Book on Saint Babylas

ADMONITION

It is sufficiently certain whether one should stand by this calculation. One thing we can say without danger: that this book was written by Chrysostom around the year 382, though we do not dispute it if someone publishes it a few years before or after. Hermantius, who thinks this book is a sermon delivered to a gathering of the people, wishes to assign it to the year 386, when he was most recently ordained; for as Chrysostom himself testifies, he had not delivered a sermon before he was a presbyter. But, as we were saying above, this book bears no sign of having been a sermon delivered to the people, and it is of such length that it could not have been recited at a single session. Furthermore, who would believe that he would have delivered that extremely long refutation of Libanius, which occupies almost half the book, in a gathering of the people? So much for the timing.

The argument of the book is the history of the martyr S. Babylas, bishop of Antioch, told in a declamatory style with figures of speech; and while we believe that S. Babylas was slain by Christ, there is no doubt that the nature and cause of his martyrdom are set forth by Chrysostom based more on rumors among the people than on the true history of the events. For who, I ask, was that Christian Roman Emperor who, having initiated a barbarian peace with the king, having accepted his son as a pledge of peace upon the condition that he educate the son for himself, suddenly slaughtered him, and for that reason was debarred from the entrance to the church by the blessed Babylas, and ordered the same prelate to be hauled off to prison and beheaded? Some scholastics or librarians say this Emperor is Numerian. What nonsense! For to call the Christian Numerian—or the murderer of the son of some barbarian king given to him as a pledge of peace—is at odds with true history. Nor is it more credible in certain Acts edited by Bollandus on January 24th, where Numerian is introduced as a worshiper of idols, attempting to lead S. Babylas into impiety, and then afflicting him and the boys with the glory of martyrdom: these things certainly cannot refer to our Babylas. Hence the question arises whether there are several of the same name. See Bollandus on this matter in the *Acta SS.*, January 21st. It is therefore probable that the Emperor being remembered is Philip, who, having arrived at Antioch in the time of Pascha after he had achieved his ends involving the invasion of Gordian Augustus, approached the church intending to be a partaker of the mysteries. Learning of this, S. Babylas barred the Emperor, who was approaching, from entering the church, and ordered him to take his place in the area for penitents until, having washed away and expiated his crimes through penance, he would later be received into the communion of the faithful. Eusebius narrates that Philip bore this rebuke from the holy prelate with a grateful heart and acted with modesty, having gone to the place of penitents, and then later, having confessed his crime according to the statutes of the Church, having performed the required penance, he was admitted into the church. But under the Emperor Decius, the enemy of Christians, B. Babylas gave his neck for Christ. That Philip’s penance and his Christianity are narrated by Eusebius not as a certainty, but as something heard from some others, and is considered doubtful by many. See those who have treated this matter more extensively from established sources. It is probable, however, as I was saying, that the story concerning Philip’s execution of Gordian came from that history which we mentioned above from Chrysostom; but it is so garbled and distorted in all its parts that it seems to be an entirely different story.

Far more sound are the accounts recorded by Chrysostom regarding the relics of S. Babylas from the suburb of Daphne to the city of Antioch, and also of the temple of Apollo miraculously touched and burned. For of these, not only was Chrysostom an eyewitness, but so were all his listeners, whom he addresses in his homily. He also mentions this miracle in his homily as well as in the book on Babylas.

The Latin translation of the homilies is by Fronton Du Duc. We have prepared a new translation of the books on Babylas and against Julian and the Gentiles, as that of Germanius Brixius, which was in the earlier editions, was entirely a paraphrase.

ON THE HOLY HIEROMARTYR BABYLAS

1. ^A I had wished indeed to render the debt today which I promised to you recently when I was here; but what am I to do? The blessed Babylas appeared, intervening, and called us to himself, not by uttering a voice, but ^B by...

lamp of the countenance having turned us around. Do not, therefore, fret at the deferral of the repayment; for in every case, by as much as the time becomes longer, by so much does the interest increase for you. For we shall pay out this money with interest; since the Master who deposited it ^A commanded it so. Confiding, therefore, in the things lent, as both the principal and the profit remain yours, let us not pass over the gain that has fallen our way today, but let us feast upon the righteous achievements of the blessed Babylas. Now, how he stood at the head of the Church among us, and saved this sacred ship in winter, and turbulence, and surge, and how much boldness he displayed before the king, and how he laid down his soul for the sheep, and received that blessed slaughter— these things, and such as these, we shall leave to the older of the teachers and to our common father to tell. For those who have reached old age among you are able to recount the older events well; but those things which have happened recently, and in our own lifetime, these I, the younger, shall narrate to you—I mean those after the departure, those after the burial of the martyr, when he was living in the suburb. And I know indeed that the Greeks will laugh at our promise, if we claim to speak of the virtuous deeds of one who was buried and dissolved into dust after his departure and burial; yet we shall not be silent for this reason, but for this very reason we shall speak, so that by demonstrating the truth of this paradox, we may turn their laughter back upon their own heads. For indeed, the virtuous deeds of a man, simply speaking, could not occur after his departure; but of a martyr there could be many and great ones, not so that he might become more brilliant (for he has no need of glory from the multitude), but so that you, the unbeliever, may learn that the death of martyrs is not death, but the beginning of a better life and the precursors of a more spiritual walk of life, and a passage from the lesser to the better things. For do not look upon this—that the martyr's body lies bare and destitute of soul-activity; but observe this—that another power, greater than he, sits beside it, the grace of the Holy Spirit, which pleads for everyone concerning the resurrection through the things it works by miracles. ^B For if God has granted to dead bodies, and those dissolved into dust, a power greater than all the living, much more will He grant to them a life better than the former, and more blessed at the time of the crowns. What, then, are his virtuous achievements? But do not be troubled if we lead the discourse a little further back. For those who wish to display paintings well, having removed the viewers a little distance from the panel, thus uncover them, making the sight clearer to them by the distance. Bear with it, therefore, you also, as we draw the discourse back. Since Julian, having surpassed all in impiety, ascended to the kingly throne and took hold of the sovereign scepter, straightway he lifted his hands against the God who had made him, and he did not recognize his Benefactor, and looking from the earth below up to heaven, he barked like the maddest of dogs, which cry out equally against those who do not feed them and those who do feed them—or rather, he raged with a madness wilder even than theirs. For they both distance themselves from and hate their own kith and kin and strangers alike; but this man fawned upon the demons who were strangers to his salvation, and served them by every manner of worship; but the Benefactor and Savior, who did not even spare His Only-Begotten for his sake, he spurned and hated, and he ridiculed the Cross, the thing which raised up the world lying prone on its face, and dispelled the darkness from every side, and introduced to us a light brighter than the sun’s rays. And not even there did his madness stop, ^C but he promised to snatch the nation of the Galileans from the midst of the world—for thus he was accustomed to call us. And yet, if he thought the name of Christians to be an abomination, and that the matter was full of much shame, for what reason did he desire to shame us not from that, but by a strange name? But he knew clearly that being called by one’s kinship to Christ is a great ornament not only to men, but also to angels and to the powers above. For this reason he moved everything, so that he might rob us of this ornament and dissolve the proclamation. But this was impossible, O wretched and miserable one, just as it was impossible to tear down the heaven, and to extinguish the sun, and to shake and cast down the foundations of the earth. And Christ proclaimed these things beforehand, saying thus: Heaven and earth shall pass away; but My words shall not pass away (Matt. 24. 35). But you do not endure Christ speaking; therefore, accept the voice from the facts themselves. For I, having been deemed worthy to know what an ordinance of God is, how strong and invincible a thing it is, and that it is more trustworthy than natural consequence and the experience of all things, have believed it to be so; but you, who still drag yourself upon the ground and are fluttered by the examination of human reasoning, accept the testimony from the facts; I do not gainsay or contend.

2. What, then, do the facts say? Christ said that it is easier for heaven and earth to be destroyed than for any one of his words to fall away (Luc. 16. 17): the king spoke in opposition to these, and threatened that he would destroy the dogmas. Where, then, is the king who threatened such things? He has perished, and is corrupted, and is now in Hades awaiting the inescapable punishment. And where is Christ, who declared those things? In the heavens, at the right hand of the Father, holding the highest throne of glory. Where are the king's blasphemous utterances, and his licentious tongue? It has become ash, and dust, and food for worms. Where is Christ's decree? It shines from the very truth of the facts, flashing forth as if from a golden pillar of the outcome of works. And yet the king did not then omit anything, intending to wage the war against us; but he also called on augurs, and assembled sorcerers, and everything was full of demons and evil spirits. What, then, are the rewards of this service?

On the Relics of St. Babylas.

^A What, then, were the rewards for this cult? The destruction of cities, and a famine more bitter than any other kind of famine. For you know and remember how the market was filled with goods for sale, and the workshops were full of turmoil, while everyone strove to seize and depart with whatever they first encountered. But why do I speak of famine, when even the springs themselves were bereft of water—springs whose abundance of flow surpassed the rivers themselves? But since we have happened upon the mention of the springs, come now, let us ascend to the suburb of Daphne and turn our discourse to the glorious deeds of the martyr. Indeed, you seek to divulge the shameful and disgraceful acts of the Gentiles, yet we shall also bring them into the light in this way: for whenever the martyrs are mentioned, the shame of the Gentiles becomes known there as well.

When the Emperor had ascended to Daphne, he kept tiring Apollo with prayers, soliciting and beseeching him to prophecy something for him concerning future events. What, then, does that great god, the seer of the Gentiles, say? "The dead hinder me," he says, "from speaking; but break open the caskets, dig up the bones, move the dead." What could be done more wicked than these commands? He introduces unusual laws for the plundering of sepulchers, and devises new modes of driving away guests. Who ever heard of the dead being cast out? Who has seen a soul-bereft body ordered to be driven from its resting place, just as he commanded here, overturning the common laws of nature from their foundations? For these are the common laws among all mortals: that whoever has completed life should be committed to the earth, consigned to the grave, and wrapped in the bosom of the great mother of all. And these are laws that not even a Greek, not a barbarian, not a Scythian, nor anyone more savage than them, has ever violated; but all honor and observe them, and they are so sacred as to be worthy of veneration by all.

But the demon, having cast off the mask, openly opposes the common dogmas of nature: for, says he, the dead are a pollution. The dead are not a danger, O most wicked demon, but a depraved will is a thing to be abhorred. But if something worthy of admiration is to be mentioned, the living are rather full of wickedness, while the bodies of the dead are not objects of detestation; for the latter indeed serve the commands of the soul, while these lie immobile. That which is immobile and bereft of all sense is usually free from all accusation. Although, for the rest, I would not say that even the bodies of the living are by nature abominable—rather, it is everywhere the depraved and perverse will that is subject to the indictments of all.

^B

He upbraids the attempted rape of Daphne by Apollo.

^C Now the martyr was indeed moved from his place; however, the demon, while he enjoyed security in that way, yet immediately learned that while the bones of the martyr could be moved from the spot, the hands of the martyr could not be avoided. For as soon as the casket was drawn to the city, a lightning bolt from heaven struck the head of the statue and consumed everything. Indeed, if he had not been angry before, at that point it was proper for the impious Emperor to be angry and to pour out his wrath upon the martyrium of the martyr—yet not even then did he dare! So great a fear had occupied him; rather, even though he saw the intolerable fire and well knew the cause of it, he remained quiet. Nor is it only to be wondered at that he did not overturn the martyrium, but that he did not even dare to place a roof on the temple again. For he knew, he knew that the disaster had been sent by the Divinity, and he feared that if he devised anything further, he would bring that fire down upon his own head. Therefore, he endured seeing the temple of Apollo so desolate; nor was there any other cause for why he did not repair what had happened, except for fear alone, which forced him against his will to keep quiet; and this while he knew how great an ignominy it left to the demon, and how great an honor to the martyr.

For the walls now stand as trophies, and they send forth a voice louder than a trumpet; and to the inhabitants of Daphne, to the inhabitants of the city, to those who come thither from distant regions, to the men of this age and of future times, they tell all by their very appearance—the struggle, the engagement, the victory of the martyr. For whoever is located far from the suburb, when he has gazed upon the martyrium stripped of the casket, and the temple of Apollo deprived of its roof, it is likely that he will ask for the cause of the state of both; and then, having learned the whole history, he will depart thus. Such are the glorious deeds of the martyr after his death. Wherefore I also praise your city, because you have shown much zeal toward this saint. For at the time when Daphne was returning, our whole city poured out onto the road; the marketplaces were empty of men, the houses were empty of women, the marriage-chambers were abandoned by the virgins; so ^D

and all ages, and both sexes rushed out of the city, as if to receive a father returning from a long journey. And you indeed restored him to the choir of his peers; but the grace of God did not permit him to remain there perpetually, but moved him again across the river, so that many of the places might be filled with the sweet fragrance of the martyr. And not even upon coming here was he to be alone, but quickly he received a neighbor and house-sharer of like character. For he shared with him in the same office, and displayed an equal boldness for the sake of piety. Wherefore he also obtained the same tent for him—not in vain, as it seems, this marvelous zealot of the martyr. For he spent so much time there, continually writing to the Emperor, troubling the magistrates, and bringing the service of his body to the martyr. For you know, surely, and remember, that when the summer sun held the sky in the middle of the day, with those attending him, he would walk to that place every day, not just as a spectator, but remaining as a participant in what was happening. For he often took hold of a stone, and pulled a rope, and where some building work was needed, he obeyed before those who were doing the work; for he knew, he knew how many rewards would be laid up for him for these things. And because of this, he continued to care for the martyrs, not only with splendid buildings, nor with successive festivals, but with this better way. And what is this? He imitates their life, he is zealous for their courage, by all means according to his ability he preserves the image of the martyrs in himself. For look: they gave their bodies to the slaughter; he mortified the members of the flesh which are upon the earth. They stood against the flame of the pyre; he extinguished the flame of desire. They fought against the teeth of wild beasts; but he also quelled the most grievous of the passions within us, anger. For all these things, let us give thanks to God, that He has granted us such noble martyrs, and pastors worthy of the martyrs, for the perfecting of the saints, for the building up of the body of Christ, with whom to the Father be glory, honor, power, together with the holy and life-giving Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

A DISCOURSE ON BLESSED BABYLAS AND AGAINST JULIAN AND AGAINST THE GENTILES

1. ^A Our Lord Jesus Christ, being about to proceed to His Passion, and to die the life-giving death on that very last night, having called His disciples apart, He discussed many other things and exhorted them; and among other things He said something like this to them: *Amen, amen I say to you, he that believeth in me, the works that I do, he also shall do, and greater than these shall he do* (John 14. 12). And yet many other teachers existed, and had disciples and displayed wonders, as the sons of the Greeks boast; but nevertheless, no one of them ever dared to think of, or to say, any such thing. Nor could any of the Greeks, even if they were shameless in everything, show such a challenge or saying laid down among them; but that many of their wonder-workers show phantoms of the departed and certain apparitions of the dead, many claim, and that some voices were brought to some from graves, they say; but that any of the men who lived and were admired among them, or whom they considered to be gods after their death, said anything like this to their own disciples, none of them could ever assert. ^B And if you wish, I will tell the reason why, in all other things shamelessly and with barefaced lying, they never dared to fabricate anything of this sort. For it was not simply, nor without some reason, that they refrained from this device, but those destroyers saw craftily that one who is about to deceive must have some plausible things, and things full of much cleverness, and it is necessary to construct things that are not easily detected. For it is the habit of the skilled hunters of both fish and birds not to offer the traps bare—but having surrounded them on all sides completely with bait, thus to overcome the prey of both kinds. If they, having uncovered them, offered them thus to those who were about to be caught, neither fish, nor birds would ever have come within those nets; rather, they would not even have approached them in the beginning, but each would have gone home with empty hands, both the sea hunter and the land hunter. ^C Since, then, it was their purpose to ensnare men, they did not cast their deception bare into the sea of life, but having fabricated and composed the things that are able to catch the more senseless, they refrained from going further with the lie, fearing the excess, and fearing lest by the immoderation of the second things they should also undo the former. For if they had said that someone among them had promised such a thing as our Savior said to His disciples, even those who had been deceived by them would have ridiculed them, as not having been able to lie even plausibly. For to both foretell such things and to fulfill them with truth belongs only to that blessed power. But if demons were ever able to show some phantoms to the deceived, it was when the source of light was not yet known to the many. And even then it was shown from the very start that the things being performed were the works of demons, by their other deception and by these sacrifices themselves. ^D For to order their own altars to be reddened with human blood, and to command the people who sowed such things to slaughter sacrificial victims, what excess of madness would that not hide? For those who were never sated by our calamities, nor knew any limit or end of the war against us, but were always raging with immortal madness, as if it were not sufficient to satisfy their anger to spill human…

[LATIN COLUMN]

CAPUT I.

^A ...and, so that it might not be enough to satisfy those people that women and little children should be sacrificed in place of sheep and oxen at their altars, they devised a strange lawlessness of human slaughter and introduced an unheard-of mode of calamity. For those whose place it was to mourn the slaughter of the slain, they persuaded to offer themselves up to undergo that miserable slaughter; and so that not only should the laws set down by men be violated, they also utterly destroyed the very laws of nature, contriving that nature should war against itself, and introducing into the life of man the most wicked of all slaughters. For no enemies were then feared by all as much as parents; and those whom one most ought to trust, these they suspected and shunned above all others. ^B Indeed, those abominable demons, through the very things by which God had led them to a contemplation of this world, were eager to cast them down from such a gift, while they constituted those who had provided them with life the authors of its death, wishing to declare that they had obtained nothing further from the goodness of God; as if they had no need of other executioners than their parents. Now, even if some great miracle had followed these events (I do not say that it was "shown," for that was a small and worthless matter, and full of much deceit); but even if truly great things had been performed, those very things I have mentioned are able to demonstrate, to those at least who are not out of their minds, what kind of people were doing such things—how disgraceful, how wicked, who would attempt nothing that did not tend to the subversion of us and our station.

Chapter 2: Christ bestowed blessings even upon the Gentiles.

^C But our Lord Jesus commanded no such thing to us; but since He is wonderful on account of his miracles, and no less admirable for his precepts than for his signs, He is rightly adored by all and believed to be God. For He Himself, by His arrival, broke this impiety; and what is more wonderful, He delivered from that wild and savage tyranny not only us, who adore Him, but even those who attack Him with blasphemous words. For no Gentile has henceforth been compelled to sacrifice such offerings to his own demons; such, indeed, is the kindness He has used toward our race; and God has bestowed upon His enemies greater goods than the demons did upon their friends. For the demons compelled those who worshipped and honored them to slaughter their own children; but Christ ^D took care to make His adversaries free from these precepts, and He bestowed the immunity from a bestial ministry, and this wonderful peace, not only upon His own, but also granted it to strangers; showing that those tyrants were enemies and corruptors of our race; wherefore they even used those who adhered to them as if they were strangers—for they were indeed strangers in truth. But He was the King, Creator, and Savior of the whole human race; and therefore, He spared those who were strangers to Him as if they were His own. And indeed, the human race was His own handiwork, just as His disciple says: "He came unto His own, and His own received Him not" (John 1:11). But to recount His entire mercy toward us is not for the present time; but even if one were to speak of it through all the ages, and even if one had as much power as it is fitting for those incorporeal powers to have, not even so could one attain to it according to its worth. For how good He is, He alone knows, since He alone is so good. See, therefore, what words He brings forward to His disciples: "Amen, amen I say to you, he that believeth in me, the works that I do, he also shall do, and greater than these shall he do" (John 14:12), unless He were endowed with immense goodness. That if someone in doubt should ask us where this oracle had its end, having taken up the book which is called the Acts of the Apostles, which contains the acts, not of all, but of one or two, and not so many of them, he will see the sick lying on their beds, and that the shadows of those blessed men by touch alone restored health; and that many who were raving were freed by the garments of Paul alone from the demon that was agitating them. But if anyone says that these things are a trick and an incredible fabrication of portents, even those things which are seen now are sufficient to shut and confound his blasphemous mouth, and to restrain his unbridled tongue. For there is no region in our world, no nation, no city, where these miracles are not celebrated; which, if they were indeed fabrications, would not be held in admiration. Of which matter you yourselves can offer testimony; for we shall have no need to borrow faith from elsewhere, since you, our enemies, have provided it. Why, I ask, do many know that Zoroaster and Zamolxis not even by name, or rather, only a very few know them? Is it not because all things that were said about them were fabrications? Although both they and those who conspired in them are said to have been serious men; they indeed in discovering and exercising prestige, but these in shading with the false color of words. But these things are brought forward in vain and to no purpose, when the very argument itself is found to be depraved and fallacious; just as, on the contrary, when it is certain and true, all things that are devised by enemies to overthrow it fall away in vain; for the strength of truth needs no aid; but even if there be countless ones who try to extinguish it, it is not only not destroyed, but it emerges even more splendid and sublime through the works of those who attack it, and it mocks those who torture and rave in vain.

For our things, which you say are fabrications, both tyrants and kings and sophists invincible in speech; likewise philosophers and prestige-workers and magicians and demons have cared to destroy. "And their tongue is weakened against them" (Ps. 65:9), according to the prophetic speech, "and the arrows of children have their wounds become" (Ibid. v. 8). For kings from the snares built against us have gained only as much as was sufficient to provide for themselves a reputation for a bestial spirit among all; for on account of the anger they took up against the martyrs, raging against our common nature, they rendered themselves, in their ignorance, subject to six hundred reproaches. But philosophers and acute rhetoricians, having a great reputation, some for probity, some for eloquence among many, after the battle joined against us, became the objects of ridicule, and seemed to differ in nothing from trifling children.

...and of so many peoples, they could not persuade even one wise man, or one foolish one, or a man, or a woman, or even a little child. Indeed, the ridicule in what they have written is so great that their books perished long ago, and as soon as they were shown, most of them were destroyed. If any surviving copy were found anywhere, one might find it preserved among Christians; so far are we from fearing any harm from their plots, that we laugh at all the fuss of their devices. For if our bodies were made of adamant and were incorruptible, we would not have feared if we had been clenching scorpions, serpents, and fire in our hands, but we would have even displayed them; nor, since Christ has fashioned our souls and our faith in such a way, have we feared the poisons of our enemies. For if we have been commanded to tread upon serpents and scorpions and all the tyranny of the devil 540, how much more upon worms and beetles? For such is the distance between the harm of the latter and the plot of that wicked demon.

3. Chapter III.

539 S. JOANNIS CHRYSOSTOMI ARCHIEP. CONSTANTINOP. it went out, boasting the same things about his own garments: what listener was so bereft of his senses as to place faith in such things based on mere words? Why did no ^A craftsman of that time say something similar about himself, or another say it about him? And yet, if our own affairs were fabrications, it would be likely that those who came later would have found it easier to tell similar lies. For the earlier ones could not rely on the example of others who had preceded them to have hope in the success of a fabrication; but these later ones, looking to them, would have dared a fiction more easily, since the example of the former provided confidence to the latter, as if there were no one on earth possessed of a mind, but all were out of their minds and insane, so that it might be permitted for anyone to say whatever he wished about himself and persuade others. These are trifles indeed, and worthy of laughter are the words of Gentile folly. For just as if someone wished to attack the heavens with arrows, ^B as if he were going to tear them apart with weapons; or to drain the Ocean, as if he were going to empty it with his hands, there is no one among the more sensible who would not laugh, and no one among the more serious who would not deplore it with shed tears: so, when the Gentiles contradict us, it is right to mock and deplore them; for they undertake a task more difficult than one who might hope to be able to pierce the heavens or empty the abyss. For neither will light ever be darkness so long as there is light, nor will the truth of our affairs be refuted: for it is truth, than which nothing is stronger. That those ancient things, which we grasp by hearing, are no less credible than those we now behold as present, any person not bereft of his senses and insane might confess; but so that we may refer the victory even more fully, I shall relate an admirable event that took place in our own age. But do not be troubled if, having promised to narrate a miracle ^C performed in our own age, I start my narration from ancient history: for I shall not stop merely at those events, nor shall I refer to alien ancient things for a new argument: for both cling to one another, nor is it permitted to disjoin their sequence, as you will discover upon hearing the events. What emperor in the era of our ancestors, who I cannot say what he was like in other respects; but upon hearing of the wickedness which he dared to undertake, you will recognize the remainder of his savage, inhuman ways. What, then, is that wickedness? When a certain nation was waging war with him, it seemed best to dissolve the war and put an end to mutual slaughters, to settle matters, to calm dangers and fears, to remain content with their own affairs, and not to seek anything greater; for it is better to enjoy moderate things without fear than, gaping after greater ones, to live ^D always in dread and terror, and while inflicting evils upon others, to receive them in turn from them. But when it had been decided by them, now that the war had been utterly laid aside, to pass a quiet life, it seemed best to stabilize the peace with a firm treaty and strong conditions. Then, the covenant having been made, and an oath having been given and received, they furthermore tried to persuade their king to allow his own son, who was a mere boy, to be handed over as a sure pledge of peace to those who had previously been enemies, so as to provide confidence, and at the same time to exhibit a testimony of his own intention, that indeed he had made peace with them without any guile. The king, being persuaded by this speech, gave his son—to those whom he truly believed were friends and allies; but as the outcome of the matter proved, to the most inhuman of all beasts. For when he had received the royal boy under the law of friendship and treaty, he trampled and overturned everything at once: oaths, covenants, the reverence of men, piety toward God, and the pity of his tender age; neither did the youth of that 540 beast bend him, nor did the vengeance that is wont to follow such crimes deter the savage man; nor did the words of the father who was giving up his son enter his soul—words he had spoken while handing him over, begging him to hold him in great care, establishing himself as a father to him as if he were born of himself, beseeching him to nourish and educate him in such a way, and to render him worthy of the nobility of his ancestors; amid these words, he joined the hand of the boy to the hand of the homicide and departed, drenched in tears. That most wicked of men took none of this into his heart, but having cast all of these aside at once, he perpetrates the most inhuman of all butcheries. For this atrocity is more atrocious than the slaughter of one's own son: I call you as witnesses, who would not have been so grieved—if indeed it is permitted to measure your own ^A affection—as if you had heard that he had killed his own son: for then, the natural law also would seem to be subverted along with the common law; but here many things concurred at once, which by their multitude are stronger than natural necessity. For as often as I reflect upon the little boy, who had done no injury, handed over by his father, abducted from the kingship of his ancestors, who had exchanged domestic delights, glory, and honor for a foreign upbringing, so that the wicked man might be confident in the pacts that had been made; and subsequently treated badly by him, deprived of the splendor of his father's house for his sake, and finally killed by the same—I suffer contrary emotions, simultaneously withering and burning in my soul, of which the one is spawned by anger, the other by sadness. For when I think of that wicked man armed, brandishing his sword, ^B seizing the boy by the neck, and applying the sword to the very place where he had received him with his right hand, I am torn apart and suffocated with anger; again, when I behold the youth fearing, trembling, wailing with his final gasps, calling upon his father and saying that he was the cause of these things, and imputing the slaughter not to him who was driving the sword into his throat, but to his parent, and being able neither to flee nor to defend himself, but in vain accusing his parent, receiving the blow, palpitating, striking the pavement with his heels, staining the earth with bloody streams: my very vitals are torn asunder, my thought is darkened, and a certain mist of sadness is spread over my eyes. But that beast felt nothing of the sort, but as if he were an innocent lamb, or a calf being slaughtered, so was he affected toward that nefarious butchery. And the boy, having received the blow, lay dead: ^C the homicide, however, was patronizing his own crime, taking care to cover up his prior deeds with subsequent ones. Perhaps someone thinks I am going to speak of the burial, and say that the murderer did not grant the deceased even the smallest bit of earth; but I, indeed, shall say something more atrocious. For when he had defiled his wicked hands with such blood, and had exhibited a new tragedy, as if he had perpetrated nothing...

at all—so shameless and harder than the very stones was this man—he hastened toward the Church of God. ^A Perhaps some may wonder why he was not struck by a heaven-sent blow for daring such things, or why God did not cast down a thunderbolt from above to burn up that shameless face before his entry. But if any have pondered this thought, I praise them and wonder at their fervor, yet I say that they fall short in a matter that is not small for this wonder and for the praise due. For they truly felt just indignation for the child who was slain lawlessly and for the laws of God that were thus insolently insulted; but boiling with anger, they did not perceive all that they ought to have perceived. For there is another law of this righteous Judge, lying far higher in the heavens. What then is this law? Not to bring punishment upon those who have sinned immediately, but to grant the offender time and a deadline, so that he may cast off his offense and, through repentance, become equal to those who have committed no evil—which God also showed at that time toward that wretched man. But nothing more came of it, and he remained uncorrected. ^B Yet the Lover of mankind, foreknowing even this, did not disregard him, nor did He cease doing His part: He Himself even visited him in his sickness and did what was needed for his recovery. But that man did not wish to receive the medicine; nay, he even struck the physician sent for this purpose. The medicine and the manner of this healing were as follows:

6. Babylas excludes the Emperor from the entrance of the Church

At that time, when this harsh and pitiable drama was being dared, a man who was great and wonderful (if one must call him a man) happened to be in charge of the flock among us; his name was Babylas. This man, therefore, having been entrusted at that time with the Church of Christ here by the grace of the Spirit, I would not say that he surpassed Elijah and his emulator John—lest the saying appear too burdensome—but he attained such a point as not to fall short even a little of the freedom of speech of those noble men. ^C For he did not expel from the Church a tetrarch of a few cities, nor the king of one nation, but the very man who held the greatest part of the entire world, this very man-eater, who possessed many nations, many cities, and an infinite army, and who was in every respect formidable—both from the greatness of his rule and from the audacity of his ways—just like some worthless slave of no account. [545] He expelled him with such composure and fearlessness as a shepherd would ward off a sheep filled with mange and suffering from the flock, preventing the disease of the infirm one from passing to the rest. And he did this, confirming by deed the word of the Savior, that only he who commits sin is a slave, even if he should have ten thousand crowns upon his head and seem to rule over all men upon the earth; while he, who is conscious of nothing evil within himself, even if he be numbered in the rank of subjects, is more kingly than all kings. ^D Immediately, therefore, the subject commanded the ruler, and the subject judged him who ruled over all, and brought forth the sentence condemning him.

But you, while hearing these things, do not pass by the statement lightly; for even the announcement of this fact—that one who was under his rule drove the Emperor from the porches of the Church—is enough to rouse and strike the soul of those who hear. But if you wish to learn the whole wonder accurately, do not merely pay attention to the word, but imagine the guards, the shield-bearers, the generals, the rulers, those nourished in the royal courts, those placed over the cities, the arrogance of those going before, those following, the crowds who swarmed about, and the rest of the train. Then [imagine] him in the middle, advancing with much stateliness, appearing more august from his garments, from the purple, from the stones scattered everywhere about his right hand, about the joint of the cloak, and from the rays flashing from the diadem upon his head. And do not stop the image even at this, but extend it also to the servant of God, the blessed Babylas, to his humble appearance, to his plain attire, to his contrite soul, and to his spirit stripped of audacity; and having thus depicted and opposed both, then you will know the wonder well; or rather, not even then will you grasp its precision. For no speech or sight could represent that freedom of speech, but only experience and the use of it. ^C And the bearing of the noble soul could be known well only by that man who could attain to the same pinnacle of freedom of speech as he. For how did the old man approach? How did he cut through the guards? How did he open his mouth? How did he speak? How did he rebuke him? How did he plant his right hand upon the chest that was still boiling with anger and seething with murder? How did he thrust away the murderer? Nothing of what was happening struck him [with fear] and knocked him from his purpose. O fearless soul and high intellect! O heavenly mind and angelic bearing! For as if seeing all that spectacle painted upon a wall, so the noble man did all things undaunted. For he had been instructed [546] by divine dogmas that all the affairs of the world are shadow and dream and lower than these. For this reason, nothing of these things made him quail, but rather gave him more courage. For that sight sent his intellect from the things seen onward to the King above, who sits upon the Cherubim and looks upon the abysses, to the glorious and high throne, to the heavenly army, to the myriads of angels, to the thousands of archangels, to that terrible tribunal, to that impartial judgment, to the river of fire, to the Judge Himself. For this reason, having wholly transferred himself from the earth to heaven, as if standing before that Judge and hearing Him command that the defiled and polluted one be thrust from the sacred flock, thus he cast him out and separated him from the rest of the sheep, and turned to none of the things that were seen and that seemed to be formidable, but having thrust him away most manfully and nobly, he stood by the laws of God that were being tyrannized. And yet, with what great freedom of speech was it likely that he used toward others? For he who approached the ruler with such authority, whom of the remaining would he have feared? I conjecture that man—or rather, I do not conjecture, but believe—that he would neither do nor say anything for favor or for hatred, but would stand nobly and manfully even against fear, and against flattery more powerful than this, and against other such things (and human affairs are many), and would not corrupt even a little of his upright judgment. For if a man's attire, and the laughter of teeth, and the gait of a foot reveal the things about him, much more are such great achievements sufficient to demonstrate to us the virtue of the rest of his life: for one ought not to admire him for his freedom of speech alone, but also for having extended the freedom of speech even to that point, and for not having added anything further to it.

For such is the wisdom of Christ, that it permits not to struggle either too little or too much, but preserves moderation in all things. And yet, he ^A could have proceeded further, had he wished. For he who had cast aside all care for this life (since he would not have approached at all, had he not armed himself with such thoughts) had the power to do everything: to splash the Emperor with contumely, to tear the diadem from his head, and to strike his face with his fists, when he thrust his right hand against his chest. But he did none of these things; for he had an ^B anima seasoned with spiritual salt. Therefore, he did nothing rashly or in vain, but all things with the right judgment of reason and in a saner manner—unlike the sages of the Gentiles, who are never moderate, but everywhere, so to speak, show their confidence either more or less than is proper, so that they never obtain for themselves a reputation for courage, but everywhere for irrational passions; where they fail, they are convicted by all of cowardice; where they exceed, of arrogance and vainglory. But not so that blessed man; for he did not do what came into his mind rashly, but having examined everything accurately ^C and having fitted his thoughts according to the divine laws, he thus conducted them to the deed. And so he did not make the incision merely on the surface, lest the greater part of the affected member remain, nor deeper than was right, lest by the excess of the wound he corrupt the health; but having tempered the wound to the disease, he thus applied the best medicine. Hence, I would confidently pronounce him to be free from anger, sloth, arrogance, the desire for vainglory, hatred, fear, and flattery.

Moderation in all things.

But our affairs are not in this state, but in the exact opposite. For when someone who agrees with us in religion approaches the imperial throne, the affairs of Christians become more sluggish: so far are we from being lifted up by human honors; but when someone who is impious, clearly hostile to us, and inflicting countless evils upon us, holds the empire, then our affairs flourish and become more splendid, then is the time for rewards and trophies, then is the occasion for crowns, for praises, and for the exhibition of fortitude. And if anyone says that even now there survive cities that show equal worship regarding the insanity of idols, first of all he will count few, but yet he will not even by this reason hinder my words: for the same hypothesis remains, and the citizens have someone instead of the Emperor who offers them equal honor. And the causes of this worship are bouts of drunkenness and revels, both diurnal and nocturnal, pipes, drums, the most shameless freedom of speaking basely, of doing things more base, of gorging themselves with food until they burst from drunkenness, of debauching themselves, and of collapsing into the most foul insanity: these most shameful expenditures now hold back and foster the failing error. For the more opulent, having been chosen by those who are perishing from hunger through sloth...

...and to the status of parasites and those fed around tables do they relegate them, tearing apart their shameless bellies with the leftovers from lawless banquets, and using them for whatever purposes they might desire. We, however, having once and for all abjured our irrationality and lawlessness, do not feed those who are idle and on that account are compelled to hunger, but we persuade them to work so that they may be able to provide for themselves and for others; to those who have become disabled in body, we permit them to partake of necessary bread alone from those who have. Revelry and drunkenness and every other remaining madness and obscenity have been cast out; in their stead have been brought in things that are venerable, things that are pure, things that are just, things that are of good report—if there is any virtue and if there is any praise. ^A And the other things which those among them boast about the philosophers, he has shown to be a vanity and insolence and the works of a childish mind. For he did not take a jar and shut himself up in it, nor did he go about the market wearing rags. For these things indeed appear to be something marvelous, and to entail much labor and the utmost misery, but they are utterly devoid of any praise. I ask you, not to overshadow the truth: what city, what household, what man, what woman did he save? Speak of the profit of that freedom of speech; for we have shown that of the martyr, and proceeding further, we shall reveal it more clearly. ^B And this, too, is a product of the devil’s malice: to surrender those who serve him to such labors, which both tear apart those who are deceived and render them, above all others, objects of mockery; for labor that has no profit is devoid of all commendation. For even now there are people, destroyers, and filled with a myriad of evils, showing off things far greater than the philosopher; for some have eaten sharp and whetted nails, while others have chewed and swallowed footwear; and others have devised things far more wretched than these, although such things are far more marvelous than the jar and the rags. But we do not accept them, just as we do not accept those [of the philosopher], but we equally condemn the philosopher, and we weep for both these men and all who likewise represent such things in vain. ^C But he also showed great freedom of speech toward the king. Let us therefore look at this "great freedom of speech," lest it should happen to be even more foolish than the charlatanry of the jar. What, then, was the freedom? When the Macedonian was riding out against the Persian, standing near him and urging him to tell if he needed anything, he said he needed nothing except that he not block the sunlight from him; for the philosopher happened to be warming himself in the sun at that time. Will you not be ashamed? Will you not cover yourselves? Will you not go off and bury yourselves somewhere, priding yourselves upon these things for which you ought to be ashamed? ^D For how much better it would have been to put on a substantial garment and be productive, and to ask the one ruling at that time for something useful, rather than to sit warming himself with rags, like the little infants at the breast, which nurses, after having washed and anointed them, set out for the very thing where the philosopher was sitting at that time, asking for the sake of a wretched old woman? But perhaps the freedom of speech is marvelous? But there is nothing more monstrous than this. For it is incumbent upon a good man to do everything for the common good, and to correct the life of others.

Chapter 9

Meanwhile, he punished the offender, and in the manner that it is lawful for a priest to punish, he suppressed the arrogance of the magistrates, he defended the laws of God when they were being violated, he demanded punishment for the one who was evilly slaughtered—a punishment that is the most severe of all to those who have understanding. ^A You surely remember, when I was discussing the murder, how each of the listeners was heated, and desired to take the assassin into his hands, and prayed that the one who would avenge the murder might appear from somewhere. This, therefore, that blessed one did, and he imposed a penalty upon him—not asking the king to stop blocking his sunlight, but [punishing him] for leaping insolently into the sacred precincts and confounding everything, driving him away from the master’s courts like some dog and an ungrateful servant. See how not boasting I spoke, that he showed the wonders of the philosophers among you to be the works of a childish mind? But that man of Sinope was also chaste, and passed his time in continence, and did not tolerate marriages according to the law. But how and in what way? He adds: "But you shall not add," but you will more willingly deprive him of the praises of continence than tell the manner of his continence; so shameful and filled with much disgrace was it. ^B I would have gone through the drivel, and the vain toil, and the obscenity of the others as well; for tell me, where is it useful to taste human offspring, which the Stagirite practiced? Or what benefit is there in having relations with mothers and sisters, which the philosopher who presided over the Stoa laid down as law? And I would have shown the one who initiated the Academy, and that one’s teacher, and those who are admired even more than these, to be more shameful still, and I would have unveiled the pederasty, which they set down as being honorable and a part of philosophy, stripping away all allegory, if our discourse were not extending to such a great length, and hastening toward another part, and had it not sufficiently refuted the laughter of all through this one example. For when the one who prevails, according to what seems to be the more austere part of philosophy, because of his freedom of speech and continence, is thus shown to be shameful and absurd and superfluous, and of such a sort that everyone is shown to be ridiculous and childish and mindless, what account shall we have left for the others? ^C For this reason, let us return to where we left off in stating these things. The blessed one thus constrained the unbelievers, and he rendered the believers more pious—not only the common people, but also the soldiers and the generals and the prefects, showing that the king, and the one who is last of all, are but names among Christians, and that the one who wears the diadem will be nothing more venerable than the least, when there is need for punishment and correction. ^D Moreover, to those wishing to act shamelessly and to make a certain fabricated boast about the things among us...

stopped the mouth of those who said such things, proving the confidence of the apostles through his deeds, and teaching that it was fitting for such men to exist, when the exhibition of signs afforded them greater authority. There is a third achievement, which is not minor: for he depressed the spirits of those who were to be future priests and kings, and exalted those of others, declaring that the priest is a more true steward of the earth and the things that are done upon the earth than one who is clothed in purple, and that it is necessary not to diminish the greatness of this authority, but rather that the soul should divest itself, rather than the authority which God has allotted to it from above. For he who dies in this way is able to help all even after death; but he who has abandoned this order, not only is of no benefit to anyone after death, but even while living makes many of his subordinates softer, and becomes ^A despicable and ridiculous before outsiders; and, moreover, departing hence with great shame and grief, he will be set before the tribunal of Christ, whence the powers appointed for this purpose will drag him into the furnace. Wherefore a certain wise man exhorts: Do not accept a face against your own soul (Eccli. iv. 26). But if it is not safe to dissemble when a man is treated unjustly, who, when the laws of God are violated, is silent and negligent—what punishment will he not deserve? Along with these things, he also taught something else, no less good than these: that it is necessary for each person to perform his own duty, even if no profit whatsoever stems from it to others; for he himself did not gain anything from his freedom of speech for the utility of the emperor, yet he fulfilled everything that was within his power, and left nothing undone.

^B And through these things he indeed dissolved their power, while feeding the strength of sin; thus, indeed, many have fallen into every kind of sin, not heeding [the danger], since they did not quench the flame at the beginning; thus that wretched man added worse things to the former. For after he had destroyed that youth, he proceeded from murder to inflicting injury upon the temple, and again proceeding by this way, he girded himself to show arrogance against the priesthood, and having bound the holy man in iron and cast him into prison, ^C he was thus avenging himself, demanding punishment for his benefit—which, when he ought to have admired, crowned, and honored him more than his parents, he compelled him to undergo the bonds and the miseries of bonds of evildoers.

The Martyrdom of Saint Babylas

Now he who was suffering from the disease, by his own arrogance rendered the skill of the artist useless, removing the medicine from the wound with great fury. For as if it were not enough to have committed murder, and to have impudently leaped into the temple of God, he added a second murder to the slaughter, and as if contending to surpass the former deeds with the latter, and to obscure the preceding diseases by the magnitude of the following ones (for such is the insanity of the devil, that he prepares contraries at the same time), he gave to both slaughters this distinction, so that they might have a certain correspondence with each other. ^D And the former slaughter of the boy was indeed more miserable than the second, but the second was more wicked than the former—that is, the slaughter of the holy Babylas. For a soul that has once tasted sin and is mindless adds much increment to the disease. And just as a spark, falling into an immense mass of material, immediately sets fire to what it meets, neither does it stop here, but immediately consumes what remains, and the more things the flame takes hold of, the greater strength it receives for the destruction of the rest, and the abundance of wood that is gained becomes insidious for those that are soon to be inflamed, with the flame always arming itself against those things that are soon to be consumed; thus also is the nature of sin, where it has occupied some thought of the soul, and there is no one to extinguish the evil, having progressed further, it becomes heavier and more indomitable; and therefore later sins have generally been stronger than the former—the soul always, by the addition of subsequent sins, choosing greater arrogance, and being unable to be restrained or contained once it has been led into its first arrogance and evil, with no one forbidding it from progressing to what is further, just as furious horses, having cast off the reins from their bodies, and with their riders thrown off and left supine on the ground, are very troublesome to those who meet them, and with no one curbing them, they cast themselves into precipices with an unchecked rush. Therefore the enemy of our salvation casts souls of this kind into insanity, so that he may seize and destroy them, deserted and with no one caring for them, and surrounds them with countless evils. For those who are sick in body, as long as they allow themselves to be approached by physicians, have great hope of health; but when, having fallen into phrensy, they kick and bite those who wish to deliver them from the disease, then indeed they are incurably ill, not so much because of the nature of the disease, as because they have been deserted by those who could have liberated them from their fury.

Into which fury this man, of whom we are speaking, cast himself; for having seized the physician, while he was still healing the wound, he immediately expelled him, and drove him as far as possible from his house. And it was possible here not only to hear the drama of Herod, but to behold the deed done with greater insolence, because the devil introduced that drama again into the theater of the world with greater ostentation and preparation, constituting the person of the Emperor in place of the tetrarch, and in place of one cause, offering a double argument of the matter—that one far more shameful; so that it was a much more famous tragedy not only in number, but in the very nature of the things themselves. For here, not as there, were marriages violated, nor was this history woven by the evil one from illegitimate coitus, but from the pollution of the wicked slaughter of a child, from a most cruel tyranny, and from the iniquity displayed not toward a woman, but toward holiness itself. 555 Cast therefore into prison, the blessed man rejoiced indeed in his bonds, but grieved over the destruction of the author of the bonds; for neither father nor teacher—when the former in the crime or calamity of the son, the latter of the disciple, become more famous—take pleasure free from sorrow from that fame. Wherefore the blessed Paul said to the Corinthians: We pray that you do nothing evil, not that we may appear approved, but that you may do what is good, and we may be as reprobate. Thus indeed

the disciple’s salvation was more desired by him then than his own rewards from the prison, and that the disciple should have been made temperate, so as to be stripped of these praises—or rather, that he had not fallen into this perversion in the first place. For the saints do not desire their crowns to be woven from the misfortunes of others; and if they do not desire them from the misfortunes of others, much less do they desire them from the evils befalling their own kin. For this reason, even the blessed David wept and lamented after his trophies and victory, because it had come about together with his son's misfortune; and he gave many orders to the generals marching out on behalf of the tyrant, and restrained those who were eager to kill him, saying, “Spare the young man Absalom” (2 Sam. 18.5); and when he had fallen, he mourned, and called back his enemy with groans and bitter tears.

If, then, a natural father is so affectionate, much more so is the spiritual one. For that spiritual parents are more concerned for their children than carnal ones, hear Paul saying: “Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is offended, and I do not burn?” (2 Cor. 11.29). And although this presents to us an equality—and even though fathers would scarcely utter this voice, nevertheless, let it be granted that they reach even this point—it is necessary to demonstrate something even greater. Whence, then, shall we demonstrate this? From the same inner gut-felt compassion, and from the words of the Lawgiver. And what does he say? “If you forgive them their sin, forgive; but if not, blot me out of the book which you have written” (Ex. 32.31-32). No father would choose, while he might enjoy ten thousand goods, to be punished along with his children; but the Apostle, having conducted his life in grace, and having made this tenderness of his affection intense on account of Christ—for he did not choose to be punished along with them as the other did, but in order that it might be possible for others to be saved, he himself prayed to be destroyed, saying: “I have prayed to be anathema from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh” (Rom. 9.3). Such is the compassion and sparing care in the souls of the saints. Whence this man’s innards were even more lacerated, seeing the king’s perdition proceeding further. For he was not acting merely out of being stung on behalf of the youth, but was also bowed by his goodwill toward him. For although the one was insulting the service of God, he harmed that nothing at all, but he burdened himself with ten thousand evils.

^A 11. Babylas is beheaded; he orders his chains to be buried with his body: the cult of relics. Therefore the father who loved his child, seeing the insolent man pushing himself over precipices in his rage, was eager to withstand his irrational rush, like some ill-bridled horse, hastening to drive him back through rebuke. But that wretched man did not allow it; instead, ^B having bitten the bit and resisted, and having surrendered himself to rage and madness instead of right reason, he cast himself into the chasms of ultimate perdition; and he brought the saint out of the prison and ordered him to be led off to death, in bonds. And—the ways of the world were turned upside down! The one in bonds was being released from all bonds at once, both those of iron, and those even more severe—I mean of cares and toils, and all the other things that surround us during this perishable life. But the one who seemed to be released of both iron and adamant was wrapped in ^C burdens and heavier chains, being tightened by the chains of his sins. Therefore, as that blessed man was about to be beheaded, he ordered his body to be buried with the iron, showing that things which seem ignominious are, when they happen on account of Christ, honorable and brilliant, and that the one suffering ought not only not to be ashamed, but to take pride in them; and in this, he imitated the blessed Paul, who turned his stigmata, his bonds, and his chains, up and down, boasting and thinking of them as great, while others were ashamed of them. That they were ashamed, he himself made clear to us through the apology he made to Agrippa. For when he was saying, “In a little you persuade me to become a Christian,” Paul said, “I would to God that, both in a little and in much, not only you, but also all who are present, might become Christians, except for these bonds” (Acts 26.28-29); he would not have added this if the matter did not seem ignominious to the many. For the saints, being eager servants of the Master, accepted the sufferings on behalf of the Master with much readiness, and became more radiant through them. And one says: “I rejoice in my sufferings” (Col. 1.24); and Luke speaks these same things regarding the rest of the chorus of the Apostles: for after many lashes, they departed, he says, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to be dishonored for the name of Christ (Acts 5.41). So that none of the faithless might think the contests are of necessity and gloom, he orders the very symbols of the contests to be buried with his body, showing that he treasured and loved them greatly, because of his hanging ^D exceedingly upon the love of Christ. And now the fetters lie with the ashes, exhorting all those placed over the Churches, that if it should be necessary to be bound, and to be slaughtered, or to suffer anything at all, they should endure everything readily and with great pleasure, so that we might not betray or shame even the smallest part of the freedom entrusted to us. And that blessed man thus brilliantly ended his life; but perhaps someone thinks that we also end our discourse here; for after the end of life there is no longer room for virtuous deeds or gallantry, just as it is impossible for athletes to have crowns woven after the contests have passed. But the Greeks indeed reasonably think these things, because they closed their own hope within the bounds of the present life; but we, for whom the death here becomes the beginning of another brighter life, we stand away from this suspicion and opinion. And that we do so justly, we shall demonstrate more clearly in another discourse; but for the time being, the things accomplished by the noble Babylas after his end are sufficient to provide great faith to the discourse. Since, because he contended for the truth until death, and stood against sin, fighting even unto blood, and so as not to abandon the rank in which the great King had set him, he released his soul, and died more brilliantly than any champion, Heaven did indeed possess him, but the earth [possessed] the body that had served toward his championship, and the creation divided the athlete between itself. And yet, it was possible [even] for him to be translated like Enoch, and to be snatched away like Elijah, whom he emulated; but God, being a lover of humanity and giving us ten thousand ways to be saved, distributed to us this path along with the others, sufficient to encourage us toward virtue, having left the relics of the saints with us for the time being. For after the power through the Word,

secondary rank, after the power of speech, to awaken into the same zeal the souls of those who behold them. ^A And if anyone, upon arriving at this place, takes such a perception of this operation, he immediately receives a clear sense of it. For the very sight of the casket falls upon the soul, striking and awakening it, and it acts upon it just as if the one lying there were praying along with him, and were standing by, and were seen to be present. Then, the man who has been so moved is filled with deep eagerness and, becoming a different man from what he was, departs from there. One might also learn this well: that the phantom of those who have departed from this place is generated in the souls of the living, by those who are mourning. We see that they, upon arriving at the tombs of the dead, stand there as if they saw those who are lying in the tomb standing before them, and immediately recall them from the threshold. Many, indeed, being affected by an intolerable grief, have established their permanent dwelling near the tombs of the dead, which they would not have done if they had not perceived some consolation from the sight of the place. And why do I speak of the place and the tomb? For often the sight of the garment alone of those who have departed, or a single word recalled to the mind, has awakened the soul and brought back a failing memory. ^B And these are the reasons why God has left us the relics of the saints.

XII. And that I am not now speaking these things merely by way of boasting, but that they have actually occurred for our benefit, the miracles performed by the martyrs every day are enough to confirm the account, as well as the multitude of men who thus flock together, and no less than these, the glorious deeds of this blessed man even after his decease. For since he was buried as he had requested, and a long time passed after his burial, so that naught but bones and dust remained in the coffin, it seemed good to one of those who reigned after, that the casket should be brought to this suburb of Daphne: and it seemed good to God, Who moved the mind of the Emperor for this matter. For when He saw the place obsessed by the lasciviousness of the youths, as if by a certain tyranny, so that there was a risk of it being completely abandoned by more respectable men, and by those who wished to live uprightly, He was moved to mercy by such a loss, and sent one to avenge the insult. For God had made that place pleasant and desirable, in the abundance and beauty of its waters, and in the nature of the soil and the temperate climate, not only that we might be refreshed therefrom, but that we might also celebrate the supreme Architect on account of this. ^C Furthermore, the enemy of our salvation, who always abuses God’s gifts in the opposite direction, seeing the place occupied by a crowd of corrupt youths and the dwellings of demons, abused its reputation with a foul fable, because of which fable the suburb was being consecrated to the demon. But the fable is of this sort.

The History of Daphne: They say that she was a maiden, and the daughter of the Ladon river; for it was a custom for those erring ones always to represent rivers as begetting, for they introduce the offspring thereof as something inanimate, and invent many such monstrous things. They say that Apollo once saw this maiden, being very beautiful, and was captivated by her love; and that as he pursued her to take her, the maiden fled, and stopped in this suburb. Then they say that her mother rendered aid to her daughter, that she might not suffer injury, and immediately received the virgin into her wide-open bosom, and brought forth a plant of the same name in place of the girl; and the lascivious lover, cheated of his amours, embraced the tree, and made both the plant and the place itself his own: and that from thenceforth he always abides in the place, and prefers it to all others that are in the world, and cherishes it above all. ^D They say also that the king who was then reigning constructed a temple and an altar, that the demon might be able to console his insanity through this place. This is the fable; but the damage that arose from the fable was no longer a fable. For after the lascivious youths contaminated the beauty of the suburb, as was said, living there in revellings and drunkenness, and so that this evil might be propagated day by day, the devil invented the fable, and set the demon there, so that this history might prepare a greater conflagration of lasciviousness and impiety for them.

To remove such great evils, therefore, the Emperor devised this most wise method, to transfer that holy one, and to send a physician to the sick. For if he had forbidden the citizens the way to the suburb by imperial order and authority, it would have seemed tyrannical, nay, full of cruelty and savagery; but if he had permitted only the good and modest to approach, while closing the path to the lascivious and intemperate, the decree would have been full of difficulty, whence it would have been necessary for quarrels to arise daily, while the life of each individual was being investigated. Thus he believed that the presence of the holy man would bring the best solution to these evils: for he understood that a martyr was equal to dissolving the power of the demon and amending the luxury of the youths: nor was he deceived in his hope. For immediately as someone arrives at Daphne, and sees the martyr’s shrine from the threshold of the suburb, he is restrained, just as if some youth in a banquet were to see a tutor standing by, and by his eye commanding him to drink, eat, speak, laugh, and take care that he does not exceed the measure and dishonor his reputation: and becoming more religious from such a sight, and representing that blessed one to himself in his mind, he immediately hastens to the casket; and when he has arrived there, he is affected with greater fear; soon, with cowardice driven far away, having become, as it were, winged, he departs. And those whom he meets on the way ascending from the city, he sends back, recreated, to Daphne with like temperance, almost shouting out that voice: *Exult in the Lord with trembling* (Ps. II, 11), and adding that apostolic saying: *Whether you eat, or whether you drink, or whatever else you do, do all to the glory of God* (1 Cor. X, 31). But those who go down to the city having taken food, if it happens that they have acted more loosely with the bridle shaken off, and have fallen into excess and absurd delights, them, I say, he does not allow, when they are received in their inn while drunk, to depart home affected by the damage of drunkenness, but with fear struck into them, he leads them to the same temperance which they were observing before they delved into drunkenness. For indeed, a certain thin breeze, as it were, blows through those who have been at the shrine from every side; a breeze, I say, not sensible or fit for increasing the body, but which penetrates into the soul itself, and composes it decently from every side, and shears off every earthly weight, and refreshes the burdened and falling one, and makes it lighter.

13. And the beauty of Daphne indeed calls even the more slothful to itself; but the martyr, sitting as if in a fishing-net and lying in wait for those who enter, holds them there for a time, and having first composed them, thus lets them go—not in order to have them use the beloved for insult, but for propriety. For since some people, by reason of sloth or worldly cares, are unwilling to approach the shrines of the martyrs, God has ordained that they be snared in this way, and so enjoy the healing that is in the soul; and it becomes like a case where someone might manage to deceive a sick person, who is unwilling to accept beneficial medicines, by hiding the medicine in some sweet seasoning. ^B By this means, therefore, they are healed over time, to such a degree that for many, not only the pleasure itself, but even the longing for the holy one becomes an excuse for going up to the suburb; or rather, the more moderate ones come there for this reason alone, and those less than them for both, and those who are even more imperfect than these go up for the sake of the pleasure alone. But when they arrive, the martyr, having called them and feasted them with his own gifts, and having armed them well, leaves them to suffer no harm. ^C And it is equally wonderful that which happens there: for someone who was heavy and slothful to become sober, and as it were to be brought back from the midst of madness, or for someone who has fallen into a furnace to suffer nothing from the fire. For when the flame—that is, youth, and irrational boldness, and wine, and repletion—is pressing more severely upon the thoughts, the grace from the blessed one, descending through the eyes into the soul of the beholders, lulled the flame, and halted the conflagration, and instilled much reverence into the mind. And the tyranny of lewdness the blessed one thus dissolved; but how did he also extinguish the power of the demon? ^D First, by making his very waiting and the harm from the myth useless to him in these things, and later by actually driving the demon away. But before I tell of the manner of the expulsion, I ask you to note this: that he did not drive him out immediately upon coming up, but made him who remained useless, and gagged him, and rendered him more speechless than stones; for to overcome him while he was remaining was no less a feat than to expel him. And he who previously deceived everyone everywhere did not even dare to look at the dust of the blessed Babylas: so great is the power of the saints, whose shadows or garments even the living do not bear, but the dead also cause their shrines to tremble. So if someone disbelieves the things that happened through the apostles, let him, looking at present events, finally cease his impudence. For he who long ago was defeating all the things of the Greeks, being rebuked as if by a master by the martyr, ceased his barking, and uttered nothing. 14. For indeed at first it seemed that he was silent for this reason—because he was not sharing in the sacrifices and the other treatment. For such is the way of the demons: when they are nurtured by the savor, and the smoke, and the blood, they arrive like bloodthirsty and gluttonous dogs, ravening; but when there is no one to provide these things, they perish as if by a certain famine. As for the sacrifices and the disgraceful rites that were performed—for the mysteries are nothing else but strange loves, and injuries to boys, and corruption of marriages, and the overturning of homes; for I pass over now the base manners of the murders and the feasts more lawless than murders—yet while these things were being performed, they were present and rejoiced, even if they who performed them were evildoers, or sorcerers, or plagues; or rather, there are no others who are ministers of these things. For a sober and moderate and grave man would not endure the banquet and the drunkenness, nor would he utter a disgraceful word himself, nor hear any other acting so shamelessly. ^B And yet he should have, if he were concerned for human virtue and had a slight regard for the well-being of those who were present to him, sought nothing more than the best life and the correctness of morals, and dismissed all that shameful feast. But since nothing is more precious to them than the destruction of men, they both delight in and claim to be honored by these things which destroy our life, and drag up all good things by the roots. 14. ^C That he was silent in the first place, therefore, also seemed to be for this reason, but he was convicted afterwards, being fettered by a strong necessity. For the fear that compelled him, lying upon him like a certain bridle, prevented him from using his accustomed deception against men. Whence is this clear? But do not be disturbed; for I shall proceed to the proof itself, after which it will not be allowed even for those who have practiced being impudent to do so, whether concerning those ancient matters, or the power of the martyr, or the weakness of the demon. For I do not need to make this clear by some conjectures and probabilities, but I will provide the testimony of the demon himself concerning these things. For he himself has given you the timely blow, and has cut off all your boldness. But do not be angry with him; for he did not cast down his own things willingly, but was doing this as he was compelled by a greater power. ^D How, then, did this happen, and what was the manner? Upon the death of the emperor who had translated the martyr, he brought forward his brother to take in hand the rule, who had also formerly given him that honor; and this man receives the kingdom without the diadem: for such was the measure of the authority of the brother who had died. Being a sorcerer and a profane man, he at first feigned to think the thoughts of Christ, because of him who had given him the rule; but when this one also departed this life, having cast off the mask henceforth, with bare head, he brought into the midst that superstition which he had long concealed, and made it manifest to all, and orders were sent everywhere in the inhabited world for the temples of idols to be repaired, for altars to be raised, for the old honors to be rendered to the demons, and for many revenues to be provided to them from many sources. From there, magi, and sorcerers, and prophets, and omen-readers, and mendicant priests, and workshops of every kind of sorcery were running together from everywhere in the world, and it was possible to see the palace filled with dishonorable men and fugitives. For some of them were long perishing from famine, others had been caught in poisonings and wicked deeds, and were inhabiting prisons and working in mines, while others were with difficulty able to provide a living for themselves from shameful trades…

Chapter 15: The ridiculous response of the demon

^A and sacrilegious prophets immediately became held in high honor. The Emperor, for his part, sent forth generals and prefects, and left nothing undone; he took men who had prostituted themselves and harlots brought out from the brothels where they resided, and led them around with him through the whole city and its suburbs. The imperial horse, and all the bodyguards, followed at a great distance behind; the panders and procuresses and the whole chorus of the prostitutes surrounded the Emperor as he walked in the middle of the forum, shouting such words and pouring forth such jests as it is fitting for people of such a factory to do. We know, furthermore, that those who come after us will think these things incredible because of the magnitude of their absurdity; for not even a private citizen, among those who have lived a vile and shameful life, would wish to act so indecorously in public. But to those who are still alive, there is no need for a speech; for those who were present and saw such things will surely hear of them now. ^B I write these things while the witnesses are still alive, so that no one might think that I, telling of ancient events to those who are ignorant, am lying with great license. For both old men and young who saw these things are still surviving, and I ask them all: if anything has been added by me, let them come forward and refute me. But they cannot refute me for having added anything; for what I have omitted, they can; for the excess of the turpitude cannot be represented in speech.

To those who will not believe it, I say this: that the demon among you, whom you call Venus, is not ashamed to use such ministers. It is not, therefore, surprising if that miserable man, who had entirely surrendered himself to the mockery of demons, was not affected by shame concerning those things in which even the gods whom he himself worshipped boasted. Who, then, could recount the necromancy and the slaughter of children? For these sacrifices, which men dared to offer before the coming of Christ, and which ceased after his coming, he attempted to reinstitute, though not indeed openly; for even though he was Emperor and did everything according to his own will, yet the impiety and inhumanity of the deed surpassed the magnitude of his power. ^C Nevertheless, they dared to do this. The Emperor, frequently ascending to Daphne with many votive offerings, and performing the sacrifice of many victims, and making torrents of blood flow from the slaughter of cattle, pressed vehemently, seeking an oracle from the demon and asking for a report on the things that occupied his mind. But that "strenuous" one, who "knows the number of the sand and the measure of the sea, and understands the deaf and hears the mute," as he himself says, did not indeed wish to say openly and clearly that his mouth was stopped and he could not speak because of the blessed Babylas and that neighboring power, fearing lest he move his worshippers to laughter, or be caught openly defeated, he revealed the cause of his silence; nay, he declared himself to be more ridiculous than the silence itself; for by his silence he demonstrated only his own weakness, but then he betrayed both weakness and at the same time turpitude and impudence, while he attempted to conceal things which could not be concealed.

What, therefore, is this cause of silence? "Daphne," he said, "is a place full of corpses, and that hinders the oracle." But how much better it would have been, O wretch, to confess the virtue of the martyr than to brazenly put forward these excuses! This is what the demon ^D answered, and the foolish Emperor, as if playing on a stage and acting out a drama, immediately went to the blessed Babylas. And yet, O most wicked and most wretched of men, if you were not deceiving yourselves of your own accord and using simulation to the ruin of others, why do you mention corpses indiscriminately, while you, as if you had heard him mention him by name and distinctly, leave the others and remove only the holy one? For it behooved you, according to the opinion of the demon, to dig up all the tombs in Daphne and to remove that "scarecrow" as far as possible from the sight of the gods. But, you will say, he did not speak of all corpses. Why, therefore, did he not profess it clearly? Certainly, he left this enigma to you who are acting out this fable of error. "I," says the demon, "speak of corpses, lest I openly admit I am defeated, and besides I fear to name the holy one; understand what has been said, and remove only the holy one; for he has indeed stopped our mouth." He recognized the madness of his own worshippers, such that they could not perceive such an open fraud; for even if they were all out of their minds and insane, not even then could they have covered up the knowledge of their own disaster; for it was so clear and manifest to all. For if certain things are polluted and execrable, as you say, [such as] human corpses, how much more so are those of brutes—inasmuch as this kind is viler than that—and indeed, many corpses of dogs, apes, and asses are buried near the temple, which it was more appropriate to move, unless perhaps you think humans are viler than apes. Where now are those who insult the beautiful creation of God, namely the sun, which was created for our service, and attribute that star to the demon, and affirm that this is that? For the sun, with countless corpses lying on the earth, radiates over the whole world, and nowhere does it contract pollution by fear of the rays or the efficacy of the rays; but your god does not shun or hold in hatred a shameful life, nor trickery, nor slaughter; but he loves, embraces, and cherishes them; yet he shrinks from our bodies, although a species of malice, even to those performing it, might seem worthy of the highest reproach; but a dead and motionless body is liable for neither fault nor reproach. But this is the institution of your gods, to abhor what ought not be abhorred, and to worship and approve of those things which are worthy of all hatred and execration. And a good man will not be deterred by a dead body from either sound counsel or an honest action; but if he be of a sound mind, even if he have his dwelling at the very graves, he will exhibit both temperance, and justice, and every virtue. Every craftsman likewise will do all things pertaining to his art without hindrance, and will offer himself to those who ask, not only sitting near corpses, but even if it were necessary to construct the very tombs of the departed; both the painter, and the stonemason, and the builder, and the coppersmith, and indeed all contribute their labor; yet Apollo alone of all says he is hindered by corpses from foreseeing future events. And yet, even among us, there have been great and marvelous men who predicted future events a thousand and four hundred years ago, and prophesied without requiring any of these things, and did not complain, did not order the tombs of the dead to be destroyed, and to cast out those lying there, and to devise a strange and shameless method of grave-robbing; but they did not even think such things among their own people.

are those living among the godless and polluted; others were in the midst of the barbarians, where all things truly worthy of pollution and defilement were established, and yet they foretold everything with truth, and the defilement of others did not prevent them from their prediction. Why so? Because those spoke what they spoke, truly being energized by a divine power, while the demon, being empty and destitute of that energy, had nothing to foretell, and yet, so as not to appear at a loss, was compelled to invent plausible and simply laughable excuses. For why, tell me, in the past time did he never say or utter anything of the sort? Because then he had the lack of worship as an excuse, but when this defense was taken away from him, he fled to the dead, being anxious lest he suffer some harm. For he did not wish to act indecorously, but you compelled him, by your excessive attentions having cut off his defense, and not leaving him any refuge in a scarcity of sacrifices.

16. ^B Having heard these things, that hypocrite ordered the coffin to be brought down, so that the defeat might be clear and manifest to everyone. For if he had said, "Because of the saint I cannot speak, but do not touch anything or harass me further," it would have become clear only to his own people; for they would not have brought this out to others, being ashamed. But now, as if eager to make a spectacle of his own weakness, he compelled all things to be done through which it was not possible even if he wished to veil what had happened. For it was no longer possible to preserve the hypocrisy, because none of the other dead but only the martyr was moved from that place. And not only those who inhabited the city, the suburb, and the fields, but also those standing far away from the villages, even not seeing the coffin lying there, then inquiring the cause, immediately learned that the demon, requested by the king to prophesy, said he could not do this until someone removed the blessed Babylas from there. And yet, o laughable one, it was possible for you to take refuge in other excuses, as you often do, contriving ten thousand things in your straits; to the Lydian ^C you said that by crossing the Halys river he would destroy a great empire, and showed him on the pyre; and in the case of Salamis, using that wise one himself, and adding the laughable combination; for to say "You will destroy the sons of women" was like the Lydian's, but to add, "Either with Demeter scattering, or gathering," was a matter for greater laughter, and resembled the things said by charlatans at the crossroads. But you did not even want this. And it was possible to hide the word in obscurity; for this is always your art; but all were pressing again, ignorant and seeking a solution. And it was possible for you ^D to take refuge in the stars; for you often do this too, and you are not ashamed or even blush. For your discourse is not toward men of understanding, but toward cattle and those more irrational than cattle. Were they not wiser than the Greeks who hear these things, and who were not departing from the deception? But do they see through the lie? Therefore it was necessary to tell the truth to the priest alone, and he would have found better than you how to veil your defeat. But now who persuaded you, wretch, to cast yourself into such manifest shamelessness? But perhaps you yourself did nothing wrong, but the king feigned poorly, having heard indiscriminately about the dead, but having come only to the saint; he refuted you and laid bare the deception, but not even he willingly; for it was not of the same person to honor with so many offerings, and again to insult the same; but the power of the martyr blinded everyone at once, and did not let them perceive what was happening, but everything was done as against the Christians, but the laughter was turned not upon those suffering, but upon those doing it. Thus also the crazed seem to always defend themselves against those nearby, kicking walls, and saying things, both sayable and unsayable, as evils to those present; but they disgrace by what they do not those others, but themselves; which is exactly what happened then. For the coffin was being dragged through the whole road, but the martyr was returning like some athlete to his own city, bringing a second crown, in which he also bound the first. So if anyone would not accept the resurrection, seeing the works of the martyr after his death as more brilliant, let him henceforth be ashamed. For as some champion, he joined trophies to trophies, greater to great ones and more wonderful to wonderful ones. For then he struggled against the king alone, but now against the king and the demon; and then he drove the ruler from the sacred surrounds, but now he led the corrupter away from the whole region of Daphne, not using a hand as before, but conquering the invisible with invisible power. And the murderer did not endure his boldness while he was living, and when he was dead, neither the king nor the demon who was moving the king to do these things endured his dust. For that he worked greater things for these in these second events than the former fear is clear from this. For the former took him and bound him and killed him, but these only moved him. For why did neither the former order the coffin to be submerged, nor did this one want to? Why did he not smash and burn it? Why did he not order it to be carried off to a desert and uninhabited place? For if it was pollution and defilement, and being loathsome, he moved it from there—not fearing—it was not right to introduce the pollution into the city, but to colonize it into mountains and forests.

17. But the wretch knew well that the power of the blessed one and his boldness toward God was no less than that of Apollo himself, and he feared that by doing this he might draw down thunderbolt or some other sickness upon himself. 564 For he had many proofs of Christ's power, both having been displayed in those who reigned before him, and in those who at that time were managing the empire under him. For of those who reigned long ago, those who dared such things, after many and unbearable calamities, miserably and pitiably ended their lives, as one—this was Maximinus—whose pupils automatically leaped out of his eyes while he was still living, while another was driven mad, another encountered some other such calamity, and thus departed from here. And of those who were with him at that time, one was his uncle, who in a more youthful manner used his madness against us...

and daring to touch the sacred vessels with wicked hands; and not content with this, having proceeded to further outrage (for he turned them upside down, placed them on the ground, and sat upon them), he suddenly paid the penalty for this unlawful session: for his privates, rotting, were swarming with worms, so that it was manifest that the disease had been sent by God; and physicians, to heal the wound, applying fat and foreign birds to the putrefying members, sought to draw out the worms: but they did not depart, but clung biting to the putrid parts, and thus, having consumed him for many days, they miserably destroyed him. Another person, set over the guardianship of the imperial treasury, before he could pass the threshold of the imperial hall, suddenly burst asunder and paid the penalty for a similar outrage. ^B Reflecting upon these things and more (for it is not the time now to recount them all), the wicked man did not dare to advance his temerity further. And that I do not say these things of myself, it will be made clear from those things which were afterward done by him; meanwhile, let us follow the sequence of events.

The Temple and Statue of Apollo Struck by Fire from Heaven

What then happened thereafter? It is truly a thing to be admired, that it shows not only the power, but also the ineffable kindness of God. For the holy martyr was within the precinct where he had been stationed before he came into Daphne; but the malignant demon learned immediately that he had labored in his frauds in vain, and that it was not with a dead man that he would have a battle, but with one who was living, acting valiantly, and who was stronger not only than himself, but than all the demons at once. For having besought God to send fire into the temple, he burned the whole roof, and having consumed the idol even to the very feet, so that only dust and ash remained, he left the walls alone standing and intact. If anyone were to go to the place now, he would by no means say that it was the work of mere fire: for that conflagration does not appear to have been made without order, nor from lifeless matter; but as if some hand were guiding the fire and pointing out which things should be spared and which should be consumed, with such symmetry and such art was the temple uncovered; nor is it similar to those affected by fire, but to those whose walls are intact and which only need a roof. For the rest of the structure and the columns, ^C as well as those which supported the roof and the vestibule, except for one which was placed toward the back of the temple, all are standing. Yet this one was not broken then without reason, but for that cause which we are about to speak of. When this happened, immediately the priest of the demon was dragged to the tribunal and forced to name the author of the conflagration. When he could not, they tortured him by dislocating his elbows and applying many blows, then hanging him up and whipping his sides, yet they learned nothing more; and it happened just as at the resurrection of Christ. For then soldiers were stationed to guard the body of Jesus, for fear, he says, that the disciples might craftily steal it away (Matthew 27:64): but the outcome of the matter was such that not even to the impudent who wished to destroy the faith of the resurrection was any pretext left. Here too the priest was dragged, that he might testify that it was not by divine wrath, but by human wickedness that it happened. Yet, though twisted and lacerated, since he could not name anyone, he testified that the fire had been sent from God, that no room might be left for those acting impudently. But that which I deferred to another place a little before, I will now say opportunely. What is that? The martyr so terrified his spirit that he did not dare to advance further. For after he had afflicted with such sufferings the priest, whom previously he held in such honor, on account of the charred roof—so that, had not the matter seemed abominable to all, he would perhaps not have abstained from eating his flesh—he would not have led that holy man, who had obstructed the mouth of the demon, back into the city to be in greater honor; for if not before, when the demon confessed himself defeated, at least after the conflagration would he have overturned and destroyed everything, and burned the casket and both martyria, both that in Daphne and that which was in the city, had not fear overcome anger and dread prevailed over grief. For many are accustomed, when they are seized by anger and grief, if they cannot apprehend the authors of their sickness, to pour their anger upon anyone they meet or suspect. But the martyr was not far from this suspicion: for as soon as he arrived in the city, the fire immediately invaded the temple. But, as I said, affection fought with affection, and fear overcame anger. For consider what sort of man that good man could have been, when, ascending to the suburb, he saw the martyrium standing, and the temple burned, the idol destroyed, the offerings consumed, the memory of his own liberality and of the satanic pomp removed. Even if, seeing such things, neither anger nor sadness had invaded him, he certainly would not have borne the shame, but only laughter; yet he would have extended his wicked hands upon the blessed martyr, had not that which I said restrained him. ^D For it was no small thing that was being done then, but it had cut off all the confidence of the Greeks, and had extinguished all their joy; and it had cast upon them such a fog of sadness as if all their temples had perished at once. I shall proceed, then, to utter the very words of the lament and monody which the city’s sophist then produced against this demon. The dirge has this beginning: "Men, upon whose eyes, just as upon mine, a fog has been cast, let us no longer call this city beautiful or great." Then, after he had said some things and asserted something about the myth of Daphne (for it is not the time to weave the whole speech here, lest we be longer than is fitting), he says: "The king of the Persians once, who took the city, spared the temple": the words themselves are these: "He who led an army against us thought fit to spare the temple, and the beauty of the statue prevailed over barbarian fury. But now, O sun, O earth! who or whence is this enemy, who, needing neither soldiers of heavy armor, nor cavalry, nor light-armed troops, has consumed everything with a small spark?" Afterward, when he declared that the demon was defeated then by him (Babylas) when the matters of the Greeks were most flourishing with sacrifices and initiations: "And our temple," he says, "did not the vast flood destroy, but—"

dragged it—but to mention the calm weather and the passing of the cloud; for he calls the time of the previous Emperor a "cloud" and a "deluge." And proceeding a little further, he laments this very same thing more bitterly, saying: "Then, while your altars were thirsting, O Apollo, you remained a precise guard of Daphne, even when being treated with contempt; and in places where you were even insulted and mocked, you endured by cutting off the outside world. But now, after many sheep and many oxen, having received on your foot the holy mouth of the Emperor, and having seen whom you foresaw, and having been seen by the one who was prophesied, delivered from an evil neighborhood, and with some dead man bothering you from nearby, you have jumped out from the middle of your ministrations." From where shall we still be ^A ambitious before men who remember shrines and statues? What do you say, O mourner? While being dishonored and mocked, he remained a sure guard of Daphne; but while being honored and ministered to, he could not even keep his own temple, and this, despite knowing that if that one fell, he would be reduced to a greater dishonor than the former? And who is the dead man, O sophist, who bothers your god? What is the evil neighborhood? For having fallen into the noble deeds of the blessed Babylas, and not being able to swim through the shame, he simply passed over it saying that the demon was troubled and distressed by the martyr, but not adding how, in striving to veil his defeat, the demon rather uncovered it—for he says simply: "Delivered from an evil neighborhood." For why do you not say, O master of trifles, who the dead man was, and why he alone bothered your god, and why he alone was being moved? And why do you call him an evil neighborhood, tell me? Because he exposed the deception of the demon? And yet, this was not the work of an evil neighborhood, nor even of a dead man, but of one living, working, upright, interceding, acting as a caretaker ^B and guardian, and managing everything for your salvation, if you had only wished. For so that it might not be permitted to you to deceive yourselves any further, and say that he withdrew willingly because he was angry, and complained about the sacrifices, and was displeased with the other ministrations, for this reason he banished him from this whole place, which was most dear to him of all, and which he had preferred to others so much that he remained there even while being dishonored. For you said this in anticipation: "And in this time, in which the Emperor was slaughtering many sheep and many oxen for him"—so that it is refuted from every side that he left Daphne because he was being compelled and pushed by a greater power. For it was possible for him to drive him away even while the statue remained, but you would not have believed it, just as you did not believe it long ago when he was fettered by him, but kept on ministering. Therefore, having previously allowed the statue to stand, when the fire of impiety was most kindled, then he brought it down, showing that one must conquer the victor in such a way—not when ^C adversaries are humbled, but when they are flourishing and proud. For why did he not, at that time, order the Emperor who brought him up to Daphne to tear down the temple and change the place of the statue, just as he did with the casket? Because he was neither harmed by it, nor did he require bodily assistance; but both then and now, he cast it down without human hand. And although he did not reveal the victory to us then, he silenced him and remained quiet. For such are the saints: they wish only for that which pertains to the salvation of men to be accomplished, not for it to be displayed to the many—unless some need might compel them. And by "need," I mean again the care of those being saved, which is what happened then. For since the evils of deception were increasing, the victory is finally revealed to us; and it is revealed not by the one who overcame, but by the one who was overcome himself. ^D For thus both the martyrdom was unsuspicious even among enemies, and the saint avoided speaking about himself, and when there was no need; but since even so the errors did not end, but those more insensible than the stones were yet standing by, encouraging the defeated one, and were blind to such an evident truth, at that time he was forced to let loose the fire upon the statue, so that through this burning, he might extinguish another burning of idolatry.

19. Why then do you blame the demon, saying that "you have jumped out from the middle of your ministrations"? Did he not jump out willingly? But he was banished and driven out against his will and was compelled, at the time when he most wanted to remain, both because of the savor and because of the sacrifices. For just as the one who was then ruling, having become emperor to this end, that he might consume the livestock of the whole world, was so unstintingly slaughtering sheep and oxen upon the altars, and was driven to such a madness that many of those who seemed to be philosophers among them were calling him a cook, and a meat-seller, and calling him by all such names. The demon, therefore, would not have departed willingly from such a lavish table, and savor, and smoke, and torrents of blood, and remaining without these, as you said, because of his madness for his beloved. But, pausing our argument for now, let us again listen to the lamentations of the sophist. For, having left Apollo, he again laments to Zeus, saying: "What a respite from a labored mind we have been deprived of, O Zeus! How free from clamor the place of Daphne is, and the temple even freer, as if nature had made a harbor upon a harbor; both were free from waves, but the second provided more quiet. Who would not have shed his sickness there? Who would not have shed his fear? Who would not have shed his grief? Who would have desired the islands of the blessed?" What respite have we been deprived of, O wretch? And how is the temple freer from clamor, and a harbor free from waves, where there are pipes, and drums, and hangovers, and revels, and drunkenness? "Who would not have shed his sickness there," he says? Who indeed of those who were attached to you would not have received a sickness there, even if he happened to be healthy beforehand, and the most grievous sickness of all? For he who worships the demon, and hears the story of Daphne, and sees the madness of the god to be so great that even after his beloved was swallowed up, he still remained in the place and by the tree—how much of a flame of madness would he not have received from there? How much of a storm? How much clamor? How much sickness? How much passion? Do you call this a respite of the soul, and a harbor free from waves? Do you call this a deliverance from sickness? And what is to be wondered at if you posit the opposites as being equal? For those who are mad do not perceive the nature of things as it is, but issue judgments that are the opposite of what exists. Oympia, not very far—for I will return again to the lamentation, showing how much

did all those then inhabiting the city receive the blow; and I shall make it clear that the Emperor would not have taken this calmly, but would have poured out all his fury upon the martyr’s shrine, had not a greater fear restrained him? What, then, does he say? "Olympia is not very far off; the congregation will summon the cities; they will come driving oxen for sacrifice to Apollo." What shall we do? Where shall we shelter ourselves? Which of the gods will command the earth to yawn open for us? What herald, what trumpet will not draw forth tears? Who will call the Olympics a festival, when this recent calamity has brought on mourning? "Give me a horned bow," says the tragedy. But I say, and with some prophetic foresight, "in order that I might catch him, that I might strike with arrows the author of this crime." O impious audacity! O impure soul! O rash hand! This is another Tityus, or Idas the brother of Lynceus; not as great as he, not such a marksman as he, but taught for one purpose: to rage against the gods. He seeks to compel the sons of Aloeus, who are plotting treachery against the gods, to die, Apollo; yet to this man, carrying fire from afar, a shaft did not fly to pierce his heart. O furious right hand! O wicked fire! Where did it strike first? Where was the beginning of the evil? Did it start from the roof and proceed to the rest? To that head, to that face, to the phial, to the turban, to the long robe? Vulcan, the custodian of fire, did not threaten the blazing fire, although he owed gratitude to the god for a signal given to him long ago. But neither did Jupiter, the moderator of the rains, send water onto the flame—he who had, nevertheless, extinguished the pyre for the Lydian king in his hour of peril. What did he say first to him who had begun the war? Whence that confidence? How did he save his momentum? Why did he not dissolve his own decree, out of reverence for the beauty of the god? How long, wretched and unhappy man, will you not understand, you who say that these are the work of human hands, and who, as if possessed, fight and struggle with yourself? For if the King of the Persians, leading such an army, having captured the city and burned all the other temples, was carrying a torch in his hands, and was already about to apply it to the temple, the daemon changed him; for you said in the beginning of your dirge: "The King of the Persians, one of his predecessors, who is waging war with us, when he had captured and burned the city, moved by the deity, abandoned the torch and worshiped Apollo; so much did he soften and convert him by his presence." He, I say, the daemon who was able to overcome barbaric fury and such an army, as you said, and was able to escape such a danger at that time, and who, as you add, quelled the Aloidae when they were plotting treachery against the gods: how, I ask, is it that he who could do such great things has done nothing of the kind now? And yet, if nothing else, he should at least have had compassion on the priest being unjustly mangled, by producing the author of the crime. And if indeed he escaped at the time of the conflagration, yet when that wretch was being hung and his sides torn open, and when he was asked to declare the author of the crime and had no one to name, then surely it was the time to stand the criminal forth and produce him, or at least to indicate him, if he could not produce him. But now the ingrate neglects to look upon his own servant being unjustly mangled, he neglects the Emperor himself, who is making a mockery of himself with so many victims; for he was ridiculed by all as a madman and one deprived of his senses, when he was pouring his anger out upon that miserable man. ^A But how did he who, as you also said in your earlier dirge, was predicting the arrival of the Emperor while he was still far off, not see him who was standing nearby and burning himself? And yet you say that he is a prophet, and assign other arts to your other gods as if they were men; you have ascribed to him the faculty of prophecy, yet you do not ask him to share his art with you. How does he not know his own calamities, which not even a man would fail to know? Did he perhaps fall asleep when the fire was being kindled? But he is not so devoid of sense that he would not rise immediately when the flame was applied, and seize the one who applied it. Verily, the Greeks are always children; there is no old man among the Greeks. For when you ought to be lamenting your own stupidity, because even though the events themselves cry out the deception of the demons, you do not recoil, but casting yourselves into destruction and betraying your own salvation, you are driven like cattle wherever they wish to lead you, you who sit and mourn the destruction of statues. But you demand a bow, and differ in nothing from him who speaks these things in the tragedy. For how would it not be manifest fury to expect anything of this kind from arms which brought no help even to their possessor? But if you say that you possess more skill and experience than the daemon, then he should certainly not be worshiped, as being more unskilled and weaker, even in those things in which you say he excels. But if you concede the first place to him, whether one ought to throw the javelin or prophesy, how did you, possessed of only a part of the art, think that you could perform those things which he who holds the entire art could not? He had some art of prophecy, nor if he had possessed it, could he have exercised it. For it was not a man, it certainly was not this that performed these things, but a divine power; but I will reveal the cause later. Meanwhile, however, it is right to learn for what reason he accuses Vulcan of ingratitude with these words: "But Vulcan, the custodian of fire, did not threaten the blazing fire, although he owed gratitude to the god for a signal given to him long ago." What gratitude? What signal long ago? Why do you hide the glorious deeds of your gods? For if you were to disclose the gratitude, you would show Vulcan to be all the more ungrateful. But you are held back by shame and modesty; therefore we will freely open up your affairs. What, then, is that gratitude? They tell the story that Mars was once taken with love for Venus, and that Vulcan, who was her husband, fearing for her, approached her when he had observed him in his absence. Apollo, however, when he had seen them joined together, reported the adultery to Vulcan; and that he, when he had come there, and found both in bed, bound them with chains as they were, and summoned the gods to the shameful spectacle, and took such vengeance upon them for the adultery. He says, therefore, that Vulcan, being a debtor of such gratitude, was ungrateful in rendering the benefit when the time demanded it. What then of Jupiter, O best of men? For you also accuse him of inhumanity, saying, "But neither did Jupiter..."

605 S. JOANNIS CHRYSOSTOMI ARCHIEP. CONSTANTINOP. ^C cast rain upon the fire, as he once extinguished the pyre for the Lydian king in his misfortune. But you have done well to remind us of the Lydian; for that vile demon deceived him also, puffed him up with vain hopes, and cast him into manifest ruin. And had Cyrus not been a man of humanity, Zeus would have availed him nothing. Thus, you complain in vain to Zeus for having preferred the Lydian to his own son; for he did not even defend himself in the city where he was honored above all others—I mean the city of Romulus—when he was struck by the thunderbolt.

But let us listen to the remaining words of the lament; for in this way we shall well understand the grief that had occupied their souls. "Men," [it says], "I am drawn in my soul toward the likeness of the god, and my reason sets before my eyes his form: the gentleness of his countenance, the softness of his skin—and this in stone—the golden tunic gathered at the breast by a girdle, so that some parts seem to settle and others to rise up. And what whole appearance would not have calmed a seething temper? For he seemed to be singing a melody, and indeed some, it is said, heard him playing the kithara at midday. O happy ears!" Then the song was, it seems, a praise of the land, unto which it appears to me he also pours a libation from his golden cup, because it hid the maiden while she was being pursued and gathering herself together. Then, lamenting briefly over the conflagration: "He was shouting," he says, "the traveler of the same [temple] divine, and the occupant of Daphne, the priestess of the god, was thrown into confusion. But the blows upon the breast, and a certain sharp wailing running through the thickly-wooded place, falls upon the city, terrible and ^D dreadful; and the eyes of the ruler, having just tasted sleep, were awakened by a bitter word from his couch." 371

He continues in a frenzy, asking for wings from Hermes, and then he himself set out in search of the root of the evil, burning within no less than the temple. Beams were being carried down, bearing fire to whatever they touched and destroying it; first Apollo, since he stood but a little distance from the roof, and then the other beauties, the images of the Muses, the flashes of the stones, the grace of the columns. The crowd stood around together, lamenting and at a loss to help, as happens to those who see a shipwreck from the land, whose only help is to weep at what is taking place. Surely they raised a great [lament]—the nymphs leaping from the fountains, and great [was the lament] of Zeus sitting nearby, as is fitting for one disturbed over the honors of a son, and great the crowd of myriads of demons living in the grove—no less a lament than that of Calliope from the midst of the city, for the leader of the Muses' choir had been wronged by the fire. Then towards the end he says: "Be to me now also, Apollo, such as the son of Chryses made you when he cursed the Achaeans, full of anger and looking like the night, because, when we were returning your robes and replacing what had been carried away, the object of our honor was snatched away beforehand, like a bridegroom whose garlands were already being woven, but who has departed."

21. This was the lament, or rather, a few portions of the lament. I am moved to wonder how he thinks to glorify himself with these things, over which he ought rather to have veiled his head, doing nothing better than an intemperate and shameful youth playing the kithara at midday, and saying that the subject of his song was his beloved—and "O happy ears" that heard the shameful song!

And that some of those who dwelt in Daphne should weep, and those attached to them, and that the ruler of the city should burn with grief, and that they should do nothing more than lament, is not at all surprising. But that the gods themselves should be in the same state of helplessness, and weep among themselves, and that neither Zeus, nor Calliope, nor that great crowd of demons, nor even the nymphs themselves should suffice against the fire, but that they all should raise only wailings and lamentations—this is a thing full of much laughter.

That they were deeply stricken has been sufficiently demonstrated from what has been said; for indeed, somewhere in the midst of the monody he explicitly confessed that they had been struck in their most vital parts. The Emperor would not, therefore, have borne this calmly, were he not possessed by fear and greater trembling. It is time, then, to show the reason why God did not let loose his wrath upon the emperor, but upon the demon, and why the fire did not destroy the whole temple, but while destroying the roof, it also put the idol to the test. For these things did not happen simply or without any cause, but everything was done out of God's philanthropy for those who are being led astray. For He who knows all things before their birth knew, among other things, this: that if the thunderbolt had been brought down against the Emperor, those who were present and saw the blow would have been afraid for a time, but after a second or third year had passed, the memory of what had happened would have perished, and many would have been those who doubted the miracle. But if the temple were to receive the flame, it would proclaim the wrath of God more clearly than any herald, not only to those then present, but to all who should come after, so that the excuse would have been utterly removed for those wishing to be shameless and to cover up what had happened. For each one standing at that place, as if the conflagration had just occurred, has his soul so disposed, and a certain shuddering comes upon him, and looking up to heaven he straightway glorifies the power of Him who did these things. Just as if someone had broken into the cave and hideout of a brigand and brought out the prisoner living therein, and taking all his goods had left the place to be a refuge for wild beasts and jackals, and then each of those coming to that hideout, at the same time seeing the place, imagines and depicts to himself the raids, the thefts, and the very form of him who formerly inhabited it—so it happens here also. For seeing the columns from afar, and then coming and crossing the threshold, he depicts for himself the abomination of the demon, the deception, the machinations, and being struck with awe at the wrath and power of God, he departs; and the former structure of error and blasphemy now becomes a subject of doxology. So resourceful is our God. And these paradoxes are not now for the first time, but from above and from former generations He performs miracles. And it is not the present time to recount all, but I will mention a matter that seems similar to this. For when a war had once been stirred up in Palestine by the Jews against certain aliens, the enemies were victorious, and having taken the ark of God as a kind of booty and first-fruits, they dedicated it to a certain local idol—Dagon was his name. And the first time the ark was brought in, the wooden image fell and lay face down; and when they did not understand the power of the strength of God from this fall, [another...]

Chapter 21

^A...and placed it on its own base, returning the next day at dawn, they saw not only that it had fallen, but that it was utterly shattered. For the hands were torn from the shoulders and had flown to the threshold of the temple along with the feet, and the remaining part of the statue was found torn asunder in another place. And the land of Sodom, to compare small things with great, for that reason perished with its inhabitants by fire (Gen. 19), and remained unfruitful, so that not only the men of that age, but all who were to come after might be brought to a better state of mind by the places themselves. For if the punishment had reached only the men, the deed would not have been believed later. Therefore, the place receives the blow, which is not able to be destroyed by time, and reminds individual generations that it has been ordained by law that those who do such things shall suffer such things, even if they do not pay the penalty immediately, as happened in this temple. For look, the twentieth year is passing since that time, and yet no part of the building left by the fire has perished; but the parts that escaped the fire stand firmly, and are so solid that they could last for a hundred and twice more, and again twice more than that number of years. And what is wonderful is that not one of the columns was torn from another and fell to the ground. For of those columns that were at the rear of the temple, one only was broken, but it did not even fall, but remained moved from its base and reclined against the wall, so that its part from the bottom up to the fracture rests obliquely against the wall; but from the fracture up to the capital it stands supine, supported by the lower part. And although the winds have often blown vehemently against this place, and earthquakes have occurred, and the earth has been shaken, the remains of the flame have not been moved; but they stood almost crying out that they were preserved for the correction of those who were to come.

^BThat the fire did not consume everything, you might name this as the cause; but if you seek the cause why the lightning did not touch the Emperor, you will find another, flowing from that very same fountain of the kindness and clemency of Christ, turning the bolt away from the Emperor’s head, so that, taught by the calamities of others, he might avoid the penalty stored up for him, and having been changed, might be set free from error. And Christ did not give him this, nor the first sign of His own power alone, but many others not less than these. For both his uncle and his financial quaestor passed from life in this way; besides this, a famine invading the city together with him, and a lack of water such as had never been seen before, until sacrifices were made to the springs by him, and many other things, whether happening in the army or in the cities, could have moved even a heart of stone, not only by their multitude, and not because all the crimes followed immediately, as once in the time of the king of the Egyptians; but also because such miracles were brought about by themselves, so that one did not need another for the conversion of those who saw them, but each of them was sufficient in itself to accomplish that. For, to omit the rest, whom would it not have deterred, if not the most stupid, what kind of sign was displayed around the foundations of the old temple of Jerusalem? What was that? When the tyrant saw that the faith of Christ was spread through all his dominion, and had already occupied the borders of the Persians, and of other more distant barbarians, and had again advanced beyond them, and, so to speak, occupied the whole world: he was tormented in his soul and distressed, and was preparing a war against the Churches. But the wretched man was ignorant that he was kicking against the goad. And at first, he was attempting to restore the Jerusalem temple, which the power of Christ had utterly destroyed, the man of virtue and of paganism was taking charge of the affairs of the Jews, wishing to make a trial of Christ from thence; and having invited certain Jews, and ordered them to sacrifice (for he said their ancestors used this kind of worship), since the Jews were fleeing to this, because they said it was not lawful for them, with the temple destroyed, to do so outside the ancient metropolis, he orders money to be taken from the imperial treasury, and also all other things necessary for the structure, and to go and restore the temple and resume the ancient custom of sacrifices. Then those fools, wandering from the womb and needing childish instruction until they were gray, departed to carry out the affair with the Emperor’s favor: and as soon as they had begun to move the earth, fire leaping from the foundations consumed them at once. When these things were reported to the Emperor, he did not dare to advance the project any further, with fear surely restraining him; yet he did not wish to be delivered from the error of the demons, to whom he was plainly subject; meanwhile, however, he rested a little.

The manner of the persecution under Julian.

^CA short time after this he undertook a similarly vain effort, not indeed daring to build the temple any further, but wishing to fight us in skirmishes: for he still delayed attacking us in open war: for this one and primary reason, because he was persuaded that he would attempt it in vain; and for the second reason, lest he give us an opportunity to be crowned with martyrdom. For this was indeed intolerable to him, and heavier than any calamity, if any one produced into the midst persisted for the truth unto death in torments: so deeply did he declare himself our enemy. For he knew, he knew plainly, that if he dared this, all would give up their souls for Christ; but being malicious and cunning, he everywhere released all those who had suffered punishment from the leaders of the Church for some sin, or had been removed from some magistracy, in this way giving power to the most wicked, overturning the laws of the Church, and stirring up mutual conflict among them: for he hoped that they would be easy to conquer, when they had consumed themselves in an intestine war. He also orders a certain man, because of both his perverse doctrine and his wicked life, having been driven from ecclesiastical leadership, by the name of Stephanus, to occupy the teaching throne again, and he was taking care to extinguish the Lord’s name, as far as it could be done, calling us Galileans instead of Christians both in his edicts, and exhorting the leaders to do the same. Among so many signs, however, as I said, that were being manifested through famine and drought, he still persisted in the same impudence and hardness. And intending to undertake the Persian expedition, descending with such pride as if he were about to ravage the whole barbaric nation, he was breathing out six hundred threats against us, boasting...

even after his return from there, to destroy everyone utterly. For he thought this war [Persian] was more dangerous than the other, and that it behooved him to finish the lesser one first, and then to come to this greater one. And these things those who shared his counsel reported to us. But burning with anger against us, and every day rising to greater madness, he never stood by the same opinion, but putting aside his former plan, he threatened the persecution upon us again. But God, wishing to drive him back and to restrain him while he was inflamed, brought upon him again this sign, having sent the fire upon the temple in Daphne.

23. ^B But he did not even then abate his anger, but torn by the desire for our looting, he remained not even for a time in the things he had threatened; but intending to cross the Euphrates, he made an experiment of the soldiers, and having corrupted certain few in number by flattery, he did not release the ones who resisted from the service, fearing lest by separating them he might make the army weaker against the Persian. Who then among us will narrate the things that followed, and the things that happened in the desert, and in the sea, and in Egypt, when that senseless Pharaoh was being punished, and all were being drowned, which were far more terrible? For just as then, since the Egyptian was unwilling to become better from any of such calamities, He finally drowned him with his army, so also now, since he stood shamelessly against all the prodigies of God, and was unwilling to gain anything from them, but remained uncorrected, He finally involved him in extreme evils, so that, if he could not endure to be made prudent by the evils of others, others might become better through his sufferings. For he who brought down so many myriads of soldiers, as many as no one of those who ever reigned, and having expected to capture the whole land of the Persians by a raid and without sweat, ^C acted so wretchedly and piteously, as if he had with him a camp of women and small children rather than men. For first, indeed, he brought them into such necessity through his own folly, that they tasted of horse flesh, and some perished corrupted by famine, others by thirst. For as if commanding the Persians, and not striving to capture them, but to betray his own to them, so he shut them into impassable places, and all but bound handed them over. But all the calamities that happened there, neither any of those who saw and experienced them will be able to recount; so much did one surpass the other in excess; but to speak in summary, he having fallen shamefully and piteously. For some say that he died having been struck by one of the baggage-bearers who was discontented with the situation; others say that they do not even know his slayer, but only that he was struck and called for the land of the Cilicians for his burial, where he also now lies. Falling thus shamefully, the soldiers, seeing that they were in extreme distress, fell upon the enemies, and having given oaths that they would withdraw from that most secure of all fortresses—and he was, as it were, an unbreakable wall for our world—and having obtained the humanity of the barbarians, they thus escaped and returned, few from many, and they themselves having suffered in their bodies, ^D ashamed of the things they had agreed to, yet compelled by the oaths to withdraw from their ancestral possessions. And it was possible to see a spectacle more piteous than any captivity; for those living in that city, from whom they expected to receive thanks because they had established all those within the city as if in a harbor, having been themselves, instead of all, exposed to all the dangers always, suffered from these men the things of the enemies, migrating to a foreign land, and leaving houses and fields, and being torn from all their possessions, those of their ancestors, and enduring these things at the hands of their own.

Such were the benefits we enjoyed from the noble emperor. But these things have not been said simply, but so as to resolve the confusion of those who ask, why in the world did God not punish the emperor from the beginning? He wished indeed to restrain him often while he was raging in his forward course, and to correct him by the evils of others; but since he resisted, He handed him over to extreme evils, storing up the true retribution for his daring deeds for the great day, and through the present punishment awakening the more sluggish and making them more prudent. For such is the long-suffering of God, that to those who do not use it properly, it brings upon them a more bitter punishment at the end; and just as it is useful to those who repent, so also to the unyielding and hard it becomes a pretext for greater punishments. But if someone should say: Why then did God not foresee that the tyrant would be uncorrectable? We will say, that He did foresee it, but He never ceases to do His own work because of the foreknowledge of our wickedness; but even if we do not accept the admonition, He displays His own philanthropy. But if we push ourselves into greater evils, this is no longer from Him, nor did He show long-suffering for this, that we might perish, but that we might be saved, but it is from us who have acted insolently against His ineffable forbearance. And thus also the infinity of His philanthropy is shown. For when we ourselves do not want to enjoy His great long-suffering, then He turns it to the profit of others, everywhere displaying both His philanthropy and His resourcefulness together; which also happened then. And the tyrant thus ended his life, but of his madness and of the power of the blessed Babylas, the temple and the martyrdom remain as memorials, the one being desert, the other having the same efficacy which it had also before. The reliquary is no longer brought forth, God having ordained this also, so that the knowledge of the holy man's achievements might become more clear to those who come after. For each of those coming from a foreign land, arriving at the place, and seeking the martyr, then not seeing him there, immediately comes to seek the cause, and thus having heard the whole history departs, having gained more than before; so also having arrived at Daphne, and again leaving it, he profits most greatly. Such is the strength of the martyrs, both living and dying, and remaining in places, and again leaving them. For indeed from the beginning until the end the achievements were connected in a continuous series. For see, [the martyr] defended the laws of God being insulted, took the punishment he ought for the deceased; he showed how great is the distance between priesthood and emperorship, he dissolved all the pomp of the world.

IN JUVENTINUM ET MAXIMINUM MARTYRES

^A and trampled upon the phantom of life, he taught kings not to drive power beyond the measure given to them by God. He showed those in holy orders how they ought to preside over this authority. And these things, and more than these, he did while he was in the flesh; but when he moved on and departed, he enervated the strength of the demon, refuted the deception of the Greeks, exposed the vanity of sooth-saying, crushed its mask, and laid bare all its histrionic art, forcing him who seemed to preside over it to be struck dumb, and oppressing him with great vehemence. Today even the stones of the temple stand ^B proclaiming to everyone the shame of the demon, his laughter, and his weakness, but the martyr's crowns, his victory, and his power. Such is the strength of the saints, so invincible and formidable is it, both to emperors and to demons, and even to the prince of demons himself.

To the Father, and to the co-beginningless Spirit, now and always, and unto the unending ages of ages. Amen.

ADMONITION

Not only, as we said, does the location demonstrate that this discourse was delivered a few days after the homily on Babylas; but Chrysostom provides another indication of this fact shortly after the beginning. There was an Emperor, he says, even in our grandfather’s day, who was superior in impiety to those who preceded him, as I recently said at greater length. Indeed, many things in the preceding homily on Saint Babylas are said about Julian the Apostate. Do not think, however, that the sermon on Saint Babylas is a lengthy book; it is not a speech, nor is it a homily, nor was it ever recited in the assembly of the people, as we said in the preceding admonition; rather, it is handled as a homily preceding this one. We have not been able to assign a year to it, just as we could not for the homilies on Lazarus, nor to this one on the Holy Martyrs Juventinus and Maximinus. For while it seems certain that they were delivered in the same year and at the same time, it has not been possible to discover which year that was by any probable indication. Compare with this, if you will, the things we said in the preceding admonition.

The Latin interpretation is by a certain learned man, which we have corrected in many places.

BY THE SAME, A PANEGYRICAL SERMON ON THE HOLY MARTYRS JUVENTINUS AND MAXIMINUS, WHO SUFFERED MARTYRDOM UNDER JULIAN THE APOSTATE

^C The blessed Babylas formerly gathered us here with the children; today, however, a pair of holy soldiers has arrayed the army of Christ in the line of battle. Formerly, a chariot of martyrs; today, a pair of martyrs. Their age is different, but their faith is one; their struggles are varied, but their fortitude is the same: the former are older in time, the latter are more recent. Such is the treasure of the Church, having both new pearls and old; but the beauty of them all is one. Their flower neither withers nor falls away with time; the nature of this splendor does not know the rust of age. By the length of time, wealth that belongs to the body easily perishes; for garments are worn out, houses are destroyed, and gold is consumed by rust; and in sum, the nature of all sensible faculties is eventually abolished and destroyed by time. But it is not so with that which the Church has in her spiritual treasures concerning the martyrs (I speak of those who always remain in the same vigor, are always in the same ^D flower of youth, always emitting the brightness of their glory and their rays). Knowing this, you do not honor the saints differently—some in one way, others in another—but with the same eagerness, the same love, and the same affection you honor and commend them all. For you do not examine the time, but you seek out the fortitude of their souls, their piety, their unwavering faith, their zeal that is incited and fervent, and those virtues which the saints, to whose honor we are gathered today, display. For these were burning with such love for God that they were crowned with the martyr's crown even outside the time of persecution; without a battle they erected a trophy, without a war they gained a victory, without a struggle they seized the prize. And how shall I say this? But bear with me, as I relate it from a little further back.