PANAGYRIC OF THE SAME ON THE HOLY FORTY MARTYRS. ORATION I.
A Things which I suspect are burdensome and annoying to the majority, these are the very things in which my own mind rejoices. For it is unpleasant, as one might expect, for most people to be crushed together and crowded, but to me this is a source of joy. For the eye of the shepherd is gladdened when he sees the flock straitened by a multitude, and over-flowing the fold—even though the sheepfold is not small, but the abundant flock makes the spaciousness narrow. Such a thing, too, Peter perceived concerning the Lord, and answered saying: "Master, the crowds press thee and crush thee." Truly, just as the divine Apostle says somewhere, this is what it means to be pressed but not straitened. For he says: "Pressed in every way, but not straitened." But for myself, what sort of discourse shall I bring forth for such an assembly? Who will give me a voice more piercing than a trumpet, so that I might sound above the multitude and store my words in the ears of those gathered? To which of the things that have been read shall I turn my mind, that I may discover a discourse appropriate to those present? Job is great, instructing life in fortitude by his own examples; great is the writer of Proverbs in B his riddles. And what might one say about the holy Apostle, who out of those ineffable words which he says are beyond human comprehension, perhaps through the teaching with which he instructed the Ephesians, reveals to us also the mystery of the Word on the Cross, uncovering it through riddles? Such also are the other mysteries from the psalms: the "remembrance," and the "inscription of a pillar," and the "song for the winepress." For having considered these in the titles of the psalms that were read to us, we see that no small opportunity is given to our discourse through these riddles and wrappings of words. But as for me, it seems C appropriate to reserve the exposition of the things mentioned for a second time; yet I desire to find a voice appropriate and fitting for the present grace. What then is this? I know a certain...
law proper to nature, inscribed upon the very divine tablets by the Creator of the law of nature, which commands that every person should compensate for the benefits of their parents with all good things and services, as much as their power permits. A *Honour*, He says, *thy father and thy mother*, which is the first commandment in promises, *that it might be well with thee* (Eph. vi, 2). If this law holds the first place regarding the promise, and the execution of it turns out to be the proper gain of the one keeping it (for the honour rendered to parents returns to the one who has fulfilled the law), it would not be alien for any person of sound mind at least to look to this commandment, whose end becomes the benefit and grace of the one who has executed it.
For the parents of our flesh, having rendered service to their own generation during the time allotted to them from the beginning, have no further need of the duty of our honour, having long since departed from life, so that, as those who receive the benefit do not exist, such a law cannot be fulfilled. But the law requires us, while engaged in the work, to attain the promise. For it is not possible for those who are idle to obtain the rewards of those who are at work. What then must one do, when the parents are no more, who desires to attain both the promise and the reward, yet cannot devise a way by which they might obtain what they seek? Truly, the things set before our eyes solve this perplexity for us completely. For when I see you, B I have no need to seek other parents. For you are my fathers, who are to me even the fathers of the fathers themselves. For the homeland contains in itself also the dignity of those who have given birth. By doing what, then, shall we fulfill the law of honour toward you? For any grateful and pious son, refreshing and reviving the aged time of a father's life through his own service, supports and confirms the weakness of infirmity, becoming everything to the father in place of all else. Whence it is possible to see the father growing young again in the son. And in some ways even a hand that is elderly and trembling, refreshing and reviving itself with the vigour and strength of youth, plucks the fruit of the young man’s power, and the movement of the feet, already faltering through the shriveling of the limbs, becomes active through the diligence of the child, being set upright by the one supporting it. And even if the sight is dimmed by time, C again through the child the old man becomes sharp-sighted, being led by the hand to the necessary things of life. But you, who are for me a homeland, do not have the condition such that you would have need of any of these things.
What then, by doing what, shall we reap the fruit of the blessing of the commandment? What gift shall we offer to you that is pleasing, when no good thing is lacking to you? Or would even the very telling of the good things that are present in you pertain to the honour owed to you? Therefore it would be time to commemorate with how many and what kind of good things your life is adorned. Indeed, it is possible not only to commemorate, but also to demonstrate. But do you think that these common and ready-at-hand things are what I am speaking of? The fertility of the earth, D and the abundance of crops,
A or the river that divides your settlement? I speak of the one that encloses its flow within the circle and circuit of the plain, and becomes a lake, which, both before it forms a lake and after, being divided for the need of each of the inhabitants, runs through woods and meadows as if by design, and provides countless graces to those who dwell there, dividing itself to satisfy every desire of the inhabitants of the city. Let others speak of these things, whose speech serves the purpose of grandiosity and brings a certain merit to those who are practiced in it, by increasing the praise of the fatherland from such things. But let some worldly man, who knows how to judge goods in accordance with this life, add to the praises, if he wishes, the other river also. I speak of the neighbor, who on account of his size is counted among the rivers famous throughout the world; taking its rise from our region, it flows past the city over time, contributing not a little merit from itself as an increment of beauty and for the cooperation of life. And if there is need to recount the founders, B or to glorify the races of the inhabitants from the region, or to add to our narrations some deeds of a warlike hand—trophies, and battles, and wonders of bravery, such as the sons of authors have stored away in books—let these things be far from our company. For Christian discourse is ashamed to bestow praise upon those who love Christ from things that are foreign to the faith, just as those who celebrate the shadow of a brave man before the trophies. Therefore, let the discourse be turned toward present things, and let it place your fruit before our eyes. But let worldly goods, and such subjects of praise, even if a great abundance should be supplied for the speaker from them, be passed over in silence. For neither the whole heaven, which is indeed the most beautiful and greatest of all things in creation, nor the flashes of the luminaries, nor the breadth of the earth, nor anything else of those things that are subject to the universe by way of elements, C does divine discourse acknowledge as something great and worthy of admiration. For I have been instructed by the divine command to admire nothing of those things which pass away. If, therefore, all heaven and earth shall pass away, and the whole fashion of the world is passing away, as the Apostle says [3 Cor. VII, 31], how could anyone think it becoming to introduce for us the fertility of earth and water as a cause for praise? For even if your place possesses more of such earthly benefits than can be found elsewhere, yet, in comparison with your goods, the discourse knows how to pass over those things as if they were of no worth. Wherefore, let us turn our praise toward things that are by nature more excellent. But these shall no longer be shown to us through words; it is possible to look upon the very head of your goods. D For who does not know your fruit, that you brought forth the ear of the martyrs, this fruitful and abundant one, which extends beyond the number of thirty in the multitude and plenty of its fruits
A Behold this sacred field; from here the sheaves of the martyrs have been gathered. If you desire to know of what field I speak, do not look far from that which is present. What is this place that embraces the assembly? What does the yearly cycle tell you? What stories does the commemoration of this day bring to you? Are there not "speeches," as the Prophet says, and words, whose voices, though not heard, declare the miracles more clearly than any speech? If you look at the place, it itself says that it is the stadium of the martyrs; if you consider the day, it is like a herald of great voice and resonant sound proclaiming the crown of the martyrs. These things I think I hear the day itself crying out: that one day prides itself on the creation of the luminaries, another on the heavens, and another rejoices and is pleased by the formation of the earth. But for me, the miracles of the martyrs are sufficient for decoration; it is sufficient to be adorned with the beauty of their crowns; it is sufficient to be honored and decorated with the trophies erected against the devil. What stories have there been in me! What an addition has been made through me to the angels! What fruit the earth has given to God! When the Lord planted a planting in me! From which also almost the entire inhabited world has been planted with the shoots of the branches which have sprung forth from here: like a certain vine which is copious and abundant, while it produces other vines through itself, yet it itself remains, not failing in its own vigor. These and such things, of course, the festival of the day and the place into which you have gathered seem to announce as other joyful tidings. B But what shall I do with such a great crowd, since I am of thin voice and slow of tongue, and since, with the sound and din overcoming my speech, I can scarcely speak to those standing by in such a convenient place, so that I might be heard? For otherwise I would have stayed and persevered in good narratives, as to how the forty illustrious companions made both a common struggle and a common colony and habitation everywhere, and in whatever direction they are dispersed, they are received in various places united in hospitality. Wherefore, no one who has received a particular grace of the relics has not received the manifestation of the martyrs in its entirety. For since all were one in Christ, through one they are received with their whole flock. But how can it be that the speech does not do an injury, which has omitted in silence the beginning of the narrative of the things done by them? What then is the beginning? An excellent and distinguished youth, an optimal faith, by which all were chosen, manifest in beauty and comeliness, close in size to the branches, established in the flower of their age. C Do you see the voice being disturbed by the tumult, and the speech being interrupted by the noise, so that we, as if tossed by some surging sea, I mean by the voices of the people, must necessarily flee to the calm harbor of silence? But if through the grace of God it happens that we have leisure for the other part of the oration, then, with you listening in silence, the remaining things which are now omitted and pertain to the narrative will be supplied by the help of God. To Him be glory unto ages of ages. Amen. D
ORATION II
A Yesterday, the martyrs were calling the people to themselves; today, they are welcomed as self-invited guests in the inn of the Church. There is a certain convivial law that these circular and common feasts should be offered by the guests to one another in turn. It is necessary, therefore, that we also render to the martyrs a return feast, and perform the same office. But since our ability to speak is poor and meager, it will not be inappropriate if we treat those—who were the hosts and providers of the feast yesterday, and who are the guests today—with the very leftovers taken from them. For even a small part of a rich table suffices for the preparation of a great feast when such are the leftovers. What, then, is this leftover? You surely remember in what part of our discourse we were, when that desired and pleasant tumult for us arising from the multitude of those gathered together confounded the hearing of what was being said: when that living sea of the Church, flooding with the multitude of those flowing together and pressing upon one another, surged at the impulse of those who were always forcing their way in, imitating in its sound the true sea, by breaking and dashing the roar of the waves against our ears as if against coastal cliffs. You remember, surely, those for whom the memory of the martyrs is a care, at what point B of the tumult we left off this discourse, tossed as if by a storm. The train and context of the discourse, I think, was this: that those who were chosen for this contest were not of the common and base folk, nor was it a mixed and nameless crowd starting from humble occupations that was raised to this dignity. But first, excelling others in the beauty and strength of their bodies and in the abundance of their vigor, they were enrolled in the military lists; then, having distinguished themselves by a life of virtue and a sober manner of living, they received the grace of martyrdom as a sort of prize and reward for their finished excellence. And if it seems good, so that our discourse might become more pleasant, let us take up everything concerning the martyrs in order, bringing the contest itself before this present theater as if to be seen.
C There was a certain ancient military company stationed near the neighboring city, guarding the whole nation against the incursions of the barbarians. These men, because of a certain divine apparition granted to them earlier, cultivated the faith with greater zeal than military discipline and affairs. And perhaps it will not be untimely to relate in passing one notable deed of faith performed by those men. For when war with the barbarians had one day been joined, and all the strategic positions had been seized beforehand by the enemy army, and the waters were under the enemy's control, they were reduced to the ultimate danger, whether through the inexperience of our leaders or by some better and more divine counsel and dispensation D—that by this fact especially it might appear what the difference is between Christians and outsiders and those alien to the faith. When there was no way to remedy the present situation, and there was great trepidation and despair, since no spring or any source of water coming from elsewhere appeared to them in that place, and there was a danger of succumbing to the
A adversaries through being besieged by thirst. Then those noble and illustrious men, setting aside their reliance on arms, resolved to implore for themselves an invincible aid, to which none could offer resistance in such formidable circumstances. For, having left behind in the camp those who had not yet received the faith, and having withdrawn by themselves, they imitated the miracle that occurred in the time of the prophet Elijah, requesting with one common and united voice that a release from the desperate straits into which they had fallen might be granted to them from heaven. And while they were praying, the prayer immediately became deed. For while they were still persevering in prayer on bended knees, clouds, gathered from somewhere by a violent gust of wind, stood suspended high above the camp of the enemies; then, thundering with mighty peals and kindling fiery bolts of lightning upon those below, it poured down water B more abundant than any river, so that to the adversaries, both the incessant thunderbolts and the mass of the downpour were the cause of utter destruction, while for those who had set in opposition the battle array of their prayers, it sufficed for both purposes: both for the defeat of the opposing forces and for the relief of their thirst, since the overflowing torrents abundantly provided them with drink. To these, then, our own choir of the army was joined; they too, confirmed in the faith by those accounts of the army and nurtured in the same pursuits and exercises, were raised to such a degree of greatness of soul that, by the excellence of their virtue, they stirred up envy against themselves. For just as we have learned from the history of Job that has now been read to us, that the adversary of human life deemed it an injury to himself that Job should be illustrious and well-spoken of for his virtue, and for that reason C demanded him for torment, because Job, being truthful, just, and blameless, caused him vexation and annoyance; in the same way, the enemy and invader of good things looked with an evil eye upon these great champions, and could not endure the hoariness of their character, which he observed in their youthful age. He saw the flower of their bodies adorned with continence and sobriety; he saw a certain armed choir, dancing for God through the army, beautiful to behold, fierce and terrible to the eye, with lofty spirit and indomitable courage, swiftness of foot, excellent strength, and a fitting, apt, and convenient compacting of limbs, and in all the advantages that they possessed, their virtue of soul surpassing the goods of the body with its own splendor. He who wanders about the world out of envy walks among them as well. He saw not one truthful man, but a divine company of so many men, all truthful, just, and worshippers of God; he demands them too for his own will. And first, indeed, he tries to persuade the commander of the forces, who was insane in his worship of idols, that he would not otherwise prevail in the victory against the barbarians unless he sacrificed those who adored the name of Christ. D When these had been identified as soon as possible on account of their noble confession, and were of their own accord fleeing towards the consummation of their passion, the Enemy at once refused to kill them with the sword (as if that were some mild and benign kind of death), but having crushed them with iron bonds,
he made this the beginning of their punishment. Yet, for them, these bonds were actually an adornment, and a spectacle fine and delightful to the eyes of Christians: a youth, chosen in such number, distinguished by beauty, and superior to others in age. All were joined together in the same bond, just as some crown or necklace placed around the neck, having pearls of equal size strung in a circle. Such were the saints, both united by faith and tightened towards one another by their bonds. For being each beautiful in themselves, they added to each other’s beauty. It is like what happens in heavenly wonders, when on a clear and pure night the grace of the stars is diversified one through another, each contributing its own radiance to the common ornament of the heaven. B Such was the spectacle of the saints, truly, as the prophet Ezekiel says somewhere, "the vision of lamps moving to and fro." My account dwells gladly upon the beauty of their appearance. For it knows, as Wisdom says, how to infer the beauty that is in secret from the magnitude and beauty of the creatures, since the purity of the soul shone forth through what was visible, and the man who appeared was a worthy dwelling for Him who is hidden and escapes sight. How beautiful then was the spectacle to those who saw it! Beautiful, I say, to those who wish to gaze upon beautiful and illustrious things; beautiful to angels; beautiful to the supramundane powers; but bitter to the demons, and to those who embraced the worship of demons—men (if they should be called men at all, who excelled to such a degree in the greatness C of their nature), soldiers of Christ, armor-bearers of the Holy Spirit, champions of the faith, towers of the divine city. They mocked every punishment of torture, every onset of terrors, and every assault of threats as if it were a childish madness. It was as if they did not surrender their bodies to the tortures, but only the shadows of their bodies; who, having conquered flesh with flesh, and holding the fear of death in contempt, surpassed all the terrors of tyrants by the greatness of their souls, and appeared superior to human standards. Oh, how well they practiced for their bodily trophies! Oh, how well they transferred the experience of war into the battle-line arranged against the devil! They did not arm their hands with D a sword, nor shield themselves with a wooden buckler, nor were they fortified with a bronze helmet and greaves, but they took up the armor of God which the commander of the Church, the divine Apostle, describes: shield, and breastplate, and helmet, and sword; in this way they advanced against the opposing power. But leading these was heavenly grace, and leading the devil’s battle-line was he who holds the power of death. The place of their pitched battle was the tribunal of the bloodthirsty men; having taken their stand there, they struggled, the one side skirmishing with threats, while the others resisted by means of their endurance. It was proposed by the adversaries that they should either abjure their faith in the Lord, or be punished with death.
A Fire was threatened for this, and the sword, and the pit, and whatever other names there are for torments. But one voice was heard in response to all these things: Christ, whom those holy men confessed with their mouths. This was the wound of their adversaries; this was the spear point they hurled at the enemy. By this voice the Adversary was wounded in the very center of his heart. This is the stone that was slung by the hand of David, which did not miss the helmet of the Adversary, at which it was aimed. For the confession of Christ exists as the sling of the good soldier: the enemy falls and loses his head.
But my discourse, as if the reins had been cast off, has slipped away and leaped beyond its proper bounds, venturing to utter the unspeakable, as if it had become a spectator of those things which flee the sight of men. It dares to say that, because of such a voice, which boldly confessed Christ, there was applause on high and praise from the holy angels, acclamation from the citizens of the heavenly city applauding their noble achievement, and joy among the entire heavenly assembly. B For what kind of spectacle was formed then for the angels in the world of men! What a conflict between the devil and men did those spectators of our life behold! How different was the encounter from that first struggle, when the serpent defeated Adam! Man did not withstand even one onset of the Evil One then, when he was attacked through a certain specious pretext and bait; but as soon as he rushed upon him, he was overthrown by the fall.
But in all these cases, the attempts of the enemy were vain and ineffective. He offered hopes, but they rejected them; he threatened terrors, but they ridiculed them. Only one fear existed for them alone: to be separated from Christ. One good existed: to be with Christ alone. All other things were but laughter and shadow, trifles and dream-like visions. Because of this, my discourse ventures to speak of things that evade the vision, and says that the entire supramundane army rejoiced at the feat which was being performed magnificently by these athletes. C My discourse still carries itself forward and dares to attempt things not to be attempted; it still dares to relate supramundane events: that while these things were being carried out prosperously here in the conflict against the adversaries, the righteous institutor and president of the struggle was bringing forth the crowns destined for the victors, and the Commander of the divine army was preparing the rewards for the winners, and the Holy Spirit was welcoming them with various gifts. For since they professed faith in the Trinity, therefore grace was meted out to them in return by the Trinity. And what was that grace? This very thing: that they were shown to be more excellent than the first athletes, I mean Adam and Eve. Those ones brought down through sin the human nature that was standing; D these ones raised up again through their endurance that which was lying in the ruin of their predecessors. Those ones were cast out from paradise to the earth; these ones migrated from here to paradise. Those ones armed death against themselves (for the weapon of death, it is said, is sin); these ones made useless, through their own virtue and fortitude, the death that had been armed by sin, by enduring the
A sharp points of suffering, so that it might be rightly said, "Where, O death, is thy sting? Where, O Hades, is thy victory?" (1 Cor. xv, 55). What is more wretched than the fruit of a tree? What is more common than wood? A fruit commended by a certain color and sweetness of taste caused the charm and pleasantness of Paradise to be esteemed as little and neglected (Gen. iii, 6). B But to these great combatants not even the sun itself seemed sweet; rather, they even voluntarily alienated themselves from it, so that they might not fall away from the true Light. What does the account say regarding Eve (for I am carried along to run through the deeds of our first parents further than the subject requires)? "She saw," it says, "that it was pleasing to the eyes and fair to the taste." Then they exchanged the grace found in those things for Paradise. But for these men, the things that fall under sight were the very pleasure of taste: heaven, sun, earth, people, fatherland, mothers, brothers, friends, kinsmen, companions—what is sweeter to look upon than these? What is more precious to come to for the taste? You know, children, your affection for your parents. You know, fathers, your disposition toward your children. You know, you who look upon the sweetness in the sun; you are not ignorant, you who are a lover of your brother, of the natural relationship toward fraternity; you know, young man, the grace derived from companions, how much they sweeten your life. But to those [martyrs], all these things were hostile, all were alien. One good alone appeared to them: Christ. They renounced all things that they might gain Him. The time in bonds was not short, and for the saints, as the punishment was prolonged, the desire for the consummation grew in intensity. And just as those who cultivate bodily fitness, when they have acquired sufficient strength in the gymnasium, thus confidently proceed to the contests, in the same way these men also, having been sufficiently trained in piety through bonds and imprisonment, were thus led forward to the crown of the contests. C The sequence of the discourse has arrived at the end, or rather, at the summit of the whole well-accomplished feat. This was the time; these are the days of the contest; this is the prologue to Pascha, the mystery of the holy Quadragesima. Forty days are given to us for propitiation, and there are an equal number of crowns for the saints. And am I perhaps thought by you to be superfluous and a chatterer, relating to you your own wonders, and soothing your ears with your own goods? But yet, so that the discourse may not abandon you incomplete, we too shall run along with the saints to the end of the contests. It was freezing on that day. And there is absolutely no need for you to be taught what this frost was like, since you can make a conjecture from the present day—a frost that penetrates even the hairs. You know the intensity and the harshness, both you who are newcomers to these places and you who are natives, and you have no need to be taught by a speech; but even if some other person should describe how miraculous the winters among you usually are, D how rivers flowing eternally stand still, the freezing force opposing the current and turning the waves into stone; and how the neighboring lake needs some markers to be recognized as a lake, turning into dry land
A For what is usually done by those who wish to ride above its waves—since they are frozen over as if by a solidifying process—they continue to do. I have often known even water to be fashioned by fire for the locals, when they break off a piece of the water and, after melting it with fire as if it were bronze or iron, they turn the stone back into water. Such was the season at the time of the contest, as the evil [of the cold] had taken on an unnatural intensity from the northern winds, just as one may hear from those who recount these miracles.
After they had therefore clearly proclaimed the name of Christ in public, and by such a declaration had already shown themselves to be crowned B as victors, and as they were pressing toward the completion of their death, this manner of contest was devised for them. The tyrant commanded that the athletes be tormented and extinguished by the frost. Oh, the weakness of words and thoughts! How far short of the dignity of the subject does speech fall! An order of death, and frost, and torture, and the expectation of such a punishment; and this blessed youth, with laughter and jest and gaiety, made their way to the place of execution. The athletes’ race was toward their passion, a race both sacred and intense, and a struggle to snatch away the crown of confession. Their desire for victory was equal; no one was seen to lag behind in fervor. But unanimously and all together, upon occupying that place, as if it were a public bath C that was free at that moment, and as if they themselves were about to cleanse and wash their bodies in the bath, they put aside their cloaks without hesitation, all echoing that saying of Job: "Naked we entered into the world, and naked we shall depart unto Him who brought us hither; we brought nothing into the world, nor do we owe the export of anything; nay rather, having entered naked, we shall depart full of the treasures gathered from our good confession." Saying these things, and bracing and strengthening themselves with such words, they surrendered their bodies to be constrained by the frost. And while the nature of the elements yielded to the freezing, the nature of the martyrs was as if indomitable and unconquered; or rather, the nature [of the body] underwent its own proper [fate] D and accepted the painful, but the greatness of soul of the athletes contended even against nature itself. For the strength of the body was gradually being dissolved, wasting away and being consumed by the freezing; but the vigor of the soul became all the greater. The bloom of the body grew dark, its beauty faded, and the healthy color of the flesh withered away. Fingers fell off, being gradually cut away and severed by the frost, and all limbs and the instruments of sensation were shattered and fell apart by the bitterness of the cold. For the flesh, turning black and swelling up, as it split around the limbs, sloughed off from the bones, and the conditions of mortality were received into their awareness. And thus, for them, death, proceeding little by little, was prolonged, extended over three days. For to such a point the
A awareness of them endured, they remained in the position where they had been assigned from the beginning, in all things becoming victors against their adversary. But who would relate to me what followed these events in a manner worthy of them? What discourse could describe that divine procession when those holy bodies were conveyed to the fire upon wagons? How, in place of the one stolen away by the devil, the prison guard was introduced by grace to fill the number? Who will recount to me concerning that mother, a root worthy of the martyr she produced, who, when her own son was left behind by the executioner because he still breathed, and for this reason was not taken away with the others upon the wagon, did not endure the insult, seeing the executioner’s humanity toward the brave man? But rather she chided him for having separated the athlete from his fellow combatants. And she, standing by the martyr, who had already begun to stiffen and was immovable B from the freezing cold, and seeing him held back by a cold and feeble breath, living only so much as to sense his torments, looking at his mother with a dim and withered gaze, and with a dead and languid hand gesturing and comforting her, and inciting her to bear things bravely—when his mother saw these things, did she experience anything motherly? Were her bowels moved, or did she rend her tunic, or did she cast herself upon her son, warming and reviving his numbness and failing strength with warm arms? Away with such thoughts! Even to say such a thing is among those that are absurd. We truly know the tree from its fruit; a rotten tree cannot produce good fruits. llbracketalt-version omittedrrbracket Since, therefore, the fruit of the martyrdom is good, praise the mother who bore the best of children, who is saved through the begetting of children, as C the Apostle says. For since she presented such fruit to God, she made a defense for the common nature of women. “You are not my child,” she says, “not a scion of my travail; having received God, you were born according to God. You have received the power to become a child of God. Run to your Father, do not be left behind by your peers, do not come second to the crown, do not make your mother’s prayer unfulfilled; you will not grieve your mother by becoming a crown-bearer, a victor, and a triumpher.” Saying these things, and bracing herself beyond her nature—or rather, being braced by the Spirit—she herself placed him who was born of her alongside the others upon the wagon, accompanying and leading the athlete on with a cheerful countenance. And what followed these things? The saints struggled in the air, D they sanctified even the fire by their own addition, becoming fuel for the flame. They brought the blessing even to the water. In all things the divine sayings were being fulfilled. The three youths take up into the common hymnody cold and heat: the cold through the freezing, the heat through the burning; then they passed through fire and water. But the discourse desires to pass over these as things already known, and at the proper time to consider concerning one of those previously sought.
A Now, to examine: When man was cast out of Paradise, a flaming sword which turned was appointed to guard the entrance. And the reason for this providence of God was that man might not pass on to the tree of life, partake of it, and remain immortal. You remember, by all means, the things that were sought; and you remember, as is reasonable, the things discovered by us relevant to the investigation; but if we were to begin again from the beginning and go through and analyze the whole question from the start, the time would be prolonged beyond what the present occasion permits. This, then, was the question sought: Whether Paradise is inaccessible even to the saints on account of the sword that turns; and whether the athletes are excluded from Paradise? What, then, is the promise B for which they undertake the contests of piety, and if they will have a status inferior to the thief, to whom the Lord said, "Today you shall be with me in Paradise"? Although the thief did not approach the cross of his own volition; but because he was near to salvation, the keen and ingenious thief caught sight of the treasure, and seizing the opportunity, he stole life, having used his art of thievery beautifully and skillfully, saying, "Lord, remember me in your kingdom." Then he indeed attains Paradise; but as for the saints, does the flaming sword render the entrance obstructed? Truly, the question has its solution within itself. For this very reason the Scripture does not show the sword standing always face to face C with those entering, but describes it as also turning, so that to the unworthy it may appear in front, but to the worthy it may be behind their backs, opening for them an unhindered entrance to life, into which they have passed, having safely traversed the flame through the boldness of their contests; we too, having safely passed through it, may arrive within Paradise, strengthened by their intercession for the good confession of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.