desiring such things were not even present now, “But even if,” that one says again, “those who worthily seek this are not present, yet you must do your own, and not neglect the distribution; for the accountability,” he said, “let the Master concede. For you know accurately, by all means, both the commandment and the talent, and the condemnation of the servant who was lazy in the trade, and did not work according to the master’s command.” Then that bright one, he says, seemed to leave; but I, having shaken off that shadow of sleep, sat there for the whole night and the greatest part of the day, being ^D completely and richly shone upon by the divine light.

These things the wondrous Gregory said later to his friend and student, I mean the holy Dorotheos, when he began to set forth speeches concerning the divine dogmas, judging this very thing to signify the change of that holy drink from milk into wine, that is, the transition of the word from the ethical and simple to the dogmatic and to that which has ascended on high. What follows? The wise man is persuaded by the divine oracles from that time forth, and having opened his mouth, intellectual along with the sensible, he begins to share with all abundantly of the Spirit drawn from above, uttering speeches directly from God; speeches which I believe not even one of all men would ever write down in words, even if he had ten tongues, and as many mouths and hands as were said by some, unless again this very man himself and his own divine and wise words

^A be lofty and inaccessible to the profound and the disdainful, yet indulgent to those who turn away from sin properly; or rather, he himself inspired in most of them repentance and conversion through his deeds and words daily, and by his own example drew all according to their capacity toward virtue. Those who have been delivered beyond all hope from the heaviest passions and long-standing bonds of sin, and from the varied activity and craftiness of the demons, by his teachings and prayers, know this well, and have themselves become a new example of repentance to all. And as for his constant and manifold exhortations and teachings, and that golden and untroubled stream of his speech; and his zeal and devotion regarding the divine temple, its ministers and chanters; and his mystical ^B celebrations of the supernatural and most lofty rites; and furthermore, the decorum around the holy altar, and the care and ascent of those who perform as priests, which he—even just by being seen—inspired in those who communicated with him in the performing of the divine and mystical rites: what need is there to speak? Seeing as even after that admirable oversight of his, and the man’s departure from there, they did not judge it right even to remain or dwell in that monastery at all! But some gave themselves over to stillness and withdrawal, others to a stricter obedience and asceticism, and others to the most desolate deserts, since the constant presence of the wise teacher and guide was no longer there for all to enjoy as they had desired. But I say this only to demonstrate the general situation.

It is necessary, however, to mention also a few of the details ^C here—two or three of the things which God, working wonders through him, brought about. There was a certain monk in this monastery of Esphigmenou—for that is how they address it, though I do not know whether it is from the resident, or from its location and community, or from somewhere else. There was, therefore, a certain God-fearing, inquisitive, and diligent man among those serving in the divine temple, Eudokimos by name. The common enemy, having cast a deception through inadvertence upon this man, who was intent upon noetic prayer and diligent in guarding his mind, displayed to him certain phantasms, images, and deceitful visions, and persuaded him that he should pay attention to these visions. Little by little, he led him astray from the proper path ^D and almost drove him out of his own mind, and alienated him completely from God, had not Gregory, with that divine wisdom of his and the medicines of the Spirit, been present. For the evil one had been anticipating this great medicine of the Spirit with his own machinations, as he thought, and had instructed Eudokimos most evilly in addition to other things, and persuaded him that while Gregory was indeed a great and admirable man in words, he was entirely ignorant and devoid of his own mystical contemplation and virtue; and that, for this reason, one should not pay attention to him at all, nor yield to him in such matters as if he were just anyone. But the wise man drove this delusion from that soul,

the labor, if there were any, to be able to manage the discourse, and according to his judgment to dispose of matters, and thus not to fail in what was incumbent; for it seems to me that it is more useful than other things, not to find what to say, but rather to decide what to omit in a timely manner, and not to seem to harm the whole through it.

^A Having once stood against the wickedness that had previously taken hold of the sophist, in many ways—now by sacred teachings and paternal laws and instructions, now by mystical prayers and tears, and in addition to these, by the common prayers and supplications on behalf of the ailing Church, of which he himself was the creator and curator—he drove all the demonic energy from that place, and not only made Eudocimus whole, but also—fittingly named—approved, through the great energy and grace of the Spirit.

There was a scarcity of oil for the monks; but the great man, having heard this from them and deeming the necessity of the situation, ordered them to bring him to the storehouse. Going in, therefore, and standing by the vessel of oil with faith, and having called upon God who alone is able to bring all things into existence out of non-existence in a supernatural way, and having marked it with his hand and the sign of the cross, he showed that vessel to the monks, just like a new Elijah, directly; for the pitcher of oil did not fail there, as it did not there, throughout the whole year, I say, even though it was being drawn from by the hand of the great man and the monks, both those within and those without, in abundance.

^B When he learned that the reason the olive trees were failing to produce fruit was the lack of oil, he went to the olive grove with the elders and the monks, and having arrived, he prayed, sealed the trees with the sign of the cross, and sanctified the entire place with holy prayers and supplications and the sprinkling of divine waters. Then, after having taught as is the custom what is sacred, and having especially admonished them to flee from spiritual barrenness—as it is more deserving of the axe and the fire, according to the word of the great Baptist and Forerunner—he returned to himself and the monastery. And the hour having arrived, O what a miracle! The plants, which for many years had not been strong, were seen to be fertile beyond all expectations and full of fruit. And so that the great power of Christ energizing through Gregory might be even more brightly displayed, those trees appeared to be more heavily laden with fruit wherever he had walked as he passed by, or stood while conversing with them, or sat beneath the shade.

But it would be time, then, to address in our discourse the struggle that he waged against the new heresies, and his great contests on behalf of divine grace, and his long-fought struggles and trials—as much as we are able; for these things are known to all and are everywhere proclaimed and circulated, to those near and far, to acquaintances and strangers, and the might of his teaching and his word and these sacred and divinely inspired writings have embraced them. Nevertheless, it is for us to take them up as much as is possible in our discourse and to bring forward more timely matters for remembrance; and may this also be from his guardianship and sacred alliance.

If it were possible, one might say, to manage the discourse and dispose of matters according to his judgment, so as not to fail in what is incumbent; for this itself seems to me more useful than other things: not to find what to say, but rather to decide what to omit in a timely manner, and not to seem to harm the whole through it.

^C The Great Lavra had the great Gregory once again, as he had quickly departed from that administration and monastery, and was going toward his beloved hesychasm and the monastery of the spirit, out of a love for seclusion and withdrawal; for his bodily condition, with God already assisting, was better, and the ailments of his liver were subsiding, and it did not drag him toward the medical treatments and the food that emptiness and withdrawal are not accustomed to provide, as had been the case earlier. But Barlaam from Calabria, having arrived for the first time then in the land of the Romans to the detriment of his own head, and indeed of those who were persuaded by him, and feigning both philosopher and monk—and before this, the things of the right faith and the concord of our Church—began to write dogmatically to his kinsmen the Latins, and to discourse logically concerning the procession of the divine Spirit, making it appear as though he were siding with the opinion of those among us who are theologians, and contending for the definition of the faith and the words of Christ. But the sophistry was rather ^D manifest against the Church, and a bait, according to the saying, for the simpler folk, covered over with the bronze of impiety.

But the pillar of theology, the mystic and mystagogue of the wisdom from above, I mean the divine Gregory, could not be deceived by such things; far from it. Rather, he took them up, examined them, judged them well, and showed the deceit fashioned in the writings to be clearly against the truth; for since the Latins, as we all know, introduce by all necessity two principles of divinity in the procession of the Spirit, Barlaam, while pretending to refute the absurdity, appeared in his own words to be healing evil with evil, in a certain way, even if he did not admit the absurdity in the same way as they. And he would set aside the logical proofs of the wise theologians against the heresies, and calling the wise men of the Greeks—I mean Plato and all those of that supposed council—divine and enlightened by God; but against the nonsensical words of such men against piety, the brave Gregory stood, worthy of himself and the truth on behalf of which is the argument, and having granted the strength to the one, and having clearly refuted the falsehood, he thus draws the opponent to himself for the first time, or rather begins to uncover the hidden deceit and hypocrisy of that man; and these become preliminary contests for Gregory, as it were, regarding the things to come, and the greatest trials and opposition on behalf of piety in the future.

A short while later, and regarding that of the cities

as Barlaam departed from Thessalonica, he began to act with the artifice and pretense of wickedness. For while approaching the simpler ones in a deceitful manner, he would answer their inquiries regarding the life of stillness and intellectual prayer and sobriety under the guise of humility, and having heard from them a few elementary and superficial things about intellectual prayer—since it was not his purpose to learn, but rather to act wickedly and to slander the subject before him—he acted like the shameless dogs, tearing apart and cutting up the sound doctrine, and then carrying its scattered parts and fragments in his teeth to cast them all at once upon their teachers and that divine knowledge, I mean the sacred practice of prayer and mystic contemplation. ^B He proceeded in this way, even shamelessly calling our original instructors and the initiated ones of the sacred rites heretics! But he, having been exposed in certain matters before the presiding head of the common Church of the faithful, disgraced, leaves Constantinople, and returns to Thessalonica, still clinging to the same things, and even more so against the monks and the stillness, or rather against their primary teachers, I mean the God-bearing Fathers; he was as if demonstrating this both by his words and his writings, and blaming them as being the most responsible for this error among the monks, contending against those who presided over them with a bold and audacious tongue. ^C When the great Gregory heard this at that time, as he was staying on Mount Athos and in the sacred Lavra in stillness—as I also previously mentioned—he spoke to the monks who were with him in a prophetic manner, saying: "I, having finished learning from our blessed Fathers, had arrived at the point where I foresaw that heresy would invade the Church of Christ and again in our own time; and I wish the prediction of those holy men had not come to pass in reality! For the source of all evil and the creator of such things did not find at any time anyone better or wiser for the purpose than this instrument." And this, indeed, shortly after, came to pass more visibly for those who saw it, as Acindynus, that most wickedly perished one, succeeded to the corruption of Barlaam, just as in the past Eunomius succeeded to that of Arius, or as Severus the Acephalous [succeeded to that] of Dioscorus and Eutyches. ^D Since Barlaam was pressing hard upon the monks in Thessalonica, both against them and against the sacred stillness, saying and writing similar things—and he had many who were persuaded by him to follow the ways of the world, and even some of the monks, those namely who were not nourished by the stillness, whom he lured with words of persuasion and sophistical thefts—those who were able to contend against these things with the sound doctrine of the truth, but who were nowhere among them able to clearly expose the wickedness and the heresy, deliberated by coming together in common. With the divine Isidore, naturally, presiding over the deliberations, and moving, and convening, and deliberating, and being zealous for these things before all others, since he even took the leading place among Gregory’s associates and friends, and was the first to enter into the trial of Barlaam’s wickedness, having tracked down the beginnings of his writings against us, they decided, therefore, to summon the wise Gregory to them from his retreat and the mountain, for he was able, by nature, by art, and by divine grace, to accomplish such things as if for the sake of the things one might also speak of, and to bring them to a worthy conclusion. They write, therefore, and with great earnestness beg the great man not to overlook their common request and petition, which was among the most necessary and primary things, and to reach out a hand to the cause of piety, now in danger if ever it was, and to stand as a champion for the common mother of all, the Church, which was being warred against. Gregory is persuaded by the words of those who were of the same character and soul, deeming it a time for both stillness and war, since, as the wise Solomon says, it is for every other matter as well. And having abandoned the desert and Athos—he who was willing, and yet willing again, chose on the one hand to remain in stillness and to have no trouble, but on the other hand, due to the necessity of the things mentioned, and because they were of such great import, he stands ready and most welcome to those who desired it. And having demonstrated some parts of Barlaam's writings against the truth, insofar as they had come to hand for them for the time being, and having stated the facts about him as they were, they entreated him to defend them and the common Church of Christ. One might say how the divine Gregory’s heart ached and his soul was wounded, seeing the present affairs, and by the wisdom and grace of the Spirit not dimly foreseeing the things to come. For this reason, he felt compelled to abandon the struggle and the stillness to use counter-arguments, hesitating and drawing back; yet he was great and manifold, revealing himself through notices and words and friends, and through everything capable and suited by nature to call forth Barlaam to the concord of the whole Church. But he, having already become wholly possessed by the demon that stirred him, and giving his mind to it, was entirely unable to perceive the spiritual things; wherefore he applied himself from day to day even more to blasphemy and strife, and kindled the fire as it was, and did not perceive that he was stirring a lion to battle. But that admirable soul, and one truly philosophic—I mean the great Gregory—not even so does he easily despair of his correction and change; but since he saw that the frequent discourses through friends and the counsels were of no effect, he himself tries the final thing and counsels, with many good men present at the discourses

^A moving every stone, as the saying goes; although indeed he was doing no injury whatever to the common interest—for no one could ever prove that—nor was he attacking you and yours privately; for how could he? Since he was one who rather always gave praise to your affairs, as I have already stated, but was looking rather toward certain others, and was using words and writings privately against them. And this was Barlaam’s manner of acting, together with his customary hypocrisy and falsehood. But what did the friend and disciple of the truth reply in return to those things said by him, in the presence of many friends common to them both? See how that fine tongue of his, speaking marvelously, once again hears the response: "It is not at all useful, nor good," he says, "but rather, quite harmful to everyone, to seek in words the things that are beyond words, and to cast what is mystical before the crowd, ^B and to deliver these things to the ears and minds of youths, and to stir up the mixed multitude against the monks, and to offer to the Church of Christ, which is now at peace more than ever before concerning the confession of the faith, opportunities for no small confusion. This, I think, will bring blame upon you and will stir up hatred on the part of all, and these will be a bearable temptation, as I am fully convinced, just as I told you earlier; for I pass over the unseen harm that now extends to the soul. But as for you saying that your insults and writings are against others and not against me, since we all have piety as one and the same common mother, how is it possible for one to be at peace while someone is being insulted regarding her? Unless perhaps he, being contemptuous of the glory of God ^C and seeking his own glory in every way, is always hastening to speak against someone, even if the discourse is on behalf of piety, so that he may not stir up others and those who oppose him against himself. I, for one, know most accurately that many will blame me and revile me, and others will say other things against me, each according to his own goal or knowledge, and you yourself, who have stirred up the matter, will hasten to cast out my name as evil, but I do not care about such things; for I know and am fully persuaded by the grace of Christ that my struggle and exertion is for the truth in God. And I would rather be insulted together with those suffering these things, the brothers who are poor and lowly for the sake of God, ^D than to have the fleeting good repute and enjoyment of human glory; better is the reproach of those living according to Christ than all the treasures of the whole world." Nine, then, are all the discourses of mine composed at that time against the false arguments and the twisted opinion of Barlaam—or rather, more appropriately to say, for the truth according to piety and its foster-children—divided into three triads. They are not, however, all published in the same way or on the same matters throughout; for else they would not have been divided into numbers and order in this way; but they all stand together in defense of holy hesychasm, and as if toward a goal, they all [look upon] this [same object].

^A And, indeed, they check with great boldness their premises and their conclusions as well, and the swarm of absurdities resulting therefrom, while teaching, yet again in lofty and truly divine fashion, regarding deification and divine light those who are able to listen to them faithfully and understand. To these, indeed, Christ himself long ago, calling them to hear divine and lofty things, said:

"He who has ears to hear, let him hear."

"He who is able to receive it, let him receive it."

"By hearing you shall hear, and shall not understand,"

"seeing you shall see, and shall not perceive."

^B But if Barlaam, having returned from his embassy, should come to a knowledge of what was said by the Great One against his own discourses and heresy, and should become worthy, he would transform and amend most of his own discourses, fleeing the refutations and his own unsteadiness; yet he rather falls from one precipice into another, and into a pit. For the things of falsehood are always shifting, never standing in the middle or in the truth, but rather coming from the precipices on either side. And against the Messalians he later writes for the sake of the many, which also [serves] more for the research and inquiry of those who [seek] the destroyer of falsehood yet again—I mean the wise Gregory—who, having provoked him and having been engaged and entangled [with him] a second time both logically and spiritually, does this [again], and exerts himself to turn [the battle] to a complete rout, and to raise the trophy in complete victory over them, by bringing forth the last three [treatises] as if from another beginning, against the second [treatises] of Barlaam.

But what would one say, O divine and holy head, concerning these your holy discourses? For these, too, would be called holy discourses properly; or rather, all those that discourse in like manner about divine and holy things are holy, but these are not just holy according to them, but might justly be called holy of holies, just as there are certain holies of holies, and a song of songs, as one of the lofty theologians says, for they are more comprehensive and more authoritative. What, then, could we say regarding these most holy discourses of yours? And how shall we describe them in a discourse? This would perhaps be curious, and in a way superfluous, as well as impossible, and indeed outside the goal and the occasion; rather, we shall send those who thirst for such things to those very discourses themselves, and to the fountain of immortality gushing forth from there, so that they may open the mouth of their understanding and draw from there, or, to use the words of that same theologian again, as much as they are purified, they will imagine, and as much as they imagine, they will love, and as much as they love, they will understand, even if some, again, are indignant at the Godhead and the deifying grace, struggling against it. But we shall only add this to what has been said: that while many great men, at different times and for different reasons, spoke and philosophized loftily about such things by the Divine Spirit—and some gave themselves to one part, some to another, some to a few, and most to the discourse—yet, of all who have passed through the same [matters] before us and of the ancient ones, not one was able to go through [them all]; ^C this one alone, out of all and after all, ^D was seen to have gathered the admirable things of all into one, and to have explained and written them down brilliantly and with much knowledge and liberty; and furthermore, to have combined in an inexplicable way the things known through experience, and as it were to have clarified and unfolded what they had said only in summary and in brief, at a glance. And no one at all would say that these are not the discourses of the Divine Spirit, unless he were totally devoid of the Spirit, for they were spoken through means surpassing human capacity; for they are of the mind of Christ and are Spirit, speaking in a new way and beyond the reason of human understanding and tongue.

^A And the mind is stunned and cast out of itself, while the human being is suddenly transported from the earth, and it makes him suffer a new and ineffable experience, yet he does not know with certainty what he is suffering, or even if he knows, he is not naturally equipped to express it. And, more novel still, he is unable to depart from that sacred possession and divine madness, nor easily withdraw from that communion and contemplation of those realities. Rather, even if one who has been captured by them is separated for a little while by the necessity of the body, he very quickly returns to the same things with great longing, and seems to commune with new things again as if from another beginning, arriving at things to which he had not previously come in communion and knowledge. And the same things always occur concerning the same things, and he traverses a certain circular path in an inextricable way, and satiety nowhere appears, and the longing intensifies day by day. And he rejoices and his soul is lifted up by the length, the intensity, and the course of the Word, yet he feels pain and is somehow distressed that such things at some time come to an end, and not rather that they should be in a way unfinished and eternal, attaining to that very measure and standard, and extending along with the insatiable nature of their longing; so great are they. ^B And these things of the God-bearing teachers, some are suitable for those who are beginners in contemplation, while others are for those who are perfect and proven in it. And you would not find the same things naturally suited to everyone, but they are divided with great care in word and mind, and simply to all. But the things of this friend and companion and fellow-struggler of those noble men are, on the one hand, high for those who are high and have advanced upward and are perfect in everything, so as to leave no room for excess, and yet they are also suitable for the imperfect and those who are beginners in contemplation, all combined together, so that it is not even possible to speak of them. And what is one to say, O man of God, where you have for these people everyone—both those who are practical and those who share in the Word, both the wise and the unlearned, both young and old, and all together—and you show yourself uniquely suitable to all who use them, not only teaching dogmatically and putting together those transcendent and ineffable things, but also pouring forth the moral and simpler word, and the explanations of the Scriptures from the fountains of the Spirit, unceasingly, just like that sacred manna, they say, which long ago fed Israel in the desert, and which became for all things for food, and was suitable and naturally fitted to each at the moment of need? For you yourself have had, or to speak more truly, you have, the true manna, Christ, bubbling forth within the heart, of which that manna was a kind of type and symbol. For I have nothing more to say, nor is there any device, so that I could inscribe the very soul of this man of mine into the Word and the writings, along with its own passions and movements concerning you and yours. So it is. Since these matters have proceeded in this way, and having presented to such great and admirable men—and especially to the one who had delivered speeches against the enemy of this holy ^C stillness and the truth concerning piety—the arguments, and as even he himself would never have expected, what happens? And where do the events of this new war end? Barlaam, the benefactor of all, having turned himself away from the war against others, and from speaking and writing against them, as indeed he had before, moves entirely against Gregory in order, and confronts him as the noble protector of the Word, all the while doing away with the battle. For since he could not approach him face-to-face and strike him—as a shaft, he says, falls upon a stronger opponent and is repelled, and breaks apart and retreats; for he had met the protector of piety—the plans of his artifice and deceit no longer had any place among them, having long since been well-exposed, and having all turned back upon him. Leaving behind my fellow Thessalonians, and the civic spirit, and the unanimity and consensus, and the resistance, and the zeal manifested for the sake of what is good and just, and above all for the sake of virtue and those holy things—being terrified—he seizes the city of Constantine once again, trusting in the friendship of the one who was standing at that time at the head of the common Church of the faithful, and of those not a few around him, and because those men had long held, not well or kindly, a disposition toward those who lived in stillness for themselves and for God alone. They say that from them, in the beginning, this empty philosopher was badly provoked against the monks who philosophized about divine things, begrudging the prominent glory they received in their humility, and, among other things, wanting to possess these men as flatterers and worshippers. But there is a point that escaped me, lying between the things mentioned, for a short while. The wise man, having by now spent three whole years in Thessalonica—during which he was eager to speak and write the aforementioned things for the sake of the truth of piety—was for the most part devoting himself in these things also to his customary mourning, and to solitude, and stillness, and as he was accustomed, communing with God. And since he did not have his beloved desert, and the retreat from people that is undistracted, he prepared for himself a small cell, the most interior of all, which was, as it were, unassailable by knocks and noises and every conversation. Avoiding everything, he was there, and was betrothing to himself the things of the desert, night and day, as much as he was able.

^D The great man, therefore, was sitting, practicing stillness, and praying mystically to God; but the companions and fellow-ascetics of such things were all together with the admirable Isidore, keeping vigil all night and chanting, and celebrating the festivities in the customary manner, I say, with Anthony, the common teacher and father. For that evening was of the common annual festival which was commemorated by him. From which not even this great man himself was absent—O, the wonder!—but he was also there, quite brilliantly, with the monastic habit, and celebrating together, and working together, and acting as a just administrator for both sides. For even as he was praying there, with Gregory and...

^A Antony the Great also was present, who, appearing before his eyes, said, "Beautiful is the prayer of the mind in stillness, purifying the optical power of the soul, and rendering it worthy of the ineffable revelation and vision; but it is also necessary, in due season, to be with and communicate in prayer and psalmody, and with the other spiritual matters, in addition to these, I say, with brethren of the same manner of life. You must, therefore, also now go to those keeping vigil and chanting, and depart, in need of your supervision as much as possible." And he, having spoken these things to his friend, departed to his own place; but the other was immediately a fulfiller of the command, and leaving his stillness and his small cell, he arrives rejoicing, and rejoicing with his friends, and the whole of that holy night he performs with them, keeping vigil.

And it was decreed for the wise Gregory, and for the Fathers on the Holy Mountain ^B, as many as follow the life of stillness by themselves, and as many as were presiding over the monastic houses, and indeed for the common leader of the Mountain, to share the things concerning piety and the labor of his own effort, imitating the Great one well, as he shares with the apostles before him that which is according to the Gospel, saying, "Lest by any means I should run in vain," if indeed, he says, such a thing was said or done by the Theologian in the things related by him. He goes up, therefore, having Isidore with him, and shares the words, and points out the frame of mind and the diligence concerning his own stillness and divine contemplation; he explains the slanders and blasphemies of the enemies, and those things against which he himself had arrayed himself, and the common vote and judgment of them concerning these. And they, having found him to be a strong contender for piety—although not even before were they ignorant of it—and a fellow-combatant for their own things, and for the things of the others against those struggling against that great man, they praise him, and vote together, and confirm those things against them both by words and by writings; to which we too, being with them at that time, and still numbered in the choir of the elders, with soul and hand and words ^C and writings, and simply with all the things we possessed, we assented.

One must add to what has been said: Theodora, who had been left behind by the brethren, being possessed by a serious illness long before, was as good as already on the point of leaving the body and departing to God; and the Great one was departing to Athos, just as we said we had done. The disciples, approaching, were asking him about her end and her funeral, how they might be disposed according to his judgment, since there was an entire necessity that he should depart; and at the same time they were asking him to comfort her before the departure, as he had ^D done. But it was difficult; for it was natural for her to be in such a state, not having her brother and father to look upon, nor to speak with them as the last and most sweet words, at the very point of death that was to happen in a little while. But he, clearly foreseeing the future by the divine Spirit, says, "But there is no need of such things, be of good courage—for we too shall come, God willing, even before her very death." And he said this; but that which was finished was more than wonderfully and mightily so; for even while he was away, it was evening, the time at which it was customary for us to celebrate the holy departure for the Mother of God, and Theodora, going towards the necessary departure, was seeking the presence and the visitation of her father; and when she heard that he was away, she was wounded in her soul, and as if unworthy, she deprives herself of his final vision and converse; and she is silent from that time altogether and remains quiet, as if turned back toward herself. And those who were present for the carrying out and the burial of the body were all watching, as she was about to leave her soul after a little while, and they were preparing the things for the funeral; but she, O what a new miracle! continues even to the eighth day from that time, without food, without sleep, without pain, without conversation, and by breath alone and by her eyes confirming that she was living, and awaiting the presence according to the prediction of her brother. And it is clear from this: for the eighth day passing towards evening, he arrives from the journey, and stands by the one lying there and speaks to her; but she, having perceived this, and having lifted her eyes at the same time as her soul toward him, since she could not speak, with those things she had she makes sacrifice of her longing; for having moved those hands already dead, as much as she could, and having raised them toward God as if in payment of the owed thanksgiving, and having uttered with her soul and mind, "Glory to you, O Lord," she gave it up to God shortly after, gloriously; he who indeed has done such things so wonderfully and above nature, fulfilling the wonderful prediction for her, and the most beautiful desire for her, and honoring both at once; whose soul, as it was exiting, the divine light wonderfully illuminates her face, painting her holy and ineffable state and the brightness from without; and already carrying out the dead, and customarily singing the funeral hymn, such a fragrance overcame one of those present, and indeed that great man himself, that they were not able to interpret it because of its magnitude; but nevertheless, many things also in addition to this are reported by many worthy of record and writing, which, because of the length of the account, have been omitted by us.

Gregory, then, the Great, was in those things as was his custom, I mean in stillness and watchfulness and prayer, and in attending to the divine impulses as many hours as each day he was by himself. But the enemy of such things, Barlaam, having arrived at Constantinople, just as I said, being as I myself [found him to be, in terms of] magnitude and beauty and wealth and wisdom...

but not even as much as one might say in praise, I have not even this one thing alone to praise; but as if by dice and games, or, to speak with the wise theologian, as if by horse racing and theaters, he was playing with divine things, and dancing over the spectators, or rather acting out divine things, and making the mysteries a bad play as if on a stage. Having therefore seized upon this under the pretext and the lurking impiety, and having simply cast out as if they were bait for those who were trained in these matters, the things of external discourse and philosophy, in the great emptiness of those who might have stopped him, he quickly took all of this for himself, and persuaded them to think these things poorly for himself, and with his own blasphemies and dogmas—having introduced Beelzebub in opposition to the grace of the Spirit—he himself, just as the Jews did against Christ before him, called the godly ones impostors, and accused the holy ones of a wicked heresy, and called some blasphemers and deceivers; naming them also heterodox, [he who is] the truly wicked treasury of heterodoxy, the precise workman of blasphemy and deceit.

These things he whispered also to those around the one who presided over the Church, as that ancient one in paradise [did], and having long been corrupted, as I have already said, and through them, as through some suitable organs or limbs, having sought to strike down the head, just as that one did earlier through the woman against Adam, he nearly persuaded everyone to renounce the precise worship according to piety, and to pass judgment [in his favor] in the absence of her most precise worshippers and heralds. But God from above restrains this, who also allows temptations to manifest against his own, for reasons of wisdom known to Himself, for the sake of profit, and while allowing one thing and holding back another, so that He might not, I think, allow the lie to glory against the truth to the end. But letters arrived from there, from the one who presided over the common Church, to Thessalonica, summoning the holy Gregory and those with him to the Church as if they were now held accountable. And he goes up with his theological tongue immediately, neither shrinking nor delaying, bringing with him Isidore and Mark, the leading men among his friends, and the good Dorotheos. And when he stepped into [the city] of Constantine, it was as if one ^B could see the darkness being driven away by the light, and the nocturnal frost—that which prevails in impiety—brightly melting and dissolving at the striking of the rays of the intellectual sun, and the soul-destroying beasts, as the God-bearing David says, at the rising of this one, retreating and shrinking back into themselves and their own lairs and their beloved darkness. For all—as I said, almost all, except one or two of the best—who had been previously overtaken, or who were little by little being persuaded, or who were already beginning to be stirred up and overturned, [he turned] back to the first seat, and for the one who had found the truth, he supports and guides them by the Spirit of truth speaking within him, and straightens what was crooked, and makes the rough ways into level paths. And the good Spirit of God, according to the divine David, and to speak again, leads all through his guidance and his tongue into a straight land, where there is no stone and stumbling block, as the divine Scripture says again, no serpent biting on the road, nor wicked bite and blackness that is a precursor of death. And with these, or even before these, the patriarch who had summoned the same man from there, and indeed also the whole assembly of chief priests who were present at that time, who even before the great man had come to fuller speeches and to the examination of the subjects placed before them, were from the first starting line, as they say, and conversation, so astonished by his voice and the discourse that it was not even permitted to speak. But when they also gradually let out [the content] of his discourses to the sea, having conversed together for whole days and nights, and having heard the wonderful discourses of him and the empty utterances of Barlaam, and having found his utterances, whether in writings or in speeches, to be directly the very voices of God, and a holy mind, or rather the mind of Christ, as the divine Paul has said, and a mouth of theology, and a standard of holy dogmas and right faith, and whatever one might call [most] honorable and lofty, they all together openly confessed him to be a teacher of piety, and ^C agreeing and of one mind with the common teachers of the Church, and a common tongue of their confession, and a destroyer of error. And the common protector of the common Church expressed long thanks to him, because he had freed him and those around him from the error and the deception of the lie of Barlaam through his own wonderful discourses.

And these things were indeed from the leader of the Church at that time, together with the chief priests around him, for he still carried within his soul what was sound, and had not yet been turned aside by that most vile, destructive envy and impiety. ^D But since it was necessary that a common synod of the Church of the whole should take place, so that God might be glorified in a great Church and heavy people, as the divine David says to speak, and might in return glorify his own servant according to his own word: "For them that glorify me," says that one, "I will glorify, and they that despise me shall be dishonored"—and toward this, that the memory of the error might be removed from the midst with a cry, and that the legion of wicked spirits together with the herd of swine might be sent by the great servants of the Spirit into the sea and the abyss of perdition; this also comes to pass. And the mistress of the hour, for the time being, is determined, having received as a deadline the return of the wonderful emperor. For it was necessary, it was necessary that even he should not be absent from the rite and the mystery—for so I call the things performed in that holy synod with the Spirit for the sake of the Spirit—but that he should be present with his divine and imperial soul and tongue, and to preach wonderfully and to teach, and he himself by himself and the

^A truth of piety should clearly demonstrate, and should render the better argument 1. For so, together with that great and marvelous confession and theology, the holy Gregory—having passed over from here, having left the earth, and having departed to God—is deemed to have received ^B something instead of all worldly kingdoms and surpassing every kingdom of the emperors before him. But let not this be passed over by the word; for it is necessary not even to omit things of such great importance, nor the things that occurred in the meantime.

For the divine Gregory came from Thessalonica, as I have already said, along with those around him, to the Queen of Cities. Having begun to walk in Thrace, and having happened somewhere in the region of Odrusa and Orestias, as if it were a task aside from the journey and the purpose that lay before him, he set his hand to bring back my David, whom I mentioned, together with his marvelous wisdom and tongue, as he was a companion long ago in asceticism and words and customs and judgment; and he was numbered among his first friends. He writes, therefore, and calls him to himself to join him in the contest, as he was camping in peace somewhere in the mountains between Thrace and Scythia. There, that marvelous Gregory, having passed the descent from Sinai and having set up a school of divine philosophy in that place, gave to himself, and through him to the region and the school, the name granted to him from Sinai. But he, not only satisfying the writings of the great one, rather it was God Himself who led him from above ^C out of the wilderness and the hut, and quickly, beyond expectation, set him up as a fellow-contestant and shield-bearer for the champion of piety. For when Gregory was entering into Constantinople, he was present immediately, having come from the mountain, having instilled into the soul of the teacher something supernatural and marvelous, such as one could not describe, and as one of those who were sharers and followers of that divine philosophy who were descending with him. For even suspicion and the fear of a barbarian incursion, which did not exist at the beginning, drove him from there; so marvelously did the divine providence, just as we have already said, manage matters, as the necessity for their visit was from above.

Therefore, as those together with him were descending from there, and Dionysius, the friend, was with them—he who was a citizen of old of this reigning city and of those of noble birth, but a lover of the philosophy according to Christ, if anyone is, for the sake of which he had indeed lived his life as a stranger away from his country, spending his time in the wilderness, and being for the most part with that good man there. To him, while he was arriving, as I have said, into the city of Constantine along with the rest, and had come into the sight of the wise Gregory—for he had not even been seen by him before at all—having settled here with the other comrades, the following vision immediately appears to him as he was sleeping during the first part of the night. We were departing into the divine temple of the Mother of God at Blachernae, and the good ^D and holy Gregory, I say, was having us in his midst. But when we were entering the temple after a short while, and having prayed as was the custom, we stood immediately before the doors of the divine sanctuary, and I seemed to see certain men, bright both in appearance and in their vestments, coming out from there. And they, having clothed Gregory in some bright vestment, were handing to him a staff similar to his own, which he, having taken in his hands and having gone around the whole temple, with us all following, seemed to be driving out from there a certain swarm of human-creatures—hateful, all of them possessing a dark and black appearance. Then, coming back from there, he seemed to be occupied with the same things again, if any of them happened to be hidden inside in some darkness and corner, searching them out with much diligence, and likewise driving them away from the sacred things and putting them far off. But those who were leaving from there, since they could not bear to look back or even stand in the least, fled, threatening in their perplexity that they would be avenged, forsooth, by both deeds and words against him who was thus chasing them, and that they would never cease from their blasphemies against him. But the great one, saying to let those wretches wail, returned with us again and stood before the sanctuary in his previous position; and those who were clothed in the bright vestments, coming out and again from there, establish the great one upon the throne, having said three times "Axios," as is the custom, with a certain marvelous shout.

And the things then seen were such, clear symbols of things that happened afterward, and of such a nature that they did not even require an interpreter and guide. For whether one might call those "black human-creatures" those who are worked upon by demons and have plotted in many ways against the Church of Christ—I mean Barlaam and Akindynos and the most polluted and wicked gang about them—or the multitude of those demons themselves, the primary cause of the heresies, or both of these together—Gregory has often been seen, by both word and writing, and both collectively and individually, marvelously driving them out of the Church, and by divine power having received a supernatural victory against them, if anyone has, and having given to the pious a certain bright victory through himself. Indeed, the divine vision suggests marvelously, that twice against the same ones he will struggle for a more important prize in the Church: the one before the chair of the sacred office and the protection of the Church—I mean this one against Barlaam and the first principles and writings of the heresy—and the other against Akindynos, who most evilly succeeded to this heresy, I mean the friend and the plotter, and the pupil and the traitor, according to that ancient one, and his foul gang, after the ordination and the throne. And [the vision indicates] that that sacred ritual and ordination around him the divine temple of the Mother of God will have accomplished within itself, and there that "Axios" will be [shouted], perceptibly and intellectually, by the intelligible and the sensible Church together, for the one who is truly worthy in the divine Spirit with a little-

- ^A -wonder, having fearlessly [defied] the [subterranean] darkness, as they say, [for fear] of that divine revelation—nothing of it having fallen [short] at all. For even if the ruin of Acindynus had occurred before the great ordination, yet again—the heresy being cut down at different causes and times, now being destroyed, now raising its head repeatedly by the alliances of certain people, like the Hydra in the myth—in the end, this Hercules of ours, having obtained a more active alliance from the divine fire, as he had before from the sensible—that is to say, the divine Spirit, which flowed more plentifully upon him through the ordination—both cuts and burns it to its very roots, so to speak, and foundations, before the Church in common, and gives it over to silence and depth and utter destruction. ^B

What followed that wondrous vision? I wished to go through all the particulars as far as possible, and to adorn the discourse with those triumphs of the great man and his wondrous contests, and, as it were, to delight in the narrative; but the length of the discourse draws me away, failing again in their symmetry. Therefore, leaving those things to those who desire them, and to his own discourses and the common volumes and writings of the Church, I myself shall summarize the account, honoring [the principle that] "every measure is best," since he too [held to this].

The awaited most pious emperor stands by with the officials; he hears these things more fully from the patriarch, not having been entirely ignorant of such matters before. The synod is assembled at the great and famous temple of the Great Church of God, the Hagia Sophia. The whole city runs together, as if to a great and famous contest. Barlaam is brought in to accuse the monks, just as before. He rejects the order, and having previously renounced the guise of the accuser, he tries to proceed to other things and to corrupt the subject, but he gained nothing more from these [efforts]; for he is caught immediately, even though he did not wish it, by the production of his own writings, which he himself, having been demanded, had just handed over to the presiding [pastor] of the Church. Finally, the things of the many-headed heresy are wondrously exposed before all, and are mocked and derided by everyone together; ^C indeed, they and their father and author are justly subjected to certain most accursed anathemas. And since Barlaam had absolutely no way either to speak or to escape the famous proofs of the truth, nor could he for the time being flee the most just zeal of the Church and that theater of the common faithful—already aroused to anger against the heresy and seeking to destroy the causes of the error (for such are the things of the people, being readily inclined toward excess)—he feigns repentance and confession of the truth. And he, having thus condemned the heresy and falsehood of his own writings before all, and having requested and, as it were, received a place for repentance, [instead] runs off ^D to the Latins, his allies, with his impiety.

But the Church of Christ recognizes her own protector clearly, namely the great Gregory, and she lauds and admires him, and crowns him with various kinds of garlands of praise; if indeed she is not speaking of the wondrous things against him, what is she not doing? Rather, she is both speaking and doing all the best things, and she seems to do and say nothing worthy of him. Nay, the emperor himself, along with his kinsmen by blood, and indeed with those who hold the highest offices, also called him—with the great wonder—a teacher of piety, and a rule of sacred dogmas, and a pillar of orthodoxy, and a champion of the Church, and a boast of the pious empire, and everything whatsoever that is most beautiful.

But, oh, [the evil of] the wicked succession and the hypocrisy and the boldness of the lie again! Again an Herod-like ruler, and after the father-in-law Annas, Caiaphas speaks against Christ, unwillingly prophesying for the nation, and pleading for the truth that is fought against by him, and for the arguments of the prophets and theologians in its defense; and Acindynus the perverse, after them and with them, craftily approaching the heresy and error of Barlaam, and gathering the scattered associates of his, and winning over very many others along with them, and setting up the heresy, and ordaining himself teacher and instructor of impiety in a single day, and attacking piety and its champion, just like Simon the Samaritan of old, and Nicolaus the proselyte from the Syrians, [attacking] the Gospel, I say, of Christ and the first disciples and apostles. And while he rejects Barlaam—even though no one asks it—and subjects those followers of the ancient heresiarchs to some most dreadful curses, so that the error might have some cover and mask, he himself is quite the opposite in both words and writings, and in every war against piety. Again, therefore, there are contests and struggles, and a subject for battles for the defender of the truth and artisan of the word, standing against the same [people] and for the same [truth], and courageously risking danger for the truth of piety.

And for a while he converses and discourses first, and, in the presence of many good people, he bravely refutes Acindynus, and reproaches the heresy, and his previous hypocrisy regarding the truth, and this last agreement in falsehood. But he, since he had nothing to say or argue against, feigns once more the confession of the truth, having secured, as it were, his own arguments, and the communion and agreement with the saints through all things, by signing with letters of his own hand, and by bearing witness to the wise Gregory in both words and writings, which are still present to this day, exposing his impiety and his falsehoods. But when after a little while the [judgment]

and the tent were cast off; and having become a denier of this confession and of the writings, along with those who were of the same mind, he went about the city, stirring up trouble over the previous matters, and again, by falsehood, leading astray those who were not firmly established. For the Ethiopian does not change his color, nor was the crab taught to walk straight. Then a synod is convened by the Church, and once again, in nothing less than that former one against Barlaam; and once again, the great combatant and athlete of piety having appeared, at the same time refuting the error with the words of the divine Scriptures and the sacred teachings of the theologians, and brilliantly restoring the power to the truth concerning piety, together with the presence of the admirable emperor—the power having been thus held at that time, or rather, the power and the affairs having been held, while the diadem with the name of the empire had not yet been placed upon him, and he was filling the place of the admirable emperor and brother, having already departed to God in the most beautiful manner after the struggles and achievements on behalf of piety; who indeed also refuted ^B Acindynus concerning the things of Barlaam before this great synod as holding evil opinions, and clearly opposing the common values and opinions of the Church, just as the most excellent emperor, that brother of his, had previously done to Barlaam; he himself also confirms, along with the one presiding over the Church and the leaders and heads of the priests, [that is] with the wise Gregory and those around him, the power of piety; but rather, all [the others] also, admiring and proclaiming him both in words and writings and with all sorts of praises, just as much as those at that first synod; at which time indeed, the Tome against the heresy and its leaders was well set forth on behalf of the Church, containing everything briefly and together, and secured by the signatures of the heads of the Church, and above all of the one who was presiding over everyone, and [the one] who held the patriarchal throne at that time.

I see that the things of the discourse are extending to a great length for us, and therefore it is necessary to shorten it as much as possible, pushing aside the continuous and dense [stream] of events, as if in a theater and a crowd of people encountering one another.

Not yet had two whole months passed ^C after this second synod, when the long and difficult faction against one another of our people begins, and the civil war and destruction, and the common shepherd and guide of the empire and of the Church, who is obligated to restrain the common disturbance and the irrational impulses and slanders and envy of certain people, and to gather everyone with all haste toward peace and concord, as an evangelist and initiate of peace—not only did he not do this, but rather, as if on purpose, hastening to go in the opposite direction, and, alas, further inciting [it], he was seen every day stoking the battle, and kindling the division and the faction. And since he did not have the great Gregory agreeing with these things—who, although he was offering much advice and proposing ^D that he lead [everyone] toward peace and concord, and that he act in a manner appropriate to his appearance and dignity—for this was also incumbent upon him, being advantageous both to the empire in common and to the whole race, [whereas] the opposite was in every way contrary and altogether ruinous, and there was added, he says, the divine indignation from above and from justice, a matter so great and so supernatural, and in its nature easily bringing only utter destruction. Since he saw that [Gregory] thought and advised these things, not once, nor twice, nor only to him alone, but also many times, and in the presence of many and great men, even in the Senate and [when] the basilissa was sometimes presiding; and at one time alone, and at another time with a few of those of the same way of thinking, when he ought to have admired his spirit and his boldness at the proper time, and to have showered thanks for his goodwill and affection, and for having come in common to the glory [of the Church]—for in this way he would have displayed in deed [that he was] the common father and guardian of the race, and that it was not in vain, nor simply, that this great dignity was bestowed upon him; but he instead is excited even more to anger, and goes against his friend, and is armed, alas, against his gentle counselor, and seeks with all haste to take revenge on the man, neither considering his previous honors, nor how he had proclaimed him publicly and at home, and both before the synods and after the synods, and placed him among the foremost of his friends, nor considering these present things, and [that his advice] was both advantageous and saving for all, and for the common and individual [good], and that he himself, more than others, had undertaken the common guardianship of all, and the one obligated to give an account on their behalf and for the common stewardship to the Lord of all in common. Gregory, therefore, the wise, was immediately out of the way, since he knew that he was undertaking endless [struggles], and before setting himself and God [in order] as usual in quiet, and like that divine Jeremiah, weeping for the disobedience and utter destruction of the race; but the shepherd—alas!—since his concern was [his battle] against the flock every day, for this reason he also attacked the rams of the sheep more, so that he might accomplish the whole thing even more; what was he not thinking of, what was he not devising by night and by day? So that even this distinguished one of the great flock of Christ, in addition to those other things, or rather before all else, he sought to destroy; and since he had no mask for the battle, nor could he fashion even a shadow of slander against him, he goes openly against piety, and stirs up a strange and new war against the Church, and meditates the destruction of the divine dogmas, alas!—the leader of the priests and teachers—for thus indeed he thought that he would also overthrow the defender and herald, Gregory [that is], the wise, along with them, and raise a trophy against his zeal and philosophy, or rather against the Church of Christ, which was being most wickedly warred upon by him by his own [hand]; [the Church] to which, by the appearance and the action [of his office], he did not only belong, but [did so] along with all Christians... [index: entries preserved]

true to the name, as an alien and a stranger, and, to the enemy of the great Trinity ^A in common, he belonged only to that devil who is the root of all evil and to his faction.

For this new combatant against God brings into the Church the betrayer of the disciple, and the pseudo-apostle of the wise apostle, and the Antichrist in the face of Christ—I mean Gregory, the pseudo-named Acindynus, the apostate and enemy of the truth—gently at first and little by little, then with bare head, and what is called "the thing itself." While on the one hand, he exalted and presented him in words and deeds day by day, on the other hand, he attacked Gregory and the holy company associated with him, even when they were not present, and nearly sentenced [them] in absentia, and spent whole days and nights with the teacher of the heresy, zealously talking and conspiring with him against piety and its champions, as ^B records and memorials prove.

And to cut short the middle [of the story]: Gregory, the son of light and bright herald, after those long slanders and cycles—since the authors and accomplices of these things thought fit to judge him besides for public crimes, and for sedition or rebellion, trying to cloak their true accusations against him in shame, or rather, also, weaving these and those things falsely, at different times and in different ways, against the irreproachable one—finally, as a criminal, he is sentenced by them to darkness and prison, alas!—so that not even in this should he be found wanting in the likeness and imitation of the venerable Jeremiah, as I have just said; just as that [prophet] was once [cast into] the pit for the sake of the divine oracles and the truth, so too this man was imprisoned by his own tribesmen for the very same things, or even greater, while Dorotheus, the most excellent student and friend, was there with him—just as he was in the other trials and cycles—sharing in the long confinement and the rest of the afflictions. How, then, could you speak of it with pleasure?

The one who, by the evil fate of the Church, was her protector—since he held this lion, now a prisoner, as if he were a wild beast, and thought he had already shamefully finished the whole struggle, thanks to the great lack of anyone to hinder him—this protector of the Church, O earth, and sun, and divine things, and the struggles and contests of martyrs, and confessors, and holy Fathers, which have stood firm after Christ—this polluter and traitor of the Church, Acindynus I mean, the leader and treasurer ^C of the heresies, after that first one, he hastened to show him off! Hades, one might say, was his pedagogue, death his nurse, the storm of the wicked one his fire, and the wolf his teacher for the lambs—call him, I say, a father of the Church, so that I may not overlook the insulter of the Godhead! The destroyer of the glory of the Only-Begotten, joining with the Jews—those most vilely perished—and the enemy of the Spirit, whom you might call worse than any Macedonians!

That storehouse of heresies! That one a shepherd and teacher of the Church, that most fierce insulter and persecutor of it! So that he might even teach it something? The created divinities, of which he is the sole father and maker? Or the Platonic ideas, and those long-rotten and tasted trifles, and the mortal life, and that which is not primarily good and being, and all the nonsense of that fabled Greek deceit and imposture? Truly fine things for you, and truly appropriate for your kind of mystagogues and theologians! But you empty teachers must by all means learn from those who are poorly shepherded by you—and even those things: the created energy of God, I mean—so that they might also, by all necessity, construct his nature as created, since it is natural for the nature and energy to be one and the same and entirely indifferent in God; or that God is nature alone, bereft of all natural things, and the natural things of God are posterior-born and created to his nature—for both these things belong to your impiety and atheism; sometimes taking away the nature itself entirely through the negation of natural things, and sometimes demonstrating that even that [nature] is a creature through them. Since, according to the theological Fathers, natural things must be appropriate to the natures; for it is necessary, it seems, that you be impious, not in one way at least, and perhaps in two, according to those ancient leaders and lawgivers of the heresies, but in all ways alike.

And what needs to be said? Where you even denied the celebrated and supernatural and ineffable deification of human nature, for the sake of which, according to what has been said, is all the action of Christ and every mystery, having ostensibly honored this in name and by that alone, but in fact having insulted it! Into it [you have cast] the most shameful and absurd things, to count it among the creatures, and to place below, with a bold soul and tongue, that which is beyond all things; and not even perceiving the common and supernatural [nature] of this manifestation of the mystery, as not an angel, nor an ambassador, but the Only-Begotten ^D Son himself, who is in the bosom of the Father, explained it in works and words in a supernatural way, before ascending the mountain with the chosen disciples, having called that the kingdom of God, and having shown the glory common to himself and the Father—there, having displayed the lightning hidden under the flesh of [his] essential and divine splendor, and having shown, according to what the great Basil says, that he is the true light, the light that enlightens every man coming into the world, insofar as those carrying corporal eyes could see—the same theologians also say this, so that they might not lose their life with their vision. Hence, also, of the more perfect communion and deification of God in the future, according to which the righteous will shine as the sun in the kingdom of their Father, and will be as angels, and sons of God according to the word of the sun of glory himself, you all together impudently expel those [people], through the great transfiguration of Christ

^A blotting out that nature—since the theologians agree that this [the nature of God] and the glory and deity of God, which is natural, inaccessible, unchangeable, eternal, connatural, and indivisible, are one and the same—the never-setting light, that which is without beginning in terms of time, infinite, undefined, and immortal, seen by no human or sensible eyes, neither by intellectual ones in the same way, but only by those who are spiritual and godlike in the Holy Spirit, both now and hereafter, and possessing the victory over every creature; as David, the psalmist of the Old [Testament], says: "In thy light," he says, "we shall see light," that is, in the Spirit, I say, the Son, as the theologians themselves interpret this; and the logographer and psalmist of the New [Testament] again says: "Now it was seen," he says, with holy eyes, a mortal body radiating the glory of the deity," and, "Now the invisible things were seen by the apostles, the deity in the flesh shining forth on the mount of Tabor."

Of these things so great, so supernatural and divine, which "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man," the same theologian and philosopher tongue also says this: the one who impudently and brazenly takes away these things, insofar as it rested with him, the shepherd and leader of the common Church—O justice, and all-seeing eyes of God!—was ordaining a teacher of the Church and a shepherd, laying as it were the foundations of his own tyranny, by means of which and with which he was meditating the complete destruction of the common Church of Christ, which he himself ^B proclaimed to be higher than the gates of Hades; not knowing that he was weaving the snare not for it, but for himself, digging a pit, as the great David says, and preparing a trench, into which he was soon to fall himself, as the following part of the account will show me.

For, he was zealously attempting to promote to the priesthood the man who was alienated from the pious faith—I mean Acindynus, his own initiates and mystagogue—boldly and with much authority; but the Christ-loving empress, perceiving this, and showing a warm zeal for her own piety, in nothing falling short of the deceased man and emperor, was eager to anticipate and restrain the unholy act with both words and exhortations; but he, looking like one deaf to these things and answering not a word to the empress, by force thrust inside the holy entrance the man who had long before been cast out of the sacred vestibules and proclaimed an outcast of the Church, and enrolled him among the sanctuary [clergy], and numbered the deacon of the adversary with the ministers of Christ. The admirable empress, therefore, when she was immediately aware of what had been done so wickedly and violently, no longer delayed at all, nor did she hesitate, but she proceeded with the work very nobly and worthily of herself, and drove the one who had wickedly leapt upon the most holy [places] out of the sacred portals, together with those who were of the same mind and zeal as he; and they would have ^C tried, I suppose, together with prisons and blows—and especially the one most basely ordained, had he not immediately crawled into some underground tunnels and trenches—to become invisible to all except a few.

But a great murmur arose from the multitude of the pious against the heresy, and almost every rank and age sought to deal with these apostates; or rather, it would be good to hear the words of the wise Gregory himself concerning these very things. For he writes something like this, in a letter to one of his genuine associates: "Everyone, I suppose, will know from this, and will marvel at the power of the truth championed by us, that not only when there was no sedition, being examined in two synods, it held sway, but even when civil conflict arose, ^D when we appeared burdensome even to those who were reigning, and those who were slandering us had already for so long a time gained ground against us, and while all those people were saying and doing things brazenly, we remained imprisoned, nevertheless, according to the truth of the divine dogmas, we prevailed no less than before. For the whole [result] belonged to the power of God, which 'is perfected in weakness,' just as He Himself said to the Apostle. For then it is truly perfected, when, even while being fought against, its preeminence is demonstrated, and, appearing to be pulled down through the dangers brought against those who hold fast to it, it is revealed as higher than those pulling it down and unconquerable. And the same thing happened, as if someone had bound the tongue or hand of someone, and even then challenged him to a defense of words or writings, and not even in that way is he permitted to prevail over him in these matters. For consider how the emperors regarded us as enemies; all those who were trying to please them called us seditious, as not having provided an opinion that was in keeping with the times; how much more so those who were very hostilely disposed toward us, and were choosing to attack us in every way? Plainly, therefore, he was condemned to be ranked with the prisoners; and there was implied the charge of innovation in our dogmas, since the one who had turned back the shame of those doing evil truly claimed to speak the truth. Astonished at these things, the Barlaamites, and more than the others, his initiate and successor and follower, Acindynus, approach the one who was inflamed against us, since they were not willing to agree with the patriarch of the time, pretending to themselves an affection toward him and those in power, and bringing other things, only [hoping] that he would ally himself with them, having already found an opportunity against us, and wrestle back the defeat. But he, not even letting go of those things that had been proposed, and saying that they owed him a favor if they could turn all men against us, and especially those in the palace itself, where he even fashioned for us the guard, so that he might be most secure; and he was for them this very [person], the one who had taken hold of all the power, a leader, an ally, a witness to the things being said by them, as if he were privy to them, and as he thought, unimpeachable and…

^A a guarantor, being as it were a judge and the authority entrusted with the Church; a mediator to the emperors, from whom he also obtained decrees, and provided them along with his own letters to be shown against us, and through fear, to win over those not persuaded otherwise. But not even until this point did the things against us reach; rather, synods—or instead, under the guise of synods—were convened, in which threats and promises, gifts and removals, and everything whatsoever, both terrible and good, was not only spoken of, but also carried out by the one who had obtained the protection of the Church. And the terrible things befell those who stood with us, while the things that seemed good befell those who were racing against us and slandering us. But the base malice active against us was truly lifted—not in order that it might be exalted and remain conspicuous, but ^B so that it might be cast down with more violence, and be sent off with a roar to its own destruction, and not even be able to escape those far away. For as they thought they had already prevailed, and held everything according to their mind, and were intending to put the finishing stroke to their evils—or rather, were already putting it, namely the lawless ordination of Acindynus—God, who rules those who rule, moves the emperors, arouses to invincible zeal all those in authority, the rulers after them, the shield-bearers, the guards, and the attendants after them, and simply every royal rank, and all those moving about the palaces, that I may leave aside the others for now. And it was possible to see those who were furious against us suddenly turning their anger against those who were rushing against us, and all the others struggling together, and inciting one another to the contest on our behalf; and, what is greater, this while the civil strife had not yet ceased, but was instead still flourishing, on account of which they had previously felt ill-disposed toward us. ^C For come now: if someone standing by two who are fighting demands to be a judge of the things said by each of the two, would he be able to obtain any account from either, and this while the struggle against the one opposed to him is prevailing? And if the one seeking the verdict from him also has those who speak against him, how much more inaccessible is that which is sought? And if he should be suspected by him as not being, in a friendly way, disposed toward him—but rather, toward him, hostilely, while toward the one opposed to him, in a friendly way—and the one speaking against him is [the opponent], how is this not altogether impossible, unless there is something more? But that which was not even possible for two men fighting, before they had been released from the struggle against each other—and especially [by means of] those who were not thought to be friends—this God has made possible among the populace, soldiers, generals, and local governors, so that He might show to all, through all, that the power of the truth is invincible. And these things the beautiful tongue recounts ^D while narrating the bright [truth] against him, and the madness of the opponents clearly [opposed] to piety, whose leader and champion and general was that most wicked protector of the Church; and [it tells of] how the providence and the power of God operated in these matters, being both impossible and at the same time accomplishing the most beautiful things. But who could worthily go through in detail those things that happened in those days? What Thucydides, or another Herodotus, could recount the particulars? Or rather, I shall yield to the one who is a philosopher to us, and above all orators and sophists, in his own wonderful discourses, and in the letters written at various times to his companions, having philosophized on different things at different times. I, however, having mentioned one or two of these in passing, will turn my discourse to those things again.

A leader was being appointed at that time for the emperors of the Peloponnese, and a fine and good general; well-disposed toward them to the greatest degree, and no less a friend of piety, and a supporter of the correct doctrine of God. To him, while he was still preparing for that generalship and the expedition, and residing in the imperial city, many of his acquaintances were present every day—some as those intending to sail along with him, and to take a share in the journey and the authority there, and each serving what was needed according to his ability; others for the sake of friendship and simple conversation. With these there was also one of the disciples and friends of Acindynus, who had been assigned as a subordinate to the general; in appearance he was from a noble family, but in his manner he was base, and in his tongue, licentious, even if shortly thereafter the right hand of the Most High wonderfully transformed him. To this man, the mystic Acindynus, having entrusted the strongest of his writings against piety, arranged in iambic meters, sends them to the Peloponnesians, just as the myth of old sent the sphinx to the Thebans, or that overweening army of the Persians [sent] to all of Greece; and he kept these under his arm, studying them every day, and conversing with those present; and he was flowing copiously against piety and against Gregory, the protector thereof, and blaspheming, contradicting all at once those who stood and spoke piously in favor of these things, and before others, I say, [to] his own master and general. And [he was] defending the side of Acindynus and his followers strongly, and thinking and contending to everyone that he alone was the teacher of piety. But He who cares for the salvation of all snatches away, in one night, in an astonishing manner, both all the Peloponnesians and him too, I say, from this soul-destroying filth, and confirms all the faithful by the miracle; and the manner is as follows. The one carrying the evil writings in his bosom was lying on a bed sleeping at night; of the royal guards, some, as it seemed, standing suddenly [beside him], commanded him to rise immediately and follow them to the emperor, so having been ordered by the one in power. And he, having been immediately disturbed by fear, rises from the bed, full of noise and anxiety; and having come to himself, as if also having given everything over to the imagination—which often shapes even things that do not exist—he lies down again upon his bed and sleeps; but again the same royal guards

were standing over him and were commanding him the same things as before; and he himself, leaping up from his bed, seized by even greater anxiety and fear—since he had just recently experienced royal imprisonment and was bearing the suffering from that experience as if it were something subterranean—and struggling for a sufficient time with his own reasonings, and being perplexed by the constant recurrence of the same images; when, having ignored it again as a spiderweb and a phantom, he fell asleep on his bed in the same way, sleep held him again after a little while. Yet when those royal attendants stood over him and were again ordering the same things as before, and with greater intensity, he, still being held by sleep, seemed to be debating with them as if he were arguing and seeking the cause for the royal anger. But they at once pointed out—even with their finger—the evil papers of the heresy tucked under his cloak, and at the same time clearly taught him the cause, saying: "Because," they said, "you are hastening to carry off the trifles of the ungodly Acindynus with you to the Peloponnese, for the ruin and destruction of many people; and if you do not cast them away to some far-off place now, and at the same time tear your soul away from such a wretched habit and affection, you shall not escape the royal anger that is pending over you." And he seemed both to be persuaded by what was said and to promise its fulfillment most readily; and, having been immediately released from sleep, he set himself to the task according to his promise, having been best instructed by the circumstances that the vision was divine. ^A At any rate, having immediately cast the papers of the heresy to the crows, and having become a fierce enemy to them instead of a friend, he slept the rest of the night with a free soul. On the following day, having arrived at the governor’s house as was his custom, he was immediately reciting his recantation before all, asking God and those present for forgiveness for his previous actions, and becoming a clear herald to all of the wonders of God. The first of the children of the commander snatches up the words; he travels with haste to the great man imprisoned in the palace, just as his own word indicated a short time before; he reports to those around him both the deadly conspiracy of the heresy and its supernatural and wondrous destruction, at the same time bringing ^B the book of that wickedness, in verses, as a confirmation of what was said by him. The teacher himself hears everything there from his own people in detail; and since it was not possible to doubt at all, with the very words of those most wicked people being presented to his eyes—which the Father and Creator, at the very moment of their birth, had delivered to darkness and to the recesses and to oblivion—the light of truth, and shunning the refutations of the brilliant eloquence of Gregory, he rendered his thanksgiving to God with hot tears, with a certain ineffable joy of soul, for God is thus secretly and openly restraining the impulses of the most wicked heresy, and is managing the salvation of many in a wondrous and all-wise way. ^C Gregory the wise for four whole years was spending his time as if in some pit in confinement, and having brought into this his fellow-combatant and fellow-student, a companion as I said, Jeremiah, even though he was in such a sickly and languishing body, and one in need of nursing and constant medicine, and not, as with all the opposing party, where even the very being enclosed at all times and remaining inaccessible for so long a time is wont to produce rot for such people. But the double corruption of the generation was showing him [to be] rather [resilient]: at one time [those] rousing weapons against one another, and kindling civil wars with all their spirit, and at another time, those who shamelessly denied the ancestral and apostolic worship of God and the common traditions of the theologians, and were introducing the profane and empty utterances of the heresies into the pure word of truth, just as the counterfeit into the proven ^D gold, or the vinegary and watery and least useful to those using it into wine that naturally gladdens the heart. And what is more terrible and grievous than all of these things [is that], alas, even those who appear to be the overseers and leaders of the Church were inciting the many or even almost all to these things, by whom and by themselves they ought by every means to be restrained. But he, departing from all of these things at once to God, even now [cites] the word of the divine David to Him with the same hope of the voices: "Let Your mercy, O Lord,

as we have hoped in You. 10 And again, he assigns to those under him the presiding leader Acindynus, and adds that of the Golden-mouthed [Chrysostom] continually, with equal goodwill and thanksgiving, namely: "Glory to You, O Lord, for all things." For these were, as it were, his life-long utterances to the divine, in that great and celebrated soul; and most of all in the season of trials and temptations, he was unbent and unshaken in all things, as if in the midst of a furnace in these manifold temptations, standing unwithered like those blessed children, both visibly and mentally hymning God, and weaving the hymn of confession most excellently with both words and writings, and indeed mentally burning up the ministers and leaders of the error from thence, and from thence calling all creation with deeds and words in an extraordinary way to both thanksgiving and supplication.

^B or Barlaam, another, as much as concerns impiety, I mean, and the wicked zeal against piety. But God resolves these things more swiftly than those former ones; or rather, He not only resolves them wonderfully, but also turns these very things upon the head of him himself, as the discourse will straightway show. For as the wonderful Empress, who presided well over piety, perceived even these things, she straightway sends to John, the champion of the heresy, advising him to abstain once and for all from the communion of those who think the things of Barlaam and Acindynus, who had been synodically convicted as heretics along with their teachers, and had been cut off by letter, and by tomes, and by the most fearful curses of Christ and the Church. But he, adding impudence to impiety—especially since Providence was justly pushing him into the pit which he himself previously dug—sends back a whole book of writings to the Christ-loving Empress, intended as a defense of his own innovations, so to speak, and his own bizarre deeds, or rather, he appeared as the author of his own most just downfall and deposition. For he carried within it a slander, and a heap of calumny and blasphemy against the holy Tome of the Church, and a subversion under the pretext of an explanation of the Tome, which he himself a short time ago, while still possessing his mind and brain uncorrupted, had praised and supported as defining piety directly, and had supported well before all others, ^C with both tongue and hand. Not only that, but also the most powerful and timely of the writings of the impiety were in that book of the heresy, declaring almost all the saints and theologians to be heretical through their own holy writings. He is caught, then, by his own feathers, and the just penalties are exacted from him; and the illustrious enemy of the truth, having kindled the holy zeal—if ever there was one—for piety in the wonderful Empress, and having gathered the choir of high priests together with the notable men of the Church, along with those in authority, and having caused the champion of the heresy, together with his own initiates and the leaders of the heresy, to be stripped of the priesthood and to be cast out of the Church, ^D most beautifully and justly, and in a way worthy of herself and of God. Because of which, I suppose, the affairs of the kingdom are preserved for her by Him even into old age, justly rewarding her wonderful zeal for piety, and her protection and alliance of His Church, and the holy emulation and courage of the wonderful King and her consort for the sake of piety. For by this bright confirmation of piety—for the destruction of the heresy and of those presiding over it has been a confirmation and pillar of the Church of Christ—that very same day the common sedition is dissolved, and the [affairs] of the civil wars, the kingdom’s [affairs] into...

remnants of the disorder, this was indeed. But God from above, even when he was being driven out, wonderfully proclaimed the great man to those in the city, and showed, through those who were rightly seeking him, what kind of intimacy and boldness he had toward Him; and as the account shall now declare.

There was one of the pious and diligent [men] in the clergy of the Church of Thessaloniki, enrolled of old, honored with the rank of presbyter, and fulfilling the office of orphanotrophos ^B for these. He had a female child, who, though still subject to the bonds of youth, was nevertheless suffering from a grievous malady, with every limb of her body paralyzed, and she had been lying bedridden in the house for three whole years. But when the festival of the Mother of God was at hand, which it is our custom to celebrate on her holy nativity—on the eighth day of the month of Gorpieus, that is—the aforementioned presbyter besought those who were partakers of the liturgy and fellow-presbyters that a holy prayer be made during the common participation in the mysteries, unto God and Master of the mysteries, that it might be made known to them by some sign from Him concerning the archpriest who was being driven out unjustly from there—for they had confidence in his position and his boldness before Him—for the sake of, as he says, the conviction and shame of those who were willfully behaving wickedly, but for the confirmation of those who were wavering and turning about through ignorance. And while they were holding the prayer for these things here, performing the mystical [rites], he too was praying with them, setting before his mind the girl who was bedridden, and asking for her healing as one of the signs from Him. And God, magnifying there His own servant, for whom the prayer and supplication were being performed by them, suddenly raised the maiden from her bed, and caused her to walk ^C without stumbling and to run about the house with those who were healthy. O how strange are Your wonders, Christ! He filled the onlookers with wonder and astonishment; these things, when made known even to the priests while the mystical [rites] were being accomplished, made them hymn God and wonder, beyond word and thought, and especially those who knew of the girl’s heavy and chronic suffering, and [who knew] that servant of God to be a wondrous archpriest, a rival of the Apostles, well knowing him themselves and proclaiming him with boldness to the others. The archpriest, then, having turned his course from there, since they had rejected his presence, as I said, withdrew to the holy Athos; and after his arrival, and after having suffered greatly in body, or perhaps after his return, and being able to ascend the mountain only slowly and after many days, [he was] somewhere there, speaking (I suppose) toward Thessaloniki, his own [city], the very things which Christ ^D also [spoke] toward Jerusalem as He was approaching her of old: “If you had known, even you, especially in this your day, the things that make for your peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes, and you did not know the time of your visitation.” But the Fathers on the mountain, having gladly received and seen the long-desired one, and of his tongue...

they are to be baptized by thee, [they will see that] they are dragging nothing more toward us than their daily food and the necessities of life. So that the story, as you say, of those many great gifts and treasures is not essential, nor is it [of any concern] to us at all. What is next?

^A ...of [the] [currents], partaking of a sort of divine nectar each day, they were extremely eager to keep him with themselves, and [that he be] willing [to stay] until the affairs of the turmoil and disorder there should return to their natural state of harmony and health. But Stephen, the lord of the Triballians, himself also setting foot on Athos at that time—for that most wretchedly perishing faction of the Romans themselves had indeed designated him emperor of no mean part of the Roman realm—that man, therefore, having arrived at that divine mountain with an air of authority, and having met that great high priest and entered into conversation [with him], having long desired it by report, first of all begged [him] and was of every sort to draw [him] to himself and to transfer the man to his own realm, not lacking for words or promises of what he would do so that he might attain his desire. But as he had no success ^B in prevailing upon him with these things, he turned to a second supplication, adding a touch of force so that he might take hold of Constantine, and once again the great [priest] would become an ambassador for him to the emperors. But that was, in plain terms, more a mask for the hidden [purpose] of the embassy, and not the truth of the matter itself. For he did not wish that great man to be possessed by the power that was still newly established and shaking on Roman soil, since he was, as it were, a live coal of the Roman empire, and could easily kindle again for them the flame of goodwill of his own people, being of such a size in deeds and words at once.

^C Forced once again, the high priest of God [sets out] to ascend to the [city] of Constantine, as I have said. He goes to the emperors, and after a little time has passed, he returns again to Thessalonica, to his own Church, both on account of the debt of the oversight of those there, and indeed because the emperors were urging him together with the great caretaker of the common Church, since the affairs of the faction there appeared to have Been calmed, as it were, and to have moved toward harmony and concord. But again [there were] other causes of disturbance and dissension, and the high priest was again excluded from both the city and the Church. For those who were the leaders of the past confusion were demanding from the emperors, as rewards for their disorder and faction, certain things that were of the greatest magnitude and beyond their own rank—for which it was, in fact, more just that they should be led away [to punishment]. And since they were not obtaining [these things] from them, a choice was set before the high priest of one of two things, of necessity to be chosen: that he must either leave the emperors deprived of the sacred remembrance and laudation in the holy [services], and thus enjoy the throne and his authority, or, by holding fast to them and not letting go, be cast out together with them. The great [priest], therefore, in a choice of evils, chooses the lesser, and again accepts exile with them, and again for the sake of not dishonoring any of the established laws in any way whatever, since he saw that the division and the faction were again creeping in among them. And again a voyage, and again journeys and the sea, delivering the high priest of the great city to the mother of Hephaestus, [to that] island, and yielding the great prosperity [of the city] to the poor and nameless one, and thus demonstrating this [to be] something great and illustrious and suddenly [so].

^D Once the great [priest] had stepped onto Lemnos, of the common Church, what need is there even to say how great an abundance of good things he brought to it for himself? Both in words and deeds and holy rites and teachings, daily instructing the people, and tutoring that thick and barbaric character, and softening the parched hearts, and showing them to be fertile and fruit-bearing, so that the common proverb was well inverted then for the locals—not that they were partaking of Lemnian evils, but rather of Lemnian goods through him. While the great [man] was passing his time there, a pestilential destruction and death attacks one of the many towns; I do not mean that common and universal [plague] which had occurred a little while before, but a manifold and partial [one] after that. The sufferers, therefore, call for the shepherd for a visitation and help, he who was staying in another town of the island. And he, being immediately present, not hesitating at all, nor drawing back, [he who was] of the healers, [even] those who did not dare to follow from fear of the disease, and those who were following by faith in the...

^A blessed one, and making their prayers and supplications outside the walls with all the multitude. But the great one—and such was his dread and his supplications to God, both common and those made individually before Him—checks that onset and that [plague], and dissolves the disease, and the death as well, God glorifying him even in this, and doing the will of those who fear Him, as the divine David says, and hearkening to their prayer.

^B But the city of the great one did not endure these things to the end, nor did it suffer its own good [shepherd], the Lemnian, to be betrayed contrary to all justice by a few factionists, being truly both corrupters and unworthy of that man and of that polity. Whence also, moved by a righteous zeal then more than before on behalf of him and of their own glory, and of the just ones, it drives out and casts away those few corrupt and base men, and brings the others to their senses, and suppresses the wicked impulse and the base deeds with suitable and appropriate remedies. And having gotten the others out of the way, most beautifully and as was fitting, with one mind and voice, so to speak, they all seek their good shepherd; and immediately a trireme is prepared for this purpose; and those of the Church, going up immediately, bring the great priest back, those very ones who were the cause of tears and mourning for the Lemnians by his absence, and now [being the cause] of unspeakable joy and some paeans and applause, nor even of skipping, for their own citizens with that brilliant arrival. For who could describe in detail the public festival and that joy; what birthdays and triumphal receptions and annual [celebrations] and all that men celebrate, could be compared to that festival of the great one? Or rather, one should not even mention those of old, being aged and extinguished. But what royal victories and triumphs ^C and festal entries should we set beside this to compare it equally? There is none, I think, among all of them; for hardly, as his friend and namesake Athanasius says again, could the great one be brought in such a way, of whom this great man is [also] a zealot, likewise in persecutions and in struggles, and indeed in his public proclamations. It is, therefore, only to the divine mysteries and the rites performed after them that one must compare that great festival of that day, and especially to the chiefest [festival] that shines forth above the others, which, indeed, according to that which has been said, is for us a feast of feasts and a festival of festivals; and it is clear from thence. For when the archpriest entered the city, as is the custom, and having put on the new ^D vestment and the sacred robe, and having to process through the middle of the city with holy hymns and psalmody, all the chanters, as if by common consent, were with great cries and shouts of exultation—as if on that great day of the Resurrection of Christ—still, even though they were far from that season and that day, clearly thinking they saw another Christ in the disciple and imitator of Christ, as if he were returning from Hades and the tomb of persecutions and of exile, and celebrating that day with the radiance of the Resurrection; and saying to one another, "Let us purify our senses, and we shall see Christ flashing forth with the inaccessible light of the Resurrection," and "Come, let us drink a new drink, Christ, pouring forth from the grave as a wellspring of immortality"; and towards the whole common Church, together with the wise psalmodist and the divine Isaiah: "Shine, shine, O new Jerusalem, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you." And the new thing in such matters [is this], that not even the one who urged these things, nor even the one who first began this melody, could be found at all, even though sought out afterwards; as it was clear then and after that to the prudent that this also was [the result] of the grace and inspiration from above, and that the mind and tongue of all had been moved at once and invisibly towards these things; so be it.

But the things that were accomplished by him after that brilliant entry into both the church and the city, it was the third day after that, and he proclaims to the whole city a public procession and a movement with holy icons and psalmody and prayers, as is the custom; and the city was immediately present, every kind and age and fortune, and would that one could tell how they followed, reaching out for the sight of him and his speech and his prayers to God on their behalf, a large part of it, praying, blessing, giving thanks for the past, beseeching for the things to come; and in the end, having extended a didactic discourse to all in common, and having advised on the most part concerning concord and peace, he thus enthralled all with his words, and wounded their souls towards himself and God in the highest degree from the first, so that not even speech was possible. And what is the need to speak about the others, where he at once made friends of those who were his abusers and most bitter enemies and factionists before, immediately from that discourse? Or rather, not friends only, but even slaves, throwing themselves there at his feet and kissing them, and confessing their rashness against him and their abuse, and what they had used before, as if being senseless, and seeking forgiveness from that holy soul and tongue with frequent tears. And he not only gave these things to them in abundance, but also added the greater things, and wrote to his friends and kin, and did not cease to the end in benefiting them both by words and deeds.

And since it was necessary to perform the liturgy and to purify his own people with the greater and higher and mystical sacrifice, the divine temple did contain him with the [clergy]...

and ministers, as is customary, now for the first time performing the mysteries for them. And God also glorified him from above once again, working miracles through him; and he glorified him in this way: There was a male child belonging to the presbyter and orphanotrophos who had been appointed; this child was afflicted by a disease, or perhaps a daemonic energy—I cannot say, though some call it lunar, not, as in others, according to the cycle of the moon, but rather it would leap upon him suddenly according to the cycle of the sun, and would put him in a most wretched state. As therefore the hour was already at hand to perform the great liturgy—which I have already spoken of—and one of the presbyters who were to concelebrate was the father of the child, he approached the great one with great faith, deeming him worthy to impart the life-giving sacrifice through himself to the ailing child. And since he had consented, as the hour was already calling, the father brought the child, carrying him in his hands. The high priest of God imparted to him the bloodless sacrifice according to his promise, and that annual disease, along with [the power] working invisibly, immediately fled, and the boy has been free from that time for a long time, praising God and proclaiming His servant to all through himself.

^C A few days passed, and the high priest summoned all those who had been ordained to the priesthood for a discourse. For since his goal from the beginning was to build up the Church, he understood that he must, prior to others, build up and instruct and educate and prepare those who were the foundations and pillars after the first and only foundation—or rather, the builders and co-workers of the building and architect, I mean, of Christ the first—by the architecture of the Spirit, so that the matters of the future building might proceed for him according to reason, and he should not seem to be running in vain. Having, therefore, as I said, gathered them all together, he set forth a most wonderful discourse to them regarding the great priesthood; showing both the height of it, and of what awesome and ineffable mysteries it is a minister, not only to men, I say, but also to the supercelestial and incorporeal essences themselves; and what is the measure of human limitation; and how no one, according to what is said, is worthy of that service; and how, since the only-begotten Son of God became man for the sake of the surpassing love for mankind, and has supernaturally become our high priest and sacrifice and sacrificer, and has handed down this awesome and bloodless liturgy to us who are of the same race with words of supernatural goodness, it is absolutely necessary for those who have been deemed worthy of this order to hasten to walk always as far as possible in the footsteps of the One who ordained them, if we are not to fail the goal entirely, building upon another foundation like fools, which no one of those who build truly and genuinely is able to lay, just as the blessed Paul says, saying, "For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ."

^D As for his unwearied zeal and eagerness for speaking and preaching and teaching in the assembly, and this in the midst of the difficulties of circumstances and the oppositions of both common and private matters—his discourses and homilies, at times to many, at times to few, and sometimes even to individuals; the beauty of his speech, and the varied and dense and lofty and supernatural character of those divine contemplations and thoughts—all have cause to marvel, but no one, I think, is able to express [it] at all. And what must one say, O divine and holy head, when every word and homily and discourse proceeding from your mouth was pure pedagogy of the soul, and correction of character, and overthrow of sin, and a school of virtue, and a philosophy of every good thing? It was, on the one hand, healing and anticipating this outward perception with the exceedingly pleasant and novel quality of the discourse, while on the other, softly pouring and penetrating into the ears of the soul, like oil and honey, as they say, and charming it more than any siren, and there attaching itself appropriately to each one, and regulating and transforming [the soul] unperceived, and there miraculously beholding things which human voice and human knowledge do not know at all, but which are known supernaturally only by the common Creator and Fashioner, who fashioned our hearts each one by one, the alteration of the right hand of the Most High through those who have acquired Him as an indweller within themselves, and who have been deemed worthy to work only the habitation and union of His divine activity; even if, according to the word of Christ, they resemble a scribe instructed unto the kingdom of heaven: "Who," he says, "bringeth forth out of his treasure things new and old," interpreting and gathering into one the things of the Old and of the New Testament, that is to say, or persuading [men] to put off the old man and to be clothed with the new; or if you will, also casting out the old idle talk and the polytheistic and aged error, and the ideas and fates, and the foolish wisdom of the Greeks, and by the accomplished and

^A succinct word of the truth and by the common wisdom of the Spirit, through which fishermen were made wise, and unto which those who were held in contempt were preferred—this is what the words taken together of this great man accomplished, and both what was written and what was said in public, both in common and in private, as it has been stated, as he gave counsel. But with these things being so, and the Great One thus making the Church perfect, both by words and by deeds and by all diligence—now tearing out the long-standing evil by the roots, and casting out the rubbish of the passions, now tilling the hearts that had long lain fallow, and casting the seed of the word by night and by day into the good soil—since those who were ailing with the [errors] of Barlaam and Akindynos did not cease to stir up and trouble the Church, which had [already been made] whole again, even though the originators of that heresy had long since been removed from the scene, the Emperor, together with the Patriarch, deliberated that a synod should be assembled once again in this Queen of Cities to examine once more the things stated by them. For they themselves were seeking this very thing every day, not so that they might learn the truth—for if they had known, they would have recognized these things which had been clearly displayed many times before—but so that they might merely appear to have something to say against the truth, and might trouble and disturb the many, which has indeed been a custom for all the heterodox from of old.

Since this seemed best, and the synod was about to be convened, the skillful craftsman and champion of the word was sought out immediately before all others; for the opponents looked to him—as to a noble combatant and general—for the whole, or the greater part, of the struggle, even though they were attacking us no less in common and honoring the communion of insult. The thrice-victorious one, therefore, comes up from Thessalonica—and once again, so that I need not say this four times or many times over—having been summoned to the struggle by letters from the Emperor and the Patriarch with the greatest possible show of respect. A great and marvelous synod is convened, one exceeding those before it; [composed] not only of bodies of many and great chief priests who breathed the same spirit toward one another, and who were bravely fighting in advance on behalf of the Spirit and the right belief and also of the Church, if need be even unto blood—both those related by blood to the Emperors, and those in offices of state along with the entire Senate—but also of another assembly of wise and learned men, both from those in authority, I say, and from the chosen ones of the Church, and indeed also of monks and ascetics, and of those who were philosophizing on divine things both in common and by themselves. For I forbear to mention the multitude of the faithful who had gathered in a throng to hear the words of the faith, so that even the royal hall ^B that received this synod, although it was both so great and so marvelous, was crowded both within and without by the multitude of those who had gathered. When the Emperor, therefore, had taken his seat together with the Patriarch, as is the custom, and we [had taken ours] after them and with them, each, of course, according to…

^A those who think contrary, a small and mixed party, not the portion of Jacob, nor the Lord’s people and the measuring-line of his inheritance; some Canaanites and Hittites, and not even worthy to hold the rank of those Gibeonites whom Joshua, the son of Nun, assigned long ago unto the people of God as water-carriers and wood-cutters, having forestalled themselves by guile and fair hypocrisy from the destruction and total annihilation of their neighbors. Whence also one of the priests who held office and rank in word and in seat, seeing them as they came in at that time, and from that very appearance said that they were clearly of the lot and party of those whom these images of ours, which are above us, record—speaking of the wicked assemblies of the heretics, shamed long ago by the holy councils of the Fathers, the images of which that holy and royal house also bore.

As for the things spoken and done there, point by point, by the Emperor and the synod during, I believe, five entire consecutive days, I shall leave [the account of those] to those who know how to speak and to write, and above all to the divine definition of the faith, which the holy synod, together with the Emperor and the Patriarch, set forth well, and through judgment and hand and letters, with the power of the Spirit who spoke in it having been granted to it, left behind for the Church of the faithful as a pillar of orthodoxy and a trophy of piety and an unshakable tower of theology, fortified on all sides by Scriptural proofs and by the theologies of the holy Fathers and councils and by words most exact; even if the remnants of the delusion, like the tail of some dead serpent that is still twitching, tries to strike against it, grieving exceedingly because of the wounds from that [serpent] and because of the death of its own body.

^C Gregory, however, the wise man, since the whole of the struggle, so to speak, looked toward him, and those who were attacking the Church in common were aiming at him as a target, he too embraces the battle most readily, and takes the whole war upon himself at once, this being what the Emperor and the synod had also urged. But let those who were present at that time speak of the events that followed, having received the things done and said by sight and by hearing. How, indeed, he put to flight once and twice those God-fighters, who did not even endure the onset of the divine light in his words, so that even the Emperor and the entire synod together were unable to restrain those who had promised to return, forsooth, to the following year, but who had not yet even now made that return; and how he proclaimed in the Great Church, by means of words and letters and extraordinary public speeches, the healthy word of the faith, having demonstrated himself to the wise theologians of the Church, and them, in turn, to each other and to the holy learned men, to be in complete agreement in all things, so that not even the strife itself had anything to say against these things or to mutter; and how he then lifted up the souls of those capable of hearing, and raised the mind in a body, and

^A attached them all to his wise tongue, and how they paid attention to his lips and to the stream of his words, almost going out of themselves in divine possession and love and the Bacchic frenzy for those things, who could ever tell it? It would be possible only for those who experienced those things to know accurately that such was the nature of that struggle and of those words, as they say, to demonstrate from the claws. ^B If indeed Clement, the exegete and scribe of those things, also struggled alongside Peter, the herald of piety, by both speaking and writing, those things must also be credited to Peter, who chose to work both in words and writings and by his vote, and who had been made a partner in the things done according to him; in these things, indeed, and the matters of this last holy council were finished.

When, however, it was necessary for the great man to return to Thessalonica, and not to be away from the Church for too long, he embarked with those who were with him upon the sea. But they experienced so much of the surge and the swell and the turmoil upon the sea—for they were sailing off-course as to the season, and both rising and falling—that the perils of the voyage were surpassed by the return, discouraging not only those sailing but also the sailors and the captain together, and everyone was running in fear for their lives, taking final farewells of one another, and, as if at their last breaths, commending themselves to God in confession, as is the custom. But the great high priest of God was not only recovering them with better hopes and teaching them all together to turn toward God through prayer, but also, having more than anyone else become whole in his own dignity and rank—if ever he had—he stationed himself between God and those accompanying him, as a true mediator between God and man. ^C Using the ineffable prayers of the mind and his customary boldness, he quieted the storm, stilled the surge, and saved everyone from the shipwreck, beyond all human expectations. And the sea thus paradoxically grew calm for them, the wave receded, and it delivered them gently to their own people and to the city.

But the storm of temptations did not, however, grow calm; for as they approached the harbor of the city, and one might say were about to land joyfully, the king blocked their entry—the separation from his father-in-law and the king having already been plotted, and certain covenants and words, I know not what, being shared at that moment with the aforementioned ruler of the Triballi, Stephen, on account of which, indeed, he closes the passage to God's high priest, supposedly making [the situation] secure for Stephen from that point on, so that he might not appear to be fabricating the covenants with him, and preparing some deceit, which was, in truth, indeed what the king had wisely played down, as experience clearly showed later. He then retreated again, and because of necessity and ^D of those who were distressed at these things and were murmuring at the continuous nature of the temptations, he [Palamas] said the exact opposite, that it was fitting to be pleased and to rejoice in these things, and to offer greatest thanks to God, that we too have been deemed worthy to participate in some way with those great teachers and high priests of His, who were branded as saviors and fathers and benefactors of the people of that time, while being hounded like certain criminals and wretches and public enemies throughout the whole time of their lives, and ultimately receiving the price of death from those whom they held in honor. And while saying these things, in harmony with his words he displayed them in his actions, being himself a man great and lofty beyond measure in his intellect and soul even in the midst of the temptations, and having kept his composure far above the things being done.

But God, who with the temptation makes the way of escape, according to the blessed Paul, so that we may be able to bear it, also dissolved this temptation after a short time. For three months having passed in the interval, the wondrous and Christ-loving queen, appearing with a noble and royal disposition, exposed those covenants between her son and the king and Stephen, or rather the phantoms and pretenses of the covenants, and properly recalled the high priest to the Church and the city, together with the king and his son; since the king himself, holding the great man in no less, if not greater, honor, being wise and Christ-loving, and claiming for himself goodness and virtuous ways, even if the difficulty and adversity of circumstances and times had prevented him earlier from using his own natural advantages according to his own judgment. The high priest therefore returns to the Church again; and he himself looks upon her most gladly, and is looked upon by her in precisely the same way, bestowing love upon one another and reaping the fruits from one another—he, her obedience toward divine things, and she, the all-encompassing benefit of his words and deeds; and it is clear even from this.

There is a large and populous nunnery in Thessalonica, royal and, I think, called so for that very reason; indeed it surpasses all of those of its kind. In it was a nun, one of the pious and orderly ones, Eleodora by name. She was suffering severely from a certain vile and morbid humor that had flowed down from above, affecting the left part of her head, and the discharge especially troubled her eye, and gathering the greatest part of the pain there, it was unbearable in this very affliction and, as it were, beyond comparison. And there was also suspicion of even greater things, lest the eye be pushed out of its natural socket, clearly, should it reach the point of the intense pain. The skill of the doctors, both local and foreign, was equally tested and failed before the magnitude of the affliction; and for days in succession

^A the great man was stronger than the anticipated death, as God was clearly working wonders, as I said, and for the most part the disease was receding, because he was compelled to carry about the remnants of it. Having entreated the wondrous Emperor much, he was again to ascend to the queen of cities, to act as ambassador to the Emperor and brother-in-law, and to offer peace treaties between both sides. But the King of kings from above, and Lord of lords, rejects these for the time being as superfluous, and miraculously sends him—a preacher, a herald, a mediator, and a reconciler through captivity—to the Achaemenids [the Persians] who are far removed from His word of faith, and indeed also to the captives held by them; and he departs a captive to Asia, to the Achaemenids who were in danger of perishing the most miserably, just as one of all the rest, he who had formerly been rich in the freedom and kingship from above, and who had led many excellently toward it by his word, that he might accomplish these things there too, and might through himself deliver many from the mental captivity and slavery.

Forty days having passed, the pain ceases, and it does so suddenly, without any external cause having intervened. And immediately a thin [film] having fallen, covers the pupil, and the power of sight—I mean the very one from that point—leaves the sufferer, not vexed so much by this very fact, that is, that the eye had been completely extinguished, as by the fact of being deprived of most of reading. With the year after this blow being near its end, and the month of Gorpiaeus already arrived, the feast of the Nativity of the Mother of God was being celebrated there brilliantly, and the teacher was present all night, celebrating with the flock. As the evening hymns were drawing to a close for them, ^B he began a didactic discourse and homily to those present. And since all were, as usual, hanging on his teaching and his holy sirens—since even the nun suffering in her eye was standing somewhere nearby with the others, and shared in the nectar of his words, having her soul filled with wonder and compunction, and her eyes with tears—she rendered great thanks to God, both that He had mercifully brought such a man into the midst of them, and that she herself had been deemed worthy to share in such things. Moreover, [she was] also condemning the utmost folly, audacity, and impiety of certain Byzantines who were using their tongues licentiously against him, and attempting to slander his character, and she moved her supplicatory hands toward God with many tears, so that by his prayers and his boldness before Him, she might be delivered from the encompassing affliction, and might regain the eye as functional as it was before.

The night having thus passed for her, and with such bright hopes—for there was, she says, no room for hesitation, nor for doubt—since the hour of the sacred rite and the mysteries was also at hand, of which the high priest was the minister and celebrant, she approaches, just as the woman formerly with the issue of blood did to Christ, drawing near as much as she could. And having quietly touched the priestly robe of the great man, and having applied it to the suffering member, she draws the power that went out from him miraculously, and the healing. And it was hidden as yet for a while, but as the night went on, ^C in prayers with many tears and supplications, and on the day following that, she arises radiantly, clearly seeing the displays of your supernatural and new works, Master, having her eye clean and healthy entirely, such that it did not even seem that it had ever been extinguished, or that it had even briefly forgotten its natural operation.

A year was passing for him in these things after his return, I speak, from Byzantium, and having been worn out in body by the frequent journeys and trials and unspeakable toils, and having suffered extremely, he falls into a terrible and long-persisting disease. And all together despair of his living, but God, beyond all hopes, grants this again, preparing the athlete for struggles and other races and wrestlings once more. And

^D But it would be good to hear again from that most beautiful and holy tongue of his, relating the things concerning itself and that common captivity. Therefore, he says in the letter to his own Church, writing thus: "Such were the struggles and contests concerning the captivity, and the wonderful victories, and the trophies against error—I speak of Gregory the Great! And thus my own wrestler also appeared there, crowned by the energy and power of the Spirit indwelling in him, imitating Himself as it were everywhere, and having victory in all things through all, as if it were allotted to him and congenital."

And I have gone through these things at such length, and in detail, not in order to add some glory to him and his words, as someone might assume—for what among his things is not lofty and divine, so as to astonish both speakers and hearers alike, even with excess, even if it happens to be the smallest thing, and of those said and done by him incidentally and not with design? But [I did so] that from this source there might be demonstrated to those who do not know the more lofty and most secure theology of the man, and how all his things are in agreement with the Apostolic and Patristic dogmas throughout; and that he was a herald everywhere, in all things and to all, of the Monarchy and of the one, three-hypostasized and almighty Godhead, but not of polyarchy and polytheism, according to those truly polytheist worshippers of the "Ideas" and of created things, and of the true worship and Godhead they are abusers, whom the discourse having preceded has already often refuted through him and with him; since it was not right for such things to be handed down in silence and oblivion, being clearly a mystery of piety, and of the sacred word among us, the

^A part of the faith, and not the least. But let us return again to the matter at hand.

A whole year had been spent by the noble man in captivity and in the hardships of captivity, and he was even now encouraging the pious towards endurance and courage and the practice of every other virtue, both by the hope of things to come, and especially by his own example. Now he was refuting the impious and triumphing most brilliantly over the mystery of their error through many trials—due to which, as the narrative has already shown a short while ago, he was a bloodless martyr and a brilliant athlete of piety. When public affairs had shifted again, as in the turning of dice for the Romans, and a change had occurred involving both the empire and the common Church, and those who had been most zealous for his freedom had long since been removed from power and the management of public affairs, at that point, contrary to all expectations, he was released from captivity, exactly when their hopes had perished entirely. For God had moved from the western borderlands certain Triballi or Dalmatians—men of good character—who, even though they were from afar, paid out their wealth lavishly to the barbarians and rescued the holy man, so that this also might be counted purely among the wonders of God done around him, who does and transforms all things according to what has been said, by His will alone.

^B He was a pious and sensible man, and was habitually with the holy man, and would gladly partake of the life-giving streams of his tongue. Once, when the feast of the Lord's Transfiguration was being celebrated by them as is the custom, during which it was necessary for Porphyrios and the other monks to spend the night keeping vigil and to serve in priestly fashion, a sudden pain struck him in his left side, which kept him from both the sacred liturgy and the vigil, as well as from standing in the temple; or rather, it deprived him of the sacred rite and the attendance in the temple, but added much to his vigil, to the point that the intensity and peak of the suffering would not even allow him to lie down on his bed completely. That night was passing, and the pain was not relenting in the slightest. But when the time for the mysteries approached and was summoning the high priest of God to the sacred ministry, Porphyrios, as he was, immediately followed the one presiding over the sanctuary, who was numbered among the bishops under him and was customarily invited to concelebrate. He became a witness and hearer of the mystical liturgy, standing somewhere near the holy altar. And when the mysteries were completed, he immediately approached the holy man, announcing the pain that was pressing upon him so painfully, and begging for a cure as quickly as possible through his hand and his prayer. But he at first put him off, and piously rejected the request, saying that he himself was unable to perform such things, and claiming that Porphyrios should not have such suspicions ^C about him. But as he persisted all the more, seeking the sacred seal of that man's hand and his prayer, the great man yielded to the necessity of the sufferer. Looking towards Christ, and laying his hand crosswise upon the side of the elder, he spoke sorrowfully about that divine and sacred member: "O crucified Master, with your nails you wiped away the curse that was against us, and being pierced in the side with a lance, you tore up the bond against Adam, and set the world free." Then, speaking to him that saying of the leader of the apostles to the paralytic, "Jesus the Christ heals you," he immediately and completely freed the sufferer from that bitter pain, not slowly and little by little, but so that he went back to his house and the monastery, whole and strengthened, in a wonderful way.

When he arrived in the queen of cities again, he wondrously published in two books his discourse against the Latins concerning the procession of the divine Spirit—a discourse new and supernatural, such as our Church had never seen before concerning such matters. Or rather, to tell the truth, stripping away every veil and mask, it was such that it proved all those before him who had engaged in discussion with the Latins to be playing games and merely posing. Having brought these forth so wondrously and worthily of himself and of the Spirit speaking in him, and having dealt the final blows, as it were, to the followers of Barlaam and Akindynos who were still alive, both in speeches and in writings and in face-to-face dialogues, with the emperor himself and many of the dignitaries present—so that he was admired by all no less in these things—he returned ^D to Thessaloniki, his own city, and again, as you might say, it was thirsting for him and his own, and was fiercely burning with longing. And since he found it thirsting no less for the waters from above in a sensible way, and melting in drought, he immediately loosened for it the drought of the sensible in-pouring of rain by having propitiated the Creator through prayers and supplications; and he watered it abundantly with the life-giving word that gladdens the heart, for those who had been thirsting for this for a long time now. And he would heal them as was his custom, making them whole again both in soul and in body from either side.

Days passed after this, Porphyrios himself used to say, and a certain infirmity came upon my body, and after I had suffered with it for many days, when I was already looking toward its decline and the end of it, then indeed I experienced it in the highest degree, and most intensely. For all of the annoying matter, as if on purpose, flowed all at once towards the throat, and made all the previous suffering seem like a trifle; for it blocked the natural passage of food, so that for eight whole days I could not even take in water, nothing at all, and it threatened a painful death by strangulation. And since every plan was set in motion for a cure, and all likewise

^A I had recourse—once again to the customary physician, that is to the Great Gregory—and I declared my disease, and finally adding the evil that had struck my throat, I persuaded him with many prayers to lay his hand upon the suffering member. Having laid it there in the sign of the cross, he added this wise melody to Christ, ^B "You remained untouched by passions, Word of God, you conversed in the flesh with the passions—yet you release man from the passions," which he carried through to the end. "Depart," he said, "to yourself and your small house, to God alone, turning for the healing of both psychic and somatic passions, since even to Him you can do all these things alone." And these things, the man of God. Porpyrius—returning from there—he said again, ^B the throat only, but also that I was moved to an appetite for food. And I entered the common table of the brothers—for it was already the hour for lunch—and I myself ate these very things—oh, the wonder!—suddenly, just as all the others, I who just a moment before could not even take in water, and who, indeed, had anticipated [death].

A certain nun, possessing a retreat of virtue, I mean the venerable Theodora, had a child with her; an infant who had been exposed and whom she had taken up maternally and philanthropically, and having deemed her worthy of all manner of care, [the child] had now reached a childish age, and was able to serve quite skillfully, and to give good hopes to her mistress regarding the future, for which, indeed, she had been taken in by her. But one of the opposing evil demons, testing her in the most shameful way—for the natural waste of the stomach, moving contrary to nature, would foul her bedding, and her shifts, and she herself, sleep-bound at night on her bed, would be cast about in the most shameful ways, and would cause her mistress to suffer, having long since put away her infant nature, and [seeing] the disgusting and burdensome [habits] that the child had not at all cast off; so that even the affection and love toward the child would little by little leave [the mistress], and would look toward their distancing and separation. But the Savior comes upon those suffering, unbidden, and with one hand heals the body, and with the other the soul; or rather to speak accurately, He treats both by both, and both by both. For as the great high priest was customarily in the retreat, these things were reported to him, and they fall down at his feet, asking for healing with fervent faith and tears. But he, having looked upon them with philanthropic eyes, and having encouraged them with words having much sweetness and philanthropy, then having laid his hand upon the child's head, and having praised and prayed to God, he immediately shows the sufferer to be whole.

A certain man, Palates by name, a merchant in his way of life, gold-embroidered in his craft, who was adorning ^A with gold the priestly vestment for the great [high priest]; this he did, as a pretext, as it were, for his approach and for the future grace the great one was about to manifest, he stands unbidden at his house, while [the priest] was working with his fellow-craftsmen. But there was a son, and he was now five years old, and for fifteen whole months had been debilitated by a hemorrhage, so that his appearance according to nature and his form had almost left him, and he was certified to be surviving and living by his voice alone. The great one, having seen this at the house, asks humanely the cause of the affliction, and the father, immediately vanquished in his bowels, declares the trouble with tears and groaning words; and having at once taken up the half-dead boy in his hands, places him in the palms of the archbishop: "Have mercy on my son," according to [the words] in the Gospels directly to Christ—and he himself saying, that all physicians had been used for him for almost everything, and for all purposes, and nothing more had been achieved up to here, so that even hopes themselves had been abandoned. But he first seals the sick boy with the sign of the divine cross, and having laid his own hand upon his head, and having whispered a mystical prayer to God, after a third [prayer] he immediately gives him back to his parents whole and strengthened, so that even being seen after this, he proclaims the wonder by his gait and movement and childish leaps in a way that is extraordinary to all.

But these things [were] to him and such things continually to those individually; but what need is there to speak toward all in common? Since, if at public feasts and assemblies and holy processions and goings-forth, the majority [of people] were even considering and naming his own voices and instruction as the voices and words of life in a direct sense, so that toward his discourse and his appearance all were gaping at once, shoving one another and pushing back and competing, so that each might have the first place among these; and they were throwing most of the sick ones before his feet, causing them to return from there whole, possessing a much greater opinion of him than what was being seen, and seeing this man as one of the ancient God-bearing and apostolic men and teachers, and competing to add much [to their devotion] each day through their love toward him and their bright faith.

Such things are the [relations] of the good flock toward the truly beautiful and great shepherd; for I, for my part, admire the virtue of both in excess: the divine and lofty and truly apostolic [virtue] of the shepherd, and the obedient and tractable [nature] of the sheep, and [their] knowing how to follow worthily, and being wonderfully molded and regulated by him in truth. And [I admire] the admirable boldness toward God of the one, and [his] possessing from there the power to act out such things always, and the goodwill and faith of the others, and the [desire] to look to and receive and suffer those things purely and guilelessly, neither trafficking in the holy word and falsifying it against anyone, nor by unbelief ^D

^A and wicked envy, doing harm to the brightest and most diaphanous of works, for which also God from above, methinks, having led [two such men] from afar, worthily joined them together—having given the worthy to the worthy—and wrought a wondrous combination and harmonic symphony, so that not even one thing in any way sounded out of tune, as the discourse has already shown a little before.

But to attempt to go through everything concerning this great man part by part would be not only long and outside the time and the scope, but also among the impossible things, as the discourse has already made clear. Wherefore, gathering it together as far as possible, I shall thus outline the discourse to the end of his temporal life, or even to those few who were to bring their own course to rest after his end.

^B For he, having passed through every form of virtue—as much of speech as of action, which I have already mentioned—and having thus won approval in both the general and all the particular matters, not only so as to have kept those holy bounds and those canons in excess, if any of all men ever did, appearing out of the body while yet in the body and surpassing man, but also having become himself a rule and standard for all those after him, avoiding both the excesses and the omissions together—which is difficult to find often even in an individual among the ancients—he, being great and new and multiform in these latest and humble times, became holy so that not even those of his own time could easily in all things be equaled by or compared with him. These things he left behind to those who followed, out of the abundance of his own store, so as to be truly the most distinctive and natural signs of that great virtue and soul, and to both speak of and marvel at: such as, I say, the exceeding gentleness and humility of his soul; the being far away from all anger and wrath at all times, and enduring those who were angry at him and caused him grief with great long-suffering, and furthermore, wishing to repay them with the good things in his power, in word and deed, and in every way; the not easily receiving as it happened the things spoken against some, which is natural to almost all men, but especially to those in authority, to be prone to before others, ^C from which, along with the former, both backbiting and accusing even the guiltless, for the most part, and the erasure of love comes to those who are not sober-minded; the [attitude] toward those in high places not only being free and above every base flattery, but also at times being firm and resistant, just as on the other hand, [his attitude] toward the humble was caring and exceedingly kind and philanthropic; the endurance in temptations and the being unassailable; with regard to every human pleasure, as much of the soul alone as of the compound of both, being exceedingly unyielding and relentless; the tranquility and calmness and sweetness and grace of heart being extreme, which also having gone into an utter habit, and having been, as it were, shaped and consubstantiated by it, was pouring out ^D through the senses, as if wondrously manifesting inwardly the hidden treasure of ineffable joy; which he held to be—and to those who understood most, and to those God-bearing men who were skilled in judging such things—also thoughtful and congenial and deeply yearned for and exceeding lovely; and they honored it equal to their own heads and souls, together with that divine peace and joy with which he so brightly adorned both the inner and the outward visible man, just as I have already said. And seeing him always thoughtful and contrite, exercising himself and being sober; whence also [came] that new and supernatural stream of tears, far from any word or example of anyone.

And one called him a treasure house and store of humility, and asserted that he had never seen any monk walking in an equivalent [manner] to his humility, and this in the height and multitude of so many divine and human achievements, of which, he says, not even the parts are clearly present in those who are esteemed among us now. Another said that nothing of the things achieved by the saints was entirely lacking to the blessed one, except the having also to perform miracles; which, if he had wished, he says, would also have been easily received from God; but that was rather a prediction spoken for his sake by the Holy Spirit to that God-bearing man, as the things themselves now present to us clearly attest.

The wondrous and leading pair of those wondrous Fathers, Savvas and Germanos, those noble ones, the holy ornaments of the sacred Athos, whose God-like life and conduct we have already published in two discourses, have spoken thus concerning the great man who was still living for the life toward us, as if from one tongue: "We," they say, "do not consider it a great and soul-benefiting and saving thing merely to be with and to look upon and to converse, if it were possible entirely, with the wondrous Gregory, but also, if we had his sandals, to carry them in our hands often and to kiss and to cling to them, and [we would have considered] this the harbinger for us both of the greatest benefit and of sanctification." Such were the things they rejoiced in, concerning him who is praised by us, and such were the wondrous votes of trust that those great lanterns of discernment brought forth concerning him, so as to reveal the whole from a few tokens; or rather, they also vote, and with a bright voice almost every day they preach and teach, and all those of those God-bearing men who are still in the flesh, by words and writings, have made the delight of the tongue, and the divine joy of the soul, and the occasion of asceticism, and at once of action and contemplation, as it were, a spark concerning this great man.

For I am now going to speak part by part of the things wondrously said about him by those who are wise and diligent in this queen of cities, those who are preeminent among the hierarchs—I mean in word and virtue—and as many of the leaders of the senate, and indeed also of those who have embraced the monastic

and quiet life, these men ^A also claimed that he was the house and protector of the common Church of Christ, and a bulwark of piety, and a teacher of divine dogmas, and a guide of all that is best, so that most men attended to him in a way that exceeded what is human, and would not say that he lacked anything at all of those qualities possessed by the foremost of the theologian Fathers, but rather that he was in all things common and consonant and of one spirit and a fellow-combatant with them; and that if they had even lived at the same time, he says, they would have had him also as an ally in battle and a fellow-general and a fellow-councillor; and not only did they not deprive him of any of those things, but as if pridefully glorying in the enrolment and communion of this man; and indeed, now that he has passed on and is more purely in their company, he is celebrated brightly in the heavens and also here among us with boldness, by reason of the excellent communion and concord and agreement of the greatest and divine and truly supernatural words of his, and those of the others, as the oracles from above also bear witness, as well as that great and supernatural revelation, just as the discourse will show as it advances; this indeed is that which, when seen and heard by those who are partners and friends of this sort of heresy, kindles this strange envy and strife and war against God every day, for they consider their own worldly affairs to be God and are able to think nothing at all above these, but actually stake their life and soul, and indeed the true and only God, for the sake of these things, and stand directly against both heaven and sun; for this is the very war against the truth of piety, and against those theologians ^B that is proclaimed in the most shameful and absurd ways.

But the grace of the Spirit, having taken hold of the blessed man's psychic powers as they were worthy—and having displayed him as a God-like and new human being, if ever there was one among all men—was attuned more to his intellectual faculty, or rather, to speak more accurately, having found him to be a mind entirely and truly beyond all the minds of those who now exist, it was united and attached to him in a manner that was entirely fitting, having fashioned him into a God-like mirror and imprint of itself in a wonderful way. And it caused him, through imitation of the angels—just as the venerable prophets and theologians do—to experience and learn without being taught the reasons for the intellectual and intelligible things, which we learn by receiving them through hearing and reason, and to speak of those things for us who dwell below in a supernatural way, and to see and say things that "eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has it risen into the heart of man." ^C For which reasons, those who have understanding rightly call him a theologian and Chrysostom, and a wonder of the world, and a certain supernatural and new man. And for such a man, having become what he was, and having been shown to have such votes of approval from those who beheld him, and having been so loudly proclaimed and witnessed to many times by the vote from above, after which there is no further vote, no appeal, no other tribunal—it was entirely necessary that he attain the end of this present life, and as it is fitting for such a man. Therefore, he both attains and confirms it brilliantly, as few of all men do to one another, both in one—I mean by his wonderful life and conduct, the blessed end, and by the things of the wonderful end, the things of that blessed and godlike life.

There are some of our group, even among those who are considered to be in wisdom among them—I mean that man Atouemes, who they say was later changed for the better. They say, then, that he—even while he was still holding firmly to the war against the Church along with those of the same mind—spoke openly thus: "If I had set my mind to learn all the dogmas of our Church, and to practice this sacred philosophy to the highest degree, I would never have chosen any other teacher from among all men before this one," meaning, of course, Gregory the Great. "For neither," he says, "would, I think, any other mind, except his, contemplate these divine and sublime things so divinely and sublimely, nor speak them out and clarify them, and show them forth as if they were living and speaking, except for his tongue." And the truth is witnessed even by the enemies, so that it may have, for this very reason, the credibility it has, according to what has been said by some, and that "the light of truth shines in the darkness of the lie." For it is indeed so. Since the great grace of the Spirit, dwelling in the souls of the worthy, and using their natural powers—having been cleansed as much as possible by practice and contemplation—as a kind of underlying material, allots to everyone ^D that which is proper, and beautifies it; and it expands and spreads and increases to an extreme degree in those in whom souls according to nature are somehow fittingly and appropriately disposed, and from there it reveals and proclaims all the more those who possess it, as one person by his almsgiving, another by his extreme poverty; and one by the utmost fasting, another by an excess of simplicity and innocence; and one it proclaims and recognizes more for his love, another for his humility, even though they are not lacking in all the other goods of the faction, as I have already said.

The third year had now passed since that last return from Byzantium, when he came to the Great one; during which time, indeed, the book in four discourses was published for this Great one, at the instance of him who now rules the Universal Church, concerning him who spoke from the earth and from the belly, that philosopher and pseudo-monk, that Nikēphoros, that last and daring defamer of the Godhead and of its theologians, both I say the ancient and the new, in a manner wonderful and worthy of himself and of his words concerning the Godhead, and as it were a completion of his own struggles, having by then finished the sacred contest. But as he had entered his fourth year, he fell into a severe illness of the bowels,

^A which shortly thereafter led him away from this life. Yet he, being superior even to this, through his inclining towards God and his brilliant affection for the flock—for he loved with due merit and was marvelously loved in return by him, as I have already said—ceased not from his wonted performance of divine and lofty things: teaching, ministering the sacred rites of the divine mysteries, officiating in processions, and celebrating feasts, and through all of these refining and sanctifying his own people. But since it was necessary that even he, having been born a man, should eventually be overcome by nature, so that it might not be thought that some divine nature was feigning humanity, he was eventually overcome by the disease. Being bedridden and looking toward his departure, he again, with his wondrous tongue, spoke his final words: he discoursed wonderfully to those present about temptations and patience, demonstrating in many ways the profit to be derived from them according to the divine Scriptures, reasonings, and necessary proofs, and added discourses about life and death and the soul. Thus, he foretold his departure to all, having been instructed from above and having instructed others; he even announced the very day to his friends many days in advance, the day being after the divine liturgy and the falling-asleep of the Golden-Tongued (Chrysostom), whom the great man had already invited to himself as one like-minded, beloved, and as a fellow-dweller; for so the divine oracle, which had been previously delivered to me in dreams, indicated regarding him.

The priest of God, then, was lying there, breathing his last, pressing on towards heaven and the heavenly things, and studying and imagining nothing else at all save that which leads there. ^B Indeed, he was even whispering this very thing continuously with his tongue, thereby demonstrating to those present whither he was now setting out. For as those present attended to the final words his beautiful tongue, as I said, was whispering, they could hear nothing else from him, since no one else was approaching frequently, save for the very words of that wondrous and divine man, articulated in this way: "The things that are below, to the things that are on high." He did this frequently and often, as in some cycle and rotation, until the divine and super-celestial grace that dwelt in his heavenly soul, after dissolving the union with the abandoned clay with which it was conjoined, caused him to depart—he who had long since, in conduct and action, been marvelously severed from those things—to heaven, through the heavenly angels, as was worthy, and to the heavenly things. He had been altogether conjoined with that connatural flesh for sixty-three years, and for twelve of these he had struggled alongside it, according to the Church's wondrous stewardship, for the sake of the neighbor.

This all-working grace of the Spirit signifies even to those on the outside those extraordinary things; for it illuminated the room that held the corpse of that man with light, at the very moment of the soul's departure; it also illuminated his face, and strangely altered it by the light that remained upon it, even though it had previously wasted away ^C and through the state of death was almost completely deadened. ^D Such, too, was that brilliant and godlike vision of the great Stephen, when he was speaking about God in the midst of the council of the Jews. "Gazing upon him," it says, "they saw his face as the face of an angel." For it is of the same Spirit and the same energy that these things and those were brought about, even if those who are dark regarding the light and unlearned in wisdom are struck by these things as by those, and speak against them again, in no way imagining them to be of the Spirit, and destroying one with the other. But that radiance which appeared in the house, that is, when the soul was departing from the body, was seen by two of the Church’s spectators, men of distinction, adorned with the rank of priesthood and every virtue, one of whom belongs to the venerable catalogue of monks, and who later became the informants to the others of those things that were seen in such a supernatural way. ^D Witnesses to the supernatural radiance regarding his appearance were every race and almost every age, and simply all those whom the procession and the interment of that holy corpse summoned at that time to itself. ^D And it summoned the entire city at once, so that the holy house itself, all that was inside and all that was outside, was crowded with the multitudes. This grace remained entirely inseparable from him, just as it had from his holy soul, and so it remained also in his bones and his ashes, as the grace of the Spirit that dwelt within him remained forever inseparable, rendering his holy tomb a house of divine light, a spring of miracles, a fount of holy gifts, and a common and costless infirmary.

This, then, our discourse shall already in part declare according to the promise; for it is not the purpose of the present discourse to go through those things one by one for everyone; for how could it? And it will set forth even these things in summarized fashion, as far as it is possible, and without any circumlocution or logical amplification, avoiding both length and satiety.

A certain monk, one of those who had attained the priesthood and was practicing ascetism in one of the monasteries in Thessalonica, fell into a severe illness: the illness was a pain in the head, so violent that it immediately threatened death. But he escaped death, for the time being, through medical care, as it seemed, but by no means the pain in the head; rather, it would come on in recurring cycles, at first once every month, then as time went on, twice a month, and thrice, and often, and more frequently, and at the same time more intensely and painfully. A seventh year was passing in the midst of these things, and the affliction, ever progressing for the worse, caused the sufferer to appear to those around him to be raving and insensible, with the strangeness and the unaccustomed nature of his cry, and it threatened death more violently again, despising every medical science and pharmacy. What followed from this? The monk despaired of life here, but having become, in his mind, already a citizen of the life to come, and looking toward his departure as if it were already coming upon his head, he uttered with sighs and lamentations the words of repentance and conversion to God, and the

^A salvation of his soul, calling to mind at the same time his past negligence and faults, and that he was ending his life without having found any person to share his grief or to labor with him for the healing of his soul. Then, mindful of the great man and of his holiness and great pastoral care and oversight—for he was also among his acquaintances and intimates—he felt that he had no advocate for his final departure to God. For he said that had he partaken of his life-giving words and sacred prayers, he would now be holding them as a protective shield and an arsenal against all things. Having said these things, the elder, as though he had bewailed himself over these matters, fell asleep, and sleep immediately brought forth the following vision.

“I imagined,” he said, “that I was standing inside the innermost sanctuary of the marvelous Demetrius, and I saw the great chief priest standing at the divine table, as was his custom, ministering the mysteries; and I sought to be deemed worthy of a sacred prayer from him. But he at first did not seem to turn at all to my request, but rather seemed to be preoccupied with the mysteries and the sacred table, and attentive to those things. After a little while, however, he turned toward me, and placing his right hand upon my pavilion—where indeed the whole pain seemed to be at that time—he inscribed for me the shape of the divine cross with his fingers. Thence, oil suddenly flowed forth, and it seemed to anoint my face.” Such were the dream and that sacred vision.

The man immediately arose, and was altogether delivered from death and from that pain and from all those grievous things, and beyond all hope, so that not even a trace of them remained. To God and to His servant he offered great thanks.

^B There was another of the inhabitants of the city, not of the obscure ones, but of those of noble birth and highly distinguished, living with his wife and children and managing his household, who was held fast by a chronic pain; this the sons of the physicians call such-and-such. This pain, having grown over time, no longer yielded at all to medical methods or to drugs, just as it had previously been proven to be resistant by the violent nature of the pain, by the natural passages being completely blocked, and by the waste from the stomach in no wise being permitted to pass. As a result, the physicians who were present at that time said that a certain malignant matter had gathered and hardened into the nature of stone, ^D thus obstructing the passage. For already six months had passed as the man was terribly tormented by the pain, and nearing the end of his life by the evening of that day. Those who were related by blood, and others by companionship and acquaintances, were sitting by and suffering with him, as is the custom in such circumstances, and were bringing the divine [man] into the midst—the one who, through his word, was then manifesting the great energy of his miracles.

And because many approaching his tomb are seen to be suddenly delivered from difficult illnesses and chronic sufferings, and the sufferer, immediately becoming aware of what was being spoken, was calling out the saint to pity with tears and piteous cries, saying, “You are powerful, O man of God, being as you are a most accurate imitator of Christ, even if I am not present at your tomb even now, like others, as my disease and [the lateness of] the hour prevent me from visiting and being healed and delivered from the bitter pain and the expected death.” Speaking these and such things in the interval, he fell asleep, and Gregory, the great one, was immediately present in the appearance of an elder and a monk, one of his own, being called by the same name as Gregory, and having accompanying him a monk and a deacon who had been with him in the past; they, I say, happened to be acquaintances of the sufferer himself. When Gregory asked him in a friendly manner, “What is it that is grieving you, and what is the cause of the disturbance and such turmoil and necessity?” “Do you not see me,” says the sufferer, “being held fast by the most bitter pain? And while I am being suddenly deprived of life by this, [I am] alas! leaving my dearest ones bereft of all protection.” “But do not fear,” he says, “O man, such things for the present; for it will go well with you, and according to your prayer, after a little while, everything [will be] for the aching parts, with this of the present [issue] being applied.” And as he said this, he took a portion of the sacred vestment—which as I said, he appeared to bring forth from his bosom—inscribed with nine golden crosses, and applied it to the part that was suffering. The deacon who was following him also carried a cross made of wax, and applied it to the parts of the sufferer in the rear, attaching it to the bone that is above the seat—a sacred [remedy] this, the sons of the physicians say. And the one who had so wondrously worked by divine Spirit was gone from the eyes of the sufferer; but the other, once the sleep broke, feels his stomach throb, and the disease-causing matter was wondrously emptied, so that he stunned all who were present at the sight; the affliction immediately fled, and the sufferer, free not only of the expected death and that chronic pain once and for all, but also being some[what] robust and strong, went to the tomb of the great one, by himself proclaiming with a bright voice the supernatural nature of the miracle to all, and offering thanks to God and to His servant.

The leader of the sacred chants and melodies of the church in Thessalonica, and the leader and chief of the choir of those chanting—whom custom calls a Domestikos—a man distinguished in such matters both by time and experience and nature and art and everything contributing to these things, and acting as a teacher of those who are, and carrying off the prize in all things—this man, having been seized by a disease, the beginnings of which were from a certain malignant and sharp matter, [remained] for almost an entire year completely immobile.

^A And the former, which had been pressing against him, ^B was seen to be living and moving all at once, and performing its proper functions; for immediately upon entering the house and touching the pen, he was seen writing healthily and without fault, and moving his hand to his limbs, just as before, in good rhythm, and loudly proclaiming God as his savior, and the great servant of Him who was lying on the couch. But as for the matter that had been resisting—the living and moving [fingers] now being seen all at once—due to the cold diet and the other attentions of the physicians, as the material was exhausted and gradually altered, the part of it that remained, unworked and indigestible, being driven as it were, fled to the extremities of the body, and both the hands and the feet of the leader of the chanters were left terribly [afflicted] for the rest of the time. Many days passed from that time, and as the morbid matter was driven from there as well, the other parts and members were clearly freed from the ailment, but to the three first fingers of the right hand—I mean the thumb and those after it—a portion of that morbid matter remained and adhered, rendering those [fingers] idle and dead to every activity whatsoever; much time passed, and the ailment did not yield at all, but they remained in that upright posture, unbending and stiff, and immovable to any natural motion. Yet to him who saw his hand dead against all expectation, it seemed a dread and very terrible thing; for he had already despaired of healing and of all medical art and method; and it grieved him no less, if not even more, that he was unable to use his skill, as he had before, nor to write, nor to loosen his limbs due to the paralysis of his right hand. Wherefore, having condemned all human art and help and surgery and drugs and everything at once, the sufferer fled directly to the divine court, seeking thence the true help, setting forth as powerful ambassadors and mediators to Christ the servants of that [great bishop].

Night fell after that prayer, and Gregory, the Great One, immediately and above all others was present to him in his sleep, miraculously announcing the divine visitation and healing that would occur a little later; for the sufferer seemed to be lingering beside the great temple of the Wisdom of God, in the right parts thereof, and to encounter this great high priest, where his tomb is established. And he seemed to stroke his head in a fatherly and genuine way, and to speak the sweetest and most desirable words: "Depart," said the leader of the chanters, "from now on, and it shall be well with you hereafter." And as the dawn of the day was already shining, he arose, went hurriedly to the temple, reached the holy tomb of the Great One, and falls before it, bathing it sufficiently with tears of repentance and supplication; now confessing his sin and his previous boldness of tongue against the [Saint]—for he had arrived, as he himself said, having sinned such things against him—and now again begging for pardon and the healing of his ailment, and constantly rubbing his right hand against the stone of the tomb. And having prayed for a sufficient time and spoken these things, as he was also arriving back at his house, and was returning to himself—oh, your marvelous and supernatural grace toward Gregory, O Christ!—his hand was naturally active, and those dead and immovable fingers ^C were seen to be living and moving all at once, and performing their proper functions; for immediately upon entering the house and touching the pen, he was seen writing healthily and without fault, and moving his hand to his limbs, just as before, in good rhythm, and loudly proclaiming God as his savior, and the great servant of him.

A certain man among those who work the royal purple had been suffering for a long time from an unknown cause of an internal stagnation of the stomach's waste, with a loss of appetite for food and drink for many days, and the sufferer was in a crisis, being already deprived of all the necessities of life. And so he approaches one of the royal physicians, asking for some remedy and treatment from his art; the latter offers a medicine he prepared. The sufferer, having taken it from him for the discharge of the stomach, by a providence surely better than the physician's judgment, offers it to himself: for the one had ordered him to drink the whole; but the other, being at home, said rather that he ought to drink not the whole, but the half, and thus having taken a test of it, [he proceeded] to go further; he uses, therefore, the half. But the discharge, having started from there, was seen to be so potent and unstoppable that in a little while it began to consume the flesh of the sufferer, and to surround him with the ailment of dysentery. The physician, therefore, who had mixed that medicine whether through ignorance or forgetfulness, sensing the evil, was of every kind, contriving to check the discharge with contrary medicines; but it did not yield, appearing stronger than every artifice, and at the last threatening death to the sufferer. Wherefore, despairing of all help from there, he flees to God through prayer, and to His great servant, saying: "I know, man of God, both present in life and departed, that you are able to do many and very great things in Christ. Be therefore a helper to me in this hour, and rescue me by your intercession from these impending dangers and from bitter death." After these words and the prayer, the sufferer falls asleep, and he sees in his dreams the monk who had long served the high priest, saying such things to him: "Having reached the house of the high priest, place his holy omophorion on your loins, and you will not miss your aim."

The sufferer, still held by sleep, seemed to go to the house of the high priest and to seek that holy rag according to the instructions, and since he did not have what he sought, to return back to the monk who had given the order, and having told him of the failure, [the monk], having taken him by the hand, led him no longer to that house, but rather to his tomb, and there, having taken the holy omophorion in his hands, placed it on the loins of the invalid. And the one went away immediately after those things; but the invalid immediately shook off the sleep, and, judging the small house of the high priest from what had been seen ^D

and even the stone lying upon ^A it to be manifesting the holy omophorion, he, still possessed by the suffering, nevertheless came to the sacred coffin, and having rubbed himself against the stone, immediately departed from there rid of both death and disease.

He, this great physician of souls and bodies, also heals this woman. For one had been wrestling for a very long time with all sorts of diseases; and because of the chronic bedridden state, the flesh was being eaten away, and a multitude of worms were ready to devour the sores. But not he alone, but also his yoke-fellow together with his most beloved children; and the physician's house was not a surgery, as it should have been, but rather it was a lodging for the sick. But this common physician, this divine one, I say, Gregory, comes to them, and that too in a very philanthropic way, self-called. And how did he come? He appeared to the daughter in her sleep, seeing the great man in the house, and he appeared to her herself also falling down before him to entreat for the life of her own father. And he, gently attending to the request, ordered the basin to be brought in, in which it was his custom to perform the holy rites annually; and this being brought by one of the holy deacons, the hierarch ordered the child to wash the hands and feet of the sick man in the water. And he performed what was commanded, and the man immediately returned to nature and health, having washed himself.

Regarding the child who so miraculously saw this, as also regarding the mother, the same request was being made, and she was entreating for health from the teacher; but he did not allow her to hear from him, saying to those who were present, "For the present, it is sufficient," but saying that in a short time those things would also come. What followed? The girl reported to her parents after her sleep what she had seen; the father, immediately hearing it, orders it to be brought to the bath; he puts aside the ichor along with the worms; then, departing from there, he comes to the coffin of the great man; and two days having passed, suddenly he is pricked in the belly, and he goes to the discharge of the superfluities of the passage previously blocked for days; and having come to the house, he undergoes such an evacuation that even those skilled in his own profession, for that reason also, despaired of his life, having expected him to abandon his natural life, and not long after, because of the long duration of the disease and the weakness from there, with the great and sudden evacuation added to it. But, the disease-producing matter having been thus miraculously emptied from him as if it were waste, by the holy basin and those new washings of his hands and feet, he was immediately above the disease, not only having abandoned the strength that was present, but having acquired even what was not present, ^B so that he could easily mount a horse like a healthy man, and go about the city as before and practice his art, and heal many, but not as before, and [having] a woman among the others; for to her he even forbids living, having found her [suffering from the same] disease. But the common physician and Father did not belie his promise, but he heals her too after him, and giving due honor to the head, and saving the body of those together, so that the man of God might be whole even here, according to what has been said.

A certain woman of the well-born and respectable ladies falls into a long and heavy disease; after which also a flow of some evil humor having flowed down her right hand, renders it entirely dry and useless. Or rather, the hand was not merely useless and inactive—for that would have been the least of evils—but it was also a burdensome weight to the sufferer, hanging down somewhere and held by itself, but stretched out straight in a sideways manner, unbending, inflexible towards every motion and movement; a shameful thing to look upon, and an enemy to the whole body. The children of physicians, therefore, were ordering her to warm up the thus-chilled hand with the hottest and most active of medicines and to heal it; but she, yielding nothing to these, was frequently anointing the suffering hand with myrrh and rather with the relics of saints and the holy oils from there, and was expecting the help and the healing from there. And since she also heard of the frequent miracles of the marvelous Gregory every day, at first she did not even deign to believe the things being said; not only not having the proper opinion about him from of old, but also using her tongue wickedly against him, such as are the ways of these vain, fickle, and light-headed women, of whom Constantine’s city nurtures many among us, who, along with the so-called nobility, acquire empty-headedness and divisions and schisms and the licentiousness of the tongue and a certain faction about themselves and strive to possess a reputation and a shameful name; such are they clearly, and why even another [kind]? And she [was such] perhaps out of feminine simplicity and ignorance, if indeed we might give any room and pardon at all to these in such matters, and this while so many and so great teachers are present. At first, then, out of unbelief, as I said, she did not deign to turn her mind at all to the things being bruited about the great man; but since the energy of the miracles, going all around the city, frequently beat upon it and her ears, and the suffering of the right hand was pushing her from within by night and by day, and there was absolutely no healing appearing from anywhere, she is driven and unwilling by necessity, and she flees to the great man with the others, trying him rather than believing in him; for she said that it was of absolute necessity that he should have been able, or even being able to provide such things, he had not willed to give them to those disposed as she was—a thing which would have been ^C just and, considering the saving word, directly [so]. But the disciple of Christ, he who makes the sun rise upon the evil and the good, and sends rain upon the just and the unjust, was, according to Christ, merciful even here; wherefore, as she approached the woman, and as she was entreating with ^D

^A that doubt of those thoughts of which I spoke, and as she rubbed her hand upon the stone lying by the tomb, first she heals those fingers which were already dead and motionless, so that she was able to move them and join them together and form the sign of the cross with them, because she was, clearly, in the presence of the divine temple and the holy icons, as is the custom, offering her veneration; then, having returned home immediately after three days, the whole right hand is healed when night fell. And the hand became sound and active from that moment for the woman, according to nature—O, the wonders of God!—and she was healed at once of the grievous passion of the soul, and of her wicked unbelief, which was far more grievous than the passions of the body, and she sang hymns to God and brilliantly proclaimed his servant; and it was necessary that even those who were disbelieving these things should likewise be overwhelmed, for the time being, and convinced.

^B To a certain elderly and poor widow, a sickly discharge had been flowing from above, from the shoulder of her left arm, and rendered it idle. The woman’s affliction was therefore twofold, and because of this, unbearable. For at first, just as if it had begun from some small origins, it did not entirely keep her from her customary distaff, and the pains still seemed tolerable; but as time went on for her, being deprived of the use of her hands altogether, and along with it the means of her livelihood, it caused a grievous and unbearable pain. Medicine, having brought forward most things to avert the flow, so that even cautery was used as a last resort upon the shoulder, as if it had appeared from some source and fountain, achieved nothing more than that it added to the pain from that point on, and rendered the suffering in the arm more severe. Thus, as the miserable woman was afflicted for a long time, and was making terrible scenes and at the same time calling together her neighbors with many and very great cries, they, having felt pity for the sufferer, since they had no other way to help, urged her to go with speed, along with the others, to the coffin of the Great One, and to ask for healing from him alone. The sufferer is persuaded by those good counselors and, having approached the holy tomb and having prayed and entreated much as the night was already approaching, she departs again to her home. And the bedding and the floor held her as usual, subjected to the previous pains; but the great healer of the sick, having begun the healing in a somewhat witty manner, does not immediately take away the pain, although it was possible, but by drawing it out gently and bit by bit, as if to provide the sufferer a more evident sensation, he removes it for the time being from the shoulder and the upper arm, though he still allows the irritation to linger about the elbow and the forearm. But the woman, not understanding anything at all, and sensing as is natural the more violent course of the passion, as it was pushed into a tight corner, began to cry out against the healer and to speak ill of him with her tongue, just as if she were at the doctors who treat ^C by surgery, though they are for a time insensible, as if he, the source of this worse pain, had become the cause of it. But those companions and neighbors, gathering together again, counseled her to go there once more and seek the remainder of the healing. And she went off again, and fell with pain before the wonder-working coffin of the Great One, complaining of the same things as before, as it were, and whispering the murmurings against him; but he, with humanity, immediately applies what was lacking and grants complete healing to the woman, not in dreams nor in words, as indeed he did to others for a long time, but while she was awake and in the very act, as if pulling out the pain and that chronic disease from the tips of her fingers like a fine thread for a considerable time. And the woman, having reached her home from there, was not only free from pain and suffering, but having regained her hand, which was, according to nature, fit and active for any task whatsoever, she glorifies God and his servant with a grateful tongue through everything.

And to two nuns, one advanced in age and already an old woman, and one in her prime near her, each having suffered an effusion of the eyes and an impairment of hearing, since both approached the tomb of the Great One asking for a release from each passion, he kindly cures the deafness of the one, and the blindness of the old woman, so that the one received back the former visual perception and operation of the eyes, and the other the perfect power of hearing according to nature; and at the same time they hymn the benefactor and healer, as they received back, so swiftly and clearly, what were as if dead—the first and most necessary of the senses—a kind of re-fashioning and resurrection.

Nor did the Great One refrain from the benefactors among our Thracians, but he numerates these also, with humanity, among his own kinsmen and fellow countrymen—I speak of the protector and savior of the truly great Thessalonica, Demetrius, the great among martyrs and wonder-workers, being himself ^D wonderfully imitated by him. For a certain man, an immigrant from the city of Orestias, which Hadrian later rebuilt and gave it the name bearing his own, being adorned with white hair and with wisdom and with the dignity of his life, and being already himself one of the citizens of Thessalonica, was, even before the Great One stepped into the Church, devoted to piety and to the love and zeal for the most beautiful things; and he was a friend, from hearing only of his good deeds, and breathing with zeal on behalf of the truth, which was in his time being treated unjustly. And he was often publicly rebuking those who were acting seditiously against him, and reproaching them for that rejection of the chief priest, so that he often stirred up that swarm against himself, and their leader would devise and think up terrible things to do against him—which he would have carried out to the end, had not God put a stop to that tyranny and that sedition from above. But when the chief priest also stepped into the city, and the Church [received] the...

fiancé of ^A herself, he was introduced to him by his usual friends, and he, who had been a friend even before seeing him, was no less [a friend] to him and to the truth, as I have already mentioned. Having tasted the sweetest streams of his teaching, he was conquered completely by that love, and was bound all the more by its bond, and in soul he was inseparable. But he had also heard of that brilliant zeal of his against the seditionists and of the man's stand for the truth, and he praised what was fitting before others, and added such a prayer at the end: "May God alone worthily recompense you, O friend, for your remarkable zeal for the truth and for the good, and for the great firmness of your soul! For whatever gratitude might come from us would be something small and not proportional, being as it is of human nature and ability." And these things [were said] then, and they were not far from some divine inspiration and prophecy, as the rest of the discourse will show. But after a long time had passed, this good friend of his fell into such a malady: four boils in total appeared all at once on his left hand; they were very large in volume, some of them hard and resistant in their condition, and the tips of the swelling were rough and thorny, so that the palm could not naturally be folded into a fist, being completely unsuited, as I said, for touch, with the roughness and thorns of the fingers. Besides these, it was also otherwise unseemly and ugly—a disfigurement to the whole body. An eighth year of these passed, and there was no hope of a cure anywhere. But as he became an eyewitness and hearer every day of the miracles performed at the tomb of the great [Gregory], he approached the tomb himself with the others, and after prostrating himself, he stood there, placing his affected hand and rubbing it against the stone, while looking through the icon at the divine Gregory as if he were alive, and whispering in a friendly and elegant manner with great goodwill and begging: ^D "Now that you enjoy a clearer and purer boldness before God, O you true friend of Christ, you are able to grant requests to those in need, standing as a mediator and interceding for them directly. It is time, therefore, for you to use this boldness and power before God for me and for this affliction of my hand, and to render God propitious and a savior to me, having remembered in time your own words and that promise which you made then to us unworthy ones, while you were still alive in the body: that God, you said, will worthily recompense your zeal and your firmness for the truth and the good." These things [were said] in an elegant way, as I said, and as if with smiling lips, by the man who was begging out of an abundance of longing and faith. One of those who was waiting there for the sake of a cure, having come from a foreign land, a monk by rank, barbarian in speech and customs, but very good and diligent in character, cast his eye on him ^B and, suspecting his manner of prayer as if it had not been done properly, nor with haste and contrition, first asked the man what on earth he was suffering. And when that man, extending his hand, showed him the disease, and [said] that he was suffering most miserably and bearing the worst of things, the monk said again, "Are you weaving your entreaty to the saint not with tears and lamentations, but to be approaching him in this way, acting affected and effeminate, and as if playing?" But he, having taken [his meaning], said, "Father, this man," he said, pointing to the saint, "knows with what thoughts, mind, and disposition I am asking for his help and healing." After saying this, the man said to him, "I return home, and as the night comes on, I turn to sleep as usual, remaining in the memory of the great one and in the prayer of the mind towards him." But when the night was going toward dawn and the time called me to the holy church and the divine hymns as usual, I rose from my bed and, having asked the maidservant for water so that I might wash my face with my right hand for a while—for the other had long been idle for such things, as the story has previously said—since, while washing, I touched [it] with my left hand, as was my custom, I find that disease—oh, your new miracles, Christ!—having fled the hand all at once, so that not even a trace of it remained, and the palm moving without hindrance and folding into a fist according to nature. Having noticed these things, I immediately asked the maidservant for a light, and having called my wife, and shown the miracle to both her and those with us, we were praising God with astonishment and his great servant. What followed? The man approaches the tomb of the saint again, offering the gratitude for this great benefit with his former demeanor and elegant character. But the monk who had faulted him was looking on again, and again he was chiding him in the same way, accusing him—as he thought—of self-indulgence and disdain. But he immediately stretched out the healed hand and, by his silence, proclaimed the miracle. Upon seeing this, the monk was both astonished and began to applaud, and with a loud voice was making [everyone] glorify God and magnify his servant. Then, also looking at the icon of the saint, he said, "I, O man of God, was loitering here at your divine tomb with certain doubtful thoughts, and for this reason, as it seems, I was failing in my request and my healing, and I was already thinking of returning to my own people. But now I will not let go of you or your gifts—no, by your labors for virtue and these great miracles! But here indeed I will remain and spend time, until I myself, through you and obviously through your intercession, obtain the same from God." And he did not miss the mark, having judged well and prayed; but he obtains [the cure] very quickly, and having received the healing as he longed for, he returned in haste to his own people. And this is evident from the fact that, from that time, that same man who had previously been healed of his hand, every day...

to one approaching my grave and worshipping, and rendering the thanks due to him, that monk is nowhere to be seen; it is clear that he has ^A obtained healing and has departed to his friends. For how, he says, could he—who yesterday swore never to depart until he obtained his prayer and the thing sought—have left them so quickly?

But as for his own Thessalonica and its inhabitants, or the surrounding region, and indeed those from abroad—does the wonderful Gregory, who is so wonderfully both physician and savior and guardian to those who call upon him in need, treat those from further away, who are strangers and far off, with contempt? Far from it. But knowing that the Church of Christ is one, throughout the whole earth, to which he himself, even while still living his life, presided with equal honor, he likewise, ^B in imitation of Him, laid down his soul for her likewise; and there, too, to those who call upon him, he is seen to be savior and deliverer and physician of incurable diseases. And the Thessalians and Illyrians are truthful witnesses of this word, and those from there who bring his wonders and recount them. And what is there to say? Where they also paint icons of him, and frequently celebrate his feast with great faith and with a longing made manifest in their soul, and hasten to raise up a temple, as to one of the Apostles and Fathers, and a herald of piety, and protector of the Church, and teacher and guardian of her orthodox dogmas, proclaiming the great one with much wonder; there ^C all, by turns, as if in his own fatherland, imitating the Samaritans—the foreigners and those lowly ones—and the faithful Canaanite, and as many of that company as bettered the great Jerusalem in faith toward Christ, and the pride and empty vanity and envy of the scribes and Pharisees within it. And I fear, I greatly fear, lest those words of the Master, spoken fearfully in the last times, be said even toward this city: "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to you" (Matt. xxiii, 37). And that, "Many shall come from the East and the West, and shall recline with Abraham and Isaac, but the sons of the kingdom shall be cast out" (Matt. viii, 1). ^D For which reason, this imitator of Christ quickly stands by those who believe so brilliantly, and fulfills their requests, just as we have said before, from which it is necessary for us to mention just one or two things.

To a certain woman of the nobility and of seemly conduct, Zoe by name, a sharp pain occurred in her entrails, pressing and twisting them so severely that channels of blood were poured out from them downward every day. It was the fifth year that the woman was suffering so heavily, and [by then] no art, though utilizing very much [remedy] each day, was accomplishing anything at all, so that they had entirely despaired of life for the one lying there; yet she had not endured for such an interval of time, her flesh being consumed throughout in this way, had she not possessed a robust and vigorous body, and had she not possessed strong appetites for nourishment, and thence the power of nature [had not lasted] to be pitted against such a struggle of disease. But it is overcome little by little by the length of time, and [the woman] was bedridden and almost immobile from that time on, for two whole years following the previous ones. And as the report of the miracles of the great Gregory was being raised up brilliantly every day, as many as I speak of among them, and as many as are done paradoxically at the great Thessalonica; since the sick woman was, of those spoken of, in perception, she faithfully flees to the divine power acting in him, and having called the presbyters of the Church, according to the divine oracles, obviously, she prepares them to perform first a holy prayer of oil, and then at the end of this, to offer prayer and supplication on her behalf to the divine Gregory; with this being performed by the presbyters customarily, since she herself was not able to stand or sing along with those praying and chanting on her behalf, being bedridden and immobile, she was lying there and fervently beseeching the saint, and was faithfully calling out for his grace and help. And, O your paradoxical works, Christ, and wonders! Though her flesh had been consumed for such a time, and she had become a certain paralyzed and almost immobile woman, not after a day, not after an interval of a small hour, but immediately, while they were still praying and chanting, she suddenly arises from the bed, with all watching, sound in body, with her flesh restored, and not even a trace in herself of that chronic suffering and diseased state, so that it struck those watching and those hearing with astonishment beyond nature to possess the miracle, and to possess nothing less of that which had been worked before supernaturally by Christ Himself upon the paralytic—whether one speaks of the one in Capernaum, or the one at the sheep-pool—except that there He did it by Himself, but here by Gregory, the disciple and friend, and likewise raised up the sick woman from the bed and the chronic suffering suddenly.

Thence the most God-beloved and superiors of those there, and especially those who belong to the priesthood, coming together, set up a holy icon for Gregory, as I have already said, and celebrate a bright and public feast on the day of his repose, and hasten to build a temple for him as for a bright disciple of Christ. But they—having waited for the greatest of synods and for common votes, so that they might proclaim him, for which both time and effort and anxiety and a great many human things exist

^A and soft, and such as never before. When the night was near dawn, and the morning prayer and psalmody were being performed by the monks, I myself also went to the temple, supported by a staff; a marvel to those who saw me suddenly, and such as no one would have even expected. And when, having been questioned by the monks, I recounted the miracle and the cause of the new healing, I caused those who heard it to be even more amazed and filled with wonder. Eight days passed after this, and, as I was returning completely to my ancient health and condition, I went to that divine temple where indeed the icon of the wonderful Gregory is sacredly established; and having worshipped and fallen down, and having rendered the due thanksgiving, I returned again to the hostel of our own brethren.

But it was necessary that the prayer and the covenants made to the new physician be fulfilled. "The time," I said to myself, "is already near the winter solstice, and because of this [the road] is steep for travel and difficult, especially for old men like me; therefore, the path leading to Thessalonica must be left alone for the time being, as the season does not permit it, as I said. But it is possible, in another way, to fulfill the promise made to the great one, and thus not break the covenants: I shall gather the elders of the church, and indeed the fellow monks of the same order, and having performed a common feast for the great one, and having celebrated fittingly, thus we shall render both to God the debt, and to His servant the due thanksgiving at once with the honor." ^B Ephraim, then, having pondered these things to himself and having spoken to those accompanying him, was already looking to the things of the feast, and ordered the servants to prepare it most luxuriously and brilliantly. But these things did not seem good to the Author of the festival; nor did He wish the miracle to be defined by those things alone and not proceed further, but rather to travel and be proclaimed and [carry] the grace far away, so that even through these things, as indeed through the others, God might be glorified everywhere. And the manner was such: not yet had that day come to an end when the monk became seized by the greatest shivering and a fierce fever. The swelling of the foot ^C followed these and pains, as if from another beginning, in no way less than the previous ones. And the sufferer, immediately understanding the cause of the affliction, confessed that he had sinned against the great one, having through carelessness falsified the covenants made to him, and with very many supplications he again begged for forgiveness and promised the quickest fulfillment of what had been promised; to which, indeed, recovery followed remarkably, and the dreaded state was dissolved again on that very same day. And after a short interval, Ephraim was so robust, as to both his foot and his entire body, that he was able even to use his own feet to go to the city of the great one, to worship the holy reliquary, and most joyfully to embrace it, and thus in the church, just as I previously mentioned, as if inspired, to proclaim the greatest miracles of the great one.

The things concerning Tzimisces from Beroea, the great...

one, embraced the right word of piety, and having become a friend of it and of Gregory, the great protector of it, instead of an enemy, he armed it ^A against the adversaries, and immediately revealed himself to be a manifest enemy of the evil error of Barlaam and Akindynos. Hence, having committed to the fire all the books and writings concerning the right dogma and all those of its champions, he confessed the sound faith unswervingly, and after some time, having been released from the things here, he departs well to God.

If we omit these new miracles from the discourse, would we not ^D diminish the common interest of the Church along with the discourse? To the extent that that man was an enemy of it from above, and became a friend and disciple for these own reasons, and being well and genuinely disposed toward it in this way, he departs at the end to God. Let those things, then, be told in brief, and let them be brought as if before the eyes, both to the faithful and to the unfaithful alike, and especially to the latter.

He was one of those who were well-born and prudent, concerning whom this man ^B had thought poorly and unworthily. For he had long ago been a student of Akindynos—that man who is perishing—in his homeland of Beroea, and having been taught some small preliminary elements of grammar by him, but having later drunk the whole evil and muddy cup of the heresies from him, he was another Akindynos, clearly in his impiety. Although he had often heard from the wonderful Gregory while he was still alive in Thessaloniki, and indeed in Constantinople, and from us and the Fathers and teachers there concerning divine energy and grace, he had remained ^C long insensible to those sacred words, and having voluntarily put forward resistance and contention and falsehood against the truth, so as even to write and compose speeches supposedly against piety, he was—to speak apostolically—ignorant, both in what he said and concerning what he asserted, just like his own initiator. But indeed, the divine right hand was destined to transform even him at the very end through these great miracles of Gregory, and—what is wonderful—simultaneously to heal his soul through physical benefits also; for it came about in this way.

The man had a male child; a disease attacked him and pressed toward death. Therefore, since his life was despaired of by all, he lay already breathing his last. The father, however, as if stunned by grief, was withdrawing, somehow turning away from the sight of the child and from looking at him as he was being separated from his soul. And sitting by himself somewhere, and placing his right hand upon his knees, and again his head upon his right hand—such are indeed the habits and postures of mourners—he was now whispering to himself, "If Gregory were truly a worker of miracles, as they say, and able to provide such things, he would have shown this even in our case, having saved the child from death and from the disease that is endangering him."

While he was pondering these things with a certain violent grief, and testing rather than beseeching, a sleep suddenly came upon him due to his great distress. And the dream revealed the divine Gregory to him—o the strange miracle!—clothed in his sacred vestment, and humanely speaking to him, who had not even prayed, nor even believed until then, saying: "We have come, as you see, since you yourself have called us." The man immediately shook off that short sleep, and having come to the child who was already in danger, he found him, by the divine power of the one who stood by, miraculously superior not only to the expected death, but also to that heavy disease. This, miraculously—

A short time passed after the man's death, and the aforementioned child, having again become possessed by a heavy disease, lay awaiting death ^B in the same way. And since all human hope had been taken away, and help was nowhere, the mother takes refuge again through prayer to the familiar physician, and through her grief begs for divine help from there. And he was present immediately, not hesitating or delaying; and standing by the woman as she was sleeping, "Take courage," he says, "woman; for your child will not die." And the word was immediately followed by the deed; and along with the expected death, the disease also departed immediately, and the sick one returned to health.

Let a third miracle of the great one, which happened in the house of this very Tzimisces, be added in succession, so that we might even better know how the imitator of Christ richly rewards those who were formerly enemies, now that they have become his friends. A disease befalls the sister of his wife, and the disease fearsomely threatened death. Having despaired of all human help, the sister knew that she must take refuge in divine help alone. And at an unseasonable hour of the night, having gone out of the house alone—as it happened, driven by the love for her sister ^C and by the greatness of the affliction—she was passing through the middle of the great city, as if intoxicated, so as even to provide to those meeting her on the way the appearance of someone mad and deranged. She went to that venerable monastery of the monks, which they call of the Chora from of old, whether [meaning] the Land of the living, that is, Christ, or the Land of the uncontained, I mean the Virgin and Mother of God herself. And having prayed at length to Christ, and having interceded for her sister with many tears, she returns to the house again. Since death was gradually approaching and was undoubtedly overtaking the woman, the sister was again calling for Gregory, and with him and through him the great power of Christ. He was at once present, following Christ, and standing by the woman who had already turned to sleep, "We have come to you," he says, "as you see, since you have also called us, having anticipated [us]; only know this, too," he says, "that your sister will not die for the present." When the woman asked, "And who ^D is this, whom you yourself are following?" The holy Gregory, having come to the Chora, said, "It is the common Lord of all, Christ, who dwells in that monastery of the Chora." These things the woman, in her sleep, having been initiated...

rises full of wonder; and having seen those following mystical and divine words, she magnifies Christ with her sister, and proclaims his great servant. ^C

Having made mention of one of the many miracles concerning this great man, and having placed as it were a golden crown upon these preceding things, I shall bring the discourse to a close, having yielded the greater part to these our learned men who are wondrously interpreting and writing these things from above, and above all others, most especially to my brother, who, with an abundance of discourse and wisdom, is writing those things in a lofty manner—from whom we too have received the aforementioned things, and have connected them to the discourse as far as it is possible, so that we might not seem to grieve anyone by leaving them incomplete. ^B It is as follows: A certain monk of the monastery of the great Athanasius—of whom we have already made mention many times—a man who had chosen the entirely solitary and hesychastic life, and who, except for one or two people, was altogether unseen and unacquainted with almost all, was greatly praying, by night and by day, for God to reveal to him the truth concerning the divine Gregory, what his end was, and who of those who had pleased God alongside him are now there with him. To him, praying for a long time, such a vision appeared one of the nights. He seemed to be present in the great city of Constantine, and to be standing within the temple of the great God-Sophia, even though he had never traveled there at all, and had never even seen that place with his own eyes. And he saw a synod of holy Fathers sitting in the midst, in the center of the temple. ^D There was the great Basil together with Gregory, and John the golden-tongued, and Gregory of Nyssa again, and Cyril the wise, and with these and after these the rest of the multitude of the holy theologians. The one who was seeing this, being eager to pay mind to those who were conversing, had nothing more to learn from the words and the subject matter that were set before them. But since they seemed to be at the end of their words, and it was necessary, as is the custom, to conclude them with some decision, then the monk heard all of those who were seated together say that it was impossible for the authority to be brought forth by them, nor for those who had received it to ratify what was present, unless Gregory of Thessalonica, that is, the president, were also present at the synod and in the vote. And immediately one of the attendants is sent to call him to that holy synod; and having gone to him, he returns after a little while, having said that it was impossible for anyone to approach him now and converse, as he was standing beside the imperial throne, and was speaking alone with the emperor alone. They, however, once again commanded him to go, and to wait for the end of the imperial conversation, and thus, having encountered Gregory, to speak to him what they said. He departs again, and having remained according to what was commanded, and having taken a suitable time, he reveals all those things to Gregory, and how it is "impossible," he says, "for the decisions to be ratified by the synod while he himself is not present." Having learned these things, he comes to the synod. They, having seen him approaching, all rise, and having received him with such great kindness as one could describe, they conduct him to the middle, to the head and the peerless and venerable triad of theologians, and seat him; and thus they bring the aforementioned vote and authority to bear upon the matters decided, or rather, they make manifest in the best way, for the glory of God and the common Church of Christ, through themselves and now, the things that were previously decreed and ratified, both by their own words and by his. For the words of all the theologians together to Gregory were those, with a certain holy thanksgiving and ineffable joy and delight, because all the things that had been theologized by them, according to their different causes and times, he himself, having gathered them all into one, had now in these last times, by divine power and grace, joined well, and worked out, and having given them strength through himself by the divine Spirit, had wondrously routed the new heresies, and had made his own words as it were a summary and a holy unfolding of those holy words. These things, he says, both all and each of the theologians together, having seemed to speak to Gregory with as much delight as possible, rose up with him from the seat, and dissolved that holy assembly.

Such are the great and supernatural miracles of the great and wondrous Gregory, which happened after his departure to God and that truly blessed end. They are but a few from the many that were, that will be, and that were before, and such as to show the whole from a part, worthy of him and of that great and angelic life, and of his wondrous struggles and labors for piety, and indeed of his frequent persecutions, and of the most beautiful confession. I do not think they are wondrous so much because of those things miraculously and frequently worked by the divine, supernatural grace, but because of the cause of the sound word of piety, which had been fought against by these most wicked and many-headed heresies, and which now, more than ever, was supported and proclaimed by him to those near and far, by sea and by land, by the power of the divine Spirit dwelling in him, so that his sound also went out apostolically into all the earth, and his words to the ends of the world; even if this offshoot of theirs, and the ringleaders and followers of the evil system of error, remaining still in the old error and the night-battle, and, like the blind, groping for walls according to the blessed Isaiah, are unable to discern even toward the great light of these miracles, and the sun of truth; toward whom, I think, and slightly adapting the words of the Master, one might justly now say: "If you see signs and wonders, you will not believe," to such an extent do these new enemies of piety hasten to surpass even the unbelief of the Jews; for to them, Christ at that time, without the sign, was unable to by the word