whom the tyrant dragged along as an easy prey, but who, after the trial, was recognized as an invincible soldier. The tyrant laughed at him for speaking in a broken manner, but shuddered at his youthful strength in angelic things. For his manner of life did not play the barbarian together with the organ of his tongue, nor was his reason seen to limp along with his syllables; but he was a second Paul, speaking with Paul: *Though poor in speech, yet not in knowledge.* The executioners began to scourge him, yet the martyr was found to be the more vigorous; the hands of those who were tearing him apart lost their strength, but the reason of him who was being torn was not bent. The lashes loosened the structure of his sinews, but the tension of his faith was drawn tighter still. His flanks were hollowed out and consumed, B but the philosophy of his spirit blossomed. The greater part of his flesh was as dead, yet he flourished as if he had not yet begun the contests. For when the love of piety takes hold of the soul, it makes every form of battle seem laughable, and all those who lacerate it for the sake of the beloved delight it rather than afflict it. The longing of the apostles bears witness to me, which once made the scourgings from the Jews pleasant and agreeable to them. For they went, he says, *rejoicing from the presence of the council, because they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for his name*.
Such is the soldier celebrated by us today; considering his torments as joy, thinking of the lashes as if he were being pelted with roses; fleeing the insults of impiety as if they were arrows, and considering the anger of the judge to be like the shadow of smoke; laughing at the savage ranks of the guards, C dancing amidst his dangers as if for crowns; rejoicing in his blows as if they were honors; leaping for joy at the more severe punishments as if they were more brilliant prizes; spitting upon the bare swords; receiving the hands of the executioners as if they were softer than wax; kissing the instrument of torture as if it were a saving thing; rejoicing in the closings of his prison cells as if they were meadows; taking delight in the inventions of tortures as if they were a variety of flowers; possessing a right hand stronger than the fire. This was the last device that was brought against him by those fighting against him. For having kindled an altar for the libation to the demons, they brought the martyr and set him beside it, D and ordered his right hand to be stretched out over the altar, and they used his hand as if it were a bronze altar,
maliciously placing burning incense upon it. They hoped, indeed, that the hand, overcome by the violence of the fire, would of necessity quickly shake off the incense onto the altar. Alas for the complex sorcery of the impious! Since, they say, we did not bend his will through countless wounds, let us bend at least his hand in the flame of this contentious wrestler. Since we have not shaken his soul with various devices, let us at least cause his right hand to tremble by bringing it to the fire. But the wretches did not derive any benefit from this hope either. For while the flame was eating through the hand, the hand remained, bearing the flame as if it were ash. It did not turn its back to the raging fire in the manner of those who flee, but stood unmoved, warring heroically against the flame, and providing the martyr with the opportunity to utter the words of the Prophet: *Blessed be the Lord my God, who teacheth my hands for battle, and my fingers for war* (Ps. CXLIII, 1). For fire was clashing with a hand, and the qualities of defeat were found in the fire. B A struggle was being waged between the flame and the right hand of the martyr, but the victory of the hand was a certain new kind of wrestling; for while the flame passed through the midst of the hand, the hand was still stretched out for the struggle. O hand more stubborn than the fire! O hand that has not learned to be bent by fire! O fire that has been taught to be conquered by a hand! Iron yields, softened by the power of fire; bronze submits to the might of fire; even the hardness of stones is accustomed to be overcome by it. But now the vehemence of the fire, which tames all things, did not bend the right hand by burning it.
3. With good reason might the martyr cry out to the Lord: *Thou hast held my right hand, and with thy will thou hast guided me, and with glory hast taken me up* (Ps. LXXII, 24). What shall I call you, O noble soldier of Christ? Would I call you a statue? But I shall greatly diminish your steadfastness. For fire C indeed softens a statue when it receives it; yet it did not compel your right hand even to appear to move. Shall I call you iron? But I find such a comparison inferior to your fortitude. For you alone persuaded the flame not to subdue your hand; you alone had a right hand in place of an altar; you alone struck the faces of the demons with your burning right hand, and then with a hand turned to red-hot coals, you melted their heads; but now, stepping upon them with this hand reduced to ash, you blind their armies. But why do I diminish the victor with childish babbling
Let us therefore concede the hymn for him to more magnificent tongues; let us summon A the more sonorous trumpets of the teachers for him. Arise now for me, O brilliant painters of athletic deeds; adorn with your arts the mutilated image of this commander. Illuminate with the colors of your wisdom the crowned athlete whom I have depicted too obscurely. May I depart vanquished by you, who are about to represent the martyr's extraordinary deeds in a painting; may I rejoice today to have been surpassed by your skill in such a victory. Let me see the struggle between the hand and the fire more accurately depicted by you; let me see the wrestler more splendidly portrayed in your image. Let the demons weep, now struck again by the martyr's triumphs among you. Let the burning and victorious hand be shown again. Let Christ, the judge of the contests, also be inscribed on the tablet; to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen. B
HOMILY XVIII. On the Martyr Gordius.
1. It is a law of nature among bees not to leave their hives before their queen leads the way in flight. Since, therefore, I have now seen the Lord’s people going forth for the first time toward the heavenly flowers, the martyrs, I seek their leader. Who has roused this great swarm? Who has changed the winter gloom into spring brightness? For now, for the first time, the people, as if they were bees, having poured out of the city, have occupied in full force C the beauty of the suburbs, this venerable and most fair stadium of the martyrs. Since, therefore, the miracle of the martyr has also led us, having risen up and forgotten our weakness, come, let us also, with a voice raised to the best of our ability, buzz like bees around the flower of this man’s deeds, bestowing a task both pious and agreeable to those present. For "when the just man is praised, the people will rejoice," as the wise Solomon was just telling us. And yet, I was doubting to myself what the enigma of the proverb-writer could possibly mean. Could he mean that the people rejoice when some rhetorician or skilled orator has composed a speech to stir the admiration of the hearers, with some elegant sound D that rings around their ears: namely, that they rejoice in both the invention and arrangement of the thoughts, and the splendor of the language and the harmonic concert