Orations of Saint Gregory

SIMILARITIES USED BY ST. GREGORY NAZIANZEN IN HIS OWN WRITINGS, ARRANGED IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER

A

Equality of all things before God: and the prominent and lowly parts in bodies from which beauty is born, or even those which rise up from the earth and those which subside, 280. 259. Friendship, and the flame of fire, 183. The restoration of separated friends; and the reunion of plants pulled by force in opposite directions, 243. A friend after affliction, and succor after a hostile attack, or even a pilot after a storm, medicine after a scar, 785. Loves of bodies, and flowers of spring, or even flame, 497. ^A A wily soul endowed with unreliable faith, and a fox, 202. A soul adorned with a manifold sort of virtue and discipline, and a ship laden with every kind of merchandise, 25. The method of healing souls, and medicine for bodies, 389. The noble and excellent nature of the mind, occupied with vain studies, and unskilled athletes striking the air more than bodies, 33. The mind, and the way, 33. A prelate, and one who undertakes to tame and lead a manifold and varied beast, 406. Athanasius, and an adamant, or a magnet, 881. A miser, and wealth collected by plunder, 314. A miser, and hell, fire, sea, and if there are such things as cannot be filled, 712.

B

Ministers of baptism, whether upright or wicked; and rings of diverse material, 699. Those approaching baptism, and those suffering from fever, 251. Basil, and an eagle, 779. Basil, still a youth, and a young horse or calf, 819. 820. Basil, kind to those who perform their duty properly, but severe to those who sin, and a lion, or even an actor, 821. Basil, and the sun, 138. Those who cherish civil and domestic war, and those who attack their own flesh with bites, 320.

C

Calamities, and fire, 425. Charity, and plants pulled by force in different directions, and then released, 147. Christians not progressing daily in virtue, and hoops spun into a circle by the force of a lash, 623. Catholic Christians, and soldiers of the same army recognizing each other by the emblems of their armor, 138. Catholic Christians dissenting among themselves, and madmen who rage against their own flesh, 738. Dead Christians who are badly and wickedly torn apart in place, although they are bound by the bond of doctrine: and eyes distorted, seeing one and the same thing; and dissenting among themselves not by gaze, but only by position, 174. The tongues of Christians, and the cataracts of the Nile, or even a ray of the sun, 322. Christ, the salvation of some and the ruin of others; and a rule sparing the straight and cutting away the superfluous; and likewise the sun bringing splendor to healthy eyes, and obscuring the weak, 572. Christ permitting certain things to the Jews; and physicians to the sick, 32. A speech striking a pregnant mind, and iron the flint, 478. Those constant in adversities, and a rock, 417. Contention, and flame running through straw, 552.

D

Those arguing about the nature of God: and those who attempt to drink up the whole air, 505. Those desiring to know God without the aid of corporeal and sensible things; and those who attempt to outstrip their own shadow, or even to join eyes to objects falling into view without intervening light and air, or to roll fish outside the waves, 235. 497. 693. God, and the sun, 235. God pointing out the disease of the soul by His coming, and the sun revealing the weakness of the eyes, 389. God, the creator of this universe: and a cithara-player, or the maker of a cithara, 499. God cannot be conquered by our gifts: and no one can outstrip his own shadow, just as the size of a body cannot raise itself above its head, 272. 273. God the Father, the Trinity in essence, and who is the bifluous and bifid fountain: See below under Trinity. 492. Those arguing more fiercely for a word than is proper, and the insane, 557. From the weariness of one argument, nauseated at all others, and those who from the disgust of one food reject all foods, 488. Those devoted to tightening or solving arguments, and those who propose contests in theaters, 184. The composition of dissension, and the harmony of the members of the body, 51. The dissension of Christians, and a nocturnal battle, 317. Doctrine, and food, 468. Dry and petty doctrine, and spider webs, 34. Those adulterating doctrine, and those who mix wine with water, 492.

E

The Church, and the human body, 586. The Church of God, and the tabernacle of Moses, 368. The Church rightly composed, and a garden, heaven, and body, 250. Pastors of the Church, and members of the body, 12. Those seeking the episcopacy for the sake of profit, and those sailing for the sake of gain, 641. Bishops, and those walking on a swinging and high rope, 28. Bishops, and pastors, 16. A bishop or evangelical preacher: and the moderator of a many-headed beast, 34. Heathens, not having the strength of their constitution from divine inspiration, and roots which, because they are not fixed in a stable place, are carried by the waves, 140.

[F] Preservation of present happiness, and the healing of the bodies of the sick, 170. Deserters of the faith, and seed sown upon dry rock, 82. Those who mock our faith as uncertain, and those who suffer from a defect of the eyes or ears, 33. The Son of God, and the splendor of the sun, 382. The Son of God made man, and the sun covered by a cloud, 903. The Son of God taking our iniquities upon Himself, and a fire melting wax, or even a sunbeam consuming the vapor of the earth, 543. The Son of God, and the Holy Spirit, and light from the sun, 467. One fighting at the risk of all his fortunes, and a bad boxer or even a pilot of a ship, 152.

[G] Gregory filled with bitterness and sadness, and the affection of children for flashes of lightning, 236. Gregory and the flint from which fire hidden in iron is struck out, 365. Gregory returning into favor with friends, and plants pulled by force in opposite directions, and then slackened, 183. Gregory attacked by curses, and a high tree around which the breezes flow, 420. Gregory celebrating the praises of Basil: and competing athletes, 777. Gregory about to speak on disciplines and letters, and those who pluck what is useful or pleasing in the air and on earth: or also those who use fire, food, or iron, 778. Gregory, and the polypus, 785. Gregory receiving the Constantinopolitan Church, and those bringing help to a ship in danger, or to a city surrounded by a siege, or also casting water upon buildings burning with flames, 639. Gregory returning to his own episcopate: and a river which is borne along downhill very swiftly, but is carried only by force along upward slopes, 472. Gregory dissolving labors with recreations, and the loosening of the bow of horns, 477.

[H] Heresy, and a deadly cup, 898. Heresy crushed a little, still feebly throbbing, and the tail of a serpent cut in two, 620. Heretics shearing the glory of the Church, and those who took away the hair of Samson, or also storming some fortress, 402. Heretics looming over the errors of the Catholics, and flies over wounds, 491. Men under authority, and the members of the body, 113. The passions of man, and the parts of the year, 840. A man prudent and wise, and gold, 17. A man wise in speech, but skilled in spirit, and tombs, 301. A man walking upright, and one who navigates, 277. A man brave and generous, and a horse, 581.

[I] Wickedness, and a flame, 426. The impure disputing about God, and those who look at the rays of the sun with sick eyes, 489. The inconstant, and polypi, 641. Those practicing enmities, and the same earth which seems immovable to the healthy, but unstable to those suffering from dizziness, 417. Or even the same distance between columns, which seems greater to those standing closer, and less to those standing further away, ibid. An angry man, and Etna, 120.

[J] Julian, and Rapsaces, 138, and an ape, 139. Julian, and he who sows, or he who stirs up fire, 157. Julian, and the Etnean fire, 120. Julian, and a chameleon, 105, or even Proteus, ibid. and 118. Julian against the Christians, and a hunter, 106. Julian, and those who mix poison with food, 117. Julian preparing manifold persecutions for Christians, and a dragon, and even a thunderbolt, 128. Julian concealing his own impiety, and fire hidden in dark and thick matter, or springs flowing through certain caverns, 90. Ignorant youth, and rash temerity, 48.

[L] Old law, and a physician, or even a tamer of horses, 854. Old law, and a wall, 854.

[M] Maccabees suffering martyrdom, and the tossing of the waves, 296. The mother of the seven Maccabean brothers seeing her sons in torments, and a little bird watching its chicks being snatched away by a snake, 294. Martyrs, and knots, 366. The glory of the martyrs migrating from these mysteries, and the sun freed from the cloud by which it was previously obscured, and spring after winter, and also the sea with the winds settled, 440. A mind which cannot express in words what it feels, and the gait of men laboring with lethargy, 780. Grief, and tares, 236. Death, and a harbor, 332. The dead, and pilgrims who have returned to their homeland, 332. A multitude of people, and a musical instrument consisting of many strings, 31. A multitude restraining its own desires, and fire hidden in matter, or a repressed river, 122.

[N] The piety of Nonna, mother of Gregory, and the sun, 337.

[O] Those deserting their duty, and athletes not observing the laws of the wrestling-ground, also sick men cursing the physician, 322.

[P] Pastors teaching ignorantly, and cuttlefish, 757. The function of a pastor, and food, 250. A sinner, and an adder stopping its deaf ears, 22. Sinners afflicting themselves with the most grievous evils, and those who bite their own flesh, 22. Those philosophizing out of season, and athletes boasting that they are very excellent outside the arena, or even pilots valuing their own art highly in tranquility, 478. Philosophers appearing knowledgeable and elegant, and little women devoid of natural beauty, resorting to colors, 345. Worshippers of piety not cut off by the orthodox in small dogmas, and water which, grasped by the hand, flows through the fingers, 409. Precepts of the wise, and a goad, 891.

Ecclesiastical prefects, and subterranean water, 757. The condition of prefects and subjects, and the various motions and impulses of beasts, just as the discrimination of ages and qualities among men, 401. Prosperity, and winds, or even letters written in the sand, 270.

S Ways of salvation, and the institutions of human life, 601. Defect and excess of wisdom, and the addition or subtraction of rules, 584. Seeds of generation, and shipwrecks in the wind, 125. Prudent old age, and considered slowness, 48. Speech, and musical harmony, 135. Speech, and food, 317. Speech concerning the sweetest things, and eyes perceiving spectacles, 781. Those who are amused by the contentions of sophists, and those who rejoice in equestrian contests, 781. A headlong study, and seeds which fell upon stones, and a foundation cast in the sand, 48.

T Trinity, and a pearl shining from all sides, 657. Trinity, and sun, ray, and light, 576.

V Foolish words, to which nonsense is joined, and the various cares of the soul which a manifold species of dreams follows, 881. Vain words, and the great art of dreams, 881. Those walking the path of an impure way, and staining themselves lightly, and those who, bound in fetters, make some progress, 705. That which is expressed by violence and necessity, and a plant bent by force by the hands, 19. A small man undertaking some burden, and one who builds a tower, 59. A virgin wholly joined to God in love, and streams of water enclosed in leaden pipes, 653. ^B Those embracing virtue, and those who make their journey at the time of the clearest light, 876. The most excellent of virtues, and the most fragrant and beautiful flower of the meadow, 258. Life, and a prison, or even a stadium, 323. Life of men, and the crossing of torrents, 874. Active and contemplative life, and sea and land, 817. Human life, and the sea, 477. Vanity of human life, and the flight of a bird, a ship at sea, dust, vapor, morning dew, a flower, 211. Those entangling themselves viciously, and those who wander in dark mist, 43. Vice, and water, or even a straw, 425. Vice, and wormwood, 18.

PROVERBS WHICH SAINT GREGORY OF NAZIANZUS CITED WISELY AND APPELATIVELY

A Absalom's hands, 394. Walking in the footsteps of the abyss, 504. Committing the sound of a feeble thunder to gold, 736.

B Even some utility in bile, 426. Briareus' hands, 334.

C Crates gives the Theban Crates his freedom, 815.

F Iron, as long as it is hot, is hardened cold, 711. To learn the potter's art in a jar, 35. To be tortured by thirst in the midst of a fountain, 709. To rub the forehead, 22.

G A drop hollows out a stone by frequent falling, 337.

H One swallow does not make a spring, 687.

L To commit solid food to those still using milk, 736. To praise a lion by its claws, and a statue by its shadow, 223. To cleanse mud with mud, 466. To commit a pearl to the mud, 736.

M To arm the tongue with bound hands, 492.

N To rush into wickedness with a bare head, 22.

O Nothing better than an obol, 145.

P Footmen to the Lydian chariot, 787. Phoebus does not divine without bronze, 145.

S Saul also among the prophets?, 16, 235. To commit the sun to weak eyes, 736. A sow wallowing in the mire, 101.

U To travel beyond Gades is not granted to all, 789.

V Histiaeus wove this garment, but Aristagoras put it on; concerning the tyranny of the Samians, 157. Swarming with wounds, he attempts to heal others, 18.

NOTICE REGARDING THE FOLLOWING ORATION

^A I. Among the orations of Gregory, the one which is numbered in the forty-first position by the Parisian editors claims for itself the first place; although in almost all other manuscripts it is placed before the other orations. For there are more than forty royal manuscripts in which the Oration on Easter and the delay is the first in order. It also holds the first place in the English and imperial ones, as is known even from published catalogs. Indeed, the very words of the oration demonstrate sufficiently that it is the first of all. “Resurrection day, and the beginning of the right hand.” “[The] day of resurrection, he says, and a propitious beginning.” “The beginning, I say, of [my] discourses and of the initiation into the pastoral office.” “The beginning of my words, and the beginning of teaching and of presiding.” Thus, after the ancient scholiast, says Nicetas. “From here indeed,” he says according to Lambecius, “this most divine Father began his discourses.” That is: “For hence that most divine Father took the beginning of his discourses.”

II. Basilius the same asserts in a notable scholion, which is exhibited in a commentary: indeed, another unedited scholiast, who in Colbert manuscript 3063, regarding the second oration on Easter, comments on these words: “O Word of God,” etc., as follows: “You have therefore now this oration of ours, not indeed as the first-fruits, neither as the first, as that [which begins thus]: ‘Resurrection day.’” In short, both the ancients and the moderns have come to that opinion. Nor do I delay on the fact that Leunclavius in his dedicatory epistle says: “By reason of time, if we believe Elias of Crete and Nicetas Serron, the oration which is second in the Parisian Greek-Latin edition ought to be the first.” For we have just seen that the mind of Nicetas is far otherwise. But we shall refute the opinion of Elias elsewhere, which in the meantime is sufficiently exploded by the beginning of each oration, and by the end of this one: where the Theologian says: “Now you have the discourses, for which you were so greatly longing;” discourses hitherto denied, for which they were the more eager the longer they were deferred. This interpretation, indeed, is not ours, but that of Gregory himself, as the entire third, or alternatively second, oration proves, and as the admonition regarding it will demonstrate.

III. This, therefore, was the first of all the orations written and spoken in the year of Christ 362, on the day before the Kalends of April, on which day, according to Bucherius, the feast of Easter fell in this year. But on what occasion or for what reasons, the admonition regarding the Great Apologetic will explain more conveniently below. That oration is indeed brief, but certainly, taking the nature of things into account, most ample; even if at first glance it may seem casually flowing and disjointed. In it he unites the mysteries of the rising Christ with a defense of his own delay, and both of these with moral precepts; he so mingles individual points with one another, that it could almost be called entirely a panegyrical, entirely a moral, and entirely an apologetical oration. In it he accuses and defends himself, humbles and exalts himself, obeys and commands, courts benevolence and reproves. Finally, while he desires to be a good shepherd, he shows himself to be the very man whom he desired to be, both dying eagerly with Christ and at the same time rising again, a new man, whom as a shepherd the sheep ought to follow and hear. Moreover, how ingenious is the mention made of duties, how fitting for the feast, for moral precepts, for the praises of the Father, for commending himself, as magnificently as modestly and necessarily, to a vicar-shepherd under a new father! And this is the first of Gregory’s, and, if we believe Basil, an extemporaneous oration.

THE ORATIONS OF OUR HOLY FATHER GREGORY THE THEOLOGIAN, ARCHBISHOP OF CONSTANTINOPLE

ORATION I. On the Holy Pascha and on the Tardy Arrival.

I ^A. It is the day of Resurrection, and the beginning is propitious; let us be radiant in the festival, and let us embrace one another. Let us say, "Brothers," even to those who hate us; and not merely to those who have done or suffered anything for the sake of love ^B. Let us forgive all things for the sake of the Resurrection; let us grant pardon to one another, both I, who have been subjected to this noble tyranny—for this I now add—and you, who have tyrannized well, if you find any fault with me for my tardy arrival; for perhaps this is better and more precious to God than the haste of others. For it is good to withdraw oneself for a little while to God, as Moses did of old, and Jeremiah later, and then to run forward readily when He calls, as Aaron and Isaiah did, provided both are done with a pious spirit: the one through awareness of his own weakness ^C, the other through awareness of the power of Him who calls.

II. The mystery has anointed me; for the sake of the mystery I withdrew for a little while, as much as was necessary to examine myself; and with the mystery I now enter in, taking as a helper for my fear and weakness this admirable day, so that He who rose from the dead this day may also renew me by the

Spirit, and, having clothed me in the new man, may grant ^A to the new creation, to those who are born according to God, a good Creator and Teacher in Christ, who is willingly dying and rising again with them.

III. Yesterday the lamb was being slaughtered, and the doorposts were being anointed, and Egypt was mourning for her firstborn, and the destroyer was passing us by, and the seal was fearful and venerable, and we were protected by the precious blood. ^B Today we have fled Egypt entirely, and that bitter master Pharaoh, and the harsh taskmasters, and we have been freed from the clay and the brick-making; and there is no one to prevent us from celebrating to the Lord our God this passage-feast—and to celebrate it, not in the old leaven of malice and wickedness, but in the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth, bringing with us nothing of the Egyptian and godless leaven.

IV. Yesterday I was being crucified with Christ, today I am being glorified with Him; yesterday I was dying with Him, today I am being made alive with Him; yesterday I was being buried with Him, today I am rising with Him. But let us offer gifts ^C to Him who suffered and rose again for us. Perhaps you think I mean gold, or silver, or textiles, or clear and precious stones, matter that flows from the earth and remains below, of which the wicked and the slaves of the things below and of the prince of this world usually possess the greater share. Nay, rather, let us offer ourselves, the possession most precious to God and most peculiarly His own; let us return to the Image that which is according to the image; let us recognize our own worth; let us honor our Archetype; let us understand the power ^D of the mystery, and for what purpose Christ died.

V. Let us become as Christ, since Christ also became as we are. Let us become gods for His sake, since He also became man for our sake. He assumed the worse that He might give the better; He became poor, that we might become rich by His poverty; He took the form of a servant, that we might receive the freedom.

^A He descended, that we might be exalted; He was tempted, that we might conquer; He was dishonored, that He might glorify; He died, that He might save; He ascended, that He might draw to Himself those who were lying below in the fall of sin. Let one give all, let one offer all as fruits to Him who gave Himself as a ransom and exchange [(5)] for us; yet he will give nothing comparable to one who understands the mystery, and who has made everything for His sake, just as He was made everything for our sake.

^C VI. And to you, as you see, this good shepherd, who laid down his soul for the sheep [(16)], offers a shepherd; for this he hopes, and has in his prayers, and asks of you who are under his care, and he delivers himself up to you twofold in exchange for one, and makes the staff of his old age a staff of the spirit; and to the inanimate temple he joins the animate one; to this, I say, ^B most glorious and heavenly temple, he joins another, whatever and however small it may be, yet most dear to him, completed by many toils and labors: and would that I were able to add that it is worthy of those labors! And he proposes all his own to you. O the magnitude of soul, or, to speak more truly, the fatherly love! The gray hair, the youth, the temple, the high priest, the giver of his inheritance, the heir, the sermons for which you were burning with desire; and indeed sermons not flowing rashly into the air, and extending no further than the ears of the hearers, but which the Spirit writes, and engraves upon tablets of stone, or rather of flesh, not inscribed lightly and on the surface, and which might easily be erased, ^C but deeply imprinted, not with ink, but with grace [(10)].

VII. And all these things this venerable Abraham offers to you, that patriarch, that dear and august head, that dwelling-place of all virtues, the rule of virtue, the perfection of the priesthood: he who today offers a voluntary sacrifice to the Lord, that only-begotten one from the promise [(19)]. But do you offer this to God and to us in place of a gift, so that you may be rightly pastured, being sheltered in a place of pasture, and reared beside the water of refreshing [(20)], knowing the shepherd well, and being known by him, and following him as he calls in the manner of a shepherd and freely through the door; but not following a stranger who enters another way [(21)], in the manner of robbers and schemers, the fold

deceitfully ^A nor listening to a strange voice that steals away and scatters from the truth into mountains, and deserts, and gullies, and places which the Lord does not visit, and which leads astray from the sound faith—that which is in the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, the one Godhead and power, the voice which they have always heard ^B, and would that my sheep might hear it—but which with counterfeit and corrupted words carries off and tears away from the true and first Shepherd. From these, may it be the lot of us all, both pastors and flock, to feed afar from such sickly and deadly herbage, and may we both graze and provide pasture, and may we all be one in Christ Jesus now and in the rest of the life to come: to whom be glory and power unto the ages. Amen.

MONITUM IN ORATIONEM II

I. ^C “It seems,” says Basil, “that this oration was written after the previous one on Easter. For the former was delivered extemporaneously and briefly after the imposition of hands upon him for the priesthood, and after his flight. This one, however, was composed later, at leisure, more maturely and at greater length.” The best manuscript copies, such as the Royal 1809 and very many others, in which this oration occupies the place immediately after the first, agree with this.

II. Elias of Crete agrees in his argument for this oration, which Billius translates thus: “Afterwards (having written the first on Easter), he composed this great apologetic discourse at his leisure.” Elias confirms this again in the argument prefixed to the second invective against Julian, in these words: “For there too, he says, when the subject matter was most extensive, and could not be comprised in the oration entitled *On Easter and Delay*, he divided it into two orations; namely, into this one, which we have just mentioned, and into that apologetic discourse which is called ‘The Great One.’ And here again, when he had undertaken to mark the perversity of Julian with infamy, he divided the whole matter into two orations on account of the magnitude of his malignancy.” By this method, Elias asserts that Gregory followed the law of rhetoric handed down by Hermogenes, that a case should be divided on account of the magnitude of the accusation or defense. ^D Hence one may not incorrectly conclude that Gregory came from Pontus prepared for either oration, or rather, for the twin parts of his defense; but that one was divided from the other by design or necessity, as it is known to have been done in the orations *On the Lights* and *On Baptism*, and as Elias seems to affirm. We pursue this more fully for the reason that the most illustrious Tillemont separates these orations, or rather the two parts of one and the same oration, although they neither ought to be nor can be separated. Now, however, we must say on what occasion and for what causes this oration was delivered.

III. When Gregory had been created presbyter by a certain force and “tyranny,” as if struck by a gadfly and hit by an unexpected lightning bolt, he betook himself in flight to his friend Basil in Pontus. He describes this himself in an elegant poem. “For being ordained presbyter,” as it is read in the scholium of the most renowned Royal codex 1809, “he withdrew with a certain religious fear into Pontus, where not long before he had lived a solitary life. Then, returning from there, he published an apology;” he delivered this very oration, by which, when he had returned, he purged himself of his flight and of having refused the office of presbyter; or, to speak with the scholiast, “because he had not accepted the office of presbyter.” Therefore, Gregory withdrew into solitude, not to flee the dignity of the priesthood, which he had accepted though unwilling and reluctant; but also so that he might not be compelled toward the episcopacy; one of which reasons some scholiasts seem to indicate, while the other is a fiction of Billius. But having escaped by flight, he sought the solitude of Pontus, as if to avoid a burden [that would be fearful even to angelic shoulders—]

the administration of the Church and of souls, the office, I shall say, of priest and pastor; which, to speak with the learned man, he felt was being imposed upon him by his father in this ordination “as if by a supreme and general vicar.”

IV. Elias Cretensis saw this very well: “That divine man,” he says, “since he had not received the rank of presbyter with a willing mind... was compelled to undertake the care of that Church (Nazianzus), and to fulfill those parts which he (the father) could not discharge: he himself, therefore, led by a religious fear, departs from here and migrates into Pontus, where he had been before, etc.... Here, therefore, having spent some time... and having decided that it was a grave thing to fall into the danger of disobedience, he returns from Pontus to his homeland on the very day of Pascha.” It was for a religious fear, therefore, that the Theologian had sought solitude, and again fear called him back from Pontus to his homeland—fear, I say, that he might incur the crime of disobedience.

V. Since Gregory’s flight had offended many, who had already begun to be “something among the Christians,” he wrote this oration in his own defense. “He shows,” these are the words of the aforementioned scholiast, “that he had been so impatient and stubborn a rein, that he had even been an offense to some who had once been edified by him; and on their account there was need of an apology, in which he might declare the causes of his disobedience and timidity.” Therefore, thinking it safe “not even to labor under the suspicion of sin” of this kind, he held it necessary to “heal” those “wounded” either by his flight or by his return with this apology. For of those people, “some objected to or suspected” in him “levity and imprudence,” others “contempt of order;” some also, just as with Augustine a little later, “a desire for a higher rank.”

VI. For this reason he wrote this longer apologetic oration, in which, as Elias says, “he shows that neither his fear and withdrawal, nor, on the other hand, his promptness of mind and return, are to be reprehended;” or what he proposed in the earlier oration, “that both is good: both to withdraw oneself from God at times, and to meet Him again at times when He calls.” The first part pertains to those things in which he describes the duties, virtues, offices, difficulties, and dangers of priests or pastors, the threats of God against them, the oracles of the prophets and the apostles, and the examples he relates from his own love of solitude and from the storm by which the Church was then being tossed under Julian: not that he feared in any way that “wild beast,” the fires, the swords, the precipices, the abysses, and finally the war from outsiders. But he rightly feared the war of the heretics, the vices of Christians, the struggles of priests, and the dissensions of bishops. Against this war he felt himself unequal and willingly admitted it. These things, through fear, wore down his flesh, contracted his mind, placed a bridle upon his tongue, and deservedly persuaded him to “turn tail.”

The latter part, in which he briefly explains the causes of his return, pertains to the love of his parents, the fear and danger of disobedience, and the example of Jonah; vanquished by all of which, he finally professes that he is undertaking a burden—not indeed of the episcopacy, but of the priesthood or the pastor’s office.

VII. For indeed, “concerning the episcopacy,” as the learned Combefisius correctly observes, “there is no discourse here by design, to which Gregory had not yet been summoned.” It may be permitted to add that he was not even thinking of being summoned at that time. Although Billius, in the argument of this oration as well as in the summaries and notes passim, affirms that here “are explained the reasons why Gregory fled into Pontus after the episcopacy was rejected; and that he fled because he was being sought for the episcopacy beyond his expectation.” Induced into the same opinion, perhaps by the interpreter, appears Augustine, who, after he has again described the words of Gregory from the Apologetic, subjoins: “Blessed Gregory was saying this, not among the beginnings of his amendment, but already a bishop.” Nay, even Petavius himself, against Salmasius, bringing forward testimonies from the Apologetic, attempts to show that “the episcopacy” was called by Gregory in the same place “a principate, a magistracy, a prefecture, a rule,” etc., and therefore that it was not “a care alone, a simple office.” The learned man errs while he thinks Gregory is discoursing about the episcopacy; but nonetheless his argument against Salmasius stands firm, or rather it becomes even firmer. For if the priesthood was termed by Gregory generally “a principate, a magistracy, a prefecture,” etc., how much more can and should this be said of the episcopacy! Many others have fallen into the same trap, believing with Billius that in Gregory’s Apologetic there is a discourse on the episcopacy by design; their error we refute thus briefly: Gregory in the beginning and at the end of the oration professes that he is undertaking what he had fled: therefore it is necessary that he undertook the episcopacy then, if, “the episcopacy being rejected,” as Billius wishes, he had fled into Pontus. Thence it also follows, which is no less absurd, that Gregory, before he was created bishop of the Sasimians, had been consecrated bishop of Nazianzus; or finally, it must be granted that this was not the oration spoken of, nor were those things fulfilled which...

are narrated in it, until, having repudiated the bishopric of the Sasimians, he undertook the duties of the Nazianzen bishop to be performed in his father's stead. That these things are absurd and alien to historical truth, no one fails to understand.

VIII. Gabriel attempts another way to establish that it is an oration concerning the episcopate: "Since," he says, "the common work of a priest and a presbyter is the priestly office, and is the foundation of episcopal consecration... it was fittingly done, that it should be declared at the same time in the same oration, what and how great is the profession of the priesthood, and what sort of person a bishop ought to be." Gabriel insinuates besides, "that the ancients were accustomed to call the same persons both bishops and presbyters." But even if we were to grant to the learned man what erudite writers acknowledge from all communion, that "from the beginning, the appellation of bishop and presbyter was common and promiscuous, synonymous, ^A indistinguishable, in the beginning and in the first times of the Church, or in the days of the apostles," or even in the first and second centuries, yet after the first century—as Salmasius and Blondel themselves admit—they began to be distinguished, and as the second century declined and drew to a close, and even as Dallaeus himself does not deny, or once the second had ended and the third begun, and especially from the condemnation of Aerius in the middle of the fourth century, regarding which heresy Epiphanius and Augustine write, those names were so distinguished that it was not permitted for anyone to use them interchangeably thereafter. Hence it ought to be clear that the title of the oration does not require Gabriel's explanation, and that it is burdened rather than aided by it.

IX. But once that part of the inscription is rejected: *Καὶ ὁποῖον εἶναι δεῖ τὸν ἐπίσκοπον*, "and what sort of person a bishop ought to be," which is surely not Gregory's, it is an open and certain matter, and it is ^B permissible to assert with the learned Combefis, "that there is no discourse here concerning the episcopate by institution." What then? Having been created a presbyter, Gregory had fled the office of pastor; now he takes it up. By his ordination, he was a pastor as the other priests were; who, to use the words of Chrysostom, "have received the power of teaching and of presiding over the Church." Having therefore received the office which he had fled, Gregory pursues the duties of all pastors in this oration. This noble work therefore pertains to all priests; and although it is not a discourse on the episcopate *ex institutu*, yet whatever the orator proclaims as eloquently as truly concerning the duties of pastors or priests, bishops, who occupy the summit of the priesthood, can and indeed ought to consider as pertaining to themselves before all others. ^C Accordingly, codices of the best note meritously inscribe this oration of Gregory as the book *De sacerdotio* (περὶ ἱερωσύνης), generally, in which the holier laws and rules of ecclesiastical vocation and priesthood, and indeed "a few" dogmatic matters, are contained, as the most accurate of all, the Colbertine manuscript 4248, has noted.

X. From this most excellent work, Chrysostom in the same way drew his six books *De sacerdotio*, and Gregory the Great his four books of *Regula pastoralis*, having drawn from it and expressed it as if from an archetype, so that they seem to have performed almost nothing else than to have dilated and amplified what had been said by the Theologian more sharply, briefly, and powerfully. And certainly, as a man famous for his name and the monuments of his genius, and especially for his edition of Gregory, has observed before us, that triad of Fathers worked out their works on the priesthood—each in its own kind excellent—not only concerning the same argument, but also on a similar occasion. When friends demand it, they all respond; and having rendered an account of why they fled the priesthood, they compose an apology for their flight. ^D They all demonstrate the madness of those who covet the governance of the Church, and the difficulty and dangers of the office. They set forth with what science, what wisdom, what prudence, what perfection, what holiness, and what art the work must be done so that souls may be cured, governed, and lifted up even to heaven. Moreover, Gregory the Great declares that he has and follows our Gregory, immediately from the beginning of the third book, with these words: "For, as Gregory of Nazianzus of reverend memory taught long before us, not one and the same exhortation is suitable for all," etc. The same holy pontiff, book I, chapter 1, borrowed that most celebrated sentiment, "The art of arts and the science of sciences is to govern man," from this work of the Theologian, number 16. Nor should anyone think that the praise of Gregory the Great is thereby lessened; for this apologetic oration is such an excellent work that it is worthy to be that from which Gregory the Great seems to have excerpted many things. Augustine himself drew weapons from the same book against the Pelagians. Finally, Facundus Hermianensis, Eulogius of Alexandria, and many other good Fathers and doctors of the Church have drawn many good things from the same fountain.

ORATIO II

^A 11 *Apologetic for the same, in which he sets forth the reasons for which, after the dignity of the priesthood was imposed upon him, he fled into Pontus, and returned again to Nazianzus, and what the profession of a priest is.*

I. I have been overcome, and I confess my defeat; I have been subject to the Lord, and I have entreated Him. For let the most blessed David lead the beginning of my discourse; or rather, let Him who spoke in David, and who even now speaks through him, do so. For this is also an excellent order, that he who begins either a discourse or any action, should take his beginning from God, and in God find his rest. ^B But the cause either of my former withdrawal and faintheartedness, for which I prolonged my flight and stayed away from you for a time—not a short one, perhaps, to those who felt my absence—or of my present gentleness and change, for which I have again delivered myself to you, let others conjecture and bring forward whatever they please, according to their own hatred or love for us; the former, to be sure, by no means acquitting me of blame, and the latter, on the contrary, even extolling me with praises. For nothing is so sweet and pleasant to men as to talk about the affairs of others; and especially so, if they are drawn by some benevolence or hatred, by which truth is usually stolen away. But I, fearing nothing, will set the matter forth as it is in the midst, and I will show myself a just judge to both parties, both to those who accuse me and to those who ^C willingly and with a ready mind undertake the defense of my cause, by means of such a method that I may partly accuse myself, and partly clear and defend myself.

Not bearing the city's tumult, O father, You sail to Pontus; but you return again, Bringing us thence wealth not to be despised.

Let us begin from Zeus, and with Zeus make an end, O Muses. I assume that it is fitting for everyone who is beginning any weighty discourse or action to start first from the gods. ^D Since this was fully persuaded among them regarding the imaginary gods, what then must be done by us, to whom the knowledge of the true God has dawned, by that very fact casting upon our mind most clear light in such great darkness?

^B And that our discourse may proceed in a straight course, I shall also discuss the timidity that was mentioned first; for I cannot bear that some of those who diligently examine our affairs, whether they are going well or otherwise, should be offended at me, since by the benign will of God it has fallen to our lot to be among Christians, and I shall heal those who have already received a wound, if there be any, by a defense of my conduct. For it is noble neither to sin nor even to be suspected of it—so long as it is possible and reason allows—by placing an obstacle or stumbling-block before the many; for we know what an unavoidable and most grievous punishment has been ordained by Him who cannot lie for those who stumble even one of the little ones (Matth. xviii, 6).

^C For I have suffered this, O men, not as one untaught and unwise, but rather—that I may boast even a little—nor as one who is contemptuous of divine laws and ordinances. For just as in the body one part is governing and, as it were, presiding, and another is governed and led, so God has ordained in the churches, by the law of equality which considers the merit of each, or rather by the providence by which He has bound all things together (26*), that some should be shepherded and ruled, to whom this is more profitable, being guided toward what is necessary both by word and by deed; and that others should be shepherds and teachers, for the perfecting of the Church, being those who are above the many in virtue and in intimacy with God, having the relation of soul to body, or of mind to soul (27*). ^D Thus both, being composed and blended together, the lacking and the abounding, as it were in limbs, and being fitted together and bound by the harmony of the Spirit, may be proved a perfect body, and truly worthy of Christ Himself, who is our Head (28*).

IV. Therefore, I consider neither anarchy nor disorder more beneficial to others than order and rule, nor to men themselves; rather to them least of all (29*), inasmuch as

^A their danger is the greater, since for them it is a great and noble thing, if they cannot save the primary point of reason—that of sinning not at all—at least to achieve the secondary point, that of being brought back when they have sinned. Since this appeared good and just, it seems to me equally evil and similarly disorderly for all to wish to rule, and for no one to accept it; for if all were to flee from this, whether one should call it a ministry or a leadership, the body would be lame in its greatest part, and that beautiful complement of the Church would no longer remain beautiful (73). For where and by whom would the mystical and heavenward-bearing rites, which are the greatest and most precious of our possessions, be offered to God for us, if there were no king, no ruler, no priesthood, no sacrifice, and none of those things which, as the greatest remedies for great transgressions, the disobedient of old were condemned to be deprived of as a punishment? ^B

V. Nor is it strange or out of place for many of those who are devoted to the study of divine things to be raised from the rank and order of the governed to authority; nor, indeed, is it remote from the established laws of philosophy or joined with shame and disgrace, just as it is not for a good sailor to become a lookout, or for a lookout, who has observed the winds rightly and with praise, to take over the steering of the helm; or, if you will, for a brave and hardy soldier to command a cohort, and for one who has rightly commanded a cohort to lead an army and be entrusted with the leadership of every aspect of war. Nor further—which perhaps some of those entirely wicked and absurd persons who judge the affairs of others by their own passions might imagine—did I shrink from the rank out of a desire for a greater one (78); not thus am I unversed either in the greatness of the divine or in human lowliness. ^C The sense of Gregory is this: If ministers are lacking, the holy and august mysteries, than which there is nothing more excellent in the Christian religion, will perish. And thus it will happen that, being without a king, without a priesthood, we shall be involved in the same evils as those with which the contumacious Jews of old were punished for their immense crimes, according to the prophecy of Osee III, 4: "Without a king, without a prince, without a sacrifice." ^D

^A so as not to consider it a great thing for any created nature to approach, in whatever way, God, who alone is most manifest, most brilliant, and surpasses in purity every nature, both that which consists of matter and that which is immaterial.

VI. What, then, is this that has happened to me? And what is the reason for my disobedience? For I did not seem to the majority to remain then in myself, nor to be as I was known, but to have become one person after another, and to have opposed and been self-willed more than was right. Now, you may hear the causes of this, which you have long been desiring. I was struck, primarily, by the unexpectedness of it, just as those who are stunned by sudden noises, so that I could not keep my composure ^B; and for this reason I cast off the modesty to which I had been accustomed for all my life. Then, a certain love for the good of quiet and seclusion entered into me, a love of which I had been a devotee from the beginning, as I do not know if anyone else among those who have devoted themselves to letters has been, and I had pledged it to God in the greatest and most grievous dangers; and having touched upon it, as much as to say being at the threshold, and having my desire for it more inflamed by the experience, I could not bear being tyrannized and shoved into the midst of the tumults, and as it were, forcibly torn away from this life as from some sacred asylum.

VII. For nothing seemed to me so desirable as to close my senses ^C, and having become outside of flesh and the world, to be turned in upon oneself, ^D touching nothing of human things, except by absolute necessity, conversing with oneself and with God, living above the things that are seen, and holding the divine images always pure within oneself, unmixed with the things below and the wandering forms, truly an unstained mirror of God and of divine things, and…

becoming day by day more luminous, receiving light through light, clearer through a darker one; already anticipating in hope the good things of the age to come, and [sharing] in the life of the angels, while yet upon earth already leaving behind the earth, ^A and being set on high by the Spirit. If any of you is held by this love, he knows what I say, and will forgive me for the passion I then felt; for perhaps I could not even persuade the many by speaking, to whom the matter seems even a subject for laughter, being poorly disposed either through their own folly or through those unworthy of the calling; for they have attached a bad name to a good thing, [calling] philosophy ^B vainglory, having taken as their ally envy, and the malice of the many which is more ready for the worse; so that one of two things must necessarily be committed by them: either the evil is praised, or the good is disbelieved.

VIII. In addition to these things, a matter has befallen me—for I will disclose to you the whole secret—whether it is boorish or free, I do not know, but it happened. I was ashamed for the sake of others, who, being no better than the many—and would that they were not even much worse!—with unwashed hands, as the saying goes, and profane souls, ^C thrust themselves into the most holy mysteries; and before they are worthy to approach the sacred things, they claim the sanctuary for themselves, and they are pressed and crowd around the holy table, as if they thought this order was not an example of virtue, but a means of livelihood, and not a ministry subject to account, but a rule immune to all censure. And they are, in number, almost more than those over whom they rule; wretches because of piety, and miserable because of the splendor; so that to me it seems, as time and evil progress, that they do not even have [the power to know] ^D

those over whom they rule, since all teach instead of being taught by God, as the promise says, and all prophesy, so that even Saul is among the prophets, according to the ancient history and proverb. For nothing is, or ever was, so common or prevalent at any time, with different ones flourishing and ceasing at different times, as these disgraces and sins are now among Christians. And even if it is better to restrain this tide than to be overcome by it, yet to hate and be ashamed of it is no small part of piety.

^B IX. The final and greater cause than those previously mentioned—for I have now arrived at the very colophon of my discourse, and I will not lie; for it is not right for those who speak of such great mysteries to do so—is that I did not think, nor do I now think, that presiding over a flock or a herd is the same as governing the souls of men. For there, it is sufficient to render the sheep and oxen as fat and sturdy as possible; and the shepherd and the herdsman, keeping this in view, will explore well-watered and feeding grounds, will drive ^C them into and out of the pastures, will let them rest, and stir them up, and call them back, sometimes with the staff, but mostly with the pipe. And the shepherd or herdsman has no other duty than to struggle briefly with wolves, and perhaps to visit the sick animal; but for the most part, his care will be for the oak, the shade, the reeds, and to lie down in a fair pasture, and beside cool ^D water.

And they would compose a couch upon the grass under the breezes, and perhaps sing some amorous ditty with their ivy-wood cup ^A, and talk to their cows or their flock, and feast upon these themselves, or sell whatever was fattest. But not one of them has ever cared for the virtue of their herds or flocks. For what is the virtue of these creatures? Or who among them has ever considered what is good for them, rather than his own pleasure?

X. But while it is difficult for a man to know how to be ruled, it seems to me much more difficult to know how to rule men, and especially in this empire of ours, which is ordered by the divine law and leads to God; for the greater its height and dignity, the greater the danger for a man of understanding. For the first duty of such a man must be, like silver or gold, to be tested on every side, and in all times and circumstances; so that he may nowhere ring false or appear alloyed with base metal, and may harbor no material within himself that is of inferior quality and worthy of a more intense fire; or the evil will be all the greater in proportion to the number of those he rules, since the wickedness that creeps into many is greater than that which is fixed in ^B one.

XI. For neither does a garment so easily take a dyed tint, nor does any object so easily contract a foul or sweet odor from what is near it, nor does any deadly vapor so easily spread into the air and, through the air, seize upon living creatures—which is what is known as a pestilence—as the subjects are wont to be quickly filled with the wickedness of their leader, and much more easily so than with his virtue. For this is the point wherein wickedness most greatly excels goodness, and which I, pondering with myself, bear most indignantly and bitterly: that because wickedness is a thing prone and ready for imitation, and there is nothing so easy as to become evil, even if no one offers himself as a leader to us in vice, yet the acquisition of virtue is rare and arduous, however many things there may be that pull and invite us toward it. And this is also what seems to me, and what the most blessed ^C

Haggai observed when he made use of that marvelous and most true image: "Ask the priests," he says, "concerning the law: If a man carries holy meat in his garment and touches some food or drink, or any vessel at all, will it immediately sanctify what has been brought into contact with it?" And when they answered in the negative: "Ask again," he says, "if any of these things, having been brought into contact with something polluted, will it not be contaminated?"—as they undoubtedly were to affirm that it partakes of the uncleanness and, by reason of such contact, loses its purity.

XII. By these words, in my judgment, he signifies that the nature of virtue is such that men cannot attain it with ease, just as humid matter is not wont to catch fire easily; whereas for the contracting of vice, men are for the most part ready and prone, being, as I think, like some stubble that is easily ignited and consumed by a spark and the wind on account of its dryness. For a person would sooner receive a small amount of vice in abundance than a profound virtue by little and little. For even a small amount of wormwood most swiftly imparts its bitterness to honey, whereas honey does not impart its sweetness to wormwood, even in double the portion; and a small stone, once removed, might draw a whole river headlong down, whereas even the firmest rampart could scarcely be able to hold back or check the impetus.

XIII. First then ^C among these things we have mentioned, it is worth cautioning ourselves, lest we appear as evil painters of marvelous virtue, or rather—that I may speak more correctly—not perhaps of bad painters, but certainly of many, an evil archetype. For the painter fashions an image after a model, that is to say, an archetype; but you are not images, but the very models themselves, that is to say, the archetypes of evil.

^A Or let us not stray far from the proverb, attempting to heal others while we ourselves are teeming with sores.

XIV. Next, even if someone should keep himself pure from every stain of sin, or as much as possible, I do not know if even this is sufficient for one who prepares to instruct others in virtue. For it is not required only of him who has undertaken this care that he not be evil—for most people, even among the common crowd, consider it most shameful to be evil—but also that he excel in virtue, according to that precept of Scripture which commands us to turn aside from evil and do good. Not only should he erase the vicious marks of the soul, but also inscribe better ones, so that he may excel more in virtue than he surpasses in honor and dignity; nor should he set for himself any limit for living honestly and ascending higher; nor should he count that which he has seized as profit, rather than that which he has escaped as a loss; but he should consider what is before his feet to be a step to what follows next. He should not judge it to be a great and illustrious thing to surpass the common crowd in virtue, but should consider it a loss if he falls short of the dignity of the office he has undertaken. Let him so conduct himself that he weighs whatever he does out of virtue according to the norm of the divine law, and not by others—whether they be evil, or have advanced somewhat in virtue—nor should he weigh on a small scale the virtue which is owed to God, the best and greatest, from whom are all things and for whom are all things.

XV. ^C Nor let him think that the same things fit everyone, just as stature, features of the face, the natures of animals, the qualities of the earth, or the beauty and magnitude of all the stars are not the same for all. Rather, he should consider it the vice of a private person to commit shameful acts worthy of punishment, for whom the law is a hard and severe master; but for a ruler or a prelate, the vice is not to be as good as possible, and not to make constant new additions of virtue, if indeed he intends to draw the multitude toward mediocrity by the excellence of his own virtue, and not to rule by force, but to attract by persuasion. For what is expressed by force and necessity is typical ^D of tyranny, and is neither praiseworthy nor lasting; for that which is forced, like a plant

^A bent by force of hand, returns to itself again as soon as it is released; but that which arises from free choice is the most equitable and stable, as it is bound together by the ties of good will. Wherefore our law and Lawgiver prescribes that the flock should be led willingly, and not by constraint.

XVI. But let there be someone who is not only pure from the contagion of vices, but has attained to the absolute height of virtue; I do not see what knowledge he could have acquired, or upon what power he could rely, that would make him confident enough to undertake this charge. For this seems to me to be truly the art of arts and the science of sciences, to guide man, that most versatile ^B and complex of animals. Anyone might know this by comparing the healing of souls with the treatment of bodies; and by considering how laborious that former work is, but how much more laborious this of ours is, and how much more excellent it is, by the nature of its material, the power of its knowledge, and the goal of its action. For the one is concerned with bodies and with substance that is perishable and flowing downward, which is destined in any case to be dissolved and to submit to its own nature, even if it should now overcome the condition within it ^C by the aid of art; for either disease or time will dissolve it, as it yields to nature and does not transcend its proper limits.

XVII. But the concern and work of this office is oriented toward the soul, which is from God and is divine, and participates in the nobility of the realm above, and is hastening toward it, even though it has been bound to that which is worse; perhaps for other causes, which God alone, who bound it, knows, and whoever has been instructed by God in such mysteries; but as far as I and my peers can understand, it is for two reasons: one, that through the struggle and contest against that which is below, it might inherit the glory above, having been tested here like gold in a fire, and that the things hoped for might be a reward for virtue and not merely a place belonging to God; and this was ^D the mystery of salvation, that it belongs to those who are willing, not those who are tyrannized.

^A And it is also ours, not merely sown in us by nature, but cultivated by the power of choice, and directed by the movements of free will in both directions. Another [end] is that it might draw the worse part toward itself and lift it upward, having little by little loosened its density, in order that what God is to the soul, the soul might be to the body: having trained the servant-matter 59 through itself, and having reconciled to God its fellow-servant.

XVIII. ^B The physician will observe places, times, ages, seasons, and such things; he will administer medicines and prescribe a diet, and will watch for harmful things, so that the desires of the sick may not stand against his art. Sometimes, he will even use fire, the knife, and more severe forms of treatment—things which, though they may seem very laborious and distressing, are yet nothing compared to how difficult and arduous it is to observe and heal characters, passions, lives, moral choices, and whatever else of this kind is in us. It is to drive out from our union everything that is wild and savage 62, and to introduce and establish everything that is gentle and dear to God, and to award justice to both soul and body; for we should not suffer that which is more excellent to be tyrannized by the imperio of the worse—which is the greatest of all injustices—but rather must we make that which is by nature inferior subject to that which holds the command and leadership. This, indeed, is the law of God, and it is most gloriously established in all things created by Him, as much in those that are perceived by sight as in those that escape the sense of the eyes.

XIX. ^C Furthermore, I consider this: that each of those things which I have just enumerated, being observed by the physician as nature has them, remain as they are and do not struggle against him with craft, nor do they use counter-wisdom against the means applied by the art 68. On the contrary, medicine more readily gathers the material 69—unless perhaps some error or rashness on the part of the patient should happen to intervene, which is not difficult to guard against or restrain. But for us, our sagacity, our self-love 70, and our tendency not to know, or even to endure, being easily conquered 71, is the greatest impediment to virtue and is, as it were, a sort of...

army drawn up against those who bring us aid; and how much zeal we ought to have shown in exposing our disease to the physicians, just so much do we exert to escape treatment, being brave to our own destruction and skilled in working against our own health.

XX. ^B For we either steal our sin in a servile manner, concealing it in the depths of our soul like some malignant and festering sore, as if we could escape the great eye of God and His retributive justice if we could only elude men; or we invent excuses for our sins, finding arguments to advocate for our passions; or, having stopped our ears like the deaf adder that closes its ears against the voice of charmers, we stubbornly strive not to hear and not to be treated with the medicines of wisdom by which the disease of the soul is cured. Or, finally, those of us who are bolder and more brazen ^C openly throw off all shame, both toward our sin and toward those who treat it, and, with bare head, as the saying goes, we rush into every kind of lawlessness. O the madness—or if there be a name more appropriate for such a state! Those whom we ought to love as our benefactors, we avenge ourselves upon as enemies, hating those who rebuke us at the gates and abominating the holy word; and we imagine that we shall better fight against those who are well-disposed toward us if we do as much harm to ourselves as possible, just as those who tear their own flesh think they are consuming the flesh of others.

XXI. ^D These are the reasons why I maintain that the medicine we practice is far more difficult than the physical healing art, and for that reason also more precious; for that art looks only at a few of the things that are within, and for the most part occupies itself with what is visible. But for us, all our care and zeal are turned toward the hidden man of the heart, and the battle is against the enemy within who fights and wrestles against us, and who uses our own weapons against us—the most terrible thing of all—and delivers us to the death of sin. Therefore, against these things we require much and complete faith, and even greater assistance from God, and no little resourcefulness of our own (as I am convinced myself...

that it is necessary for us to be ^A treated and cleansed both by word and by deed, and that the most precious thing we possess, our souls, should be held in the highest esteem.)

XXII. Now as to the ends of both kinds of remedy—for this remains for us to examine—the one ^B looks to nothing other than health, or a good condition of the flesh, whether to preserve it if it is present, or to recall it if it has departed; regarding which it is not yet certain whether it will at all profit those who have attained it. For very often the opposites have brought more benefit to their possessors, just as poverty and wealth, fame and obscurity, lowliness and splendor, and whatever things lie in the middle by nature and lean no more to one side than the other, receive the name of virtue or vice according to the use and purpose of those who possess them. The other, however, has for its scope to give the soul wings, ^C to snatch it from the world, and to give it to God, and to preserve the image that is according to Him if it remains, to guide it if it is in danger, or to restore it if it has slipped away; and to cause Christ to dwell in the heart through the Spirit, and, to sum it up, to make it god and the recipient of the upper bliss of the order above.

XXIII. To this does the law, our tutor, direct us; ^D to this the prophets who stand between Christ and the Law; to this Christ himself, the completer and end of the spiritual law. To this the emptied deity; to this the assumed flesh; to this that new mixture, God, I say, and man, one from both, and both through one. For this reason God was joined to flesh through the mediation of the soul, and things that were mutually separated were bound together by the familiarity of the mediator with both.

And all things for all came into one, and for the sake of the one forefather; the soul for the sake of the one who disobeyed, the flesh for the sake of the one who served and was condemned with it—the one for the sake of the soul, the other for the sake of the flesh; and Christ for the sake of Adam, that is, for the sake of him who was made subject to sin, even though He was greater and higher than sin.

24 XXIV. For this reason the new was brought in against the old, and by suffering, He who had suffered was recalled, and for each of our things, each of those things which are above us was given in exchange. And the economy regarding him who fell through disobedience out of philanthropy has become a new mystery. For this reason there is a birth and a Virgin; for this reason a manger and Bethlehem. The birth is for the sake of the formation, the Virgin for the sake of the woman, Bethlehem for the sake of Eden, the manger for the sake of paradise; small and visible things for the sake of the great and hidden things. For this reason angels glorifying the heavenly, and then the earthly; and shepherds seeing glory at the Lamb and Shepherd; and a star leading, and Magi falling down and offering gifts, so that idolatry might be destroyed. For this reason Jesus is baptized, and witnessed from above, and fasts, and is tempted, and overcomes him who had overcome. For this reason demons are driven out, and diseases are healed, and the great proclamation is entrusted to small men and brought to its accomplishment.

25 XXV. For this reason the nations raged, and the peoples meditated vain things; for this reason there is wood against wood, and hands against hand—the hands that were bravely stretched out against that which was unrestrainedly stretched out; the hands that were bound with nails against that which was loose and slack; those hands which gather the ends of the earth against that which cast out Adam. For this reason there is height against the fall; and gall against the taste, and a crown of thorns against the wicked rule, and death against death, and darkness for the sake of the light,

and ^A burial against the return to the earth, and resurrection for the sake of resurrection. All these were a kind of divine discipline for us, and, as it were, a medicine for our infirmity, leading back the old Adam to where he had fallen, and bringing him to that tree of life from which the tree of knowledge, plucked untimely and inopportunely, had alienated us.

XXVI. And we are the ministers and assistants of this medicine, as many of us as are set over others; whose task it is, indeed, to recognize and heal our own passions and infirmities—though this might not yet be considered a great thing, yet the wickedness of many men of this order has made us speak in this way—but it is a much greater and more glorious task to be able to heal the diseases of others and to cleanse them skillfully, in such a way that it is profitable to both: to those who stand in need of ^B healing, and to those who are entrusted with the science of medicine.

XXVII. So then, will the physicians of bodies undergo labors, and vigils, and cares, which no one is ignorant of, and, as one of the sages among them once said, will they reap their own sorrows from the calamities of others? And will they offer to the sick some things which they have investigated and searched out by their own labor, and others which they have gleaned and collected from others? And is there nothing so small among them, whether conceived or omitted—even if it be the least thing—that is not judged to have great weight either for safety or for danger? And for what purpose, pray, is all this? That a man may live more days upon the earth, and ^C that man perhaps not even a virtuous one, but the most wicked and criminal, for whom—being evil—it would perhaps have been more useful to have departed from the living long ago, so that he might be freed from vice, the greatest disease of all. And even if we suppose that he is virtuous and honorable, how long, pray, is he to live? Forever? Or what is the gain from the life here, for one who, ^D while he desires to be released from it, is supposedly text continues next page: the first and most secure...

and the mark of a man who is truly healthy and possesses understanding?

XXVIII. But for us, who are in danger regarding the salvation of the soul—which is blessed and immortal, and will be subjected to immortal punishments or praises on account of vice or virtue—how great must we suppose the contest to be, and with how much skill must we think it necessary to treat others, or to be treated ourselves, and to transform our life, and to surrender the clay to the Spirit? For the same principles and the same impulses do not apply to male and female, to old age and youth, to wealth and poverty, to the cheerful and the despondent, to the sick and the healthy, to rulers and subjects, to the learned and the ignorant, to the cowardly and the bold, to the irascible and the gentle, to those who are succeeding and those who are failing.

XXIX. And if you examine the matter even more closely, what a distance will you find between the married and the unmarried? And among these again, what a difference will there be between the hermits and the cenobites, who live together in community? What a difference between those who have advanced far in contemplation and those who merely keep to the straight path of life? What a difference, again, between those in the city and those in the country, between the simpler and the more cunning, between those involved in public affairs and those who love quiet, between those whose fortunes have changed for the worse and those who are carried along by a prosperous course and have never been buffeted by harsher fortune? For these individuals differ among themselves in their desires and passions ^B even more than in their bodily forms and features; or, if you prefer, in the mixtures and tempering of the elements of which we are composed, and therefore they cannot be easily ruled and governed.

XXX. But rather, just as the same medicine and food are not offered to all bodies—but different ones to different people, depending on whether they are healthy or sick—so too are souls treated by different reason and guidance. And the witnesses to this treatment are the very passions themselves.

are disciplined. Moreover, witnesses to this kind of treatment are those who are vexed by such diseases. Some are led by encouragement; others are composed by example. Some have need of spurs, others of a bridle. For those who are sluggish and are moved with difficulty toward the good, these must be stirred up by the goads of words, whereas those who are more fervent than is moderate in their spirit, and difficult to restrain in their impulses, like noble colts running far from the starting-post, ^A these, the word might make better by checking and restraining them.

XXXI. For some, praise has been useful; for others, censure; both, that is, when applied at the appropriate time. Or, conversely, both have caused harm when applied at an inappropriate time and without reason. Exhortation directs some to their duty, objurgation others; and these again vary, depending on whether they are reproved openly, or admonished in private. For there are those who despise private admonitions, but are recalled to their duty by public rebuke; while there are others, again, who, if reproved too freely, cast off all shame, but who are rendered better by hidden rebukes and, perceiving that those who reprove them feel for their situation, ^B they return the favor of this service by obeying their admonitions.

XXXII. Some must be observed even down to the smallest and most trivial matters—especially those who, because they think their sins are hidden and unknown (since that is exactly how they contrive them), are puffed up in their minds as if they were wiser. But in the case of others, it would be better to overlook certain things, so that we may see without seeing, and hear without hearing, as the saying goes, lest we irritate them toward desperation ^C with too frequent rebukes, overwhelming them like waves, and at last, with their sense of shame dissolved—which is the medicine of persuasion—render them more bold for every kind of wickedness. What is more, with some one must act in such a way that we are not angry while being angry, that we do not despise while showing contempt, and that we do not despair while we are despairing, insofar as their nature requires this. Others are to be healed with mildness ^D and humility, and by sharing the enthusiasm for better hopes.

To win over some, to be won over by others, will often be more useful; and to praise or to deprecate the wealth and power of some, or the poverty and calamity of others.

^A XXXIII. For just as with virtue and vice it is not the case—one being the best and most useful always and for all, the other the worst and most harmful—that the same is true of our medicine, in such a way that one and the same remedy is always shown to be either most healthy or most dangerous for the same people; for example, severity or gentleness, or any of the others I have enumerated. Rather, for some, one thing is good and useful, while for others the opposite is true, depending, I think, on how the occasions and the circumstances coincide, and what kind of treatment the patients themselves can receive. To distinguish all these things by theory, and to perceive them with the utmost accuracy, so as to include the treatment under a single head, is impossible, no matter how much care and wisdom someone may possess; but in the course of the actual experience and the facts themselves, it becomes clear to the healing reason and to the man who is a healer. ^B

XXXIV. In general, however, that fact is known to us: that just as for those walking upon a rope ^C that is high, airy, and suspended, it is not safe to incline either to this side or that, nor does a small inclination bring a small degree of danger, but their salvation resides entirely in equilibrium—so too in these matters, toward whichever side one leans, whether due to wickedness or to ignorance, there is no small risk both to oneself and to those being led, of falling into sin. But one must truly travel by the royal road, and be wary of swerving either to the right or to the left, as the Proverbs say. Such is the nature of our passions, and such is the magnitude of the task for the good shepherd who is to know the souls of his flock knowingly, and is to lead them according to the theory of pastoral care—that which is true, just, and worthy of our true Shepherd. ^D

XXXV. Now, as for the distribution of the Word itself, in order that...

I may state at last that which is the first of our concerns, namely the distribution of the divine and exalted Word—a matter that all in this age profess; if anyone else is confident and thinks that he has grasped it with his whole mind, I marvel at his prudence, not to say his simplicity. For to me, it seems no minor task, nor one requiring little spirit, to give to each at the proper time their measure of the Word, ^A and to dispense the truth of our dogmas with judgment. This involves all those things upon which sacred philosophy has discoursed: about worlds or the world, about matter, about the soul, about the mind and intelligible natures, both the better and the worse, about the providence that binds and governs all things, and as much of these as seem to happen according to reason, and as much as seem to happen beyond the lower, human reason.

XXXVI. Furthermore, there are all those matters regarding our first constitution and our final restoration, concerning types and truth, the testaments, the first and second coming of Christ, ^B his incarnation, sufferings, and return, his resurrection, the end, the judgment, and the retribution, both the more sorrowful and the more glorious; and, what is the chief point, whatever must be believed concerning the primordial and blessed Trinity. This is, in fact, the matter in which the peril is greatest for those who have been entrusted with the office of enlightening others, lest by contracting the discourse into one person ^C for fear of introducing many gods, they leave us with mere, empty names, imagining one and the same Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; or, by dividing them into three, they fall into natures that are alien, strange, disordered, lacking a beginning, and—if I may so speak—opposed as gods, falling into the same evil by opposite means, just as a distorted plant does when it is bent too far in the other direction.

XXXVII. For since there are three diseases prevalent at this time regarding theology—atheism, Judaism, and polytheism—of which the Libyan Sabellius was the champion of the first, ^D and of the second, Arius the Alexandrian, while of the third some others...

are the advocates. ^A What is my argument? It is that, in avoiding whatever is harmful in these three views, we should remain within the bounds of piety, and neither be drawn into the atheism of Sabellius by this new resolution or composition, defining things such that all are one, or rather, that each individual thing is nothing; for what they are would cease to be if they were to flow into one another and pass through one another; nor, on the other hand, should we fashion and dream up for ourselves a composite and absurd God, like the animals of fable. Nor again, by cutting up the natures according to the madness—well-named as such—of Arius, should we be locked into a Jewish poverty, and introduce envy into the divine nature by circumscribing the Godhead to the Unbegotten alone, as if we feared that God would be corrupted for us if He were believed to be the Father of a true and equal-in-nature God. Nor finally, by opposing or establishing three principles, should we introduce the gentile polyarchy that we have fled. ^B

XXXVIII. Since, on the other hand, we must not be so affected by a love for the Father that we even take away the fact that He is Father—for whose Father would He be if the Son were separated in nature and removed along with created things? For that which is external and alien is not the Son, nor should He be mixed with the Father and confounded, and in like measure confuse the Father—nor again should we be such lovers of Christ that we do not even preserve for Him the name of Son (for whose Son would He be if He were not referred back to the Father as His cause?), nor that the dignity of the principle should not be preserved for the Father, as befits Him as Father and begetter. For it would be a principle of small and unworthy things, or, to speak more correctly, it would be a small and unworthy ^C principle, unless He were the principle of the Divinity and Goodness which is contemplated in the Son and the Spirit—in the former as Son and Word, in the latter as processing and not dissoluble Spirit. Since it is necessary both to preserve the one God, and to confess the three persons, and each with its own property.

^A XXXIX. But to understand these things, and to declare them fittingly and with the dignity that is due, would require a longer discourse than the present purpose, or indeed this life, affords. Nay, rather, both now and always, the work belongs to the Spirit, by whom alone God is understood, explained, and heard. For only the pure may touch that which is pure and ever self-consistent. The reason I have touched upon this briefly now is to make clear that it is difficult, especially when speaking before a multitude composed of people of every age and state of mind—like a multi-stringed instrument requiring various tunings and strokes—to find a discourse capable of harmonizing them all and illuminating them with the light of knowledge. This is not only because the danger fluctuates through these three things—the mind, the speech, and the hearing—making it necessary to stumble on at least one of them, if not all: for either the mind was not illuminated, or the speech was weak, or the unpurified hearing did not take it in, and so the truth necessarily limps from one of these or from all of them; but also because that which in other kinds of teaching makes the discourse easy and acceptable—namely, the piety of the hearers—here becomes a source of damage and danger. ^B

XL. For as those who engage in a struggle concerning God and the greatest of all things, and one’s own salvation and the first hope of all, are by that much the more hostile to the discourse as they are more fervent in faith, they interpret obedience not as piety but as a betrayal of the truth. They would rather cast away everything than the opinions they bring with them from home and the habit of the dogmas in which they have been nurtured. And this disposition of which I am still speaking belongs to the more moderate and not entirely wicked people, who, even if they are seen to flow toward themselves ^C as free from all danger, yet, since they are struggling for their very hope and salvation, consider their own obedience to be a betrayal of the faith; whence it happens that they would sooner betray or spurn anything whatsoever than the opinions they bring with them from home and the habit of the dogmas in which they were raised. In these words of Elias and also of Gregory, the impossibility—if I may use the word—of changing the faith once and for all delivered to the saints is wonderfully manifest; as is the difficulty of emerging from errors with which the mind has once been imbued. ^D

^A If they deviate from the truth, yet because they do so out of a concern for religion, and because they have a zeal indeed, but not according to knowledge, they will perhaps be among those who will be less severely condemned and less beaten than those who, because of their wickedness and malice, have fallen away from the Lord’s will. And these, too, might perhaps be brought to change their minds and be turned by that same religious concern by which they previously resisted, if some word should reach them—either from within or from without—striking them opportunely, even as iron strikes flint, to touch a mind that is pregnant and worthy of the light; in which, perhaps, from a small spark of truth, the flame of truth might most swiftly blaze forth.

^B XLI. But what are we to say of those who, because of vainglory or a desire for rule, speak wickedness against the Most High—of the arrogance of the Jannes and Jambres, I mean, who arm themselves not against Moses, but against the truth, and rise up against sound doctrine? And what of that third class, namely those who, through ignorance and its companion, rashness, rush like swine against every word and trample underfoot the beautiful pearls of truth?

^C XLII. Finally, what of those who bring with them no prior opinion, nor any model—whether worse or better—of the divine teachings, but submit themselves to every word and teacher, as if they were going to choose from among all of them something better and more certain, and—entrusting themselves to themselves—as if they were the good judges of truth? Then, being whirled and tossed about by one persuasive argument after another, and being overwhelmed and trampled by every kind of language, after they have changed many teachers and discarded many writings as easily as dust in the wind, they at last become weary in both hearing and mind (O what irrationality!) and grow equally disgusted with every word. They engrave upon themselves a distorted form, mocking and despising our faith itself as unstable and possessing nothing sound, and—foolishly, by those who speak—they move untaught from the speakers to the word itself; just as if someone, should their eyes be diseased or their ears corrupted, were to blame the sun or the sounds […]

voices, the former as dim and not shining, the latter as discordant and feeble.

XLIII. And for this reason, it is less difficult to imprint the truth first upon a soul that is still untaught, like wax not yet stamped, than to write a pious discourse over letters—that is, evil teachings and dogmas—in such a way that the latter are confused and disordered relative to the former. For just as it is better to tread a smooth and beaten path than an untrodden and rugged one, and to till soil which the plow has already often cut and softened, so too it would be more convenient to paint a soul upon which no wicked doctrine has yet been imprinted and upon which evil letters have not been inscribed most deeply. Otherwise, a pious writer must undertake a double labor: to erase the former patterns and to substitute for them others that are more worthy and better suited to remain. So many, indeed, are the evil types and characters—both in regard to other affections and to the word itself—of that evil one; and so great is the task incumbent upon the one to whom this instruction and supervision of souls ^B has been entrusted, that the discourse passed over much besides, lest it should exceed proper measure.

XLIV. Just as, therefore, if someone were to attempt to tame and lead an animal of a certain varied and multiple kind, composed of many beasts, large and small, fierce and tame, for him in governing a nature so perverse and monstrous, a very great labor and struggle would undoubtedly have to be undertaken; since not all the beasts are delighted by the same sounds, nor by the same foods, nor by the allurements of the hands, nor by whistlings, nor by the remaining methods of training, but some find pleasure or offense in different things, according to the nature and habit of each; so that he who has undertaken the care of such a beast must be adorned and instructed with totally varied and multiple knowledge, ^C and must apply to each one the treatment which is suitable for it, if indeed he desires to lead and preserve the beast with credit. In the same way, since this common body of the Church is like a certain composite and uneven beast, and is constituted from many and various characters and reasons, there is every necessity that the one who presides over it should also be simple [in nature] and [at the same time]...

as varied and manifold as possible, in regard to his suitability for each person, and that his manner of discourse toward all should be both fitting and appropriate.

XLV. For some have need of being nurtured with milk, that is, with the simpler and more elementary doctrines, since they are still infants and tender in their understanding, as one might say, and cannot bear the virile food of the Word; if one were to offer this to them beyond their capacity, perhaps they would be overwhelmed and weighed down, ^B their mind not being sufficient—just as their physical constitution would be unable—to draw in and assimilate what has been transmitted, and they would be damaged even in their former strength. Others, however, stand in need of the wisdom spoken among the perfect and of deeper and more solid [D (454)] food, for they have their senses well-exercised for the discernment of true and false; if one were to serve them milk and feed them with herbs—the food of the weak—they would be annoyed, and quite rightly so, seeing that they are not being strengthened according to Christ, nor are they bringing about the praiseworthy increase which the Word produces as it perfects men, and leads those who are well-nurtured to the measure of spiritual maturity ^C as the divine word brings about, leading them until they reach the measure of spiritual age.

XLVI. And who is sufficient for these things? For we are not like the many who are able to adulterate the word of truth and mingle wine with water; that is, the Word which gladdens the heart of man, with a great quantity of cheap, lowly, and vanishing stuff, flowing aimlessly so that they themselves might gain some profit from this huckstering, speaking differently to different people and pleasing everyone; they are like ventriloquists and babblers, serving their own pleasures with words ^D uttered from the earth and...

and cast down to the ground, so that we might win praise from the many, while greatly harming them, destroying them, and shedding innocent blood of simpler souls, which shall be required at our hands.

XLVII.

XLVIII.

entrusted even to those who have passed their twenty-fifth year, for these are the things which, under a humble covering, conceal a mystical beauty—the reward of toil and a brilliant life—shining forth and appearing only to those who have purified their minds, since only this age is able to rise above the body and ascend correctly from the letter to the spirit.

XLIX. But for us there is no limit established for teaching and learning, as there was formerly for the tribes living on either side of the Jordan with their stones; nor is there any rule as to whom this or that is to be entrusted; nor is there any standard of habit to which we require conformity. ^B But the matter is cast aside and confused, and we are in such bad condition that most of us—to say nothing of all—before we have cast off our first hair and ceased to lisp like children, before we have entered the divine atria, before we know even the names of the holy books, before we have recognized the character and the authors of the New and Old Testament—for I do not yet even mention the washing away of the mire and the stains of the soul which sin has imprinted upon us—if we have learned two or three pious words, and those drawn not from reading but from hearing alone, or have given a little attention to David, or have neatly gathered up our cloak, or have played the philosopher as far as the belt, painting on ^C a certain appearance and mask of piety for ourselves—O, what a prefecture! O, what an arrogant spirit! Even Samuel is holy from his swaddling clothes; we are straightway wise men and teachers, and sublime in divine things, and the foremost of the scribes and lawyers, and we designate ourselves as heavenly, and we seek to be called Rabbi by men, and nowhere is there the letter, but all things must, it is required, be understood in a spiritual way, and they are mere trifles and dreams, at-

- and we would be indignant if we were not highly praised ^A by these things. If this is the case with the more benign and simpler ones among us, what then of those who are more spiritual and more noble? They condemn and torment us greatly, if it seems good to them, and having nowhere set us ^B or accounted us, they depart, spurning our company as that of impious men.

L. But if we say to any of them, gently and logically leading them on, "Tell me, my wonderful friend, do you call dancing and flute-playing an art?" "Certainly," he would say. "What then of wisdom and being wise, which we define as the knowledge of divine and human things?" That too he would concede. "Come then, do you think those arts are better and more sublime than wisdom, or is wisdom far superior to them?" And I know well that they will all agree, and up to this point they are reasonable. Is there then, for dance ^C and flute-playing, a teaching and a study? And does it require time, and many sweats and labors, and paying fees at times, and needing guides, and undertaking long journeys, and doing and suffering all things through which skill in an art is acquired? Yet wisdom, which presides over all things and holds all good things within its grasp—so that God himself, although he is called by many names, takes more delight in this name than in any other—shall we consider it to be such a light and commonplace thing that, to become wise, only the will is required? ^D This would be a great piece of folly indeed!

If we say these things to them, and gradually purify their error, or if someone else among those who are more learned and prudent does so, this will surely be "sowing upon rocks" and "speaking into the ears of those who do not hear." Thus they are not even wise enough to recognize their own lack of learning. And it seems to me fitting to apply to them that saying of Solomon: "There is an evil which I have seen under the sun, a man who appears wise in his own eyes," and what is worse, one who has undertaken to educate others, while not even perceiving his own ignorance.

^A

LI. This evil is truly worthy of tears and lamentations, if any thing is; a condition I have often commiserated, knowing well that the assumption of knowledge takes away from real knowledge, and that the love of vainglory is a great impediment to virtue in men. But to heal and quell such a malady would be the task of a Peter or a Paul—those great disciples of Christ, who, alongside their power of governance, received the grace both in word and in deed, and became all things to all men, that they might win over all. ^B For the rest of us, it is a great and sufficient thing if we are rightly governed and led by those to whom the care of correcting and directing such matters has been entrusted.

LII. But since we have made mention of Paul and those akin to him, let us—if it seems good—leave aside all others who were set over the people for the giving of the law, or the prophetic office, or military command, or any other such administration, such as Moses, the noted Aaron, Joshua, Elijah, Elisha, the Judges, Samuel, David, the multitude of the prophets, John, the twelve apostles and those after them who later served in their turn; all of whom, in their own times, discharged the office of leadership with many labors and toils. Passing over all these, let us bring forward Paul alone as the witness of our discourse, and let us consider in him how great and what manner of thing the care of souls is, and whether it requires little trouble and little skill. That we may more easily understand and perceive this, let us hear what Paul himself says concerning Paul.

LIII. I omit the labors, the vigils, the fears, the vexations in famine and thirst, in cold and nakedness, ^C those who laid snares from without, and those who opposed from within, that I may pass over the persecutions, the councils, the prisons, the chains, the accusers, the tribunals, the deaths incurred day by day and hour by hour, the basket, the stonings, the blows of rods, the journeying, the perils on land, the perils at sea, the deep, the shipwrecks, the perils of rivers, the perils of robbers, the perils from my own race, the perils among false brethren, the livelihood sought by the toil of his hands, the Gospel without charge, ^D as he was a spectacle to angels and to men, standing in the midst between God and men; contending for the former, and for the latter, reconciling and joining a peculiar people to Him; besides these things, which externally

^A accidebant. For who could worthily recount his daily supervision, his care for each individual, his concern for all the Churches, his sympathy and brotherly love for everyone? Did someone stumble? Paul was weak. Was another scandalized? Paul was the one who burned ^A.

LIV. And what shall I say of the labor and industry of his teaching? What of the manifold manner of his healing? What of his philanthropy? And what, on the other hand, of his severity? What of the mixing and tempering of both, so that he might neither render men soft and languid through kindness, nor exasperate them through bitterness? He gives laws to slaves and masters, to rulers and those ruled, to men and women, to parents and children, to marriage and celibacy, to self-control and luxury, to wisdom and ignorance, to circumcision and uncircumcision, ^B to Christ and the world, to the flesh and the spirit. For some he gives thanks; others he rebukes. Some he calls his joy and crown; others he accuses of folly. With those who walk uprightly, he keeps company and shows himself a partner in their zeal; others who are going astray, he restrains. Now he excommunicates, now he confirms love; now he mourns, now he rejoices; now he feeds with milk, now he touches upon the mysteries; now he descends, now he lifts himself up with them; now he threatens with a rod, now he offers the spirit of gentleness; now he is exalted for those who are high, now he becomes humble for the humble. One moment he is the least of the apostles, ^C the next he offers proof of Christ speaking in him; one moment he longs for his departure and is poured out as a drink offering, the next he decides it is more necessary to remain in the flesh for their sake; for he does not seek what is his own, but seeks the things of those children whom he has begotten in Christ through the Gospel. This is the boundary of all spiritual oversight: to overlook one's own affairs everywhere in favor of the advantage of others.

^A LV. He glories in weaknesses and afflictions, and takes pleasure in the mortification of Jesus as though it were some other ornament. He is exalted in carnal things, and he exults in spiritual things; he is not unskilled in knowledge, and yet he says he sees through a glass and in a riddle. He trusts in the Spirit, and he buffets his body, chastening it as an adversary. What is he teaching us in these things, and in what is he instructing us? Namely, not to be high-minded regarding earthly things, not to be puffed up with knowledge, and not to stir up the flesh against the spirit. He fights for all, he intercedes for all, he is eager for all, he is inflamed for all—for those outside the law and for those under the law; he is the herald of the Gentiles and the patron of the Jews. He dared something even greater for the sake of his kinsmen according to the flesh, so that I too might dare to say something; he prays that they might be substituted for himself before Christ because of his love. O the greatness of his mind! O the fervor of his spirit! He imitates Christ, who became a curse for us, who took our ^B weaknesses and bore our diseases—or, to speak more moderately, he imitates Him by suffering something for their sake; and like one impious, he accepts it, the first after Christ, if only they might be saved.

^C LVI. But why should I mention each thing individually? For he lived not for himself but for Christ and for the preaching, having crucified the world to himself, and having been crucified to the world and to things visible; he considers all things small and beneath his desire—even if he should fulfill the Gospel from Jerusalem and around as far as Illyricum, even if he should attain to the third heaven by being caught up, even if he should become a spectator of paradise, even if he should be a listener to the ineffable words bestowed upon us. This is Paul, and whoever is like him in spirit. But we are afraid

^A lest, if we are compared with them, we should be some foolish princes of Taneos, or exactors gathering ears of corn, or those who call the people blessed falsely; nay, I will add, even those receiving blessings, while at the same time disturbing the path of your feet; or mockers bearing rule, or youthful prelates and in no way mature in prudence, not even possessing something of bread and clothing so as to be able to preside over anyone; or prophets teaching iniquitous things, or disobedient princes, and worthy, together with their fathers, to have a bad reputation because of the severity of the famine; or priests far removed from speaking to the heart of Jerusalem—all of which things Isaiah, having been purified by the Seraphim and the coal, ^B excellently rebukes and testifies against.

LVII. But perhaps this task is so great, and so burdensome and laborious to a heart that is endowed with feeling and is sorrowful, and truly a worm of the bones to a prudent man. Yet is the danger small, or the fall light and to be despised? But indeed, they strike great terror into me: on the one hand, the blessed Hosea, saying that there is a judgment against us priests and rulers, because we have become a snare at the watchtower, and as a net spread over Itabyrium, which is fixed by those who hunt for human souls; and threatening that he will act to cut off the evil prophets, and will consume their judges with fire, and will refrain a little from anointing king and princes, because they have reigned for themselves, and not through Him.

LVIII. Thence also ^C the divine Micah, not enduring that Sion should be built in blood—whichever blood you may understand—and Jerusalem in injustices, with its rulers judging for bribes, and its priests responding for pay, and its prophets divining for silver; for which things what is to be? Assuredly, that Sion shall be plowed as a field, and Jerusalem shall be as a lodge for fruit (or a guard-hut for fruit), and the mountain of the house ^D shall be considered as a thicket of a wood; lamenting also the desolation of those who have attained success, as if...

hardly a stalk or a gleaning 53 were left; when even the prince makes requests, and the judge speaks words for the sake of favor, and speaking almost the same things as the great David: Save me, O Lord, he says, because the pious man has failed; from which also good things will abandon them, as 54 consumed by a moth.

^A LIX. Joel, moreover, commands us to mourn 55, and wishes those who minister at the altar to beat their breasts, when famine presses them; so far is he from permitting them to indulge in luxuries while others are in calamity. And in addition to sanctifying 56 a fast, and proclaiming a healing, and gathering elders, infants, and pitiful ages, he even urges them—having seized the temple—to lay themselves down ^B in ashes and sackcloth 57, and, prostrated most humbly upon the ground, because the fields have been afflicted with sterility, and the libation and sacrifice have been removed from the house of the Lord, to draw down mercy through humility.

LX. But what of Habakkuk? 58 He employs even fiercer words, and is impatient with God himself, and as it were cries out against the kind 59 Master because of the injustice of the judges, saying: How long, O Lord, shall I cry, and you will not hear? 60 Shall I cry to you, being wronged, and you will not save? Why have you shown me labors and toils, to look upon 61 misery and impiety? Judgment 62 has become contrary to me, and the judge takes [bribes]. Therefore the law has been scattered, and judgment does not proceed to the end. Then the threat, and the things following it: Behold, you despisers, and look, ^C and marvel at wonders 63, and disappear, because I am working a work. But what need is there to bring forward the whole of the threat? But a little before 64; for this seems to me better to add 65 to what has been said: after he had called upon and lamented over many of those who were in some way wicked and unjust, at the end he calls upon—and calls out 66 with a struggle—even the leaders and teachers of malice, a confused subversion and a drunkenness of the mind

calling error vice, and saying that they are made drunk by their own, so that they may look upon the darkness of their own soul, and the dens of serpents and beasts, that is, the dwellings of wicked thoughts. And such indeed are they, and with such doctrines they hold discourse with us.

^A LXI. But how is it right to overlook Malachi? He who now accuses the priests gravely and bitterly, and rebukes them as despising the name of the Lord, and adds in some places, that in bringing to the altar polluted bread, and offerings that are not first-fruits, and things which they would not offer to any of their rulers—or if they did, they would be covered with ignominy—these they offer to the King of the universe, having vowed a vow: things lame, and sick, and corrupt, and altogether profane and to be rejected. But elsewhere he reminds them of the covenant of God made with the Levites (which was a covenant of life and peace), and to fear the Lord with fear, and to tremble before the face of His name. “The law of truth,” he says, “was in his mouth, and iniquity was not found in his lips. He walked with me in peace, and turned many away from iniquity; for the lips of the priest shall preserve knowledge, and they shall seek the law at his mouth.” And the reason is as honorable as it is fearful: For he is the angel of the Lord Almighty. ^B And while I shrink from the blasphemy of the curses that follow thereupon for fear of ill omen, I fear the truth itself even more. But that which is at once more moderate and more profitable to say: “Is it still worthy,” he says, “that I should look upon your sacrifice, or receive an acceptable thing from your hands?”—as if he were offended to the greatest degree, and rejected their ministration because of their wickedness. ^C

LXII. For whenever I make mention of Zechariah, I shudder at the sickle; and likewise at those things which he himself bears witness against the priests—both the things which he indicates concerning Jesus the Great, the high priest, whom, after stripping off in his account the filthy and unworthy garment, he clothes afterwards in priestly and brilliant attire; and also what the angel says to Jesus, and is commanded to perform. ^D

^A These things, indeed, perhaps referring to matters greater and higher than the capacity of many priests permits, should perhaps be consigned to silence; save that the devil also stood at his right hand to resist him ^B: a matter, in my judgment, of no little consequence, nor one undeserving of great fear and caution.

LXIII. But as to what he says, studiously accusing and attacking the remaining pastors—who is so bold and of such an adamant soul that he does not tremble when he hears these things, and become more temperate than he was? The voice, he says, of pastors lamenting, because their magnificence is afflicted; the voice of roaring lions, because they have suffered these things. He almost hears their wailing as though it were already present, and he laments together with those who are suffering. And a little further on ^C, he is yet more stinging and vehement: Feed, he says, the sheep of the slaughter, which their possessors were slaughtering, and felt no repentance; and those who sold them said, Blessed be the Lord, for we have become rich; and their pastors felt no pain for them. Therefore, I will no longer spare those who inhabit the earth, says the Lord Almighty; and again: Sword, awake against the pastors, and strike the pastors, and pull out the sheep; and, I will stretch forth my hand upon the pastors, and my anger was kindled against the pastors, and I will visit the lambs—adding ^D already, to the threat, the leaders of the people. With such intensity does he dwell upon his discourse that he cannot easily be diverted from the threats; so that I fear lest I too, by recounting everything in order, might become hateful. But as for Zechariah, he is thus minded.

LXIV. But that we may pass by those elders in Daniel—for we may well pass them by, and what was beautifully said and predicted of them by the Lord, namely that iniquity went forth from Babylon from the elder judges, who seemed to govern the people—how shall we endure Ezekiel, that seer and interpreter of great mysteries and visions

^A? How he commands the watchmen not to pass over in silence the iniquity and the sword that is coming upon it—as this would be profitable neither to himself nor to those who sin—but that to foresee and to proclaim in advance will bring utility to both, if the former speak and the latter hear; or, at the very least, it will profit those who have given the warning.

LXV. And in what manner, too, is the other attack which he makes upon the shepherds, now in these words: *Woe upon woe shall be, and rumor upon rumor, and a vision shall be sought from the prophet, and the law shall perish from the priest, and counsel from the elders* ^B; and now again in these: *Son of man, say to it: Thou art a land not rained upon, and no rain has fallen upon thee in the day of wrath; whose rulers in the midst of it are like roaring lions, snatching prey, devouring souls in power*? And after a few things intervening: *Her priests despised my law, and polluted my holy things: between profane and holy, he says, they made no distinction, but all things were one to them, and they averted their eyes from my Sabbaths, and I was profaned in the midst of them*. And he threatens that He will consume both the wall and those who daub it ^C—that is, those who sin and those who cover over the offenses of those who sin—which is the way of evil rulers and priests, who lead the house of Israel astray according to their own hearts, alienated as they are in their own desires.

LXVI. I pass over what he discourses concerning those who feed themselves, and consume the milk, and clothe themselves with the wool, and slaughter the fat, but do not feed the sheep; who do not strengthen the weak, nor bind up what was broken, nor turn back what was wandering, nor seek what was lost, nor guard what was strong ^D, but exhaust them with labor and deliberately destroy them: so that the sheep, because of the destitution of their shepherds, are scattered over every field and mountain, and have become a prey to all the birds and beasts, since there was no one to seek them out and bring them back. What follows then? *As I live, says the Lord, because these things are so, and my sheep have become a prey, behold I am against the shepherds, and I will require my sheep from their hands, and I will indeed gather them and claim them for myself; while they*

^A will suffer such things as it is becoming for wicked shepherds to suffer.

LXVII. But so that I do not, by enumerating the voices of all and all the prophets, draw out a long discourse, after I have made mention of one more, Jeremiah—known before he was formed and sanctified from the womb—I shall pass over the rest. He seeks water for his head and a fountain of tears for his eyes, that he might lament Israel as is fitting; yet he laments no less the wickedness of those who are set in authority.

LXVIII. For God, when convicting the priests, speaks to him with these words: The priests did not say, Where is the Lord? And those who held to my law knew me not, and the shepherds behaved impiously toward me. And He says again: The shepherds have played the fool, and have not sought the Lord; and for this reason the whole flock has not understood, and they have been scattered. ^B And in another place: Many shepherds have destroyed my vineyard; they have defiled my portion, which was desirable, so that it has been given up to an impassable wilderness. Then He turns again to them, the shepherds: Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture. Therefore thus says the Lord against those who feed my people: You have scattered my sheep, and driven them out, and have not visited them. Behold, I will take vengeance upon you according to the evil of your ways. Moreover, He commands the shepherds to howl and the rams of the sheep to be smitten, because their days have been filled for slaughter.

LXIX. But what point is there for me to mention ancient things? Who is there—should he test himself by the canons and rules which Paul established regarding bishops and presbyters, namely, that they be sober, chaste, not given to wine, not strikers, apt to teach, blameless in all things, and untouchable ^C by wicked deeds—who would not find that he falls far short of the rectitude of the canons? And why should I relate the things which Jesus prescribes to his disciples when He sends them out for preaching? The sum of which—so that I do not speak of each detail—is that they should be such in virtue, and so unencumbered and modest, and, to use a single word, heavenly, that the Gospel may run forward no less because of their life and conduct than because of their word and doctrine.

[LXX] As for me, the Pharisees laden with reproaches and the scribes under rebuke inspire me with fear. When we ought to be far superior to them in virtue, just as we have been commanded, if we desire to attain the kingdom of heaven, it would surely be shameful if we were found to be even worse than they. We end up being called the very things they are: serpents and a brood of vipers, blind guides straining out the gnat but swallowing the camel, tombs that are beautiful on the outside but filthy within, and dishes that look clean on the surface—and everything else that they both are and are called.

[LXXI] In these thoughts I dwell day and night; they dissolve my very marrow and consume my flesh, and they do not allow me to be bold or to walk with head held high. These things cast down my soul, contract my mind, and place a bridle upon my tongue. They ensure that I do not think about being in charge, nor about correcting or guiding others—which is a task requiring great abundance of grace—but rather about how I myself might escape the coming wrath and scrape off from myself some small part of the rust of wickedness. ^B It is necessary first to be purified, then to purify; to be instructed in wisdom, and then at last to instruct others in wisdom; to become light, and then to enlighten others; to draw near to God, and then to bring others near; to be sanctified, and then to sanctify; to lead by the hand with one's own hands, and to give counsel with prudence.

[LXXII] "When, then, will these things be?" say those who are quick to everything, but not sufficiently cautious, who build and tear down with facility. "When will the lamp be upon the lampstand? And where is the talent?"—for that is how they refer to grace. Thus speak those who are more fervent in their friendship than in their piety. When will these things be, and what is my reasoning, you ask, most valiant men? Not even the final stage of old age should be considered a long time to allot to this matter. For old age when joined with prudence excels ignorant youth; ^C and calculated slowness excels thoughtless rashness; and a brief reign excels a long tyranny; just as a small portion of something of great value is better than many cheap and dangerous riches, and a little gold better than many pounds of lead, and a little light better than the deepest darkness.

[LXXIII] Otherwise, there is reason to fear that this slippery speed and headlong zeal, if it sows the seeds among them not

similar to those that fell upon the rocks, and which, because they had no depth of earth, sprang up immediately but could not endure even the first heat of the sun, or that which fell on an unperfected foundation ^A that did not resist the rain and the winds even in the slightest degree—if, I say, it sows such seeds, it will have been in vain. "Woe to you, O city, whose king is young," says Solomon; and the voice of the same Solomon says, "Be not hasty in your words," implying that there is something less about speed in speech than there is about fervent haste in action. And who is there who, against all these considerations, would demand speed rather than security and utility? Who is there who fashions a champion of the truth, as it were a statue of mud in a single day—him, I say, who is to stand with angels, to glorify with archangels, to send up sacrifices to the altar above, to join in the priesthood with Christ, ^B to restore the divine handiwork, to present the image, to act as a craftsman for the world above, and, that I may say something still greater, to be a god and to make others gods?

LXXIV. I know whose ministers we are, and where we lie, and whither we are being sent; I know the sublimity of God and, on the other hand, the frailty of man, and again his power. "Heaven is high, and the earth is deep." And who of those who are cast down by sin shall ascend? Who, still wrapped in the nether gloom and the density of the flesh, shall purely contemplate with his whole mind the entire Mind—and shall be mingled with things that are stable and invisible, while he is himself among things that are unstable and visible? For scarcely would anyone here, even of those who have been purified in the highest degree, ^C be able to behold even the image of that supreme Good, just as those who gaze at the sun in the water. "Who has measured the water with his hand, and the heaven with a span, and the whole earth with his fist? Who has set the mountains in a balance, and the wooded dales in a scale? What is the place of his rest, and to what shall he be likened from among all things?"

LXXV. Who is he who fashioned all things in the Word, and in his wisdom created man, and brought into one that which was separate, and mingled the dust with the spirit, and composed a creature both visible and invisible, both transient and immortal, ^D both earthly and heavenly, one who touches God yet does not grasp him, one who draws near yet remains far off? "I said, I will be wise," says Solomon, "but it drew yet farther from me, far beyond what it was"—meaning wisdom. And in truth, "he who increases knowledge increases sorrow"; for it does not bring more joy to the

one who has found it, or to the one who is still ascending and it escapes him. This, I think, is wont to happen to those who are still thirsty and are either pulled away from the water, or, when they cannot hold anything, believe they have it, or are blinded—like those upon whom ^A a flash of lightning suddenly shone and then immediately abandoned them.

LXXVI. This kept me in a lower place and rendered me humble, and impelled me to the conviction that it was better to listen to the voice of praise than to profess myself an interpreter of things that surpassed my strength: namely, the majesty, the height, the dignity, and those pure natures that barely sustain the splendor of God, whom the abyss covers, whose hiding-place is darkness—being, as He is, light most pure and inaccessible to the majority; who is in the universe and outside the universe; who is all beauty and above all beauty; who illuminates the mind and yet escapes the swiftness and height of the mind, always withdrawing as much as is comprehended, and by the very fact that He flees and is, as it were, caught, He leads those who love Him onward ^B to things above.

LXXVII. So great and such is that which we seek and which we strive to attain; and such must be the bridesman and mediator of souls. Yet for me there is a danger, lest I be cast out of the bridal chamber, bound hand and foot, as one who is not clothed in a wedding garment, but has impudently intruded myself among those who recline there; although I was called from my very youth—and it is pleasing to tell something unknown to many—and from the very womb was cast upon Him, and was given as a gift from my mother's promise, and afterwards confirmed by perils. And at the same time desire increased, and reason ran alongside, and I gave all things as an offering to Him who took me as His portion and preserved me: wealth, splendor, health, and my very words, from which I have reaped only this fruit: that I have despised them and held ^C certain things to which I preferred Christ. And the oracles of God became sweeter to me than honey and the honeycomb: "and I called upon understanding, and gave my voice to wisdom." And also these other things were added, namely, to moderate anger, to bridle the tongue, to restrain the eye, to govern the belly, and to trample upon the glory that remains on the earth. I speak as one lacking wisdom, yet it shall be said: in these matters I have perhaps become no worse than the many.

LXXVIII. But this philosophizing ^D is greater than what our

own power can provide, namely, to receive the rule and governance of souls, when we do not yet even know how to be pastored rightly, nor have we been purified in soul as much as is meet, and then to be entrusted with governing a flock. And these things in such times as these, wherein he fares well who, seeing others tossed up and down and troubled, flees headlong from the midst and, having retreated under shelter, escapes the storm and the murky darkness of the wicked. For when the members fight against one another and charity is gone, if any remnant of it remained, the name of priest is otherwise empty, contempt having been poured out upon the princes, as it is written.

^B LXXIX. And would that it were empty! But now, may such blasphemy be turned upon the heads of the impious. All fear has been banished from our souls, and impudence has been introduced in its place; knowledge, and the depths of the Spirit, belong to anyone who desires them; and we are all pious from this one thing alone: the condemning of the impiety of others. Furthermore, we use as judges those who have declared war on God, and we cast that which is holy to the dogs, and throw pearls before swine, publishing divine things to profane ears and souls. And we, wretched creatures, diligently fulfill the prayers of our enemies, and we do not blush to play the harlot in our own practices. ^C Moabites and Ammonites, to whom it was not even permitted to enter the Church of the Lord, break into those things among us which are most holy. And we have opened to all not the gates of righteousness, but the doors of reviling and of mutual audacity against one another. And he is held to be the best among us, not he who, possessed by the fear of God, has not uttered even an idle word, but he who happens to have spoken ill of his neighbor the most, whether openly or in enigmas, and who has rolled under his tongue trouble and pain, or, to speak more aptly, the poison of asps.

^D LXXX. To this is added that we observe the sins of others, not that we might mourn, but that we might reproach; not that we might apply medicine, but that we might inflict a new wound, and that we might seek an excuse for our own vices from the wounds of our neighbors. Now, indeed, we characterize the bad and the good, not by their manner of life, but by dissension or friendship; and what is

^A stigmatized by others is by us admired; and everything is willingly conceded to the impious. To such a degree are we magnanimous regarding wickedness!

LXXXI. All things, in fine, were ^B made as they were from the beginning, when as yet there was no world, nor the present order and formation; but all things were confused and unordered, and required a fashioning hand and power. Or, if you prefer, it is as in a night battle, where, by the dim rays of the moon, we cannot distinguish the faces of friends from foes; or as in a naval engagement and tempest, with the collision of winds, and the heat of the roaring surf, and the incursions of waves, and the clashing of ships, and the pushing of poles, and the cries of the boatswains, deafened as we are by the groans of the falling and utterly bewildered, having no time to prove our courage—alas for the disaster!—we fall upon one another, and are consumed by one another.

LXXXII. Nor is the people indeed in this state, and the priest differently; but rather, it seems to me that it is now being clearly fulfilled, which was said in the curse of old: ^C *The priest has become as the people.* Neither is the common herd one way, and the nobles of the people and their rulers otherwise; but these, in fact, openly wage war against the priests, having piety as their pretext for persuasion. And as for those who struggle on this account concerning the faith, and concerning the highest and primary questions, I do not even blame them; but, if one must speak the truth, I even further praise and rejoice with them. Indeed, I would that I might be one of those who struggle for the truth and incur resentment and hatred; nay, I even glory to be in this number. For a praiseworthy war is better than a peace which separates from God; and for this cause ^D the Spirit arms the gentle combatant, as one who is able to wage war rightly.

^A LXXXIII. But now there are some who contend even about small matters, and matters of no utility, and who, most ignorantly and rashly, recruit as many associates in evil as they can. Then, over it all, they drape the name of faith, and even this solemn and venerable title is dragged into their private quarrels. As a result of this, it is only to be expected that we are hated among the nations, and, what is more grievous, we are not able to deny that this is justly and deservedly so. But even among ourselves, we suffer infamy among the more gentle and easy-going; and it is no wonder, if this is the case among the multitude, who could scarcely approve of anything good.

^B LXXXIV. The sinners have built upon our backs, and what we devise against one another, they have against us all; we have become a new spectacle, not to angels and to men, as was the most noble of athletes, Paul, struggling against principalities and powers, but to all the wicked, and at every time and place, in the market-place, at drinking parties, in pleasures, and in mournings. And we have even advanced as far as the stage—I say this almost in tears—and we are laughed at along with the most shameless; nor is there any entertainment or spectacle so delightful as a Christian being mocked in the theater.

LXXXV. This is what our intestine war has brought us: this is what those who fight immoderately for that good and gentle One have brought about; this is what those who love God more than is expedient have caused. And even though it is not permitted to wrestle, or to engage in any other kind of combat, outside of the prescribed rules—or else one will be shouted down by all, covered with ignominy, and will lose the victory, should he wrestle improperly or engage in any other kind of combat not according to the established rules of the contest, however brave or skilled he may otherwise be—yet one will fight on behalf of Christ, but not in a manner pleasing to Christ, and then claim to be a friend of peace, while waging war on its behalf in a way that is not permitted?

^D LXXXVI. And the demons indeed still tremble even now when Christ is named, and the power of this name has not become obsolete or extinguished by our wickedness;

^A but we, we are not ashamed to insult such a venerable reality and name; and though we hear Him almost openly and every day crying out, "My name is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you," we do not cease.

LXXXVII. I do not fear the external war, nor that beast which has now launched an attack against the Churches—that fulfillment of the devil—even if it threatens fire, even if swords, even if wild beasts, even if precipices and chasms, and even if it should surpass in its savagery and cruelty all those who were ever driven by madness, and even if it should devise tortures more bitter than those already invented. I have one remedy against all these things, one path to victory: "I will boast in Christ," ^B namely, that I may meet death for Christ.

LXXXVIII. But as for my own war, I know not whither to turn, what aid to devise, what wise speech, what grace, what armor I should gird myself with against the schemes of that wicked one. Who like Moses will conquer this one by extending his hands upon the mount, so that the cross, being patterned and foreshadowed, might attain the victory? Who like Joshua after him, proceeding into battle together with the commander of the divine armies? Who like David, either singing psalms or fighting with slings, and being girt by God with strength for war and having his fingers trained for battle? Who like Samuel, praying for the people and offering sacrifice, and anointing as king him who was able to gain the victory? Who like Jeremiah will lament these things as they deserve, writing lamentations for Israel?

LXXXIX. Who will cry out: "Spare, O Lord, Thy people, and give not Thy heritage to reproach, that the nations should rule over them"? ^C Who will pray for us, Noah, and Job, and Daniel—those, I say, who are prayed and numbered together—that the war may settle down for us a little, that we may return to ourselves, that we may finally recognize one another, so that instead of one Israel, we may no longer be Judah and Israel, no longer Rehoboam and Jeroboam, no longer Jerusalem and Samaria, which in turn are handed over to enemies because of sins, and in turn are mourned?

^A For I confess that I am weaker than this war, and for this reason I have turned my back, covering my face in shame, and have sought to sit alone, because I have been filled with bitterness, and I sought also to be silent, understanding that the time is evil; that the beloved have kicked against the goads, that we have become rebellious children, the vine that produces beautiful branches, the true vine, wholly fruitful, wholly beautiful, sprouting well from the drops from above; that the crown of beauty, the seal of my glory, the wreath of boasting, has been turned into dishonor for me. But if anyone is bold and brave in the face of these things, I consider him blessed for his confidence and courage.

^B XCI. Nor do I yet speak of the internal war, situated within ourselves and our passions, which we fight night and day, partly in secret and partly openly, by the body of humiliation, and by that which tosses and whirls us up and down, both through sense-perception and the other delights that are the rotation of this life, and by the mire of the clay in which we are stuck, and by the law of sin warring against the law of the spirit, and attempting to corrupt the royal image in us, and as much of the divine outflow as has been poured into us. For it is with difficulty that anyone, unless he has mastered himself through long-term philosophy, and gradually tears away the noble and light-looking part of the soul from that which is lowly and yoked to darkness, or has found God to be propitious, or both of these, and has exercised himself as much as possible in the study of looking upward, can overcome the matter that drags him down. But before one has overcome this according to his strength, and has sufficiently purified the mind, and has drawn near to God far more than others, I know that it is not safe to receive the care of souls, or the mediation between God and men (for this, perhaps, is what a priest is).

^C XCII. And whence was I led into this fear? Not, I think, that you should deem me more timid than is fitting, but

^A that you might the more highly praise the providence. I hear from Moses himself that at the time when God was delivering oracles to him, when many had been called to the mountain—among whom was Aaron, accompanied by his two sons, the priests, and seventy elders of the senate—the rest were ordered to worship from afar, while Moses alone was to draw near, and the people were not to ascend with him, as if it were not granted to everyone to draw near to God, but only to such as—in the manner of Moses—were capable of containing the glory of God. And even before this, at the beginning of the giving of the law, ^B trumpets, lightnings, thunders, thick darkness, the whole mountain smoking, and fearsome threats—that even if a beast should touch the mountain, it would be stoned—and other such terrors kept those below; and it was a great thing for them to hear, after having purified themselves thoroughly, even just the voice of God. But Moses, however, ascends, enters into the cloud, is given the law, and receives the tablets: to the many, the tablets of the letter; but to those who rise above the many, the tablets of the Spirit.

XCIII. I hear also of Nadab and Abihu, that by offering incense with strange fire, they were consumed by the same strange fire, being punished by the very thing through which they sinned, and finding the same time and place for their destruction as for their impiety. And not even their father Aaron, who after Moses held the first place before God, could be a savior to them. ^C I know also of Eli the priest, and a little later of Uzzah: the former paid the penalty for the lawlessness of his sons—who were daring enough to take for themselves the first-fruits from the sacrifices before the time of the pots—and this even though he did not approve of their impiety, but had often rebuked them; the latter, because he merely touched the ark when it was jolted by the ox, saved it, but he himself perished, God thus providing for the veneration of His ark.

XCIV. Furthermore, I know that even bodily blemishes in priests or in sacrifices did not escape censure; but it was so ordained by the laws that those who were perfect should offer perfect things, to signify, as I think, the integrity ^D of the soul. Nor was it permitted for anyone to touch the priestly vestment or any of the holy vessels; nor were the sacrifices themselves to be offered by any persons, or at any times, or in any places other than those commanded.

^C nor to imitate the oil of the anointing, nor the incense of the composition; nor even to enter the temple, unless he were pure in both soul and body, even to the smallest details. So far was it from being the case that one might boldly approach the Holy of Holies, which it was permitted for only one man to enter, and that but once a year; so far was it from being the case that anyone had the right even to look upon or touch the veil, or the propitiatory, or the ark, or the cherubim.

^D XCV. Knowing these things, then, and that no man is worthy of the great God, and of the sacrifice, and of the high priesthood, unless he has first offered himself to God as a living, holy sacrifice, and has shown a reasonable service—a service acceptable and pleasing—and has offered to God a sacrifice of praise and a contrite spirit (which is the only sacrifice that He who has given us everything requires from us), ^A how could I presume to offer to Him that external sacrifice, that antitype of the great mysteries? Or how could I assume the habit and name of a priest, before I had purified my hands by holy deeds? Before I had accustomed my eyes to look upon the creation in a healthy way, and only to the wonder of the Creator, and not to the detriment of Him who fashioned it? Before, through the discipline of the Lord, my ears had been sufficiently opened, and there added to me an ear capable of hearing things not wearisome, but an ear attuned—a golden earring bound with a precious sardius, that is, the word of the wise—for those with an ear to hear? Before my mouth, my lips, and my tongue had been opened, and I had drawn in the Spirit, or been expanded and filled by the Spirit ^B for the setting forth of mysteries and dogmas; and—to use the words of Wisdom—these had been tied by divine sense, and I would add, also opportunely loosed; and my tongue had been filled with exultation and had become a plectrum for divine melody, stirred by the glory, rising at dawn, and laboring until it cleaved to the throat itself? Before my feet had been made to stand upon the rock, fashioned like harts, and my steps according to God had been directed, so that they were not poured out or shaken at all? Before every member had become a weapon of righteousness, and I had put off all deadness, having been swallowed up by life and having yielded to the Spirit?

^A XCVI. Who is there, when he has not yet had his heart set on fire by the pure and fiery oracles of God, ^B as the Scriptures are opened to him, nor has inscribed them threefold upon the breadth of his heart, so that he might have the mind of Christ; nor has entered into the treasures hidden to the multitude, those invisible and dark ones, so that he might behold the wealth stored within them, and be able to enrich others, comparing spiritual things with spiritual?

XCVII. Who is there, when he has not yet seen, as is worthy to be seen, the pleasantness of the Lord, and visited His temple, or rather, has not yet become himself a living temple of the living God, and the dwelling-place of Christ in the Spirit? Who is there, who has not yet recognized the relationship and the distinction between the types and the truth, and has not yet withdrawn from the former and attached himself to the latter, in order that, fleeing the oldness of the letter, he might serve the newness of the Spirit, and pass over purely to grace from the law, which is fulfilled spiritually by the evacuation of the body?

XCVIII. Who is there, when he has not yet passed through, both in deed and in contemplation, all the names and powers of Christ, both those that are more sublime and primary, and those that are humbler and ultimate for our sake—namely, God, Son, Image, Word, Wisdom, Truth, Light, Life, Power, Breath, Effluence, Effulgence, Creator, King, Head, Law, Way, Door, Foundation, Rock, Pearl, Peace, Justice, Sanctification, Redemption, Man, Servant, Shepherd, Lamb, High Priest, Victim, First-born before all creation, First-born from the dead, Resurrection—who, I ask, hears these names and realities in vain, and has not yet obtained any communion with the Word, ^C nor has become a participant of Him according to the measure in which each of these is and is called?

XCIX. Who is there, when he has not yet found leisure, and has not yet learned to speak the wisdom of God in a mystery, which has been hidden, but is still a little child, still being fed with milk, still one of those who are not numbered among the Israelites, nor counted among the...

^A armies of God, not yet able, like a man, to bear the cross of Christ, nor perhaps ready, as a member of some more precious kind, to be set over the head of the Body of Christ note: the Greek text here implies 'receiving' (δέξεται) the honor of the head, while the Latin reflects the 'suffering' (patietur) of the burden, and to accept it with joy and readiness? Not in my judgment and counsel, surely; but this is the greatest of fears, this is the final danger for anyone who understands both the magnitude of what is being accomplished and the ruin caused by falling short.

C. Another, I used to say to myself, might set sail for the sake of commerce, and traverse the wide seas, and be constantly buffeted by winds and waves, to gain great profits if fortune allows, or to risk dangers, whoever is most skilled in sailing or trading; but to me it is preferable and more desirable, while staying on land, tilling a small and sweet furrow, and greeting gains and the sea from afar, to live, as best I can, on a small and meager portion, and to lead a life safe ^B and unclouded by storms, rather than to stir up long and great danger for the sake of great profits.

CI. For to a man of high stature it is a detriment not to reach for greater things, nor to extend his virtue to many, but to persist in small things—just as if one were to illuminate a small house with a great light, or to cover a child’s body with a man’s armor. Yet for a small man, safety consists in undertaking a small burden, and not in subjecting himself to those things which exceed his strength, at once exciting laughter and adding danger; just as it is proper for no one to build a tower unless he has the things required for its completion, as we have heard.

CII. You have our apology for the flight, and perhaps it is more prolix than necessary. ^C These, then, O friends and brothers, are the things which led me away from you—things painful to me and perhaps to you, but yet necessary, as at least they seemed to me at the time. But what brought me back was above all the yearning for you, and the fact that I felt you were held by a mutual yearning for me; for nothing is so strong for love as a mutual affection.

CIII. Secondly, there is my concern, my labor—that is, the gray hairs and infirmity of my holy parents, suffering more on my account than from age—of this patriarch Abraham, honored by me as a head ^D and with the angels, to receive.

numbering [the faithful] among the holy ones, and of Sarah, who ^A in the doctrine of the faith brings us forth spiritually: to be a staff to whose old age, and to support their infirmity by my assistance, was a prayer I had offered, as it was among the first things I had vowed, and indeed fulfilled so far as I had the power—to such an extent that I even despised philosophy itself, a possession and name dearer to me than anything else, or, to speak more truly, I made it my first act of philosophy not to appear to be a philosopher. I could not bear that the fruit of my labor, the sole purpose of my life, should be cut off from me, nor the blessing be extinguished, which a certain saint of old is said to have once stolen, having circumvented his father by means of food and a fabric of hair, and having obtained a good thing not-so-well through guile. These, then, were the two causes of my defeat and my gentleness. And perhaps it is not unreasonable for my thoughts to yield and retreat before those two, since there is a time for being defeated, as I suppose there is for everything; and it is better to be defeated with honor than to conquer dangerously and wickedly.

^B CIV. There has been a further cause, and one of the greatest importance, which, when I have set it forth, I shall pass over all the rest in silence. I remembered the days of old, and having run back to a certain history of the ancients, I drew from thence counsel for my present circumstances. For let it not enter our minds to suppose that those things were committed to written monuments at random, or that they are a vain confusion of words and deeds, composed for the sake of entertaining the minds of the hearers, like a kind of lure for the ears, reaching no further than pleasure. These things, indeed, the fables of the Gentiles offer, who, caring little for truth, cast a kind of deceit over ears and minds by ^C the elegance of their fictions and the allurements of their words.

CV. But we, who trace the diligence of the Spirit down to the slightest apex and stroke, will never concede—for it is not right—that even the most trivial actions have been written down and elaborated at random by those to whom they were handed down, and preserved in memory down to this present time; but rather [we believe they were kept] so that we might have reminders and instructions for our own similar circumstances, should any such ever happen to ^D us, for reflection: so that we may avoid some things and choose others, as by certain canons and rules.

^A

CVI. What, then, is this history, and where does this counsel come from? For it will perhaps not be improper to examine this for the sake of the security of many. Jonah also was fleeing from the presence of God—or rather, he thought he was fleeing—but he was caught by the sea, by the storm, by the lot, by the belly of the sea-monster, and by the three-day burial, which held the image of a greater mystery. But that man, so that he might not proclaim the gloomy and strange message to the Ninevites, and subsequently be found to be a liar once the city was saved by repentance—for he was not annoyed by the salvation of the wicked, but he was ashamed to perform the service of a lie, and he was as it were jealous for the credibility of prophecy, which was in danger of being destroyed in him, because the multitude could not behold the depth of God’s dispensation in these matters. ^B

CVII. But as I have heard from a certain wise man concerning these things, who not absurdly offered assistance to the oddity that the history presented on the surface, and who was capable of grasping the depth of the prophet, these were not the things that made the blessed Jonah a fugitive and brought him to Joppa and from Joppa took him to Tarshish, committing his own theft to the sea. For it is not likely that he, being a prophet, was ignorant of the intent of God: that through the threat, He was working, according to His great wisdom and His inscrutable judgments and the unsearchable and incomprehensible nature of His ways, so that the Ninevites would not suffer the things that the threats portended; ^C nor is it likely that, if he knew this, he would have refused to obey God, who was procuring their salvation in the way He wished. Truly, to think that Jonah had been led into the hope that he would hide himself in the sea and elude the great eye of God is not only entirely absurd and foolish, and unworthy, not to say of a prophet, but even of any other person possessed of a mind and of a [divine]

^A moderate perception of God and of His power which is above all things.

^B CVIII. Jonas, indeed, knew this better than anyone else, says the narrator of these words, and I believe him: he knew [the purpose] to which this preaching toward the Ninevites tended; and that, while devising his flight, he was changing his location but not fleeing from God. For neither any other man, whether by hiding himself in the ends of the earth, or in the depths of the sea, or by being lightened by wings—if such a thing were achievable—and ascending into the air, or by communing with the lowest parts of Hades, or by wrapping himself in the thickness of a cloud, or by devising anything else at all for the safety of his flight, could ever escape Him. For God alone of all things is He who can neither be avoided by flight nor overcome, when He wills to seize someone and bring him under His hand and power. He anticipates the swift, deceives the prudent, overthrows the strong, brings down the lofty, mitigates audacity, and crushes power.

CIX. Jonas, therefore, was not ignorant of the powerful hand of God, which he was threatening to others; nor did he entertain the notion that he could altogether escape the divine power—away with such a belief! But because he foresaw the fall of Israel, and perceived that the prophetic grace was passing over to the Gentiles, he therefore avoided the preaching and delayed the command. Leaving behind the lookout of joy—for such is the meaning of Joppa ^C among the Hebrews—that is, his former height and dignity, he threw himself into the sea of sorrow. And for this reason he is tossed by the tempest, and sleeps, and suffers shipwreck, and is awakened from sleep, and is taken by lot, and confesses his flight, and is cast into the sea, and is swallowed by the sea-monster, yet he is not consumed; but there he implores the help of God, and—strange wonder—at the same time as Christ, he is brought forth on the third day. But let the discourse concerning this wait for now, to be worked out by us more laboriously and at greater length a little later, if God grants it.

CX. But now, that I may return to the intended sermon, this thought came into my mind: that while some pardon might perhaps be granted to him for the reason I have brought forward, in that he declined the prophecy, what speech or what ground of defense could remain for me, if I were to be contumacious toward the rein for any longer, and refused this yoke of the ministry, which is laid upon me—whether it ought to be called light or heavy, I know ^D not?

^A CXI. For if someone might grant this one thing, which is the only firm and valid point that can be made in these matters, that we are situated far too low to serve as priests before God, and that one must first be worthy of the Church, then of the sanctuary, and before this, of the presiding office—perhaps someone else would not release us from the charge of disobedience. For the threat of disobedience is terrible, and its punishments are severe, just as truly they are for the other side: namely, to be in no way hesitant or reluctant, and, like that Saul of old, not to hide oneself among the paternal vessels, even when called for a short time to an administrative office, but to approach readily and easily as if it were a light and trivial matter, a thing which it is not even safe to renounce, nor to attempt to heal a first error with a second.

^B CXII. For this reason I was struggling in my own thoughts, examining what needed to be done and standing in the midst of two fears, the one pressing me down, the other raising me up. And having spent much time in this hesitation, and having balanced myself against both, or having been turned this way and that like a stream by unstable winds, I finally gave way to the stronger one; the fear of disobedience conquered me, and having seized me, it dragged me along. And observe how rightly and justly I act between these fears: neither to lust after an administrative office when it is not offered, nor to reject it when it is offered. For the former is the behavior of the reckless, the latter that of the disobedient, and both are marks of the ignorant. And I am placed, as it were, in the middle between the overly bold and the overly cowardly: more cowardly than those who leap toward all administrative offices, but more courageous than those who flee from all of them. This is my judgment concerning these matters.

^C CXIII. And in order that I may distinguish these things even more clearly, the law of obedience might perhaps bring assistance to the fear of accepting the administrative office, inasmuch as God, in His goodness, rewards faith and...

^A puts all his hope in Him. But as for the danger of disobedience, I know not who will be the helper, or what argument 47 can encourage one in confidence. For we must fear lest we hear 48 regarding those entrusted to us: "I will require their souls at your hands;" and, "As you have rejected me from being leaders and princes of my people, so too will I reject you from being king to you;" and, "As you did not listen to my voice, but turned a hard back and were disobedient, so shall it be when you call upon me: I will not look upon your prayer, nor will I listen." May it never happen that these words come to us from the righteous Judge, to whom, although we sing of mercy, we must also ^B undoubtedly sing of judgment as well.

CXIV. But I am carried back again to history, and as I contemplate the most approved of the ancients—all those whom divine grace has ever chosen for the governing of the people or for the office of prophecy—I find that some obeyed the call with a ready spirit, while others placed a delay in the way of the grace offered. Yet neither the timidity of those who drew back is to be blamed, nor the readiness of those who girded themselves to perform the task imposed upon them to be rebuked. For the former were awed by the magnitude of the ministry, whereas the latter, trusting in Him who called them, followed. Aaron was prompt; but Moses resisted. Isaiah obeyed readily; but Jeremiah feared his youth, and did not dare to undertake the prophecy ^C until he had received from God both the promise and a power superior to his age.

CXV. By these arguments I charm my own soul, and like iron, it gradually yields and softens. I take time as a partner in my reasoning, and the counsels of God as the justifications to which I have entrusted my whole life. For this reason, I do not refuse nor do I contradict, as my Lord says, when He was not called to a position of authority, but was led as a sheep to the slaughter; but I fall down and humble myself under the mighty hand of God, and I ask for pardon for my former sloth and disobedience, if there be any crime in this matter. I have been silent, but I shall not always be silent. I withdrew for a little while, so that I might look ^D into myself and bring some consolation for my grief, but now in the Church of the people, Him...

and upon the chair of the elders, I have learned to offer praise. If those things were worthy of blame, these are surely worthy of pardon.

^A CXVI. What need have we of a longer discourse? You have us, O pastors and colleagues; you have us, O holy flock, and—as is worthy of Christ, the Prince of pastors—you have me, O Father, subdued to your authority in all things, and more so by the laws of Christ than by external ones. You have obedience; render me a blessing. Lead with your prayers, guide with your word, and support with your spirit. For the blessing of a father strengthens the houses of children; and may I be strengthened, as well as this spiritual house which I have chosen, and which I pray may become my resting-place for an age of ages, being transferred from this Church to the one hereafter, and to that celebrated gathering of the firstborn who are inscribed in heaven.

^B CXVII. Such, then, is our prayer, and one so reasonable and just; but may God the God of peace, who made both one, and restored us to one another, who seats kings upon thrones, and raises the poor from the earth, and lifts up the needy from the dunghill; who chose David His servant, and took him from the sheepfolds, though he was the least and youngest among the sons of Jesse; who gives the word with great power to those who preach the Gospel for the perfection of the Gospel—may He Himself hold our right hand, and guide us by His will, and receive us with glory, feeding those who feed and guiding those who guide; so that we may feed His flock with knowledge, and not with the vessels of an unskilled shepherd—of which one was placed for blessing and the other for cursing by the ancients ^C —may He Himself give power and strength to His people, and may He present to Himself a shining and spotless flock, worthy of the fold above, in the habitation of those who rejoice, in the brightness of the saints; so that in His temple we may all say "Glory," flock and pastors together, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be all glory for ever and ever. Amen.

NOTICE ON ORATION III

I. Regarding this oration, Leuvenklaius, in his introductory letter or preface, as he calls it, to the works of Gregory, has this to say: "Regarding the timing, if we are to believe Elias of Crete and Nicetas Serronius, this should have been the first oration, not the one in which he so lengthily excuses his flight into Pontus; but rather a different one, of which the superscription notes that it was delivered to those who had initially summoned him, and who had not appeared after the office of presbyter had been committed to him."

II. That Leuvenklaius's opinion, insofar as it differs from the order we established in the first and second monita, is not of necessity to be changed. For we have seen in the previous monita that Nicetas's intent was quite different. As for Elias, we admit he favors Leuvenklaius. Billius himself also leans toward the same opinion in the final words of his argument on the *Great Apologeticus*. But the witness whom he cites is non-existent; for you will find nothing of this kind in Gregory regarding the presbyterate. Billius perhaps wished to cite Elias along with Leuvenklaius. Truly, what can be concluded from Elias against Gregory? Evidently Gregory, as can be read in our first monito, calls the oration we placed first a "propitious beginning," and finally presents to the Nazianzene populace "the sermons for which they were so greatly pining." Moreover, in this very third oration, he openly signifies the previous one spoken by him before: "What reason is there," he says, "why you neglect, now that you have received it, what you were so eager to receive?" Namely, the sermons about which he spoke in the first oration in exactly the same words. And shortly after: "Nor did you hold out a hand to those approaching a new task. This is," says Basil, explaining with a paraphrase, "whether we were establishing the beginnings of dignity and authority, or of our ministry."

III. Even more clearly, toward the middle, Gregory declares the oration he has already pronounced with these words: "And nothing happened closer to the mark than that I should keep to myself the address which I had determined to offer in place of a nuptial gift." He who speaks thus testifies that he did not keep it to himself, but delivered the oration which he had nearly withheld. Add to this what Gregory sang in the poem *De Vita sua*, verses 345 to 360, that he was so excited and disturbed in spirit by the ordination, or "tyranny" as he calls it, that "as if goaded by the sting of a gadfly, he soon departed without delay from parents, relatives, companions, and homeland;" regarding the delivering of the sermon; regarding the festivity; regarding "nuptials to be celebrated," about which he here speaks, no doubt thinking of nothing else.

IV. What of the fact that the manuscripts, written by hand everywhere, as we shall presently see, affirm both that this oration was delivered at Easter itself and that those who are chided here did not appear; and an old scholion on the margin of the Royal codex 2308 confirms this quite explicitly? It says: "He delivered this oration after he had been made a presbyter. For while still wearing the monastic habit, he was first consecrated (as presbyter) by the imposition of hands in Nazianzus, of which his father was bishop at the time. He himself, however, was living in solitude in the village of Arianzus, from which he also originated. But when requested by the Nazianzene clergy to join them in celebrating the feast of Easter, he did indeed arrive, but they were absent." From which, besides other things, we learn that Gregory had not yet exercised any presbyteral office, nor had he taught publicly before the day of Easter on which he delivered his first oration: and furthermore, that this very sermon was delivered on one of the days of the paschal season, *en tō Pascha*, shortly after the other, in the same year. This one, if it were the first, would have necessarily been delivered either on the Lord's Nativity, on which day Nicetas believes Gregory was ordained—and indeed with merit—or at least before the feast of the Epiphany, at which time, according to the same Nicetas, Gregory departed, intending to return on the day of Easter. Nor could those who had "tyrannically" promoted him to the rank of priesthood have been absent at that time.

V. Two scholiasts, one in codex Colb. 2695 and another whose fragment is exhibited by Lambecius in codex 97, affirm that Gregory was ordained as deacon only on the Lord's Nativity, and fled at the feast of the Epiphany; and that he was not consecrated a priest until the day of Easter, on which it is most certain the first oration *On Easter and the Delay* was delivered. If these things are true, not only did no other oration precede the oration *On Easter and the Delay*, but none could have preceded it.

VI. The learned Combefisius has a singular conjecture regarding this third oration. "I might think," says Combefisius, "that this was the first oration delivered by Gregory, when he had first returned, which was followed by the forty-first oration (that is, the current first), both being at Easter, taking that word a little more broadly, not for the single day of the Lord's resurrection." But this conjecture agrees neither with the things already said, nor with the oration *On Easter and the Delay*, which [he delivered] on the day itself.

^A The fact that it was delivered at Pascha is clear to the reader, and it can be reconciled. Indeed, the individual words of the oration savor of the very day of the Resurrection present at that time, and of yesterday’s celebration of the Lord’s Passion. Furthermore, a learned man is moved by these words of Gregory, "to the old and the new pastor," and professes himself ignorant as to whether these befit a simple presbyter or a bishop who was already governing the Nazianzen Church with his father among the shared responsibilities. This difficulty is too slight to have delayed a man as learned as he. For he, being highly versed in ecclesiastical antiquity, knew perfectly well that the titles "pastor," or "prelate, superior, president, antistite," were not, especially in those times, so peculiar to a bishop as not to be appropriate for second-order priests as well. Combefis himself, in his notes to the *Great Apologetic*, frequently reproaches Billius for attributing to bishops alone things which Gregory ascribes just as much to priests as to bishops. Nor does Gregory use these words, which give Combefis pause, only in this third oration; one finds the same expressions used by Gregory of himself in the first oration, § 6 and 7, and in oration 11, § 117. There is no one who would not admit that these orations were written before his episcopate. In them, he speaks not merely for himself, acting as a kind of vicar and assistant to his father the bishop, but also of the other priests, whom he calls "fellow pastors and co-pastors." Finally, in this third oration the discourse is everywhere about the Nazianzens and addressed to the Nazianzens, over whom our Gregory was never ordained bishop. He also indicates not obscurely at the end the persecution of Julian the Apostate, who was an emperor who had nonetheless paid the penalty for his impious desertion before Gregory was advanced to the episcopate.

VII. If anyone should contend from this that the *Great Apologetic* was not polished and elaborated until after this oration, we shall not much disagree; provided this be conceded, that it was placed quite conveniently after the former one on Pascha, as a second part of the same oration, as Elias says. Indeed, if account is to be taken of the time at which the final hand was applied to the *Apologetic*, it might seem that it should be placed after most, and perhaps even all, of the orations. For anyone can easily persuade himself that of those orations, this is the one that Gregory polished with greater care and refinement. In sum, the argument, time, and occasion of the oration are sufficiently recognized from the heading and the scholium above. It is first an expostulatory oration, then laudatory, and finally hortatory. With wondrous art, Gregory ingenuously and most lovingly complains, praises, and exhorts; to his old, or rather advanced-in-age parent, and to himself as the new pastor, he conciliates the goodwill of the Nazianzens by showing his own toward them, while at the same time adding spurs to their spirits for virtue.

ORATION III

I. What is this, O friends and brethren, that you are so slow and sluggish in coming to our sermon: especially when you have been so prompt and swift to offer force and to drag us from our citadel—that is, from the solitude (which I had cherished above all things, and which I had marveled at, regarding it as the comrade and minister of my divine ascent and as that which makes God out of man, and had appointed for myself as the guide and directress of my whole life)—that you would be so prompt and quick to draw me away? Is there any reason why you neglect that which you were so eager to receive, now that it is already accepted, and have seen fit to be held by a desire for one who is absent, rather than to enjoy one who is present, as if it had been proposed to you to be masters of our philosophy, rather than to reap any fruit from it? And in truth, even this seems to me...

^A to be something to be wondered at.

II. Nor have you gathered us in as guests, or come together with us—to speak with a little more sympathy—out of respect, if for no other reason, for the ^A commandment; nor have you taken us by the hand as those who are being led, nor have you emboldened us as cowards, nor encouraged us as those who have been constrained. But rather, you have made the festival feastless for us—I hesitate to say it, but it must be said—and you have welcomed us with beginnings that were not good; and you have mingled gloom with the celebration, precisely because you, as my victors—for it is not true to call you my lovers—do not provide for my pleasure. Thus everything that is easily conquered is easily held in contempt; and while the exalted is honored, that which humbles itself to God is dishonored.

III. ^B What do you want? Shall I dispute with you, or shall I be the judge? Shall I render a verdict, or receive one? For I hope for both: that if I am judged, I shall depart a victor; and if I pronounce upon the case, I shall justly and deservedly condemn you. Your crime, then, is this: that you do not at all respond to us in love, nor do you return honor to us in exchange for our compliance with you, nor do you guarantee with your present zeal that which is to come—which, even with such zeal, is hardly to be trusted, since everyone is more fervent when they first begin. Rather, you hold other things preferable ^B to both the old and the new shepherd, neither respecting the gray hair ^C nor inviting the youth.

IV. ^C There is in the Gospels a sumptuous and magnificent banquet, and a good and festive host, and friends, and a most pleasant feast; for it is the wedding of a son. And one invites, but they do not come; and he is indignant. I pass over the details in between, for the sake of avoiding ill omens, and to put it as mildly as I can, he fills the feast with other men. This, then, we pray God to avert from you; yet, how shall I speak of it gently? You have acted towards me more haughtily or more insolently than they who, when invited, insulted and rejected the feast, and treated the one inviting them with contumely. For you, being neither strangers nor of the number of those invited to the wedding, but having yourselves invited us, and having bound us to this holy ^D table, and having shown us the splendor of the bridal chamber, then

^A you have suddenly abandoned us (for this action of yours is truly most remarkable): one towards his own field, another towards his yoke of newly purchased oxen, another towards his newly wedded wife, another towards some other matter of slight importance, you have dispersed and leaped away, paying little heed to the bridal chamber, and to the bridegroom himself.

V. Therefore I was filled with sadness and perplexity; for I will not keep silent about what has happened to me, nor was anything closer to happening than that I should keep to myself the discourse which I had determined to offer as a wedding gift—a discourse which I possess and consider to be the most beautiful and precious of all—nor was anything closer to happening than that I should turn the sting of the same argument against you, my friends, since force has been used upon me; having chanced upon so clear an argument for a speech, and at the same time with love sharpening the tongue, which indeed is most keen and copious for accusation, when it has flared up into jealousy* on account of the grief received from ^B an unexpected slight. If any of you, struck by the gadfly of love, has felt himself neglected, he surely understands the power of this passion, and will therefore forgive us for having suffered this, and for having nearly fallen into this madness.

VI. But for my part, it is not right for me at this time to speak anything harsher against you, nor would I wish it to happen at any other time. And perhaps we have even chidden you more than is equitable in this speech—you, I say, the sacred flock, the glorious sheep of Christ, the divine inheritance, on account of which you are rich and wealthy, O Father, even if in other respects you lack resources. And I think that those words of Scripture are fitting for you: *The lines have fallen to you in pleasant places; for your inheritance is excellent for you* (Ps. XV, 6). Nor indeed will I concede that most populous cities and vastest flocks should be preferred to us in any respect, ^C who are few in number, who are of the smallest tribe among the sons of Israel, who are the very few among the thousands of Judah, the little Bethlehem among cities, in which Christ is born, and now and from the beginning is well known and worshipped; among whom the Father is exalted, and the Son is declared equal, and the Holy Spirit is glorified together: we who are of one mind, who think the same thing, suffering no loss to the Trinity, by either setting one above another or by cutting them off; as the wicked arbiters and measurers of the Godhead ^D do, who diminish and insult the whole.

^A VII. But as for you, if you have any mind to gratify me—my tillage, my vine, my very bowels, or rather the bowels of this common Father of ours, whom he has begotten in Christ through the Gospel—reverence us too. For it is just, since we have preferred you to all things; you are witnesses, and you are those who entrusted this position, whether it be an office of governance or a ministry, to our faith. And if more is owed to him who has loved more, by what measure shall I gauge that love with which my own affection has bound you to me as if by a debt? Nay, rather, grant honor to yourselves, and to the image entrusted to you, and to Him who entrusted it, and to the passions of Christ, and to the hopes from thence; retaining the faith which you have received, in which you have been nurtured, and with which you are believed not only to be saved yourselves, but also to bring salvation to others; for your boast, know well, is not of the many. ^B And consider that piety consists not in speaking much and often about God, but, for the most part, in keeping silence; for the tongue is a slippery thing for men unless it is governed by reason. And consider it always less dangerous to listen than to speak about God, so that it is more pleasant to learn something than to teach. Leave the more exact examination of these matters to the stewards of the Word; but do you yourselves honor God with your words in [only] a few things, but with your actions in much, and prove your love for Him more by the observance of the laws than by the praising and preaching of the Lawgiver—fleeing vice, pursuing virtue, living by the Spirit, walking by the Spirit, drawing unto yourselves knowledge by this means, and building upon the foundation of the faith not wood, nor hay, nor stubble—a light matter and easily consumed when our actions shall be judged or purified by fire—but gold, silver, and precious stones, things that remain and stand firm.

^C VIII. I would have you do these things and embrace us with this kind of honor, whether you are present at our discourses or prefer to be absent, whether you are led by a desire for our prayers or have some other pursuit more important than this. And become pure and blameless children of God, in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation; and do not become entangled in the things that surround...

that you may be blameless; nor be caught in the ropes of your own sins, nor be boundound by the chains of your own transgressions, and let not the word be choked in you by worldly cares, nor let you become unfruitful; but walk in the royal road, not turning aside to the right hand or to the left, and though it be narrow, walk in it as if it were a broad road, led by the Spirit; and our state shall be well both now and in the trial beyond, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory forever. Amen.

WARNING ON ORATIONS IV AND V

^BI. "He is not obscure," to speak with Basil, "when he states his goal as an orator: for he publicly marks the impieties of the Apostate with infamy, as if carved on a column. Nor does he attack him only by pointing out his crimes, but he strikes him with those same things upon which he seemed to be lifted up to heaven as if upon wings—by fables, histories, and deceitful sophistries, by illusions, sacrifices, and the frauds of demons and oracles, which he vomited forth as the greatest injury against us and against Christ. But since that entire subject matter is abundant and varied, the Father employs a varied and multiplex style of speech and artifice. Proceeding by way of panegyric, at times judicial, and then deliberative, he turns himself into every form that art allows, so that the oration may be varied."

II. Camerarius supposed that the twin invectives "Against Julian" were written by Gregory in the earliest days of his youth; but this, as Billius very well observes, is refuted by the gravity of the oration and the weight of its sentences, and also by the death and funeral of the Apostate, which are most certainly narrated therein ^C. And indeed, while still at Athens, Gregory, in the thirtieth year of his age, having known Julian while he was staying there, had predicted his demise as truly as it was evil. Soon after, as he says, that "beast" raged, and he was working on his excellent book "On the Priesthood"; therefore, he could not have written both these orations until after the Apostate had paid the penalty for his renounced religion and impiety. He died, in fact, on the night that connected the twenty-sixth and twenty-seventh days of June, in the year 363. Not long after—it seems, as the year 363 was ending, which the beginning of the first Steleutic and the conclusion of the latter clearly show—Gregory, having retired for the third time into the solitude of Pontus, was no longer concerned, together with Basil, with "Augeas's stable," nor with a "wagon" or a "plane tree"; he hewed and adorned not "any stones whatsoever," but a "column more noble and more exalted than those of Hercules," with a dual purpose; one which he intended to set up not fixed in a single place, but mobile in every place and time, for the sins of the Apostate and for the admonition of posterity. ^D For this is what Gregory achieved with his Orations, that once the praises which Eunapius, Libanius, Callistus, and other flatterers had perversely heaped upon Julian were exploded, he branded his name with an eternal mark of infamy. We fear less, with Baronius, to call Basil into a partnership of this labor and glory, because, being united in spirit and even in location at that time, both seem to speak in these Orations: "These are for you," he says, "the efforts of your adversaries, Basil and Gregory," etc. Both Orations are certainly worthy of praise, whose excellence, says Baronius, "the most famous orators could not sufficiently praise; and any prudent person would call them two lightning bolts, sent from heaven with a mighty crash of thunder and flashing with the light of truth, with a powerful strike against a horrendous monster."

III. Let those rash writers go away, therefore, and if there is any shame in them, let them hide themselves in corners, lest

what I might say more harshly, they, clinging to the footsteps of Eunapius, Zosimus, and Libanius, not only extol the miserable Apostate with the highest praises, but even join that praise with the disparagement of the holy Fathers and the injury of the Christian name. Who could tolerate ^A Petrus Cunæus asserting that "men distinguished in piety were blinded by the zeal of factions and were exceedingly bitter"; and that it happened from this, "that when judgment is rendered concerning those princes who lived long ago, the authority of certain ancients, whom we know to have been clear and illustrious in the Church of God, deceives us much." I am ashamed to pursue the rest of what he vomits forth in calumny against the holy Fathers, and what he gloriously proclaims about Julian, whom he does not fear to assert was far superior to Constantine, and he proceeds to such a point of impiety, nay, of madness, as to say that "veneration for Julian had entered his soul"; a man, indeed, whose memory has been execrable to all in past ^B centuries, and always will be. Clericus, vexed by the same delirium as Cunæus, attributes to the Theologian "bitterness of soul and impotence." A voice worthy of Libanius and Zosimus, and of those who have defected from the Catholic religion. To these it is permitted to despise the most holy Fathers of the Church and to praise the Apostate. But from where, I ask, is it established to them regarding the virtues of Julian? Truly from nowhere else, if they wish to confess the truth, than from Julian's own testimony about himself, or from Libanius, Zosimus, and Ammianus Marcellinus, namely the ethnic writers who, for their love for the deserter of the Christian religion and for their hatred and malice toward Christians, have lied about him in many things. By what right? By what fairness, are the most holy and most learned Fathers of the Church set behind ethnic writers? Or are Libanius and Zosimus, both Gentiles, more serious and clearer witnesses ^C of the truth than our Gregory and Cyril of Alexandria? Let those of our own who have inconsiderately written many things too gloriously about Julian, and not reverently enough about the SS. Fathers, especially Gregory, seriously weigh these things. Let the praisers of the Apostate read what Augustine wrote against the Donatists, who, having offered a petition to this emperor, had praised his justice; St. Augustine, not even allowing the praise of any justice to be attributed to Julian, and not thinking that it became Christians, sharply rebukes and attacks the Donatists. Our devotion to the holy Fathers and our debt of zeal for religion have elicited these things from us.

IV. Rejecting, therefore, the adulatory testimony of the ethnics concerning the Apostate, let us recognize that those things which the holy Fathers, and especially the Theologian, wrote about him are true. These things remain firm, these remain unshaken; and now, with the most famous father of the «Ecclesiastical Annals», one is moved to wonder how graphically the sacred writer, under the ^D overshadowed form of the apostate man, expressed every single lineament of Julian himself in these words: «An apostate man, a useless man, walks with a perverse mouth, winks with his eyes, scrapes with his foot, speaks with his finger, plots evil with a perverse heart, and at every time sows quarrels. To him sudden destruction will come, and he will be crushed suddenly, and he will no longer have healing.»

V. In the first *Steleuticus*, the "wickedness and perversity of the man," as Gregory himself says, that is, of Julian, is abundantly shown, both by those things which he perpetrated against the Catholics, as well as by those which he was preparing to do. In the other *Invective*, or fifth oration, which is the second part and appendix of this work, the orator proposes to himself another goal, and one both holier before God and more pleasant to the auditors, and thus more useful to posterity; namely, that he might add to those things said above the just scales of God, and describe those punishments by which wickedness is compensated and exercised. This is the scope of the second invective, in which he follows the death of Julian. Two things, therefore, remain for us to weigh. First, concerning the Orations, whether they were only written or whether they were also spoken: second, concerning the praises of Constantius, which offended the minds of not a few in the past, and still offend them today.

VI. That these Orations were made and written to be declaimed before the people, the beginning of the first and other scattered words seem to demonstrate; but we are forced to believe from Gregory himself that they were not actually pronounced: since he repeatedly confesses that, with the monks divided "from the Father" and split apart, he had withdrawn his speech and granted it to no one. But that division persisted, and the sorrow for the schism of the Church of Nazianzus, which like some cloud entering the heart of Gregory obscured the rays of his speech, remained when he wrote the Invectives. Which is indeed manifest in these words of Gregory, in which he marks none other than the monks who were more fervent in the zeal of faith, and for that reason dissenting from Gregory the Father. "And I wish that this group also might join our choir, which since it previously sang no adulterated or ignoble song (and therefore not Arian) to God, and since it was once held worthy of the right order (in which monks were placed for the sake of honor), and as I trust it will shortly be held again, I know not by what move it was stirred to suddenly change the chant to the contrary, and places itself in another grade and order; and it cannot be brought, even for the sake of common joy, to join with us," etc. These things in no way fit the Arians, but suit the monks perfectly, as do very many others. The Theologian says that he is restrained from exercising zeal against them regarding their "retaining the faith," and that he still "cherishes and embraces them as his own members." Would he have spoken so of the Arians? Therefore, these things are to be understood as concerning the monks dissenting from Father Gregory; dissi-

- senting, but only in writing, and not spoken before a crowded congregation.

VII. Now, as for the praises of Constantius, many have long been offended by Gregory’s encomiums concerning him, as has already been said, and indeed are so even today; and many have gone so far, as Baronius ^A testifies, as to "shamelessly and very rashly accuse Gregory of betraying the truth." Constantius certainly presented himself as more accommodating to the Arians and more hostile to the Catholics than he could be excused for, let alone absolved; yet Gregory, who praised him, can be excused and defended. First of all, it must be observed that Constantius did not burn with as much hatred among the ancients as he burns with among us today. For today, the name of Constantius scarcely signifies anything other than an enemy of Christ and the truth, a persecutor of the Church, and almost that of ^B the Antichrist. The ancients were more indulgent; perceiving some of his outstanding gifts and certain noble deeds, they formed a milder judgment of him and even adorned him with praises. To provide one of many instances of this, I shall bring forward a most weighty witness: Ambrose, who writes thus of him to Valentinian, "Constantius, of August memory, not yet initiated into the sacred mysteries, thought he would be contaminated if he saw that altar; he ordered it to be removed, he did not order it to be replaced." This indeed happened at Rome, when Constantius, ascending the Capitol, ordered the altar of Victory to be taken away from there.

VIII. The praises of Constantius by Gregory occur in those Orations which he wrote against Julian, his successor. Who, then, will show himself to be such a severe and rigid judge of an orator that he thinks nothing at all should be conceded to him if, comparing Constantius with Julian, he demeans the latter and extols the former? For this reason, therefore, it was permitted for Gregory to praise Constantius by way of comparison with Julian, and in praising him he can merit an excuse, even if he may have been excessive. By comparison with the worst, it sometimes happens that a bad man is praised.

IX. Constantius could also be commended, without adulation and falsehood, for his piety, or for the cult towards religion that he exhibited. There are certainly most clear testimonies of his devotion to the Christian religion in the laws promulgated by Constantius for that cause, and in the edicts sanctioned against the idolaters, the superstitious, the sorcerers, and the magicians; for which he could not appear to be in the least inferior to his father Constantine and many other princes of the orthodox faith. If Gregory is accused for having praised Constantius, St. Hilary of Poitiers will also have to be accused; he, that very prelate than whom no other was a more fervent defender of the Catholic faith against the Arians. For Hilary praises Constantius for his "singular and admirable wisdom, for his blessed and religious will." "I truly admire you, Lord Emperor Constantius," he says, "seeking the faith only according to those things which have been written; and properly hastening, indeed, to those very oracles of the Only-Begotten God, so that a breast capable of imperial solicitude might also be full of the knowledge of the divine oracles." If it is a crime to have praised Constantius, the great Athanasius will be called into the crime, that unconquered defender of the orthodox faith, in whom for many years the Catholic faith seemed to lean and rest: indeed, he calls Constantius a "humane and pious emperor." "They," he says, speaking of the Arian bishops, "promulgate beyond the mind of the humane and pious Emperor Constantius what they wish according to their own impulse," etc. You may find many other things of this kind in the Apologies of Athanasius; although from him, as from Hilary, he was heard more than once as a patron of impiety, an emperor of heresy, and an Antichrist. From this, it can be gathered how truly Gregory wrote these things concerning that unhappy prince: "Who indeed (Constantius), if he caused us any trouble, did not do so out of contempt for us, nor to treat us with contumely, nor to indulge others rather than us; but so that we might all come together as one, and be joined by the consensus of our minds, and not be torn and dissected by internal schisms." And in the second Steleutica: "For even if he appeared to decline not a little from the true faith, this crime should nevertheless be attributed to the obtrusiveness of the nobles and the weakness of their faith," etc. ^C 77 X. Deceived, no doubt, albeit – as Hilary bears witness – a man most desirous of hearing the truth, the good prince was unwittingly urging the Catholics, and was compelled to rage against them. Because they were not the sort to purchase a false peace by betraying the truth and their conscience. And this becomes the more credible from what Theodoret writes: "Even if Constantius, deceived by those to whom he had allowed himself to be guided, did not admit the word 'consubstantial,' he nonetheless sincerely confessed its meaning." Which things, indeed, if they are true, the fault of Constantius is to be diminished, although he cannot be fully absolved.

XI. Gregory, however, seems to absolve him, and even to place him in heaven. But this is an error to be forgiven, since, ignorant of the facts, he thought Constantius was a penitent; for he had heard that he had grieved on his deathbed that he had studied new dogmas. Gregory was certain, when he wrote his invectives, that "Constantius had closed his life with a pious end." But if, as he himself thought, it happened that he truly did so, Baronius says, it is not inconsistent with faith that it was rumored by the report of many that a song was heard from heaven, since there is joy in heaven over one sinner doing penance.

XII. It should surely seem strange to no one if Gregory, at the time he wrote his Invectives, knew less of whatever Constantius had done in favor of the Arians and against the Catholic faith and its defenders. He was still in his tenderest youth when Constantius attained to the empire, and for the whole time of that emperor's reign he lived as a layman, almost entirely removed from the affairs of this world, devoted to the study of letters, or even hidden in the desert and in his father's house, as if in solitude. Indeed, perhaps he was even unaware that Constantius, at death's door, had received baptism from Euzoius, and he finally believed that the emperor, upon the very point of death, had repented of his devotion to new doctrines. That Gregory believed this is necessary to conclude, for he held it as certain, as Baronius writes, that "Constantius closed his life with a pious end." But after the emperor became better known to him, he felt and wrote about him otherwise. This is indeed manifest from Oration XXV, where he says the following about Constantius: (57) "Again an evil empire, and again evil revives... and grave wolves, clutching us from elsewhere, rend the Church. Priests are armed against priests; the people are driven against the people with a furious assault. The emperor himself gives authority to impiety and institutes laws against orthodox doctrine; and, furthermore, those who are to be reckoned neither among men nor among women, whose power was great in his sight—who then could lament the evils of that time as they deserve? Exiles, proscriptions of goods," and the rest through which he perfectly expresses the most grievous storm of those times and the pitiable state of the Church under the reign of Constantius. He here calls the "empire" an "evil," whereas once, ignorant of the facts, he had called it "just." The exiles, the proscriptions of goods, and the "emperor" himself, who "gave authority to impiety," he attacks in such a way that he may deservedly be seen to have recanted the praises with which he had previously heaped upon Constantius. ^A

ORATION IV

1. Hear these things, all nations, attend with your ears, all you who inhabit the world. For I call out to you all, as if from some high and central watchtower, with a great and lofty proclamation. Hear, O peoples, tribes, tongues, all men, of whatever race and age, both you who now are and you who shall be hereafter; and that my proclamation may reach further, all the host of heaven, all you angels whose task it is to effect the overthrow of the tyrant—not the one who struck down Seon, ^B that king of the Amorites, nor Og, king of Basan, those petty princes who harassed Israel, that small part of the world; but that dragon, that apostate, that "great mind," that Assyrian, that common enemy and foe of all, who poured forth much fury and many threats upon the earth, and spoke and planned much iniquity against the Most High.

II. Hear, O heaven, and attend, O earth. For it is time for me to use the same words as the most loud-voiced of the prophets against the Greeks and against Julian.

^A Isaiah, by the sublimity of his voice, excelling all the prophets. This much, however, makes a difference: that he calls and testifies against Israel, who had rejected the law of God, while I do so against a tyrant who not only rejected it, but who died miserably, as his own impiety deserved.

^B III. Hear these things also, O soul of Constantius the Great, if there is any sensation for the dead, and all you souls of those who held the empire before him, who were pious and lovers of Christ; but especially you, who, having grown up along with Christ's inheritance and having increased it as much as your strength allowed, and confirmed it by the duration of time, so that for this reason you became more renowned than all the emperors who ever held office—(O the mischief! 71)—you lapsed into an ignorance quite unworthy of your own piety. You unwittingly nurtured the enemy of Christ for the Christians, and in this one thing alone of all your actions, you did not rightly employ your humanity and kindness, in that you both saved and raised to the imperial throne one who was to be so evilly preserved and who was to govern so disastrously. And I would believe that for this reason most of all, as from the suppression of impiety and the return of Christian affairs to their ancient splendor, so also from this oration, you would derive the greatest pleasure. ^C For I shall dedicate to God a discourse as a thank-offering, purer and holier than any irrational sacrifice, not according to his impious discourses and trifles, nor his more impious sacrifices, whose excellence and power was the power of impiety, and an unwise—if I may so speak—wisdom. For all the power and erudition of this age walks in darkness, and falls far short of the light of truth. And that indeed is such, and among such people, and has such fruits, like grass quickly withering, and like the green herbs of the field quickly falling ^D and passing away together with their ancestors, who perish with a sound, and are more manifest for their ruin than for their impiety.

IV. But to me, offering a sacrifice of praise today, and bestowing the bloodless honor of words, who will provide a theater that equals the favor? Or what tongue will sound out in sympathy as much as I wish? What ear will display an equal eagerness for the discourse? For it is not only to the Word that the expression of gratitude which is repaid through words is most fitting and appropriate, being, among other ways in which it is named, most akin; and for this, it rejoices especially in the designation and the power of the calling—but to Him also is the justice due, as to the Word.

^A Yet this punishment also becomes him handsomely, that for the crime he committed against our discourses, he should be tortured by discourse. For although they are common to all rational beings, he envied them to the Christians as if they were his own peculiar property, thinking most foolishly about discourses—a man who, in his own judgment, was the most eloquent of all mortals.

V. First, because he craftily and wickedly transferred the name to an opinion, as if "Greek" belonged to the religion and not to the language: and for this reason, like a thief of another’s property, he drove us away from the discourses—just as if he had also debarred us from the arts that have been discovered among the Greeks; ^B and he thought this made a difference to him because of the homonymy. Next, because he supposed he could escape our notice, not that he was about to deprive us of any primary good (for we ourselves hold these discourses in great contempt), but because he feared the refutations of his impiety, as though they possessed strength in the elegance of the diction and the bait of words, and not rather in the knowledge of the truth and in the arguments, by which we are less restrained and checked than we are hindered from confessing God, even while possessing the language; since we sacrifice even language, along with other things, just as we do our bodies, whenever the occasion arises where it is necessary to contend with these also for the defense of the truth. ^C Wherefore, he who issued this edict forbade us to speak in the Attic manner, but he did not at all prevent us from speaking the truth; and while he exposed his own instability, he did not escape the refutations: nay, rather, he unwittingly subjected and entangled himself in them all the more.

VI. For it was not the part of a man confident in his own religion, or even in the discourses themselves, to suppress our discourses; just as if someone were to think himself the strongest of all athletes and demand to be heralded before everyone else, yet he ordered that none of the brave men should enter the contest or descend into the arena, or he cut off one of his limbs—which is a proof of cowardice ^D rather than strength. For it is those who are contending, not those who are sitting in the higher seats, who carry off the crowns.

^A And it is against those who fight, not against those who have been stripped of the greater part of their strength, that one should be compared. If you were afraid to engage at all and to come to blows, by this very fact you have declared your own defeat, and it has been my lot to win the palm without any struggle, while you were so anxious to avoid the struggle.

This was the policy of our wise emperor and lawgiver, who, that no part of his tyranny might be wanting, and that he might proclaim his folly at the very beginning ^B of his reign, tyrannized over speeches before all else. But for us, it is honorable and excellent to give thanks to God for the very speeches to which freedom has been restored, and to honor Him both with votive offerings—sparing neither money nor possessions which, having been caught under the power of the times and the tyranny, God's mercy has preserved—and especially to honor Him with speeches, which is a just oblation and common to all who have partaken of grace. And let this speech, instituted for the sake of speeches, have its end, lest by extending it further we fall ^C outside the proper measure, and seem to be occupied with something other than that for the sake of which we have gathered.

VII. But now my discourse leaps and bounds toward the festal celebration, and rejoices with the things we see, and calls everyone to a spiritual dance—both those who were devoted to fasting and tears and prayer, asking by night and by day for release from the grievous things that oppressed them, and making of the hope that does not put to shame a healing medicine for their evils; ^D and those who, having endured great struggles and contests, and having been struck by the many and cruel onslaughts of the time, became a spectacle to the world, and to angels, and to men, according to the word of the Apostle; and who, though worn out in body, remained unconquered in soul, and were able to do all things in Christ who strengthened them; and those who, having put aside the worldly material of vice and authority, either accepted with joy the plunder of their goods, or—as it is said—were unjustly driven from their own, whether men or women, or parents or children, or by whatever other names of small intimacy we are held, being separated from these for a little while, and Christ’s

sufferings for Christ having borne fruit in their blood, they might now well say and sing at the proper time: "You have let men ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but you brought us out into a place of refreshment."

^B VIII. I call also to the celebration of the festival another part, namely those who, while confessing God as the God of all, and being sound in mind up to this point, yet do not at all penetrate the reasons of providence—which usually manages better outcomes from contrary circumstances and invites amendment through kindness—but, because of the poverty and fickleness of their souls, while the wicked man is proud in his thoughts, they are ignited and inflamed, and, to speak with the psalmist, they do not endure the peace of sinners, nor do they sustain the waiting for the counsel of God, nor do they maintain steadfastness of soul to the end; but, being always slaves to things present and to those which fall under sight, they are confirmed in the truth by such miracles.

IX. Now I also call those souls that marvel with astonishment at this scene and this great theater of the world; and I call them with these words of Isaiah: "Women coming from the spectacle, draw near hither, and having recalled the eye of your soul from outward wandering and gathered it in, be still and know that He is God, who is exalted among the nations and exalted in the earth," always indeed in all the miracles and portents which He has wrought, but more clearly and expressly in those now present.

^C X. And would that that group also would join our choir, which, although it formerly sang with us to God a song that was by no means adulterated or ignoble, and was once held worthy of the right-hand station—and, I trust, shall shortly be held worthy again—yet I know not by what impulse moved, it suddenly alters its song to a different one, and arranges itself in another degree and order. And what I marvel at even more, it cannot be brought to join with us even for the sake of the common joy; but rather it institutes privately a certain dance of its own, neither well-measured nor harmonious. For this, with their good leave, I might perhaps be allowed to say: but what, and of what kind? Zeal, I admit, urges me, but faith restrains ^D me; and I will suppress the harshness of my speech for the sake of the hope by which I am moved. I still cherish and embrace my members; I still have greater regard for former charity than for present contempt, and for that reason I show myself more lenient, so that I may later rebuke more sharply and fervently.

[XI.] I reject and drive away from this joyous celebration one class—one kind of soul—groaning and grieving indeed, and perhaps not even hearing my groans, nor weeping for them as they fail to perceive their own destruction. For this is the most miserable part of their plight. Yet I reject them nonetheless: those who were sown not upon the solid and unshakable rock, but upon the dry and barren ground. These are they who approached the doctrine of piety superficially and with little faith, and because they had planted no deep roots in the earth, they sprang up immediately; and, gazing about to please others, they subsequently withered and died at the brief and slight assault of the devil and the heat of temptation. And even worse than these, and still more to be excluded from this festival, are those who did not resist the time for even a moment, nor those who lead us into evil captivity—away from Him who ascended on high and who so wondrously took us captive. Instead, they appeared wicked and cheap in their abundance, not resisting even for a little while, nor—when any affliction or temptation arose—were they scandalized for the sake of the Word. Rather, the wretches bartered away their own salvation for some brief and fleeting gain, or favor, or petty power.

[XII.] But since we have purified the entire choir with our discourse, come, let us—as far as possible—having purified both bodies and souls, and having assumed one voice and been attuned by one and the same Spirit, sing that song of victory which Israel once sang over the Egyptians who were covered by the Red Sea, with Miriam leading and beating the timbrel: *Let us sing to the Lord, for He has been gloriously glorified; the horse and his rider He has thrown*—not into the sea (for I transpose this from the song), but wherever it was pleasing to Him, and as He Himself judged just. He who does and changes all things, as Amos says in his prophecy, philosophizing most divinely: *He who turns the shadow of death into the morning, and darkens the day into night*, and who guides and leads the whole world as if by some cycle, and our own affairs as well—things that are at once shaken and unshaken, moved and turned about by [these] changes, and appearing now in one way, now in another; yet, according to the order of divine providence, they are fixed and stable, even if they proceed through opposites, manifest to the Word, though unknown to us. He who cleanses princes from thrones, and adorns the inscrutable...

^A with a diadem; for this too I receive from divine Scripture: He who imparts strength to weak and feeble knees, and breaks the arms of the sinner and the wicked; for these too I take from another canticle, as each occurs to my memory: for many passages compose the song for me, and contribute to the weaving of my thanksgiving. He grants that the impious one may now be seen raised above the cedars, and now cast down and brought to nothing, if only we can pass by his impiety with a cautious and swift foot.

XIII. Who among those who recount divine things will chant and tell of these things as befits their dignity? Who will speak of the powers of the Lord, and make all his praises heard? With what voice or with what power of speech will one match this miracle? ^B Who has broken weapon, and sword, and war? Who has crushed the heads of the dragons in the water? Who has given him as food to those peoples to whom he also delivered him? Who has stilled the storm into a breeze? Who has said to the sea, "Be silent, be muzzled"? Or, "In you your waves shall be broken"—and indeed he broke them, when they had not for long surged and boiled. Who has granted this to us, that we should tread upon serpents and scorpions, no longer watching the heel in secret, as the condemnation requires, but rising up openly and crushing the head, to the treading of which they were condemned? Who is he who has wrought judgment and unexpected justice? Who is he who has not entirely let go the rod of sinners, dare we say, into the lot of the just? Or, what is more moderate, into the lot of those who know Him? ^C The Lord is mighty in war.

XIV. For we were not delivered over and afflicted as the just are; for this happens to few and rarely, in order that they, like noble athletes, may cover the tempter with ignominy; but we were condemned as sinners, and afterward obtained mercy, struck thus far, surely, with providence and fatherly love, that we might be made more prudent, and chastised thus far, that we might turn ourselves to Him. For He reproves, but not in fury; and He corrects, but not in wrath: by both demonstrating His kindness, that is, both through warning and through indulgence. Who is he who has made vengeance among the nations, and rebukes among the peoples? The Lord is strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in war.

XV. AGAINST JULIAN I.

XV. I find one voice, one song, in some way worthy of the present benefits—that, namely, which Isaiah proclaimed before us, which fits this time marvelously and vies with the magnitude of the benefit: ^A Let the heaven rejoice from above, and let the clouds drop down righteousness; let the mountains break forth in gladness, and the hills in exultation! Since all creation—and the heavenly powers too—in my opinion, perceive these things in a sense; for not only does the whole creation groan and travail together, subject to corruption, that is, those who are born and die on earth, awaiting their end and revelation, so that it too may then attain the hoped-for liberty, as it is now bound with them against its will because of the Creator's power; but it also together with the children of God who are rejoicing, proclaims His glory and exults.

XVI. Therefore—for I will not refrain from divine words while explaining divine power—let the desert exult, and let it bloom like the lily, that is, the Church, ^B who yesterday and the day before, as it seemed, was a widow and lacking a husband, just like all those whom the envious and unpleasant winter of impiety had formerly shriveled; because God has had mercy on His people and has not forsaken His inheritance; because He has done marvelous things, a counsel of old, true; that is, that He was well-pleased toward those who fear Him and who hope in His mercy; because He has broken the gates of bronze and shattered the iron bolts; because for our iniquities we were humbled, but we have been recalled, and, having broken the snare, we have been delivered by the grace of God who called us and who comforts the humble in heart.

XVII. Do you see ^C how I weave a song with divine words and sentiments? And I do not know how I am lifted up and adorned with what is not my own, and, as if inspired, I am moved by delight; whereas I despise all that is base and human, joining and fitting some things with others, and bringing together into one what belongs to the same Spirit?

XVIII. But previously, the miracles of God were attested by Enoch as he was being translated; by Elias as he was being taken up; by Noe as he was being saved, and as he was saving the seeds of the generations in a small vessel—the world, fleeing the deluge of the whole earth—so that the map might be adorned again with holier ^D inhabitants; by Abraham as he was being called, and was gifted with a son beyond his natural age, for the confirmation of the other promised seed, and as he was offering his only-begotten as a ready and eager sacrifice, receiving a strange victim in place of his son, and a paradoxical destruction of the wicked.

^A consumed by fire and brimstone; and even more paradoxical than this, the theft of the righteous: a pillar of salt, triumphing over the turn toward wickedness; Joseph, while being sold, and loved, and maintaining chastity, and being made wise by God, and being liberated, and rule, and distributing grain for a greater dispensation; Moses, deemed worthy of the vision of God, and receiving laws and delivering them, and becoming a God to Pharaoh, and leading Israel to the land of promise; the numerous plagues of the Egyptians, and the preservation of those oppressed by labors in the midst of the Egyptians; and the sea giving way at the stroke of the rod and closing again at the command, and letting the former pass as if on dry land, while engulfing the latter in accordance with its own nature.

XIX. And all the other things which followed these: the pillar of cloud shading by day, the pillar of fire providing light by night, and both leading the way; bread in the desert poured down like rain, and provisions sent from heaven, the one corresponding to the need, the other bestowed even beyond the need; water from the rock, in one part flowing out, in the other made sweet; Amalek defeated and routed through prayer and the secret and ^B mystical configuration of hands; the sun standing still and the moon held back; the course of the Jordan divided; walls collapsed by the circuit of the priests, the sound of trumpets, and a number possessing power; the earth and the fleece, alternately rained upon and remaining dry; power in hair, balanced against a whole army; a few picked soldiers who lapped [the water], who were believed to be going to win, and who won according to their hopes—the small number [overcoming] the many thousands. But why is it necessary for me to enumerate one by one all the things which through Christ himself, at the time of his saving presence and incarnation, and those which after him and through him, have been miraculously performed by his most holy apostles and ministers of the Word? How many books and memories bring these around?

XX. But now, come, hear, and I will ^C relate, all you who fear God,

^A so that another generation, and the successions of generations, might know the wonders of God's power. Yet since it is not possible to declare these without setting forth the magnitude of the danger—and this is not possible without exposing the malice of his character and from what origins and seeds of vice he fell into such great misfortune, gradually fueling that impiety, just as the most bitter venom of serpents and wild beasts—we shall leave the acting out of all his crimes in tragedy to books and histories. For we have no leisure to spin out a discourse longer than the present subject allows. But we ourselves, having rehearsed a few things from the many, will leave behind, as it were, a stele for those after us, directing our discourse to the most important and notorious of the events that occurred under him.

^B XXI. One act, and a primary one, is this: having been saved by the great Constantius, who had just succeeded his father in the empire (at the time when the military was armed against those in authority, fearing new revolutionary changes, and affairs of the palace were being established by new leaders), and having been saved, together with his brother, with a salvation both incredible ^C and marvelous, he showed no gratitude to God for his safety, nor to the emperor by whom he had been saved; but he appeared evil to both, nurturing apostasy toward the former and rebellion toward the latter.

XXII. That which it is necessary for me to mention to you before this [concerns] the diet and care they were deemed worthy of in one of the royal residences by the most humane emperor, as they were being kept for the empire as remnants of the lineage. He did this with the intention, on the one hand, of defending himself ^D against the actions that had been innovated at the beginning of his reign, as though they had not been dared according to his will; and on the other hand, of showing his magnanimity by admitting them to the fellowship of the empire; and thirdly, of making his rule more secure by these additions—a plan which was kinder than it was wise.

XXIII. Since they were at leisure from all business, then...

while the empire was still in expectation and only in contemplation, and while their age and expectations did not yet advance them to secondary dignities, they made use ^A of teachers of other arts as well, the emperor their uncle himself instructing them in every kind of encyclical discipline. But they applied themselves more zealously to our philosophy—not that which is concerned only with words and doctrine, but that which has piety seated in the character—associating with the best of men, and applying themselves to the most noble actions, and those which offered a clear specimen of virtue. They even enrolled themselves among the clergy, to such an extent that they would read the divine books to the people, thinking this to be no less grand and honorable for them than anything else, and indeed considering piety to be the greatest and most excellent of all ornaments.

^B XXIV. By the most sumptuous monuments to the martyrs, and by the munificence of their votive offerings, and by all else that characterizes the fear of God, they made manifest their love of wisdom and love of Christ. The one, in truth and seriously, professed piety; for although he was naturally rather fierce and fervent, yet he worshipped God sincerely. The other, however, was redeeming the time, and hiding his wickedness under a cloak and pretense of gentleness. And this may be conjectured from the following occurrence; for I could not pass over in silence the miracle that happened at that time, as it is especially worthy of memory, and of such a nature that it might serve as a lesson to many of the impious.

^C XXV. As I said, they were both laboring for the martyrs, and were vying with each other in splendor with their munificence and liberality, using the labor of many hands and great expense to erect the holy edifice. But because they did not apply themselves to this work with the same intention or spirit, for that reason their labor did not proceed to the same end. For the work of the one—that is, of the elder brother—was being completed and proceeded according to reason, as God willingly accepted the offering, like the sacrifice of Abel, rightly offered and divided: and this offering was, as it were, a certain consecration of the firstborn—^D but as for the other—alas for the dishonor hereafter of the impious, to which those subsequent events bear witness—

and by small tokens foretelling great things, ^A just as the God of the martyrs rejected the sacrifice of Cain.

XXVI. And so he labored, but the earth shook off what had been produced. He struggled all the more vehemently, but the earth refused to receive the foundations of his corruption with piety, as if crying out the earthquake that would come from it, and honoring the martyrs through the very dishonor done to the most impious man. This work was a kind of prophecy of the man's later arrogance and folly, and of his dishonor toward the martyrs, and his lawlessness toward the holy houses; ^B escaping the notice of others, but pursuing the persecutor from afar, and signaling beforehand the wages of his impiety.

XXVII. O soul, wise for evil-doing, yet not fleeing its own torment! O the singular providence of God, proclaiming future events, so that he might either check the impiety or demonstrate his foreknowledge! O miracle, new indeed and wondrous, but more true than it is wonderful! O the brotherly love of the martyrs! They did not accept the honor from one who was about to dishonor many martyrs; they did not accept the gift of one who was about to prove many athletes, or rather, who was going to begrudge them the very contest itself—or, to speak more truly, they could not bear that they alone out of the whole number of martyrs should be insulted, ^C while other holy houses were to be built and venerated by pious hands, and not to provide the architect of wickedness an opportunity to boast of the insults branded upon them; lest by the same hand the monuments of the martyrs should be partly raised and partly destroyed, and some martyrs be honored, while others be dishonored—the feigned and simulated honor forerunning their true disgrace by a little while—and lest he who is wise in his own eyes should imagine, by the magnitude of the insult, that just as he deceives men, so too he could deceive God, who is the most acute and wisest of all, and who catches the wise in their craftiness ^D through the very problem that appears—but rather that he might know himself to be seen, and not be puffed up as one who thinks he is understood, perceiving that his fraud is held in check.

XXVIII. For even if the God of the martyrs did not restrain that impiety, nor at once dry up or check the wickedness he was meditating and harboring in his mind, as though it were some evil flood—for reasons which He Himself, in His ineffable power and governance, knows and has explored, and by which He permitted the iniquity of the Amorites also to reach its fullness and be completed by a fixed counsel—it was nonetheless fitting, for the sake of the many, that such depravity should be met with hatred and detestation, that this honor should be rejected, and that God’s equity and purity regarding all things offered to Him should be demonstrated.

XXIX. For He who said to the impious Israel, *If you offer fine flour, it is vain; incense is an abomination to me*—insofar as He even rejects their New Moons and Sabbaths and the great day; for He who is full does not need any small human thing, that he should take delight in gifts offered unworthily; and the sacrifice of an iniquitous man, even if he sacrifice a calf, He execrates as a dog, and incense as blasphemy, and drives and shakes it from the temple like the hire of a harlot, and values only that sacrifice which pure hands, and a mind that is lofty and expiated from every stain of vice, offer to the most pure Divinity; what wonder is it if He did not even accept that honor which he was offering wickedly and with a wicked mindset, He, I say, who does not see as man sees, nor looks at the external appearance, but at the hidden man, and at the internal workshop of vice or virtue? And this matter is such as this. But if anyone thinks I am to be credited less, I shall produce as witnesses those very people who were present at the spectacle: for I have many who have transmitted this miracle to us, and will transmit it to those who come after. ^C

XXX. But after they had already advanced to man's estate, and had tasted the doctrines of philosophy (would that they had never done so!)—and had assumed the power of speech, which, just as it is an instrument and aid of virtue for the upright and honest, so it becomes a goad of vice for the wicked and flagitious—they were no longer able to keep the disease entirely shut up in their mind, nor could he meditate the fraud of impiety to himself alone. But rather, just as fire lying hidden in matter, even if it is not yet raised into a bright flame, marks itself by certain darting sparks or smoke from the depths; or, if you prefer, just as those fountains which move with a certain breath through subterranean caverns, and then, being most tightly compressed and having no free exit, send vapor on high in many places of the earth, ^D while being pushed from below by the spirit [of the air], and being held back and beaten back by the pressure from above: so also he, for the most part, [was unable to contain] the great [surge] of impiety.

^A hidden by the occasion and the discipline of him who held power; for it was not yet safe to show impiety openly. Nevertheless, there were places where he would bare the unfortified state of his mind—impiety or intelligence—to those who were sharper; in his discussions with his brother, he argued more than was well on behalf of the Greeks (under the pretext, indeed, of exercising an inferior argument, whereas in truth it was an exercise against the truth), and he took delight in all those things by which an impious character is marked.

XXXI. But after the emperor’s kindness declared his brother Caesar^B and entrusted to him no small part of the inhabited world, and there was available to him great power and freedom, and the ability to associate with the most pernicious of discourses and teachers (for Asia was to him a school of impiety, insofar as it is engaged in the vanity of star-science and nativities, and the phantom-show of foreknowledge, and the sorcery that follows these)—there was one thing yet lacking: for power to be added to this impiety. Not much time passed in the middle, and our overflowing iniquity grants even this to him against us, and the "good health" ^C of the Christians, if one may so speak, carried to the extreme, seeking the contrary change, as well as the power and the honor, and the satiety by which we lapsed into insolence and petulance.

XXXII. For in truth it is more difficult to guard and retain good things that are present than to acquire those that are absent; and it is easier for prosperity—once departed—to be called back by...

^A affliction, as the Proverbs well say, than for humility to be followed by glory; or, to speak more clearly, ruin follows pride, and success follows humility. For God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble; and he who metes out all things justly, brings about the opposites in turn for their opposites. Knowing this, the divine David also includes being humbled among the number of good things; and he gives thanks to Him who brought him low, as if it were from this that a knowledge of the divine statutes came to him. "Before I was humbled," he says, "I went astray; therefore I have kept your word," placing humility intermediate between transgression and correction, as though it were born from the former and gave birth to the latter. For indeed sin is the parent of humiliation, but humiliation is the parent of repentance. We, at any rate, when we were upright and moderate, having been raised up and having advanced little by little until we reached such a state and such a multitude under the guidance of God—when we became fat, we kicked; and when we were broadened, we were straitened. And the glory and power which we had gathered in persecutions and afflictions, we have squandered by acting improperly in prosperity, as the rest of the discourse will show. ^B

33. On Caesar and his life, an end is reached; for those things which happened in the interim I shall pass over in silence, out of regard for both him who did it and him who suffered it; revering the piety of both, I in no way praise the rashness. For since it was necessary that, being men, they should commit some sin, this is perhaps that which someone might censure in both; unless, even here, while we accuse the one, we might absolve the other from blame. Julian, however, immediately succeeds his brother in the empire, but not in piety; and a little later he succeeds even him by whom he had been created emperor—partly because he was willing, and partly because he was compelled by the common end; and he was so overcome that this disaster was fatal and ruinous to the whole world. ^C

34. What has happened to you, O most divine and Christ-loving of emperors? (For I am carried away to expostulate with you as if you were present and listening, although I know you to be far superior to our censure, being ordered according to God). ^D

^A And since you were transferred to a status as much better as the heavenly glory is superior to the earthly kingdom, what was this plan you devised, you who in wisdom and keenness of mind far excelled everyone, not only the emperors of your own time 22 but also those of former days? You who purged the barbarian nations all around, and subdued the tyrants at home, some by words and others by arms, and did each of these things so dexterously and excellently that the one caused you no trouble while you were occupied with the other. You who had great trophies won by arms and battle, but greater and more illustrious ones won without any shedding of blood; to whom embassies and supplications flocked from every side; to whom some nations already submitted, while others were on the point of doing so 24; and for whom what was hoped for was already equal to what was conquered; who were guided by the hand of God in every plan and action; whose wisdom was admired even more than the strength of your hands, and whose hands were again more admired than your wisdom; and in both, the glory of your piety was more illustrious still.

^B XXXV. How, then, did you appear so ignorant and thoughtless in this matter alone 25? What is this haste of inhuman humanity? What demon 26 crept into your deliberation? How could you hand over that great inheritance and ancestral ornament—I mean those who are named after Christ, the nation shining everywhere throughout the world, the royal priesthood, grown great through much toil and many sweats—in so short and brief a moment of time to this common pest and fury?

^C XXXVI. Perhaps, brothers, I seem to you to be acting impiously and showing an unjust and ungrateful spirit in these words, because I do not immediately join the words of truth to the words of the accusation. And yet, I have sufficiently defended him, even through the very things of which I have accused him, if you have only paid attention to the accusation. And here alone the accusation contains its own acquittal 27; for in mentioning his kindness, I have made manifest his defense. For who is there, even among those who know him but moderately, who is unaware that because of his piety and his love for us, and his readiness to wish us all good things—not to mention that he would have overlooked 28 honor for himself, or the prestige of his whole family, or the increase of the empire—that he would not have readily exchanged the empire 29 itself and all his possessions, and his life itself for our safety and preservation, than which nothing is more precious to anyone?

^A XXXVII. For no man was ever gripped by such fierce love and desire for any matter as he was for the growth of the Christians and for our coming into the highest amplitude of glory and power. Neither conquered and subjugated nations, nor a commonwealth constituted and governed by most excellent laws, nor abundance of wealth, nor greatness of glory, nor the fact that he was and was called king of kings, nor all the other things by which the happiness of men is manifest, nor finally anything of all these matters brought him as much pleasure as this: that through him we might be commended and through us he might be commended, both before God and before men, and that our power might remain firm and stable for us for all time. For he perceived well—thinking of these things, clearly, more loftily and more regally than most are wont to do—that together with the affairs of the Christians the affairs of the Romans also had received an increase, and that the empire had entered in together with the coming of Christ, when before this it had not yet completely prevailed so as to come into the single monarchy of one person. And for this reason, and indeed rightly, he appeared to me to embrace our affairs the more. And he indeed, even if he caused us some trouble, did not do so out of contempt for us, nor to inflict outrage upon us, nor to grant favor to certain others rather than to us, but in order that we might all come together into one, and be joined in the consensus of our souls, and not be split or dissected by schisms among us. ^B

XXXVIII. But, as I was saying, simplicity is insufficiently cautious, and to benevolence is attached weakness; and he who has a soul free and pure from wickedness suspects wickedness least. For this reason the future was ignored, the feint and dissimulation were not detected, and impiety crept in little by little, and two kindnesses met one another—the one toward the pious race, and the other toward the most impious and greatest contemner of divine majesty of all. What, then, of him, who having nothing to complain of regarding the Christians, nothing to disapprove of in our doctrine, and again nothing which he deemed extraordinary and excellent among the dogmas of the Gentiles, and of such a kind that it could hardly be refuted by speech, and finally, following the example of none of his ancestors in this matter, rendered himself most noble through impiety and contended in a new way with him by whom he had been designated Caesar? For when he could not surpass him in virtue and in glorious deeds, he strove by way of ^C the contrary...

path, that is, through a certain immoderate and unbridled impiety and a stubborn pursuit of vice, to acquire for himself the splendor of a name. Such, then, is the defense of Constantius regarding the Christians and toward the Christians, and it is most equitable and just, at least for those who are endowed with reason.

^A XXXIX. Since, however, there are some who, even if they absolve us of this charge, do not release him from another, but accuse him of foolishness for having entrusted the empire to his most hostile and bitter enemy, and for having first made him an enemy and then furnished him with power—laying the foundation of enmity through the slaughter of his brother, and then adding strength to it through the empire—it is necessary for me also to speak briefly about this and to show that this clemency was by no means entirely inconsiderate or alien to reason, nor removed from imperial nobility of mind and providence. For I would be overcome with shame if, having received such honor from him and being convinced that he excelled in such praise of piety, we were not to offer him a just defense; this is something owed even to those who have bestowed no benefit upon us by us, who profess the worship of the Word and the Truth, and especially after his departure from life, when there is no longer cause to fear that we might fall into the reputation of flattery, and ^B the discourse is now free from any evil suspicion.

XL. For who would not have hoped that, if nothing else, the honors would at least have rendered him more mild? And who would not have expected that, because of the trust placed in him—a trust even beyond what was fair—he would be more just? As though, by a just and imperial judgment, the one had been punished and the other selected. For since he bestowed upon the younger man honors that no one would have hoped for—not even the one who received the honor—it is manifest that he would not have taken action against the former without just anger; and the one is to be attributed to his own recklessness, but the other to the humanity of him who bestowed the honor. ^C

XLI. And at the same time, he had the confidence—if I may say the greater thing—not so much relying on the other's faith as on his own power. It was this, I believe, that Alexander the Great relied upon when, having defeated Porus, he not only spared his life—and this even though he had contended so strenuously for the empire—but also restored to him the kingdom of the Indians; as if in no other way could he display his magnanimity than by this, for he considered it more disgraceful for Alexander to be conquered in such matters than to be surpassed in arms, especially since it was in his power, should he find him wicked and ungrateful for the kindness, to send him back under the yoke of his ^D dominion. Thus, this kindness flowed from a certain great confidence of soul.

XLII. But why do I labor and contend so much in this matter, when it is easy for me to win the case, and even when it is already won? For if the one who was entrusted is wicked

^A even before he was supposedly proved to be at fault, where shall we place wickedness itself? But in truth, wickedness is a thing altogether devoid of reason; and there is no way for anyone to make the wicked better, since even that man, from the very things by which he ought to have appeared more kindly and just, and from which he should have extinguished whatever sparks of wickedness he possessed, was instead inflamed to greater hatred, and considered how he might avenge himself upon his benefactor. What, then, could any man expect from one such as that? And if one who has been entrusted with power is so devoid of reason—for wickedness is a thing devoid of reason, and a wicked man perceives neither justice nor equity, as even the ancient saying suggests—what sort of men are those ^B who have been gathered to him?

XLIII. These are the things which the Platos and Chrysippuses, and the brilliant Peripatetic school 53, and the venerable Stoa 54, and those who let fall their elegant phrases from their throats have taught. These are the things which the equality of geometry and the discourses concerning justice, and that noble saying that it is better to choose to suffer injustice than to commit it 55, have taught. These are the things which those noble masters, those fellow-combatants and lawgivers of the empire, whom he had gathered to himself from the crossroads and the pits 56, professed! He did not praise their character, but admired their eloquence—and perhaps not even that, but their impiety alone, as a sufficient counselor and mistress of things to be done or left undone 57.

XLIV. Yet why is it not fitting to admire these men, who with their reason create cities ^C that cannot in reality exist, and all but worship their own imposing tyrannies 58, and value an obol above the gods, and bear themselves with such pride 59? And some of them claim that there is no God at all, while others 60 maintain that God has no concern for human affairs, but that all things are borne along randomly and by chance; others claim that all things are moved by the stars and the configurations of necessity 61—I know not by whom moved or whence—while others suppose that all things tend toward pleasure 62, and that this is the final end of human life. For them, virtue is nothing more than a pretty name, and it does not extend beyond this present life, nor is there any account taken of things done in this life ^D after it has reached its end. For there being two things—committing injustice and being treated with injustice—we say that committing injustice is the greater evil, and being treated with it the lesser.

^A For did any of those accounted wise among them perceive these things? On the contrary, they were engulfed in deep mire—as the saying goes—and in the lightless gloom of deceit and ignorance, their understanding so far from being cleansed that they might behold the rays of truth, that they remained wallowing in earthly and sensible mire, incapable of conceiving anything in their minds above the demons or of being raised up as is worthy of the Creator. And if any did look up even a little, they were carried away by the more plausible argument, and by that which from its very closeness more easily entices the masses, not using God as their guide but human reason.

^B XLV. What wonder is it, then, if a man who proceeded from such doctrines and was governed by such guides should show himself evil and wicked toward one who had trusted him and honored him? For if one must, through accusation, defend him somewhat—not so much because he grieved for the death of his brother (since he regarded him also as an enemy on account of his religion), but because he bore with great annoyance the growth of Christian affairs and, raging against piety, dared to attack the established order and sought freedom for his own recklessness—for it was fitting that philosophy and empire, according to their doctrine, should come together; not so that cities might cease from evils, but that they might be filled with them.

^C XLVI. And his first act of arrogance and recklessness was to crown himself, and to honor himself with that great title (which is not a prize of fortune, but a reward of virtue, or granted by time, or by the emperor's vote, or by the judgment of the senate, as was the custom of old)—nor did he refer the measure of this honor to the emperor's will. And as for the second—for he knew that he had already made recklessness necessary for himself by what he had already dared—what does he contemplate? And to what lengths of impiety and boldness does he proceed? O, the madness of that soul! He marches against him, and...

moves his footsteps from the West: apparently with the excuse—as he would have it ^A believed—of clearing himself concerning the diadem he had seized, for he still wanted to keep his madness hidden; but the truth was, that he might transfer the entire empire to himself and be admired for his impudence and ingratitude. And in this hope he was not in the least disappointed.

XLVII. Yet let not those who do not understand the unfathomable depth of the rational principles of God, by which all things are governed, wonder at this; nor let them refuse to yield to the Architect of providence—who is certainly wiser than us, and who leads his own creatures as and where He wills, but always toward what is better and toward the healing of our ailments, even if those who are being treated find it hard to bear. ^B By these divine principles he was not himself incited to evil—for God is in no way the cause of evil, being good by nature, and wickedness belongs to the one who chooses it—but he was not restrained in his impetus. In truth, with great speed, he traversed both his own territory and a portion of the barbarian border, and, having slipped through—rather by deception than by conquest—he began to threaten the heart of the empire. According to those who defend his side, he was carried away to embark on this expedition by a foreknowledge of the future and by the impulse and urging of demons, who promised him successful events and declared that a change in affairs was ordained. ^C But as they say who speak the truth, he arrived at a time predetermined for an arcane and hidden crime, and was hurrying toward the death of which he himself was the architect, concealing his attempt in the meantime through one of his domestics. Thus that crime was not a matter of foreknowledge, but of fore-planning, and it was a work of wickedness, not a favor of demons—and how clever they are in such things, Persia clearly demonstrated. Let those who attribute his speed to demons finally be put to silence; unless, indeed, we are to add this very wickedness of his to their account as well.

XLVIII. For if the death of the emperor had not anticipated the tyrant’s arrival and assault, and if the secret war had not prevailed more than the open attack, perhaps that ^D wretched and impious man would have learned...

to bridle his own madness, and would have paid the penalty within the borders of the Romans, upon whom he so wickedly dared to encroach. Evidence of this is that even while he was still advancing and, as he thought, unknown to our most noble emperor ^A, he was surrounded by an army which was cutting off his retreat, as was clearly shown by subsequent events—for even when he (Julian) already held sovereign power, it was no small task for him to overcome that army. But now, he who was boiling over with rage, both against his own insanity and his impiety, and who held that most wise man in his snares—oh, the magnitude of our own wickedness!—ended his life in the prime of his journey, having defended his own clemency with many words both to God and to men, and having shown to the Christians, through his own impetuous rush, the movement toward piety ^B.

XLIX. At this point, tears mingled with joy come to me because of what follows in my discourse; they are like the battle, the mingling, and the conflict of a river and the sea, resisting and joining one another. For instance, from the latest events I experience a sense of pleasure, but from those that preceded them, tears; and this not only for the sake of the Christians and the affliction that befell them—which was either brought on by the devil, or permitted by God for reasons He alone knows, perhaps because our own pride stood in need of purification—but also for the sake of his soul itself, and for those who were snatched away by him to that same destruction ^C.

L. For some people lament only the final blows and the torments suffered in this present age; these are the people who consider only the present life and do not penetrate with their minds to what lies beyond, nor do they believe that there is any accounting or recompense for what is done here. Instead, they live the life of irrational animals, existing only for the day and the present moment, measuring happiness by this simple standard of worldly ease and tranquility, and defining unhappiness as the opposite, namely, the occurrence of adverse events. But I feel it is a more serious matter to mourn them because of the torments of the life to come, and the punishments that await the wicked and the impious. And I do not yet speak of the greatest thing of all, namely, the sheer magnitude of the penalty involved in being cast out from God ^D.

^A LI. How, then, shall I not weep for the miserable man? How shall I not lament the seekers of his company even more than those who were persecuted? And how shall I not mourn even more for the one who dragged others into ruin than for those who ran into wickedness of their own accord? Or rather, for the former, to suffer for Christ’s sake is no terrible thing—nay, it is of all things the most blessed—not only because of the rewards to come, but also because of the glory and boldness in this life which they gained for themselves through their trials. But for the others, the things they have already suffered are merely a prelude to the things laid up and threatened for them; and it would have been better for them to have been punished for a longer time in this life than to be reserved for the tribunals of the world to come. This much I say because of the law that forbids rejoicing at the fall of an enemy [(Prov. XXIV 17)], and demands compassion from those who stand firm. But I must now turn my speech back to him ^B once again.

LII. What is this such pertinacious zeal for evil? What is this great love of impiety? What is this headlong rush to destruction? Whence does it come that a disciple of Christ should be so hostile to Christ? He who had been conversant with so many and such great discourses of the truth, having himself uttered some, and having heard others from those who lead to salvation? For he had barely inherited the empire before he openly and freely professed impiety, as if he were ashamed even of this name, that he had once been a Christian, or was angry on that account at the Christians with whom he had been joined in the communion of that name. And from this he began his wicked deeds, as they tell it who boast of his secrets (alas, into what language I am forced to fall!). He wipes away his baptism with impure and wicked blood, opposing to our initiation an execrable initiation, like the sow wallowing in the mire, as the proverb says; and he profanes his hands, so that he might, forsooth, wash off ^C and purge them from the unbloody sacrifice through which we communicate with Christ and His passion and divinity. By means of incisions and sacrifices he constitutes his imperial court, employing bad counselors for a bad reign.

LIII. But since I have made mention of incisions and the superstition—or, to speak more appropriately, the diabolical insanity—to which the man was driven in such matters, I am not yet sure whether I should commit to writing this much-bruited wonder, or wheth-

whether I should deny it credence. For I am myself of a doubtful and uncertain mind, and know not to which side I should incline, as those things which deserve belief are mingled with those that appear to lack it. For that some sign or prodigy should accompany so novel and unusual a wickedness and impiety is not at all contrary to the truth, but has very often happened during the greatest upheavals. But that it should have happened in this particular way—this is what seems to me, at least, to be worthy of supreme wonder, and to all who desire that things which are pure should be purely declared and considered.

^A LIV. The story goes, then, that when he was offering sacrifice, the entrails displayed a crowned cross. This sight indeed filled others with horror and anxiety, and made them recognize our power; but to the master of impiety it obviously gave courage, as if we were hemmed in and trapped on all sides—for this is how he improvised his interpretation of the cross and the circle. This, indeed, is what I regard in the light of a miracle. But if it is false, may it vanish into the air; yet if it is true, once again Balaam prophesies, and Samuel is drawn up—or seems to be—through a ventriloquist, and demons unwillingly confess Jesus, and by means of the very things that are contrary, the truth is demonstrated so that it may have all the more faith and authority. And perhaps Providence was acting through these matters to restrain his impiety. For God knows how to open many wondrous ways of salvation in an ^B unusual manner, inclining toward human kindness and mercy. And that this is reported by many is not foreign to the faith, and I shall pursue it in my discourse.

LV. He was descending into a certain sanctuary, inaccessible and terrifying to the multitude (would that he had also gone down into Hades before breaking forth into such wickedness!), having as a companion one who was worthy of many such sanctuaries—that is, a man wise or "sophical" in such matters, or rather a sophist and impostor. For this, too, is a kind of divination among them: to hold communion with subterranean demons in a dark cave concerning future events. This is either because they delight more in darkness, since they themselves are darkness and ^C craftsmen of the darkness of vice; or because they flee the fellowship and meeting of pious men who are on earth, and are rendered weaker by them. But as that excellent man was proceeding, terrors began to assail him, and immediately

^A struck by the unexpected, for he was slow to learn such things, he fled for refuge to the cross and the ancient remedy, and with this (21) he signed himself against the fears, and made the pursued one his helper. And the things that followed were more terrifying.

LVI. The seal prevailed; the demons yielded; the fears were dispersed. What then? The evil took heart, regained its boldness, and made its assault once more; and the same fears returned, and the seal was invoked again, and the demons kept quiet. The student remained at a loss for counsel, and the initiator, who stood by his side, interpreted the truth sinisterly: "We have been," he said, "an abomination to them, not a terror; what is worse prevails." For he spoke these things, and by speaking persuaded, and having persuaded, he led ^B the student to the pit of destruction. And this should not seem surprising, for the wicked man follows evil more promptly and willingly than he is held back by the good. As to what he said or did, or by what impostures he was deluded, before he was sent back up, let those know who in these mysteries partly initiate others and are partly initiated themselves. But he returned, both possessed in his mind and in his actions, and sufficiently signifying by the furious gaze of his eyes whom he had worshipped; unless, indeed, from that day on which he admitted such nefarious things into his soul, he was filled with demons. But that became more manifest then, so that it would not appear that he had descended in vain, and that he had not become a participant of the demons—that which they call "enthusiasm," changing the names in a refined way. These were his first deeds.

LVII. But when he could no longer contain what he was giving birth to, and the persecution broke out, he began to perceive something ^C worthy of a man who was wise in vice and excellent in impiety; or perhaps he was instructed by those who were sharpening and, as it were, anointing him for it. For he reasoned with himself that if he were to undertake war openly, and profess himself the leader of impiety, besides the fact that this would be too rash and foolish, it would furthermore be entirely contrary to the goal at which he was aiming. For he thought that if force were brought to bear, we would exert ourselves with sharper contention for victory, and would set against the tyranny an opposing zeal for the defense of piety. For it is the habit of noble spirits to be emboldened against what dominates by force, ^D and, like a flame being fanned by the wind, to be kindled the more, the more violently one tries to extinguish it.

And he could have perceived this not only by reasoning but also from the previous persecutions, which had made Christianity more precious rather than weaker, stirring the souls of the faithful toward piety and, like water tempering glowing iron, making them more resilient through these dangers. If he had campaigned with shrewdness and sought to cloak force with persuasion—or, as it were, to wrap the bait of tyranny in the bronze of gentleness—then he might have made the contest both clever and formidable for himself.

^B 58. For, among other things, he even envied these athletes the honor commonly paid to martyrs. And for this reason, he devises a plan to use force himself while appearing not to use it, so that we might suffer punishment indeed, yet be deprived of the honor that is usually accorded to those who suffer for the name of Christ. O singular folly of the man! First, if he thought that the cause for which we encounter danger could remain hidden, and that he would succeed in obscuring the truth with his sophistry, he failed to see that not only would he not hide it, but the more he plotted against those honors, the greater and more glorious he would make them.

^C 59. Secondly, if he presumed that we endure danger out of a desire for glory rather than for the love of truth—let such things be playground for their Empedocles, and Aristæi, and certain Empedotimi, and Trophonii, and all that host of miserable men! Of them, the one who tried to deify himself, as he imagined, in the craters of Sicily and to depart from us to a better realm, was revealed by his favorite sandal being cast out by the fire. He was not shown to be a god after having been a man, but an empty-headed, unphilosophical man—even after death—and devoid of even common sense. As for the others, having buried their own selves in certain secret places out of the same disease of vanity, and then being caught, they gained no more honor from such a fugitive retreat than they suffered disgrace for the fraud discovered.

^D 60. But for Christians, it is more pleasing to suffer for the sake of piety, even if no one is ever to know of it, than it is for others to flourish in impiety and bask in glory. For we care very little about pleasing men, but our whole longing—no, even more than that, for those who are truly philosophical and lovers of God, our very life—is directed toward the honor that comes from God; indeed, we rise even higher than this towards the...

^A treasures laid up for us hereafter. For this is the second rank of those who are praiseworthy: to do something for the sake of a reward and in exchange. Just as the third rank is to avoid wickedness through fear of punishment. Such, then, are our affairs, and in this state they exist; and it is easy for those who wish to demonstrate this through many arguments.

LXI. Here, however, as if he were about to deprive the Christians of some great honor (for most men judge the affairs of others by their own passions), he pursues this glory and the fame of our name before any other. But he does not, with a strenuous and noble spirit as was the custom of other persecutors, profess his impiety by an edict, nor, if not royally, at least tyrannically has he made any clear plan against us: so that his crime might be distinct and honorable, in that he had brought violence upon the people of the world, and had oppressed with tyranny the doctrine that is superior to all doctrines: but he distresses piety in a very base and cowardly manner, and he introduced into the persecution which he stirred up against us the deceits and guiles of a treacherous spirit. Therefore, since the power to rule ^B is divided into two things, persuasion and coercion, he so arranged things that he permitted the more inhumane part—that is, force and tyranny—to the popular mob and the cities, whose insane audacity, on account of their reckless movements of spirit and headlong impulses toward all things, seemed to be unbridled; and this he did not by any public edict, but by not restraining their impulse and audacity, proclaiming his own will as if by some law that was not written.

LXII. But what was milder and more humane, and more becoming to an emperor, this he evidently assumed for himself, namely the role of persuasion and enticement. And yet he did not keep even this throughout. For nature did not allow that a leopard should cast off its spots, ^C or an Ethiopian his blackness, or fire its burning, or the wicked one ^D

^A who was a murderer from the beginning his wickedness, from which he launched himself against us. But just as they say the chameleon easily turns into anything and assumes all colors—saving only white (I omit that fabulous Egyptian sophist Proteus)—so he too became everything to the Christians, save for kindness; and his own kindness was for him profoundly inhuman, and his persuasion was violence, and his goodness was but an apology for his cruelty, so that he might reasonably seem to be using force when he failed to persuade.

^B LXIII. And this is evident from the fact that his use of persuasion was small, while the use of force immediately followed it, so that—just as in hunting—we might be taken either by snares or by persecutions, and in one way or the other fall completely into his power. Having planned and organized this, he proceeded with that second strategy—the only safe one, though utterly godless—which was common to all persecutors: he began his wickedness with those ^B closest to him and within his own circle. For it is not even possible to attempt things against those outside unless these people have been won over, just as one cannot lead an army against enemies while its general is in revolt.

^C LXIV. And it was for this reason that he changed the whole court, having first removed some by death and pushed others aside; not so much because they were well-disposed to the Great Emperor, but because they had greater goodwill toward a greater Emperor, and were thus troublesome to him on both accounts. He also tempted the military, both by himself and through those who held office, whom he judged to be more easily persuaded, because they were partly devoted to honors and partly carried away by simple-mindedness, acknowledging no other law than the prince's will.

^D LXV. Rather, if one must speak more accurately, he drew over a not insignificant part of the military, and as many of them as he found to be sickly and weak—at the time and before—and those who were already slaves to the moment; some of these he had already brought under his power, and others he hoped to bring. For he did not capture everyone, nor did he give so much power against us to the persecutor who was stirred up by him; but there remained more than seven thousand who had not bowed the knee to Baal, nor worshipped the golden image, nor been struck by the serpents.

for they looked upon that serpent which was hung up and destroyed by the sufferings of Christ. Many, indeed, of those in power and in high position—whom it was even less surprising to see yielding and surrendering, both from fear of dangers and from hope of honors—and many also of the common order, known only by number, whom, when he attacked, he was repulsed no differently than a light engine by a very firm wall. But he was of such a mind that he was not so much vexed by those who escaped him, as he was, being driven by fury, overconfident regarding those who were captured; and his own will represented that which had been conceived in hope as if it were already held in his hands.

^B

LXVI. But now he is also emboldened against that great standard, which marches with the cross and leads the army raised on high, possessing the power of relieving labors, hence taking its name among the Latins, and holding, so to speak, the primacy over all the other standards. These are both adorned with the images of emperors and with outstretched textiles in various colors and illustrations of letters, and they seem to exult, just as those that are inflated by the dreadful gaping mouths of dragons and raised upon the tips of spears, and are agitated along their lengths by means of woven, distinct scales—presenting to the eyes a spectacle at once most delightful and horrific. But after he had settled domestic affairs to his own satisfaction, and had warded off that danger which was, as he thought, in his hands, he then set about those matters which follow.

^C

LXVII. O most foolish, most impious, and most ignorant of great matters! Do you [set yourself] against such a lot, and against the Church spread throughout the whole world, which by the lowliness of speech and the foolishness of preaching, as you yourselves might perhaps say, has encompassed all the ends of the earth? Which has conquered the wise, has silenced demons, and has surpassed time; the same being at once both old and new, as you fabulously devise of some one of your gods—that one for the few, this one for the promiscuous multitude; that one by a mere shadowing, this one by the perfection of the mystery reserved for its own times? Do you [set yourself] against the great inheritance of Christ? (Who are you, and how great, and whence?) Against that great [inheritance]—I say—which, even if some should be more frenzied and insane than you, will not [be conquered], but will prevail more and more always.

For I place my faith in the predictions and in what we see; [that inheritance] which God created, and which as man He inherited; which the law shadowed forth, and grace fulfilled, and Christ dedicated; which the prophets built together, and the apostles bound fast, and the evangelists perfected. ^B

LXVIII. Do you set your pollutions against the sacrifice of Christ? Do you set your blood against the blood that cleansed the world? Do you set war against peace? Do you set your hand against that which was transfixed with nails for you and on your behalf? Do you set your taste against the gall? [Do you set yourself] against the trophy of the cross? Against the destruction of death? Against the resurrection, [do you set] an insurrection and rebellion? Against the martyr, [do you set yourself], and not even against the martyrs [themselves]? Are you a persecutor after Herod, and a traitor after Judas? Except that, unlike him, you did not show the sign of a repentant mind by the noose; a Christ-killer after Pilate, and after the Jews an enemy of God?

LXIX. Did you not reverence those who were slaughtered for Christ? Did you not fear those great champions, that John, that Peter, Paul, James, Stephen, Luke, Andrew, Thecla, and those who before them and after them risked their lives for the sake of the truth? ^C They who contended eagerly against fire, and sword, and wild beasts, and tyrants, and against present and threatened evils, as if they were in the bodies of others, or rather as if they were bodiless. And to what end? That they might not betray piety even by a word. These are they for whom great honors and festivals are established; by whom demons are driven out and diseases cured; whose manifestations and whose predictions [we witness]; those whose very bodies avail as much as their holy souls, whether they are touched or honored; whose smallest drops of blood, and slight tokens of their passion, can do as much as their bodies.

LXX. These things you do not reverence, but you dishonor them; you, who admire ^D the pyre of Hercules, [which was] the result of misfortune and injury by women, and [you]—having no [honors] at all.

^A And you admire the butchery concerning women, that hospitable—or rather, God-loving—deed, from which the Pelopidae are distinguished by their shoulders and by the ivory? And the Phrygian excisions, of those who are soothed by the flute and insulted after the piping? ^B And the tortures and "just" or even "mystical" burnings in the rites of Mithras? And the murder of guests among the Tauri, and that sacrifice of the royal maiden at Troy, and the blood of Menoeceus shed on behalf of the Thebans, and later that of the daughters of Scedasus at Leuctra? You, who praise the Spartan youths being lashed with whips, and the blood upon the altar delighting a chaste and virgin goddess? You, who extol the hemlock of Socrates, and the leg of Epictetus, and the wineskin of Anaxarchus—whose philosophy was rather forced and necessary than free and voluntary—and the leap of Cleombrotus the Ambraciote, philosophized upon in the discourse *On the Soul*, and the Pythagorean contention over beans, and the contempt of death by Theano, or I know not whom else among those who were initiated into the Pythagorean mysteries and followed his doctrines.

^A LXXI. But if you do not marvel at those former things of ours, then certainly marvel at the present things, O most wise and most noble man, who look upon those Epaminondases and Scipios with regard to their endurance; who journey on foot with the army, and accept a meager and accessible diet, and praise that method of waging war in which the leader manages everything himself. For it belongs to a noble and philosophical soul not even to despise the virtue of enemies, but to attribute more to the fortitude of enemies than to the sloth and softness of one’s own people, even those who are most intimate. Do you see these men, devoid of the resources of life, and homeless, and almost without flesh and blood, and for this very reason drawing closer to God? These, I say, the "unwashed-footed" and "ground-sleepers," as your Homer says—in order that he might honor some one of the demons with that creation—these men who are on the earth and yet higher than earthly things? These who are among men and yet above human things? Bound and yet free? Overpowered and yet uncontrollable? Of whom nothing is in the world, and yet all things are above the world? Whose life is twofold: the one part despised, the other zealously cultivated and sought after? These, I say, who are immortal through mortification, and joined to God through dissolution? Who are strangers to cupidity, but kindled with a love that is divine and free from mental perturbation? Whose source is light, and whose are already the rays of that light? Whose are the angelic psalms, and the all-night vigil, and the soul’s departure—already snatched up to heaven—toward God? Whose is the purification, and whose is the being purified, since they know no limit to ascent and deification? Whose are the rocks, and whose are the heavens? Whose is the being cast aside, and whose are the thrones? Whose is the nakedness, and whose is the garment of immortality? Whose is the solitude, and whose is the celebration of the other world? Whose are the suppressed and constrained pleasures, and whose is the perpetual delight of souls that exceeds every faculty of speech? Whose tears are a flood for sin, a cleansing for the world? Whose outstretched hands extinguish flames, lull wild beasts to sleep, blunt the edges of swords, put battle-lines to flight, and—believe me—will also suppress your impiety, even if you are exalted for a short time and play out the drama of impiety with your demons?

^{B C} LXXII. How is it that not even these things are fearful to you, O most audacious man, and, if anyone is, one headlong toward death? How do you not revere them? These things are indeed much more precious than the greed of Solon, who was a wise man and a lawgiver, ^D

by the insatiable greed of islands, which Croesus exposed with Lydian gold; and by the ^A Socratic love of youths—for I am ashamed to speak of the love of boys, even if it be craftily cloaked under a more honest name—and by the Sicilian gluttony of Plato, for which he was even sold, and was not redeemed by any of his disciples, nor indeed by any Greek; and by the voracity of Xenocrates; and by the talkativeness of that Diogenes who lived in a tub, by which he made his guests yield their place to the tyrants out of tragedy, [preferring] cheap loaves to honey-cakes; and by the philosophy of Epicurus, which defines no good beyond pleasure. Great among you is Crates, for it is indeed a philosophic thing to have left his lands to be grazed by sheep, [a deed] similar to those philosophers among us. But he parades his freedom with a public proclamation, as if he were someone ^B more studious of glory than of wisdom. Great is he who, when his ship was tossed by a storm and all was being thrown into the sea, returned thanks to Fortune, as if she were leading him back to the straits of a philosopher’s cloak. Great is Antisthenes, who, having been struck across the whole face by some insolent and bold man, merely inscribed the name of his assailant on his forehead, as an artist does on a statue, perhaps that he might accuse him more bitterly. You praise also one of those who lived not long before our time, because he stood the whole day in the sun and prayed; perhaps having watched for it to be closer to the earth, so that he might even finish his prayer by ending it with the setting sun; and [you praise] him who at Potidaea, in the winter season, labored all night through in contemplation, so that

he did not even feel the intensity of the cold on account of the abstraction of his mind. Moreover, you praise the love of learning in Homer regarding the Arcadic question, and in Aristotle the philosophy and long delay regarding the shifting tides of the Euripus, by which both met their death; and the well of Cleanthes, and the strap of Anaxagoras, and the gloom of Heraclitus. ^C

LXXIII. But how many are there, and for how long, who have excelled in these virtues? Do you not marvel at and admire the thousands and tens of thousands among us, who philosophize on these things and on others yet more wondrous than these throughout their whole life and in every part, so to speak, of the inhabited world—men and women alike, emulating one another in courage, and at this point alone forgetting their nature, where God must be reconciled through purity and endurance; not only those who are obscure and ignoble, and accustomed to labor by reason of their initial poverty, but even those who were formerly very exalted and brilliant, in wealth, in birth, and in power, innovationally choosing hardship for the sake of the imitation of Christ? Even if their discourse is not present (for piety is not even placed in discourse, and the fruit of wisdom from the mouth is small, as also seemed to one of your own poets), still the reasonableness is greater, and the instruction in their actions. ^D

LXXIV. But nevertheless, having overlooked all these things, and looking only to this one thing—how he might find favor with the demons by whom, as was fitting, he had often been cast down—before he had established anything else of public concern, he turns against the Christians. And these two things were what he was busy with [...]

the Galileans, as he himself ^A used to call us in mockery, and the Persians, who were holding out stoutly in the war; yet he considered the war against the Persians a matter of such small concern and such child’s play—to such a degree did he attend to our destruction with greater care and fervor of spirit—that he deemed it a trifle. And although he did not openly declare this, he did not hide it either. So great was the abundance of his madness that he never ceased confessing it to everyone. And this the man who was considered the most sagacious of all and the best administrator of the commonwealth did not perceive: that in the former persecutions there was little confusion and disturbance, because our doctrine had not yet spread to many, but the truth still resided in a few and lacked its full splendor; but now, when the saving word had already been poured forth ^B and had become dominant among us, to attempt to change and stir up the Christian faith was nothing other than to shake the Roman Empire, to put the whole commonwealth in danger, and—a thing that not even our enemies could have prayed for more harmfully against us—to suffer these things at our own hands, and to fall away from this new and admirable philosophy and rule, by which we are blessed, and through which we have returned to that golden age and mode of governing the commonwealth—that age, I say, which was entirely free of sedition and strife.

LXXV. For was it to be that a tolerable administration of the public post, and the relaxation of taxes, and the selection of magistrates, and the punishment of thefts, and all other such things—which pertain to short-lived and momentary ^C happiness and display—would bring some great benefit to the commonwealth, and that our ears ought to be dinned with praises of these things? But as for the strife and discord of peoples and cities, and the splitting of families, the division of households, and the breaking up of marriages—all things which it was likely would follow from that evil, and which indeed did follow—did these things bring him some signal glory, or the state some security? Who is so prone to impiety, or so bereft of common sense, as to agree to this? For just as in bodies, when one or two ^D members are ailing,

the remaining parts recover without great difficulty, and the benefit of health is preserved for the greater portion, by whose aid the diseased parts sometimes return to a better state; but when most members are at variance with one another and are gravely distressed, it is impossible for the whole body not to fall ill and be in clear danger—so too with those who are under imperial rule: it happens that the diseases of individuals are hidden by the more convenient health of the state; yet when many are ulcerated and affected by disease, the whole state is now in danger. In my judgment, any other man, even one most hostile and bitter toward us, would have noticed this, especially at this time, and given so great an expansion and increase of Christians. But the wickedness of this man has cast darkness over his reason and judgment; and for this cause, he devises persecution for small and great alike. ^B

76. And that, indeed, is very youthful and trivial...

LXXVII. Nos vero nomina ipsis haudquaquam invertemus...

^A folly, and let them take pride in the most shameful things. But if they wish, we will also pass over their Buthoenas ^B and Triesperus, that we may win even greater favor with them by honoring one who is born in such a way, and begets so magnificently, and who made it his thirteenth labor, in a single night, to embrace the fifty daughters of Thestius, so that for these deeds he might be named a god! For if we cared to innovate with such names, many ^C names from his own life, both more shameful and more appropriate, would be available to Christians against him. For what would prevent us from also playing the same game against the Emperor—the Roman Emperor who, as he himself thought, was Emperor of the whole world, but who was actually deceived by demons—by calling him Idolianus, and Pisæus, and Adonæus, and Tauricremus, as some of our witty and festive men have already called him? Since the ease of doing this is remarkable, how many other names might we bend or forge, which history truly offers us to cast against him?

LXXVIII. But this is the most absurd thing of all: that when the Savior himself, and Lord of all, and Creator and Governor of this universe, he who is the Son of the great Father, and Word, and ^D Conciliator, and High Priest, and sharer of the throne—he who for our sake, who had dishonored his image and been cast down to the dust, and reduced to such a state that we were ignorant of the great mystery of this union, not only descended to the form of a servant but even ascended the cross, and took my sin with him that it might perish there; when this one, I say, heard the Jews call him a Samaritan, and what is much more wicked, accuse him of being possessed by a demon, he neither blushed nor complained against his revilers—and this even though it was within his power to punish the wicked men through an army of angels or by a single word; but he sent the insulting men away quite gently and calmly, and shed tears for the salvation of those by whom he was being led to the cross—when these things, I say, are so, is it not the height of absurdity to think that the name of "Galileans" will be either a cause of grief or shame for us, or that we would be deterred on this account from our zealous pursuit of virtue?

^A I would even say, we might rather ask whether they will have greater regard for these insults than for all the wrongs done to our souls and bodies, things which we have been accustomed to treat with contempt and count as nothing for the sake of the defense of the truth. But as for this, as I have said, it is more ridiculous than serious or troublesome, and we consign it to the stage and the theaters. For we could certainly never be superior to those who easily play and are played with in such matters upon the stage.

^B LXXIX. But now, that indeed very base and malicious thing, that when he could not openly persuade us, nor, for very shame, had the endurance to compel us tyrannically, he cloaked the fox’s skin with the lion’s, or, if you prefer, set the mask of Minos over his most unjust conduct (in what words could I properly express this?), and applied force with a show of gentleness. I shall leave other matters for those who desire to record and write of them, as my discourse is hastening on; although I think many will be eager to compose either the tragedy or the comedy of that time, to whom it will seem a part of piety to attack that impious and sacrilegious man in speech, so that a matter so great, and so far from deserving to lie in obscurity, may be transmitted to those who come after. I, however, will set forth one or two examples for all, for the sake of those who so greatly admire his life, so that they may understand themselves to be praising a man for whom no sufficiently worthy vituperation can be devised.

^C LXXX. It is a royal custom—I know not whether it be among all other men who are subject to imperial rule, but at least among the Romans it is most studiously observed—that emperors should be honored with public statues. For neither crowns and diadems, nor the shimmer of purple, nor numerous bodyguards, nor the multitude of subjects are sufficient to establish their empire for them; but adoration must also be added, by which they may appear more august: not only that which is offered to them in person, but also that which is paid to their images and paintings, so that the reverence paid to them may be more insatiable and more complete. Furthermore, some emperors rejoice to have other things added to these images: some, the most illustrious cities offering gifts; some, victories crowning their heads; some, magistrates adoring them, and adorned with the tokens of their dignities; ^D others, the slaughter of wild beasts and skillful javelin-throwing; others, the slaughter of barbarians, and under their...

^A feet, those who had been cast down or slain—various and manifold figures. For they love not only the truth of the things about which they have high opinions, but also their images.

LXXXI. But what does this man devise? And what snare does he set for the more steadfast of the Christians? Just as those who mix poisons with food, so he determined to mix impiety with the customary honors of emperors, and to fuse together the laws of the Romans and the worship of idols. Therefore, when he had added demons—like other customary paintings—to the images, he then set those images before the peoples and the cities, and especially before the governors of the provinces, so that in no way possible could the evil be avoided: but either the honor of the demons might be joined with the honor of the emperors, or, by avoiding them, the emperors might be insulted by that mingled worship.

Few of the more pious and sagacious escaped this fraud and this snare of impiety, so craftily devised, and even they paid the penalty for their sagacity: under the specific pretext that they had sinned against the honor of the emperor, but in reality [they were] brought into danger for the sake of the true Emperor and for piety. But very many of the simpler and more unskilled were caught; to whom, perhaps, some pardon might be granted on account of their ignorance, insofar as they were carried away into impiety by art and fraud. And this is indeed such a thing that it is abundantly sufficient, of itself alone, to brand the intent and the disposition of such an emperor for perpetual infamy. For I do not think that the same things befit princes and private individuals, since they are not of the same dignity. For we might perhaps grant that a private man may act craftily; for if a man cannot use force openly, he deserves some pardon if he acts in a sly and crafty manner. But for an emperor, when it is base enough to be overcome by force and power, it is much baser, in my opinion, and more unbecoming, to conceal his attempts and his intent by artifice.

LXXXII. I will now add another point to the foregoing; ^B one which, while it is of the same mind and intent, is far more atrocious in magnitude and more impious, inasmuch as the evil permeates a greater number. The day of the imperial donative had arrived—whether it was the anniversary, or one established for the occasion by the emperor out of his own wickedness and craft—and the military orders had to be present, in order that everyone might receive a donative according to his rank and dignity. Again the scene of illiberality; again the tale of impiety. For he strives to spice his cruelty with a certain kindness, and to bait the foolishness of the soldiers with money, along with greed, with which the...

life of mortals is in great part filled. He therefore presided in splendor, celebrating the feast day in a splendid manner against piety, and being greatly elated in his mind by his machinations. You might suspect him to be some Melampus or Proteus: so much did he turn himself into all things, and so easily did he change himself into diverse forms. But what things were these that happened to him, which are worthy of lamentations and complaints, not only for those who were present then in the eyes of the discerning, but also for those who now hear of that spectacle?

^B

83. Gold was proposed.

^D

LXXXIV. Hic narrationem quamdam admiscebo.

^A one who has suffered no grievous harm might do, and with the sign of the cross raised their eyes on high and called upon Christ. When one of their messmates marveled at this and asked, "What is this? Do you call upon Christ after your abjuration?" they were stunned by these words and said, "By what means have we abjured? And what is this strange talk?" He replied, "Because you offered incense to the fire: which is the same," he taught, "as denying Christ." Then, without a moment's delay, they sprang up from the banquet like men possessed and beside themselves, burning with zeal and indignation, and ran through the marketplace, shouting and saying: "We are Christians, we are Christians in our hearts; let every mortal hear, and before all, God, to whom we both live and shall die. We have not lied to you, Savior Christ; we have not abjured the blessed confession. If the hand has sinned, yet the mind has not followed. We have been ^B outwitted by the Emperor's deceit; we have not been wounded by gold. We put off the impiety; now we are cleansed by our blood." Afterward, they ran quickly to the Emperor and, casting the gold from them with very bold spirits, shouted in this manner: "We have not received gifts, Emperor, but have been condemned to death. We were not called for the sake of honor, but branded with ignominy. Grant this favor to your soldiers; sacrifice us to Christ, to whose empire alone we are subject. Requite fire with fire; for that ash, reduce us to ash. Cut off the hands which we wickedly stretched forth, and the feet with which we wickedly ran. Honor others with gold, those who shall not repent of having received it; for us, Christ is sufficient, whom we have instead of all." When they had spoken this prayer, and at the same time encouraged others to perceive the deception, to sober up from their drunkenness, to wake ^C up, and to make satisfaction to Christ with their own blood; then the Emperor, incensed with anger, avoided openly putting them to death, so as not to make them martyrs—as, regarding them, they were—but by consigning them to exile, he thus took his revenge and bestowed upon them the greatest benefit, that of standing far away from his own pollutions ^D and craftiness.

Note on columns 611-612

^A [LXXXV] But although he was of such a temperament, and employed his malice and craftiness to many ends, yet, because his mind had no fixity, and was moved more by the impulse of the demon than by his own reasonings, he did not maintain his purpose to the end, nor keep the secret of his wickedness. ^B But just as the Etnaean fire is said to be hidden in the roots of Etna, overflowing from below and held back by force—whether it be some other such thing, or the panting breath of a giant undergoing punishment—at first indeed emitting a fearsome sound, and belching forth smoke from its summit as a sign of the approaching evil; but if by chance it should become more abundant and exuberant, and too rapid to be contained, then truly, being driven out by the violent heat from its recesses and tending upwards, it pours itself out over its vents and devastates some of the adjacent parts of the earth with that incredible and horrible flood: in the same way one might find that he, too, while for a time holding himself and his sophisticated theory in check, and harming our affairs through fraud, yet whenever the impotence of his anger became too redundant, could no longer suppress or disguise his inward perversity, but began to wage open and naked persecution against our pious and divine company.

^C [LXXXVI] For, to pass over the edicts that were published against the holy houses—both those posted publicly and those carried out privately—and the plundering of votive offerings and money, which sprang not more from impiety than from greed; and the seizure of sacred vessels, which were handled insolently and contumeliously by profane hands; and the priests and the subject populace who were dragged away because of these things and tortured in the most bitter ways, and the columns smeared with blood, encircled and girded by the hands of those who were being scourged with whips; and those roaming archers throughout the cities and countrysides, more savage and more hot-headed than the one who ordered these things, as if they were subjugating us to his authority and empire in place of Persians and Scythians and other barbarians; to pass over, I say, all these things, ^D whose knowledge of the temper of the Alexandrians is so small? They, in addition to many other things which they insolently perpetrated against us, abusing the occasion without measure—being a people naturally seditious and manic—are said to have added even this to their impieties: that they filled our holy house with a double amount of blood, both that of the sacrifices and that of men.

And they accomplished these things under the leadership and auspices of one of the imperial philosophers, receiving fame for these things alone. ^A Who is ignorant of the conspiracy of the Heliopolitans? Who is ignorant of the madness of the Gazaeans, those who were admired and honored by him because they truly perceived his magnificence? Who is ignorant of the fury of the Arethusians, who, though formerly obscure and ignoble, from that time became most well-known and celebrated? For it is not only an excellent deed that brings fame, but also wickedness, which surpasses the renown of evil men.

LXXXVII. For they—to mention one example out of many, which is enough to strike horror even into the hearts of the ungodly—brought out into the midst, and stripped of their garments, virgins who were chaste and transcendent, such as had scarcely ever come into the sight of men, in order to first insult them with the very sight of it, and then to rend and dissect them—O Christ, how can I endure your patience of that time!—and it is said that some they consumed, having mangled them with their own teeth, and, as befitted their execrable fury, gorged themselves on their raw livers; and, once they had finished that food, they admitted to the common and customary fare: others, having sprinkled swine's fodder over their still-palpitating bowels and set the fiercest of pigs upon them, presented this spectacle, so that they might see the flesh being eaten and torn apart along with the barley—a mixed food, which was then seen and heard for the first time; and the architect of these crimes was worthy only to nourish his own demons with that, just as, as was fitting, he also nourished them with that blood and with the wound which he received in his heart; even if the wretches are devoid of perception regarding such things, and, by reason of their impiety, are not even in possession of their own minds.

LXXXVIII. And now, concerning that of the admirable ^B Marcus, and— ^{C D}

^A who among us is so far removed from our world as to be unaware of him, or to be overtaken in his telling by another who recounts the story? This man, during the reign of the illustrious Constantius, when the authority granted at that time to the Christians allowed it, destroyed a certain dwelling-place of demons and brought many Christians over from the error of the Greeks unto salvation—not less by the splendor of his life than by the power of his words. For this, he had long been an object of wrath to the Arethusians, or rather to those among the Arethusians who were lovers and worshippers of demons. ^B But once the state of affairs for the Christians changed, and the things of the Greeks began to seethe, he did not escape the power of the moment. For the masses, even if for a time they restrain their impulses and desires—just like fire lying dormant in wood or a river held back by force—are accustomed, should they find the opportunity, to ignite and burst forth. Seeing therefore the movement of the people against him, and that they were neither conceiving nor threatening anything moderate, he at first planned to flee; not so much out of cowardice, but because of the commandment that bids us to flee from city to city, and to withdraw before those who persecute us. For it is right that Christians, even if they be exceeding brave and perseverant, should not look only to their own concerns, but also spare those who persecute them, so that, in so far as it lies within them, they do not contribute anything to the danger and condemnation of their enemies. ^C But after he perceived that many were being dragged and led away on his account, and that many others were in danger of their lives because of the cruelty of the persecutors, he could no longer endure to overlook the others facing danger while he himself remained in safety. And for this reason, he devised a plan which was most excellent and most philosophical: he returned from his flight and, freely offering himself to the people, surrendered to them to do with him as they willed, and he set himself in array against the difficulty of the times. What form of cruelty was missing there? What was not contrived, even more atrocious? For they were all bringing, one after another, their contribution to a single conspiracy of evil, not even respecting the philosophical nature of the man, if nothing else, of the calamities before them. And for this reason they were all the more enraged, as they regarded his presence not as bravery in the face of dangers, but rather as a display of contempt for them.

^B 89. A certain aged priest—a voluntary athlete—was led through the middle of the city, a man venerable in age, and still more venerable in his way of life, held in reverence by all save his persecutors and executioners. He was led by all, of any age, condition, or fortune—all pressing in equally: men, women, the young, the old, those who managed public affairs, and those endowed with honors and dignities. For there was one contest proposed to all: to surpass one another in the cruelty of their rage against the old man. Each thought it a part of piety to inflict as many evils upon him as possible, and to overcome the aged champion who was struggling against the entire city. He was dragged through the squares and shoved into the sewers; he was pulled by his hair and by every other part of his body—contumely being mixed with his torment—by those who, in the rites of Mithras, are themselves justly punished with similar torments. He was tossed back and forth by boys like a pendulum, who received that noble body with styli and considered this tragedy to be a game. The calves of his legs were compressed by machines down to the very bones; his ears were severed with linen threads, and indeed with the thinnest and strongest ones. Meanwhile, he was hoisted aloft in a basket, drenched everywhere with honey and garum, and stung by bees and hornets in the midday heat, while the sun was shining most intensely. For the sun was melting his flesh, while it made the meal of those blessed—I certainly will not call them miserable—wrecks of flesh all the more sharp for them. At this point, indeed—for this is also worthy of being committed to writing—they say that this old man, who was a youth in the face of contests (for he did not abandon his cheerfulness of spirit even in his torments, but rather derived pleasure from the very tortures), uttered that celebrated and memorable saying: namely, that that sign pleased him, because he saw himself aloft, while they were cast down and lying on the ground. To such an extent was he superior to those by whom he was held, and so far was he from the things that cause pain, that he seemed as if he were a bystander watching another in danger, and as if he were taking the matter as a procession, and not as a calamity to himself.

^A And yet, who with even a moderate amount of civility and humanity would not have respected or been moved by the old man's steadfastness? But the circumstances, and the impulse of the emperor, which demanded cruelty from the people, cities, and governors—even if it did not seem so to the majority of those who were ignorant of the depth of his malice—did not allow them to be lenient. This the firm and steadfast old man endured. And if you ask for the reason, it is this: so that he would not throw a single gold coin to the torturers. From this it can be clearly understood that he endured these torments for the sake of piety. For as long as the people of Arethusa had made an exorbitant estimation of the temple and were demanding the entire sum of gold, or were commanding him to rebuild the temple himself, his resistance could have appeared to be based on the impossibility of the command rather than the piety of his soul. But when, by his endurance, he gradually overcame them and was always subtracting something from the estimation, he finally brought the matter to such a point that what was demanded was very small, and something he could most easily pay. Then an equal contest took place between them: for them, to win by taking even a tiny amount, and for him, not to be defeated by paying even a small sum. Although there were many who were willing to contribute more, not only out of piety but also because of the man’s invincibility and impassivity, it was then clearly shown ^B that his struggle was not about money, but about piety.

91.

one old man have we been able to overcome, even though we have raged against him with every kind of torment?" And is it not a sign of extreme misery to have been defeated by one whom to conquer would be no great or honorable feat? Thus, as it appears, the prefects were ashamed of these same things, while the emperors took pride in them. What could be more wretched than this, not so much for those who suffered, as for those who inflicted these things? The deed of the Arethusians was such, and in such a state, that the cruelty of Echetus and Phalaris is small when compared to their savagery and inhumanity—or rather the cruelty of him by whose authority and incitement these things were committed; for the sprouts are of the seed, and the shipwrecks are of the wind.

^C XCII. What other things, I ask, and how grave they are! Who will provide me with the leisure and tongue of Herodotus or Thucydides, so that I might hand down this man’s wickedness to future time, and record the history of this period as if inscribed upon a column for those to come? I will hold my tongue regarding Orontes and the nocturnal corpses, which this man used to hide alongside the emperor, being crowded by heaps of dead bodies and bringing about death in secret. For here it would be more fitting to use the words of the poet. I will also pass over the hollow and most remote parts of the palace, which were teeming in pits, wells, and trenches with evil treasures and mysteries; not only of boys and maidens cut open for the conjuring of spirits, for divination, and for ^D illicit sacrifices, but also of those who were in danger for the sake of piety. Let us pass over these, if it seems good, as even he was ashamed of them, he—

*If this man here defeat thee, and prove the better,* *I shall send thee to Epirus, casting thee into a black ship,* *To King Echetus, the destroyer of all mortals,* *Who shall shear off thy nose and ears with pitiless bronze.*

*If the son of Cronus has granted to thee to destroy all the Trojans,* *Driving them from me, to perform grim deeds across the plain.* *For my own lovely streams are filled with the dead,* *Nor can I any longer pour my flow into the divine sea,* *Being constricted by the dead; but thou slayest in secret.* *But come now and desist; awe possesses me, O Achilles.*

^A This he did with some moderation, yet it is evident that he attempted to hide it, considering it unseemly that such an atrocity should be published abroad; for though the outrage against our people of Caesarea, men of great spirit and fervent in piety, thus brought low and insulted by him, perhaps deserves no reproach—he seemed, in just indignation at the fortune which had suffered misfortune in a time of prosperity, to have arrived at this retribution; since some allowance must be made for power when it dominates unjustly.

^B

XCIII.

XCIV.

Nor the Patarean Chimaera, ^A because it offered three and different ones, so that it might be more fearful; nor the Cerberus in Hades, because it had so many and similar ones; nor that sea-scourge, Scylla, because it had six in a circle and most repulsive ones. And yet they say that her upper parts were pleasant and human, and not unpleasing to behold—for she was a maiden and had some affinity with us—but that the heads which grew from her, dog-like and beast-like, were of no good, snatching up entire fleets and differing in nothing, as far as danger is concerned, from the opposing Charybdis. ^B Or would you also blame the arrows and stones of the archers and slingers, but not the slingers and archers themselves? Or the dogs of the hunters, the poisons of the sorcerers, and the horns and claws of the butting cattle and tearing beasts—while those who use them are placed beyond blame and are not to be participants in the guilt of those things which they have committed? These would truly be proofs of great stupidity, and the work, without doubt, of a sophist who undertakes to defend his own vices and cover the truth with the powers of eloquence. But there is no way he can hide himself, not even if he turns himself every which way, and through his craftiness changes into every shape, and puts on the "helmet of Hades," as the saying goes, or steals himself away with the ring of Gyges and the turning of the bezel. On the contrary, the more he tries to slip away and escape, the more he is caught and convicted before the tribunal of truth ^C and before the most prudent judges of these matters, since he is the one doing and committing these things which not even he himself could argue were done justly. So easy a thing to overcome is wickedness, and from every side it fights against itself.

95.

^A moving away, they were much more inhuman and cruel. For just as when a dragon begins to stir, its scales part of them already bristle, part of them bristle more, part are soon to bristle, and part, even if they chance to be quiet for the moment, cannot but eventually be moved—or, if you prefer, like lightning, some parts are already occupied, while others are first stained with blackness until the evil also pervades them—so too were other things being enacted by him iniquitously and wickedly, while others were merely shadowed forth by the hopes and threats he aimed at us; and these things were so absurd and foreign to established custom that it could occur to his mind alone to devise them and to wish to carry them into act, although there had been many persecutors and enemies of the Christians before him.

^B For what neither Diocletian, who first infested the Christians, nor Maximian, who succeeded him and surpassed him, nor Maximin—who, as he was later in time, was also superior in the atrocity of the persecution (the tokens of which, the wounds once received for this cause, are still borne by statues publicly displayed, marking with eternal infamy those foul mutilations of the body)—ever thought of, these things he indeed meditated, as those who were his confidants and witnesses tell us; but he was restrained and held back by the kindness of God and by the tears of the Christians, which many shed in great abundance, having this as their only medicine against the persecutor. For he determined to deprive the Christians of all liberty and confidence, and to exclude them from all assemblies, ^C markets, public gatherings, and even their courts of law. For it was not to be allowed for anyone to use these things unless he had first burned incense before the altars placed in front, and had paid such a price for so small a matter. O laws, and lawgivers, and kings! Who, just as the beauty of the heavens, and the light of the sun, and the diffusion of the air lie open to all as a common and abundant beneficence, so too have set forth the participation in the laws to all free men, equal and of the same honor; yet he intended to deprive the Christians of this, so that those oppressed by violence might neither be permitted to obtain justice, nor might those suffering loss of property, or any other injury, small or great, be permitted to seek aid from the laws—but ^D instead that they should be outcasts, and put to death, and almost...

denied even the breath of life. These things, as they brought greater glory and confidence before God to those who suffered, so they brought greater iniquity and infamy upon those who perpetrated them.

^B XCVII. Furthermore, how clever and acute is the reasoning of that executioner and patron, that transgressor of laws and legislator, or, to speak more aptly, that enemy and avenger, as our discourse puts it! For our law ordains that we should not avenge an injury received, nor go to law, nor possess anything at all, nor call anything our own; but that we should live elsewhere, and count present things as empty and vain, and hold them for nothing. It is not permitted to anyone to return evil for evil, nor, if someone should strike one cheek, to spare the other, but even to offer it to the striker, and over and above the cloak, to yield up the tunic as well. He will perhaps add that it also prescribes that we should even pray for those from whom we receive injury, and wish every good thing for those who persecute us. And why should he not have known these things accurately, who was once a reader of the divine oracles, and had been exalted and honored with the dignity of the great sanctuary, and who used to honor the martyrs with shrines and temples?

^C XCVIII. I marvel at this first of all: how it is that, while he was diligently and accurately conversant with these books, he did not read that, or else deliberately passed it over: *The wicked shall miserably perish*. That is, whosoever has abjured the divine Power, and what is more grave, harasses those who persist in His confession, and casts them into such calamities as he himself deserved to fall into. Indeed, if, just as he prescribes to us that we should be such as these, and abide by the established laws, he can also demonstrate that it is commanded and enjoined upon him to be most wicked, or that this seems honest and noble to his gods—and since habits are divided into virtue and vice, that the better part has been assigned and attributed to us, while the worse has been cast upon them: let him say this, and thus we shall win the cause, with our very enemies, those who persecute our affairs, as witnesses. But if they themselves also claim for themselves some measure of probity and lenity, if not in deeds, at least in word; and if they are not so shameless, even though they be very wicked ^D and delight in wicked gods, that they would assert that wickedness belongs to them as a kind of lot—for...

^A show me how, or where, it is just that we, even when suffering, should endure it with patience, while they—who do not even spare those who show them mercy—should be spared? For consider it thus: since there have not been wanting times when we have flourished in power, while to you, in the turns of time, these things have come and shifted in various ways, what like this have your followers ever suffered at the hands of Christians, such as Christians have often suffered at yours? Of what freedom have we deprived you? Against whom have we stirred up raging mobs? Against whom have our prefects acted, carrying out even more than they were commanded? To whom have we brought danger concerning their lives? Or rather, whom have we removed from public offices and other honors which are due to the most excellent men? And, to sum it up, upon whom have we inflicted anything similar to those many things which have been in part carried out by you, and in part threatened? But not even you would say this, you who are accustomed to make a charge against us of our gentleness and humanity.

^B

XCIX.

C. But I must again direct my speech to those...

things, and I must endeavor to plead for them to the utmost of my power; for although there are many grave charges for which he justly deserves to be hated, there is nothing in which he appears to have acted more lawlessly than in this. And let everyone who delights in words and the studies of doctrine, and who is devoted to this pursuit—a number to which I do not deny that I also belong—be indignant with me. For I have left all other things to those who desire them: wealth, nobility of birth, glory, power, and the rest that belongs to this earthly display and to vain, dream-like pleasure. But I embrace words alone, and I do not complain of the toils borne on land or sea which have secured them for me. And would that strength of words might be with me and my friends; for this is what I have embraced, and still embrace, next to the thing which is first—that is, next to divine things and to hopes remote from the senses of the eyes. Wherefore, if, as Pindar says, “his own burden presses upon everyone,” then it is truly necessary for me to hold discourse concerning these matters; and it is above all just, as I know not if any other thing is, to render thanks to words with the discourse which has been instituted for the sake of words.

^A CI. Whence, therefore, did this come into your mind, O most light and insatiable of all men, that you should deprive Christians of their words? For this was of the number of those things which were not set down in threats, but were already decreed and sanctioned by law. Whence, and for what cause? What logical Mercury, as you yourself would say, put this into your mind? What evil Telchines and envious demons? If you please, we shall also provide the cause of this thing. For it was fitting that, since you were attempting many impious crimes, you should finally be driven to this, and should clearly run into your own self, so that in the very thing in which you thought you had the greatest reason to boast, you should imprudently play the fool the most, and should incur the mark of brute stupidity. Answer me, then: What does this decree of yours mean? And what reason moved you to think that there should be some innovation concerning words? For if you appear to bring forward anything just, we shall indeed be grieved, but we shall by no means reproach you. For, just as we have learned to conquer with reason, so we have also learned to be honorably and ^B laudably conquered.

CII. They are ours, he says, and ours is the Hel^Dlenic…

way of venerating the gods; but yours is stupidity and rustic ignorance; and your wisdom consists in nothing above the command "Believe." Yet, I suppose, those among you who follow the philosophy of Pythagoras would not mock this; for them, the saying "He himself said it" is the first and greatest of all doctrines—which they hold to be more choice than the Golden Verses, or rather, the Lead ones. For after that first and (to those initiated into his philosophy) most celebrated philosophy of silence, that they might learn the measures of speech by practicing silence, it was the custom and rule, they say, that whenever they were questioned on any of the doctrines and a reason was requested, they should answer nothing else but that it had been so decided by Pythagoras; and the "reason" for the doctrine was just that it had occurred to him, exempt and free from any examination or scrutiny. And so, "He himself said it" comes to the same thing as our "Believe," even if you never cease to mock and disparage it with your syllables and words. ^C For our argument desires that it not be permitted for us to distrust what has been said by God-bearing men, but that the trustworthiness of those men should be the proof of the word, being stronger than any power of logic or counter-argument.

CIII. But even let this be open to the insults of our detractors; how, then, will you demonstrate that the words belong to you? And if they are yours, how, according to your own legislation and senselessness, is it not permitted for us to share in them? For whose are the words by which men "Hellenize," and in what sense is "Hellenizing" spoken and understood? For I wish—since you are a captious quibbler over ambiguous terms—to define for you the force of the name, and the things that are signified by it: whether they are different things under one designation, or the same things under different designations, ^D or different things under different ones. For you will say that this belongs either to the religion, or clearly to the race and to those who first discovered the power of the language. If, then, to the religion, show where and among which of the priests "Hellenizing" is lawful, just as sacrificing is also [lawful], and in what places, even in theaters and comedies.

^A For it is not the case that the same things apply to all, nor all things to one, nor in the same way, as seems proper to the Hierophants 20 among you, and to those who are experts in the theory of sacrifices. For where, as is the case for the Lindians, is it considered pious to curse the Buthoenas 21, and for this to be an honor to the god—to heap insults upon him? Or, as with the Taurians, to murder strangers; or, with the Lacedaemonians, to be flogged with rods at the altar of Diana; or, with the Phrygians, to be castrated while charmed by the music of pipes, and to be unmanned by dancing; or, among others, to practice pederasty, or among others, to engage in prostitution, or—lest I recount each individually—all the other things usually performed in the various mysteries; is it thus specifically and exclusively the property of one of the gods or demons to "Hellenize"? And yet, even if this were the case 25, it is not yet clear that it was something "Hellenic," or that it was set apart as the common property of any one of the gods or demons among you, just as many other things have been decreed as common matters for sacrifice. ^B

CIV. But if you will not say this, but rather claim this language as your own, and for that reason remove us far from it, as if from a paternal inheritance, and as if it had nothing to do with us, first of all I do not see by what reasoning you could do this, or how you could refer this to the demons. For it does not follow that, if it so happens that the same people are both "Hellenizing" in language and also in religion, that for that reason the discourses of that religion are also [ours], and that on that account we should be justly expelled from it. For they do not even agree that such a conclusion can be drawn—those among you who have written on the art of dialectic. For it is not the case that if two people are occupied with the same thing, both are therefore the same thing; for by the same reasoning, if we were to imagine the same person to be both a goldsmith and a painter, the melting of gold would not result in painting, nor painting in the melting of gold, such that they would encompass one another: for these things are surely too frivolous and absurd.

CV. ^C Furthermore 31, I will ask you, my friend of the Hellenes and lover of letters, whether you will keep us away from all "Hellenizing," for example, from even those common and pedestrian words, and those in the usage of the multitude, or only from the more elegant and sublime ones, which no one, unless endowed with excellent learning, could aspire to 32? For if [you mean] from this latter kind of "Hellenizing," what is the basis for the partition—that one thing [is] the terrible 34

[words like] "clanging," "I ween," "methinks," "hither," and "somehow," belong to the dialect alone, while the rest are to be cast away into the Cynosarges, as ^A bastard children were of old? But if the meanness and lack of ornament of the speech belong equally to "Hellenizing," why do you not deprive us of these as well, and, in a word, of the entire Greek language, whatever it may be and however it may happen to exist? This would have been more humane on your part, and would have completely avoided your own barbarism.

CVI. For it is as follows—if I may philosophize on these matters for you more loftily and perfectly:

CVII. Is "Hellenizing" your own? Tell me, what of it? Is not the alphabet from the Phoenicians? Or, as some say, from the Egyptians? Or ^C from the Hebrews, who are even wiser than these, who [received] the law inscribed on tablets by the very hand of God?

Is speaking Attic yours? Is using pebbles and counting and calculating with your fingers, and measures and weights, and even before these, military training and warfare, whose are they? Are they not the Euboeans'? If, that is, the inventor of many things, Palamedes, was—as he was—a Euboean, and because of this was envied, and even summoned to judgment for his wisdom, and put to death by those who had undertaken the expedition against Ilium? What then? If the Egyptians, and the Phoenicians, and the Hebrews, whom we use for our own education, or if those who inhabit the island of Euboea ^A should claim these things as their own, according to your principles, what shall we do? Or what plea can we make to them, held fast and bound by our own laws? Will it not be necessary for us to be completely deprived of these things? And will not the same thing happen to us as to the jackal—that is to say, that once the borrowed feathers are stripped from us, we shall be naked and shameful?

CVIII

CIX

^A that is, to be initiated and to initiate, and to worship gods, whence did this flow to you? Does not the name itself show it to be from the Thracians? Is sacrificing not from the Chaldeans, or from the Cypriots? Is astronomy not a Babylonian invention? Is geometry not from the Egyptians? Is magic not from the Persians? And the divination that occurs in dreams, from whom do you hear it comes, if not from the Telmessians? And the art of augury from whom, if not from the Phrygians, who were the first to observe most curiously the flight and motions of birds? And, not to be long-winded, whence do you have each individual thing? Is it not one thing from each? And when all these have come together into one, has there not been formed a single mystery of superstition? What then? Shall we accept that, once all things have returned to their first discoverers, we possess nothing of our own except vice, and this innovation regarding the Divine? For ^B you were the first of the Christians to devise a rebellion against the Master, just as, they say, slaves once did against the Scythians. Yet it would have been worth much if this wicked organization had been dissolved by you, according to your own terms and laws, so that we might have been free from such matters, and it might have been granted to see the Roman Empire return to the ancient ^C prosperity, being free from all civil strife; for this is far more to be avoided and more to be feared than war from without, in as much as it is more horrible to consume one's own flesh than that of strangers. ^D CX. But if these things seem to you to be a matter of wickedness, and you established that it would be wiped out and destroyed, so that, having been freed from all affairs, you might live a joyful and blessed life, as when paganism flourished of old, and not one agitated by any dissensions due to the contrary religion of the Christians, etc. Let us be permitted to bring forward a fourth interpretation. Primarily, indeed, we think these words: "for you were the first of the Christians," etc., are an interpretation of the preceding expression, which surely no one would deny. Then, with this interpretation, as if closed in a parenthesis, and having been recalled to the limits of his own discourse in its comparison, the orator proceeds. For what he just now called "one mystery of superstition," he now calls a "wicked agmen" [army/procession], and that body and structure of Greek superstitions is to be dissolved, either by Julian himself or by the laws of Julian himself, if indeed he had restored each thing to its own authors and inventors, or if they themselves had reclaimed them by their own right, just as Julian reclaimed the Greek language for himself. By which Gregory shows how insipid and inconsistent was Julian's mind and reasoning. Nor can the meaning of this passage any longer be ambiguous, nor can the sense of these words be in doubt: "according to your own laws and rules," that is, according to the reasoning and principles of Julian, which he used against the Christians, in order to interdict them from literature. With this interpretation, everything is plain. Furthermore, we have said concerning Julian, or by others, that the procession of superstitions is to be dissolved; and the sequence and argumentation of the discourse persuade us of this.

^A Since it is disguised and far removed from imperial magnificence, come, I shall present to you things even more cunning than these. For seeing that our doctrine is great in its dogmas and in the testimonies from above, and that it is the same both old and new—old, I say, in the predictions and the flashing movements ^B of the Divinity; and new in the later advent of God and the miracles that were designated both from it and around it—and furthermore, that it is greater and more recognizable than the forms of the Church that were handed down to us and have been kept to this day; that not even this might escape his malicious craftiness, what does he contrive, and what does he do? He imitates Rabsaces the Assyrian, who was campaigning for Sennacherib the king of the Assyrians. This man, having marched against Judea, and besieging Jerusalem with a great force and hand, and sitting down before the city, since ^B he was neither able to take the city by strength nor was anything inside being betrayed to him by traitors, undertook to win over the city with gentle words and in the vernacular tongue. When the besieged understood this, they first requested this: that he speak to them in the Syrian language, and not in Hebrew, lest perhaps they might be furtively seduced into slavery by the sweetness of his speech.

CXI. The same man, therefore, thinking these things here too, was prepared to establish schools in every city, along with pulpits and official seats and lower benches; both readings and expositions of Hellenic dogmas, as many as regulate character, and as many as occupy themselves with the treatment of more abstruse matters; ^C also a form of alternating prayers, and of imposing penances upon those who sin according to the measure of the offense; and rites of initiation and perfection, and all things that are undoubtedly of our discipline. He was also establishing inns and hospitals, and monasteries as well as convents for virgins, and at the same time adding humanity and benevolence toward the poor, which existed both in other respects and in the letters of recommendation by which we send those in need from nation to nation—things which he had especially admired in our own affairs.

CXII. These things, indeed, the new dogmatist ^D and sophist was planning in his mind. But that his attempt was empty and vain, and that the man's undertaking did not come into effect, I do not know...

whether it is a gain for us, who have been delivered from him and his crimes more quickly ^A than those who lived until the dream-like vision; for it would have been shown what are the movements of men, and what are the imitations of apes. For even these are said to imitate certain of the human enticements that are craftily set before them; yet they are also caught by these, for their imitation cannot reach our cleverness. For not more than the Thessalian mare, and the Laconian woman, and the men who drink of Arethusa—I mean the Sicilians, as the oracle about them says—possess the choice part of those of the same race, do such customs and ordinances ^B belong to the Christians of what is most fitting; and such that they could be emulated by none others of those who wish to follow us; since such things have prevailed not so much by human inventions as by divine power and the firmness of time.

CXIII. But nothing would be more useful than to contemplate and learn this wonderful fiction, or rather transformation, of theirs as if upon a stage, what their manner of teaching would be, and what the goal of their assemblies; so that, as Plato says regarding the city in speech, we may see their design in motion. For since all philosophy is divided into these two, ^C I mean contemplation and action; and while the former is higher, though harder to judge, whereas the latter is humbler, yet more useful; with us both flourish through the help of the other. For we make contemplation a companion on the journey toward things above, and action a companion of contemplation.

Indeed, it is impossible for those who have not lived wisely to be possessors of wisdom. But regarding them, I know not which will be thought more ridiculous and feeble: that they do not possess the power of their constitution from divine inspiration, not unlike those roots which, because they are not fixed in a stable place, are carried off by the waves. ^A Let us, therefore, cast ourselves into their blessed company, so that, just as they themselves play and tell myths—as is accustomed to happen in most theatrical performances—we too may play along a little; and to the command to rejoice with them that rejoice, and to weep with them that weep, let this also be added: that we endure to trifle with them that trifle. For even the poets very often recognize laughter in tears.

CXIV. Let the theater, therefore, be well prepared

CXV.

Will you present them to the interpreters of divine oracles—as you yourselves would call them—and will you unroll for them books both theological and ethical? Which books, pray tell me, and by whom? It would be a fine thing for the *Theogony* of Hesiod to be sung to them, with its wars and tumults, its Titans and Giants, along with their terrifying names and deeds: Cotus, Briareus, Gyges, Enceladus, your dragon-footed ones, your thunder-wielding gods, and the islands hurled upon them—weapons and tombs at once for those who met them in battle—and their bitter offspring and complications, Hydras, Chimaeras, Cerberus, Gorgons, the very collection of all evil. Let these be the noble things of Hesiod set before the ears of the audience. Let Orpheus come forward with his lyre and his song that draws all things to itself, and let him thunder forth to Zeus those great and extraordinary words and concepts of your theology:

"Most glorious Zeus, greatest of gods, who wallows in dung, As much of sheep, as much of horses, as much of mules,"

so that from this, I suppose, the life-giving and life-bearing power of God might be demonstrated, for it could not be shown in any other way; nor should one spare even other such grandiloquence:

"Thus the goddess spoke, and uncovered both her thighs, To initiate her lovers,"

which to this day are still performed through signs and gestures. Beyond all this, let Phanes and Ericapaeus come forward, and he who devours all the other gods and then brings them forth again, that he might become the father of gods and men. Let these things be pressed upon the marvelous listeners of [this] theology, and let allegories and portentous interpretations be devised for them; and let the discourse, wandering far from the matters at hand, be carried off into precipices, into a contemplation that has no firm standing.

CXVI. And where will you place Homer, that great playwright—shall I call him a writer of comedies or tragedies?—for your gods? For you will find both in his marvelous poems: some things worthy of tragedy, others of laughter. For it is truly a matter of no small concern to contemplate how Oceanus is to be reconciled with Tethys through the help of Hera, who is adorned in the manner of a harlot—since there was danger to the whole universe if they were to practice temperance for a time—or whether it is necessary for the dry nature and the moist to be reconciled, lest the whole be confounded by the excess of one or the other; or do you imagine something else that is more absurd than these? And what is the marvelous union of the cloud-gatherer and the noble Hera, when it induces him to behave indecently in the middle of the day?

Even if the poets flatter him with their meters, spreading out a dewy lotus and making saffron and hyacinth bloom from the earth, whence come these things, and what is the account of them? And how is it that the same Hera in your view, the sister and spouse of the great Zeus, is now ^A suspended in the ether and clouds, dragged down by iron anvils and bound in golden shackles—she, the white-armed and rosy-fingered, so that even when the gods strive to intercede for her, such human suffering is not without risk—while now she assumes the entire girdle of love and entices Zeus with such wanton adornment that he himself confesses all his former loves for all women to be far inferior to this one? And what is this fear, that because of the gods being stirred up for the Laconian adulteress and heaven thundering, the seat of the earth might be rent asunder, the sea might be overturned, and the kingdom of Hades might be exposed, and those things which had been covered for a long time might come into the open? What, furthermore, is that nod of the dark brows and the shaking of the divine locks, which makes the whole Olympus tremble? What, too, is that Mars who is wounded or locked in a bronze prison? He, I say, the uncouth lover of the golden Aphrodite and the careless adulterer, who was caught and bound by the lame Vulcan, gathered a theater of the gods to witness his own indecency, and was released for a small price?

^C CXVII. Since all these things, and more than these, are so cleverly and variously composed and so altogether extraordinary, who among you is so great and lofty, and truly equal to Zeus in counsel, that he can, by means of reasons that are raised above the clouds of contemplation and that transcend the capacity and measure of our mind, render them honest and seemly? And indeed, if these things are true, let them not be ashamed, but rather let them boast, or prove that they are free from such turpitude. For what need is there for them to have recourse to myth, as if to a covering for their turpitude? For myth is not the refuge of those who are confident, but of those who are afraid and turning their backs. But if they are false, first let them show us the naked theologians, ^D so that we may enter into a discussion with them. Next, let them say whether it is not foolish to boast of those things as firm and sure, while being ashamed of the very same things as fictitious and fabulous; and to take things that might have been obscure and unknown to the multitude—for not everyone possesses learning—and to publish them to the eyes of all in the form of fabrications and masks, and, most terrible of all, with

so much financial loss, in temples, on altars, with foundations 45, with votive offerings, and with immensely expensive sacrifices, when it is possible to be pious without financial loss, yet one prefers to be impious and suffer loss? [657, B] [658, A]

CXVIII.

CXIX.

and has come to pass. ^A But for them, the theoretical topic is such, and so far removed from its premises, that one could sooner join all things together and bring into one that which is parted by a long interval, or compose and harmonize these things and affirm them to be by the same man—I refer to their myths and their shrouds—than bring these into agreement.

CXX. What, moreover, would you say regarding that part of their discipline that deals with morals? From whence, and from what starting points, and using what arguments could they be able to mold them toward virtue and make them worthy of the highest praise for their exhortations? For instance: concord is an excellent thing, and it is an excellent thing for cities, and peoples, and families, and individual men to be joined together in ^B equal agreement of mind, following the law and order of nature, which has both divided and bound all things together, and has made this entire mass a single universe out of many things. By what examples will they teach this? By recounting the wars of the gods, and their dissensions, and their rebellions, and the multitude of evils which they themselves both possess and inflict upon one another, privately and publicly, with which almost all history and poetry is filled? They would more quickly render the peaceful warlike, and the wise senseless and demented, through such examples, than they would render the bold and foolish moderate and prudent. For whom, even when the enticements of vice are removed, it is difficult to turn away from evil and move from the worse part to the better, who, I ask, would persuade these men to be gentle and self-restrained when they have the gods as leaders and patrons of their vicious passions? ^C Where it is not only not considered shameful to be vicious, but even honorable (inasmuch as one adopts some god as a defender and patron who labors under this vicious passion), and it is adorned with altars and sacrifices and has obtained legitimate license? For this is the most indignant thing of all, that things which are punished by the laws, these they worship as divine: such is the abundance and amplitude of injustice among them.

CXXI. Secondly, let honor and reverence toward parents be proposed to them: and [the principle] that, immediately after the First Cause, the cause of one's birth must be honored and venerated: let both reason teach this, and let theology persuade it. But how would Saturn ^D not persuade this, when he mutilated the procreative parts of Coelus, so that he might not beget gods, and gave them to the waves to create a god, the offspring of foam?

Jupiter ^A against Saturn, rising up by the example of his father—that sweet stone, I say, and cruel tyrant-slayer; or if there is anything else of this sort concerning the honor of their progenitors that is contained in their volumes? Let a third thing be theirs: to despise and spurn riches, and not to seek gain from every source, nor to accept unjust acquisition as a pledge of calamity. How then will Lucrius be established for them, and the money-bag be brought forward, and the thievish power and faculty of the god be honored—and that saying, "Without money Phoebus does not utter prophecies," and that nothing is more precious than an obol? For these are their grave and venerable opinions.

CXXII. What more? Let them teach modesty, let them urge continence. And he who persuades is close at hand—Jupiter, of course, who, on account of his love for women, ^B assumes any shape whatsoever, and becomes the most beloved amorous eagle for the Phrygian youths (so that the gods might feast most pleasantly, being served wine by the catamites of Jupiter); and that Hercules, the "three-evening" hero, struggling in one night with the fifty daughters of Thestius, and completing this thirteenth labor—which I do not know why it was omitted from the number of his other contests. Let Mars restrain his anger, Bacchus his drunkenness, Diana her hatred of strangers, the oblique one—their own prophet—his deceit, that god who limps and leans on thin, spindly legs restrain his immoderate laughter while the other gods are grieving; let Jupiter restrain his gluttony, running off for a rich banquet to the blameless Ethiopians together with the other demons; and ^C the "Ox-feaster," who used force against a plowman and devoured a yoke-ox, and took his name from the deed; and finally all of them, rushing with great haste toward the odors of meat and libations.

CXXIII. But can these things apply to our religion and doctrine, with whom the law and rule of friendship is each person himself, and to wish for one’s neighbors the same things as for oneself? And with whom crime is not merely the having committed an evil, but even having come near to evil—so that even the desire itself is punished almost as if it were the act; with whom the pursuit of modesty is so great that even the eye is bridled and restrained, and the murderous and deadly hand is kept so far away that even anger itself is disciplined; and perjury is considered so terrible and monstrous, ^D that it would even render ambiguous oracles, which have led very many into error and the greatest calamities.

it is considered bitter and nefarious, that even swearing should be forbidden to us alone? But as for money, for many it never existed at all; many, ^B on the other hand, for this very reason gladly possessed much, that they might despise much, cultivating extreme poverty as if it were the sum of all riches. Furthermore, having cast aside the belly, as a bitter and detestable master and the mother of all evils, to the vulgar crowd—it would not be a great thing to say of them that they exert such force upon themselves as to appear almost devoid of flesh itself, consuming that which is mortal by that which is immortal; and this is their one law of virtue: not to succumb even to the slightest vices, and those neglected by all others. And there is nothing more excellent or distinguished than the fact that, while others punish the finished acts of crimes according to the laws, we strike at the very principles, and like a certain evil and hardly restrainable torrent, we check it far in advance.

^C 124. Where, I ask, and among what men, is it ordained that those who are reviled should bless, that those who are blasphemed should entreat—since accusation does not harm us any more than the truth does—that those who suffer persecution should yield, that those who are despoiled of their clothes should strip themselves further, that those who are met with curses and execrations should pray for those who curse them? In a word, to conquer audacity and importunity with kindness, and to make those who do injustice better through our patience? And even if we should grant that they restrain vice with their painted precepts, how in the end could they have arrived at the stage of our virtue and teaching, when we judge them—not that they make progress in virtue, nor that they become new men out of old, but that they remain in the same state—to be stagnant in vice? For the same thing would happen to us as to tops, which we see spinning in a circle, but not advancing, and unmoved, so to speak, ^D while rotated by the force of the lash. Therefore, it behooves us to have such an established way of life that we partly perform virtues, partly apply ourselves to them, and partly eagerly desire them, until we have arrived at that end and deification, for which we were created and toward which we hasten, if indeed we are of a lofty mind and one that penetrates on high, and hope for something worthy of the magnificence of God.

ORATION V.

Second Invective against Emperor Julian.

I. And indeed, the first contest of my words is completed and finished. For the man’s ^A first labor has been accomplished and brought to an end; for—

I have ^A sufficiently demonstrated the man's wickedness in what he performed against us, and in what he was likely to do, for he was always contemplating something weightier than the present troubles. Now, however, we shall set before ourselves another aim for our discourse, to which I do not know if anyone has yet reached; one more sacred before God, more pleasing to us, and even more useful to posterity. This is to add to the things already said those just scales of God, and those things by which wickedness is counterbalanced—meeting some immediately, and others a little later—as it seems good, I suppose, to the Craftsman Word, the steward of our affairs, who knows how to check calamity with mercy, and to discipline audacity with ignominy and scourges, by whatever measures of instruction He himself knows.

^B II. For who could adequately describe and exaggerate, according to their dignity, the deserved diseases, and the by no means obscure bodily corruptions of the impious, and the manifold other blows and scourges congruent to their crimes, and the deaths that occurred in a manner not customary, and the confessions and useless repentances held within the very terrors themselves, and the lessons learned through dreams, and the visions seen while awake? And how many things met those who dared such deeds—whether they sinned against the holy houses, or insulted the holy tables, or in madness defiled the mystical vessels, or with a certain impudence filled their bellies with our bodies, or performed any other sort of crime—as manifest and visible signs of the wrath of God against such men? I shall, indeed, willingly pass over these things, not because I disbelieve in the things that are seen and spoken of, ^C nor because I attribute what occurs to some random impulse and chance, as do those who casually assume such things to be the case, but so that I may not appear to be wasting my time on minor matters, having passed over the greater and more famous ones. I am coming, therefore, to relate the miracle that is on everyone’s lips, which does not lack belief even among those who think there is no God.

III. He raged against us day by day ever more vehemently, not otherwise than as one raising wave upon wave, he himself the first...

^A to have been driven mad and to have trampled upon holy things, and to have insulted the Spirit of grace. We might more appositely call him Jeroboam, or Ahab the Israelite, that most lawless of men, or that Egyptian Pharaoh, or the Assyrian Nebuchadnezzar, or rather, bringing all these together, we shall call him by one and the same name; since it is evident that he gathered into himself the vices of them all—the defection of Jeroboam, the credulity of Ahab, the hardness of Pharaoh, the sacrilege of Nebuchadnezzar, and, in short, the impiety of all of them combined. And when he had run through all the rest, and had despised every kind of tyranny and cruelty against us as being some petty and ignoble thing (for never was there a nature more fertile and rich than his in the invention and contrivance of evils), at last he let loose even the Jewish nation against us, taking advantage of their ancient fickleness and the hatred of us that had long been smoldering in their hearts, to serve as helpers in the scheme he was working toward; claiming that it was fated by the books and secret writings in their possession that they should now return to their own land, rebuild the temple, and renew the authority of their ancestral rites—masking his design under a pretense of benevolence.

^B IV. But when he had conceived these things in his mind and had persuaded them (for it is easy to practice imposture upon those who enjoy what they hear), they prepared themselves for the construction of the temple, and applied themselves to the work with much effort, and with alacrity of spirit and labor. For those who admire their affairs relate that their wives not only readily stripped off all their matronly adornments and bodily finery to contribute to the work and help those who were laboring, but were also of such a mind that, as they carried out the earth in their bosoms, not sparing their splendid and exquisite garments, nor their tender limbs, they considered themselves to be performing a duty of piety, and held everything else to be inferior to this undertaking. But when, by a fierce whirlwind and a sudden agitation of the seething earth, they were all at once driven back, they made their way to a nearby temple, some for the sake of prayer, others—as is wont to happen in such matters—using it as a refuge from the danger that presented itself, and others still being swept along by the turmoil and rushing in with those who were running; there are some who say that the temple did not even receive them, but that when they approached the gates, they found them closed ^C by some invisible and unseen power, which works such wonders against the impiety of the wicked ^D.

^A Yet all now both say and believe that when they were forcing their way and striving to enter, fire stood forth from the temple to meet them; some it consumed and destroyed (so that something similar happened to them as to the Sodomites, or the miracle regarding Nadab and Abihu, who strangely offered incense and were put in danger), while others it mutilated in their vital parts, leaving them as a living column to warn of God’s threat and agitation against sinners. This is indeed how it was, and let no one be faithless, for one should not be faithless regarding the other powers of God either. But what is even more paradoxical and manifest than this is that a light stood in the sky ^B describing a cross, and the symbol and name which before on earth were despised by the godless are now shown in the heavens equally to all, becoming a trophy for God of the victory against the impious, more exalted than any other trophy.

V.

^A VI. And so let these things be said by me concerning the heavenly and supernal powers, which, in accordance with the great harmony and affinity that shines forth in the universe, sympathize with our affairs. As for what follows, let the Psalmist now fulfill it for me: "You have destroyed cities" (like those of old for the same impieties), amidst those very iniquities which they were using against us; some were engulfed by the seas, others were brought down and overturned by earthquakes, so that I might almost say what remains of them: "Their memorial has perished with a sound," and with a manifest and famous destruction. For so great is their ruin and so great their shattering, both of them and of those that are adjacent, especially those that take delight in impiety, that if anyone were even to attempt their restoration, it would require a long time for that task.

^B VII. Now, these were the portents of the earth and the sky; but did the air, at such a time, display nothing remarkable, nor was it then sanctified by the signs of the passion of Christ? Let them bring forward even now their garments—those who were spectators and witnesses of that miracle—those, I say, which were then branded and marked with the signs of the cross. For as soon as someone, whether of our own people or of the outsiders, recounted these things, or heard them being recounted, he would immediately perceive this miracle either in himself or in his neighbor—himself being star-speckled and distinguished by marks, or seeing the other like that in his garments, surpassing all elegance of the weaver's art or any painting fashioned with the greatest care in variety. This matter struck the minds of those who saw it with such amazement that nearly everyone, as if by a single signal and with one voice, invoked the God of the Christians and strove to appease Him with many praises and prayers. Many, too, not putting the matter off, but at that very time when these things occurred, hastened to our priests, and after offering many prayers, were admitted into the Church and initiated into the more sublime mysteries, purified by the holy baptism, and having derived profit from fear.

^C VIII. Thus, indeed, matters stood. Julian, however, pricked and agitated by the gadfly of his gradually worsening madness, at last arrived at the very head of his own calamities. For as he supposed that the affairs of the Christians were proceeding according to his own desire, and from those things which he had already accomplished, [he imagined that all was capturable].

^A Having snatched at a certain success against the Western barbarians, he thought of this one plan, most wise and most humane: raising a twofold army from here—the one of soldiers, the other of the demons who led him, and on whose aid he relied more heavily—he set out on an expedition against the Persians, trusting in the rashness of recklessness rather than in the security of strength. And even that, the "wisest" man was unable to perceive: that confidence and recklessness, even if they draw close in name, are worlds apart in power, just as we say courage and cowardice are. For to be confident in daring matters is a mark of courage, just as to yield is a mark of cowardice; but where the danger is greater, to go to meet it and to press forward, rather than to be restrained, is a mark of recklessness, just as to withdraw is a mark of security. And one should not place in the same category the guarding of what one has and the addition of something one does not have; for the former must be honored by those who have sense, primarily and above all; the latter, if it exists with ease, is to be accepted, but if it opposes itself, it is to be disregarded. But he who risks all his existing possessions to acquire some of his hoped-for ones is exceedingly foolish. And to me he seems to resemble a boxer unskilled in his art, who, before he has established his stance well, puts forward ^B or a helmsman whose ship is coming apart and is not fit for sailing, who [is either sinking] a hostile ship or is intent on sinking one. Considering none of these things, he initiated his plans thoughtlessly, while the Roman state was, as it were, still in labor and in a bad state, especially because of the persecution he had stirred up, yet he was dreaming of foreign lands; he was like a certain Salmoneus, imitating thunder with leather, looking toward those Trajans and those Hadrians, whose security and prudence were no less a source of admiration than their bravery. He did not think of that Carus, nor of that Valerian, who paid the penalty for an unreasoning impulse—lest, as the tragedy says, I reproach their fortunes—being cut down in the land of the Persians, in the very prime of their success.

IX

^A uniting them into one, in order that it might all be destroyed in a short time. And what a great and supernatural expiation, O Christ, and Word, and passion of the Impassible, and mystery of the whole world! To subject the entire race of Christians to demons, should he gain his intended objective. Now his initial attempts at the enterprise were indeed exceedingly bold, and are celebrated with loud voices by many of those who favor his side, being of this sort: For when he had captured and devastated that whole part of Assyria which the Euphrates, flowing through and passing along Persis, joins with the Tigris, and had demolished several fortresses destitute of any garrison—whether because he had eluded the Persians by the speed of his incursion, or because he was being led by them intentionally and gradually enticed to proceed further (for both is said)—thus then having advanced, with the army marching at his side, and with the ships carrying the grain and supplies along the river, after a few days he pitched camp at Ctesiphon; of which city he was possessed by such a great desire that he thought that coming near to it was a part of the victory.

X. From this point on, however, as if the sand were snatched from under one’s feet, or as if a storm had dashed against a ship, matters for him flow backward. For Ctesiphon is a fortress strong and difficult to capture, fortified by a wall of baked brick, by a deep trench, and by the marshes from the river. And another fortress, which they call Cochen, renders it still stronger, constructed with equal protection of both nature and art, so joined to the other fortress that both present the appearance of only one city, since they are divided from each other only by the separation of the river. When he could neither take them by a sudden incursion and assault, nor capture and reduce them to his power by siege, nor yet proceed further with his army, and especially with his naval forces (for there was a danger that he might be assailed from a higher position by missiles from both sides and be prevented from crossing), he finally leaves them behind him in this way: For after having breached a not insignificant part of the Euphrates, the greatest of all rivers, and having diverted so much of it through a certain trench (of which they say that ancient traces even exist) that it might be sufficient for carrying the ships, and having united this a little further up ^B with the Tigris, thus at last he saves the ships, safely transported from river to river. Thus then— ^{C D}

^A he escaped the danger of those encampments. But as the Persian forces appeared to those advancing and increased daily, they began to hold to a manner of waging war such that they decided they must by no means stand against them in open battle, nor, when they might win by an abundance of troops, venture the hazard of a fight unless compelled by great necessity; but rather, from the hills and narrow places, where opportunity was given, they should shoot at the enemy with arrows, and having occupied the most opportune passages of the way, they would easily check them, preventing them from proceeding any further: then, indeed, he was in great anxiety of mind; and having nowhere to turn, he finally encountered the wretched outcome of his counsel.

XI. For a certain man among the Persians, not ignoble, ^B having imitated the deed of that Zopyrus toward Cyrus during the siege of Babylon, as if he had come into most serious disgrace with the Persian king for some very grave reasons—or rather having greatly offended him in the greatest matters—and being on that account most hostile to the king's interests, but friendly to the Roman cause, and having thus gained credibility through his pretense, said: "What is this, Emperor? Why do you deliberate so foolishly about a matter of such importance? What is this nautical food-supply of yours, and this superfluous burden, this tutor of cowardice? For nothing is so difficult to fight, and nothing so stubborn, as the belly, and the holding of one's hope of safety in one's own hands. ^C Wherefore, if you will listen to me, you will order this naval apparatus to depart, along with the languor it brings back to this most valiant army: you, however, will make your incursion into the enemy's land by a way easier and safer, of which I promise to be your guide—for I am as skilled in the Persian region as any other—and having accomplished things according to your desire, you will prepare for your return. For you will then at last confer a favor upon me, when you have taken proof by the event itself of my benevolence toward you and of my counsel."

XII. When he had said these things, and by saying them had persuaded him—for levity is credulous, ^D and especially when God was driving the impious man on—the army began to be pressed by all hardships at once. The ships were burning with fire, there was no grain, and to top it off, mockery was added; for it was almost the same as if one had laid hands upon himself and brought about his own destruction. All hopes had vanished, and the guide of the journey had departed with his promises. Furthermore, the enemies were pressing in on every side, and the war flowed around them: movement forward was not easy, provisions were hard to obtain; the army was languishing and had collapsed in spirit, and was inflamed against the emperor: there remained no hope of anything good.

XIII. Concerning what has happened so far

^A Certainly, the universe received a salutary wound, and by a single incision he paid the penalty for many viscera in which he had wrongly trusted. And I wonder at this, too: how a vain man who thought he knew everything else from this source, was ignorant of this one thing—that he was about to inflict a wound upon his own vitals.

XIV. But we must not pass over this fact either, which provides the greatest proof of his lost madness, beyond many other things. He lay upon the bank of the river, suffering gravely from his wound. Since he knew that many people before his time who had achieved glory were thought to be more than mortal, having concealed themselves from the eyes of men by certain arts, and for that reason were held to be gods, he was seized by a desire for this same glory. And at the same time, because he was ashamed of the manner of his death on account of the infamy of his recklessness, what does he plot? What does he do? For wickedness is not extinguished along with life. He attempts to throw his body into the flowing river, and for this purpose he employed the help of some of his trusted confidants who were privy to his secrets. And had not one of the imperial eunuchs, having perceived the matter and made it known to others, out of hatred and detestation for such a crime prevented this attempt, surely another new god would have arisen from this calamity for foolish men. And he, having thus discharged his rule and administered the war, thus also departs from life.

XV. But immediately after his death ^B the one who succeeded to the empire—he who, in the camp itself and in the very flame of dangers that necessarily required a leader, had been proclaimed—was a man distinguished and famous both in other respects and in piety, and gifted with a majesty of countenance truly worthy of the throne. Since he was in no way able to join battle with the Persians, nor to advance, although he lacked nothing in courage and zeal, because the army had lost both its hands and its hopes, he sought a retreat, and was considering how he might achieve it safely, having become the heir not of an empire, but of a defeat. And if ^C the Persians, moderating themselves in their victory (for this is their custom, to apply moderation in prosperity), or fearing something else among the things rumored, had not turned to entering into treaties—and such unexpected and humane ones at that—not even a “fire-bearer,” as the saying goes, would have survived for the army. So much did the Persians have them within their grasp, both by fighting on their own land and by being emboldened ^D by the events that had occurred; for it is enough to obtain something of success, even in the hope of the future.

But now, as I have already said, he was wholly concerned with saving the army and leaving behind the sinews for the Romans; for they were truly sinews, even if they had fared badly, owing more to the rashness of their commander than to their own cowardice. The Persians, however, made a treaty on conditions that were indeed shameful and unworthy of the Roman hand—to speak most briefly—and if anyone, while letting that man off from the responsibility, were to blame this one, he is, in my judgment, a very unfair judge of the events that occurred at that time. For the ear of corn does not belong to the one who harvested, but to the one who sowed; nor should the fire be assigned to him who could not extinguish it, but to him who ignited it. And it would be appropriate to use the saying of Herodotus regarding the tyranny of the Samians: “This shoe Histiaeus indeed stitched, but Aristagoras put it on,” he who succeeded to the affairs of his predecessor. ^B

XVI. What remained, except that the corpse of the impious one should be brought back to the Romans, even if he had thus departed from the living? But since we also have the lifeless body—this one, I mean, who departed from life before him—let us here also see the difference between the two emperors, if this too contributes anything to the happiness or unhappiness of those who have departed. The one, indeed, is escorted with public proclamations and auspicious cheers and processions, and even with these customs of ours—that is, with all-night canticles and torches, with which we Christians think a pious departure from life should be honored. And the translation of the body has with it a celebrity joined with mourning. ^C But if the account is credible to anyone—and this too has been spread abroad in the ears of many—that when the body was crossing the Taurus range to be brought to his ancestral city, the one, I mean, which bears their name and is most renowned, a certain voice was heard by some from the heights, as if of those chanting and accompanying—angelic powers, I suppose—a reward for his piety and an epitaph in return. For even if he seemed to disturb the true faith, yet even this ^D

this crime is to be attributed to the obtrusiveness of the nobles and the perversity of their faith, who, finding a soul that was simple and insufficiently firm in piety, and not foreseeing the precipices, led it away wherever they pleased, and under the pretext of stricter doctrine, turned its zeal into vice.

17 XVII. But as for us, considering both the father, by whom the foundations of imperial power and faith were laid for Christianity ^A, and also the inheritance of the faith devolved upon the son ^B, thinking of him who had always lived justly in his sovereignty, and had ended his life with a holy conclusion, and had left the empire to us—we honored the tabernacle, as was proper. But as it approached more closely to the great and imperial city, what need is there to speak of the escort of the whole army, and the ranks of armed men—presenting themselves to the emperor as if he were still enjoying the use of life—or of the pouring forth of the glorious city, the most celebrated of all that have ever existed or will exist? Yet that bold and noble one ^C, adorned with his new purple, and for that reason, as is natural, feeling very grand, becomes himself also a participant of that funeral honor, returning and receiving the same favor—partly under duress and necessity, partly of his own will, as rumor has it. For the whole army, even if it submitted to the present government, all the more granted honor to the departed (since it is our nature to be somehow more favorably disposed to those [whose passing is] still fresh in our griefs, and we are moved by affection and attach pity to the deceased), and for this reason, not bearing that he should not be honored as an emperor ^D, they persuade the apostate, and compel him to meet the corpse with the appropriate demeanor; and this was: having removed the diadem from his head, and having bowed down before the emperor as was fitting, thus to accompany him to the tomb with those carrying him, and to the venerable shrine of the Apostles, who have themselves received and protect the holy race, performing almost equal honors [with those who did so before him].

Such was our emperor’s funeral.

^B XVIII. In contrast, while his expedition was shameful and foul (for it was agitated by peoples and cities, and by public and scurrilous voices, which many still remember even now), his return was even more shameful and disgraceful. And what was this disgrace? Mimes and actors led him along, assailing him with insults drawn from the stage and with mockeries, and reproaching him with his abjuration of the faith, his defeat, and the end of his life. For what did they not do or say—those things that men of that sort, who make impudence their art, are accustomed to perpetrate—until at last the city of Tarsus received him, I know not how, or for what reason, affected by this outrage? Here he has an ignoble shrine, an impure tomb, and a temple to be cursed, and not even to be looked upon by the eyes of the pious.

XIX. I have summarized these things as the greatest and most serious of his crimes, not being ignorant that to two or three court flatterers, his equals in impiety (for I omit the others by design), such a reward for their impiety was given that nothing seemed likely to prevent them, within a short time, from plundering all the lands and seas subject to the Roman empire, had not a speedier end been granted to those affairs. To such a degree did they surpass those ancient hundred-handed giants in robbery and greed. Furthermore, the governance of provinces was entrusted not to the best and most moderate men, but to the most cruel; and there was but one vote for obtaining any honor or dignity: defection from the faith; and so they obtained their gifts from him, having consulted most wretchedly for themselves.

XX. Why need I mention the changes and twistings of lawsuits, which were frequently altered and overturned in the space of a single night, no differently than the ebb and flow of the tides; seeing that this noble man also desired to judge cases, obviously claiming everything for himself out of a desire for glory? Perhaps I may seem to be collecting small and very trivial crimes, and to treat the greatest with small matters of disgrace. Yet this must be admitted: that these things are by no means worthy of the Elysian Fields, nor of the fame of Rhadamanthus in that place, to which those hundred-handed ones deem him to belong.

^A One thing regarding him I find worthy of admiration: for many of those who were his acquaintances and intimates—especially from his training in the Asian schools—he would summon with great eagerness, as if he were about to bestow upon them marvelous things, appearing to buoy them up with hopes as they remembered his promises. But when they arrived, he would treat them to—well, let us call them—tricks of the ballot-box and deceptions of the eyes; mocking some in one way, others in another; even entertaining some at his table with a show of friendship, and with much "My companion!" and offering of wine, and crying out in a loud, forced voice ^B—instead of any other kind of lure—he would send them away empty-handed, leaving them unable to determine whether they should blame his fraudulence more, or their own fickleness.

XXI. But how is it not praiseworthy in the education of this philosopher, that he was so free from anger and so much above the turbulent passions of the mind? Just like those kings and emperors of old who once flourished in the praise of tranquility and self-control, and who, even if some trouble befell them, changed not their countenance in any way, nor showed any trace of perturbation—so that, while he performed the office of judge, he would fill the hall with shouting and clamor, not otherwise than if he himself were the one to whom force and injury were being offered, rather than coming to the aid of those who were actually suffering these things? These matters we shall not even deem worthy of a speech. But who among all is ignorant of the fact that, to those from among even the more rustic people who approached him publicly to obtain any of the things that common folk usually seek from emperors, he would deal so harshly—striking them openly with his fist, and assailing them with kicks—that they deemed it a great thing to have been treated no worse?

^C XXII. And those puffings and counter-puffings, which that admirable man—that detractor of our doctrines—would demonstrate to old women in opposition, by lighting the altar-fire, where in my discourse shall I place them? For truly it was a splendid thing to behold the cheeks of the Roman emperor indecently swelling and provoking immense laughter, not only among outsiders, but even among those to whom he thought he was pleasing by doing these things. Yet he did not heed Athena, his own goddess, who is said to have cursed the flutes after she perceived, having used the water in place of a mirror, that they were a disgrace to her. Regarding the toasts and... ^D

cups with which he openly and publicly provoked prostitutes, and was in turn provoked by them, veiling his petulant lust under the pretense of a mystery, who would not find him worthy of wonder ^A?

XXIII. These things experience itself and a power that had acquired license made clear to others, but to me they were in a certain manner foreseen long before, from the time when I was with him at Athens. For he came there also, immediately after the events that had been plotted against his brother, having begged the emperor for this very thing. He had a twofold reason for his arriving there: one, the more honorable, to visit Greece and its schools; the other, more hidden and known to few, to consult the soothsayers and impostors of that region who were there regarding his own affairs, since his impiety had not yet acquired freedom and confidence. At that time, therefore, I remember that I was no poor judge of this man, although I am not one of those well-endowed in such matters. But the instability of his character and gait, and a certain immense agitation of his mind, made a prophet of me; for he is the best prophet who knows how to conjecture rightly. For there appeared to me no sign of a good man: a neck not firm, shoulders which he kept moving and shrugging, an eye wandering and rolling and looking insane, feet unstable and faltering, a nose breathing arrogance and contempt, ridiculous facial contortions ^B that betokened the same, unbridled and boiling laughter, nods and shakes of the head without any reason, speech that was hesitant and broken by panting, questions disorderly and foolish, answers no better than these, encroaching upon one another and not steady, nor proceeding by the order of learning.

XXIV. Why is there need to describe each detail? Such as I saw him before his deeds, such he also appeared in his deeds ^C, soon after the slaughter of his brother, when he had answered the charges brought against him before the Emperor Constantius at Milan. ^D

I recognized them. And if any of those who were present then and heard me were here, they would not find it difficult to bear witness. When I saw these things, I spoke out at once: "What an evil the Roman Empire is fostering!" and I foretold these events, and prayed that I might become a false prophet unto myself. ^A For it would have been better for the world to be filled with evils other than these, and for no such monster to have appeared, such as had never been seen before; even though, besides this, many deluges are spoken of, and many conflagrations, and upheavals of the earth, and chasms; and furthermore, most inhuman men, and strange and compound beasts, which nature has brought forth in some new fashion. For this reason, he eventually met a fitting end for his madness; for it is only here that God could no longer endure his accustomed long-suffering, since His forbearance would have been pernicious to many, and was destined to bring much despondency to those who live righteously, and much contempt and insolence to those who sin, as if no one were looking upon our affairs, nor was there any governance or retribution, but that the whole world was carried and revolved by chance; which is the mark of an evil mind, and one that is most precariously disposed concerning the greatest matters.

XXV.

^A combatants? Where are those threatenings against the Christians, and those menaces, and that foretold destruction of us down to our very name? All has vanished, all has been proven false, all has melted away; the boastings of the impious have appeared as a dream.

XXVI. And yet, Hezekiah, king of Judah, when a certain king of the foreigners had come against him with a great force and had encircled Jerusalem with an army, and had bitterly cast forth impious and insulting words both against the king and against God Himself—as if, whatsoever he might undertake, the city could in no wise be snatched from his hands and power—he betook himself to the temple; and with garments rent, and a great flood of tears poured forth, and hands stretched out to heaven, he called God as witness ^B to the blasphemy of Sennacherib, and entreated that He be the avenger of the arrogance of those who threatened, saying: "Thou hast seen, Lord, how many reproaches this foreigner has cast at Thee, the God of Israel. Thou hast seen, Lord, do not be silent." And he was not deceived in his petition; but that impious enemy of God perceived his own madness and fury in the very event, and departed unsuccessful with his threats, by the sudden onrush of a certain invisible power; and having lost the greater part of his army, and having withdrawn with bitter news, he unexpectedly broke both the siege and his hopes. This did Hezekiah, who was clothed with great power, that king of the great Jerusalem, who perhaps even by his own strength ^C might have pushed back and repelled the enemy. But we, for whom the only weapon, and wall, and bulwark, and defense is hope in God, being utterly destitute and shorn of all human assistance—whom else were we to have as a listener to our prayers, or as a repeller of threats, than God, who swears against the pride of Jacob? Oh, for stories that defy belief! Oh, for the ^D of those whose hopes…

[alt-version omitted]

"who swears against the pride of Jacob?" that is, or him who swears by Jacob. In whom, moreover? In Him who stands above all and is seen above all, God; or God who swears by the faith and greatness of Jacob, as Jacob himself says, not swearing by demons, but by God, etc. Which interpretation of Basil’s, if perhaps it is less according to the mind of Gregory, certainly approaches the sense of Scripture. For by "the pride of Jacob" is usually meant excellence, loftiness, glory, magnificence, as may be seen in very many places in Scripture, and especially in this passage of Amos VIII, 7, in which by the Hebrew word which the Prophet uses, is understood the singular glory of the Israelites, who were the inheritance and peculiar possession of God, according to that of the Psalm (XLVI, 4): "He chose for us His inheritance, the beauty of Jacob which He loved." Others interpret this as God Himself or the temple. Gregory, however, seems to wish for this: that God detests the pride of the impious against Jacob. What, however, if for "swearing," one should understand "he who aids, who avenges"?

^A incredible narrations! O the recklessness of the things conceived in your mind! We had been promised to the demons, as if we were some other victim, and that great inheritance of God, that holy nation, that royal priesthood, we had become the prize of one hope and the trophy of one war.

XXVII. Did you, then, bring these rewards to the Christians in return for having been saved by them, and thus badly requited the Lord your God? Now, previously, while God was still restraining and delaying His wrath on our behalf, and had not yet set aflame all His zeal—but still held His hand high against the wicked, and while He bent and made ready His bow, He yet held it back by force, and, like some festering and malignant disease waiting for the whole of its wickedness to erupt, He awaited—as is indeed the law of God’s judgment, that He may either save through repentance or punish with a more righteous title—at that time, being vexed at what was taking place and faint-hearted ^B regarding the future (for we could not endure the kindness of His which was hidden from those who belonged to Him), we were sending forth to God such cries as these: partly calling upon Him as Lord, partly lamenting before a kind and gentle Father, and partly, as it were, reproaching and reasoning with Him, as those who are in pain are accustomed to do: "Why, O God, hast Thou cast us off unto the end? Shall Thy fury be kindled against the sheep of Thy pasture? And be mindful of Thy congregation, which Thou hast acquired from the beginning, which Thou didst procure by the sufferings of Thine only-begotten Word, which Thou didst deem worthy of Thy great covenant, which Thou didst even draw up to the heavens ^C through the new mystery and through the earnest of the Spirit." And again: "Lift up Thy hands against their pride unto the end," reminding Him of how much the enemies had acted wickedly against Thy saints and had boasted against Thy festivals. We were even invoking the sword and the Egyptian plagues, and we were asking Him to judge His own cause, and finally to arise at length against the wicked, saying: "How long, O Lord, how long shall sinners boast, and shall they humble Thy people, and afflict Thy inheritance, and speak and commit iniquity?" Nay, we were even offering those mournful cries, and ones more suited than the preceding to these ^D things: "Thou hast made us a contradiction and a reproach to our neighbors, in the likeness...

of things to the nations, and a laughingstock to all men." We spoke also of a certain vine, brought over from Egypt—that is, from darkened impiety—and grown to the beauty and magnitude of faith; then stripped of its hedge—that is, the inspection of God, by which we were previously guarded—and exposed as prey to all passers-by, that is, to wicked princes; and ravaged by a wild and savage boar, which made malice its own, and is singularly filled with the mire of wickedness. ^B

XXVIII. These things I did indeed previously both ponder and cry out to God. But now, what different voices I assume! I henceforth lament the destruction of the impious, and I show myself kind to those who hate us, and I use such words as these: "How are they become a desolation? Suddenly they have failed, they have perished because of their iniquity," as dust which a whirlwind has carried off, as chaff which is scattered by the wind, as the morning dew, as the rush of a shot arrow, as the onset of thunder, as lightning that strikes. If indeed they should now change their minds and turn to a better way of thinking, and, putting an end to their vast error and intoxication, pursue the truth, perhaps some profit might come to them from that very calamity; for chastisement itself is often to the advantage and benefit of those who are afflicted by some evil. But if they should remain in the same frame of mind and still embrace the worship of idols, they will not become better even by the calamity itself, which is accustomed to instruct even the foolish. Jeremiah, indeed, laments Jerusalem to such a degree that he commands even inanimate objects to mourn, and calls upon the walls to weep. But for these, what lamentation shall be found worthy? Or who would weep for their present sufferings, and not rather lament the future torment, because they acted foolishly, and wandered far away, and worshipped the creature rather than the Creator; and not content with this, they even made an assault against the worshippers of God, and raised an impious hand, worthy of such evils? ^C

XXIX. Now, as to this, let it be as is pleasing to God. Who knows whether God, who looses the prisoners, and lifts from the gates of death him who is burdened and bowing to the ground, who does not desire the death of the sinner, but his return—who also illumined and instructed us who were sitting in darkness and in the shadow of death—will at last also take up these and shepherd [them].

^A And will he lay aside that heavy and iron rod? But as for me, my discourse shall run back again to the same song of triumph: *Bel has fallen, Dagon is broken in pieces, Saron has become a marsh, Libanus has been put to shame.* They shall no longer say to the fool that he is a prince, that is, to the motionless and senseless army of idols; nor shall they seek after the fly, the god Acharon, or anything else more ridiculous than this. They shall no longer wander through the groves and high places, and every leafy and shady mountain; they shall no longer sacrifice their sons and daughters to demons, as Israel of old was reproached by the prophets. But what are these things to me? I will turn to present matters and to our own affairs. They shall no longer cast evil eyes upon our holy houses; they shall no longer defile with filthy blood the altars that bear the name of the most pure and unbloody ^B sacrifice; nor shall they shame the inviolable places with godless altars. They shall no longer plunder and profane votive offerings, mixing avarice with impiety; they shall no longer insult the gray hair of priests, the sanctity of deacons, the modesty of virgins; they shall no longer cast the filth of swine into the viscera of slaughtered saints, that they might be gorged at once with fodder and with entrails; they shall no longer bring fire to the tombs of martyrs, as if suppressing the struggle of others by insults against them; they shall no longer consume the remains of the saints with fire, having mixed them in contempt with the vilest bones, and give them to the winds, that they might deprive them of the honor which is owed to such persons; they shall no longer, by constructing a seat of pestilence, delight in ^C blasphemies against bishops and presbyters, and even against prophets and apostles, and Christ himself, casting these out as delicacies; they shall no longer celebrate festivals against us, excluding us by the interdict of a law stemming from adulterous doctrine, as though they were thereby stopping our tongues as well.

XXX.

and the strain of your instruments, just as my ^A prophet exhorts you. David, however, let him sing freely again—he, I say, who struck down that lofty and arrogant Goliath with mystical stones, who conquered many through gentleness, and who, through spiritual harmony, provided medicine for Saul when he was being choked by a wicked demon. ^B Let your torchbearer extinguish his fire; let the prudent and holy virgins light their lamps for the Bridegroom. Let the hierophant put off his harlot’s garment; priests, instead of the spirit of sloth, put on the stole of justice and glory, and that great and spotless tunic of Christ, our beauty and ornament.

XXXI. Let your herald be silent about shameful and obscene things; let my herald speak of divine things. Suppress your deceitful and fatidical books; let only the prophetic and apostolic ones be unrolled. Restrain your foul nights filled with darkness; I, in contrast, will arouse holy and brilliant all-night vigils. Block up your shrines and the paths leading to Tartarus; I will lead the way in paths that are clear and lead toward heaven. How many armaments of war, pray, and how many inventions of siege-engines; how many myriads of men and battalions could have accomplished those things which we achieved by prayers alone, and which God brought to pass by His will? By His Word He dispelled darkness, by His Word He brought forth light, made firm the earth, vaulted the heavens, arranged the stars in order, spread abroad the air, set boundaries for the sea, drew forth rivers, gave life and soul to living creatures, fashioned man after His own image, and surrounded all things with adornment: by His Word, also, having dissolved the present darkness, He brought all things back into light and order and that same harmony. No longer do greedy and fraudulent demons hold power over things; no longer, under the guise of honor, is insult offered to creation while it is worshipped in place of God. Throw down now your Triptolemuses, and your Celeuses, and your mystical dragons. Be ashamed at last of the books of Orpheus, your theologian; use the benefit of the time, which covers over your shame. But if these are fables and inventions, I shall uncover the mysteries of your night.

XXXII. No longer does the oak speak; no longer does the cauldron prophesy; no longer is the Pythia filled—I know not with what—certainly with fables and ravings. Again ^C Castalia is silenced and is silent, and it is water that does not deliver oracles, but excites laughter; again the statue of Apollo is speechless; again Daphne is a tree lamented in ^D fables.

^A Again the androgynous Bacchus, dragging along the chorus of the drunken, and thy great mystery, the Phallus, and a god prone to passion for the fair Prosymnus; again Semele is struck by the thunderbolt; again club-footed Vulcan, yet swift in the detection of adulterers, and a god begrimed with soot, though a famous craftsman, and an Olympian Thersites; again Mars, shackled for adultery with Panic and Fear and the din of battle, and wounded because of his rashness; again Venus, a harlot both in her shameful origins and as a minister of shameful marriages; again Minerva is a virgin, and brings forth a dragon; again Hercules is mad, or rather, has ceased from his madness; ^B again Jupiter becomes everything for the sake of lust and uncleanness, he, I say, the counselor and prince of the gods, and one having such power that he alone draws all the gods upward with all existing things, yet he himself is not drawn down by any of them. Again, the tomb of Zeus is pointed out in Crete. As often as I see thy "Lucrius" (God of Gain), and "Logius" (God of Eloquence), and "Enagonius" (God of the Games), I cover my eyes and pass by thy god out of shame for the spectacle; but as for thee, thou art free to worship the contention of speech and the sacred purse. The only thing in thy rites that merits veneration is the honors which are paid ^C by the Egyptians to the Nile through androgynes, and the Isides, and the Mendesian gods, and the Apises, and all the rest of those composite and outlandish beasts which thou inventest or writest about. I laugh at thy Pan, and thy Priapus, and thy Hermaphroditus, and those gods mutilated or mangled by madness. But these things I shall leave to the stage and to the poets who adorn them; I, however, shall bring my discourse to a close with an exhortation. ^D

XXXIII. Men and women together, young and old, as many of you as have been admitted to this sanctuary, and as many of you as occupy the lower ground, all of you, in short, whom the Lord has redeemed—formerly from error and impiety, and now from the insults and oppression of the nations, and from the evils already present and those to be expected—hearken to the speech of a man who has been not moderately instructed in such matters, both from the events that occur daily and from the histories of old, and from books, and from deeds. It is indeed a great thing to have tasted of no hardships; yet perhaps it is not even a great thing, if this saying is true, that "whom the Lord loves He disciplines, and scourges every son whom He receives, and of whom He takes care." But it is truly a great thing not to have failed at the very beginning, or not to...

^A have touched even the beginnings of sin, since God has appointed a state of life entirely free from sin as something above human nature. The next best thing, as it seems to me, is that when we have been chastised for some committed sin, and have been subsequently released and treated with greater indulgence, we should at least remain within the awareness of the discipline, and avoid a second scourge for a second sin.

XXXIV. Therefore, let us also seriously acknowledge the divine chastisement. Let us show ourselves worthy, not of what we suffered at first, but of what we have obtained afterward. Let us offer some apology regarding the calamity that has seized us, namely, that we were not handed over to the nations as criminals and wicked men, but were disciplined as sons. Let us not forget the storm in the calm, nor the disease in health, nor the captivity now that we have returned safely to Jerusalem, nor Egypt after Egypt. Let us not make the time of affliction better than the time of tranquility; and we would indeed do so if, while we were formerly humble and moderate, and had all our hopes raised toward heaven, we ^B now become puffed up and softened, and run back to the same sins for which we were led into the calamities that have befallen us. "Not so, my sons, not so," as the priest Eli somewhere says, rebuking his own sons who were sinning against God; but knowing that it is an easier matter to recall prosperity that has departed than to preserve that which has come by the grace of God (for the former is brought back by prudence and moderation, whereas the latter is dissipated by negligence); and furthermore, knowing that sick bodies are indeed relieved by remedies and fasting, and are restored to health, but once restored, through carelessness and gluttony, they slowly flow back again and relapse into the same diseases. Having these things proved and well-tested, and teaching one another, let us come to ourselves and spend this time prudently and temperately.

XXXV. And first, brothers, let us celebrate ^C the feast, not with the splendor of the body, nor with changes and magnificence of dress, nor with banquets and drunkenness, the fruit of which you have learned to be chambers and acts of lewdness; nor let us wreath the streets with flowers, nor disgrace our tables and vestibules with the foulness of ointments, nor let us adorn the thresholds with the sensible [world].

^A Let the houses be illuminated with light, and let them not be made to ring with flute-playing and noise; for this is the custom of the Gentile new moon festival. But let us not honor God with these things, nor let us elevate the present season with things that are not at all becoming; but rather with purity of soul, and gladness of mind, and with lamps that illuminate the whole body of the Church—I mean divine contemplations and thoughts—raised up upon the sacred candlestick, and illuminating the whole world. ^B All those lights which men kindle, both privately and publicly, while celebrating a festival, are small in my judgment if compared with this light. I have also an ointment, but it is one with which only priests and kings are anointed, being varied and costly, and poured out for our sake, but compounded by the art of a great perfumer. Would that it might be my lot to offer the fragrance of this ointment to God! I have also a table, this spiritual and divine one, which the Lord has prepared for me in the presence of those who afflict me, at which I am refreshed and find delight, and I do nothing insolent because of the abundance; but rather I lull to sleep every uprising of the passions. ^C I have also flowers, more blossoming and more durable than all the flowers of spring, from the field that is full, which the Lord has blessed: the sacred and sweet-smelling shepherds and teachers, and all that is pure and excellent among the people. With these I desire to be wreathed and to hold a procession, having fought the good fight, and having finished the course, and kept the faith, according to the holy Apostle. Let us take up hymns instead of timbrels, psalmody instead of shameful contortions and songs, a shout of thanksgiving instead of theatrical applause, and a sonorous movement of the hands; contemplation instead of laughter; rational discourse instead of drunkenness; modest seriousness instead of wantonness. ^D And if you must dance, as one who is celebrating a feast and loves the festival, dance, but not the shameful dance of Herodias, the outcome of which is the death of the Baptist; but [dance] like David before the resting of the ark,

which I consider to be a mystery of the nimble and versatile journey according to God. This is the first and greatest part of my exhortation.

^A XXXVI. As for the second point, I do not doubt that most people will not readily accept what I am about to say—for we see that by custom, when a man finds himself in a position to retaliate, especially if he has a just cause for anger on account of what he has suffered, he is least inclined to listen to the reins of reason that would check his spirit—yet it is still worthy of being heard and accepted. Let us not use the opportunity immoderately or insolently; let us not riot in the license that comes with power; let us not show ourselves bitter and harsh toward those who have wronged us; let us not do the very things we previously condemned. But let us gain this one fruit from the change of circumstances: that by avoiding the troubles and bitterness, we abhor anything that looks like retaliation. For it should be considered a sufficiently great punishment for men who are upright and moderate that those who have caused pain are shaken with fear, expecting the retribution they deserve and being tormented by the torture of their own conscience. For what a man fears he will suffer ^B as if he were about to suffer it, he has already suffered, even if he does not actually undergo it; and perhaps he is tormented more by himself than by those who are meant to inflict the punishment. Therefore, let us not be persuaded to measure out our anger, nor let us seem to be lesser avengers than the situation warrants; but since we cannot exact the whole of it, let us forgive the whole. By doing this, let us become superior and higher than those who have wronged us. Let us show what the demons teach them, and what, on the other hand, Christ instructs us—who, while He possesses glory and splendor through the things He has suffered, has nonetheless overcome not less by that which, being able to do, He did not do. Let us offer this one thing to God as a token of gratitude; let us increase the mystery with kindness; let us use the opportunity for this purpose.

XXXVII. Let us overcome those by whom we have been tyrannized with gentleness; and may kindness especially lead us to forgive, and [may] the power of the commandment, which returns the same kindness to us in matters in which we ourselves are in need. For by the measure with which we measure, we know that it shall be measured back to us. But if anyone is of an extremely bitter and difficult disposition, let us leave those who have harmed us to God and to the future tribunal; let us not diminish anything of the future punishment by our own hand. Let us not conceive of the confiscation of property, let us not drag them before the judges’ benches, let us not banish them from their ancestral homes, let us not punish them with lashes, nor, to put it briefly, let us do any of those things which we have suffered. Rather, let us make them more gentle

^A and kinder through our example, if that be at all possible. If anyone has had a son suffer, or a father, or a wife, a kinsman, a friend, or any other person dear to us, let us provide that to each of them there is a reward for their suffering, by persuading them to bear patiently what they have endured; we can grant them nothing greater than this. Shall I also mention the greatest of the benefits we receive? Those who have persecuted us are being cried out against by the masses and by cities—in theaters, in the marketplaces, and in public assemblies. The old is praised, the new is branded with infamy, and—which is truly paradoxical—even by those who were their very partners in persecution, the gods themselves are being cast down from on high with loud outcries, as having deceived them for a long time, and now at last their fraud has been exposed; ^B and he who was a worshiper yesterday is a reviler today. What greater thing than this could we demand? For the present, these things perhaps seem small to the wretched. But the time will come when I shall see my revilers, and the great leader of them all, bewailing their own wickedness, when all iniquity shall be judged and brought to the test.

XXXVIII. I leave aside divine and our own [Christian] punishments, and the lashes that lie in store for them from that quarter; but come now, turn your attention to your own discourses and terrors—those which please not only poets but also philosophers—your Pyriphlegethon, and your Cocytuses, and your Acherons, through which they punish injustice: Tantalus, Tityus, and Ixion. Julian, the emperor of your faction, will be numbered with them, ^C and indeed, according to my own reckoning and decree, he will be numbered before them—not, indeed, enduring the torment of thirst in earthly pools that rise up to his chin, nor, as the tragedy would have it, fearing a great stone hanging over his neck, which, just as it is always being pushed upward, so it also always slips back downward; nor paying this penalty, as he is whirled about with a great rush upon a shrieking wheel, nor having his liver devoured by birds, never failing, but always being replenished—whether these things are truth or fable, clearly indicating the truth through these inventions; but we shall see to what manner of [punishment he will be subject].

and how far more severe these will be, if indeed retributions and punishments are meted out according to the measure of the sins committed.

XXXIX. This shall be your "hospitable gift for a foot," ^B most excellent and wise man (to address you in your own words). This is what we—who were excluded from speech and writing by your great and wondrous law—send to you. Do you see that we were not, in the end, to remain silent, nor were we to be deprived of speech and writing by your decrees, but rather that we should at last send forth a free voice that would refute your stupidity? For just as the cataracts of the Nile falling from Ethiopia into Egypt cannot be checked by any art, nor can a sunbeam, even if it be obscured for a short time by a cloud; so too, the tongue of Christians cannot be hindered from attacking and exposing your affairs. This, Basil and Gregory, the adversaries and rivals of your enterprise, send to you—even though you yourself thought, and tried to persuade others, that by the threats you made you were honoring us and sharpening us more keenly toward piety. Knowing well that we were already famous and renowned—from our earliest days in Greece—for our life, our speech, and our mutual concord, you nevertheless treated us with "Cyclopean honor," reserving us for the last of the persecution, and perhaps devising us as a great and magnificent triumphal gift for the demons, should we receive you returning from Persia, or hoping, in your wicked conceit, to drag us down together with you into your abyss.

XL. For we are not more cowardly than those youths ^C who were bedewed in the flames, and who conquered wild beasts through faith, and who—with a brave mother and a still braver priest—eagerly exposed themselves to dangers; and they made it plain and clear that faith is the one thing of all others that cannot be overcome by any force. Or are we less brave than those youths in your own time, one of whom, having insulted the mother of your gods and scattered her altar, was brought forth as a condemned man?

^A He entered, however, as a victor; and having mocked your purple and your words as calculating and ridiculous, he departed with greater boldness, just as if someone were returning from a dinner and a splendid banquet. But the other, his entire body lacerated to the bone by whips, and still breathing faintly from his wounds, was so far from yielding to the tortures or considering any of those present to be grievous, that when he saw some part of his body left untouched by the blows, he blamed the torturers themselves as being insulting, in that they had not honored his whole body but had left some part unlacerated and unholy; and at the same time, he pointed to his shin as the only part that had escaped the claws, and ordered them not to spare even that.

^B XLI. This oration of yours, consisting of Porphyry’s falsehoods and ravings, in which you exult as if in divine oracles, or your *Misopogon*—or *Antiochicus*, for you title your oration in both ways—is in no wise less vile and contemptible among Christians. That oration of yours, the purple once rendered great, as did the flatterers who exalted all your works to the heavens; but now it is mere beard, being corrupted and torn, and together with those by whom it was composed, it is mocked. In it, you puff yourself up greatly, as if telling of something wondrous, because of your frugal and by no means superfluous diet and manner of life, and the fact that you never contracted indigestion from overeating. But that you vexed the Christians so bitterly, and crushed and nearly consumed so great and so sacred a race, you deliberately pass by. Yet, if one man suffered from indigestion or emitted natural belches, what harm did the republic suffer from that? But when such a persecution has been stirred up, and such a great confusion has been innovated, how is it not entirely necessary for the affairs of the Romans to fare badly, just as they evidently have fared?

perturbation having been induced, how is it possible that the affairs of the Romans are not all in a bad state, just as they are also seen to have been?

XLII. ^A This is the pillar from us, loftier and more conspicuous than the pillars of Hercules. For those are fixed in only one place, and can be seen only by those who travel there; but this one, being in motion, cannot but be known and manifest everywhere and to all: a pillar which, believe me, future time will also take up, exposing you and your crimes, and instructing and admonishing all the rest not to dare any such rebellion against God, lest, by doing the same things, they also receive the same recompense.

ADMONITION REGARDING ORATION VI

I. Gregory, the father of our Theologian, a man otherwise most excellent and a very diligent defender of the true Catholic religion, not perceiving the frauds of the Arians owing to his simplicity, had benevolently received certain individuals infected with this poison and had subscribed to a certain impious opinion of theirs. This matter stirred the minds of the monks with such indignation that they immediately withdrew from his communion, and by their example drew a great part of the people with them. From this, a very wide path was opened for the Arians to oppose the Catholics; and the evil would have crept much further, had not the care of our Theologian withstood it, and had not the father, Gregory himself, openly professed his faith and requested that whatever he had committed in that matter through imprudence be pardoned. Then the monks easily returned to favor with their bishop. Peace having therefore been established, our Gregory delivered this oration, in which he first renders the reasons for his duty, and, opportunity being given, very elegantly describes the form of monastic life; then, for the benefit received, he gives thanks to God; and, to inflame the Nazianzen people with a greater desire for concord, he sets forth the praises and advantages of peace, and by comparing them with the inconveniences of discord, he amplifies them in a wonderful manner. Afterward, he exhorts them not to separate themselves so easily hereafter from the society of their erring brethren, but rather to correct them with human and fraternal charity. Finally, congratulating his father on the return of the monks, he concludes the oration with the Catholic confession of the Trinity.

II. But Gregory begins this oration thus: "I loosen my tongue, and for the sake of the Spirit’s law, I ignore human law; and the sermon, which I have not yet yielded to anyone, I offer as a gift to peace." These last words: "which I have not yet yielded to anyone," have led a man who is not otherwise unlearned 43 into error, so that he believed this to be the first of all of Gregory’s orations, although it is certain that the twin invectives *Against Julian* were written at the time of the Nazianzen schism 44. Furthermore, we have demonstrated by invincible arguments, if we are not mistaken, that the oration *On Pascha* and the *Oration on the departure into Pontus* had been delivered even then, and the orations themselves speak to this effect. Therefore, when Gregory says that he "had not yet yielded a sermon to anyone," he is speaking of nothing other than the time in which "the tunic of Christ was torn," to use his words, or rather, "the body was lacerated," and pain, like a cloud, obscured the rays of his speech; hence, the serenity of peace having been restored, he cast aside his silence and delivered the oration before the people.

III. The most learned Tillemont thinks a little differently, though he himself also places the oration in question in this same order. For, fearful of relegating the Nazianzen schism to after Gregory’s priesthood, he leans almost to the point of believing that the "sermon not yet yielded to anyone" was a sermon "yielded" by Gregory prior to that one. To us, however, there seems to be no difficulty here, since in the *Life of Gregory*, we have proved by most valid arguments that the schism of the Nazianzen Church did not arise until after the Theologian had been ordained a presbyter. But it is not easy to define at what time the beginning of this mournful schism occurred. It is certain, however, that there was no discord in the Nazianzen Church when Gregory delivered his first three orations. For the happy and most loving gift of peace and concord was still flourishing in the year 362, and all were joined by the bond of mutual charity. Therefore, the monks’ schism emerged within the end of the year 363 45. For upon the conclusion of this same year, it had already broken out when Gregory was writing his first invective in the Pontic solitude, and it seems to have persisted until the beginnings of the following year, 364. It lasted for a short and brief time, or, to speak with Gregory, "in order that through the dissension, those dissenting might understand the good of peace."

NOTICE ON ORATION VI

ORATIO VI

First on Peace, for the reconciliation of the monks, after silence, in the presence of his father.

^A I. Alacrity loosens my tongue, and for the sake of the law of the Spirit I despise human law; and to Peace I offer the speech which I have not yet allowed to any. For when before this, our members were at variance, and that great and precious Body of Christ was divided and rent asunder, so that our bones were nearly scattered even more than by the nether world, just as the depths of the earth are cut by the plow and cast about upon the ground; and when that seamless and indivisible garment, woven from the top throughout, had already been torn into many pieces, and that wicked one had wholly claimed it for himself—having succeeded through us ^B in what he could by no means achieve through those who crucified Christ—then indeed I set a guard upon my lips, and not otherwise, being eager concerning speech, because I deemed it the sequence of the spiritual order first to purify myself by the philosophy of action, then, having opened the mouth of my mind, to draw in the Spirit, and then at last to belch forth a good word, and to speak the perfect wisdom of God among the perfect; and just as for every thing, both small and great, there is a time—for that saying of Solomon ^C is excellent and most carefully considered—so I knew that there is a time for speech and a time for silence, if any other did.

^B II. For this reason I was deaf and humbled, having become far removed from all good; and as a certain cloud, entering my heart, covered the ray of speech, and my pain was renewed night and day. And all things were to me fuel and reminders of the separation of the brethren: vigils, fasts, prayers, tears, ^D calloused knees, beatings of the breast,

^A a sigh rising from the depths, a night-long standing, the soul’s departure toward God, a delicate lament in prayer, a medicine of compunction for those who hear, those chanting, those glorifying, those meditating on the law of the Lord day and night, those who bear the exaltations of God in their throats: and these are indeed the beautiful marks and indications of the life according to God, the silent heralds—the unkempt and filthy hair, feet bare and following the apostolic path, carrying nothing dead, a measured haircut, a garment chastening pride, a girdle elegant in its simplicity, drawing the tunic up a little, yet so as not to seem to be drawing it up, a steady gait, an eye that does not wander, a gentle smile, or rather a movement of the mouth that checks the petulance of laughter, discourse proceeding from reason, silence more precious than speech, praise seasoned with salt, not directed toward flattery but toward the guidance of the better, ^B a rebuke more desirable than praise, a measure of mourning and relaxation, and the blending and temperament of both; softness tempered by fortitude, severity tempered by modesty, so that neither is harmed by its opposite, but each attains praise through the working of the other; the measure of both going forth into the common life and withdrawing, the former to instruct others, the latter so that they themselves might be imbued with the mysteries of the Spirit; and thus both, so as to keep solitude in the common life, and brotherly benevolence and charity in solitude; and things greater and more sublime than these still: wealth in poverty, possession in pilgrimage, glory in contempt, power in infirmity, fruitfulness in celibacy (if indeed the births according to God are better than those that take their rise from the flesh): those who do not study delights but hold them as delights, who are humble for the sake of the kingdom of heaven, ^C who have nothing in the world and exist above the world, who live outside the flesh even while in the flesh, to whom the Lord is a portion, who labor in destitution for the sake of the kingdom, and who reign on account of their destitution.

III. These men, I say, my splendid and preeminent delights, both rendered me brilliant and illustrious when present, and contracted me with sorrow when absent. These things weighed upon my soul and troubled it. Hence I was walking along mourning and sorrowful. For this reason, along with other pleasant things, I also cast aside speech: since my beloved have kicked against me, ^D and have turned their backs to me and not their faces, and have become a flock[...]

^A more savage than their shepherd, not to say more wanton; for the true vine and that most beautifully pruned by the good husbandman, and which used to bring forth a beautiful vintage into the divine wine-presses, has been turned for me into bitterness; for my friends and my neighbors have drawn near ^B and stood over against me, and those who were close to me stood afar off; for we, who greatly loved God and were lovers of Christ, have divided Christ, and for the sake of the truth we have mutually slandered one another, and for the sake of love we have practiced hatred, and for the sake of the cornerstone we have been dissolved, and for the sake of the rock we have been shaken; for we have fought for peace more than was fitting, and for the sake of him who was lifted up on the wood we have been brought low, and for the sake of him who was buried and rose again we have been put to death.

IV. ^C But these things belong to an earlier time; and what need is there for anyone in a time of gladness to stir up unpleasantness, dwelling upon sorrowful things, of which the experience is to be detested, but the memory itself is to be avoided? Silence is better than speech, covering over that which has befallen us in the depths of oblivion; unless someone should think it right to stir up the memory of bitter things for this one reason alone, that we may be instructed by the example, and as in cases of illness avoid the causes from which we were led into these things. But now, since pain and grief and groaning have fled; since we who are of the One have become one, and those who are of the Trinity ^D are conjoined, and of one soul, and equal in honor; those who are of the Word are free from unreason; those who are of the Spirit are not boiling against one another, but are fervent together with one another; those who are of the Truth are of the same mind and speech; those who are of Wisdom are sensible; those who are of the Light are behaving themselves honestly as in the day; those who are of the Way are all walking straight; those who are of the Door are all within; those who are of the Sheep and of the Shepherd are meek, and of the same fold, and of one shepherd; not a shepherd who feeds the flock in vessels of infinite greed, nor one who destroys the sheep of the pasture, nor one who delivers them to the wolves and to the precipices, but one who is exceedingly watchful and knowing; since we have become compassionate like him who suffered for us, and are lifting one another's burdens; we who are of the Head, are a body ^A fitted together and compacted by every connection which is in the Spirit; since he who does all things and changes them for the better has turned our mourning into joy, and has given us gladness instead of sackcloth, I strip away these things along with the past

^A and I offer to the present occasion and to you—or rather to God—a testimony of a grateful spirit, a sacrifice most appropriate, a gift purer than gold, more precious than costly stones, more magnificent than woven fabrics, holier than the legal sacrifice, more sacred than the firstfruits of the firstborn, pleasing to God more than a young bull, imperfect in its horns and hoofs and lacking sense, more than incense, more than a burnt offering, more than many thousands of fat rams, by which the rudimentary Law held Israel, while still a child, foreshadowing the future through blood-stained sacrifices.

V. This I offer to God, this I dedicate and consecrate, the one thing that remains for me, the one thing by which I am rich. For I have left other things behind for the commandment and for the Spirit; I have exchanged the precious pearl for all those things I once had, and I have become a great merchant—or rather, I pray to become one—who for small and entirely perishable things has bought great and eternal ones. I embrace only the Word, as a minister of the Word, and I would never willingly neglect this possession; nay, I hold it in high esteem, I cherish it, and I take greater pleasure in it than in all ^B other things combined in which the many take delight. And I adopt it as the companion of my whole life, a good counselor and table-companion, a guide on the path leading to heaven, and a ready fellow-soldier. And because I despise every joy that is set upon the earth, all my love after God is poured out into this; or rather, into this as well, because it leads with understanding toward God, by whom alone God is truly perceived, preserved, and grows within us. I said to Wisdom: "You are my sister," and I honored her, and embraced her as far as I was able; and I seek for my head the crown of graces and delights, that is, the gifts of wisdom and of the reason implanted in us, that part which holds the sovereignty within us, and illuminates our steps according to God. ^C

VI. With this I curb the onset of anger, with this I quiet the envy that wastes the heart, with this I soothe sorrow, that bond of the heart, with this I restrain the excess of pleasure, with this I measure hatred, but not friendship; for the former must be measured, but one should recognize no limit to the latter. This makes me, when abounding in wealth, modest, and when poor, brave and magnanimous; ^D this persuades me, when running well, to keep running, and

when falling, to reach out a hand, and to suffer with the weak, and to rejoice with the strong. ^A With this, both my own country and a foreign land are the same to me, and the change of place is a change of things foreign, but not of my own. This divides the worlds for me, moving me away from one and adding me to another. This leads me through the armor of righteousness on the right hand, so that I am not puffed up; and even in the left and harsher things, it philosophizes with me, yoking to me the hope that does not put to shame, and lightening the present by the future. With this, I now greet my friends and brothers, and I propose a rational table ^B and a spiritual, perpetual chalice—not those with which the table below flatters the belly that is being destroyed and cannot be cured.

VII. I have kept silence; shall I also be silent forever? I have endured like a woman in labor; shall I endure forever? For John, when born, loosened the silence for Zechariah; for it was not fitting for the father of the Voice to be silent when that Voice had come forth. But just as, when he lacked faith, it bound his tongue, so when he was revealed, it was equitable that it give back liberty to the father to whom it had been announced; and he was born as a voice and a lamp, the forerunner of the Word and the Light. But for me, this present benefit loosens the tongue and raises the voice like a trumpet, and this most beautiful theater—the children of God who were once dispersed, now gathered into one, and resting under the same wings, ^C and walking into the house of God with consenting minds, and tuned to one harmony of the good and of the Spirit. For we no longer fight against one another in word or deed, having been so deceived or constrained by the evil one, and transfixed in that darkness which he himself stirred up in our minds; and I know not what word to use, but that we even rejoiced in each other’s evils, and did not consider the destruction of one another to be the loss of the whole; when Judas and Israel set for themselves one beginning, and Jerusalem and Samaria are gathered toward the one Jerusalem above, and we are no longer of Paul, and of Apollos, and of Cephas, ^D for whom and against whom pride was felt, but we have all become of Christ.

^A VIII. But since you have me, and the word, and have constrained me—though not against my will, yet through love—I shall speak, albeit with difficulty, since you command it; and I shall speak words of thanksgiving and admonition. The thanksgiving is of this kind: "Who shall declare the mighty acts of the Lord? And who shall show forth all praise in the hearing of all?" For he has made both one, and the middle wall of the partition has been broken down; because you have caused us to be no longer a byword among the nations, a shaking of the head among the peoples; because you have afflicted us just so much as to enable us to perceive the good of peace through division, and by inflicting pain, you have restored us to our former state. O the miraculous nature of the healing! Having schooled us toward peace through the very hatred that was loathed ^B as quickly as possible, and having ordered the contrary by the contrary, and having separated us only so far that we might run toward one another with more fervent spirits; much like plants that, if they are pulled in different directions by the force of hands and are then released, run back again toward themselves and their primary nature, and show what is proper to them, that they are bent by force, but rise up again of their own accord; because now the hand does not despise the eye, nor the eye the hand; because the head no longer rises up against the feet, nor are the feet alienated from the head—not so much inflicting as suffering detriment from the perturbation of order and authority, which confuses and overturns the whole body—but by the order and law of nature, which has bound and preserved all things in mutual connection, the members have the same care one for another ^C in the order and rule of nature, by which he has bound and preserved all things in union. And we have appeared as one body and one spirit, even as we have been called in one hope of our calling.

IX. Therefore, the poor people shall praise you, having become rich from being in want; because you have made your mercies wonderful toward us, and something has been added to the ancient tellings. For where sin abounded, grace did much more abound; because, having sown a seed, I have gathered sheaves; because, mourning for sheep, I have acquired shepherds; and I shall join—I know well—the most precious of shepherds.

^A Since—although he defers the pastoral office for certain spiritual reasons—having been entrusted with the Spirit and the administration of the talents and the care of the flock, and having been anointed with the oil of priesthood and perfection, he still delays the oversight out of wisdom, and keeps the lamp under a bushel (which he will soon place ^B upon the lampstand, to illuminate the entire soul of the Church and to be a light to our paths), and continues to survey the wooded valleys, and mountains, and springs, and to devise snares for the wolves that ravage souls, in order that at the appropriate time he may also receive the staff and shepherd this rational flock together with the true Shepherd, dwelling in a place of pasture—that is, in the eternally flourishing words of God—and rearing them with the water of repose, that is, the Spirit; this we both hope and pray for. But for me, it is ^C already time to add an exhortation to this thanksgiving; and I shall make this, too, as brief as possible, since you have already anticipated the better part of the admonition by your own deeds, and those whom experience itself has taught have no need of longer speeches.

X.

X.

nature and of human frailty, which touches everyone, even those who are most robust in body and mind; but that we have been healed and restored to one another is the work of reason and divine grace, which settled our case beautifully and justly, and better than we ourselves had wished or others had hoped.

XI. For we ourselves received with joy the articles given to the party, as though they were innovations for the sake of piety and designed to assist the right doctrine which was struggling, and we did not turn away from them as enemies, but embraced them as brothers who had struggled fraternally—though not maliciously—for a paternal inheritance, yet not with evil intent. While we by no means praised their dissension, we did commend their zeal; for a disagreement that arises for the sake of piety is better than an unhealthy concord. ^B And therefore we made our own addition an abatement, stealing away by love the suspicion against us, and changing the order only so far as to ensure that grace followed not by, but rather after, the election, and that the election followed grace; and by using other hands for this matter, we were briefly anticipated by the Spirit. You, on the other hand, having cast aside that dark suspicion which that document could have provoked, ran to the Spirit; and while you did not approve of our simplicity in the sense that the words offered on the surface, you never charged us with impiety. Rather, you had perceived that the Trinity remained firm and immovable among us, no less than in its own nature, and that to us it was one and the same thing to cut off or alienate any one of these three as it was to remove the whole, and ^C to attack the Divinity with a bare head. And these things we proclaimed about ourselves—even while the dispute itself was raging—sometimes even before other men, which was indeed the greatest proof of the truth: that it was not conquered even by time, nor did enmity entirely extinguish the spark of charity that was in us. For even while we were in disagreement, that which was greatest remained with us, namely, a sameness of belief, and the awareness that we were not unequally yoked regarding the truth, nor were we disposed in opposition to one another, but were fashioned by the same character of faith and of our original hope.

^B XII. For nothing so strongly disposes those who worship God with a sincere heart to harmony among themselves as a consensus of doctrine concerning God; just as, on the contrary, nothing is so ready and prepared for discord as a difference of opinion in this matter. For even he who in other respects is most equitable and easy-going becomes most fervent in this, and the truly gentle man becomes a combatant when he sees that he is suffering loss in his reverence for God, or rather—to speak more correctly—when he sees that by his own downfall he is causing damage to God, who makes us both rich and possesses the riches. Thus, therefore, as I have said, we have behaved ourselves more moderately even in the very midst of contention; so much so that our harmony has become clearer by this very separation, and what occurred in the middle has been almost caught and obscured by the things that have turned out favorable and happy on both sides. But since the speed of peace is not sufficient for stability, unless some discourse that may hold this [peace] also appears, and God, from whom every good thing takes its beginning and is brought to its end, comes to assist the discourse, come, let us confirm it with all our strength, both by prayers and by reasoning: considering, first, that God is the most beautiful and most sublime of all things that exist, unless one prefers to place Him above all essence, or to place in Him—whatever that may be—all things, as it is from Him that other things also have received their being; and then, that all those things which are first from God and around God—I mean the angelic and heavenly powers, which, as the first to draw from the first Light and illuminated by the word of truth, are themselves light and rays of that perfect Light. To these, moreover, nothing is so proper as the ignorance of fights and discords. For neither is there discord in the Deity, just as there is no resolution: for resolution is the offspring of discord; but He is so concordant and peaceful both with Himself and with things inferior to Him, that besides other names—or rather before other names—by which God rejoices to be called, He is invoked with this prerogative also. For He is called Peace and Charity ^C and names of that kind, in order that He might remind us through those very words to strive to acquire those virtues which are proper to God.

XIII. But among the angels, he who dared to stir up sedition, and to exalt himself beyond his worth against the Lord Almighty, and to stiffen his neck, and to devise for himself a seat above the clouds, as the word of the prophet ^D testifies, paid a penalty worthy of his arrogance, being condemned to darkness instead of light, or, to speak more truly, under...

^A a mist created by his own self. The rest, however, remain in their own dignity, the first element of which is that they are at peace and free from discord, inasmuch as they have received this from the praiseworthy and holy Trinity, from whom they have also received illumination. For even That is one God and is believed to be so, not less on account of Its concord than on account of the identity of Its essence. Therefore, all those who embrace the good of peace, and intensely hate its opposite, discord and sedition, draw near to God and to the divine minds; but those who are warlike in their ways, and who grasp at fame through novelty, and glory in their own ignominy, embrace the opposing side. For he also both fights with himself, and works this same thing in others, both by a manifold appearance and by vicious passions (being, as he is, a murderer from the beginning and an enemy of the good), so that he may secretly pierce the common body of the Church ^B, hiding himself under the mist of sedition; just as, if I am not mistaken, he approaches each one of us for the most part captiously and craftily, and as it were stealingly opening a place for himself, so that he may break in completely, just like some energetic and strong warrior into an army, through a broken part of a wall or a hostile battle line.

XIV. And this is one thing, and indeed such a thing, that it ought necessarily to lead us to the pursuit of benevolence and concord, namely, the imitation of God and of the beings above; towards which it is safe for the soul, created in the image of God, to look, so that it may, as much as possible, keep its nobility intact through its inclination toward them, and as far as is attainable, their imitation. ^C But the second is this: that, obeying the divine voice, we should look upward to heaven and downward to the earth, and study the laws of created things. For the heaven, and the earth, and the sea, and this whole universe—this great and famous element of God, by which God is also declared and is proclaimed by a silent voice—as long as it is at peace and tranquil within itself, and keeps itself within the bounds of its own nature, and nothing rises up against another, nor departs from those bonds of benevolence by which the Word as Craftsman has bound the whole together, it is truly a world, as it is called, and an incomparable beauty, nor will anyone ever imagine any work, at least of those things which consist of matter, more brilliant ^D or more magnificent. But as soon as it ceases to be at peace, it also ceases to be a world. For does it not seem to you that the heaven is orderlily joined with the air and the earth,

^A the one granting light, the other rain, held fast by the law of benevolence? And does not the earth and the air—the one providing food, the other the ability to breathe, granting life to all living things—seem to imitate the affection of parents toward their children?

XV. Is it not manifest that the parts of the year, when they mingle gently and gradually make way for one another, and tame the asperity of the extremes by their moderation, are governed conveniently and peaceably for the utility and pleasure of men? And what of day and night, to which it has fallen by lot to have equal parts with one another and a measured rotation, the one rousing us to work, the other refreshing and restoring us with rest? What of the sun and the moon, and the beauty and multitude of the stars, appearing and departing in order? And the sea and the earth, gently mingling with one another, and bestowing their bounties in kindness, and receiving them in turn, feeding man in his humanity, and supplying him with what they have, ^B richly and generously? What of the rivers, drawn through mountains and plains, and not overflowing, unless it serves a useful purpose, nor turning back to cover the earth? What of the mixtures and blends of the elements, and the symmetries and harmonies of the limbs? What of the food, the births, and the separate dwellings of animals? And of those things that rule and those that are ruled, and those things that are subject to us, and those that are free? Since all these things are thus, and are directed and managed according to the primary causes of the harmony—or rather, current and sympathy—what else should one deem them to be but heralds of friendship and concord, legislating for men by their own example that consensus of soul?

XVI. But when matter dissents with itself, ^C and cannot be contained, meditating its destruction through sedition, or God loosens some part of this harmony to strike fear into sinners or to punish them—whether by the sea receding, or the earth quaking, or strange rains being sent down, or the sun being obscured, or a season exceeding its measure, or fire pouring forth—then disorder arises, and fear concerning the whole universe, and the good of peace is demonstrated by the discord. And to pass over the peoples, and cities, and kingdoms, further...

to pass over the assemblies, the armies, the families, the ships full of passengers, the marriages, and the clubs—all of which, as they are preserved by peace, so are they utterly overturned by discord—I will turn my discourse to the Israelites. And after I have set before you their calamities and the dispersion by which they are now driven from their own homes to lead a wandering and miserable life—and which, as the prophecies concerning them handed down to me make me believe, will pursue them for a very long time—then at last I will inquire of you, who perfectly know what is the cause of these calamities, so that we may learn concord from the misfortunes of others.

^B XVII. So long, therefore, as they had peace both with one another and with God—having been oppressed, that is to say, by the Egyptian tyranny, the "iron furnace," and united and gathered together through their common affliction (for sometimes affliction itself is a beneficial remedy for salvation)—they were called a holy people, a portion of the Lord, and a royal priesthood. Nor can it be said that these names were indeed great and magnificent, but that the realities by no means corresponded to the names. For they were led by leaders guided by God, and were led by day and by night by a pillar of fire and a cloud; the sea divided for them as they fled, the heavens provided food for those suffering from hunger, the rock provided the use of a fountain for those who were thirsty, and the stretching out of hands for those who were fighting was equivalent to countless hosts, as it raised trophies through the work of prayer and opened a path forward. Rivers also, imitating their kindred sea, gave way; the elements stood still, and walls were shaken down by trumpets. And what need is there to recount the plagues of the Egyptians inflicted for their benefit, the voices of God heard from the mountain, the double law—the one literal, the other spiritual—and the other honors which Israel formerly obtained, far greater than their merits? But after they began to sicken, and to rage against one another, and to divide into many parts (the cross, of course, driving them to their final ruin, along with the madness they displayed against God and our Savior, failing to acknowledge his divinity in his humanity), and they drew upon themselves the iron rod—that is, the principality and empire which now holds the supremacy and was proclaimed to them long before—what happened? And what have they suffered? ^D XVIII. Jeremiah does indeed lament them for their earlier calamities and deplores the Babylonian captivity; for those things were indeed worthy of tears and groans. But what is not worthy of the greatest lamentations: walls razed, a city leveled to the ground, a sanctuary overthrown, votive offerings plundered, profane feet and hands—feet indeed rushing into places that could not be trodden, and

hands luxuriating in things that it was impious to touch—prophets silenced, priests carried away, elders denied mercy, virgins outraged, youth falling, fire alien and hostile, rivers of blood instead of the holy fire and blood, Nazarenes dragged away, lamentations substituted for hymns! And that I may produce something from the Lamentations of Jeremiah themselves: those illustrious children of Sion, worthy to be weighed against gold—I mean those delicate ones, immune to evil, treading an unaccustomed path—and the ways of Sion mourning because there are none who celebrate the feast days; and a little before this: the hands of compassionate women, in the rising of the siege, not offering food to their children, but rather tearing them apart to prepare food for themselves, and seeking medicine for the prevailing famine from their own dearest pledges. Are these things not grievous, and more than grievous, not only to those who then endured them, but also to those who now hear of them? For my part, as often as I take up this book and join myself to the Lamentations—which I do as often as I desire to discipline by reading a prosperous state of affairs—I feel my voice falter, I am overwhelmed with tears, the tragedy appears to come before my eyes, and I join in the lament of him who lamented. But who is there, among those who know how to write lamentations and to make their speech equal to the tragedy, who will sufficiently and worthily lament their final stroke, their displacement from their homes, the yoke of slavery now pressing upon their heads, and that famous humiliation under the Romans, for which nothing is so much the cause as sedition? What books will contain these things? ^B One column, assuredly, for this calamity of theirs is the whole world, throughout which they have been variously scattered and dispersed, and through which the divine worship has been compressed and extinguished, and the soil of Jerusalem itself—which is now scarcely recognized, and is revealed to them only to this extent, and they enjoy only so much of their former glory and magnitude—that they may be seen for a day to lament the desolation. ^C

XIX. Furthermore, since to labor under dissensions is so grievous and brings about so many evils, as the things mentioned show, and as it is possible to learn from many examples, then it is truly much more grievous that, once enmities have been laid aside and the goods of peace have been tasted, one should fall back into the same disease and return to one's own vomit, as the saying goes, and not be corrected even by experience itself, which is the schoolmistress of fools. For, indeed, that they incur the reputation of fickleness and folly... ^D

I find, not in those who persist in some wrong, but in those who are easily carried both ways and flow back and forth, like shifting breezes, or the changes and tides of the Euripus, or the unstable waves of the sea. I consider also this, that for those who are struggling with dissensions, the hope of concord, at least, brings consolation and, for the most part, relieves their calamities. For the hope of a change and a better state of affairs set before one's eyes is wont to bring the greatest aid to afflicted men. But those who have often returned to concord, yet always relapsed into vice, have, along with other things, been deprived of a better hope as well; so that they fear peace no less than dissension, and, because of the levity and inconstancy of both, put no confidence in either.

^B XX. Nor, indeed, let anyone suspect that these things are said by me to mean that every peace is to be loved and embraced; for I know that, as there is a certain very excellent dissension, so too there is a most pernicious concord; but only that which is good, and is entered into for the sake of what is good, and unites us to God. And that these may be explained by a brief distinction, this is my opinion: it is not good that anyone should be more sluggish or more fervent than is proper, such that, either through levity he acquiesces to everyone, or through rashness and insolence he removes himself from everyone. For both sluggishness is ineffective, and mobility and inconstancy are alien to social life and communion. But where impiety openly reveals itself, then indeed we must act so that we might be carried against fire and sword, and times, and princes, and, in short, against all other things at once, before we become participants in the evil leaven and give assent to those who are evilly affected: nor is anything to be feared as much as that we should fear anything more than God, and that, for this reason, we should perfidiously abandon the discourse of the faith ^C and of the truth, while serving the truth. But where it is mere suspicion that troubles our spirit, and a fear that is not sufficiently examined, then indeed it is better to employ mildness rather than haste, and indulgence rather than arrogance and stubbornness; and it is much better and more advantageous, while remaining in the common body, that we should correct and be corrected by one another, as members of one another, than that, by a prejudice made through secession, and by authority lost through separation, we should afterwards, as tyrants and not as brothers, dictate correction by edict.

XXI. Which things, when we have known and ^D explored them, brothers, let us embrace one another, let us kiss one another, let us truly be made one, and let us imitate Him who destroyed the middle wall of the partition, and through His own blood gathered all things together, and...

^A reconciled and pacified. Let us imitate Him. Let us say to this common Father, to this venerable gray hair, to this meek and gentle Pastor: Do you see the rewards of your reasonableness? Lift up your eyes round about, and see your gathered children, in the way you desired, and which you prayed for by night and by day alone, that you might conclude the days of your pilgrimage in a good old age. Behold, all have come to you, and rest beneath your wings, and surround their own altar, having departed with tears, indeed, but returning with joy. Rejoice and take delight, best of fathers and most loving of children, since you are clothed and wrapped in all of them, just as a bride [is adorned] with her ornaments. Speak you also to us: "Behold I and the children whom God has given me." Add also another voice of the Master, one very fitting: "Those whom Thou hast given me I have kept, and I have not lost one of them." ^B

XXII. And would that no one perish, but that we might all remain in one spirit, struggling together with one soul for the faith of the Gospel, like-minded, thinking the same thing, armed with the shield of faith, having girded our loins in truth, knowing only this one war, which is waged against that wicked one, and those who fight under his leadership and auspices: not fearing those who have the power to kill the body, but cannot take hold of the soul; but fearing Him who has right and authority over both body and soul; keeping the good deposit which we have received from the Fathers, worshipping the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit; knowing the Father in the Son, and the Son in the Spirit, into which we have been baptized, in which we have believed, to which we have pledged allegiance—not dividing them before we unite them, and not confounding them ^C (as if they were) without subsistence, or according to one subsistence, so that our wealth would be in names for us, and not in realities—and believing the three to be one. For they are one, not in subsistence, but in divinity; a Monad worshipped in Trinity, and a Trinity gathered into a Monad; all worshipful, all royal, co-throned, co-glorious, above the world, above time, uncreated, invisible, intangible, incomprehensible; having the order of its relations known to Itself alone, yet ^D equally venerable and worthy of adoration by us, and the only one entering into the Holy of Holies, while leaving all creation outside.

void of touch and comprehension, but according to the order which exists within itself—known only to itself, yet for us equally worthy of veneration and adoration—it is that which alone penetrates even into the Holy of Holies, while leaving all created things outside, separated and divided by a first and then a second veil: by the first, indeed, the celestial and angelic orders are set apart from the Deity; and by the second, our nature is separated from the celestial. Let us act in this way, brothers, and let us be of this mind; and those who think otherwise, as being a taint and corruption of the truth, let us, as far as it is permitted, take in and heal; but those who are suffering from an incurable disease, let us turn away from, lest we contract their sickness before we impart our own health to them. And the God of peace, that peace, I say, which surpasses all understanding, shall be with us, in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

MONITUM ON ORATION Oration VII

I. Caesarius, whose untimely death is the principal scope of this oration, was the youngest brother of Gregory the Theologian. Having set out from his father's house along with Gregory for the sake of his studies, he left his brother in the schools of Palestine and went to Alexandria (n. 6). There, in a short time, he acquired such skill in the mathematical arts and in medicine (n. 8) that the “royal city,” Constantinople, later admired it and wished to honor him with the public ornaments of dignity and the senatorial rank itself. But Caesarius, having spurned all these titles of honor, joined himself as a companion on the journey to his brother Gregory, who had departed from Athens and had come to that city, and returned to his homeland.

II. But when he had stayed there for some time, he returned again to Constantinople, where he “straightway obtained the first rank among physicians, and being held in the number of friends to the Emperor Constantius, was showered with the greatest honors (n. 10).” Nor was he held in less esteem by Julian, who, although he had ordered most of the administrators of his predecessor Constantius to be dismissed, did not in any way cast out Caesarius, who freely and publicly professed the faith of Christ in the presence of the Apostate. He became even more illustrious under the emperors Jovian and, subsequently, Valentinian and Valens. His prefecture, which he performed in Bithynia, was as it were a prelude to greater dignities, when the city of Nicaea was overturned by an earthquake. In this calamity, Caesarius himself was almost overwhelmed. But he escaped almost entirely unharmed, “protected,” I would more rightly say, by divine power from the ruin itself (n. 15).

III. Meanwhile, his parents and friends, who were saddened that he was involved in the affairs of the world, seized the occasion of this earthquake and began to urge him more vehemently to say farewell to the court and its dignities. Caesarius yielded to their wishes and signified by letter to his brother Gregory that he would abandon the court. But, alas! too swift a death encountered him from the opposite direction, and he who “had been superior to the earthquake was not so to the disease,” as Gregory writes (ibid.); from which scholars (Bar. ad an. 368; Bolland. ad diem 25 Febr.; Tillemontius) conclude that only a very brief space of time intervened between the earthquake and the death of Caesarius.

IV. These are the things by which Gregory, having amplified them oratorically, softens and relieves his own grief and that of his pious parents. Jerome counts this oration especially among the Gregorian orations (37). It is likely that it was delivered immediately after the death of Caesarius—that is, when his remains had been brought to Nazianzus and were interred in the tomb which his long-lived parents had opportunely prepared for themselves. For Caesarius did not die in his own country, as Baronius contends. Moreover, that is nowhere read. Therefore, this funeral oration seems to be placed at the end of the year 368, or rather the beginning of 369. For the earthquake, after which we said Caesarius died, is the very same one which Socrates narrates (38) occurred in Bithynia on the Ides of October, in the consulship of Valentinian and Valens; which falls in the vulgar year 368.

V. ON THE ORATION IN PRAISE OF CAESARIUS THE BROTHER

^A 196 V. There are some points in this oration related by the Theologian that cause no small trouble for the learned. For speaking of Caesarius, Gregory says: "He was living in Bithynia, administering a prefecture for the emperor that was by no means the lowest. But it consisted in collecting moneys for the emperor and managing the treasuries (ibid.)." The learned are at a loss here, and doubt what these words mean by "prefecture"; whether it is the "office of quaestor," as Billius interprets; or "comitiva of the sacred largesses," or, as Gothofredus contends (39), one of the "private affairs"; or finally, a "simple" prefecture in that province, or "count of the treasuries" who would be under the illustrious man, the count of the sacred largesses, as the Bollandists (40) and Tillemont would have it.

VI. We certainly shall not delay to refute this interpretation of Billius: "He held the office of quaestor." For, as Gothofredus observes, "in this age the Greek word *tamievs* [treasurer] is wrongly expressed by the term 'quaestor,' for the quaestor was not, as of old, the one who presided over the public treasury; but rather he whom today we almost call the chancellor, in whose power was the right of declaring laws for the prince and of writing answers to the petitions of suppliants, as is evident from Claudian and the *Notitia Imperii*." We shall also say almost nothing about the opinion of Gothofredus, the Bollandists, and Tillemont. Every man strives to confirm his own opinion with various arguments. Truly, the weight and firmness of the reasons on either side are not great. The most illustrious Tillemont himself admits that each of these dignities can be signified by Gregory's words; and he even agrees, in a marvelous manner, with Gothofredus's opinion, in that Gregory says: "The province, indeed, entrusted to Caesarius did not hold the lowest place among the dignities of the empire." However, the learned man doubts whether such a comitiva can be called a "prelude" to higher grades, or whether Caesarius ought to have remained in that dignity from the year 364 to the year 369 without being promoted to greater things in the meantime. But, with the permission of that most learned man, it may be said that no doubt can arise regarding the first point. For Gregory himself calls this prefecture a "prelude." As for the second point, granted that which Tillemont contends, "that Caesarius was never promoted to higher honors," if anything follows from this, it is certainly nothing other than that the dignity of Caesarius was not of the least, but one of the more distinguished ones, in which the emperor, who was most desirous of promoting him, permitted him to remain for several years. Nor does Gothofredus grant this, who affirms that Caesarius was later raised by Valens to the prefecture of the city of Constantinople, and that Ammianus Marcellinus makes mention of him in the deeds of the year 365, as does Zosimus in book IV, which Leuvenklaius also noted in Zosimus.

VII. In such a variety of opinions, it is not easy to discern which path should be followed. It will therefore be safer to adhere to the footsteps of Gregory; and since he himself makes no mention of any prefecture held by Caesarius higher than that which he administered in Bithynia—and was still administering when he was taken away by death—we are not permitted to assert that the prefecture of the city of Constantinople was committed to him; indeed, we can hardly allow that he was a "count of private affairs." For he lived for a long time in the province, in each of which, as Pancirolus notes, there were prefects of the treasuries. Furthermore, the *comitiva* of private affairs was one of the three primary dignities of the empire, and therefore should not—and in fact did not—serve as a grade to 197 greater things or a "prelude." For it contradicts Gregory's words that his brother Caesarius was first designated "count of private affairs and the treasuries," then "prefect," or even "quaestor." If it were so, he would truly have descended a long way from greater to lesser things, let alone having served as a prelude to greater ones. But perhaps that which led most learned men into error is that they did not pay sufficient attention to the fact that there was not only one Caesarius at that time. For there was another Caesarius, distinct from the brother of Gregory, a powerful man to whom Gregory inscribed two letters that are found among his (Gregorian) works. Perhaps he was the "count of private affairs" in the year 364, and subsequently "master of offices," "prefect of the praetorium," and even "consul," unless you prefer to divide these duties between two Caesariuses.

VIII. It is worth observing that Gregory, in this funeral oration for Caesarius, does not say a single word about the writings that are circulated under his name. This silence seems enough for us to consider the four dialogues which bear the name of Caesarius to have been falsely attributed to him. For the author of the dialogues praises Maximus, who flourished long after Caesarius, namely in the seventh century, and is therefore much more recent. Leuvenklaius, who prefers to believe that the testimonies which occur everywhere in the dialogues regarding Maximus were rashly stitched on by someone, rather than to strip the dialogues from Caesarius, is certainly more deserving of ridicule than of serious refutation.

IX. Furthermore, the dialogues bear an epigraph which itself declares that they cannot be the progeny of Caesarius; for it is of such a kind, both in the edition of Leuvenklaius and in the *Bibliotheca Patrum*, that it signifies both the questions proposed and the fact that Caesarius was "a secretis" and "for twenty whole years was staying in Constantinople teaching." These things can by no means be said of Caesarius. For he is never read to have been "teaching" or "a secretis," and much less could he have "taught for twenty whole years" in Constantinople, for he did not spend even ten or eight years in that city. And certainly the Theologian indicates clearly enough that nothing was published to the public by his brother Caesarius regarding the art of oratory, medicine, mathematics, philosophy, etc. He could certainly have discoursed on these arts with praise, but not on theology, in which, as a merely catechumen man, he had not labored in the arena. Hence, it may deservedly be doubted whether these dia-

who have read the logs, and who attribute them to Caesarius. For it is evident to any reader that the author of the dialogues was a man most deeply versed in theological matters and widely known by reputation. For those who question him declare 41 "that they have been exhausted by the waves of absurd opinions and are taking refuge with the master's kindness, as if at a certain port, so that they may be taught the truth concerning the adorable Trinity and other points of Holy Scripture"; and they call him "doctor," using the title of "father of his most devoted sons." This designation indeed signifies a priest, and one distinguished by his knowledge of theological matters. And in the very act, the doctor, breaking off the debate on the second day, says: 42 "Because the schedule of the time now compels us to perform the mysteries, with holy heaven awaiting us," etc. Whoever, therefore, wishes to attribute these dialogues to Caesarius must transform, by a new and clearly admirable metamorphosis, the same man from a physician into a theologian, and from a catechumen into a priest. ^B X. Finally, the author of the dialogues calls Origen 43 "a vain chatterer, a most impious writer," and his dogmas "venomous and pestilential, which deceive the simpler folk." Would Gregory's brother, I ask, have spoken like this of Origen, much less Gregory himself, who a long time afterwards was sending excerpts of Origen, "as a monument to Basil and himself," to Theodore 44? By this, the silly opinion of a certain writer 45 is completely overturned, who wished to maintain that the dialogues were forged by the Theologian himself for Caesarius; and he attempts to construct this from a confused and darkened text of Photius 46, who did not even dream of such a thing. One thing alone is gathered from the words of Photius: that the author of the dialogues, whom he mentions, is more ancient than Photius, who lived in the ninth century.

ORATION VII

I. Do you perhaps think, O friends, and brothers, and fathers—a name and a thing truly sweet—that I have come forward eagerly to speak, in order to pursue him who has departed with tears and lamentations, or to deliver a long and elegant oration, of the kind in which most people delight? And you, indeed, have gathered as if to be partners in my sorrow and mourning, so that you might deplore your own misfortunes in mine, if anything of this sort has happened to any of you, and learn to grieve at the calamities of friends; ^B while others have come as if to feast their ears and delight their minds. For it was thought that I must make a display, and that this calamity was such as my state used to be, when we were still sufficiently extravagant in other matters and in the realm of material things, and ambitious in our speeches; before I had lifted my eyes to the true and supreme Word, and, having given all things to God—from whom all things come—had received God in exchange for all things. Do not, I beg you, think this of us, if you wish to think anything right. For we shall neither mourn the departed more than is fitting, since we are not accustomed to approve of such things in others, ^C nor shall we exceed measure and decorum in praising him, although a speech is a dear and most fitting gift, if anything else is so to an eloquent man, and praise is a gift to one who has loved my speeches exceptionally; and it is not only a gift, but also a duty, the most just of all debts. But I shall do only as much as is needed to fulfill the law regarding these matters and [to maintain] the...

mean between apathy and excess (for such is not outside our philosophy: "The memory of the just is with praises," and "For the dead," he says, "let fall tears, and begin to lament, as if you had suffered something terrible"—rightly severing us from both apathy and excess). After this, I shall point out the weakness of human nature, remind you of the dignity of the soul, add the consolation due to those who suffer, and transfer our grief from the flesh and transitory things to spiritual and eternal ones.

^B II. As for Cæsarius—to begin from where it is most fitting for me—he had parents whom you all know, and whose virtue you, by seeing and hearing them, emulate, admire, and recount to those who are unaware of it (if indeed any such people exist), each of you taking a different part. For it is impossible for one man to recount everything, nor is this a task for a single tongue, however much anyone might excel in labor and diligence, or apply the highest zeal and effort. And though many and great are the arguments for their praise (unless perhaps I seem to some to be doing something foolish in praising my own kin), one thing especially ennobles them and renders them distinguished, namely piety. I speak of these grave and hoary ones, venerable no less for their virtue than for their old age; whose bodies have been worn down by time, but whose souls flourish and bloom toward God.

^C III. The father, well grafted from the wild olive into the fruitful olive tree, and become so much a partaker of its fatness that he was entrusted with the care of grafting others as well, and commissioned with the culture of souls, presiding in high manner over this high people—a second Aaron, or Moses, deemed worthy to approach God and to supply the divine voice to others standing far off—was gentle, free from anger, serene in appearance, fervent in spirit, rich in the things that are seen, but richer in those that are hidden. Yet why should I paint for you one who is known? For even if we should prolong our discourse, we could not say as much as is worthy, and as much as each of you understands and demands of the speech; and it is better to leave it to your own surmises than to truncate in my words a large part of the miracle.

^D IV. The mother, however, [was] of old and from [her] ancestors...

conducting piety like a certain necessary inheritance, not to herself alone, but passing it on also to her children, was truly a holy lump from holy first-fruits. And she so increased and amplified this [piety] that, even as to the perfection of her husband (for I will speak, even if this statement be not free from boldness), some believe and declare it must be ascribed to no other person than to her; and—O miracle!—that she received as a reward for her piety a greater and more perfect piety. Both were lovers of their children and lovers of Christ, and—what is most worthy of wonder—Lovers of Christ even more than lovers of their children; inasmuch as they took this one fruit from their children, to be recognized and named by Christ, ^B and to possess virtue as the limit of good breeding, and a drawing near to the Better [God]. They were compassionate, sympathetic, rescuing many things from moths and robbers and the prince of this world, transferring them from their sojourn [on earth] to their true habitation, and heaping up for their children a most great inheritance, namely, the splendor of the life to come. Thus they arrived at a ripe old age, equal to one another in both virtue and years, and full of days, as well those that remain as those that pass away and flow by: each would have held the first place among mortals, had they not hindered one another from this preeminence by their mutual affection. Finally, they fulfilled every measure of happiness, except for this last one, as anyone might judge—whether it be by way of trial or by dispensation: this is, in my own judgment, that by sending ahead that son for whom, on account of the instability of his age, there was more to be feared, they themselves, already ending their life in security, might be transferred, with their whole household, to the things above.

V. ^C And these things I have recounted, not wishing to praise them, nor unaware that one could scarcely attain the dignity of the subject in an entire discourse dedicated to their praises, but in order to show that the virtue of Caesarius was owed to his parents, and that it should not seem wonderful or incredible to you if, having obtained such parents, he proved himself worthy of such praises; but rather the contrary, had he overlooked the examples of his own household and kin and set others before himself to emulate. Such, indeed, were his beginnings, such as became those who are truly well-born and destined to live rightly and honorably. But to come to the middle, that is to say, his beauty, his stature, and the grace attendant upon all the man's actions, and, as it were, the harmony in his notes (for although it is not our custom to marvel at such things, even if to others they do not seem small), I shall proceed to what follows in my account, and to things which are not easy to pass over even if I should desire to do so.

^A VI. We, therefore, having been educated and instituted in such manners, and sufficiently exercised and cultivated in the disciplines of this place—in which he, by the speed and greatness of his nature, left most others behind him by an interval that cannot be expressed—how shall I pass over the memory of these things without tears, and how shall my grief not show me to be of a faint heart, contrary to what I promised! For when the time of our departure seemed to have arrived, and we were then first separated from one another—I, indeed, remaining in the schools of Palestine for the love of the orator’s art, which were then flourishing; but he, having gone to the city of Alexander, which both then and now was and is considered the workshop of all learning. ^B What shall I tell of first, or what shall I say is the greatest of his virtues? Or what shall I pass over, so as not to injure my discourse by the omission of the greatest things? Who was more faithful to his teachers than he? Who was more agreeable to his equals? Who more avoided the society and company of the wicked? Who attached himself more to the best of men, both to those from his own country who were the most reputable and well-known, and to others as well, knowing that social intercourse contributes no small amount either to virtue or to vice? From which, who was more honored by the governors than he? Or who was more widely known to the whole city, either for self-control, or—though his own learning was altogether more sublime and abstruse—more illustrious for the sagacity of his mind?

VII. On the industry and achievements of Caesarius in his studies.

^C VII. What kind of learning did he not traverse? Or rather, what is there that he did not master, so that not even one other could compare? To whom, moreover, did he yield, so that anyone could approach him even in the slightest degree, not only of his fellows and peers, but even of those older and more ancient in their studies? For he cultivated all things as one, and each one again as all. And just as he surpassed those endowed with winged intellects by his study and diligence, so he surpassed the studious and industrious by the speed of his intellect; or, to speak more correctly, he surpassed the naturally gifted in intellect, the industrious in study, and those who excelled in both in both respects. And from geometry, indeed, and astronomy, and from learning that is for others dangerous, having selected whatever was useful—that is, so as to admire the Creator from the ^D harmony and order of the heavenly bodies—he escaped whatever was harmful and ruinous; for he did not refer the things that exist and come to pass to the motion of the stars, as those who set up the creature to contend against the Creator, and—as is natural—attribute all other things and their motion to them; but, as with all other things, so he attributed their motion, as is right, to divine providence. And in numbers and calculations, and in that excellent part of the medical art which philosophizes on natures and temperaments and the sources of diseases, such that by removing the roots one also cuts away the shoots, who is so ignorant or contentious as to assign him second place, and not to rejoice if, next to him, he should immediately be ranked?

Nor is this mere talk, ^A unsupported by testimony; rather, the eastern and western regions, and indeed all those territories which he subsequently traversed, are the renowned pillars of his learning.

VIII. But since, like a great cargo ship laden with every kind of merchandise, he was sailing back to his own city, having collected within his soul every manner of virtue and discipline, so that he might share the fair wares of his learning with others, here too a certain admirable thing occurred. Because the memory of it delights me above all else, and might also afford you pleasure, it will not be out of place to set it forth in few words. Our mother, with a certain maternal yearning and a heart full of love for her children, had one desire: just as she had sent us both forth at the same time, she wished also to see us returning together. For we were, if not to others, then certainly to our mother, when we were seen together, a pair ^B to be desired, and a sight to be wished for—though now, alas, unhappily undone by envy. And behold, by the impulse of God—who hearkens to just prayers and values the love of parents toward virtuous sons—neither by any plan nor by any compact, he from Alexandria, I from Greece, the one by land, the other by sea, arrived at the same city at the same time. This city was Byzantium, which now holds the primacy of all Europe; in it, after no long time had passed, Caesarius attained such glory that public honors, a marriage among the most celebrated, and participation in the senatorial ^C order were offered to him. And by common decree it was sought from the great emperor through envoys that he should be willing to have the first city adorned and honored by the prince of learned men (if indeed he had a care that it should be truly primary, and worthy of its name), and that this should be added to its other praises: that it should be adorned by Caesarius, both as physician and as citizen; although, apart from its other splendor, it abounds in men distinguished in philosophy and in other branches of the arts. But enough of this. As for that which happened at that time, though to others it might appear to have occurred randomly and by chance—as a matter ^D of which human affairs bring forth many—to the pious, however, it was abundantly manifest that the event had come to pass for no other reason than the work of pious parents, bringing their children together, both by land and by sea, for the fulfillment of a single wish.

^C IX. Come, let us not pass over even this praise of Caesarius, which, though it may seem small to the judgment of others and perhaps not even worthy of mention, yet to me, both then and now, appeared most great—if, indeed, fraternal love deserves praise—and I shall never cease to place it among the first [points], as often as my narrative is set to speak of his affairs. For when the city was restraining him with the honors we have mentioned, and saying that it would not by any means allow him the power to depart, I, nevertheless—whose authority Caesarius valued most highly in all matters—striving in the opposite direction, succeeded in this: that neither were our parents frustrated in their wish, nor our homeland in its due obligation, nor indeed was I in my own longing. For he joined himself to me as a companion and fellow-traveler of my journey; and he placed me before not only cities and peoples, not only the honors and revenues that were streaming to him from everywhere in abundance, or were held in hope and expectation, but he even preferred me to the emperor himself and to the commands from that quarter.

From there, I resolved to philosophize and to be transformed toward the life above, shaking off all political ambition as if it were a harsh master or a painful disease; or rather, the desire was indeed older, but the life was subsequent. But Caesarius, when he had dedicated the first fruits of his learning to his homeland and had stirred up for himself an admiration worthy of his labors, later, led by a desire for glory—or, at least, as he gave me to believe, in order to be a protection to the city—betook himself to the court. He did not, indeed, in my own judgment, do a thing very pleasing to us (for I will not deny before you that it is better and more sublime to be ranked among the lowest before God than to hold the first place before an earthly emperor), yet he did not do anything worthy of blame. For to philosophize is as difficult as it is great, and the undertaking is not for many, nor for any others than those whom the magnificence of the divine mind, which is accustomed to reach out a hand to the good will of men, has called; or to those who have ^D chosen well, it grants its hand. It is no small thing if someone, having embraced a second way of life, should pursue probity and have more regard for God and his own salvation than for earthly splendor; and should cast aside the latter as a stage or a mask among those many and fleeting things, playing the drama of this world, while he himself lives for God together with the image which he knows he has received from Him and owes to the giver; which, indeed, we know to have been the mind of Caesarius.

X. For when he had no need of great effort or labor, but had shown merely his learning, or rather, had merely displayed a short specimen of his education, he was immediately granted ^D the first rank among physicians,

^A and reaped the greatest honors. He offered the humanity of his art free of charge to those in authority, knowing that nothing so advances a man to higher things as virtue and being known for the best of deeds. Though he was second in rank to some, he surpassed them by far in glory. Being beloved by all because of his temperance and moderation, and on that account entrusted with precious things, nor having any need at all of Hippocrates to adjure him—so that the simplicity of Crates was as nothing when compared with the sincerity seen in him—he was esteemed by all even more than his rank warranted. He was always deemed worthy of great things, and judged by the emperors themselves and those who held the first positions after them to be worthy of greater things than those he hoped for. But the greatest thing of all is that neither by glory nor by the luxury that surrounded him was the nobility of his soul corrupted. ^B Rather, though he possessed many and great advantages, his primary aim was to be and to be called a Christian; and all other things he considered as child’s play and trifles when weighed against this single goal. For other things are like a stage performance, played by others, quickly erected and as quickly dismantled—perhaps even more easily destroyed than constructed, as one can see from the many changes of this life and the prosperity that shifts up and down—whereas piety is the only truly individual good, and one that remains secure.

XI. This was the philosophy of Caesarius even while wearing the official cloak;

^A And his first artifice and sophistry was this: that we might not even obtain the honor bestowed upon the contests—for that noble gentleman envied Christians even this—he ordered that those suffering as Christians should be punished as criminals. His second was to give the name of persuasion to what was being done, rather than tyranny, so that the shame of those who willingly proceeded toward impiety might appear greater than the danger. And some with money, others with dignities, others with promises, and others with various sorts of honors—which he offered not in a royal manner, but most servilely in the sight of all—and all of them by the sorcery of his words 21 and by his own example, he tried on many occasions, and Caesarius as well. Alas for such madness and folly, if he hoped that he would plunder both Caesarius, and my brother, and one born of such parents!

^B XII. But, that I may linger a little while in this discourse and take pleasure in the narrative, just as those who were present at the miracle 22 did: that brave man entered, fortified by the sign of Christ and holding forth the great Word as a shield, against one who was great in arms and great in the skill of rhetoric. He was not at all struck with fear by the sight, nor did he cast down anything of his spirit through flattery, but was an athlete ready to contend, both in word and deed, against him who was powerful in both respects. Such, then, was the stadium, and such the champion of piety. And the president 23 of the contest: on one side, Christ, arming the athlete through his own sufferings; on the other, the formidable tyrant, coaxing the athlete with the allurements of words, and terrifying him with the weight of his power. And there was a theater on both sides—both of those who had remained in the piety of the faith and of those who had been snatched away by him—all looking to see which way their contest would incline, and suffering more for who would win than those very people who were being watched.

^C XIII. But did you not fear that something unworthy of Caesarius's zeal might happen? But be of good courage, for victory is with Christ, who has overcome the world 14. Now, I would have valued explaining each of the things then spoken or proposed more than anything; for that debate contains certain logical subtleties and charms, which, in my own judgment, are not unpleasant to remember. But it is entirely untimely ^D

^A and alien to the purpose of this oration. But when Cæsarius, having dissolved all his [the opponent’s] verbal meshes and thrust aside all his efforts, whether open or obscure, as if they were mere child’s play, declared with a great and clear voice that he was and always would be a Christian, he was not even then entirely cast out; for the emperor had a terrible longing to enjoy the learning and adornment of Cæsarius. It was at this time that he uttered that celebrated saying to all who were listening: "O happy father, O unhappy children!" For he thought fit to decorate us too with a share of the shame—us whose learning and piety he had known at Athens—but Cæsarius was reserved for the second coming (for the God who presides over justice was conveniently arming him against the Persians). He returned to us a blessed exile and bloodless victor, and more illustrious for his disgrace than for splendor and glory.

^B XIV. This victory of his I judge to be far more sublime and precious than all that great hand of his, and the towering purple, and the diadem of immense price. I am more elated by this account than if he had shared the whole empire with him. To evil times, therefore, he yields, and in doing so obeys our law, which ordains that when the time is urgent we should risk danger for the sake of the truth, and not betray piety through cowardice; but as long as it is permitted, we should not provoke dangers ourselves—either out of fear for our own souls, or out of concern for those who bring the danger upon us. But after this darkness was dispelled, and the foreign land had judged the cause rightly, and the unsheathed sword had laid the impious one low, and affairs had returned to the Christians, what need is there to say with what honor and glory, or with how many and what great testimonies—and as if he were bestowing a benefit rather than receiving one—he was received back into the palace, and received the second honor in place of the first? And while time has changed the emperors, for Cæsarius his glory and the primacy of authority among them remained not at all shaken or dissolved; nay, rather, there was a struggle among the emperors as to who would more attach Cæsarius to himself, and of whom he would be called more the friend and intimate. Such was the piety of Cæsarius, such the rewards of his piety. Let the young listen, let the men listen, and let them hasten through the same virtue to the same splendor (for "the fruit of good labors is glorious" ^C), whoever also seeks this out, and counts it a part of happiness.

XV. Now, moreover, what sort of miracle was this of his ^D

^A and what great evidence does he provide, both of his parents' piety and of his own? He was living in Bithynia, administering a position of no small authority under the emperor—it was his duty to collect the imperial revenues and to have the care of the treasuries. The emperor had intended this to be, as it were, a prelude to greater commands for him.

When the earthquake occurred previously at Nicaea—said to be the most severe of any ever recorded in human memory—which nearly engulfed everyone and vanished together with the beauty of the city, he alone among the prominent men, or at most with very few, escaped from the danger safe and sound. And he did this in an incredible way, being protected by the very ruin itself, and bearing only minor marks of the danger—only enough to let fear serve as an instructor for a greater salvation, and to join himself entirely to the side above, having transferred his service from things subject to turmoil, and having exchanged the court for himself. This he reflected upon, and prayed for with zeal, as he persuaded me by writing to me, when I had seized the occasion to admonish him—which I never ceased doing, taking it amiss that the greatness of his nature should be occupied in inferior matters, and that a soul so philosophical should wallow in public affairs, and be covered as if by a cloud over the sun.

But while he proved superior to the earthquake, he was no longer so ^B to the disease; for he was a man. And the former was his own, the latter common to others; one belonged to piety, the other to nature. Yet consolation forestalled the suffering, so that, shaken by his death, we might boast of the extraordinary nature of his salvation at that time. And now our great Caesarius has been preserved for us—precious ash, a dead man praised, escorted by hymns succeeding hymns, led in procession to the shrines of the martyrs, honored by the holy hands of his parents, his mother clothing herself in white, substituting piety for mourning, philosophy overcoming tears, psalms lulling grief to sleep, ^C and finally receiving honors worthy of a soul newly created, which the Spirit had reformed through water.

XVI. This, Caesarius, is the funeral gift from me: these are the first fruits of my discourses, which you often complained were hidden, and which you were to have unveiled in yourself. This ornament from me; yet to you, I know well, it is dearer than any ornament—not silk and soft, flowing garments, in which you did not even delight when you were still alive, as many do, inasmuch as you were adorned by virtue alone; nor the textures of transparent linen, nor costly D

infusions of ointments, which you formerly sent into the women's quarters, and whose fragrance a single day dissolves; nor anything else of such trifles, which are precious to those of small mind, all of which this bitter stone would conceal today, keeping them hidden along with the beautiful body. Away with the contests and myths of the Gentiles, by which wretched youths have been honored, setting forth small prizes for small contests; and all those things by which, through libations and first-fruits, or crowns and freshly plucked flowers, they perform funeral rites for departed men, serving ancestral law and dull sorrow rather than reason. My gift is speech, which perhaps the future time will also receive; it is possessed of perpetual motion, and it does not allow the one who has departed from here to slip away into oblivion, but always guards the one being honored for the ears and souls of men, and sets forth the image of the desired one more vividly than a painting.

^A XVII. Such, then, are the offerings from us. But if they are small and inferior to your merits, yet it is pleasing to God that it is done according to our strength. We have paid some of these duties, and others we will pay, offering annual honors and commemorations, at least those of us who shall survive. But may you, O divine and sacred head, pierce the heavens, and may you find rest in the bosom of Abraham—whoever indeed that may be—and may you behold the choir of angels and the glory and splendor of blessed men; or rather, may you dance with them and rejoice with them, laughing from on high at all the things that are here: both at the so-called riches, and at the cast-off dignities, and the false honors, and the imposture that the senses create, and the vain glory of this life, and the confusion and ignorance that is like a battle in the night. Standing by that great King, and being filled with the light shining from thence—a small rill of which we have received here, as much as we are able to sketch out and discern in mirrors and in riddles—may we hereafter come to the very fountain itself, beholding pure truth with a pure mind, and finding this as the reward of the labor spent in the pursuit of virtue here, that we may more perfectly enjoy the company and contemplation of the supreme good there; the end of our sacred discipline, which both books and souls flourishing in the praise of theology profess.

XVIII. What remains yet? Nothing else, surely, than to offer the remedy of speech to those who are in sorrow. For it is a great [consolation] to those who mourn

when it is provided by those who suffer the same pain, and those who are pressed by a like calamity have greater authority to console the tormented. It is to them, therefore, that my speech was primarily directed—for whose sake I would surely be overcome with shame if they did not carry the first fruits of patience, just as they do of all other virtues. For even if they excel all others in their love for their children, they also surpass all others in philosophy and in the love of Christ, and they themselves have long meditated on the transition from this life, and have taught their children so, or, to speak more correctly, they have so ordered their whole life that it is nothing but a meditation on death.

But if sorrow still darkens the reason and, like some rheum descending over the eye, prevents one from clearly seeing what is required, then come, accept an exhortation—you elders from the young, you parents from the child—you who are worthy to be admonished by those who [ordinarily] ought to be [under your] instruction, [and yet] who have admonished many and collected experience over a long time. ^B And do not be surprised that a young man admonishes elders; this, too, is yours, if I happen to see anything more clearly than the hoary-headed. How much longer shall we live, O venerable grey hairs now drawing near to God? How much longer shall we suffer affliction here? Not even the whole of human life is long when compared to the divine and eternal nature, much less these remnants of life, and this release—if we may call it so—of the human breath, and the final moments of this fleeting and transitory life. By how much did Caesarius outrun us? How much longer shall we grieve over the departed? Do we not hasten toward the same dwelling? Shall we not presently go under the same stone? ^C Shall we not in a little while be the same dust? Shall we not make this profit from these few days that remain: to see more evils, and in part to suffer them, and in part perhaps to commit them, and so at last ourselves also to pay the common, firm, and stable tribute to the law of nature, and for some to follow, and others to precede, and some to mourn, and by others to be mourned, receiving back the contribution of tears that we have offered to others?

XIX. Such is the life of us, brothers, who live a fleeting life: such is the play upon the earth—to be born when we were not, and having been born, to be dissolved again. We are a dream that does not endure, a phantom that cannot be grasped, the flight of a passing bird, a ship on the sea leaving no path, dust, vapor, morning dew, a flower blossoming in season ^D and wilting in season. "Man, his days are as grass, as the flower of the field, so shall he flourish." Well did the divine David philosophize about our frailty, and likewise in those other words: "Make me to know the fewness of my days," and he defines human days as a measurement of wrestlers. What could you say to...

Jeremiah, who even complains against his mother for his birth ^A and that, as he laments, he was brought into the light because of the sins of others? "I saw all things," says Ecclesiastes, "I scrutinized all human things by reason: wealth, luxury, power, fickle glory, wisdom which flees more than it is grasped; luxury again, wisdom again, revolving the same things often, the pleasures of the belly, gardens, multitudes of slaves, abundance of possessions, male and female cupbearers, singing men and singing women, arms, bodyguards, nations falling at one's knees, collected tributes, the pride of kings, everything required for life, everything superfluous," in which I surpassed all the kings who were before me. And what is the result of all these things? "All is vanity of vanities, all is vanity," and "presumption of spirit," that is, a certain thoughtless impulse ^B of the soul, and the distraction of a man who has been condemned to this, perhaps on account of the ancient fall. "But the end of the discourse," he says, "hear the whole: Fear God." Here the perplexity ceases; and this is the only gain for you from the life here: to be led through the turmoil of things seen and shifting, to things fixed and immovable.

XX. Let us not, therefore, mourn Caesarius, knowing from what evils he has been snatched, but rather ourselves, knowing what evils we have been left in, and what evils we store up for ourselves, if we do not sincerely surrender ourselves to God and, having run past things that pass us by, hasten towards the life above, and, while still dwelling on earth, abandon the earth, and ^C truly follow the Spirit carrying us to the things above. These things are heavy to the faint-hearted, but light to those of stout mind. Let us consider it in this way: Will Caesarius not rule? But neither will he be ruled by others. Will he not strike terror into some? But neither will he fear a cruel master, often not even one worthy to be ruled. Will he not amass wealth? But neither will he fear envy, or have his soul suffer loss by gathering badly, ever seeking to acquire as much as he has already found. For such is the disease of wealth, having no limit to the need for more, but considering the medicine for thirst to lie in constant drinking. Will he not show off his speeches? But he will indeed be admired for his speeches. Will he not discuss the dogmas ^D of Hippocrates, and Galen, and those who oppose them? But neither will he suffer, stricken by diseases, or reap grief from the misfortunes of others. Will he not demonstrate the theorems of Euclid, and Ptolemy, and Heron? But...

neither, bearing a soul more puffed up than the ignorant, will he conceive pain. Will he not occupy himself with the dogmas of Plato, and Aristotle, and Pyrrho, and some certain Democritus, and Heraclitus, and Anaxagoras, and Cleanthes too, and Epicurus, and I know not whom of the Stoics and the Academy? But neither will he labor at how he might dissolve their probabilities. Why must I mention the others? But these things are indeed precious to all and eagerly pursued: will he not have a wife? Will he not have children? But neither will he mourn them, nor be mourned by them, nor, having left them to others, or having been left himself, be a memorial of misfortune. Will he not inherit wealth? But he shall be inherited by those whom he most desired, and by whom he himself wished to be, so that he might depart hence rich, carrying everything with him. O the pride! O the new consolation! ^B O the magnanimity of those who were set upon this! A proclamation was heard, worthy of every hearing, and the sorrow of the mother is stirred by a beautiful and holy promise, to give all that wealth to the child, as a funeral gift for his sake, and that nothing be left for those who were expecting it.

XXI. Are these not yet sufficient for consolation? I will bring a greater medicine. I am persuaded by the discourses of the wise that every soul beautiful and dear to God, when it is loosed from the body to which it was bound and departs from here, ^C immediately, having become in consciousness and contemplation of the good that awaits it, (inasmuch as that which cast a shadow has been purified, or laid aside, or I know not what word one ought to use) experiences a certain marvelous pleasure, and exults, and gladly journeys toward its own Master, having escaped the life here as if it were some burdensome prison, and having cast off the surrounding shackles by which the wing of the mind was pulled down, and as if already by anticipation it harvests the beatitude stored up; and a little later, having also received back the kindred flesh, with which it pursued wisdom ^D thenceforth, at the hand of Him who both gave it and entrusted it—

^A how this shall be, God knows, who both joined these together and dissolved them—then at last it too shall be admitted with it to the inheritance of heavenly glory; and just as through the conjunction of nature it partook of its sorrows, so too it will share in its own joys, having consumed the whole body into itself, and having become one with it—both spirit, and mind, and god—with that which was mortal and perishing having surely been swallowed up by life. Hear, then, what is philosophized about the compacting of bones and sinews by the divine Ezekiel; ^B and what after him the divine Paul said concerning the earthly tabernacle and the house not made with hands, the one, I say, being subject to dissolution, while the other is stored up in the heavens; and how he affirms that departure from the body is presence with the Lord, while he deplores the life in the body as a pilgrimage, and for this reason longs for and hastens toward the dissolution. Why do I grow faint regarding the things hoped for? Why do I become temporal? I shall await the voice of the archangel, the final trumpet, the transformation of the heaven, the change of the earth, the freedom of the elements, the renovation of the whole world. Then I shall see Caesarius, no longer a traveler, nor one now carried by others, nor lamented and an object of pity, but bright, glorious, exalted; such as you have often appeared to me in dreams, O dearest of brothers and most loving of brothers, whether my own will fashions this, or the truth itself informs it.

^C XXII. But now, having dismissed my laments, let me look into myself, lest I should be found to be carrying something worthy of lamentation, and let me examine my own affairs. *Sons of men*, for the discourse turns to you, *how long will you be heavy-hearted and dull of understanding? Why do you love vanity and seek after lies*? Judging this life to be something great, and these few days to be many, and turning away from this departure, which is welcome and sweet, as if it were something heavy and dreadful? Shall we not know ourselves? Shall we not cast away those things which are seen with the eyes? Shall we not turn our eyes to the things which are perceived by mind and intelligence? Nay, if there is indeed any cause for sorrow, shall we not rather sorrow that our sojourning is prolonged, ^D (following that David, who calls the things of this life *tabernacles of darkness, and a place of affliction, and a pit of mire, and the shadow of death*), because we linger too long in these sepulchres which we carry about us, because, being men, we die the death of sin, having become gods? This is the fear I dread, and with this I consort night and day.

^A And neither do they allow me to draw free breath, this future glory from one side, and this coming tribunal from the other; of which the former I desire so much that I can say: *My soul faints for thy salvation* (Ps. cxviii, 81), but the latter I dread and turn away from. Nor, indeed, do I fear this, that this body of mine, once having dissolved and become corrupt, should be altogether extinguished; but I fear lest that noble figment of God (noble it is, when it duly fulfills the numbers of its duty, just as it is infamous when it sins), in which there is reason, law, and hope, should be condemned to the same ignominy as those irrational creatures, ^B and possess no better condition after death—which would be a thing to be wished for by wicked men, who are worthy of that fire.

XXIII.

XXIV.

bearing, enduring all things ^A out of love and hope for Him; giving thanks for all things, for things on the right as well as the left, I say, for pleasant things and for painful, since the Word knows that these too are very often weapons of salvation, and committing our own souls to Him, as well as the souls of those who, as if on a common journey, have arrived earlier at the inn.

Having performed this duty, we shall put an end to our speech, and you to your tears—you who are already hastening to the tomb, that mournful and lasting gift which Caesarius has from you, prepared indeed for parents and old age in due season, but bestowed upon a son and youth contrary to expectation; yet it is not unreasonable in the sight of Him who directs our affairs. O Lord and Maker of all, and especially of this creature of Thine! O God of Thy men, and Father and Governor! O Arbiter of life and death! O Guardian ^B and Benefactor of our souls! Thou who makest all things, and transformest them in due [season] by the Artificer Word, and as Thou Thyself knowest by the depth of Thy wisdom and governance: now, receive Caesarius, the first-fruits of our departure; and if the last born is first, we yield to Thy reasons by which all things are governed; yet receive us too later in a convenient time, having moderated our life in the flesh for as long as it is profitable; and receive us prepared by the fear of Thee, and not troubled, nor turning our backs in the final day, and being dragged away from here by force—which is the affliction of souls that are lovers of the world and lovers of the flesh—but [receiving us] eagerly departing for that life ^C which is from above, long-enduring and blessed, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory to the ages of ages. Amen.

NOTICE REGARDING ORATION VIII

I. Just as he paid the funeral tribute to his brother Caesarius, so too did Gregory pay it to his sister Gorgonia. However, we cannot define with certainty in what year Gorgonia exchanged this earthly life for the eternal one. It is certain, however, from the words of the Theologian himself, that she survived Caesarius. For thus he speaks (n. 23): "I would also have you accept our oration to compensate for the many and exceeding many funeral gifts which we paid to Caesarius before you, and to you after him." Moreover, how long Gorgonia survived is also uncertain. One thing may be affirmed: that she preceded both parents, who departed from the living in the year [of our Lord] or in the year just elapsed. Certainly Gregory, "in his first poem" (v. 108 et seq.), mourns that both his siblings were taken away by death, and testifies that he was left "alone of the children" to his parents. From the same Gregory it is clear (22), that Caesarius and

Gorgonia died in the "flowering of her age"; yet she did not die without children, nay, not even without grandchildren, all of whom—together with her husband—she offered to God before her death, having purified them through baptism (n. 8); she herself, however, had been initiated into this sacrament only recently, not long before. This, however, is not to be understood as though it were believed that she was baptized during the very illness that took her away. For when she was already laboring under a grave bodily sickness (n. 18), having despaired of all other human aids, she fled to the physician of all mortals, and having seized the dead of night, she fell before the altar with faith; and when she had mingled her tears with whatever she had gathered of the antitypes of the precious Body and Blood (which it was not even permitted for those not yet baptized to behold with their eyes, much less to touch with their hands), she departed, immediately freed from her sickness by this remedy.

II. Gorgonia had a husband who, if Elias is to be believed, was born at Iconium and was a man ^A worthy of such a wife (n. 20). Thus, in one word, Gregory completes his eulogy, he who had earlier (n. 8) called him "not a harsh master to his wife, but a good fellow-servant." His name is entirely unknown, unless you wish him to be Meletius, who is called by that name in Gregory’s testament. For we can by no means assent to Baronius (23), by whom Gorgonia’s husband is said to be Vitalianus, of whom such different things are read in Gregory's letters and poems. Whoever he may have been, however, Gorgonia bore from him twin sons and three daughters. The pair of sons were "consecrated to God (n. 11)," and, as Elias testifies, both were raised to the height of the episcopacy. The names of these too are unknown. Baronius names them Peter and Phocas. There were also three daughters of Gorgonia: Alypiana, Eugenia, and Nonna, all of whom are mentioned in Gregory's testament. Alypiana married Nicobulus; from whom were born Nicobulus the younger, and the virgin Alypiana.

III. Gorgonia lived at Iconium, the fatherland of her husband, where she fell asleep in the Lord "full of days (n. 21)." For we do not learn that she died at Nazianzus from Gregory himself, who calls Gorgonia a "pastor" or bishop, a "spiritual father," nay, a "fellow-soldier in piety" and a "master (n. 11)." Elias thinks these words of Gregory, "O pastor of that holy sheep (n. 16)!" are directed to Gregory the father. But the same Elias later confesses that by "spiritual father" the prelate of Iconium is to be understood. ^B But it is manifestly false what he adds, that that prelate of Iconium was Amphilochius: since that Amphilochius was not raised to the see of Iconium until the year 373; and therefore Gorgonia is to be called a "sheep" and "daughter" not of Amphilochius, but of Faustinus, who was bishop of Iconium when she died there.

IV. At what time and in what place this oration was delivered is uncertain. A certain scholiast writes that it was "spoken at Arianzo, a town of Cappadocia, from whence they were sprung, and where they lie: *'Eppéðŋ ἐν Ἀριανζῷ τῆς Καππαδόκων ἐπαρχίας, ἀφ᾽ ἧς ὡρμῶντο δὴ, καὶ κεῖνται.*" But that is found nowhere. Be that as it may, this most pious brother pursues the outstanding gifts of his most pious sister, and her virtue beyond that of a woman, with such an eloquent oration that he stirs [the audience] to imitation and admiration at once. A woman clearly worthy to be both an honor and an example to the faithful. And in truth, in the Roman Martyrology, the feast day of Gorgonia is read to be assigned to the fifth of the Ides of December. Baronius praises the Greeks there, who maintain the same thing. In the Menaea, however, nothing of the sort appears for this day, just as it appears neither in Ughelli nor in Canisius. But Nicephorus in his History (24) writes this: «Πάντες δὲ οὗτοι τῷ τῆς πολιτείας σεμνῷ τῆς ἁγιωσύνης κατηξιώθησαν, ὥσπερ δῆτα καὶ Γρηγορίου Καισάρειος, καὶ ἡ Γοργονία.» "And all these," namely Basil and his brothers, "were ^C enrolled among the number of the saints on account of the integrity of their lives; as indeed were also the brother of Gregory, Caesarius, and his sister Gorgonia."

ORATION VIII

Funeral oration in praise of his sister Gorgonia

I. Praising a sister, I shall surely wonder at what is familiar; not, however, that because it is familiar, it is therefore false; but because it is true, it is therefore praiseworthy; and true, not only because it is just, but also because it is known. And to speak at the request of favor is not permitted, even if we were to wish it; but there stands in the middle, like some skilled judge, the hearer of the discourse and the truth, who is just, neither praising that which is beyond desert, nor demanding that which is according to desert. Wherefore I do not fear that fear, lest I might exceed the truth, but because it is domestic, it is not therefore false, but because it is true, it is therefore laudable; and true not only because it is just, but also because it is known. Nor indeed is it permitted to speak for favor, even if we might desire it, for the auditor, as a certain skilled arbiter, stands between the discourse and the truth, so that, just as he disapproves of unmerited praises, so too does he demand those that are merited, if only he be upright and just. Wherefore I do not fear this, lest I ^D speak beyond [i/n] what is artful.

^A I shall not overstep the bounds of truth, but on the contrary, let us not fall short of the truth, and by wandering far from her worth, diminish the glory through our praises; since it is difficult to match both the actions and the words to the goodness of the subject. Therefore, let nothing alien be praised, which would be incongruous; nor let that which is one’s own be disparaged, if it is noble; lest it be a gain to the former to be something alien, while to the latter, kinship becomes a detriment. For in both ways, the law of justice would be harmed—if those were praised and these were passed over in silence. But using truth as our boundary and canon, and looking solely to her, and considering nothing else of those things which the common herd and venal souls are wont to do, we shall thus both praise and remain silent [about those things] which merit either praise or silence.

^B II. But it would be most absurd of all if, while we consider it impious to defraud our kin in any matter, or to revile or accuse them, or in any way to harm them, whether in great things or in small—nay, even to consider it the greatest of all crimes to transgress against those who are most closely related in lineage—we nevertheless believe we are doing something just when we defraud them of discourse (which is owed most of all to good men, and by which we might render their memory immortal); or when we take more account of the wicked, who accuse us of speaking for favor, than of the righteous, who demand their merited praises. And certainly, since the fact that their virtue has not been fully examined or attested does not deter us from praising outsiders (although it would be much fairer [to praise those we know]), friendship and the fear of incurring the envy of the many shall not prevent us from praising those we know, especially those who have completed the final day of their life, and from whom it is now far too late to seek favor; for they, as they have left all other things behind, have likewise left behind their praisers and detractors. ^C

III. Since, however, we have spoken sufficiently in our own defense regarding these matters, and have demonstrated that this discourse was necessarily instituted by us, come, let us now proceed to the praises themselves, [while] contemning the beauty and elegance of language (for she whom we praise was also not at all adorned and polished, and she counted the neglect of such ornament to be [true] beauty), discharging this due duty of piety like some much-needed debt, and at the same time educating the many to the zeal and imitation of the same virtue, since this is our aim in every word and deed: to render perfect those who have been entrusted to our faith. Let someone else, then, praise the homeland and lineage of the departed, faithfully observing the laws of encomia; he will certainly not lack many fine words, if he wishes to adorn her even to those outside, just as though with honorable form and

gems, and ornaments originating from art and hand—which reveal a deformed person by the very act of applying them, but, by adding no increment of beauty to beautiful things, are found to be surpassed by them. I, however, having submitted thus far to the law that is observed in these matters, as much as to make mention of our common parents (for it is not right to pass over such good parents and teachers), shall turn my discourse to her as quickly as possible, and will not frustrate the desire of those who seek the narrative of her life. ^B

IV. Who, then, does not know our new Abraham and the Sarah of our own day? I mean Gregory and Nonna, his wife (for it is good not even to pass by their names, as they are an exhortation to virtue), he who was justified by faith, and she who lived with a faithful man; he who became clearly the father of many nations, and she who travailed spiritually; he who fled the servitude of his ancestral gods, and she who was both daughter and mother of free men; he who went forth from his kin and his house for the sake of the land of promise, and she who was the cause of this departure (for this, if I may be so bold, she did only for his sake, even surpassing Sarah); he who dwelt as a stranger well, and she who readily accompanied him in his sojourn; he who attached himself to the Lord, and she who both called and considered her own husband lord, and was in part justified because of this; whose promise, and whose Isaac, as far as pertained to them, and whose gift it was. ^C

V. And as for the wife, that good shepherd (having prayed and led her), and from her he received the example of how to pasture well; but of the husband, that he had fled idols with a sincere heart, and later put demons to flight; and of the wife, that she would never even share salt with the worshippers of idols: they were equals in this honor, and concordant, and of one mind, and their union of virtue and of intimacy with God was no less than their union of flesh. Being equal in length of life and in gray hair, equal also in prudence and in splendor, they vied with one another and surpassed all the rest; held only a little by the flesh, but having already transported themselves in spirit even before their separation. Theirs is not the world, and theirs is the world: the former is despised, the latter is preferred; theirs it is to slip from riches, and theirs to grow rich through a noble ^D commerce; the former they spurned in this world, while the latter they received in exchange from above; and theirs was a short span of this life—

and how small a share of it piety has left behind, while that life, for the sake of which they were worn out with labors, is great and long-lasting. I will add one more thing to what I have said concerning them; namely, that they were beautifully and justly divided between the two sexes, the one as a pattern for men, the other for women, and not only a pattern, but an example of virtue.

VI. From these, Gorgonia received both her life and her glory; from these, the seeds of piety; from these, also, the fact that she lived honestly, and that she departed joyful and with better hopes. These things are indeed excellent, and of such a kind as are not easily possessed by the many who greatly pride themselves on the name of nobility and wear puffed-up spirits because of the splendor of their ancestors. ^B But if one must discourse more wisely and sublimely about her, Gorgonia’s fatherland was the heavenly Jerusalem, that city, I say, which is not seen by the eyes, but is understood by soul and mind; in which we have been enrolled as citizens, and toward which we hasten; whose citizen is Christ, and whose fellow-citizens are the festal assembly and Church of the firstborn who are written in heaven (Heb. XII, 22-23), and who celebrate holy days around the great Founder of the city through the contemplation of glory, and lead an eternal dance. And nobility is the preservation of the divine image and the imitation of the Archetype, which reason and virtue effect, and a pure desire, ever more and more fashioning according to God those who are truly eager for heavenly things, and finally having knowledge of from whom, and who we are, and for what cause we were made.

VII. Such is my opinion concerning these matters. ^C And for this reason, I know and proclaim her soul to be nobler than all those from the rising of the sun (Job I, 3), using a canon and rule of nobility and ignobility that is better than that of the many; and not characterizing these things by blood, but by manner of life; nor judging those who are praised or blamed according to clans, but individually and one by one. And because my discourse is before those by whom her virtues are known and clearly perceived, let one person contribute one thing, and another something else, and let him assist the discourse. For it is not possible that one person, however powerful in ears and mind, should embrace everything.

ORATION VIII. IN PRAISE OF HIS SISTER GORGONIA

^A VIII. She so excelled in the praise of modesty, and so surpassed all the women of her own time, not to mention those of old whose fame for modesty is so great, that whereas life is divided for everyone into these two states, namely marriage and celibacy—wherein the latter is indeed higher and more divine, but more laborious and perilous, while the former is more humble but safer—she, having avoided the unpleasantness of both, chose whatever was most beautiful in each and joined them into one. She took the loftiness of the one and the security of the other; she was modest without pride, mingling the good of celibacy with matrimony, and showing that neither of these two things binds us entirely to God or to the world, nor severs us from Him. Thus, it is not that the one is by its own nature something to be shunned while the other is in every respect to be praised and embraced; rather, it is the mind that beautifully governs and regulates both marriage and virginity, and these, like some raw material, are fashioned and worked toward virtue by the artisan Word. For she was not joined to the flesh and therefore separated from the Spirit, nor, because she had a man as her head, did she therefore ignore the primary Head; but having ministered a little to the world and nature, and as much as the law of the flesh willed—or rather, He who prescribed this law to the flesh—she consecrated her whole self to God. ^B And what is most beautiful and honorable, she also drew her husband to herself, and obtained not a troublesome lord, but a good fellow-servant. Nor was this all; she also made the fruit of the body—that is, children and children’s children—a fruit of the Spirit, purifying to God the whole lineage and whole household just as if it were a single soul, and making marriage commendable through her pleasing life within it and the goodly fruitfulness resulting from it. While she lived, she set herself as an exemplar of every virtue before her children; and after she was called away, she left behind for her house her will as a silent exhortation.

^C IX. For the divine Solomon, in his pedagogical wisdom—I mean in the Proverbs ^D (Prov. xxxi, seqq.)—praises the woman who remains at home and loves her husband, and he opposes her to the woman who wanders outside, is wanton and infamous, and who ensnares precious souls with harlot-like gestures and names. He lauds her who conducts herself virtuously within, who executes the duties of a woman with a manly spirit, who always sets her hands to the spindle, and prepares double garments for her husband; who buys a field at the right time, who diligently provides food for her servants, who receives friends at a full table, and who performs all the other things that he proclaimed of the honest and industrious matron. I...

however, if I were to praise my sister from these things, would be doing the same as if I were to praise a statue from its shadow, or a lion from its claws, neglecting greater and more perfect things. Who was ever more worthy to be seen? Yet who was seen less, inasmuch as she kept herself inaccessible to the gaze of men? Who knew better the measure of somberness and cheerfulness, so that neither did her somberness appear inhuman, nor her softness lascivious, but rather the former earned the praise of prudence, and the latter that of gentleness, and this was as it were the norm of modesty, being joined and tempered with humanity and greatness of soul? Hear, O women, you who ^B labor under an excessive desire for ostentation and sloth, and who despise the veil of shame. Who checked her eyes in such a way? Who so mocked laughter, that even to have smiled slightly seemed to her almost too much? Who placed doors upon her ears more effectively? Or who, conversely, opened them more to the divine word, or rather, who appointed the mind as leader of the tongue to recount the justifications of God? Who so prescribed order for her lips?

X. Would you like me to tell you this also from her praises; that she herself esteemed such things as nothing, just as do all who are truly modest and of decent character; but it has come about through the vice of those who are led by an excessive desire for adornment and elegance, and because they are not cleansed by the discourse of those who teach abstinence from these things, that this seems something great and renowned. No gold, worked by art to extraordinary beauty, adorned her; no yellow hair, at once transparent and shimmering, no knots of hair and impostures, turning a precious head into a stage with the utmost infamy; no magnificence of flowing and transparent clothing; no splendors of stones and graces, coloring the nearby air and shedding light around her form; no arts and deceits of painters ^C and the basely and cheaply bought beauty, and the earthly shaper working to the contrary, and masking the figment of God with insidious colors, and bringing shame through an honor, and proposing the divine form as a harlot’s idol to wanton eyes, so that the adulterated beauty might steal away the natural image, which is preserved for God and the future age. But although she knew many and various external adornments of women, yet she [judged] none more precious than her own character and the brilliance laid up within. One redness was pleasing to her, that of modesty; one whiteness, that from self-restraint. And the writings ^D

the paintings, and the living portraits, and the flowing beauty of form, she left to those on the stage and in the crossroads, and to those for whom it is a shame and a disgrace to feel shame.

^B XI. And these things are indeed such as they are. But there is no one who could attain in words to her prudence and piety, nor could many examples be found, except for those of her parents, both according to the flesh and according to the spirit, looking only to whom, and in no way inferior to them in virtue, yet she yielded to them in this one respect most willingly, because she had received this good from them, acknowledging and confessing them to be the root of her own illumination. For what was more acute than that mind of hers, which not only those who belonged to her by birth, ^C nor those of the same people and of the same sheepfold, but even all those in the neighborhood acknowledged as a common counselor, making her counsels and exhortations an inviolable law? And what was more prudent than her words? What more sensible than her silence? But since I have mentioned silence, I will add that which was most proper to her, and most becoming for women, and most useful for the present time. Who knew divine things better, both from the divine oracles and from her own intelligence and sagacity? And who, on the other hand, spoke less, containing herself within the feminine bounds of piety? Now, as befitted a woman who had truly set her mind to practice piety, and in which alone it is noble not to know satiety, who adorned temples with so many offerings, both others and this one, which I know not if it will be adorned after her? Or rather, who so presented herself as a living temple to God? And who honored priests so much, and especially him whom she had as her fellow-warrior and teacher of piety, ^D I mean him whose good seeds remain, and the pair of children consecrated to God?

XII. And who set open her home more to those who live according to God, a beautiful reception, and one that makes rich? And what is more, who welcomed them so with modesty and with strides pleasing to God? And furthermore, who showed a mind more unshaken in calamities? Who a soul more sympathetic to those who were suffering? Who a hand more generous to those in need?

^A Indeed, I would not hesitate to boast of her using the words of Job: "Her door was open to every comer, and no stranger remained outside." She was an eye to the blind, a foot to the lame, and a mother to the fatherless. And as to her humanity and mercy toward widows, what greater thing is needed to be said than that she drew from this the fruit that she was nicknamed "widow" by no one? Her house was a place of common hospitality for those of her kin laboring in want. Her wealth was no less common to all the poor than each person’s own resources were to them. "He dispersed, he gave to the poor," and because of the firmness and supreme truth of the divine promise, she stored up much in heavenly granaries; and by doing good to many, she often welcomed Christ himself. And what is most distinguished, she did not study so much to seem good as to be so in truth; nay, rather, in secret she cultivated her piety brilliantly before Him who sees things hidden. She snatched everything from the prince of this world; she transferred everything into those safe granaries. She left nothing to the earth except her body. She exchanged all things for the hopes of the beyond; she left her children one wealth: her own example and the pursuit of the same praises. ^B XIII. And indeed, her greatness of soul was not merely so great and so incredible, while she surrendered her body to delights and the unbridled pleasures of the belly—to that rabid, I say, and tearing dog—as if, forsooth, trusting in her own liberality and beneficence, just as most people are accustomed to do, who redeem their luxury and delights by mercy toward the poor, and do not heal evil with good, but receive evil in exchange for good; or perhaps she subdued the dust ^C with fastings, but left the remedy of the pallet—that is, sleeping on the ground—to another; or perhaps she devised this as a support for the soul, but she was more moderate in sleep than anyone else; or perhaps she imposed this law upon herself as if she were devoid of a body, yet while others passed the night standing upright—a struggle which is especially that of philosophical men—she bowed herself to the earth; or perhaps in this matter she surpassed not only women, but even the strongest men in greatness of soul, while [she occupied herself] with a prudent tone of psalmody, or with the reading and explanation of the divine oracles, or with timely remembrance, or with the bending of the knees which had become calloused ^D from labor and, as it were, clung to the ground, or with tears washing away the stains of the soul in a contrite heart and a spirit of humility, or with prayer placing her on high, and with a mind unswerving and uplifted; of all these things, or of which of these is there any man or woman who could boast to have surpassed her? But these are great things indeed to say, and it is true that she set her zeal…

^A on them; for one she found, and another she conquered. And if in any one of these she had an equal, yet because she gathered all things into one, she mastered them all. Thus she brought all things to perfection, as no other, even in a moderate degree; thus she reached the summit of each, so that even one alone would have sufficed in place of all, and that one alone.

XIV. O squalid body, and garment blooming with virtue alone! O soul, keeping the body almost without food, as if it were immaterial! Or, to speak more correctly, O body, even before the release, forced to die, so that the soul might obtain freedom and not be hindered by the senses! O sleepless nights, and psalmody, and station extended from day to day! O David, how you sang not too lengthily for pious souls alone! O tender limbs prostrate on the ground, and exasperating themselves contrary to nature! ^B O fountains of tears, which were sown in affliction, so that they might reap in exultation! O nocturnal cry piercing the clouds and reaching to God! O fervor of spirit, for the desire of prayer, fearing neither nocturnal dogs, nor cold, nor rains, nor thunders, nor hail, nor darkness! O feminine nature, which for the sake of the common struggle of salvation has surpassed the male sex, and has made it manifest that male and female is a distinction of the body, not of the soul! O purity after the bath, and the soul as the bride of Christ in the pure bridal chamber of the body! O bitter taste, ^C and Eve, the mother both of our race and of sin, and the deceitful serpent, and death, conquered by her continence! O the emptying of Christ, and the form of a servant, and the passions, honored by her mortification!

XV. O! how shall I either enumerate all that was hers, or by omitting the greater part, do a disservice to those who are ignorant of it? But it would be well for me now to add the rewards of piety also; for it seems to me that you, who know her life well, have long been desiring and seeking in my discourse, not only the present blessings, and those for which she now exults there—which exceed the capacity of human ears, mind, and eyes—but also those which that just rewarder ^D bestowed upon her in this life; for he does this often for the edification of the unbelievers, confirming great things by small, and by visible things

^A that which is invisible. But I will speak of some things that are known to everyone, and of other things that are hidden from the many; and this too because of her philosophy, that she did not pride herself in her gifts. You know of those mules driven by madness, and the seizing of the carriage, and that deplorable overturn, and the terrible dragging, and the evil fractures, and the scandal that arose from this for those alien to the faith—that the righteous should be delivered up in such a way—and the swift correction of that unbelief. For when she was crushed and broken in all her bones and limbs, both those that were visible and those hidden from view, she would not endure any physician other than Him who had delivered her up; at once feeling shame before the eyes and hands of men (for she preserved her modesty and sense of decorum even in the midst of her very pains), and at once seeking her defense from Him who had permitted her to suffer these things, and she obtained salvation from no other than Him. Through this it came to pass that some were not so much struck by this calamity as they were ^B stunned by the unexpected miracle of her restored health, and for this reason this tragedy seemed to have occurred so that she might derive glory and splendor from her calamities; for while she was indeed affected by pain as a human being, yet she was healed more surpassingly than the human condition would seem to allow, and she afforded to those who came after a narration that served as a supreme argument for faith in afflictions and for constancy in grave and dangerous matters, and a greater demonstration of God’s kindness toward such people. For to that which was well said concerning the righteous man: *When he falls, he shall not be dashed to pieces* (Ps. XXXVI, 24), something more novel was added: Even if he be dashed to pieces, he shall most quickly be restored and shall be glorified. For if she suffered beyond what was expected, yet she also returned to herself beyond what was expected, so that the ailment was almost stolen away by the health, and the healing was even more manifest than the wound had been.

XVI. O laudable and admirable calamity! O passion more sublime than immunity from suffering! O how these words, *He shall strike and bind up, and he shall heal, and on the third day he shall raise up* (Ose. VI, 2), even though they tended toward something higher and more mystical—as indeed they did tend—nevertheless beautifully befit the calamity of this woman! But this is known to everyone, even to those far removed from us; for the report of this miracle has reached everyone, and this story, along with the other admirable works and powers of God, is upon everyone's tongue and in everyone's ears. But as to that which even now is unknown and hidden from the many because of the philosophy I mentioned, and because of the absence of pride and vanity in her piety, do you wish me now to bring it forth, ^C O most excellent and perfect of shepherds, O you who are the shepherd of that sacred sheep?

And do you now consent to this? Since we alone were entrusted with the mystery, and we are each other's witnesses ^A to the miracle, shall we keep the faith given to the departed any longer? But it seems to me that just as there was a time for silence then, so now there is a time for speaking out, not only for the glory of God, but also for the consolation of those who are oppressed by afflictions.

XVII. She was seized by an adverse state of body, and suffered gravely, and the disease was of an unusual and strange kind: a sudden inflammation, to be sure, of the whole body, and a kind of boiling up, and a heat of the blood, and then its coagulation, and numbness, and an incredible pallor, and a paralysis of the mind and limbs; and this did not occur at long ^B intervals, but was sometimes even very frequent and assiduous. And this evil was not thought to be human, and neither were the arts of physicians, who examined the suffering with great diligence—both each one for himself and together with one another—adequate to repel the pain; nor were the tears of her parents, which had often availed much, nor public prayers and suppliant orisons, which the whole people made as if for their own salvation. For they were all of such a mind that they considered her salvation to be their own, just as, conversely, they considered her sickness to be a common disease and calamity.

XVIII. What then does that great soul, worthy of the greatest things, do, and what medicine does she apply to her pain? For here now the secret lies. Having despaired of all other aids, she flees to the physician of all mortals, and having seized the dead of night, ^C when the disease had remitted somewhat, she falls before the altar with faith, and calling upon Him who is honored upon it with a great cry, and invoking Him by all names, and reminding Him of all that He had ever done miraculously (for she was wise in both ancient and new histories), she is finally carried away by a pious and noble shamelessness. She imitates the woman who had staunched the flow of blood with the fringe of Christ's garment. For what does she do? Having placed her head upon the altar ^D with the same cry, and with tears that were rich, just as someone once watered the feet of Christ, and threatening that she would not let go before she obtained health—then, having anointed her whole body with this medicine of hers, and mingling with her tears whatever she had anywhere stored up of the antitypes of the precious body or blood.

(O the miracle!) she departed straightway, having perceived her salvation. She was light in body, soul, and mind, having received as the reward of her hope that which she had hoped for, and having by the vigor of her soul recovered that of her body. These things are great, indeed, but they are not false. Believe them all of you, both sick and healthy: that you who are sick may have health, and you who are healthy may preserve it. And that this narrative is not a boast, it is evident from the fact that I concealed it while she was alive, and have only now revealed it; and even now I would not have published it, know well, if a certain fear had not seized me, of hiding so great a miracle from both the faithful and the unbelievers, and from those who are now and those who are to come. ^B

XIX. Such, then, was her life. We have passed over many other things, both for the sake of the proportion of the discourse and so that we might not seem to be insatiably greedy in our praise; though we would perhaps be doing an injury to her holy and celebrated death, if we did not also commemorate her praises; especially since she herself so desired and required it. I will commemorate them, however, as briefly as possible. She desired to be dissolved (for she had great boldness toward Him by whom she was called), and to be with Christ, which she preferred to all the things of earth. And no one of those who are very prone to love, and can with difficulty be restrained, so loves the body as she, having shaken off these fetters and overcome this mire with which we live, longed to be purely united with that Fair One, and to embrace Him wholly whom she loved, and I will add, by whom she was loved, ^C by whose tiny rays we are now illuminated, and from whom, as far as He can be known, we are separated. Nor is she defrauded of so sublime and divine a desire; and what is greater than this, she anticipates that good through foreknowledge and much vigil. This is followed by a sleep most sweet, and a single vision embracing her departure from life at a predetermined time, and pointing out the very day; God, of course, ordaining this, so that she might be ready and not troubled.

XX. Now, as for the good of purification and initiation, which is a common gift and the foundation of the second life that we all have received from God, she had received it recently. Or rather, her whole life was nothing else than a purification and perfection. And she had the regeneration indeed from the Spirit, but her security was from her previous life. And for her alone almost, if I may speak boldly, the baptism was a seal, but not a grace.

^A

And seeking that the perfection of her husband might be added to all these things (do you wish that I describe the man briefly? her husband: for I know not what more it is necessary to say), so that he might be consecrated to God in his whole body, and she might not depart perfected only by half, nor any part of her own remain incomplete, she did not fail to obtain this petition also from Him who does the will of those who fear Him, and brings their requests to fulfilment. ^B

XXI. But when all things were to her mind, and nothing of what she desired was lacking, and the day ^C of death was already at hand, she prepared herself for death and departure, and fulfilled the law regarding these things by taking to her bed. And having given directions to her husband, and children, and friends, as it was fitting for one who loved her husband, and loved her children, and loved her brothers, and having philosophized brilliantly about the things hereafter, and having made her final day a festival, she falls asleep, full, not indeed of human days—which she did not even desire, inasmuch as she knew them to be evil for herself, and for the most part ^D joined with dust and error—but she was so full of days according to God, that I do not know if anyone of those who have died in the richest old age and counted many cycles of years has been as full. Thus she is released, or, to speak more correctly, she is taken, or she flies away, or she migrates, or she departs a little before the body.

XXII. But how something of her praise has escaped me! Perhaps you would not have permitted it, O spiritual father of hers, who also accurately observed this miracle, and disclosed it to us—a great thing, indeed, for her glory, but also for our sake as a memorial of virtue and a longing for such a dissolution. And a certain horror comes over me, and tears at the same time, remembering the miracle. She was already being released and was breathing her last, and there was a chorus around her of kin and strangers alike, performing the duties of escort for her; and the observation of her aged mother, and the soul’s contortion, following her departure with jealousy, and the love of all mixed with anxiety—some wishing to hear something, a store for their memory, others desiring to speak, but no one daring to. And the tears were silent, and the pain of sorrow was unhealed (for it did not seem holy to honor with lamentations one who was being separated in this way), but there was a deep silence, and a certain ritual...

^A aspect to her death. But she, as far as could be surmised from her appearance, was breathless and motionless and silent, and the stillness of her body seemed like paralysis, as if the vocal organs were already paralyzed by the departure of the one who moved them. But the pastor, who kept watch over everything of hers with such care, perceiving that her lips were gently moving—being one who, because of the miracle which was shining forth in all things, was diligently observing her every deed and word—and having brought his ear closer (for both his own character and his sympathy made him confident), ^B tell us yourself what was the mystery of that silence, what it was and of what kind; no one will disbelieve you as you speak. The murmuring sound was psalmody, and the words of the psalmody were those of leave-taking; or rather, if one must speak the truth, it was a testimony of the boldness with which her departure was made. And blessed is he who rests with those words: "In peace I will both sleep and take my rest." These things, O most beautiful of women, were being sung over you, and so it happened; and the psalmody was what was taking place, and following her departure was her funeral oration. O you who have so well found peace from your pains, and who have received the sleep owed to the beloved, along with the common rest of sleep, as is fitting for one who lived and departed in the steps of piety.

XXIII.

in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory, and to the Father with the Holy Spirit for ever and ever. Amen.

NOTICE REGARDING ORATIONS IX, X, AND XI

I. In most manuscripts of superior quality, and even in the interpreters themselves, these three orations are arranged in this order. They concern Sasima, that is, the ordination of Gregory to the bishopric of Sasima; and for this reason, they were delivered in the same year, namely the middle of 372. The first was delivered when, overcome by the reverence he felt for his aged father, by the friendship of Basil, and by fear, he "bent his neck," as Gregory himself says, to the new bishopric of Sasima, "but did not bend his spirit" (91). The second, when he returned from the flight which he had undertaken after his consecration, confesses that he is "bound in Christ, not with iron chains, but constrained by the most tenacious bonds of the spirit," and led by old age and friendship (92). The last, finally, not long after, was delivered before Gregory of Nyssa, whom Basil had sent to our Gregory in order to "console his mind, anguished on account of the consecration" (93).

II. These three orations have the same scope and the same argument. If we are to trust Tillemont, we must believe the first was delivered after the imposition of hands had already been received. But on this matter, interpreters and scholars differ. For there are those who think otherwise than Tillemont. Indeed, Leuvenklaius, preserving the title of this oration—extracted, perhaps, from original parchments—translates it thus: "Oration delivered to his father and the great Basil, when the latter was about to create him bishop of Sasima." Elias also interprets it in this way in his argument: "At the time when he was about to be created bishop of Sasima." Bilibaldus also says in the superscription of the oration: "when he had been created bishop of Sasima, but not yet inaugurated." From which one may conjecture that the things said here can be understood not as a completed ordination, but as one designated and soon to be; and therefore nothing at all forbids one from asserting that only Gregory’s consent to his own ordination is expressed by this oration. And indeed, this consent of the Theologian is certainly no small matter, nor is it unworthy of being celebrated by a special oration. For from this, the love of quiet and solitude had to be overcome; from this, fear and reverence in the face of honors, especially those that are sacred and ecclesiastical; from this, finally, the considerations of place and circumstances, all of which greatly deterred Gregory’s mind. It is no wonder, therefore, that he provided this consent so slowly and so reluctantly.

III. It is asked, however, whether Gregory was consecrated at Sasima, or at Caesarea, or at Nazianzus. There will be no difficulty in pronouncing on this matter. Certainly not at Sasima; for the Theologian himself openly confesses (94) that "he never reached the church of Sasima assigned to him, nor did he perform any sacred rite there, nor did he offer prayers to God with the people, nor, finally, did he lay his hands on anyone." He certainly could not have said this if he had been consecrated in the church of Sasima. The matter is self-evident. Nor at Caesarea; and first of all, Gregory the Elder was present at this consecration, whose advanced age did not allow him to travel to Caesarea; furthermore, if he had gone there, the Theologian would undoubtedly not have passed over it in silence. His silence in this matter is a very strong argument that he was not consecrated at Caesarea. Therefore, he was inaugurated as bishop of the church of Sasima at Nazianzus, and Basil himself laid his hands on him there. This seems manifest from these words of Gregory (95): "There came to us Basil, most dear to me, a father to me much harder than the other," etc.

IV. That Gregory was anointed by Basil, even from the beginning, is made clear by the tenth oration. Gregory the Elder was present for it. Several other consecrating prelates were also present, as is gathered from these words of the ninth oration (n. 6): "Shepherd me, and with me this sacred flock." Indeed, from that context, Tillemont conjectures that some deputies from the Sasimenses were present at Gregory’s consecration, acting in the place of the "flock." But let us grant this for the moment: two or three deputies can never be signified by the name of "the flock," especially when mixed and confused in a larger multitude, in which they hardly count as a number. Therefore, the words praised by Tillemont should be understood not of the Sasimenses present—even if some should eventually have been present—but of those generally who were committed by the bishops to his faith, as Sasimenses indeed, even if not necessarily present. Hence the scholiast, who comments on this place of the same ninth oration (n. 3): "That the Spirit might use me as a minister, for the perfection of this people," etc., strikes out the demonstrative article "this," so that, with the ambiguity of that word removed, the proposition may be taken generally. We confess, however, that the tenth oration, in Leuvenklaius, is inscribed: "To the Sasimenses." But this is a manifest error, from

what we have said is sufficiently refuted. The most learned Petitdidier initiates another path; for he wishes this tenth oration to have been written only for the Sasimens, not spoken. But such is the agreement and connection of these orations among themselves that, if you were to grant that one was not spoken, you would be forced to concede that none of them were spoken at all. This, however, is repugnant to these words of Gregory: "Behold the very discourse which you [Basil] asked me to share with you, as you were cognizant of it." And elsewhere: "I could not even bear to share these discourses with my most loving brothers"; from which it is manifest that these orations of Gregory were truly delivered. ^A

ORATION IX

Apologeticus to his father Gregory, in the presence of Basil the Great, when he was created bishop of Sasima.

I. Once again the anointing and the Spirit are upon me, and once again I walk about mourning and dejected. Nor should this seem marvelous to you; for the prophet Isaiah himself, before he had witnessed the glory of the Lord, and that high and exalted throne, and the seraphim encompassing Him, spoke nothing of this kind, nor did he resist, nor was he shaken by fear; rather he cried out against the Israelites, while sparing and refraining from himself, as one who was in no way blameworthy. But after he saw these things, and heard that holy and mystical voice, then, as if realizing his own state more fully, he said: "Woe is me, for I am ^B pricked," and what follows in the passage, that I may avoid blasphemy.

And I find that ancient judge Manoah in the Book of Judges, and later Peter, the pillar of the Church: the one saying, "We have perished, O woman, for we have seen God," because he had perceived a vision greater than what his nature and strength could bear; and the other, unable to endure the presence and power of the Savior, which He had displayed to those sailing with Him during the fishing, and because of this, though seized with admiration, he nonetheless sent Him away from the boat, and added the reason, that he was unworthy of the divine epiphany ^C and discourse.

II. Now, when I hear in the Gospels of the centurion, who sought Christ’s power but deprecated His presence, as his roof was too narrow for it to contain such divine magnitude and dignity, I truly cannot reproach myself for this timidity ^D and...

sadness on account of any grievance. For just as the sun reveals the weakness of the eyes, in the same way God by His presence exposes the infirmity of the soul; and to some He is light, to others fire, to each according to the underlying matter and quality. What are we to think of Saul? For he was anointed and received the Spirit, and at that time he was spiritual—nor could I speak otherwise of him—and he even prophesied, and this so far beyond the expectation and opinion of men that from that miracle there flowed this proverb, which is still repeated and heard even now: “Is Saul also among the prophets?” Since, however, he did not surrender himself entirely to the Spirit, and was not purely and integrally changed into another man, as it had been declared, but some spark of the old wickedness and of the evil seed remained, and there was a conflict within him between the spirit and the flesh; what need is there to recount all his calamities with tragic speech? You know that opposing spirit, and the Psalmist, by whose singing he was soothed. ^B And so, from this it is also clearly shown that, although divine grace does not in the least flow into the unworthy, nor into an instrument that is evil and utterly devoid of all harmony (for it is well said that “wisdom will not enter into a malicious soul,” and I believe it), yet to preserve and keep its dignity and harmony—as my argument contends—is a task no less than to have been rightly led to harmony from the beginning and to have attained that dignity, given the changeability and inconstancy of human habit and nature. Indeed, as I myself think, grace itself—which is the most miserable and most wondrous of all our evils—often generates in us pride and elation, and thus it casts and drives us away from God, to whom we have not approached as we ought, and so, while we are exalted, we fall, so that sin may become exceeding sinful, surely bringing death upon me through that which is good.

III.

^A And for the instruction that is in word and that which is in deed—using the armor of righteousness on the right hand and on the left—this is suitable for pastoral care: to draw away from the world, to lead to God, to exhaust the body but add to the spirit, to flee darkness, to rejoice in light, to drive away wild beasts, to gather the fold, to take heed of precipices and desolate wildernesses, and to drive the flocks toward mountains and heights. Regarding these, it seems to me that the most admirable Micah also speaks, drawing us up from the earth to our own heights: "Draw near unto the eternal mountains." Arise and walk, for this is not your rest, even if to some it may seem that earthly and downward-tending things are indeed such.

IV. Teach me this art of governing the flock, my friends, who are henceforth my fellow-shepherds and colleagues ^B. Give me its tokens, both you, the common Father, who in so long a life have fashioned and replaced many shepherds, and you, the examiner and judge of my philosophy. But (I pray you, kindly accept what I shall say) is it possible that, while we are tossed in the midst of a storm and deafened on all sides by the clamor of the waves, we can skillfully tend and pasture the flock? You, I say, whom I call upon, who were more humane among the sheep—unless this remark offends you—when we were both participants in irrational pasture, than you are now among the shepherds, after we have been deemed worthy, by divine grace, of spiritual pasture. Behold, what you desired, you now have me in your power, and you have overcome the invincible! And lo, you have the discourse as well, which you knew and were seeking, and which, while praising it, you were nonetheless attacking for its delay with many and dense snows of words.

V. But I have something to reproach a friend for. Who among our common friends shall settle my case? Or who will be an impartial judge, so as to bring forth a just verdict, and not yield to the passion of the many, and show partiality ^C in judgment? Do you permit me to state the complaint, and will you not once again thrust the goad of your discourse into me? There was a certain secret between you and me, O admirable man, a secret truly incredible and as yet [not previously]...

persuaded, but constrained. O, what a marvel! How all things have become new! And how great a distance separates us! What shall I wish to say—is it the throne, or the greatness of the grace? ^B Yet, lead the way, and prosper, and reign, and shepherd us who are shepherds. We are truly ready to follow, and to be led by your high and godly soul—for the truth shall be spoken, even if I have dared ever so slightly against the law out of love. Teach your love regarding the flocks: your diligence that is at once careful and wise, the supervision, the vigils, the subjugation of your flesh which you have made subordinate to the spirit, the flower of your complexion that fades for the sake of the flock, that sharpness of intellect tempered with gentleness, that serenity and mildness in the conduct of affairs (a thing not found in many, nor having many examples), ^C the battles undertaken for the safety of the flock, and the victories which you have won in Christ.

VI. Tell me what pastures must be sought, what fountains approached, and conversely which pastures and streams are to be avoided; who are to be guided by the staff, and who by the pipe; at what time the flock is to be led to pastures, and at what time it is to be called back from them; how one must wage war against wolves, and how one must not wage war against fellow-shepherds—especially in this present time, when shepherds have acted foolishly and scattered the sheep from the pasture, ^D so that I might lament the same things in the same words as the most holy prophets. How shall I strengthen that which is weak, and raise up that which has fallen, and turn back that which has wandered, and seek that which has perished, and guard that which is strong? How, I say, shall I learn these things and guard them according to the correct principle of the pastoral art and your own? And let me not become a bad shepherd, consuming the milk, and clothing myself with the wool, and slaughtering or selling the fattest, while leaving the rest to the wild beasts and the precipices, feeding myself and not the sheep, for which the leaders of Israel of old were reproached. Teach me these things, and support me with these words. And along with these, shepherd and join in shepherding with these commands, and preserve—as by instruction, so also by prayers—both me and this sacred flock, for my security and for your boasting in the day of the appearing and revelation of the great God and our chief shepherd, Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom be glory to the Father Almighty, together with the holy and life-giving Spirit, now and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

ORATIO X. On himself, to his father, and to Basil the Great, after his return from flight.

I. Nothing is stronger than old age, and nothing more venerable than friendship. ^A I have been brought to you by these, bound in Christ, not with chains of iron, but bound with the indissoluble bonds of the Spirit. For some time I thought myself strong and invincible, and—O, the folly!—I did not grant my words even to these, my most loving brothers and friends, in order that I might have leisure and practice philosophy in quiet, having left all things to those who wished for them, and conversing only with myself and the Spirit. I contemplated in my mind the Carmel of Elijah and the wilderness of John, and the heavenly manner of life of those who profess this kind of philosophy; and I considered present affairs to be a storm, and I searched for some rock, or a precipice, or a wall under which I might be sheltered. "Let the honors and the toils be others'," I said; "let the wars and the victories be others'; but for me, let this be sufficient: while fleeing from, wars, and casting my eyes upon myself, to live as I am able, like one crossing a small sea on a narrow raft, and through a poor and meager manner of life, obtaining for myself a small dwelling in the next age." ^B Perhaps this counsel is that of men of low estate, but it is certainly safer for those looking out for themselves; it is, in effect, to stand at an equal interval from both the highest peak and a fall.

II. So far as I was permitted to write these things, I was still able to paint shadows and dreams, and to feed my mind upon empty phantasms. But what now? Friendship has laid hold of me, and the gray hairs of my father have overcome me; a wisdom, I say, white-headed, a deadline of life, a safer harbor, and the friendship of one who is rich in God and makes others rich. For I am already casting off my anger (let the meek hear and be glad); ^C and I gaze with a peaceful countenance upon this hand which brought violence upon me, and I smile in the Spirit, and my breast is stilled, and my reason returns; and friendship, like some flame, though put to sleep and extinguished, lives again and is kindled once more from a tiny spark. My soul refused to be comforted, and my spirit was vexed within me. I said, "I shall never again put my trust in friendship." And why, I pray, should I place my hope in a man? Because every man walks deceitfully, and every brother will supplant his neighbor, and we are all ^D from the same

^A earth and the same lump of clay, and we have tasted of the same tree of vice. Why, then, does one man display a more specious mask than another? And what use, I used to say, was that famous and celebrated friendship to me, which started from the world and progressed to the spirit? What use was it to have had the same roof and the same table? What use the same teachers and the same disciplines? What, finally, was the point of that combination of ours, which surpassed brotherly love, or of this sincere consensus of minds that followed later, if I were not even permitted to remain in a humble station during a time of sovereignty and high office; especially when many strive for the contrary and gain their desire—that is, to possess power next in rank and to participate in the prosperity of their friends?

III. On the Duty of Friendship

^B III. But what point is there in recounting all those things which sorrow and despondency—which I call the darkness of the mind—dreamt up? For these things were indeed uttered, and even more absurd things than these; for I shall be the first to accuse myself, whether one ought to call it stubbornness or folly. But now I retract my speech and refashion it, and I shall say things that are both much truer and more worthy of us. And so that you may understand, my distinguished friend, how sincere this change of ours is, you have not only succeeded in breaking the silence for which you chided me, and about which you raised such a clamor, but you also have the words themselves as your defenders. This is already a sure proof of our pure friendship and of the Spirit that dwells in us. But what is this defense? And if I commit any error, you yourself must correct it, as you are accustomed to do in other matters. You could not bear to make friendship for the Spirit a second priority; for, while I perhaps value myself more highly than others, you value the Spirit in me far more highly. You could not bear ^C for the talent to be buried and hidden in the ground; you could not bear for the lamp to be covered for long by a bushel, because you consider this to be my light and my labor. You sought for Barnabas to be added to Paul for your sake; you sought for Titus to be joined to Silas and Timothy, so that your gift might run its course through those who sincerely care for you, and that you might fulfill the Gospel in a circle from Jerusalem to Illyricum.

^D IV. For this reason you bring me into the midst, and you lay hands upon me as I try to escape, and you seat me beside you. "This," you would say, "is that injury I have inflicted upon you," and you make me a partner in your cares and your crowns. For this reason you anoint me as high priest, and you clothe me in the long garment, and you place the miter upon my head, and you bring me to the altar of spiritual holocaust, and you sacrifice the

you consecrate your hands to the Spirit, and introduce them to the Holy of Holies to gaze upon the mysteries, and you make them a minister of the true tabernacle, which the Lord pitched, and not man. But if this anointing is worthy of you who anoint, and of him for whom it is performed, and toward whom it tends, the Father of that true and genuine Christ knows this—the One whom He anointed with the oil of gladness above His fellows, having anointed humanity with divinity, so as to make both one. God Himself, our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained reconciliation, knows this—as does the Holy Spirit, who has set us in this ministry, in which we also stand and boast in the hope of the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.

ORATION XI

I. There is no comparison for a faithful friend, and no weight is worthy of his goodness. A faithful friend is a strong protection, and a fortified palace. A faithful friend is a living treasure. A faithful friend is above gold and much precious stone. A faithful friend is a garden enclosed, a fountain sealed, which are opened and shared at the proper time. A faithful friend is a harbor of solace. But if he also excels in prudence and judgment, how highly should this be valued? And if he is, moreover, instructed in the highest learning, and indeed in learning of every kind—I mean both our own and that which was once ours—how much more brilliant is that? But if, in addition to these gifts, it is added that he is a son of light, or a man of God, or one approaching near to God, or a man of good desires, or worthy of being called by any of those names by which Scripture honors the godly, the exalted, and those of the heavenly portion, this is already a gift of God, and clearly beyond our own merit. But if he also comes to us from a friend, and one who is his equal in virtue and in his friendship toward us, it is even more delightful and pleasant, and more fragrant than that ointment that adorned the beard of the priest and the hem of his garment.

^B II. Are these things, then, sufficient, and has the discourse depicted the man for you with moderation? Or must we, like diligent painters, apply the colors time and again, so that we may present to you a more perfect portrait in our discourse? And indeed, we shall draw him for you both more perfectly and more clearly. Who is the most illustrious of legislators? Moses. Who is the most holy of priests? Aaron: brothers no less in piety than in body; or rather, the one was God to Pharaoh, and the leader and legislator of Israel, entering into the cloud, both spectator and initiator of divine mysteries, and craftsman of that true tabernacle which the Lord pitched, and not man; yet both were equally priests. For he says, "Moses and Aaron are among his priests." The one is the prince of princes and the priest of priests, using Aaron for a tongue, and himself in turn laboring for him in matters pertaining to God: the other is immediately second to him, yet far preceding all others in dignity and proximity to God. Both harassing Egypt, dividing the sea, leading Israel through, drowning the enemies, drawing bread from above, bringing forth water in the desert that defied human belief, here pouring it out, there sweetening it; both warring against Amalek by the holy extension of their hands, in the figure of a greater mystery; both presenting themselves as guides and hurrying toward the promised land. Does anything more familiar or more manifest exist in an image? Has not the painter-discourse clearly delineated for you the man who is my namesake and of one soul with me?

^C III. One of these anointed us and brought us forth from our hiding place: though I know not what befell him, or how he was moved, unworthily of the Spirit that is in him—for even if the discourse be somewhat harsh, it shall be spoken nonetheless, since friendship will bear all things, both in suffering and in hearing—but the other has come to exhort us, to confirm us, and to render us mild through the Spirit. And indeed, although I consider his coming even now to be of the greatest importance (nor is it any wonder, since I have always set you before all others in my life), yet this is troublesome, that he arrived later than the situation required. In what manner, O best of friends and allies, do reinforcements arrive after the defeat and the hostile onslaught? In what manner does the governor arrive after the storm, and the medicine after the wound? Whether as a brother-lover do you feel ashamed of the tyranny? Or were you yourself, as a ruler, indignant at the disobedience? Which of the brothers do you accuse, or which do you excuse from blame? I shall say something ^D to you later.

^A regarding the words of Job, even I who am suffering, and speaking to a friend, even if it is not such a one, nor under the same afflictions. To which side do you incline? Or whom are you about to help? Is it not the one who has great strength 91? Is it not the one who has great wisdom and knowledge? For I see many of the present judges suffering from this, who would more readily concede the greatest things to the high-born than the smallest to the lowly. But this, of course, you yourself would know; for it is not right for me to pronounce anything concerning you that is not good, since I set you up as a standard and rule of every good thing. And at the same time, I have been admonished 92 by Scripture 93—which is to be brought to mind 94—not to be quick to judge. I, for my part, am ready to render an account of my speech, to you, and to anyone who wishes 95, for the sake of friendship, whether for my disobedience, as some might call it, or for my foresight, as I persuade myself, and for my caution, as you might perceive, being a friend who does not act 96 in an entirely absurd and ignorant manner; but one who is also able to discern some things better than the many, and who is confident where it is worth being confident, but fears where there is reason for fear, and [fears] those things which even those who have understanding fear, or rather, things that are even more to be feared.

IV. What then is pleasing, and what is more expedient?

^A they receive from us, as well as that which is stored up in the heavens, whose memorials and small tokens are the things that are seen. Let us join battle against the principalities and powers, against those invisible persecutors and tyrants, against the world-rulers of the darkness of this age, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places, and concerning heavenly things, against the war within and among ourselves, which is situated in the disturbances of the soul, and against the daily assaults of those things which befall us from without.

V. ^B Let us restrain anger as if it were a wild beast, and the tongue as a keen sword, and let us extinguish pleasure as if it were fire. Let us place doors upon our ears, to be opened and shut in due time; and let us discipline the eye; let us school our raving sense of touch, and our stinging sense of taste, lest death climb up through our windows—for this is the name by which I believe the senses are called—and let us laugh to scorn the immoderation of laughter. Let us not bend the knee to Baal out of necessity, nor let us worship the golden image out of fear. Let us fear this one thing only: to fear anything more than God, and to bring insult upon the divine image through a base manner of life. In all things let us take up the shield of faith, and let us escape all the darts of the wicked one. And this too is a terrible war, and this is a great battle-line, and this is a great trophy. If we have assembled thus, ^C or if we are thus competing, then in truth the festival is according to Christ, in truth we have honored the martyrs, or will honor them, in truth we are dancing a victory dance. But if we have assembled to indulge in the pleasures of the belly, and to enjoy fleeting and soon-to-perish delicacies, and to bring in what is destined for the waste-heap, and if these are places of gluttony and not of temperance, and we judge these times to be times of business and affairs, and not of ascent or of divinization—if I may be so bold as to say it—of which the martyrs are the mediators, then first of all, I do not acknowledge that this is appropriate to the occasion. For what has the chaff to do with the wheat? And what has ^D the pampering of the flesh to do with the struggles of the martyrs? Those things belong to the theaters, these to my assemblies; those belong to the profligate, these to the temperate; those belong to the flesh-lovers, these to those who are being loosed from the body. Next, I wish to say something even bolder, but I refrain from blasphemy out of reverence for the day; yet these are not the things they demand of you.

^A VI. Let us endeavor, brothers, not to celebrate holy things unholily, nor sublime things basely, nor things worthy of honor shamefully, and, to sum it up in a word, not to celebrate spiritual things in a worldly way. For the Jew, too, keeps feast days, but according to the letter; and the Gentile also celebrates, but only in a way that pleases the demons. But for us, inasmuch as all things are spiritual—action, movement, will, speech, and even our gait and dress, and even the nod of our eyes, with reason extending to all things and composing and moderating the man who is according to God—so too should be our manner of celebrating feasts and finding joy. For I do not forbid relaxation, but I restrain excess. If we gather in this way and celebrate the feasts, it would be a great thing to affirm that we shall attain the same rewards and inherit the same glory; for the things which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor human intellect ^B ever shaped—when creating blessedness by its own power and whim—we judge that these await those who have been purified by blood and have set before themselves the sacrifice of Christ to imitate; yet that, certainly, will come to pass for us: that we shall behold the splendor of the holy martyrs—which, in my opinion, should not be considered a light thing—and we shall enter into the joy of the same Lord, and shall be illuminated more clearly and purely by the light of the blessed and sovereign Trinity, in whom we have believed, whom we worship, and whom we confess before God and men, fearing nothing, dreading no one, neither external enemies, nor those false Christians who act among us, who are the enemies of the Holy Spirit. And may we confess until our last breath, with great boldness, that noble deposit of the holy Fathers, who were nearer to Christ and to the first faith—that confession which we drank in together with our milk, which we first uttered, and with which may we at the last depart from life, carrying off from hence, if nothing else, our piety.

^C VII. Now the God of peace, who reconciled us to Himself through the cross, when we had previously become His enemies through sin; He who preached peace to those who were near and to those who were far off, to those under the law and to those outside the law,

the Father of love, who is Love itself—for He delights in being called by these names above all others, that He might legislate ^A brotherly love, He who gave the new commandment to love one another even as we have been loved; He who grants us to rule well, and to be ruled, for the sake of fear, and to shrink back with reason [(29)], and in turn to take heart through reason; He who also equips the great flocks, and makes the small ones great through grace—may He Himself, according to the multitude of His goodness, console us with much consolation, and lead us forward [(30)], shepherding and preserving the flock with me; and may He equip you for every good work, and persuade you to celebrate the martyrs in a spiritual manner, and count you worthy of the delight from thence, where [(31)] is the dwelling place of all who rejoice, and having appeared in righteousness, may He sate them with His glory, He having appeared in Christ Jesus [(32)] our Lord, to whom be glory and power, honor and worship, for ever and ever. Amen. ^B

NOTICE ON ORATION XII

I. "He had bowed his neck to the hands of those inaugurating him, but not his soul," says Gregory (33). Accordingly, after he was ordained bishop, just as he had previously done after the order of priesthood was conferred upon him, he took to flight, which he had meditated doing almost at the very moment of the imposition of hands. Not only a love of solitude, but also a fear of contentions, persuaded him to this flight. For a great dissension had already broken out between Basil and Anthimus, one of whom was the prelate of Caesarea, the other of Tyana. Since Cappadocia had recently been divided into two provinces, or into First and Second Cappadocia, it came to pass that spiritual power was also divided into two metropolises. Basil presided over First Cappadocia, and Anthimus over the second. Hence the origin of the dissensions. For "very many" things "were being attached to the new metropolis from the former one (34)." The two prelates were disputing especially over Sasima. Therefore, our Theologian was created bishop of Sasima by Basil. But since the man of peace feared that he might appear to be waging war for the sake of the Sasimensian see, "he fled quickly to the mountain, that he might enjoy the delights of dear solitude, and give himself entirely to philosophy (35)," that is, to the exercise of the solitary and monastic life.

II. But Gregory, "constant in other things," as he himself testifies (36), "was sluggish in this, that he could not bear his father's anger." He yielded, therefore, to his parent and quickly returned from his flight. Then, his father began to exhort his son again and again, and more vehemently, to take up the governance of the Sasimensian Church. But he, persevering constantly in his purpose, refused altogether. Then at last his father, by prayers, by threats, by authority, and by arguments, obtained that his son, fellow-working with him, should take care of the Nazianzene Church, and like some great eagle flying very high, his offspring should not uselessly fly constantly around him nearby (37); yet on this condition, that he should not be unwillingly bound to this Church, and that, the parent being dead, he should have the free faculty of leaving and going wherever he wished.

III. On this occasion, therefore, and at this very time, namely at the end of the year 372, he delivered this twelfth oration. In it, he attributes due praises to Gregory his father, who, although "more powerful and more fervent" than any other (n. 3), sought a helper for himself, nor did he [seek] men's judgment

he feared them, especially at a time when "episcopal dignity, through the fault of many, was judged to be full of a kind of wonderful pleasure" (n. 3). He then explains his own desire for solitude and quiet on one hand, and on the other, the fear by which he is struck, lest he should fail God calling him and the service of the Church. Between these feelings—namely, "fear and desire"—he follows such a middle path that he satisfies partly desire and partly the Spirit (n. 5); and he thus makes an agreement that he would neither deny himself entirely to the Church, nor depart from the desire for his beloved solitude, if at some point it might be permitted for him to return to it. Whence he set the time for recovering his liberty at his parent's death; and he states this condition so clearly and so explicitly that it is a wonder that anyone exists, or ever has existed, who has called or believed our Theologian to have been the bishop of the Nazianzen Church.

ORATION XII

To his father, when he had committed to him the care of the Nazianzen Church.

I. I opened my mouth and drew in the Spirit, and I give all that is mine, and myself as well, as a gift to the Spirit—action and speech, leisure and silence. Let Him alone possess me, and lead me, and move my hand, and mind, and tongue toward those things which are necessary and which He wills; and let Him again lead me away from those things from which it is fitting and better to abstain. I am a divine instrument, an intellectual instrument, an instrument being tuned and played by a skilled Craftsman, that is, by the Holy Spirit. Did He work silence yesterday? I devoted myself to silence. Does He touch my mind today? I will utter the sound of speech, and I will devote myself to speaking. In truth, I am neither so talkative that I desire to speak when the Spirit elicits silence in me, nor so sluggish in silence and ignorance that, when it is appropriate to speak, I would set a guard upon my lips; but I open or close my door to the Mind, and to the Word, and to the Spirit, whose nature and divinity are one and the same.

II. I will speak, therefore, since I am commanded to do so; and indeed I have this speech for this good shepherd, and for you, the sacrosanct flock, saying those things which I judge to be better for me to say and for you to hear this day. What has befallen you, that you should have need of a colleague? For I will begin with you, O head dear and venerable to me, not inferior to that head of Aaron, upon which that spiritual and priestly oil flows down even to the beard and the garment. What is the cause, that while you are still able to support and guide many, and indeed are guiding them in the power of the Spirit, you should place a staff and a prop beneath your spiritual labors? Is it because it does not escape your notice that, along with that most illustrious man Aaron, Eleazar and Ithamar, the sons of Aa-

Aaron, were also anointed with the oil of priesthood? ^A For I shall purposefully pass over Nadab and Abihu, lest my speech import any evil omen. Furthermore, shall I pass over the fact that Moses, while he still enjoyed the span of his life, designated in his own place Joshua, who was to be the legislator and military commander for those hastening to the land of promise? (For I will not be unwilling to pass over that incident of Aaron and Hur, who supported the hands of Moses on the mountain so that Amalek might be overthrown by the cross, which was foreshadowed and prefigured so long before, as if it were not entirely suitable or applicable to us. For Moses did not have them as his associates in the institution of the laws, but took them as helpers in prayer and as a support for his weary hands.)

^B III. But what ails you, what is weakening? Is it your body? I am ready to support it; indeed, I have already supported it, and just as that Jacob of old, I have been supported in my turn by paternal blessings. But what of your spirit? Who is more valiant and more fervent, especially at this age, when the affection of the flesh subsides and gives way, like that which, by its presence, offers opposition and an impediment to the brilliance of light? For these usually wage war against each other and hold opposing camps; and the body is in good condition while the soul is weary, or the soul flourishes and has its eyes fixed on heaven while pleasures subside and wither away along with the body. But I have also admired your ^C ancient simplicity and nobility of spirit, in that you did not even foresee this—which is very common in these times—lest the spirit that moves you be thought a drone, and we appear to most people to be receiving these things in a carnal manner, even though we profess to receive them spiritually. Since, through the fault of the many, it has come to pass that this dignity, ample and royal, is judged to be full of a certain wondrous pleasure—however much someone may preside over a flock more restricted than this one of ours, and one that brings more troubles than pleasures. And as for your simplicity of soul, or your fatherly affection, by which it happens that you neither admit anything base yourself, nor rashly suspect it of others (for he who is not easily impelled to evil does not easily suspect evil of another), let these words of mine suffice. It follows now that I should address this brief oration to your—or rather, my—people.

^D IV. We have been tyrannized over, O friends and brothers; for your faith, if not at that time, now at least we shall call upon; we have been

^A oppressed by the old age of a father and a friend, to speak mildly, by his kindness. And I ask you, as each of you is able, bring help and stretch out a hand to one who is hard-pressed and torn between desire and the Spirit. The former urges flight, and mountains, and solitudes, and rest of soul and body, and for the mind to withdraw into itself, and to turn away from the senses, so that it may commune purely with God, and be illuminated clearly by the rays of the Spirit, with nothing of the lower and murky things mingling in, nor anything intruding upon the divine light, until we come to the source of these illuminations here, and stand, when our desire and yearning have been dissolved, and the mirrors have been removed by the truth. ^B But the Spirit desires to bring me into the midst, and that I should bear fruit for the common good, and that this should be of benefit—to benefit one another—and to make the illumination public, and to bring to God a chosen people, a holy nation, a royal priesthood, a purified image in many. For it is better and more excellent, just as a garden is more than a single plant, and an entire heaven with its own beauties is more than a single star, and a body is more than a single limb, so also, when one person helps an entire Church to be perfected for God, it is more excellent; and one ought not to look solely to his own interests, but also to those of others. For even Christ himself, though he could have remained in his own honor and divinity, did not only empty himself as far as the form of a servant, but even endured the cross, having despised shame, so that in his own sufferings he might consume sin, and by his death might kill death. Those are the figments of desire; these are the teachings of the Spirit. Being, then, between desire and the Spirit, and not knowing to which I should yield more, ^C I will share with you what I think I have found to be the most beautiful and safest way, so that you may help me to discern and take hold of this counsel.

V. It seemed to me, then, to be the best and safest course to take a middle path between desire and fear, and to satisfy desire in part and the Spirit in part. This, however, can be done if I neither flee the sacred office entirely—so that I might not, which is dangerous, reject grace—nor, on the other hand, take upon my shoulders a burden heavier than my strength can bear—which is troublesome and bitter. For the former belongs to another kind of head, and the latter to other kinds of strength; indeed, both are signs of a mind not entirely sound. But it is the mark of a pious man, who is also looking out for his own security, to measure the sacred function by his strength; ^D so that, just as in the case of food, one accepts what is in accordance with one's capacity, and rejects what is beyond one's strength; for thus health is produced in the body, and for the soul, security exists through moderation in both.

^A For this reason, I do not refuse to share duty with my noble father, like a chick not useless to a great and high-flying eagle, flying nearby. But after this, I will give my wing to the Spirit to be carried wherever He wishes, and in whatever way He wishes; nor will there be anyone who can force me or lead me elsewhere, while I consult with Him. For, while it is inherited labor from a father, and the flock is more familiar than that of a stranger and alien; I might add, that it is also dearer to God, if my affection does not deceive me and habit does not steal my perception; yet it is not more expedient than for willing leaders to preside over willing subjects, nor safer, since our law does not seek to lead by force, nor by compulsion, but voluntarily. For this ^B arrangement would not maintain another authority, since what is held by force loves to leap into freedom once it captures an opportunity; but ours is not an authority, but a guidance, and it preserves above all else the voluntary element. For the mystery of piety [is the possession of] those who are willing, not those who are tyrannized.

VI. ^C These are the things I have had to say to you, men of Nazianzus, simply and with all goodwill, and this is the secret of my mind. But may that prevail which is to profit both you and me, the Spirit indeed guiding our affairs (for the discourse again ascends to the same point), to Whom we have given ourselves, and whose head has been anointed with the oil of perfection in the Father Almighty, and the Only-Begotten Word, and the Holy Spirit and God. For how long shall we cover the lamp under a bushel, ^D and begrudge others of the perfect Godhead, when it ought already to be placed upon the lampstand and shine for all Churches and souls, and for the whole fullness of the inhabited world, no longer conjectured, nor shadowed forth in the mind, but openly and plainly proclaimed? Which indeed is the most perfect proof of theology for those who have been deemed worthy of this grace in the same Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory, honor, and power for ever and ever. Amen.

252 NOTICE ON ORATION XIII.

I. From the see of Doara (83), according to Tillemont (84), a heretical prelate, whose name is unknown, had been cast out by the Catholics. In his place, both Gregorios appointed Eulalius, a man most excellent in integrity of character and in his life, and who, having previously handled secular affairs with praise, had acquired for himself great glory. Interpreters differ among themselves regarding this Eulalius. Elias creates a false impression by thinking that he is the one to whom many of Gregorios’s letters exist. For that Eulalius was ordained bishop of Nazianzus by the Theologian long after, when he was already an old man. But the other, with whom we are concerned here, occupied the Doarean see when our Theologian himself had just recently been created bishop of Sasima. Gregorios the Elder and several other bishops were present at this ordination of Eulalius. Basilios was not present, and indeed does not seem to have been expected; for perhaps the opportunity did not allow it, since there was danger that by delaying, this ordination might be disrupted by the Arians. Hence Gregorios, speaking of Basilios in this oration, says: "We have not come to cast the sword, but peace; we have not come in contempt and ignominy of that great shepherd who presides over a splendid city. We know him to be honorable, we recognize him as head, we call him holy... We have endeavored to increase the priests and prelates, not to diminish them; to overthrow the heretics, not to undermine the orthodox." For the dissension between Basilios and Anthimos, concerning the division of Cappadocia into two provinces, had not yet been settled. For Basilios wished to be considered the head of the whole province—that is, of both Cappadocias. Gregorios does not unwillingly acknowledge this, and therefore excuses himself for not having awaited the presence of Basilios, or at least the confirmation of Eulalius’s ordination by him.

II. This thirteenth oration was delivered at Doara, a town of the Second Cappadocia, around the year 373. For the Doarean church had been tossed by a great storm of persecution and much agitated by internal strife. Wherefore the orator begins with thanksgiving, and congratulates the people on the calming of the waves and the wars. Then, having spoken a little about Basilios and the heretics and disturbers who had been cast out, he turns the oration to the new pastor, whom he both instructs with warnings and adorns with due praises. Furthermore, in this oration, Gregorios vehemently attacks a certain bishop, calling him "a son of Dathan and Abiron" (n. 3). Elias judges that the Theologian is speaking of Anthimos, the bishop of Tyana. But, as Billius rightly observes, "that cannot be sufficiently gathered from the words of this oration. Indeed, there are some things which seem to reject this interpretation. For these words: ‘Nor didst thou bestow anything great upon thy shepherd,’ accommodate themselves to one who endeavored to vex someone in vain, in order to gain favor from some other, but not to Anthimos, who, having shown himself a most relentless enemy to Basilios, I do not see how these words could suit him. It should have been said rather: ‘Nor didst thou do any great injury to thy shepherd,’ [than] ‘nor didst thou bestow anything great upon thy shepherd,’ [nor] didst thou receive any great favor from thy pastor." We might add that it cannot even be said in the earlier sense of Billius, "to thy pastor," whom Anthimos no longer acknowledged as "his own" from the time the Tyanean seat had been erected into a metropolis. ^D

ORATION XIII.

Delivered at the consecration of Eulalius, Bishop of the Doareni.

I. Brothers, receive our word, although it be very small and far removed from the dignity of the subject; yet the Lord God is accustomed to weigh mercy with just judgment. For He receives the planting of Paul as Paul’s, and the watering of Apollos [The rest of the column follows on the next page.]

widow, and the Publican’s dejection, and the confession of Manasses. Receive a newly-fashioned discourse for a newly-appointed shepherd; receive a voice offering thanksgiving for the wonders we behold. We are indeed small and the least among the sons of Israel, but nothing prevents even the small from giving thanks abundantly and copiously. Greater praise will surely be rendered to God by those who are greater; but we, according to our strength, will offer this today. Therefore, *sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things*. We were tossed by waves, we were besieged by war, we were thrust out; some calamities were already present, others were impending. But who calmed the storm into a breeze? Who broke the shield, and the sword, and the war? Who received us who were cast out and thrown away? Was it not Thou, O God, who wrought these things? *The Lord is strong and mighty, the Lord is mighty in battle.*

Ⅱ. He it is who divided the sea; He it is who fed the fugitive people in the desert, having granted a strange rain; He it is who made the rock gush forth like a spring; He it is who vanquished Amalek by the secret and mystical shape of his hands. For this is what the priest’s hands, lifted up on the mountain and formed into the shape of prayer, were able to achieve, which many tens of thousands of men could not. He it is who shook and cast down the walls and bulwarks of cities without war and without conflict; and, that I may mention the latest things, He it is who laid low that proud and arrogant Goliath, born of the giants, who dared to enter into battle against the great David. For this reason, then, let us say with one accord: *Blessed is the Lord, who has not given us as a prey to their teeth; and,* *Our soul has passed through the torrent; as a sparrow we are delivered from the snare of the hunters;* and all other things that a soul, filled with great joy at God’s munificence, utters. We have not come to cast the sword, but peace. We have not come in contempt and ignominy of the great shepherd who presides over this splendid city. We know him to be honorable, we recognize him as our head, we call him holy, even if we are affected by injury. Only let him show himself an indulgent and humane father to his children, and let him sedulously provide for the whole Church. We have striven to increase the number of priests and prelates, not to subtract from them; to overthrow heretics, not to diminish the orthodox.

Ⅲ. What say you, O son of Dathan and Abiron, and leader ^D

[...] military rebel, you who have dared to rise up against Moses, who have laid hands upon us just as they laid their tongues upon that great servant of God? Did you not tremble? Were you not suffused with shame? Did not your flesh collapse to the ground as you pondered these things in your mind? And do you thereafter stretch out these hands toward God? Do you thereafter offer gifts? Do you thereafter pray for the people? I fear, indeed, that the sword of God may long since have gathered rust and be at rest. You have gained no great favor from your shepherd, and you have inflicted the greatest loss upon yourself, rendering yourself a stranger to the grace of God.

^A IV. But now, O best and most excellent of shepherds, come here and receive your people with us, or rather before us, whom the Holy Spirit has entrusted to you, whom angels offer, and whose life and probity of character have pledged to your faith. But if you attain the inheritance of the throne through temptations and obstacles, there is no reason why this should seem strange to you. No great thing is devoid of probation and anxiety. For nature is so constituted that humble and abject things are obtained with little effort, whereas sublime and lofty things are acquired only with the greatest zeal and difficulty. You have heard Paul saying: "We must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of heaven." Do you also say: "We have passed through fire and water, and you brought us out into a place of refreshment." O sign of a miracle: "In the evening weeping will lodge, and in the morning gladness." Let those who wage war talk nonsense and act foolishly, and gape with wide-open mouths like dogs barking in vain; but let us not be troubled by war. Teach them to worship God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit, in three persons, in one glory and splendor. Seek that which is lost; strengthen that which is weak; preserve that which is firm. We demand from you as much praise and glory of name in spiritual matters as we have known you to have in earthly affairs. You shall receive a more perfect armor from the greater commanders, through which you will be able "to extinguish the fiery darts of the devil," and to present to the Lord a peculiar people, a holy nation, a royal priesthood, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

NOTICE ON ORATION XIV

I. Although in most manuscripts this oration bears the title: *De alendis pauperibus* (On the Feeding of the Poor); nevertheless we have preferred with Jerome, [index: entries preserved]

ORATIO XIV. — DE PAUPERUM AMORE.

Gabrielio, and many others, retain: *De pauperum amore*. For Gregory, if we attend to the beginning of this oration, seems to impose this very title upon the oration himself: "Receive," he says (n. 1), "this discourse on the love of the poor." But whichever opinion we hold, "it matters almost nothing," says Gabrielius. For each clearly shows the orator's purpose, which is to teach that the poor are to be embraced with benevolence and kindness... And the Theologian performed this with such doctrine and gravity, and with equal eloquence and power of speech, that anyone who is not moved and affected by it to a great degree may plainly be called hard, iron-hearted, and inhuman. Others who have discussed this oration feel the same, if you except Clericus (9). But that fastidious and malevolent censor, who desires "order and unity of subject matter" in this oration and who objects against the orator regarding his "digressions and excursions," should rather be scorned than seriously refuted. The oration itself, if read attentively, will refute so unfair a judgment on this matter.

II. Erudite men agree with almost one voice that this oration was delivered at Caesarea. But if you ask the year, those same men disagree among themselves; and this, we admit, can be grasped only by conjecture. For one can hardly find any note of time in this distinguished oration. Yet Gabrielius, having compared two places in Gregory (n. 10): "There is proposed before our eyes a grave and miserable spectacle, not credible except to those who know, men dead and yet living," etc., and elsewhere (10): "No longer is a sad and miserable spectacle proposed to our eyes, men dead before their death, etc.," seemed to himself to see, and he concludes that "it is sufficiently clear that [the Basiliad], that storehouse of piety, had not yet been built by Basil," when this clear and brilliant oration was delivered; and it may be conjectured with probability that the oration itself contributed no small amount of weight to the completion of so pious a work. But Nicetas and Basil the scholiast disagree with Gabrielius. The former indeed says (11): "The oration is held primarily for the sake of those who suffered from the sacred disease (leprosy) in the hospital of the Basiliad; which indeed Basil the Great had constructed, and there he cared for the gathered sick." The second, however, that is, Basil the scholiast, speaks thus (12): "They say that this present discourse on the love of the poor was delivered in the poorhouse, which was in the Basiliad, built at that time by the Great Basil opposite Caesarea."

III. In this discrepancy of opinions, having weighed the reasons and ^B moments on all sides, we judge the opinion of Nicetas and Basil to be more certain, inasmuch as it seems to rest on firmer arguments. And first, indeed, nothing certainly more clear and eloquent could be said by Nicetas and Basil, who without doubt are to be considered as relating what they had received by tradition. Furthermore, their opinion conforms more with historical monuments. For the knot of the difficulty consists primarily in this, to assign truly and precisely the time when "that edifice of piety" was constructed by Basil the Great. But it seems more probable to scholars that it was begun in the year 370, or at the latest 371. This is proved by the very fact that in the year 372 Heraclides was received into this house, and therefore that this house for the poor was in this very year suitable for receiving guests. It is certain, moreover, that our Gregory had no oration for the people of Caesarea until after he was ordained bishop; which event, as we have already seen (13), took place around the feast of Easter in the year 372. Whence it is not ill to conjecture that this oration was pronounced in the year 373.

IV. If, however, the opinion of Gabrielius were to prevail, this oration would certainly have to be placed before the year 371, and thus before Gregory's ordination; which, indeed, could in no way be the case from what has been said. And so, from the places of Gregory collated by Gabrielius, it might perhaps be conjectured that that hospital, which was already famous throughout the whole world, had begun at that time; but it was not yet so perfect that it could contain "all who laboured under the disease, the custodians, physicians, beasts of burden, conductors (14)," etc. Whence Gregory in this oration could well and truly say (15): "There is proposed to you before your eyes a grave and miserable spectacle," etc. And again, in the eulogy of Basil the Great, with all things finished and with those suffering from the sacred disease gathered from everywhere, it was permitted to even congratulate that "that miserable and sad spectacle" was now absent. We do not deny, however, that it seems truly strange that in this oration nothing is found about the building of that house for the poor, nor that it was built or finished. Gregory did not touch upon it with even a word. Whence it may probably be the case that Gabrielius, because of this silence of the Theologian on this matter, departed into the opposite opinion.

ORATION XIV. On the love of the poor.

I. Men, brothers, and fellow-poor—for we are all poor...

and in need of divine grace, even if one may seem to excel another when measured by small standards—receive this discourse on the love of the poor, not in a narrow and meager fashion, but amply and magnanimously, so that you may attain the riches of the kingdom. And pray together that I, too, may abundantly supply this to you, and feed your souls with the word, and break the spiritual bread for those who are hungry: whether like Moses of old, showering food from heaven and dispensing the bread of angels; or, like Jesus later, the true bread and author of true life, feeding many thousands of men in the desert to the point of satiety with a few loaves. ^A It is, indeed, not at all easy to find which of the virtues is supreme and to award it the honors and the victory—just as in a meadow full of many sweet flowers, one cannot easily find the most beautiful and fragrant flower, since now one, now another attracts the sense of smell and sight, and persuades one to pluck it first. As for me, then, I think this is how one must distinguish and consider these matters.

^B II. A beautiful thing is faith, hope, and charity, these three; and the witness of faith is Abraham, who was justified by faith; of hope, Enos, who first hoped to call upon the name of the Lord, and all the righteous who suffer hardships because of hope; of charity, the divine Apostle, who dared to speak even something against himself on behalf of Israel; and God himself, who is called charity. Beautiful is hospitality; and a witness among the righteous is Loth the Sodomite, though in his ways he was no Sodomite; and among sinners, Rahab the harlot, yet not a harlot in her intent, who because of her hospitality was praised and saved. Beautiful is brotherly love, and we have Jesus as a witness of this, who not only consented to be called our brother, but even endured suffering for our sake. Beautiful is benevolence toward men; ^C and the same Jesus is witness, who not only created man for good works and joined the image to the flesh, as a guide to all things excellent and a mediator of heavenly goods, but also became man for our sake. Beautiful is long-suffering, just as he himself testifies, ^D who not only refused the legions of angels against those who rose up and played the tyrant, nor only rebuked Peter when he drew his sword, but even restored the ear to him who had been struck. The same was done later by Stephen, the disciple of Christ,

^A when he poured out prayers for those by whom he was being stoned. A beautiful thing is meekness; for this Moses and David are witnesses, to whom before others this praise was attributed by the testimony of Scripture; ^B and their Master, who did not contend, nor cry out, nor let his voice be heard in the streets, nor struggle against those who were leading him.

III. A beautiful thing is zeal, and Phinehas bears witness to it, having pierced the Midianite together with the Israelite, that he might take away the reproach from the children of Israel, and having been named from his purpose: and after him, those who say, "With zeal I have been zealous for the Lord God Almighty;" and, "I am jealous for you with a godly zeal;" and, "The zeal of thy house hath eaten me up;" and not only saying this, but also suffering it. A beautiful thing is the buffeting of the body; and let Paul persuade you, who still disciplined and kept under his own body, and through Israel brought fear upon those who trusted in themselves and gave indulgence to the body; and Jesus himself, fasting, and being tempted, and overcoming the tempter. A beautiful thing is prayer and watching; and let God persuade you, keeping watch before the passion, and given to prayer. A beautiful thing is purity and virginity; and let Paul persuade you, enacting laws about these things, and most equitably deciding the controversy between marriage and celibacy, ^C and Jesus himself, being born of a Virgin, that he might both honor generation and prefer virginity. A beautiful thing is temperance; and let David persuade you, when the water of the well in Bethlehem was brought to him, who did not drink, but only poured out the water as a libation, nor could he be induced to satisfy his own thirst with another’s blood.

IV. A beautiful thing is solitude and quiet; and this Elijah’s Carmel teaches me, or the desert of John, and that mountain into which it is evident that Jesus often withdrew, and was with himself in silence. A beautiful thing is the simplicity of life; and this Elijah teaches me, who was sustained by a widow, John, who was covered with camel’s hair, and Peter, who was nourished on pulse bought for a single as. A beautiful thing is humility, and many examples thereof exist on every side, ^D and before all others, the Savior and Lord of all, who not only humbled himself even to the form of a servant, nor merely exposed his face to the shame of spitting, and was reckoned with the wicked, he who...

cleanses the world from the stains of sin, but who also washed the feet of his disciples in the guise of a servant.

Poverty and the contempt of riches is a beautiful thing; Zacchaeus is a witness to this, and Christ himself: the former, at the entry of Christ, offering nearly everything he had as a gift; the latter, by proposing this to the rich man as the definition of the perfect life.

And, to speak more briefly of these matters: contemplation is a beautiful thing, and action is a beautiful thing; the former rising from here and journeying toward the Holy of Holies, and bringing our mind back ^B to that which is akin to it; the latter receiving Christ, ministering to Him, and demonstrating the force of love through deeds.

V. Each of these is a certain path of salvation, and leadings us in every way to some one of those blessed and eternal mansions: since, just as there are various choices of life, so there are many mansions with God, which are divided and distributed to each according to his merit and dignity. And therefore, let one person cultivate this virtue, another that, another more, another, if it is possible, all: let him only do this, that he walk, and strive to progress further, and persist in the footsteps of Him who rightly points out the way, guides our steps, and leads [us] through the narrow way and gate to the breadth of the blessedness that is there.

If, however, by the judgment and authority of Paul and of Christ himself, charity is to be considered the first and greatest of the commandments, as the sum of the law and the prophets, I find the chief part of this to consist in embracing the poor with love and benevolence, and being moved by the calamities of those who are joined to us by kindred. For no worship is altogether as pleasing to God as mercy (since there is nothing else that more befits God, as one whom mercy and truth go before, and to whom mercy must be offered before judgment): nor is goodness repaid by Him with anything more than goodness, who measures out justly, and puts mercy into the balance and measure.

VI. Furthermore, since ^C we are commanded by that precept which tells us both to rejoice with those who rejoice, and to weep with those who weep, we must open our feelings to all the poor, for whatever reason they may be pressed by hardships and inconveniences; and since we ourselves are human, we must first confer the largess of kindness upon humans, whether they have need of it for widowhood, or for the loss of parents, or because of exile, or because of the cruelty of masters, ^D or because of the arrogance of those in power, or because of the...

inhumanity of tax collectors, or the bloodthirsty violence of robbers, or the insatiability of thieves, or confiscation of goods, or shipwreck; for all are alike miserable, ^A and in this way they look to our hands, just as we look to the hands of God when we are in need of anything; and among these same people, those who suffer unworthily are more miserable than those who are accustomed to misfortune. But they should move us with a special affection of pity, those who are corrupted by the "sacred disease," and who are consumed and eaten away even to the flesh, and bones, and marrow (as Scripture threatens against some), and who are betrayed by this wretched, base, and faithless body—to which I know not how I am joined, nor how I am both an image of God and wallowing in the mire. When it is in good health, it makes war against me, ^B and when it is oppressed by war, it afflicts me; I love it as a fellow-servant, yet I turn from it as an enemy; I flee from it as a bond, and I revere it as a co-heir. If I strive to weaken and subdue it, I no longer have a partner and helper with whom to perform the noblest deeds, surely not unaware of the reason for which I was created, and that I must ascend to God through my actions.

VII. But if, on the other hand, I try to act more gently with this companion and helper, no way remains for me to escape its rebellion, or to avoid falling away from God, weighed down by fetters that pull me down or hold me to the earth. It is a gentle and calm foe, an insidious friend. O the wonder of this union and alienation! What I fear, I embrace; what I love, I dread. Before I have fought a war, I am reconciled; and before I enjoy peace, I am at variance. ^C What is this wisdom concerning me? And what is this great mystery? Or does God will us to be a portion of Himself, and to have flowed down from above, so that we may not, through being puffed up and exalted by our worth, despise our Creator—and (that we might) look always toward Him in the struggle and battle against the body, and that the weakness conjoined to us might serve as a teacher of our dignity—so that we might know that we are simultaneously the greatest and the most base, earthly and heavenly, transient and immortal, heirs of light and fire, or indeed of darkness, depending on ^D which way we incline? Such is our composition, and for these reasons, as it appears to me at least, so that whenever we are exalted by the image, we may be brought low by the dust. Let him who wishes philosophize on these things; we shall philosophize on them more opportunely.

VIII. ^A Now, however, concerning what my speech has been eager to say, feeling pain for my own flesh and my own infirmity in the sufferings of others, we must take care, brothers, of our kinsman and fellow-servant body; for even if I have accused it as an enemy because of the suffering it brings, yet I embrace it as a friend because of the Author of this connection. And we must take care no less of the bodies of others than of one’s own body, whether one be in good health or consumed by the same disease. For we are all one in the Lord, whether rich or poor, slave or free, healthy or infirm in body; and there is one head of all, from whom are all things, Christ; and what the limbs are to one another, that is what each is to each, and all are to all. Therefore, we must not overlook or neglect those who have fallen first into the common infirmity; nor should we rejoice more that we enjoy good health than we mourn that ^B our brothers are miserable and afflicted. But rather, we ought to consider the salvation of our own flesh and souls to be bound up in this: that we pursue humanity and mercy toward them. And let us consider it this way.

IX. For others, there is only one pitiable thing: poverty, which perhaps time, or labor, or a friend, or a kinsman, or a change of circumstances might resolve. But for these it is no less heavy, nay, even heavier, because along with their flesh, the ability to undertake labor and the power to provide for themselves the necessities of life have been taken away, and the fear of the disease always prevails with them more than the hope of health; ^C so that the hope which is the sole remedy for the afflicted and calamitous brings them very little help. To poverty is added disease, a second evil, and indeed the most atrocious and most to be shunned by all desires, and of such a kind that among many, when they wish to curse someone with some evil, there is nothing more readily uttered. A third is that most people cannot bear to approach them or even look at them, but flee, shudder, and turn away; and this is more bitter to them than the disease itself, when they perceive that they are also hated and detested on account of their calamity. For my part, I cannot bear their misery without tears, and I am disturbed by the very memory of it. And I wish that the same may happen to you, so that with tears you may flee from tears. Nor do I doubt that among those who are present,

^A you yourselves are witnesses of this calamity.

X. A grave and piteous spectacle is set before our eyes, one which, were it not for those who know it to be true, would be incredible: men who are dead while yet alive, who have been mutilated in most parts of their bodies, and are so affected that they can scarcely be recognized as to who or whence they were, or rather, they are the wretched remains of men who once were. They recount their fathers, and mothers, and brothers, and the places by which they can be distinguished, saying, "I was born of such a father, and of such a mother, and this is my name, and you were once my friend and acquaintance." And they do this because they can no longer be recognized by their old features. They are men cut off and stripped of their wealth, their kindred, their friends, and their bodies themselves; men who alone of all mortals both pity and hate themselves in equal measure, having no certainty as to which part of their body they should rather lament: those which no longer remain, or those which do remain; ^B those which the disease has consumed, or those which are left to the disease. For the former have perished wretchedly, while the latter are kept in a state more wretched still. The former have gone to the tomb early; the latter have no one to consign them to the grave. For even the most kindly and philanthropic man shows himself most hard-hearted and inhuman toward these; and here only do we forget that we are flesh, and that we carry about a body of humiliation. And we are so far from providing for those who are joined with us by the bond of kinship, that we consider the safety of our own bodies to lie in our flight from them and our aversion to them. And yet, though one might approach an old corpse, perhaps even one that is putrefying, and might bring in the stinking bodies of brute animals, and endure even to be covered with filth, we flee from these men with all our speed (oh, the inhumanity!), and are indignant, as it were, that we draw the same air as they do.

XI. On the sympathy of parents for children

XI. What is more genuine than a father? What is more compassionate than a mother? Yet to these, nature itself is closed off. A father sees his own child—the one he begot, the one he reared, the one he considered to be the sole light of his life, for whom he poured out many prayers to God many times—and while he weeps for him, he drives him away, partly willingly and partly by compulsion. And a mother recalls the pains of child-bearing, her heart is torn, and she calls to him in a most piteous voice, and, bringing him forth, she laments the living man as if he were dead, saying: ^C "My child, unfortunate and of an unhappy mother, whom the disease has bitterly shared with me; my piteous child, my child now unrecognizable, my child whom I reared in precipices, and mountains, and wildernesses."

^A With the wild beasts, therefore, shall you dwell; a rock shall be your shelter, and those of mortals who excel in piety shall alone look upon you. And she invokes those piteous words of Job: "Why were you fashioned in the mother's womb, and why did you come forth from the belly, and not perish immediately, so that death might coincide with birth? Why did you not depart prematurely, before tasting the evils of this life? Why did knees meet you? Why did the suckling of breasts befall you, when you were about to live wretchedly, and a life more grievous than death?" She says these things, and pours out fountains of tears; and the unhappy woman desires, indeed, to embrace and kiss him, yet she fears the flesh of her child as if it were an enemy. And public outcries and persecutions are raised by the whole populace, not against the unjust and the wicked, but against the wretched and the calamitous. And there is no one who does not take in a man bound by the charge of murder as a housemate, and one who takes a criminal not only into his house but admits him to his table, and treats a sacrilegious man as a companion in life, and strikes up a treaty of friendship with those by whom he has been harmed in some evil way; but against this man, from whom he has received no injury, he recoils from his disease as if it were a crime. Thus, the condition of vice is better than that of disease; and we embrace inhumanity as something worthy of a free man, but we reject humanity and compassion as base and dishonest.

XII.

^A unkind, is he who acts with kindness, not the one who has provided what they needed, but the one who has not turned them away bitterly. Many of them are not even deterred by shame from public assemblies, but rather, on account of their necessity, they force their way into them—these public and sacred assemblies, I say, which we have devised for the healing of souls, either gathering for the celebration of some mystery, or observing a festival for the martyrs of the truth, that, just as we honor the struggles of those people, we may also imitate their piety. And although, being human, they blush before the faces of men because of their misfortune, and would wish to be covered by mountains, or steep places, or woods, or, finally, by night and darkness, yet they burst into the midst—a miserable burden, and worthy of tears. This, perhaps, occurs also by design, so that they may be to us reminders of our own weakness, and may persuade us to set our hearts on none of the things present and visible as if they were firm and stable. ^B They burst in—some to hear the longed-for voice of men, others to look upon their faces, others to collect small aids for life from those who abound in luxury and delights—but all of them, so that by exposing their own laments, they may experience some relief from them.

XIII

^A XIV. And they indeed—those brothers of ours in God, even if you wish it not—suffer these things, and things much more miserable than those which we have mentioned; those who have obtained the same nature as we, and who are fashioned from the same clay from which we were originally created; who are knit together with nerves and bones just as we are, and are clothed in skin and flesh in the same way as all others, as the divine Job somewhere says while philosophizing upon his sufferings and spitting upon our outward appearance; nay rather, if one must say something greater, they have also obtained the image of God just as we have, and they preserve it perhaps better than we, even if their bodies have been ravaged and corrupted; they who have put on the same Christ according to the inner man, and have been entrusted with the same pledge of the Spirit as we; they who share with us in the same laws, oracles, testaments, assemblies, mysteries, and hopes; for whom Christ in the same way died—He who takes away the sin of the whole world—they who are co-heirs of the life above, even ^B if they have fallen far short of the happiness here; they who are buried with Christ and rise again with Him, if indeed they suffer with Him, so that they may also be glorified with Him.

XV. But what of us, to whom that great and new title has fallen, to be called after Christ, the holy nation, the royal priesthood, the chosen and peculiar people, the zealous follower of good and saving works? We, who are the disciples of Christ, the meek and philanthropic One, who bore our infirmities, and who lowered Himself even as far as our own dough, who for our sake accepted the poverty of this flesh and this earthen tabernacle, and who dwelt in sorrows and languor for our sake, that we might become rich in divinity; what then of us, who have received such an example of mercy and compassion, what shall we think about these people, and what shall we do? Shall we despise them? Shall we pass them by? Shall we abandon them as though they were corpses, as though they were detestable, as though they were the most wicked of serpents and wild beasts? By no means, brothers. This is alien to us, who are the sheep of Christ, of that good Shepherd who brings back the wandering, seeks the lost, and strengthens the weak; it is also alien to human nature itself, which has ratified compassion as a broad law, inasmuch as it is schooled in piety and humanity through the same infirmity.

XVI. But what then? Will they be vexed under the open sky,

^A in rough and tattered rags—or rather, will they perhaps not even have these? And we shall coddle ourselves in soft and flowing garments, and in airy fabrics of flax and silk, ^B and in the latter we shall display ourselves in a way that is less proper than it is vainglorious and fastidious (for this is what I call everything that is superfluous and curious), while we store away the former—a useless and vain concern, ^C a consumption of moths and of time, that which consumes all things. And they, for their part, will not even have enough for their necessary food (oh, my luxury, and their misery!), but will lie before our doors, languishing and starving, not even having the means for petition from their own bodies, deprived of voices with which to lament, of hands to stretch out in supplication, of feet to approach the wealthy, of breath to produce their cries with strength, judging the heaviest of evils to be the lightest, and finding favor in their eyes only in that they do not see their own corruption.

XVII. And they, in such a state: ^D but we shall recline, brilliant and brilliantly, upon high and lofty couches, and upon bedding so rare that it is almost forbidden even to touch it, and we shall be vexed if we even hear the sound of their petitions. It is necessary for us that the floor should be fragrant with flowers, often even out of season, and that the table should be sprinkled with perfumes—the most sweet-smelling and most precious perfumes—so that we may be the more effeminated; and that boys should stand by, some in order and in succession, with their hair loose and womanish, and groomed with a cutting of the hair about the face, more than is...

^A becoming for the eyes; and others holding the cups between their fingertips, as elegantly and safely as possible; others skillfully creating a breeze over their heads with fans, and cooling the bulk of their flesh with breath from their hands; and on top of this, that the table should overflow with meats, while all the elements provide for us in abundance—air, earth, water—and that we should be physically constrained by the artifices of cooks and confectioners. Everyone competes to see who can best flatter the greedy and ungrateful belly—that heavy burden and author of evils, that utterly insatiable and treacherous beast, which itself will soon perish along with the foods that perish. And some think they are well-treated if they can fill themselves even with water: but we shall drain our wine cups to the point of drunkenness, nay, even beyond drunkenness, at least those who suffer from greater intemperance. We shall reject some wines, and approve others as fragrant; we shall even philosophize about them, and consider it a loss if, in addition to our local wine, some exotic vintage, highly celebrated, does not also appear like a tyrant. For we must be—or at least appear to be—delicate and more luxurious than necessity requires, as if we feared being thought anything but depraved, and slaves to the belly and the things under it.

XVIII. What is this, my friends and brothers? Why are we too held by a disease of the soul, a disease far graver than that by which our bodies are weighed down? For the latter occurs ^C against our will, but the former springs from our will. The one ends with this life; the other departs with us when we migrate from here. The one is worthy of pity, the other of hatred—at least among those who are of sound mind. Why do we not assist our nature while we have the time? Why, being flesh, do we not cover the lowliness of the flesh? Why do we indulge in luxuries amidst the calamities of our brothers? Far be it from me to ever abound in wealth while they labor in want of such things; or to enjoy good health, unless I bring aid to their wounds; or to have bread and clothing sufficiently, and to rest under a roof, unless I also offer bread to them according to my means, and share my clothing, and receive them under my roof. Truly, either everything must be laid aside for Christ, that we may sincerely follow Him, taking up the cross, and fly up as light and unencumbered ones ^D to the world above, not dragged downward by anything, and gain Christ in place of all things, being exalted through humility and enriched through poverty; or our possessions must be shared with Christ, so that in some way even our having may be sanctified, and we may communicate with those who do not have—namely, through the reasoning of honest possession and duty.

But if I should sow for myself alone, I would sow in order that others might also eat; and, to use the words of Job again: ^A *Let thistles grow for me instead of wheat, and thorns instead of barley*; and let the scorching wind seize, and let the storm carry off my labors, so that I might have toiled in vain. But if I should build storehouses, piling up treasures from mammon, and by mammon, I do not refuse that this very night my soul might be required of me, to render an account of those things which I have wickedly gathered.

XIX. Shall we not at long last come to our senses? Shall we not cast off our numbness and indolence, not to say stinginess? Shall we not consider human affairs with our minds? Shall we not take counsel for our own affairs in the misfortunes of others? ^B For by nature there is nothing in human affairs that is stable, nor even, nor self-sufficient, nor remaining in the same state; but a certain cycle runs around our affairs, bringing changes at one time different from another, often in the same day, and sometimes even in the same hour; so that one might sooner trust in the unstable winds, or the tracks of a ship sailing through the sea, or the deceptive dreams of night, the grace of which is brief, or all that children trace upon the sand while playing, than in human prosperity. But those are to be judged wiser who, since they do not trust in present things, heap up treasures for themselves for the future; ^C and because of the instability and unevenness of human prosperity, they embrace a kindness that will never collapse, so that they may by all means gain one of these three things: either that they may never act wickedly—since God often honors pious men with the goods of this life, provoking kindness with kindness—or that they may have boldness before God in themselves, as having suffered not because of wickedness, but on account of some dispensation; or, finally, that they may, as if it were a debt, demand the philanthropy from those who are doing well, which they themselves previously offered to those in need, acting rightly.

XX. ^D *Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom*, he says, *nor the rich man in his wealth, nor the mighty man in his strength*, even if they have come to the pinnacle, one of wisdom, another of wealth, another of power. But I shall add also what follows these: And let not the one who is distinguished glory in his glory, nor the one who is robust in his health, nor the beautiful in their bloom, nor the young in their youth, nor in anything else at all of those things that are praised among men, if one must say it in a word, being puffed up by this. But let him glory in this—

^A that he acknowledges and seeks God, and laments the plight of the wretched, and stores up for himself some good for the life to come. For all other things are fleeting and fragile, and, like in a game of pebbles, they are thrown and transferred from one to another; nor is there anything so much the property of its possessor that it does not either come to an end in the course of time or, through envy, be transferred to others; but these things are certain and fixed, nor do they ever recede or slip away, nor do they disappoint the hopes of those who have placed their trust in them. And to me this seems to be the reason why no good of this life is certain and lasting for men, and that this, like anything else, has been rightly fashioned by the artificer Word and by that Wisdom which surpasses every mind, so that we might be mocked in those things which fall under our gaze—which change and are changed in various ways, and are carried up and down and turned about, and depart and flee before they can be grasped by our hands—so that, having perceived their instability and variety, we might hasten toward the harbor of the life to come. For what would we have done if prosperity were firm for us, when, even though it is fleeting and fragile, we are nonetheless so bound to it as if by certain chains, and are so reduced to this servitude by its pleasure and imposture, that we are unable to think of anything better or more excellent than present things, even though we hear and are persuaded that we were created according to the image of God, which is both above and draws us to itself? ^B

XXI. Who is wise, and will understand these things? ^C Who will pass by those things which pass away? Who will press hard upon those things which are stable? Who will think of present things as passing away? Who will think of those things which are placed in hope as certain and constant? Who will distinguish those things which truly are from those which appear to be, and follow the former while despising and regarding the latter as nothing? Who will distinguish a painting from the truth? Who will distinguish the earthly tabernacle from the heavenly city; who our pilgrimage from our habitation; who darkness from light; who the mud of the deep from the holy land; who flesh from spirit? Who will distinguish God from the prince of this world; who the shadow of death from life eternal? Who will purchase the future with present things; who will purchase constant and perennial riches with fleeting ones; who will purchase things which are remote from the sense of the eyes with those which are subjected to our sight? Blessed indeed is he who, distinguishing and dividing these things by the sword of the Word, which cuts the better from the worse, ^D arranges ascensions in his heart, as the divine David speaks in a certain place, and fleeing this valley of tears with all his might, seeks the things which are above, and being crucified to the world together with Christ, is established in Christ, and rises together with Christ, an heir of the life that no longer changes nor deceives; whence no longer bitten—

^A in the way by the serpent, nor keeping watch for his heel, while he himself is kept watch for, as to his head.

And to the rest of us, the same David speaks well, like some most loud-voiced herald from a high and public proclamation, calling us "slow of heart" and "lovers of falsehood," and warning us not to be excessively attached to the things that are seen, nor to imagine that all the happiness of this life is nothing other than an abundance of grain and wine which perish. And perhaps the blessed Micah ^B, perceiving this as well, and rising up against the goods that crawl on the ground and seem to be goods, says: "Draw near to the eternal mountains; arise and walk, for this is not your resting place." This is, in fact, already in close agreement with the very words by which our Lord and Savior commands us, saying: "Arise, let us go hence"; not transferring only the disciples of that time from that single place, as some might think, but always drawing all his own disciples from the earth ^C and the things concerning the earth, to the heavens and the things of heaven.

XXII. Therefore, let us now follow the Word, let us seek the rest that is from above, let us cast away the abundance from here; let us gain only what is good in these things, namely let us acquire our own souls in almsgiving, let us distribute our goods to the poor, so that we may be enriched with the things from above. Give a portion also to the soul, not to the flesh alone; give a portion also to God, not to the world alone; subtract something from the belly, and consecrate it to the spirit; snatch something from the fire, and store it far away from the flame that devours below; snatch it from the tyrant, and entrust it to the Master. Give a portion to the seven, that is, to this life, and also to the eight, to that which awaits us after this; give a little to Him from whom ^D you have the more; give also the all to Him who gave all. You will never overcome the great generosity of God, even if you give away all that you have, and even if you add yourself to your goods. For that too is to receive, namely, to be given to God. For as much as you may contribute, more will always remain for you; and you will give nothing of your own, because all things are from God. And just as it is impossible to outrun one's own shadow, which withdraws as much as we proceed forward and always stays as far ahead; nor can the magnitude of the body...

^A be exalted above the head, inasmuch as it always stands out above the body: in the same way, neither can God be surpassed by our gifts. For we do not give anything that is outside of his own, nor do we offer anything that exceeds his own generosity.

XXIII. Recognize whence you have your being, your breathing, your power of thought, and that which is the greatest of all, the knowledge of God, the hope of the kingdom of heaven, the equality of honor with the angels, the contemplation of glory—now indeed in mirrors and enigmas, but then more fully and more purely; that you have become a son of God, a co-heir with Christ, and, if I may speak boldly, even a god yourself. Whence have you all these things, and from whom? Or, to speak of lesser things and those subject to the eyes, by whose gift and benefit do you behold the beauty of the sky, the course of the sun, the circle of the moon, the multitude of the stars, and the harmony and order that shines forth in all these things as in a lyre, always remaining the same; the successions of the parts of the year, the changes of the seasons, the cycles of the years, the equal portions of day and night, the produce of the earth, the diffusion of the air, the immense breadth ^B of the sea, both yielding and stable, the depth of the rivers, and the flow of the winds? Who has given you rains, agriculture, food, arts, dwellings, laws, states, a mild life, and familiarity and friendship with those with whom you share a kinship? Whence have you the fact that some animals are tamed and subject to you, while others have been given for food? Who appointed you lord and king of all things that are upon the earth? Who, not to mention them one by one, has bestowed all those things in which man excels the other animals? Is it not God, who now asks of you ^C humanity in return for all things and on behalf of all things? And are we then not ashamed, when we have received so many and such great things from him, and hope for others, if we do not contribute to him, in return, even this one thing, namely, humanity? Or, since he has separated us from the wild beasts, and alone among all things that are on the earth has adorned us with reason, shall we ourselves, on the contrary, become bestial, and shall we be so corrupted by pleasures and delights, or be seized by madness, or—I do not know how to express it—shall we imagine that, along with the bread and bran ^D which perhaps we have gathered in an evil manner, we are also by nature superior to them? And just as there was in the olden days, as the poets invent myths, some race of giants and the rest of men; so shall we, too, be exalted and beyond mankind in relation to them, like that Nimrod, or the race of Anak, who once oppressed Israel, or those through whom the flood cleansed the earth? And although he is not ashamed to be called our Father, being God and Lord, shall we, for our part, deny our own kin?

XXIV. Concerning Not Improperly Managing the Goods Given to Us

Let us by no means, my friends and brothers, become bad stewards of the things granted to us by divine favor, lest we hear Peter saying: "Be ashamed, you who hold onto the property of others; imitate the equality of God, and there will be no poor person." Let us not work to hoard and store up wealth while others suffer from poverty, lest he also pursue us with harsh and threatening language—hence the divine Amos speaks in these terms: "Agile now, you who say: When will the month pass, that we may sell goods? And the Sabbath, that we may open our storehouses?" and what follows, by which he threatens the wrath of God against those who use large and small scales. Hence, again, the blessed Micah perhaps also curtails such luxury itself—as if satiety were to beget insolence—and [censures] the fact that they behaved wantonly on ivory beds and anointed themselves with the most fragrant oils, and were fattened on tender calves from the herds and kids from the flocks, and applauded at the sound of the musical instruments, and more than this, considered any of these things to be firm and stable. Perhaps, however, he does not consider these things as grave as the fact that, while they were addicted to luxury, they felt nothing for the destruction of Joseph; for he adds this to the charge of satiety. May this not happen to us now, and may we not be so addicted to luxuries that we hold in contempt the kindness of God, who bears these things indignantly, even if he does not launch his wrath against sinners immediately or at the same time as their sin.

XXV. Commending the Sharing of Gifts of Nature

Let us imitate the highest and first law of God, which makes it rain upon the just and the sinners, and makes the sun rise for all alike; who stretched out the earth for all land animals, and springs, and rivers, and forests; who gave air to the nature of birds, and water to those whose life is in the water, and who has most abundantly bestowed the primary necessities of life upon all—things not held by authority, not circumscribed by law, not divided by boundaries—but has set them forth as common, the same for all, and ample and abundant, and in no way lacking for that reason, both to honor the equal dignity of nature with an equality of the gift, and to show the wealth of his own goodness. But men, if they have hidden away gold and silver and the softest and most superfluous clothing, and transparent stones, and whatever else of that kind, which are the proofs of war, and dissension, and the first tyranny, then they [lift them...]

^A they lift up their eyebrows in madness, and close their mercy to their unfortunate kin, not even willing to help them with superfluous things for the necessary uses of life—(oh, the lack of instruction! oh, the perversity!)—not even, if nothing else, reflecting on this: that poverty and wealth, and what we call liberty and slavery, and other names of this kind, entered into the human race later on, just as if they were common diseases that accompanied vice, and were its inventions. But, he says, from the beginning it was not so; but He who created man from the beginning left him free and self-governing, restrained only by the law of the commandment, and wealthy in the delights of paradise; and He wished for and bestowed this same [state] upon the rest of the human race through that one first seed. Freedom and wealth, therefore, consisted only in the keeping of the commandment, while true poverty and slavery was its transgression.

XXVI. From the time, however, ^B that envy and contention, and the crafty tyranny of the serpent, always stealthily enticing us by the allurements of pleasure and stirring up the more audacious against the weaker, crept into life, from that time the kindred race was split into the diversities of names, and avarice tore apart the nobility of nature, taking as its ally even the law, the helper of power and dominion. But look you to the first equality, not the last division; set before yourself the law of the Creator, not that of the powerful. Succor nature according to your strength, honor the ancient freedom, respect yourself, cover the disgrace of your race, help the diseased, bring comfort to the indigent; do you, who are of firm body and overflowing ^C with riches, [help] the sick and the needy; you, who have not stumbled, [help] the one who has fallen and is crushed; you, who are of joyful and cheerful spirit, [help] the grieving and the afflicted; you, who use prosperous circumstances, [help] the one laboring in adversity. Offer something to God in giving of thanks, because you are of the number of those who can do good to others, not of those who have need of the beneficence of others; that you may not have your eyes cast toward the hands of others, but [that] others [may have theirs cast] toward yours. Endeavor to be wealthy not only in riches, but also in piety; not only in gold, but also in virtue; nay, rather, in virtue alone. Be more estimable than your neighbor by appearing kinder; become a god to the unfortunate by imitating the mercy of God.

XXVII. For man has nothing so ^D divine as doing good.

^A If one bestows greater benefits and another fewer, each, I think, does so according to his own power. He who created [man] continues to gather him up when he is undone; do you, then, not despise him when he has fallen. He had mercy upon him in the greatest of things, having given to all, moreover, the Law, the prophets, and before these, the natural, unwritten law—an examiner of those things that are done—rebuking, admonishing, and disciplining. Finally, [He] handed Himself over as a ransom for the life of the world, bestowing apostles, evangelists, teachers, shepherds, healings, wonders, a return to life, the undoing of death, a trophy against him who had conquered, the covenant in shadow, the covenant in truth, the distributions of the Holy Spirit, the mystery of the new salvation.

But as for you, if you are indeed able [to provide] the greater things, and those by which the soul is benefited—for God has made you rich in these things also, if you would only will it—do not refrain from doing good to the needy with these either. Rather, first and foremost, give these to him who asks of you, and even before he asks, pitying him all the day long and lending him the word, and painstakingly demanding the loan back with the interest of the increase of the one who is benefited, which he always adds to the word, gradually increasing within himself the seeds of piety. But if not, then at least [give] the secondary and smaller things, and whatever comes within your power: succor him, offer food, offer a worn-out garment, bring medicine, bind up his wounds, inquire of him concerning his misfortune, philosophize ^B about endurance, take heart, draw near. You will not become any worse than you are by this, nor will you catch the disease, even if those who are excessively fastidious think so, deceived by empty arguments. Or rather, they use this as a pretext for their own timidity—whether you call it delicate refinement or impiety—fleeing to it as if to something great and wise.

Let the arguments of these things persuade you, and the children of physicians, and their companions who treat them, of whom not one has ever yet fallen into danger by approaching such people for that reason. You, therefore, even if the matter is fearful and worthy of suspicion, O servant of Christ, lover of God, and lover of man, do not suffer anything ignoble. Take heart in faith; let mercy conquer timidity, and the fear of God conquer your softness; let piety stand before your flesh-loving reasonings. Do not despise, do not pass by your brother, do not turn away from him as if he were an abomination, as if he were a pollution, as if he were one of those things to be avoided and forbidden. He is your member, and if he is suffering through ^C his misfortune

^A you pass him by 38 with great magnanimity—though perhaps I shall touch your conscience with these words. A theme of philanthropy is set before you, even if the outsider 39 keeps you far from receiving a blessing.

XXVIII. Whoever is sailing is near to shipwreck, and all the more so the more boldly he sails. And whoever carries a body is near to the ills of the body, and all the more so 40 the more upright he walks without looking at those lying before him. While you are sailing 41 with a fair wind, stretch out a hand to him who is shipwrecked; while you are healthy 42 and wealthy, bring aid to him who is suffering. Do not wait to learn by your own experience how great an evil inhumanity is, and what a great good it is to open your bowels of compassion to those in need. Do not wish to raise your hand to God 43 against those who are hard-hearted ^B and pass by the poor 44. Learn these things from the calamities of others; give something, even if it is small 45, to him who is in need. For it is not small to him who lacks everything, nor even to God 46, if it is given according to your ability. Instead of a large gift, give your willingness; if you have nothing 47, weep 48. It is a great remedy 49 for the unfortunate, when mercy is brought from the soul; and to sympathize sincerely lightens the calamity by a great deal. Man is not cheaper in your eyes than a beast, O 50 man, whom the law commands you to lift up and lead back if he has fallen into a pit or wandered astray. If there is some other more hidden and profound meaning, such as are many 51 of the legal depths and double senses, it is not for me to know this, but for the Spirit who searches ^C and knows all things. But what I for my part 52 grasp, and as far as my speech reaches, is that he is training us from the philanthropy shown in small things toward a more perfect 53 and greater philanthropy. For how much is owed to those of the same race and same honor, if what is demanded reaches even to those devoid of reason?

XXIX. These things, then, are what reason, and the law, and the most moderate of men suggest—those for whom to do good is considered more honorable than to receive it, and mercy is more eagerly sought than gain. But what would you say about our own wise men? I say nothing of those from outside, who find for their own vices patron gods, and ^D who find gods to whom they attribute gain 54, and 55

what is more wicked still, who believe that it is a mark of piety among certain nations to kill men to accommodate their demons; and they themselves delight in such sacrifices, and think that their gods delight in them, proving themselves indeed the wicked priests and mystagogues of wicked beings. But there are some among our own—a thing truly worthy of tears—who are so far from feeling the pain of the suffering and offering them aid, that they even revile them bitterly and ^B trample upon them, philosophizing in an empty and useless way. They truly "utter a voice from the earth," and speak into the air, and not into ears that are wise and accustomed to divine dogmas; and they proceed to such a pitch of audacity as to say: "To them, affliction is from God; to us, prosperity is from God; and who am I to undo the decree of God, and appear more kind than God?" Let them be sick, let them be wretched, let them suffer misfortune—so it has seemed good to Him. And they only show themselves to be "lovers of God" in this place, where it is necessary to guard their coins and to insult the miserable. That these men do not in the least believe that their prosperity is from God is clearly shown by their own words. For who, knowing God as the provider of whatever he possesses, would ever think in such a way about those in need? For it belongs to one and the same person both to have something from God and to use what he has in a godly manner and according to God. ^C

XXX. Whether it is also from God that they are vexed is not yet clear, as long as this earthly mass carries within itself, like a turbulent current, its own disorder. And who knows whether one is punished for his vice, while another is exalted as if he were praiseworthy? Or rather the opposite: that one is elevated because of his wickedness, while the other is tested because of his virtue? That the one is raised higher so that he may fall more heavily, being allowed until then, like some disease, to let his own wickedness break forth, so that he may be punished more justly; while the other is oppressed against expectation, so that, having been tested like gold in a furnace, he may melt away whatever small amount of vice he might have within him. For no one, at least in a nature born of generation, is completely pure from filth, as we have heard, even if he should appear more approved. ^D For I discover some such mystery as this in the holy Scripture; and it would be a long task to recount all the voices of the Spirit which tend toward this. But who could measure the sand of the seas, and the drops of rain, and the depth of the abyss? Who could fathom the depth of the wisdom of God regarding all things, by which

He created all things, and how He Himself wills and knows how to moderate them? For it is sufficient for us, following the Apostle’s example, ^A to merely pass by, in wonder at the difficulty of inferring and contemplating this: "O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out!" And, "Who has known the mind of the Lord?" And, that I may speak with Job, "Who has attained to the height of His wisdom? Who is wise, and will understand these things, and not measure that which is above measure by that which cannot be measured?"

^B XXXI. Some other person, therefore, might be rash and bold in these matters, or rather, let no one be so; but I, for my part, fear to attribute the torment of this life wholly to wickedness, or prosperous and happy events wholly to piety. Indeed, sometimes this even happens for some benefit, such as that the course of vice might be restrained by the suffering of the wicked, or the path for virtue be paved by the prosperity of the good. But this is not always or entirely the case; rather, this is reserved only for the time to come, ^C in which some shall receive the rewards of virtue, and others the punishments for their crimes. "For they shall rise," he says, "some to the resurrection of life, but others to the resurrection of judgment." But the form and government of the things of this age are of another kind, and of another way of life, though all things tend toward that end, and, before God, that which appears unequal to us surely has a certain uniformity—not unlike the way that, in bodies, the projections and depressions, the sizes and smallnesses, and on the earth the elevations and descents, are things from which a mutual beauty is composed and perceived through their relationship to one another. Indeed, what is disordered and unequal in the artisan’s first rough sketch of the material would nevertheless be highly ingenious if it were adapted to the construction of a certain work; ^D a thing we finally understand and admit only when we behold the elegance of the finished work, perfect and absolute in every way. But He is not ignorant of the art, as we are; nor are the affairs of this life governed rashly and incoherently just because we do not possess their proven reasons.

XXXII. But if an image of our condition, with which we are struggling, must be presented, we are not much unlike those who suffer from nausea and vertigo, who think that all things are turning upside down, while they themselves are turning. The same thing also happens to those of whom we speak. For they cannot bear that God should be wiser than they, if they suffer vertigo regarding any of the things that come to pass.

^A Indeed, they ought to have labored to investigate the reason, so that by care and diligence they might perhaps have reached the truth; or to have consulted men wiser and more spiritual than themselves on these matters, since this also is reckoned among the gifts of the Spirit, and knowledge is not given to all; or finally, to have sought it through the purgation of their life, and to have asked for wisdom from the true Wisdom. But they (O, the ignorance of it!) turn to what is easier and more ready to hand, and they fabricate an irrationality of the whole, being themselves ignorant of the reason; and they are wise due to ignorance, or—if I may say so—by way of a superfluous wisdom, they are unwise and senseless. From this, some have dogmatized that there is chance and spontaneity, inventions truly spontaneous and fashioned as if by accident. ^B Others have woven together a certain irrational and inescapable power of the stars, as if they were willing—or rather, constrained—to weave our affairs, as well as the weaving of them itself; and to these they added the conjunctions, recessions, and the sovereign movement over all things of certain planets and fixed stars. Others have introduced whatever each one imagined for the wretched race of men, partitioning into various opinions and names whatever is unreachable and unobservable to them regarding Providence. ^C There are also those who have condemned Providence for great poverty, thinking that it indeed directs things above us, but having been reluctant to bring it down to us, who are most in need—as if fearing that, if more were benefited, one might show the Benefactor to be better, or God might grow weary of doing good to many.

XXXIII. But let us leave these people, as I said, since Scripture has already excellently refuted them: *Their foolish heart was darkened; saying that they were wise, they became fools, and they changed the glory of the incorruptible God* 20 into certain fictions and shadows, insulting the Providence that extends through all things. ^D As for us, let us not fabricate such portents of doctrine, if we have any care for reason, being as we are endowed with reason and worshippers of the Reason, nor let us accept those who do, even if they have a quick and ready tongue for absurd discourses and dogmas and delight in novelty. Let us rather believe that God is the Maker and Architect of all things; for how would the universe have stood, had it not been created and fitted together by some maker? And let us also introduce Providence, which keeps and binds together this whole, since even a provider

^A of these things whose maker it is necessary to be—if the whole were not to be borne along by chance like a ship in a storm, immediately to be loosened and torn apart due to the disorder of matter, and to be brought back to the ancient confusion and lawlessness. And let us accept that our own Maker—whether you prefer to call him creator or shaper—presides over our affairs, especially since our life is governed through opposites, perhaps for this reason also unknown ones, so that we may admire the Reason that surpasses all things through that which is hard to discern. For whatever is easily taken is also altogether contemptible; but that which is above us, by as much as it is harder to reach, by that much is it more admirable; and everything that escapes our grasp exercises the longing.

^B XXXIV. Therefore, let us neither marvel at all health, nor despise all sickness, nor set our heart on flowing wealth, clinging to it more than is fitting, as if wasting a part of our soul upon it; nor, on the other hand, let us pursue poverty as something entirely detestable, condemned, and hated. But let us know how both to despise thoughtless health, the fruit of which is sin, and to hold holy sickness in honor, venerating those who have attained victory through pain and torment, lest perhaps some Job be hidden among the sick, much more excellent and venerable than those who are in health of body, even if he scrape his sores, and even if he be vexed night and day under the open sky, crowded by his plague, his wife, and his friends alike. And let us reject ^C unrighteous riches, for which the rich man in the flame is justly tormented, and imploringly seeks a small drop of water with which to cool his tongue; and let us conversely praise poverty joined with a grateful spirit and virtue, with which Lazarus is saved, and is enriched by the rest in Abraham's bosom.

XXXV. But to me, for this reason also, kindness and compassion toward the poor appear necessary, that we may stop the mouths of those who feel this way about them, and not yield to empty words, enacting a law of cruelty against ourselves; but let us be moved by the greatest of all commands and the example. What, pray, is this command? And consider, I beseech you, how constant it is, and how sincere. For those moved by the Holy Spirit did not ^D cease once they had spoken once or twice about the poor; nor did some cease while others did not, or rather some

^A did so less, as if it were not about a great matter or something very urgent; but all of them, and everyone with diligence, either first or among the first, commanded this, sometimes urging, sometimes threatening, sometimes upbraiding; and there are times when they also commend those who succeed, that by the constancy of their reminder they might put the commandment into effect. "Because of the misery of the needy and the groaning of the poor, I will now arise," says the Lord (6). Who does not fear the Lord when He rises? And, "Arise, O Lord my God (7), let Your hand be lifted up; do not forget the poor" (8). We would pray to be spared such a rising, and may we not wish to see a hand raised against the disobedient, and even more, one let loose upon the heartless. And He did not forget the cry of the poor; and, "The poor shall not be forgotten to the end" (10); and, "His eyes look upon the poor (the eyelid is better and more sovereign [11]), but His eyelids examine the sons of men," or the lesser, as one might say, and secondary ^B scrutiny (12).

XXXVI.

^A Let us be purified, then, by showing mercy; let us wash away the filth and stains of our souls with this beautiful plant, and let us be whitened—some as wool, others as snow—in proportion to our compassion. Shall I say something even more fearful? If there is no bruising in you, nor welt, nor swelling wound, nor any leprosy of the soul—either that which signifies a touch, or is clearly visible, which the Law indeed cleansed only slightly, but which requires the hand of Christ to heal—then at least revere Him who was wounded and crushed for our sake. You will revere Him if you show yourself kind and humane to a member of Christ. But if, perhaps, the plunderer and tyrant of our souls has wounded you—either as you were descending from Jerusalem to Jericho, or having caught you unarmed and unprepared elsewhere—to such an extent that you may justly say those words: "My wounds have grown foul and festered because of my foolishness": if you are in this state, so that you do not even seek a cure, nor know the way of your ^B healing, alas for the truly grievous wound and the deep-seated misery! But if you are not yet completely lost, nor suffer from an incurable disease, approach the Physician, entreat Him, heal wounds with [other] wounds; acquire like with like; or rather, be healed of greater things by lesser things. To your soul He will say: "I am your salvation"; and, "Your faith has saved you"; and, "Behold, you have been made whole"; and all the words of love for mankind, if only He sees you to be a lover of mankind toward those who are in pain.

XXXVIII. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.

^A 285 pre-eminent. But we should rejoice, not grieve, when we give a benefit. If you remove the bond and the election, he says, that is, the tenacity and the examination, or even the hesitation and the murmuring, what will happen? ^A How great and marvelous! How great and how much is the reward for this! "Your light shall break forth in the morning, and your healings shall spring forth speedily." Who, then, is he who does not long for light and healing?

^B XXXIX. Also, the money-bag of Christ, which exhorts us to the care of the poor, moves me; and the agreement between Paul and Peter, who, having divided the preaching of the Gospel among themselves, made the poor their common charge; and the perfection of that youth, which was defined and ordained to be in the giving of one's possessions to the poor. Do you think that philanthropy is not necessary for you, but optional? and not a law, but advice? I myself would very much have wished and supposed this; but the left hand terrifies me, and the goats, and the reproaches which are cast by Him who placed them there—not because they have plundered, nor because they have robbed, or committed adultery, or done any other of the things that are forbidden, being condemned for such conduct, but because they have not ministered to Christ through those in need.

^C XL. Therefore, if you think I should be heard at all, slaves of Christ, and brothers, and co-heirs, let us visit Christ, while there is still time; let us care for Christ, let us feed Christ, let us clothe Christ, let us gather Christ, let us honor Christ. Not with a table alone, as some do, nor with ointments, as Mary did, nor with a tomb alone, as Joseph of Arimathea did, nor with the things that pertain to burial, as that Nicodemus, who was but a half-hearted lover of Christ, did; nor with gold and frankincense and myrrh, as the Magi did before those already mentioned. But since the Lord of all desires mercy and not sacrifice, and compassion surpasses myriads of fat lambs, let us offer this to Him through those who are in need, and who are today cast down on the ground, so that when we depart from here, they may receive us into the eternal tabernacles, in Christ our Lord Himself, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

ADMONITION ON ORATION XV

1. Gregory, in this oration, while recounting the noble words, deeds, and victories of the elder Eleazar, of the seven Maccabean brothers, and of their courageous mother, adorns their triumph with all the colors of Christian and religious eloquence. The orator begins, as it were, abruptly (n. 1): *Τί δὲ οἱ Μακκαβαῖοι;* "But what of the Maccabees?" By this question it is signified, as the scholiast Basil rightly observes, that it was asked and doubted by some "whether the Maccabees ought to be numbered among the martyrs, and whether they should be honored with the same honor as they, or not." The Theologian subtly proposes and solves this question with this way of beginning. For before he touches upon the praises of the Maccabees, having weighed various reasons on both sides in passing and clearly, he asserts that the Maccabees are therefore to be praised, "not precisely because they existed as such before the cross, but because they directed the pattern of their life to the standard of the cross." He admits, however, that they are not honored by many; but he judges them worthy to be honored by all.

II. In what year and in what place this was delivered, we cannot say with certainty. Nothing occurs in this oration, nor in the interpreters, by which we might have a settled opinion on this matter. We can only conjecture this much: that this is one of those [orations] whose "arguments" Basil sometimes "supplied" to Gregory. Therefore, we will not think it incorrect that this was perhaps, and more likely, delivered before the Caesareans in the year 373. Nicetas, however, writes that it was spoken in Constantinople; but his opinion is supported by no documents; therefore, he could surely bring this forward only by conjecture; hence it is to be reckoned as nothing.

ORATIO XV

In praise of the Maccabees.

I. But what of the Maccabees? For we celebrate this present festival in their name; who, although they are not honored by many because they did not struggle after Christ, are nevertheless worthy to be honored by all, because they showed a brave spirit for their ancestral laws and institutions. For those who underwent martyrdom before the passions of Christ, what indeed would they have done if they had suffered persecution after Christ, and had his death, undertaken for our sake, set before them to imitate? For if those who, without such an example, flourished with such praise for virtue, would they not have shown themselves much stronger if the danger had befallen them with the example [before them]? And at the same time, this is a mystical and secret discourse, at least to me and to all who are endowed with the love of God, and very probable: namely, ^B that no one of those who were perfected before the presence of Christ attained this [perfection] apart from faith in Christ. For the Word ^C was revealed indeed later in his own times, but was known even before to those who were pure in mind, as is clear from many of those who were honored before him. ^D

ORATION XV. — IN PRAISE OF THE MACCABEES.

^B II. Therefore, the Machabees are not to be despised because they existed before the cross; but they are to be praised because they arranged the account of their lives according to the norm of the cross, and they are worthy of the honor of our words—not that anything might be added to their glory (for what can a speech bring to those whose glory rests upon their own actions and deeds?), but that those who praise them may attain glory, and those who hear them may emulate their virtue, being stirred up toward the pursuit of the same things by such a commemoration as if by certain goads. Indeed, who these men were, and whence they came, and from what kind of initial discipline and instruction they emerged into such a magnitude of virtue and glory—so that they are celebrated by these annual festivals and solemn processions, and a glory greater than what is seen by the eyes is stored up in the souls of all—the book which philosophizes about the mind being lord of the passions, and master of the inclination toward both virtue, I say, and vice, will clearly reveal to those who are studious and diligent. For it made use of not a few other testimonies, and indeed of the struggles of these men; but for me it will suffice to say this much.

^C III. Here is Eleazar, the first-fruits of those who suffered before Christ, just as Stephen was of those after Christ; a man who was a priest and an elder, gray in hair and gray in wisdom; who previously was offering sacrifices and prayers for the people, but who now, as the most perfect sacrifice, was offering himself to God, an expiation for the whole people, a favorable prelude to the struggle, an exhortation both speaking and silent. He offered also his seven sons, the fruits of his own training, a living sacrifice, holy, well-pleasing to God, brighter and purer than any legal sacrifice. For it is most fair and most just to ascribe the virtues of children and disciples to the father and the teacher. There, brave and magnanimous are the children, the noble offspring of a noble mother, ^D and—

^A valiant champions of the truth, higher than the times of Antiochus, true disciples of the Law of Moses, and strict guardians of the ancestral customs. They are the number of those commended among the Hebrews, honored by the mystery of the seventh-day rest, breathing as one, looking to one goal, knowing but one path of life—namely, death suffered for the sake of God. They were brothers no less in soul than in body, vying with one another for the sake of their end (O the wonder of it!), snatching up the torments as if they were treasures, and risking themselves for the sake of the Law—their schoolmaster. They were not fearing the torments being brought upon them so much as they were seeking after those that remained. They feared only one thing: that the tyrant might grow weary of his torturing and stop, and thus some of them might depart without their crowns, being unwillingly separated from their brothers and carrying away an evil victory; for they had been brought to such a state that their danger was that they might not be tortured.

^B IV. There was a brave and strenuous mother, a lover of both her children and of God, and so affected that her maternal heart was stirred in a way contrary to the custom of nature. She did not grieve for her children who were being subjected to punishment; rather, she was of a solicitous and anxious mind, fearing that the punishment might not be brought upon them. She did not yearn more for those who had departed than she prayed that those who remained might be joined to them; indeed, she had more care for the latter than for those who had already passed from this life. For the struggle of the former was still doubtful and uncertain, while the departure of the latter from this life was secure. And those she had already commended to God, but for the others she labored that God might receive them. ^C O manly spirit in a female body! O glorious and admirable gift! O sacrifice, greater and more excellent than the sacrifice of Abraham (I fear to say this, lest it be considered too daring)! For he readily offered one, although he was his only-begotten, and divinely promised, and indeed he to whom the promise itself referred—and what is greater, that he was the first-fruits and root not only of his own race, but of all such offerings. But this woman consecrated to God a whole people of sons, having surpassed both mothers and priests alike, with victims so ready for the slaughter, like rational burnt-offerings, like sacrificial animals hastening to their end. She showed them her breasts, recalled their upbringing, extended her aged hands, and ^D...

presented her old age as a ^A kind of formal petition; not seeking to save their lives, but urging them to face the torture, considering the delay of death, rather than death itself, to be dangerous. Nothing could bend, soften, or weaken that strength and constancy of spirit: not the instruments designed for dislocating limbs which were brought into the midst, not the wheels that were set out, not the most exquisite varieties of torture, not the edges of iron claws, not the swords that were being sharpened, not the boiling ^B cauldrons, not the fire that was being stoked, not the threats of the tyrant, not the populace, not the urging guard, not the sight of their kin, not the dismembered limbs, not the mangled flesh, not the flowing rivers of blood, not the youthful age that was being consumed, not the present evils, not the impending bitterness. Moreover, the very delay of the danger, which is usually considered most burdensome to others in such circumstances, appeared most light to her. For she was suffused with an incredible pleasure at this spectacle. The delay, indeed, in some way prolonged the torments, not just the mere variety of the tortures that were applied—all of which she and they scorned more resolutely than any other person would have borne even one of them more lightly—but also the manifold speeches of the tyrant, sometimes using insults, sometimes threatening, at other times offering enticements: for what did he not set in motion to achieve what he hoped for?

V.

the mother’s words, with which she first exhorted them to martyrdom, and then graced their funeral. What, then, were the words of the children? It is good to recount these for you, so that you may have a pattern, just as for the struggle, so too for the speeches of martyrs in such times. Some used one kind of speech, others another, as each was armed by the tyrant’s words, by the sequence of dangers, or by the eagerness of the soul. But to summarize them: they were of this sort: “To us, Antiochus, and to all who are present, there is one King, God, from whom we were created and to whom we shall return. One Lawgiver is Moses, whom we will not betray, nor shall we insult him; not through the dangers which that man endured for the sake of virtue, and the many miracles he performed, not even if another Antiochus, more cruel than you, threatens us. One guard is the observance of the divine commandment, and that the Law, by which we are fenced about, not be broken. One glory is for the sake of such things to despise all glory. One wealth is the things hoped for; and nothing is fearful, except to fear anything before God. With these reasonings ^B we have been drawn up in battle, and thus we have been armed; with such youths as these, Antiochus, you have your argument. Pleasant indeed is this world, and the fatherland, and friends, and kinsmen, and those of our own age, and this temple, whose name is great and renowned, and the ancestral feasts, and the mysteries, and all things by which we seem to excel others. But do not think that these are more pleasant than God and the dangers undertaken for the sake of the good; do not think this. For we have another world, much higher and more lasting than the things that are seen; a fatherland is the Jerusalem above, which no Antiochus will besiege, nor will he hope to capture, the strong and impregnable one. Kinship is that inspiration, and those begotten according to virtue. Friends are the prophets and patriarchs, from whom we have the pattern of piety. Those of our own age are they who to-day share in the dangers with us, and are our contemporaries in bearing suffering with a constant mind. As for the temple, the heaven is far more magnificent; and for festivity, there is the chorus of angels; and finally, one mystery, great and truly ^C the greatest, and hidden to the many, is God himself, to whom the mysteries of this life are also referred.

VI. “Wherefore cease promising us small things of no value. For we will not endure to be affected by base and shameful honors, nor shall we gain from things that bring damage; not thus ^D shall we trade away our lives. Cease also from threats, or we shall counter-threaten.”

^A revealing your own weakness, and besides this, our own instruments of torture; for we too possess a fire with which we torment our persecutors. Do you think that your struggle is with nations and cities, or with the most unmanly of kings, of whom some may emerge victorious, while others perhaps might be defeated? For there is no danger of such great consequence for them. You are arrayed against the law of God, against tablets engraved by God, against ancestral rites honored by both reason and time; you are arrayed against seven brothers bound together by a single soul, who shall mark you with seven trophies—men whom it is no great thing to defeat, but to be defeated by whom is indeed most shameful. We are of the lineage and are disciples of those whom a pillar of fire and cloud guided, ^B for whom the sea parted, and a river stood still, and the sun was held back, and bread rained down, and the stretching out of hands put tens of thousands to flight 65 through prayer; men whom wild beasts obeyed, and the fire did not touch, and before whom kings departed 66, marveling at their nobility. Let us mention also one of those known to you: we are the disciples of Eleazar, whose courage 20 you have known. The father contended first, the sons shall contend hereafter; the priest has departed, the victims shall follow. You threaten much, but we are prepared for even more. What, O haughty 21 one, will you do to us with these threats? What shall we suffer? Nothing is stronger than those who are prepared to suffer all things. O executioners 22, why do you delay? Why do you hesitate? Why do you await that "gracious" command? Where are the swords? Where are the chains? I demand speed. Let the fire be fanned higher, let the wild beasts be rendered more fierce, let the tortures be more exquisite 24; let all be royal and more luxurious. I am the firstborn, consecrate me first; I am the last, let the order be changed; let someone of those in the middle be among the first, that we may be honored with an equal share. Do you spare us? Do you, perhaps, expect 25 something to the contrary? Again and many times we will say the same word: We will not eat of forbidden things, we will not yield 26. Sooner shall you yourself reverence our things, than we shall yield 27 to yours. The sum of the matter: devise more novel torments, or know that the present ones are held in contempt.

^A

VII. Such was their speech to the tyrant. But what they said to one another for the sake of mutual encouragement, and what spectacles they presented—how glorious, how sacred, and to those who love God how much pleasanter than any other sight or sound! For my own part, as I recall them, I am filled with pleasure, and I am in spirit an athlete with them in their struggle, and I take pride in this narrative. They embraced one another, they kissed, with hearts no less joyful than if they had already come to the end of their contests. "Let us go to the perils, brothers," they cried; "let us go, let us hasten, as long as the tyrant is still heated against us, lest he perhaps soften and we be deprived of our salvation. A feast is spread: let us not be absent. It is a beautiful thing indeed for brothers to dwell together, to feast together, and to stand shield to shield; but it is more beautiful to face danger together for the sake of virtue. If it had been possible, we would have fought with our bodies for the customs and institutions of our fathers; for this kind of death also is not lacking in praise. ^B But since the nature of the time does not allow that, let us at least offer our bodies themselves. For why? Even if we do not die at this time, shall we not die entirely? Shall we not pay the tribute owed to our birth? Let us turn necessity into an honor; let us devise a way to escape from dissolution; let us make what is common our own; let us buy life with death. Let no one among us be a lover of this life, nor cowardly or timid. Let us act so that when the tyrant comes upon us, he may despair of all the rest. He may impose an order upon the perils, but we shall impose an end to the persecution; and let us not compete among ourselves out of the fervor of our eagerness. For the first will be the way for the others, and the last, the seal of the contest. But let this be fixed and certain for us, that we all without exception attain the crown, and that the persecutor does not take any part from among us, and, swelling with wickedness, glory over one as if he had broken the constancy of all. Let us endeavor that, just as in birth, ^C so also in death we may be brothers — ^D

^A as if they were sharpening each other’s teeth like boars ^B, they persevered in the order of their age and in the equality of their zeal. This was a pleasure and a wonder to their countrymen; but to the persecutors, who had campaigned against the entire nation, it was a source of fear and astonishment ^A that seven brothers, fighting with one mind for piety, had so easily defeated them that they no longer had any bright hopes regarding the others.

The noble mother, too, the parent truly worthy of such and so many children, that great and magnanimous offspring of the Law, was for a time filled with a mixture of joy and fear, hovering between two states. She was filled with joy because of their courage and what she beheld, but with fear because of the future and the excess of the torments. As a bird hovers around its nestlings when a snake or some other malicious creature creeps toward them, she fluttered about, chirped, and pleaded, fighting alongside them; what did she not say, and what did she not do for those who were being anointed for victory? She caught the drops of blood, she received the torn pieces of their limbs, she venerated their remains; one she gathered up, another she urged forward, another she prepared. She cried out to them all: “Well done, my children; well done, my champions; well done, you who are almost incorporeal within your bodies; well done, guardians of the Law, of my gray hairs, and of the city that nurtured you and advanced you to this height of virtue. A little longer, and we have won. The torturers are weary—this is the only thing I fear. A little longer, and I shall be blessed among mothers, and you blessed among youths. But do you long for your mother? I will not abandon you, this I promise you: I am not so much a hater of my children.”

^D IX. After she saw that they had been perfected, and felt secure in the completion of their struggle, she lifted her head very radiantly, just like an Olympic victor, with a lofty spirit, and stretching out her hands, she said in a great and clear voice: “I thank you, holy Father, and you, teaching Law, and you, Eleazar, our father and the champion of your children in the contest, because you have received the fruit of my labor pains, and because I have become more holy than all mothers. I have left nothing for the world; I have given everything to God.”

^A my treasure, the nursing hopes of my old age. How magnificently have I been honored! How excellently has my old age been adorned and cared for! I have the rewards of your upbringing, O my sons! I have seen you all struggling for the sake of virtue, I have beheld you all as victors. I gaze upon your executioners as if they were my benefactors; and nothing is more natural ^B than that I should offer thanks to the tyrant for this, that he observed this order of punishments, that he kept me for the last to face the perils, in order that, after I had first watched my own offspring and had struggled in the person of each of my sons, I might at last depart from here with perfect security and with perfect sacrifices. I will not tear my hair, I will not rend my garment, I will not lacerate my flesh with my nails, I will not raise a lament, I will not summon those who join in grieving, I will not shut myself up in darkness, ^C so that the very air might mourn with me; I shall wait for no comforters, I will set out no funeral bread. For these things are fitting for cowardly mothers, mothers of base spirit, who are mothers of the flesh alone, and whose sons perish without anything worth commemorating. But for me, dearest sons, you have not died or been extinguished, but have been offered to God: you have not failed, but have migrated elsewhere; you have not been torn apart, but have been joined and compacted together. No wild beast has snatched you, no wave has overwhelmed you, no robber has slaughtered you, no disease has wasted you, no force of war, nor finally has anything else of human affairs, whether small or great, taken you away. I would have been in the greatest grief if any of these things had happened to you. Then indeed, by weeping—just as now by restraining my tears—I would have given a sign of maternal love. But these things are still small. Truly, therefore, I would have bewailed your fate, if you had been badly kept, if you had been broken by torments, if the persecutors had overcome any one of you, just as they themselves have been overcome. But as things are, what has happened to you is of such a kind that it ought to stir up praises, joy, glory, choral dances, and every sort of delight and hilarity in those who have been left behind. For I myself am being poured out as a libation after you. We shall be placed alongside Phinehas, we shall be celebrated with Anna; ^D except that he had but one, while you are many who have been endowed with zeal, and are slayers of fornicators—not of bodies, but having pierced with the sword the fornication of souls. And she indeed had one, given by God, just born and only that one; but I have consecrated to God seven men, and them willing. Let Jeremiah also complete for me the funeral eulogy, not mourning, but celebrating a holy end. You have shone brighter than snow, you have been curdled purer than milk, your gathering is more precious than sapphire stone, dedicated to God both as born and as given. What more? Add me, O tyrant, to my sons, if there is any favor even from enemies, so that the contest may be more solemn for you. Would that I had also passed through all the torments, after I had produced my offspring in the theater and in the procession, and had sweated in the struggle of each of my children.

^A I cherish the torments for my children's sake, or if not that, then let dust receive dust, and let one tomb contain us. Do not begrudge the equal in virtue the death that is equal. Farewell, mothers; farewell, children. Thus do you rear those who have come forth from you; thus be reared. We have given you a fair example; struggle.

X. Succession of the Martyrs and the Mother’s Victory

^B Having spoken these words, she joined herself to her children. In what way? As if she were running to a bridal chamber (for she had been condemned to the pyre), not even waiting for those who were leading her, so that no profane hands might touch a body that was holy and noble. Thus did Eleazar enjoy the priesthood, having been initiated in heavenly things and having initiated others; and not having sanctified Israel with external sprinklings, but with his own blood, he made his death his final mystery. Thus did the children of the youth, not having enslaved themselves to pleasures but having mastered their passions, purify their body and translate themselves to a life without passion. Thus did the mother enjoy her many children; thus she was adorned while they lived, and she rested with them when they departed; those whom she had brought forth for the world, she presented to God, having numbered her own birth pangs by their struggles, and having identified the succession of her offspring through their deaths. For from the first child to the last, the struggle continued; and as if in the surging of waves, one after another displayed his virtue and was more eager to suffer, being whetted by the perils of the one who had preceded him; so much so that the tyrant came to love the fact that she had not been the mother of even more—for he would have departed even more disgraced and defeated. And then for the first time he knew that he could not achieve everything by force and arms, when he attacked defenseless boys, who were armed with piety alone, and were more ready to suffer any torments than he was to inflict them.

XI. Comparison of this Sacrifice with that of Jephthah

^D This is safer than the sacrifice of Jephthah, and...

more magnificent. ^A For it did not make the sacrifice a matter of necessity, as it did there, through the fervor of a promised vow or the ambition for a desperate victory; but the sacrifice proceeded from a free will, and indeed of such a kind that it relied only on the rewards which are placed in hope. This is in no way inferior to the contests of Daniel, who was thrown to the lions as food and overcame the beasts by the extension of his hands. This in no way yields to the wrestling of the youths who were captive in Assyria, whom an angel cooled in the midst of the flames, for they did not destroy the ancestral law nor admit forbidden and unholy food. This, finally, deserves no less praise and glory than those victims who were afterwards slain for Christ. For they, as we said at the beginning of our discourse, followed the blood of Christ; and they had God as the leader of such struggles, who had brought forth such and so paradoxical an offering on our behalf; but to these others, the examples of virtue were neither many nor of such a kind. Yet all of Judea ^B admired their fortitude and constancy, and exulted and were raised in spirit, just as if it had itself attained the crown. For this struggle was the greatest of all the struggles in which the city had ever been involved, so that on that day, either the authority of the law would be overturned, or it would attain glory and splendor; and the whole Hebrew nation was brought to such a point that the entire state of their affairs was contained within the danger of this struggle, and, as the saying goes, stood on the razor’s edge. Antiochus himself also, his threats having been converted into admiration, was filled with wonder. For even enemies know how to admire the virtue of brave men when, with anger subsided, the matter itself is weighed in and of itself. Wherefore he departed with his business unfinished, ^C praising his father Seleucus, who had bestowed the greatest honors upon this nation and had adorned the temple with magnificent gifts, but being very angry with Simon, who had induced him to undertake this expedition, as one who had been the author of his own cruelty and of the disgrace he had received. XII. Let us follow the example of these people, then, both priests, and mothers, and children. The priests, indeed, in honor of Eleazar, the spiritual father, who not only by word but also by deed showed and taught what was best; the mothers, ^D in honor of the noble mother, yielding true proof of love toward their children, and presenting your offspring to Christ, so that through such a sacrifice holiness may be compared to marriage; and the children, finally, revering the holy children, and spending their youth not in base and foul passions, but in struggles against the passions, and bravely playing the man against the daily Antiochus.

with the struggle against wicked affections, and strenuously contending with our daily Antiochus, who wages war upon all our members and pursues them in various ways. For I desire to have athletes at every time and in every manner, of every sex and age, whether battling in open war or being assailed by secret snares; and to be helped by both ancient and recent histories, and like bees, to collect the most useful things for the skillful confection and sweetness of a single honeycomb, so that both by the Old and New Testament God may be glorified in us, who is glorified in the Son and the Holy Spirit, and who knows those who are His, and is known by His own, and confessing Himself confesses those who confess Him, and glorifies those who glorify Him, in Christ Himself, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

ADMONITION ON ORATION XVI

ORATION XVI

^A that serves the law? Why do you provoke to speak ^B that which yields to the Spirit? Why, leaving the head, do you rush to the feet? Why, passing over Aaron, do you bring forward Eleazar? I do not suffer the fountain to be obstructed and the torrent to run; the sun to be eclipsed and the star to shine; gray hairs to withdraw and youth to legislate; wisdom to be silent and inexperience to boast insolently. For surely, a greater volume of rain is not more useful than a lesser one. For what? If it is too violent, it washes away the soil and diminishes the husbandman’s crops; but the latter, falling gently and penetrating even to the depths, fattens the field, benefits the cultivator, and turns the blade into ripe fruit. Nor likewise, in sermons, is he who excels in abundance of speech more fruitful and useful than the one who is wiser. For the former, though he may have perhaps afforded the hearer a slight pleasure, has departed, and at once vanished with the air that was struck, having no power beyond this than to have charmed greedy ears with the grace of his tongue as if with some illusions. But the latter has penetrated into the mind and, having widened the mouth, filled it with the Spirit; and he has appeared greater than his own origin ^C, and in a few syllables has produced a great harvest.

II. I do not yet speak of that true and primary wisdom, the primacy of which this illustrious shepherd and husbandman holds. For the first wisdom is a life that is upright and honest, and thoroughly purified for God, or provided it is being purified—for God, I say, who is most pure and most splendid, and who requires from us only the sacrifice of purification—which Scripture is accustomed to call a contrite heart, and a sacrifice of praise [Ps. XLIX, 23], and a new creation in Christ [II Cor. v, 17], and a new man [Ephes. IV, 24], and other things of this kind. The first wisdom is to spurn the wisdom that is situated in speech and in the shifts of diction and in adulterated and superfluous figures. For my part, would that it might be my lot to speak five words with understanding, rather than ten thousand in a tongue and voice of a trumpet without sense [I Cor. XIV, 19]; not in the least inciting my soldier to spiritual warfare. This is the wisdom I praise, this I embrace, through which the ignoble have obtained glory, and to which those who were of no account have been preferred, and with which fishermen have ensnared the whole world with the bonds of the Gospel—themselves having overcome the wisdom that is passing away by a finished and brief word [Rom. IX, 28]. For he who is wise in ^D speech is not, to me, wise, nor he who has a ready tongue but an unstable and uneducated soul, like

those graves which, being outward-fair and beautiful, are inwardly full of rotting corpses and cover over a great stench. But he is truly wise who speaks little of virtue, but shows much in what he does, and adds credibility to speech through his life.

^B III. Better to my mind is the beauty that is perceived by the eyes than that which is painted in words; and the wealth that hands hold, than that which dreams fashion; and the wisdom that is demonstrated through works, than that which shines and glitters in speech. For a good understanding is for all who practice it, he says, but not for those who preach it. The most accurate tester of this wisdom is time, and old age is truly a crown of glory. For if it is not right to deem a man blessed before his death, as Salomon and I think, and it is uncertain what the coming day will bring forth—for our life below has many "turns," and the body of humiliation is moved up and down and constantly changed—how is it not true that he who has spent the greater part of his life blamelessly, and is, as it were, already in the harbors of the common sea of life, is safer and therefore more blessed than he to whom a long voyage still remains?

^C IV. Do not, therefore, close the tongue that has spoken much and well, whose fruits are many, and many are the offspring of righteousness; for whose children and what treasures there are, lift up your eyes round about and see; this whole people is the one you have begotten in Christ through the Gospel. Do not, then, begrudge us more than a few words, nor give us a prelude to the impending loss. Speak, even if but a little, yet words dear and most sweet to me; though they be less audible, yet let them be such as are recognized through the spiritual cry, by which God heard Moses even when he was silent; and to him, praying mentally, it was said: "Why do you cry to me?" ^D Compose for me the people with your own ward, and thereafter shepherd, and now also chief shepherd. Teach me something concerning pastorship, and this people concerning obedience; philosophize a little about the present plague, and about the just judgments of God, whether we grasp them or are ignorant of the great abyss. How is it that almsgiving [reaches] to scales,

^A for goodness is not indiscriminate, even if it seemed otherwise to those who labored first in the vineyard, who, in the equality of the reward, did not understand the inequality of the labor, and how anger, which is called the cup in the hand of the Lord, and the cup of ruin which is drunk, corresponds in proportion to sins—even though he detracts something from the severity of the merited punishment for all, and tempers the neat wine of anger with benevolence; so that from severity he inclines to lenity and grace those who are instructed by fear, and who, from a small calamity, conceive and bring forth the correction of their ways, and bring forth the perfect spirit of salvation? But the dregs—that is, the extreme part of the anger—he reserves, to pour it out entirely upon those who are not at all healed by benevolence, but rather are hardened, just as that Pharaoh, laboring under the hardness of heart, and grievous in the imposition of works, [was] reserved to provide a specimen of the divine power against the impious.

V. Explain, whence such plagues and scourges ^B arise, and what is their reason? Is it some unordained, preposterous movement of the universe, devoid of all government, and a blind rashness, as if there were no one presiding over the regulation of things, and in short, as if chance brought these things about—as is the opinion of men who are foolishly wise, and those who are rashly carried along by a headlong and dark spirit? Or rather, is this whole mass of things, just as it was first created, tempered, linked, and moved with reason and order, as he alone knows who brought the movement, so also moved and arranged in various ways, led by the bridle ^C of Providence? Whence come famines, and blights brought by the winds, and hail—our present plague and admonition? Whence come corruptions of the air, and diseases, and the quaking of the surging earth, and the impetus of the sea raising itself on high, and terrors originating from heaven? And in what way does the creation, made for the use and convenience of men—those common, I say, and equal delights—change into the punishment of the impious? So that we may be instructed by those things for which we did not give thanks while we were adorned by them, and may recognize the power from those things which we suffer, since we did not recognize it from the benefits we received? In what way to some, from the hand of the Lord, are double [penalties] for sins awarded, and the measure of vice is filled by the double, according to which ^D Israel is disciplined; while to others, through the seven-fold [recompense] rendered into their bosom, their sins are emptied out? And what is the measure of the Amorites, not yet filled? And how is the sinner either released or punished

^A that, perhaps, he is reserved for the other life, this, that he may be recalled to health by that means? And in what way is the just man either oppressed by sufferings, that he may, perhaps, be tested, or possesses all things joyful, that he may be preserved, provided he be poor in spirit, and not overly exalted above those things which fall under the sense of the eyes, just as conscience, that is, the domestic and true tribunal, teaches of both these? What is this plague, and from where? Is it that our virtue should be searched out, or that wickedness should be avenged? Although it is better, as if for punishment (even if the matter stands otherwise), to cast down one’s spirit and be humbled under the mighty hand of God, than as if for probation to be exalted on high. Teach and admonish us of these things, lest we be too grievously vexed by the present plague, or, having fallen into a depth of evils, we despise it (for so this in fact happens to many), but rather let us behave ourselves prudently in this castigation, lest, by the stupidity of our mind and by receiving it without feeling, we bring a greater one upon ourselves. ^B

VI. A bitter thing is the barrenness of the earth, and the loss of fruits; and why not indeed, when they already gladdened us with hope, and were drawing near to the granaries? A bitter thing is an untimely harvest, and husbandmen following their own labors with mourning, and sitting as if by the dead, by the seedlings which a gentle rain nurtured, but a wild and savage one mowed down; those which the reaper did not fill his hand with, nor did he who gathers the sheaves fill his bosom; nor did he attain on their account that blessing which those who pass by are wont to bestow upon husbandmen. A pitiable spectacle, the earth struck by disaster, and shorn, and not possessing its own adornment. ^C The blessed Joel laments the corruption of the earth and the torture of famine, as if any other man were lamenting tragically; and another prophet laments, setting the final deformity against the prior beauty, when, speaking of the wrath of the Lord striking the earth, he speaks in this way: The parts before him are a garden of delight, and the parts behind him are a field of extermination. These are indeed terrible things, and more than terrible, as long as the present things alone bring distress, and the feeling of a more atrocious plague does not yet strike the soul with sorrow; since, just as in diseases, the present calamity is always more grievous than that which is far off. But the treasures of divine wrath contain things more grievous ^D than these, which would that it might not befall you to experience! Nor indeed will you experience them, provided you take refuge in the mercies of God, and draw forth the one who wills mercy with tears, and turn away the sequel of wrath through repentance. These things are still gentleness, and philanthropy, and a mild training, and elements

^A of the blow that instructs our infancy; it is still the smoke of anger, the prelude to torments, but not yet the fire that consumes, which is the acme of the impulse, nor the kindled coals that are the final parts of the scourge—of which He threatened some, brandished others, forcibly restrained some, and inflicted others. He instructs us alike through the blow and the threat, and by his incredible magnitude of goodness, He paves a path for His own anger, that He might not have to use harsher measures, but instruct us through greater ones, if we should be driven to them.

VII. ^B I know of a gleaming spear and a sword drunk in heaven, commanded to slaughter, to destroy, to bereave, and not to spare even flesh, marrow, and bones. I know of Him who is free from all perturbation, yet like a bear famishing and a leopard meeting one on the way of the Assyrians—not only of those who lived then, but also of any who, by the wickedness of their lives, now act the Assyrian. And it is not possible for anyone to flee the strength and speed of His anger when He wakes up against our impieties, and when zeal, which knows how to devour adversaries, has pursued His enemies. I know of the shaking, the casting down, the bubbling up, the breaking of the heart, the loosening of the knees, and ^C such punishments as these, by which the crimes of the impious are avenged. For I pass over the tribunals of the future life, to which the indulgence and impunity of this life hands them over; so that it is better to be chastened and purged now than to be sent to that torture when it will be the time for punishment, not for purgation. For just as, as it was well said by David 20, he who remembers God here is superior to death, so there is no confession or correction of morals for those who have departed to Hades. For God has concluded both life and action here, and there, the examination of things done.

VIII. ^D What shall we do in the day of the visitation 21, with which one of the prophets terrifies me, whether it be when God speaks His judgments with us, or on the mountains and hills, as we have heard, or whatever it may be and in whatever place it is to happen, when He shall convict us and stand opposite, our sins burning

^A and standing as bitter accusers before our face, and setting against the benefits we have received those things which we have wrongfully committed, and striking thought with thought and act with act, and demanding from us the dignity of the image, which has been clouded and confounded by vice, He shall at last lead them away, self-convicted and self-condemned, and not even able to say that we are suffering unjustly—a thought which here, for those who are paying the penalty, sometimes has enough power to mitigate their condemnation and torment.

IX. But there, who is the advocate? What excuse is there? What false defense? What artificial convincingness? What device shall hoodwink the tribunal against the truth, and steal the upright judgment, which puts everything for everyone in the balance—action, and word, and thought—and weighs the better things against the evil ones, so that the weightier aspect may win, and the vote may be cast with the greater side, after which there is no appeal, no higher judge, no defense through secondary works, no oil from the wise virgins or from those who sell it for the failing lamps, no repentance of the rich man melting in the flame ^B and requiring correction for his kin, no deadline for reformation? But it is only, and it is final, and the tribunal is fearful, and more just than it is fearful—or rather, for this very reason it is more fearful, because it is just. At the time when thrones are set, and the Ancient of Days takes his seat, and books are opened, and a river of fire is drawn along, and the light is in front, and the darkness is made ready; and they who have done good things shall go forth unto the resurrection of life, which is now hidden in Christ, and shall later be revealed with Him; while those who have done evil shall go forth unto the resurrection of judgment, by which they who do not believe have already been condemned by the word that judges them ^C; and those whom the ineffable light shall receive, and the contemplation of the holy and royal Trinity—shining more clearly and purely, and mingling itself wholly with the whole mind—which indeed I consider the only and greatest kingdom of heaven; while for the others, there is along with the rest, or rather before the rest, the torture of being cast away from God, and the shame in the conscience that has no end. And these things, then, are for later.

X. But now, what shall we do, brothers—contrite and humbled, and intoxicated, not with strong drink, nor with wine, which agitates the mind for a short time and casts darkness upon it, but with the blow which the Lord has dealt;

^A and who pours out a spirit of sorrow and compunction upon those who despise Him; to whom it is also said: "Behold, you despisers, and look, and wonder, and perish." How shall we bear His reproofs? Or what answer shall we give when, in addition to the multitude of benefits for which we have remained ungrateful, He shall also reproach us with the blows, and recount the types of medicine by which we have not been healed? And while calling us children, yet wicked ones, ^B and sons indeed, but aliens, and limping away from our paths on account of the extreme difficulty and roughness of the way, He will address us thus: "In what way, and by what means, was it fitting that you should be instructed, by which I have not instructed you? Was it by milder remedies? But those I did apply. The Egyptian blood, which was drunk from the springs and rivers and every collection of water, this I passed over as the first plague. I passed by the frogs, and the gnats, and the dog-flies, the plagues which followed next; but I began from the beasts, and the oxen, and the sheep, at the fifth plague, and I struck the irrational creatures, while still sparing those endowed with reason. Your crushing was nothing; but you have become more irrational and less instructed than those which were struck. I withheld the rain from you; one part was watered, ^C but the part upon which I denied rain dried up; and you said: 'We shall bear it bravely.' I sent hail upon you, punishing you with the opposite plague, I reaped your vineyards and thickets and produce; and yet I did not crush your wickedness."

XI. Furthermore, to me also, who do not become any better even by blows, perhaps He will use these words: "I know that you are stubborn, and your neck is an iron sinew." He who despised, still despises; he who acted wickedly, still acts wickedly; the warning from above is of no avail, the scourges are of no avail. The bellows are spent, the lead is spent, which I rebuked you with formerly also through Jeremiah: "The silversmith refines in vain; your wickednesses are not melted away." Will you ^D not endure me, says the Lord, in my anger? Or is my hand not able to bring other plagues besides? There are still with me bladders boiling up from the soot of the furnace, which Moses, or if there is any minister of divine wrath like him, scattering toward heaven, punishes Egypt with disease. There are still the locust, and the palpable darkness, and that plague which is last in order, but first in pain and power—namely, the slaughter and destruction of the firstborn—which, that we may escape and avert the exterminator from us, it is better to anoint the doorposts of the mind, contemplation and action, with that great and saving seal, namely, the blood of the New Testament, Christ, and his fellow-cross-bearers,

and to die with him, so that we may also rise together with him, and now and in his final appearing, be glorified, and reign together; but not be broken, and crushed, and lament, while that Wicked One, in the unseasonable night and in this dark life, strikes us and destroys the firstborn and the fruits and movements of our life that were consecrated to God. ^B

XII. Far be it from me, that along with other plagues, this also should be cast in my teeth by Him who is Good, who moves against me in oblique anger on account of my obliquity: *I have smitten you with blasting, and with mildew, and with rot; and yet you did not return to me*, says the Lord. Far be it that I should be the vineyard of the Beloved, which, after it had been planted and fenced, and fortified with a tower and all things, as much as was possible, should then grow wild and produce thorns, and for this reason come to such contempt that the tower is thrown down, and the wall is torn away, and it is neither pruned nor dug, but becomes a prey and a common insult and trampling for all. This is my fear, and this my word; and thus I am distressed at the plague, and I offer such a prayer, which I shall add to those things already said: *We have sinned, we have acted unjustly, we have committed impiety, because we have forgotten thy commandments, and have walked after our own evil thoughts; because we have not lived worthily of the calling and of the Gospel of thy Christ, and of his holy sufferings, and of the emptying which he underwent for our sake; because we have become a reproach to thy Beloved.* ^C Priest and people, *we have all together turned aside, we have all together become useless; there is none that does judgment and justice, there is not so much as one.* We have shut out thy mercies, and thy philanthropy, and the bowels of the mercy of our God, through our wickedness and the malice of our practices, in which we have walked. Thou art good, but we have committed iniquity; thou art longsuffering, but we are worthy of stripes. We know thy goodness, although we are senseless; for the things we have sinned, we have been scourged only a little. *Thou art terrible, and who shall stand against thee?* Mountains shall tremble from thee, and *at the greatness of thy arm who shall contend?* If thou shouldst close the heavens, who shall open them? And if thou shouldst loosen thy torrents, who shall restrain them? *A small thing in thy eyes is* the fall

^A of those who are poor, to make them rich, to bring to life and to kill, to strike and to heal; and thy will is a completed action. *Thou art angry, and we have sinned*, says one of the ancients in confession. But now it is time for me to say the contrary: We have sinned, and thou hast been angry; therefore we have become a reproach to our neighbors. Thou hast turned away thy face, and we have been filled with dishonor. But cease, O Lord; remit, O Lord; be propitious, O Lord; do not deliver us completely over because of our iniquities, nor let others be instructed by punishments meant for us, when it is possible for us to be corrected by the torments of others. Of whom, pray? Of the nations who have not known thee, and of the kingdoms which have not been subject to thy rule. But we are thy people, O Lord, and the rod of thy inheritance. Therefore, ^B chastise us, but in kindness and not in thy wrath; lest thou make us a very small remnant, and the most despised of all who inhabit the earth.

XIII. By these words I seek mercy; but if it were possible to appease his wrath with holocausts or sacrifices, I would not have spared even these. But you, do you yourselves also imitate the fearful priest; yes, beloved children, yes, you who are partners of divine admonition and kindness. Possess your souls in tears; calm the divine wrath by changing your pursuits and habits for the better. Sanctify a fast, proclaim a healing; just as the blessed Joel exhorts you together with me. Gather the elders, the infants at the breast, an age pitiable and especially worthy of the mercy of God. And it does not escape me what is commanded also to me, a minister of the Lord, and to you who have obtained the same honor: to enter in haircloth ^C and to beat our breasts day and night between the portico and the altar, pitiable in our very posture and appearance, yet more pitiable in our voices, crying out fervently both for ourselves and for the people, sparing nothing—neither toil, nor word, nor any other things by which the indignation of God is appeased—saying: *Spare, O Lord, thy people, and do not give thy inheritance over to reproach*, and what follows after that in the prayer; feeling so much the greater part of the affliction as we are superior in dignity, and by our own example instructing the people toward compunction and the correction of their wicked life, which indeed the gentleness of God and the suspension of the rod attend.

XIV. Come, therefore, all you, my brothers, let us worship, ^D and let us fall down, and let us weep before

the Lord who made us. Let us set up a common mourning, distinguishing ourselves by our ages and our families. Let us lift up the voice of supplication; instead of the cry that is hateful to Him, let us bring this into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth. Let us anticipate His anger with confession. Let us desire to behold Him as much turning and becoming appeased, as He was angry. "Who knows," He says, "if He will turn, and repent, and leave behind a blessing?" I know this clearly, I, the guarantor of God’s philanthropy. For even that which is contrary to His nature—I mean His anger—once set aside, He will move toward that which is according to His nature: mercy. For to that former state He is forced by us, whereas to this latter He has an inherent inclination. And if He strikes when forced, how should He not relent when using His natural disposition? Let us only have mercy upon ourselves, by opening a way for the just bowels of the Father ^A. Let us sow in tears, so that we may reap in rejoicing. Let us become Ninevites, not Sodomites; let us apply a remedy to our wickedness, lest we be consumed with our wickedness. Let us hear Jonah preaching, lest we be deluged by fire and sulfur. And even if we go out of Sodom, let us climb the mountain, let us take refuge in Segor, let us enter together with the rising sun. Let us not stand in all the surrounding region; let us not look back, lest we solidify into a pillar of salt—a pillar, indeed, immortal and an accuser of a soul turning back to wickedness.

XV. Let us recognize that to commit no sin ^B is indeed above man, and belongs to God alone—for I refrain from saying anything about the angels, lest we give occasion to the passions and a door to wicked rebuttals—and that incorrigible infirmity belongs to the wicked and opposing nature, and to those who are active under its influence. But to return after sinning is a human trait, yet a trait of the virtuous and of that portion which is being saved. For even if this dust drags along something of wickedness, and this earthy tabernacle weighs down the mind that is carried upward, or is created to be carried upward; yet let the image cleanse away the mire, and let it set the fellow-yoked flesh on high, lightening it with the wings of reason. And it is better, indeed, neither to have need of such a purification, nor to be purified, but to remain in the first dignity that we have received, ^C

^A to which we are also hastening through our training here, nor to fall away from the tree of life through the bitter taste of sin. But it is better, rather than to be unchastened while stumbling, to turn back when we have sinned. For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and there is something paternal in reproof; but every soul that is unadmonished remains uncured. Therefore it is not grievous to be struck, but it is more grievous not to be brought to one’s senses by the blow. One of the prophets says, speaking of Israel, who was hard and uncircumcised in heart: Lord, thou hast stricken them, and they did not feel; thou didst chasten them, and they refused to receive instruction; and again, And the people turned not, until they were stricken; and, Why hath my people turned back with a perverse turning, from which it shall be utterly crushed and destroyed? ^B

XVI. It is a fearful thing, brothers, to fall into the hands of the living God. Fearful is the countenance of the Lord upon those who do evil, utterly destroying and vanishing away wickedness. Fearful is the ear of God, hearing even through the silent blood the voice of Abel. Fearful are the feet that overtake wickedness. Fearful is the filling of the universe, so that there is nowhere to flee from the movement of God, neither by flying up to heaven, nor by descending into Hades, nor by fleeing to the east, nor by hiding in the depths or the ends of the sea. Nahum the Elkoshite also fears before me, in the burden against Nineveh which he publishes, the jealous God and the Lord who takes vengeance with fury upon His adversaries, and who uses such an excess of severity that He leaves not even a second vengeance against the wicked. For when I hear Isaiah, ^C threatening the people of Sodom and the rulers of Gomorrah, and saying: Why will ye be stricken still, adding transgression? I am almost filled with shivering, and I am confused with tears. There is no possibility, he says, of finding a further addition of punishment for the addition of sin; you have so exhausted all, and have drained every kind of blow, constantly provoking some newer one through your own wickedness. There is no wound, nor bruise, nor festering plague; the wound is whole-bodied, he says, and indeed incurable. For there is no dressing to apply, nor oil, nor bandages. And I pass over the things that follow in the threat, lest I become more grievous to you than the present plague. ^D

^A XVII. But let us recognize the cause of this calamity. Why have the crops withered, the granaries become confounded, the pastures of the flocks failed, the beautiful things of the earth wasted away? Why are the fields drenched not in richness but in mourning? Why have the valleys not abounded in grain, but been left to lamentation? Why have the mountains not distilled sweetness for us—as they did later for the righteous—but been stripped of their adornment and brought to ignominy, receiving the curse of Mount Gelboe in reverse? The whole earth has become as it was from the beginning, before it was adorned with its own beauties. Thou hast visited the earth and watered it (Ps. LXIV, 10), but with a calamitous visitation and a pestilential intoxication. Woe to the sight! Our fertility is in the stalk, and our sowing is recognized only by its small remnants, and our harvest scarcely yields first-fruits to the Lord, being measured by months rather than by sheaves. Such are the riches of the ungodly, such are the crops of those who sow poorly: it is, by the ancient curse (Agg. I, 9), to look for much and bring in little; to sow and not reap; to plant and not press out; to have ten teams of oxen toil (Isa. V, 10) only to produce one flagon; to hear of the fruitfulness of others while being ourselves pressed by lack. Whence are these things, and what is the cause of this fracture? Let us not wait to be reproved by others; let us become examiners of ourselves. Great is the medicine for vice: confession and the flight from sin. I myself, first, just as I previously announced to my people, have performed the duty of a watchman (Ezech. XXXIII, 3). For I did not hide the coming sword, that I might save both my own soul and the souls of those who hear. Thus, now also, I will set forth the disobedience of my people, taking their sins as my own. For so, perhaps, it shall be that I might obtain some mercy and alleviation of the distress.

^D XVIII. One of us has oppressed the poor and snatched away a portion of his land, and has wickedly transgressed the boundary (II Reg. I, 21), either by stealing or by playing the tyrant, and has joined house to house, and field to field, that he might take something away from his neighbor; and he has competed to have no neighbor at all, as if he were to dwell alone upon the earth. Another has defiled the earth with usury and loans, gathering where he has not sown and reaping where he has not scattered, preparing his own comforts not from the cultivation of the earth, but from the poverty and need of the needy. Another has defrauded God—who gave all things—of the first-fruits of the threshing floor and the winepress, and has become at once both ungrateful and senseless; neither giving thanks for what he had, nor [thinking of] the future...

nor, if nothing else, providing for his own soul through an office of a righteous and grateful spirit.

Another has shown no mercy toward a widow or an orphan, nor has he shared bread or a little food with the needy—or rather, with Christ, who is fed through those who are fed even with little. He, perhaps, possesses much, and beyond what he expected—for this is the greatest injustice—and is cramped for space in his many barns, filling some and tearing down others in order to build larger ones for his future crops, unaware that he will be snatched away by death before he attains his hope, and that he will have to render an account both of the riches in which he has abounded here and of those things he fashioned in his mind and thought, as one who has badly managed goods that belonged to another.

Another has turned aside from the way of the humble, and has perverted the just cause of the righteous ^B by unjust arguments. Another has hated the one who reproves in the gates, and has abominated holy speech. Another has sacrificed to his own net, which gathers much, and keeping the plunder of the poor in his houses, he either has not remembered God or has remembered Him amiss, saying, "Blessed be the Lord, for we have become rich," and has suspected iniquity, as if he possessed those riches by His favor, from whom he shall be punished. For because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience; because of these things, either the heaven is shut up or it is opened to our hurt—and all the more so if, even when struck, we do not repent and draw near to Him who is by nature close at hand.

XIX. What shall we say to these things, we who buy and sell grain, and watch for the difficulties of the times so that we may grow wealthy and take pleasure in the calamities of others? ^C And we do not act like Joseph [with] the resources of the Egyptians for the sake of a greater dispensation (for he knew how to gather correctly, and correctly distribute the grain, just as he also knew how to foresee the famine and stand against it from afar), but as wicked and criminal men [we seek] the wealth of our fellow countrymen. We who say, "When will the month be over, that we may sell? And the Sabbaths, that we may open our granaries?" We who corrupt justice with double measures and scales, and lean the leaden measure of iniquity against ourselves?

What shall we say to these things, we who know no end to the increasing of wealth; who worship gold and silver, just as those of old worshiped Baal and Astarte, and that detestable Chemosh; who pursue the luxuries and splendors ^D of stones, and soft and flowing clothing—the prey of moths and robbers,

and of tyrants; who ^A vaunt themselves in the multitude of their slaves and cattle; who spread themselves out in the plains and on the mountains, having some possessions, acquiring others, and expecting still more, unable to be filled, after the manner of the Solomonic leech, just as is also the case with Hades, and the earth, and fire, and water; who seek another world to possess, and find fault with the boundaries of God as being too small for their own desire and insatiability? What then of those, too, who sit on high thrones and raise up the stage of power and their eyebrows higher than the theaters themselves, neither considering God, who is over all, nor that inaccessible height of the true kingdom, in order that they might rule over their subjects as fellow-servants—they who are in need of the selfsame philanthropy? Consider also with me those who indulge in luxury upon beds of ivory, whom the divine Amos rightly rebukes, and who anoint themselves with the finest ^B perfumes, and who applaud at the sound of musical instruments, and are attached to fleeing things as if they were firm and stable—yet do not feel pain or grief at the affliction of Joseph. For it was meet that they, seeing those who had fallen into calamity before them, should have embraced them with kindness and won for themselves mercy through mercy; it was meet, I say, for the fir tree to wail because the cedar has fallen, and to be instructed by the plague of their neighbors, and through this very thing to be in a better state; to be such as might have attained salvation through those others, rather than having others instructed through their own example.

XX. ^C Philosophize with us on these things, O divine and holy head, you who have gathered great experience in the long passage of time, from which wisdom is born. With these things, instruct your people. Teach them to break bread for the hungry, and to gather together the poor who are homeless, and to cover nakedness, nor to overlook their own kin; and now especially this, that our good deed should come from our penury, not from our surplus: with which gift God is better pleased than with many offerings and great bounties. In addition to these things, and before these things, be for me a Moses or a Phinehas today. Stand for us, and make atonement, and let the breaking cease, whether through spiritual sacrifice or through prayer and rational intercession. Restrain the anger of the Lord by your intervention; check the strokes that follow thereafter. ^D He is accustomed to be moved by the gray hair of a father pleading for his children. Pray for the past wickedness; promise us better things for the future. Offer your people

and purged by the calamity and fear. Seek your bodily sustenance; but seek first that angelic food descending from heaven. If you do this, you will reconcile God to us, you will appease heaven, and you will restore the early and the latter rain. The Lord will give his bounty, and our earth will yield her fruit: this, I say, the lower [earth], yields the daily [fruit], but our earth of flesh [yields] the eternal [fruit], which we shall store away in the divine granaries through you, who offer up both us and our gifts in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory for ever. Amen.

ADMONITION TO ORATION XVII

I. This oration was delivered at Nazianzus, toward the end of the year 373. We attest to this fact by the same reasoning used in the preceding admonition. The elder Gregory was still living, and our Theologian had already been consecrated by episcopal anointing. The orator divides this oration into two parts, as it were. The first part is directed to the Nazianzenes, the second to the magistrates. However, what exactly the fault of the Nazianzenes was is not sufficiently declared in this oration. Billius conjectures that the Nazianzenes, offended by some edict or by the gravity of tributes and taxes, had shown certain signs of a disposition toward sedition. But it is probable that the crime of the Nazianzenes was not so grave; otherwise, Gregory would have held a much harsher oration against them had they not merely conceived it in their minds, but had also excited a sedition in reality. For in this oration, the orator does not chide the Nazianzenes at all, but rather gently consoles them and recalls them to patience. He also exhorts them to be mindful of God, if they wish to obtain consolation and delight in their misfortunes; and not to forget that men are often "instructed by God through contrary things," and therefore that they must be subjected to God with equal zeal and will, whether He confers benefits or chastises, and not to God alone, but also to those who wield authority on earth. Many other things of this kind, and worthy to be read, does the Theologian preach to the Nazianzene people.

II. In the second part, he addresses the magistrates, and especially the prefect; not indeed Julian, the mere assessor of taxes, as Nicetas assumes, but another, the procurator or prefect of the whole province, inasmuch as he "had received the sword from God." Gregory approaches him in every way, that he might calm and soothe his angry spirit. "You too," he says, "the law of Christ subjects to my authority and throne. For we too wield an authority, I would add, even one more excellent and perfect... nor do I doubt (addressing the prefect) but that you will take this freedom of speech in good part, as being a sacred sheep of my sacred flock.... You have received the sword from Christ, not so much that you might use it, as that you might threaten and terrify. You are an image of God, you rule also over the image of God.... Let the kinship of nature move you," etc. By these and many other such admonitions, Gregory tries to recall the prefect to clemency and gentleness. Then, adding to these the hoary head of his father, the reverence due to the clergy, and indeed the very dispensation of Christ in the flesh, and the sacred table, he urges the man with wonderful art, that he might mingle lenity with terror, that he might temper threats with hope, and that finally nothing, "neither time," nor "prince," nor "hope of greater dignities" might withhold or turn him away from mercy and kindness.

ORATION XVII

I. My belly, my belly, I am in pain, and the senses of

my heart are troubled, says Jeremiah ^A in some place of his discourses, he who is the most sympathetic of the prophets, while he deplores Israel for being disobedient and alienated from the philanthropy of God, naming his own soul "belly," according to the laws of allegory. For I find this word used in many places in Scripture, either because it is hidden and invisible (for the same thing is true of the soul as of the belly: that they are hidden), or as being capable of receiving and distributing, if I may so speak, the food of the word; for what food is in the body, this is the word in the soul. By "senses," perhaps he understands the movements and thoughts of the soul, and especially those which arise from the senses, by which the just man is torn, and grows heated, and is driven by impulse, and cannot be restrained because of the heat of the Spirit; for this is what it means to be "troubled," as it were a readiness mingled with wrath. If someone should also take these for the bodily senses ^B, he will not miss the mark; for both eyes and ears are not only distressed by sad sights and sounds, but also desire both to see and to hear better things because of their compassion. But however these may be understood, the just man grieves and is troubled, and bears the sufferings of Israel, in whatever way you wish to understand them, not moderately; whether one considers the bodily ones, and him who is seen bodily, or the spiritual ones, and him who is understood ^C spiritually. Since the same prophet also demands a fountain of tears, and desires an extremity of rest, and welcomes a desert place, so that he may empty out the abundance of his grief, and be lightened somewhat of the inner wound, having bewailed Israel in quiet.

II. The same thing is also [done] by the divine David, who, a little before, being troubled at his own difficulties, says: "Who will give me wings like a dove, and I will fly away, and be at rest?" He seeks the wings of a dove, either as being lighter and swifter—for such is everyone who pursues justice—or as those that shadow forth the Spirit, by whose aid alone we flee from dangers, so that he may remove himself as far as possible from present evils. Then follows the medicine in tight situations, which is hope: "I waited," he says, "for God, who saves me from faint-heartedness and from the tempest." Which is also what he is seen to do elsewhere, most quickly applying the remedy to the grieving person, and providing us with a good lesson both by word and deed of magnanimity in the face of grave and dangerous matters. "My soul," ^D he says, "refused to be comforted." You see the soul’s...

^A expressions of distress and despair? Did you not fear, as if David were suffering from an incurable disease? What are you saying? Do you not accept comfort? Do you despair of solace? Will no one heal you? Not a word, not a friend, not a relative, not an advisor, not one to share in your pain, not one to explain his own misfortunes, not one to recount what happened long ago, nor to compare current events with those of the past, and to show how many people have been saved even from worse evils? Is everything cast away? Is it gone? Is it cut off? Has all hope perished? Must one only lie prostrate, awaiting the end? These are the words of the great David, who normally expands in his tribulations; who, even when surrounded by the shadow of death, rises up against it, supported by the help of God. What, then, am I to do, I who am small, weak, earthly, and not possessed of such spiritual capacity? David is dizzy, and who then can be saved? What help could I find while suffering, or what comfort? To whom should I flee when constrained? The great healer ^B David answers you, he who even charms away evil spirits through the Spirit dwelling in him. Would you like to learn from me to whom you should flee, though you do not know it yourself? Who is it that strengthens the relaxed hands and confirms the weakened knees, leads through fire, and brings salvation through water? There is no need, he says, for a battle line, for arms, for archers, for cavalry, for consultants, for friends, or for outside aid. You have within yourself the alliance that I have, and everyone who wishes. One must only desire, only make the effort. The consolation is near; it is in your mouth and in your heart: "I remembered God," he says, "and I rejoiced." What is more readily available than memory? Remember, you too, and rejoice. O, the ease of the cure! O, the speed of the healing! O, the greatness of the gift! The remembrance ^C of God not only calms, once remembered, the faint-heartedness and grief, but it also produces joy.

III. Do you wish me to bring forward other testimonies of the divine benevolence toward the human race? "If," he says, "you turn and groan to the Lord, then you shall be saved." Do you see how salvation is joined to groaning? And while you are still speaking, He will say: "Behold, I am here." And He will speak to your soul: "I am your salvation." Nothing comes between the petition and the attainment; not gold, not silver, not transparent and precious stones, not the other things by which the minds of men are bent toward gentleness and mercy. After Sophonias said, as if it were God, angry and ^D embittered, "I will desolate their paths so that they..."

there is none who enters; their cities have failed, because no one remains, nor is there any to inhabit them"; after He threatened the most terrifying things, after He cast down hearts with despondency, and cast the darkness of threats, He immediately brings in the light of a better hope, and restores me with these words: "Nevertheless I said: Fear me, and receive instruction, and you shall not be destroyed from before His eyes." ^B And proceeding a little further with more cheerful and human words, He says: "In that time the Lord will say: Be of good courage, Sion, let not your hands grow slack. The Lord your God is in you, He is powerful to save you, and He will bring joy upon you, and He will renew you by His love, and He will gather the contrite, and save the oppressed, and will receive the outcasts." These things the holy men and these reasons intend, and my discourse requires. But you, receive the words of wisdom, as the divine Solomon says, so that having fallen into the deep of evils, you may not despise, nor be swallowed up by your own ignorance rather than by the trouble and difficulty in which you currently find yourselves.

IV.

nor the present time, nor the future, nor things our own, nor others', nor the small, nor the greater, nor in short, anything that one might say. And inequality has this one equal quality, namely, change in all things. For all things are easily carried around, and migrate, and are mutually opposed, so that one might sooner trust in winds or in letters written upon the water than in the prosperity of men. And envy checks prosperity, while mercy checks calamity; and this, in my judgment, is done wisely and admirably, so that neither should adversity be without consolation, nor prosperity without a bridle and discipline.

V. They act prudently who are educated by calamities, and as they are purified by them like gold in the fire, ^B they have that saying of David in their mouths: *It is good for me that you have humbled me, that I may learn your statutes* (Ps. CXVIII, 71). This is because this circumstance brings forth the knowledge of the statutes of God; and they imitate Peter, imploring the Savior’s help when he was already nearly sinking (Matt. XIV, 30); and, finally, they attach themselves all the more to God on account of their pain, and gain for themselves the author of all benefits through affliction. Since a soul that suffers is near to God, and the need itself causes us to turn to Him who has the power of bestowing, who might otherwise perhaps be despised on account of the abundance of his generosity. Therefore, brethren, let us keep our eyes lifted to heaven, and in every time and in every adverse turn of events ^C let us prefer good hope, and let us not cast away fear in prosperous times, nor hope in painful ones. Let us be mindful of the storm while we are in the calm, and of the helmsman while we are in the storm; and let us not be broken in spirit and weakened by afflictions, nor imitate the wicked servants who indeed confess the Lord when he benefits them, but by no means attach themselves to the same Lord with equal zeal and willingness when he chastens them—even though it sometimes happens that pain is better and more preferable than health, patience than relaxation, visitation than neglect, and chastisement than indulgence. And to state the matter briefly, let us so discipline ourselves that we neither collapse because of calamities, nor be carried away by insolence because of satiety.

VI. Let us submit ourselves to God, ^D and to one another, and to those who hold power on earth: to God for all causes; to one another for the sake of brotherly love; and to those in power for the sake of good order; and

that all the more, the more gentle and kind they are ^A. It is a terrible thing to exhaust the clemency of continuous forgiveness, lest we ourselves be required to pay the penalty for their harshness, having dissolved the serenity of the Spirit, having brought darkness into the light, and having mixed wormwood with honey. This too is one of our laws, and this also is among those praised and most beautifully ordained by the Spirit, who, having tested the possible along with the good, has legislated: just as slaves are to obey their masters, and wives their husbands, and the Church the Lord, and disciples their shepherds and teachers, so also are they to be subject to all superior authorities, not only because of wrath, but also for the sake of conscience, as those who are liable to pay tribute; and not to hate the law because they are evildoers, nor to await the sword, but to be praised by the authority by being purified through fear ^B.

VII. One and the same is the rule; yet it spares the straight, but cuts away the superfluous. There is one sun; yet it illuminates the healthy eye, but darkens the weak one. Do you wish me to state something from our own doctrine with boldness? There is one Christ; yet he is set for the fall and the resurrection of many; for the fall of the unbelieving, but for the resurrection of those who believe. And to some he is a stone of stumbling and a rock of offense, as many as have not known nor understood, but walk in darkness, whether they worship idols or only look as far as the letter, and neither wish ^C nor are able to be enlightened beyond this. But to others he is a cornerstone and a praised rock, as many as are bound together by the Word and have stood upon him; or if you prefer, that pearl which the good merchant buys with all that he has. We, brothers, suffer something of this kind, not setting our own lives to rights, but being indignant toward authority. It is just as if one were to accuse the judge of the contest as being wicked, while he himself breaks the laws of the wrestling-ground; or as if one were to accuse the doctor of being unlearned and bold, because he uses incisions ^D and cautery, while he himself is in an evil condition and has need of more severe remedies. Let these things be said by me to those who are under my care, at once for the sake of admonition and consolation; by me, I say, a poor shepherd, who poorly order and instruct this little flock, with whom I am commanded by the prescription of my pastoral law to rejoice when it rejoices and to groan when it mourns.

^A III. But what of you, princes and prefects? For our discourse now turns to you, so that we may not seem to be acting altogether unjustly, by urging those others to fulfill their duty while yielding to your dignity and power—as if, out of shame or fear, we dared not speak freely, as becomes a Christian; or as if we were to take thought for their interests while neglecting yours, whose care it is fitting to hold in even greater regard, in that the matter has greater weight in either direction, and a greater utility arises from it if the business should succeed prosperously. For let the contrary be far from us and from our discourse. What, therefore, do you say? Or what agreement is there between us? Will you bear with me speaking freely with an equal mind? For the law of Christ subjects you also to my authority and to my throne. For we too exercise rule; and I will add, a more excellent and perfect rule: unless indeed it is fair that the spirit should yield to the flesh, and heavenly things to earthly. You will take this freedom of speech in good part, I know, as being a sacred sheep of my sacred flock, and a darling of the great Shepherd, and one rightly guided and instructed from above by the Spirit, and illuminated by the light of the holy and blessed Trinity, just as we ourselves are. Therefore, my discourse to you will be short and concise.

^C IX. You exercise authority with Christ, and with Christ you administer this office. From Him you have received the sword, not so much that you might use it, but that you might threaten and strike fear; wherefore you must see to it that you preserve it, as a kind of pure and untarnished gift, for Him who gave it. You are an image of God; yet you also rule over the image of God; which here is governed by a certain dispensation, but migrates to another life, to which we all shall likewise depart, after we have played for a while in this prison, or stadium, or fore-design, or shadow of life. Let the kinship of nature move you; let your exemplar stir you; attach yourself to God, not to the prince of this world; to the kind Lord, not to the bitter tyrant. *He was a murderer from the beginning.* He both inflicted a wound upon the first man through the transgression of the commandment, and brought in a life of misery, and introduced through sin the law of both inflicting and undergoing punishment. But you, O man of God, let it come into your mind who formed you, to what you are called, how many and how great are the things you possess, by how many names you are bound, from whom you have received reason, the law, and the prophets, and this very thing—that you know God, and that you do not despair of the good things set before you in expectation. Therefore, ^D imitate the philanthropy of God on account of these things. This is what is most divine in a human being: to do good. It is possible for you to become God by doing nothing evil; do not let the time of deification slip away.

^A X. Some pour out their wealth, others surrender their exhausted flesh to the Spirit, and are dead unto Christ and depart from the world entirely. Others consecrate their most cherished possessions to God. Surely, you have heard of the sacrifice of Abraham, who more readily offered up his only-begotten son, the child of promise, and the one to whom the promise itself referred, to God than he had first received him from Him. We demand none of these things from you: for all of them, offer this one thing, namely, kindness, in which God delights more than in all other things combined; a gift uniquely your own, a gift free from all stain, a gift that invites the liberality and munificence of God. Temper your severity with lenity; soften your threats with hope. I know that many things are accomplished by kindness and goodness, so that it compels one to render proper gratitude through the very sense of shame it induces; for when we forgive the offenses of those over whom we have the power to take vengeance and punish, we strike a sense of shame into the one to whom we show mercy by our benevolence. Let nothing be of such value to you that you would, for its sake, admit into your mind anything that would render you unworthy of your office. Let nothing shut out mercy and gentleness: not the occasion, not a ruler, not fear, not the hope of higher dignities, not ^B arrogance possessing a greater influence. Acquire benevolence in necessary times, and leverage this mercy upward to God. No one has ever regretted having offered something to God. He is generous in His recompense, for the most part repaying with heavenly goods those who have first contributed something to Him and lent it as a loan; sometimes, however, He also refunds the comforts of this life, that He might provide assurance for the future.

^C XI. Yet a little while, and the world passes away, and this tabernacle is dissolved. Let us make good use of the time; let us exchange things transient and fragile for things eternal. Each of us is under correction, and this clay vessel carries with it a great debt. Let us forgive, that we may be forgiven; let us release, that we may ask for release. You see in the Gospel how a certain debtor of many talents is brought forward and is released from his debt; for he had approached a good and gentle master. And he is forgiven, yet he himself does not forgive; for he was a slave even in his disposition. The kindness which he had received regarding a greater sum, he does not share with his fellow servant regarding a lesser one, nor—if not to anyone else—does he follow the example of magnanimity regarding another's affair; and the master is indignant. And the rest I shall pass over in silence; but it is better for everyone,

that before we render an account of our lives in the next world, we employ the kindness of this life.

^B XII. What do you say? Do we hold you by these discourses, of which you have often confessed yourself to be a lover, most excellent of prefects, and—would that I might add—most clement? Or must this hoary head of mine also be offered to you in place of a formal petition, as well as the number of my years, and this long-standing and spotless priesthood, which perhaps even the angels themselves—those pure and most pure worshippers of God—revere, as not being unworthy of their own worship? Do these things persuade you? Or shall I dare something greater? Yet it is my pain that makes me bold. I offer you Christ; the emptying of Christ for our sake, and the passions of the Impassible, and the cross, and the nails by which I was loosed from sin; and the blood, and the burial, and the resurrection ^C and the ascension, and even this table to which we come in common; and the types of my salvation, which I celebrate with the same mouth with which I perform this intercession to you—this, I say, divinely holy mystery that raises us up to heaven.

XIII. But if not for one of these things, then at least for the sake of all, grant this favor, both to us and to yourself, and to your domestic Church, and to this beautiful assembly of Christ—concerning which I would have you consider that, even though it yields to us in the office of performing the embassy, it acts as a suppliant with us, as being about to have greater authority in your eyes on account of the dignity of the priesthood with which we have been ^D adorned by God; not to speak of that which is forbidden by the law of the empire. In this one thing, may you be beautifully defeated; overcome us with kindness. Behold, before God, and the angels, and the kingdom of heaven, and the rewards of that life, I offer you my suppliants. Honor my faith, which was entrusted to me and which I have entrusted to others; so it shall come to pass, that your own faith will also be honored in greater and more perfect things.

And, to sum up the matter in one word, you too have a Lord in heaven. May it be your lot to experience Him as a judge who is toward you such as you yourself are to those who are under your authority. May we all, moreover, encounter both the kindnesses of this life and those which are more tolerable in the life to come, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory and power, to whom be honor and kingship, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, as it was, and was before, and shall be, and is now, and unto ages of ages. Amen.

ADMONITION REGARDING ORATION XVIII

I. "In this oration," states Billius, "he first addresses Basil the Great, and provides him with what is, as it were, the subject matter of the oration. Then, beginning the history of his father’s life, he shows how, having cast off a portentous and impious superstition, he embraced the Christian faith, and he adorns this narrative in wonderful ways, while at the same time, seizing the opportunity, he adds the praise of his mother. Then, returning to the design of the oration, he recounts certain miracles which had occurred at his baptism. From there he moves on to his episcopate, where he pursues his various praises, and amplifies his piety and the constancy of his faith by way of comparison, and clears him in passing because he had—perhaps imprudently—subscribed to a certain false and sacrilegious heretical dogma. Soon after, he praises his liberality and kindness in embracing the poor, and his contempt for human glory; and, having enumerated certain virtues to form a collection, he returns to the praise of humility, and handles it elegantly. To this he adds the facility for forgiving injuries, and the forgetting of wrongs, and an extraordinary humanity joined with a marvelous dexterity in the management of affairs. Finally, he explains how God honored him with a double miracle, namely, that divine vengeance immediately followed those by whom he had been offended, and that he himself, having been despaired of by the physicians, was, beyond all hope, restored by God to his former health; and because human holiness is clearly declared by these events, he adds how his mother, laboring under a most grave and atrocious illness, suddenly received health; and furthermore, in what manner he himself, tossed by a dangerous storm, escaped—by his parents' prayers—the most certain peril of death. Hence he betakes himself to the praise of fortitude and constancy. Having demonstrated this by many examples, he puts an end to the encomium of his father, and, turning the oration to his mother, now worn out by old age, he consoles her most elegantly and learnedly."

II. This oration was delivered in Nazianzus, approximately in the middle of the year 374. For, according to the learned, Gregory the Elder had died in the month of March or April of this year. This can also be proven by certain monuments. For first, it is certain that Gregory the father was already dead when Amphilochius was assumed to the see of Iconium. For at the time when he was ordained bishop of Iconium, our own Gregory was occupied in mourning for the death of his parent, as he himself writes to Amphilochius the father: "Does your son," he says, "cast you into grief, because for his virtue he is seized and honored? But does it not torture me, my father, that he has entered upon the final journey from us, from which he will no longer return to us, nor be seen by us?" Furthermore, Faustinus, whom Amphilochius succeeded, had died in the year 373. For Basil, writing to Eusebius, bishop of Samosata, says: "Iconium is a city of Pisidia... It invites us that we might visit it, so that we might give it a bishop. For Faustinus is dead." The learned agree that this letter was written in the year 373. Whether Amphilochius succeeded Faustinus immediately, or whether a certain heretic, who died or was expelled shortly thereafter, stood between Faustinus and Amphilochius, as some suppose, is not sufficiently clear. Whatever the case may be, it is certain that Amphilochius undertook the administration of the Church of Iconium in the year 374. For Basil consoles him, having been ordained bishop, in a letter given in that same year with these words: "Blessed is God, who in every age chooses those who are pleasing to Himself, and separates the vessels of election, and uses them for the ministry of the saints: who now, even when you were fleeing, as you yourself have said, has ensnared you—not us, but the vocation which you suspected would come through us—with the inevitable nets of grace, and has led you into the midst of Pisidia, so that you might catch men for God," etc. Since, therefore, the times of the ordination of Amphilochius and the death of Gregory the Elder coincide

and Basil was present at the ordination—or if not, he was certainly present at the funeral—it is not inaccurately conjectured that the death and funeral of Gregory the Father can be placed after the winter of the year 374. Nor should we be moved by what is read in the Menaea (p. 19), namely, that the memory of Gregory the Father is celebrated on the Kalends of January as the day he rested in peace. That kind of argument is utterly weak, and is sufficiently refuted by the facts already stated.

III. ^A It remains for us to clarify one or two of the more difficult points of this oration, which cannot be solved within the limits of short notes. First, let us say something about the Hypsistarians, in whose error Gregory the Elder was involved before he gave his name to Christ. Mention of the Hypsistarians is rare among the ancients. According to Suicer, nothing is found in Epiphanius, Augustine, Theodoret, Damascenus, and others who wrote about heresies in former times. Besides our Gregory and Nyssen, Hesychius and Suidas mention them. But these authors bring forward nothing beyond the reason for the name, suggesting that the Hypsistarians were so called because they worshipped and invoked the "Highest" or "Supreme" God. Nyssen, however, has only one thing to say (68): that they indeed "confessed that there is a God, whom they called the Highest or Almighty, but did not admit that He was the Father." ^B If, however, we listen to the Theologian, the error of the Hypsistarians was composed of two most opposite things, derived partly from Gentile error and partly from legal vanity. For the Hypsistarians, while rejecting idols and sacrifices, nevertheless worshipped "fire" and "lamps" along with the Gentiles; yet, while spurning "circumcision," they observed the "Sabbath" and a certain abstinence from some foods, along with the Jews. Whence these wretched and contemptible men gave themselves the name of Hypsistarians, because they alone acknowledged and worshipped the "Supreme" or "Highest." Epiphanius, although he makes no mention of the Hypsistarians, as we have already seen, tells a story of Euphemites, or Massalians, that is almost similar. For he says (69) that "they were born of Gentiles, and attend neither to Judaism nor Christianity; they say that there are gods, yet they worship none, but revere one alone, and call Him the Almighty." He also adds, "they have assemblies with the light of lamps" (which he calls *lychnias*). ^C These things do not differ much from what the ancients wrote about the Hypsistarians.

IV. A second difficulty regarding these same Hypsistarians occurs. It seems strange to Clericus (70) that our Gregory, when in this oration he denies that the Hypsistarians "worshipped idols" and says that his father Gregory was "born into their heresy," confesses in the first poem that "he was subject to the images of animals." Clericus thinks this is a contradiction. A fine master of critical art, indeed! To whom only one way of solving the knot occurs: namely, that our Gregory "spoke contrary things either through a lapse of memory or the impulse of too fervent zeal; unless perhaps, in what he said about the idols of animals, he ought to be excused for using hyperbole, as is his custom." Who does not get angry hearing these things? Or what faith is to be placed in a malevolent or ignorant interpreter? That audacious censor, who seems so skilled to himself, and who generally judges Gregory and other most learned and holy writers as rashly as he does arrogantly, has by no means grasped Gregory's mind here. For these are the words of the Theologian, ^D Poem 1, verse 125:

Ἀὐτὰρ ὄγ' ἀγριέλαιος, ὑπ᾽ εἰδώλοις πάρος ἦν Ζώων, etc. But he indeed (the father) was an olive tree, that lived Before, under the images, etc.

There is nothing said in this context about the idols of animals. A false interpretation of the word *zōōn* led Clericus into error, while he thinks he sees "idols of animals" where the Theologian, with no mention of animals made, presented his father as one who "lived under images." For the word *zōōn* is not, as grammarians say, the genitive plural of the noun *zōon*, "animal"; but the present participle of the verb *zōō* (poetically for *zaō*), "I live." We very often find that word, enjoying only the meaning of "living," used by Homer, Hesiod, Herodotus, and others. Truly, it is a mystery that this was ignored by Clericus, or rather, concealed. Furthermore, using this word "idols" or "images," Gregory did not on that account mean to signify the images of gods or animals; but only those things in general which are characteristic of superstitious heathenism, which the worshippers of the true God utterly reject—such as the elements of "fire and lamps," which the Hypsistarians religiously worshipped. Since, therefore, Gregory the Father worshipped these elements with a superstitious, even if not supreme, cult, the Theologian could say that his father lived "under idols" or "under images," that is, "under sensible elements." In which sense also must be understood what the presbyter Gregory writes in the *Life of the Theologian* (71): "Gregory's father, he says, having abandoned idols, migrated to the cult of piety; and, having shaken off the superstition of the Hypsistarians, shone forth as a sincere disciple of divine grace." The Theologian, therefore, while he discoursed concerning his Hypsistarian father, did not suffer a lapse of memory, nor was he carried away by excessive zeal, nor did he use hyperbole, from which Clericus seems to think an excuse for him can be derived.

V. From the text of this oration, another difficulty also arises: namely, whether Gregory the Father practiced "private worship" in his own "chamber," as some maintain. The matter is thus...

[MONITUM IN ORATIONEM XVIII]

The Theologian relates (n. 29): "The hour of the mystery had arrived... when he (Gregory the elder) was aroused by Him who calls the dead to life. At first he moved a little, then more firmly, and soon with a very faint and indistinct voice he ordered his servant... to offer him his vestment and to place his hand beneath him. When he appeared not without astonishment, and complied promptly, he himself, led by his hand as if by a staff, imitated that Moses praying on the mountain; and, with his hands joined for prayer ^A while broken and weakened, he celebrated with a ready spirit the mysteries for the people, or rather pre-celebrated them, with few words, and such as he could, but with a mind, as it seems to me, entirely perfect. A wondrous thing! Without a sanctuary, in a sanctuary; without an altar, a sacrificer; a priest removed from the mysteries... Afterwards, when he had spoken the words of thanksgiving, as custom requires, and had blessed the people, he cast himself back upon his bed." From this context, certain learned men, among whom is the most learned and pious Cardinal Bona (72), misled by the word "mystery," have supposed that Gregory the elder rose from his bed and performed a private sacrifice in his chamber. But if we seriously weigh the words of the Theologian, we shall discern that this was not a true and real sacrifice, but merely a mystical one, conceived in the mind by Gregory's act. "For, as Elias (73) says, 'They formerly called ^B the festivals mysteries, because of those things which were mystically performed in them': and I believe that in this place he (the Theologian) understands by 'mystery' the very time of the sacred gathering in which priests also celebrate mystical prayers. To this opinion, those things which follow also incline... Therefore, he indeed celebrates the mysteries for the people, being present in spirit with those who were celebrating these things at the altar, even if he was absent in body, by reason of bodily infirmity; but he 'pre-celebrates' them, by completing them in some measure and briefly before." In the same way interpret Basil, Billius, Tillemontius, etc. Therefore, Gregory the elder did not perform a "private sacrifice in his chamber," since those things required for a true sacrifice were absent therefrom—namely, the ornaments, the altar, the bread, and the chalice to be consecrated. For from the Theologian's context it follows only that Gregory the elder, lying ill on the solemn day of Pascha, rose from his bed and, in his room, with his hands composed for prayer, "recited liturgical prayers, with few words, and such as he could; and consequently, by word only, if I may so speak, he offered, gave thanks, blessed, etc. Which things being done, he cast himself back into his bed." ^C

ORATION XVIII. FUNERAL ORATION ON HIS FATHER

^A I. O man of God, faithful servant, and dispenser of the mysteries of God, and man of the desires of the Spirit—for by this name Scripture calls those who have advanced and are exalted, and superior to the things which are seen. I call you, too, the god of Pharaoh—that is, of all Egyptian and opposing power—and a pillar and foundation of the Church, and the will of the Lord, and a luminary in the world holding the word of life, and a support of faith, and an abode of the Spirit. But why should I enumerate all those titles which your virtue has begotten for you, one bringing and offering one thing, another another?

II. But tell me, I pray, whence do you come? And what is your work? And with what aim have you come to us? Since I have known you to be moved in all things with God and by God, for the benefit of those who receive you. Have you come to visit us? Or to seek your shepherd? Or to inspect your flock? ^B We are no longer present, but...

^A in the greatest part have already departed with him; and we are distressed by the place of our affliction. And now, more than ever, when we have lost that learned helmsman, or rather that lantern of our life, to whom we used to look as we were directed, and who beamed the light of salvation upon us from above; when he, having finished his journey along with all that is good, and having gathered within himself all the order of the pastoral office over a long period, is full of days and at the same time of prudence, and crowned with the old age of boasting, if one must use the words of Solomon. Or see the flock, perplexed and ^B cast down, and full of such despondency and gloom; no longer resting in a place of pasture, nor fed by waters of refreshment, but seeking out crags, and deserts, and chasms, in which it will be scattered and perish; mistrusting that it will ever again attain another prudent shepherd—convinced indeed that it will not attain one of such quality, and yet loving one, even if he be not much inferior.

III. Now since these three things, as I said, have brought upon you the necessity of coming here—namely, us, the flock, and the shepherd—come, according to the spirit of healing with which you are endowed, apply to each the remedy that is fitting, and arrange your discourse with judgment, so that we may admire you all the more for your wisdom. But how will you arrange it? As for the shepherd, if you praise him for his virtue, as is fitting, do not do so merely to offer a pure discourse to one who is pure, like some funeral offering; but also propose to others the pattern of his life, as a form and admonition of piety. ^C As for us, if you discourse briefly on life and death, on the conjunction and disjunction of soul and body, and on the two worlds—the present one, which is unstable, and that which is intelligible and abiding—and if you persuade us to despise the former, which is deceptive, and disordered, and uneven, and (just as among the waves) is carried up and down and carries others with it; and to attach ourselves to the latter, which is fixed, and stable, and godlike, and always remains the same, and is free from all disturbance and confusion: then indeed, those who have departed before us will cause us less sorrow. Nay, they will even fill us with joy, if the discourse leads us away from here and sets us on high, and hides the present unpleasantness in the expectation of the future, and persuades us that we ourselves are also hastening to a good Lord, ^D and that the final dwelling is better than this sojourning. And as a calm harbor is to those who are sailing, so is the departure and transition to that place for those who are storm-tossed here; or as those who have brought a long journey to an end, compared with those who are traveling and laboring.

so that the condition of those who have already arrived at that lodging is more tolerable and better than those who are still traversing the winding and precipitous path of this life.

^B IV. How, then, will you console us? And how, the flock? First, if you promise your care and guidance—that is, that the care of that man under whose wings it is beautiful and glorious for all to rest, and for whose voice those who labor with thirst pant more than for the purest springs, will not be wanting to them. Second, if you persuade us that the good Shepherd, who laid down his life for the sheep, has not abandoned us even now; but rather that He is present, and shepherds, and leads, and knows His own, and is known by His own—not indeed presenting Himself to be seen in a bodily manner, but dwelling with us in a spiritual manner, and fighting for the flock against the wolves, and permitting no one, after the manner of robbers and by craft, to leap over the fold and with a strange voice to drag away and steal souls ^C rightly led in the truth. And I believe that He performs this now even more by His intercession than before by His teaching, inasmuch as He now draws nearer to God, having shaken off bodily shackles and having been delivered from the mire that clouds the mind, and, naked, meets with "naked" and most pure Mind, having attained to the dignity and confidence of the angelic order, if it is not bold to say so. ^D You yourself, because of that power of speech and spirit in which you abound, will determine and philosophize better than I could show you. But in order that this oration might not fall far below his worth through ignorance of his virtues, I will sketch and prefigure some brief parts of the eulogy from those things which I have known in the departed, and I will commit them to you, a painter skilled in such matters, to polish more accurately the beauty of his virtue and to deliver it to the ears and minds of all mortals.

V. He, therefore (to pass over his country, his family, the natural endowments of his body, external splendor, and other things on account of which men think highly of themselves, according to the laws of eulogies, and to begin from those things that are first and most proper to us), was a sprout from a root not worthy of praise, nor well-disposed toward piety (for I am not ashamed of the first, being confident in the last), nor planted in the house of God, but one very absurd and monstrous, compounded from two most contrary things—that is, from Gentile error and legal prodigy. Fleeing the parts of both of these, he was constituted from certain parts. For while some reject the idols and sacrifices, they honor...

fire and lamps; but as for their observance of the Sabbath and a certain abstinence from some foods, they disdain circumcision. And these humble and abject men attribute to themselves the name of Hypsistarians, and offer veneration only to the Almighty. In this way, being in a sense double-formed toward impiety, from what source did such a one emerge? I do not know whether I should praise more the grace that called him, or his own deliberate choice of mind. However it may be, he so purged the eye of his mind from the "lemes" ^A that rested upon it, and rushed toward the truth with such speed, that he endured for a time to be deprived of mother and property for the sake of the heavenly Father and the true inheritance, and bore this ignominy more equitably and easily than others bear the highest honors. I myself wonder less at this, although in other respects it is a matter worthy of no small admiration. Why so? Because this glory is common to him with many others, and it behoves all to be enclosed within the great net of God, and to be ensnared by the words of the fishermen, even if some are caught by the Gospel sooner, and others later. But what I most of all must wonder at in his case, this it is necessary to speak of.

VI. He, even before he had joined our flock, was ours. For his character adopted him to us. For just as many of our own are not with us, whom their life removes from the common body; so on the contrary, many from without look toward us, whosoever, that is, advance the faith by their character, and while lacking the name, hold the thing itself. In this number my father was also, a branch indeed alien, but in life and character leaning toward us. And he excelled in the praise of modesty to such a degree, that he was at once most amiable and most chaste, two things which do not easily coincide in one person. But what greater and more illustrious argument for justice can be brought forward, than that, though engaged in the great offices of the commonwealth, he did not increase his means by even a farthing, and this while he saw others laying, as it is usually said, the hands of Briareus upon public goods and swelling with evil gains? For so do I call riches unjustly collected. As for prudence, although these are not meager indications, the discourse as it proceeds will declare more. For these things, as I suppose, he brought back faith also, by way of ^B reward. And how this came to pass (for a matter of such importance ought not to be passed over in silence), we shall make clear.

VII. I have heard the divine Scripture saying: *Who shall find a valiant woman?* ^C And this gift is from God. ^D

^A Migne’s view is shared also by those outside the faith; for among them it is said: *Nothing better can befall a man than a good wife, nor, conversely, anything worse than a bad one.* Here it is impossible to say who was more fortunate in this regard. For I think that if anyone, from the ends of the earth and from the entire human race, had endeavored to arrange the most excellent marriage, he could not have found one better or more fitting. For in this case, the most excellent of men and women of such a kind came together that this marriage was a union of virtue no less than of bodies; and although they surpassed others, they could not prevail over one another on account of the balance and equal honor of their virtue.

^B VIII. And indeed she who was given to Adam as a helpmate (since it was not good for man to be alone) proved to be his adversary rather than his partner, and not a yoke-mate but an opponent; for she ensnared her husband through pleasure and alienated him from the tree of life by means of the tree of knowledge. In contrast, the woman granted to him by God’s favor was not only a helpmate (for that would be less cause for wonder), but became a leader, guiding him by deed and word toward the best things through herself. And while she judged it best that in all other matters she should be overcome by the law of marriage, she was not ashamed to present herself as his teacher in piety. It is worthy to admire her, but it is yet more worthy to admire him who willingly yielded. For she was one who, while other women vied and took pride in the elegance of their beauty—both natural and artificial—knowing only one beauty, that of the soul, and either preserving the divine image or cleansing it to the best of her ability, cast away all painted and artificial adornments as fit only for stage-actresses. She deemed the only true nobility to consist in piety, and in knowing whence we have come and whither we must eventually go. Furthermore, she considered the only safe and inviolable wealth to be that which is poured out upon God and the poor, and especially upon those of her own kin ^C who had withered; to these she believed that providing merely for their needs was not a remedy for their distress, but only a reminder of it; whereas to assist them more generously was the mark of true honor and the most perfect consolation. And having surpassed all others—both those who excel in worldly utility and those who excel in piety (for it is difficult to attain both)—by reaching the zenith in each and being the only one to bring both together, she thus augmented her household with her own diligence and forethought, following the standards and laws of Solomon regarding the valiant woman, ^D and being the sole one to reconcile the two.

For she increased her household affairs with such industry and skill, as if she knew nothing of piety, while on the other hand, she dedicated herself to God and divine matters as if she were entirely removed from the administration of household affairs. Neither was she hindered by either of these, so as to be unable to fulfill the other; but rather, she supported and strengthened each by the help of the other.

^A IX. What time of prayer, what place, ever escaped her? For there was nothing throughout the day to which she was not first impelled. Or rather, who ever had like hope that as soon as she asked for something, she would immediately obtain what she sought? What woman so feared the hand and countenance of priests, or honored every form of philosophy? Who more than she attenuated the flesh with fastings and vigils, or stood fixed like a pillar in daily and nightly psalmody? Who held virginity in greater admiration, even while upholding the bond of marriage? Who was a greater protection to orphans and widows? Who equally relieved the calamities of those who mourned? And these things, moreover—which are perhaps considered small, and by some are even despised, because they are not easily accessible to the majority (for it is common that what someone cannot attain, they deem not even credible, out of envy)—are nevertheless of great value to me, because they were the discoveries of faith and the efforts of spiritual fervor. Of this kind is the fact that her voice was never heard in sacred assemblies or places, if we except the necessary and ^B mystical ones.

X. But if it was of old a great and noble thing for an altar that no iron should ascend upon it, nor that a tool should be seen or heard, indicating thereby something more sublime—namely, that whatever is consecrated to God ought to be natural, simple, and devoid of artifice and pretense—why should it not also be a great praise for her that she honored holy things in silence; that she never turned her back upon the venerable table, nor spat upon the divine pavement; that she never joined her hand to the hands, nor her lips to the lips, of any pagan woman, however otherwise honorable and closely related? Nay, she did not even share common salt, not only willingly but not even when compelled, with those who came from a profane and impure table; nor did she ever endure, contrary to the law of her conscience, to pass by or even look upon an impure and sacrilegious house; nor did she suffer her ear and tongue, which were receiving and uttering divine things, to be contaminated by pagan narrations and theatrical songs (for nothing profane is suitable for holy things). And—what is more admirable still than these—she never gave so much to bodily grief, ^D although she was exceptionally moved by the sufferings of others, that she would ever, before

^A thanksgiving, allow a cry to break forth, or a tear to fall from an eyelid that had been mystically sealed, or a mournful guise to remain, even though many painful things often befell her, and even though a bright day might be present. For it belongs to a soul dear to God to bow all human things to divine things.

^B 337 XI. Now, I shall pass over in silence those things more secret than these, of which God is witness, and the faithful handmaids to whom she entrusted such matters. For that which concerns us is perhaps not even worthy of mention, inasmuch as we have not at all answered to her hope; although her effort directed toward us was great, in that she promised us to God even before our birth, fearing nothing of the future, and consecrated us immediately upon our being brought to light. But it was God’s benefit that she did not fail entirely in her prayer, nor was the holy offering repudiated.

Now, these things were in part already present, and in part were approaching, increasing little by little by quiet additions. And just as the sun, striking the eyes most sweetly with its morning rays, stands more fervent and splendid at midday; in the same way she, having brought to light no small tokens of piety from the beginning, shone forth more fully at the last light. At that time, therefore, the one who had settled her in his house possessed a no small stimulus of piety from the hearth, seeing that she had from of old, and from her ancestors, been endowed with the love of God and Christ, and had received the inheritance of virtue from her fathers. She had not, however, been grafted like him from a wild olive into a cultivated one, nor, because of an incredible magnitude of faith, did she bear to yoke herself with a man of a different religion; but, although she excelled all women in the praise of patience and fortitude in other respects, this one thing she could not bear with equanimity: that she should be joined to God only by half, on account of the aversion of the one who was her other part, and that the union of the spirit should not be added to the joining of their bodies. And for this reason, she would fall before God night and day, and pray for the salvation of her head with many fasts and tears; and she would press upon her husband diligently, and endeavor to win him over in various ways—by reproaches, by admonitions, by services, by disputes, and, what was of the greatest importance, by the probity of her own character and by her fervent zeal for piety, by which a soul is most of all bent and softened and willingly forced toward virtue. For the drop of water was destined to hollow out the rock by constantly striking it, and in time to accomplish what she strove for; and the things that follow clearly demonstrate this. ^{C D}

^A XII. She asked for these things and hoped for them, seeing as she was fervent in faith rather than in her youth. For no one was so confident in present things as she was in those things hoped for, having learned by experience of God’s generosity. Logic, indeed, also contributed to her salvation, gradually accepting the cure; but a vision in dreams also contributed, through which God often assists a soul worthy of being saved. But what was this vision? Here is the most delightful part of the entire narrative for me. She thought—which she had never done before, even though, being a wife, she was frequent in prayer—that she was chanting that portion of the Psalms of David: I was glad for those who said to me, We shall go into the house of the Lord (Ps. CXXI, 1). This song was new and unusual, and longing entered into her along with the song. When the woman heard this, having already obtained her vow, she seized the opportunity, interpreting this vision in the most delightful way by an accurate conjecture. She declared the magnitude of the benefit with the joy of her soul, and urged on her salvation, lest anything should intervene to hinder the calling and interrupt the undertaking on which she was bent with the greatest zeal. And certainly, since the situation had turned out such that several bishops were hastening to Nicaea, ^B in order to withstand the madness of Arius—as that heresy which was splitting the Godhead had just recently arisen—she surrendered herself to God and to the heralds of the truth, confessed her longing, and asked of them the common salvation; among whom was that illustrious Leontius, who at that time was governing our metropolis. But as for the miracle which here, too, was brought about by divine grace, if I were to remain silent, I would truly do a great injustice to that grace. There were not a few witnesses to this miracle. The masters of accurate discipline admit a certain spiritual error, and grace prefigures what was to come, and the form of the priesthood is mingled with the instruction. O, an initiation that was by no means spontaneous! For, having knelt down, he was so imbued with the words of instruction, that many of those present, not only the more talented, ^C but even the simpler ones, predicted the future, being confirmed by no obscure signs as to what was to come. XIII. Not much time had elapsed when another miracle was attached to this miracle; I shall commend this account to pious ears, for to profane souls nothing of what is noble is credible. He approached the rebirth through water ^D while still one of the catechumens, who were not accustomed to bend their knees, but only to offer their ears to be anointed with oil; yet he, against the law of instruction, bent his knees while being instructed, and the one who was instructing, also having erred as well, offered not the prayer of instruction, but of the priesthood.

^A And he approaches that regeneration which is effected through water and the Spirit, through which we confess to God the formation and perfection of the man who is according to Christ, and the change and refashioning of the earthly into the spiritual; and he approaches with ardent desire and with bright hope, having purified himself for the laver as much as he was able—having cleansed himself in soul and body, much more so than those who were once about to receive the tablets from Moses. For to them, the purification extended no further than their garments, a slight restricting of the belly, and a certain temporary temperance; but for him, his whole life in the interim was a preparation for the illumination, and before the purification there was a purification ensuring the gift, so that perfection might be entrusted to purity, and the good might not be endangered by being dared in a habit ^B that presided over the help of grace. And as he came up out of the water, a light shone around him and a glory worthy of the disposition of mind with which he had approached the grace of faith; it was visible even to some others, who at the time kept the miracle silent within themselves, not daring to speak of it—for each supposed that this vision had occurred to him alone—but a little later they shared it with one another. To Him who was baptizing and initiating, however, it was so manifest and well-known that he could not even contain the mystery in his breast, but cried out publicly that he had anointed his own successor with the Spirit.

^C XIV. And no one who has heard and known this would disbelieve that Moses, while he was still small among the many, and not yet accounted worthy of any [public] reputation, was called from the bush—which was burning indeed, but not being consumed, or rather by Him who was appearing in the bush—and was confirmed by that first miracle: that Moses, I say, he to whom the sea is divided, and bread rains down, and the rock gushes forth, and the pillar of fire and cloud lead the way, while standing by each other, and the stretching forth of whose hands sets up a trophy [of victory], and overcomes many myriads, prefiguring the cross. And Isaiah, the spectator of the glory and of the seraphim, and after him Jeremiah, who was entrusted with great power against nations and kings—the one hears the divine voice and is purified for the prophecy ^D by the coal; the other is known before his formation and sanctified before his birth. And Paul, being still a persecutor, the great herald of the truth, the teacher of the gentiles in faith—

he is enveloped in light, and he recognizes Him whom he was persecuting, and is entrusted with the great ministry, and fills every ear and mind with the Gospel. ^A

XV. But what need is there to recount all those who have been called by God, and were assured by such miracles as those by which that man also was confirmed in piety? And those early beginnings were not of such a kind, so incredible and paradoxical, that they subsequently brought shame and disgrace upon any of the preceding events, as is the way with some who quickly conceive a satiety and loathing for honorable things, and care not to progress further, or even fall back entirely into vice. It is not possible to say this of him; on the contrary, he remained quite consistent with himself and clung to his former footsteps, so that both parts harmonized beautifully with each other—the events before the priesthood with the good deeds of his priesthood, and those after it with what had gone before. And it was not fitting that he should have begun in any other way than how he ended, nor that he should have proceeded toward any other end than that from which he had taken his beginning. ^B He accepts the priesthood, not with that ease and disorder which flourishes now, but after some interval of time had elapsed, so that he might add to his own purification the skill and power of purifying others, as the law of spiritual order requires. And after he accepted it, the grace was celebrated all the more, as being in truth the grace of God and not of men, nor, as the Ecclesiastes says, some unbridled impulse and presumption of the spirit.

XVI. For having received the Church, wooded and untilled, not long before governed by episcopal care, but adorned by only one of his predecessors—who, though he was endowed with admirable and angelic ways, was yet simpler than those who now preside over the people—and he having been most quickly taken up into heaven, the Church had for a long time been neglected again and, through the lack of a bishop, had become squalid and overgrown with briars. ^C First of all, he softened the beast-like morals of the men without much difficulty, both by the discourses of pastoral art and also by offering himself for imitation, like a spiritual statue polished to the beauty of every excellent action. Then, having applied himself to the meditation of the sacred Scriptures with the greatest intensity of mind, although he had come late to such studies, he gathered so much erudition within a short time, that he was second to none of those who had labored most, and from God he received this exceptional grace: to become a father and teacher of orthodoxy. ^D

He did ^A not, like the wise men of this age, sway with the times, nor did he handle the word of God in a mediocre and artificial manner—as do those who lack a firm foundation of faith, or who trade in the truth—but he was more pious than the skilled rhetoricians and more logical than those who are sound of mind. Or rather, while being second to none in eloquence, he surpassed all in piety. He understood one God, worshiped in Trinity, and three gathered into one Godhead; and he did not lean toward Sabellianism through the one, nor toward Arianism through the three—either by impiously restricting or dissolving the Godhead, or by cutting it into unequal alienations of magnitude or nature. For where each thing is incomprehensible and beyond our conception, how can that which excels be grasped or defined here? And how is the infinite to be measured, so that the Godhead, which is above all limited things, should suffer this, being measured by degrees and foundations? ^B

XVII. When that great man of God, truly a Theologian, and moved by the Spirit concerning these matters, pondered these things, what else is to be said but that he caused this to be called a new Jerusalem and a sort of second ark mounting above the waters, just like that great Noah, the parent of this second world; and that he called this Church his own? It clearly surpassed the flood of souls that was then raging, and the assaults of the heretics; and by as much as it fell short of others in number, by so much did it prevail in glory. And it experienced the lot of sacred Bethlehem, which nothing prevented from being at once a small city and the metropolis of the world, inasmuch as it was the parent and nurse of Christ, the maker and victor of the world.

XVIII. Evidence of this ^C is as follows: For when a sedition was stirred up against us by the more fervent part of the Church, initiated by a document and by artificial words, and we had been drawn into a wicked faction, he alone was believed to have kept his mind unharmed and his soul un-blackened by that ink, even if he had been carried away through the simplicity of his mind and had not guarded against [their] guile because his own soul was free from all guile. He alone, or rather first, reconciled those who dissented from us for the sake of religious zeal, both to himself and to others; the last to be separated from us and the first to run back, out of reverence for the man and out of the purity of his doctrine; ^D so that even the great surging...

^A of the churches has been extinguished, and the squall has been restored to a calm, released by his prayers and exhortations—if it is permitted to speak with a youthful boastfulness—we, who were his companions in piety and labor, who were his helpers and associates in every good work, and who ran, as it were, at his side, have by the grace of God contributed the greatest part of the work and zeal. But let the account of these things, having run a little ahead, rest in this place.

XIX. For who could either enumerate the multitude of his virtues, or, wishing to pass over many things, easily find what should be omitted? ^B For whenever something enters the mind, it always seems more excellent than those things which preceded it; and I embrace this. I am more in doubt as to what I ought to omit than other panegyrists are as to what they ought to say. Thus it happens that my abundance in a way turns to my detriment, and my mind itself is tested as it sets out to explore his praises, yet can find nothing more excellent among things that are equal. For what we see happening in still waters—when a pebble falls in and makes a center, one circle after another is raised, and by continuously rippling, the latter always dissolves the outer circle—this has happened to me precisely in this matter. For one thing comes into my mind, another overcomes it, and another has withdrawn; and I labor in the selection, while that which I first seized gives way to that which later flows into my mind.

XX. For who was more diligent than he in public affairs? Who was wiser in domestic matters, ^C since God, who administers all things rightly and in manifold ways, granted him both a home and sufficient wealth? Who was more compassionate in spirit, or more generous and lavish in hand, toward the poor—that is, the most despised portion of our equal nature, to whom the same honor is owed? For in truth, he thought of his own goods as though he were a steward of another’s property, alleviating the poverty of the poor as much as he could, and expending not only what was superfluous, but also what was necessary for that purpose—which is indeed the clearest proof of charity toward the poor—and giving a portion not only to seven, as the law of Solomon prescribes, ^D but if an eighth should also approach, he did not labor under the vice of a restricted and sordid mind even then, but poured out his own possessions more willingly than others acquire them, removing the bond and the choice (which I interpret as tenacity and the scrutiny of whether or not the one who is to receive is worthy), and the word of murmuring along with the gift. This is what most people suffer, giving indeed, but not adding cheerfulness, which is greater and more perfect than the act of giving itself. For it is much better

^A to bestow even upon the undeserving for the sake of the deserving, than to deprive the deserving of their proper honor for the sake of the undeserving. And this seems to be the meaning of the command to cast one's bread even upon the waters, not that it will be scattered or perish before the just Judge of these things, but that it will arrive there where all our possessions will be laid up, and will meet us in time, even if we do not think so.

XXI.

XXII.

has brought men to the sanctuary, or has felt zeal against the injuries done to Him, or has with fear cleansed the sacred table from profane men? And who with such unwavering judgment, and with the scales of justice, has either judged a case, or hated wickedness, or honored virtue, or preferred the best of men? Who was so forgiving to those who sin, or so compliant with those who run the race well? And who, knowing best the time for both the rod and the staff, 79 has bestowed more grace upon the staff? And whose eyes were turned more toward the faithful of the earth, and among others, especially toward those who live for God in a solitary and celibate life, having counted the earth and the things of the earth as nothing?

XXIII. Now who has more restrained pride, or loved humility, and that not feignedly, or superficially, as do the many of the present day who wear the mask of virtue? And who are in appearance learned and elegant—being ^B not unlike the most foolish of women, who, bereft of native beauty, have recourse to paints, and in a way that is somehow decent and adorned, if I may so speak, exhibit themselves as if in theaters, being ugly because of their desire for beauty, and more deformed because of their filth? For humility did not reside in his clothing, but in the disposition of his soul; nor did a bowing of the neck, or a lowering of the voice, or a turning aside of the countenance, or a long beard, or an extreme shaving of the head, or a certain manner of walking, fashion his humility—things which, as they can be expressed for a brief space of time, so do they also betray themselves just as quickly; for nothing simulated is constant and lasting. But he was himself both in life most sublime, and in mind ^C most humble; and although no one could aspire to his virtue, the path to his company was most easy for all. And although he used the common and customary style of dress, abhorring equally both pride and squalor, yet by reason of his internal splendor he rose above many. And while he subdued and restrained the malady of the belly and its insatiable greed, as if any other man did, he did not however make a show of it—the former, that he might keep himself pure; the latter, that he might not, by catching at glory through the novelty of the thing, be puffed up in his mind. For it is indeed the work of a man of the world to do and say everything ^D from which he might be thought highly of by those on the outside, for whom there is nothing more blessed than the present life; but for the spiritual man, and for those like us, the work is to look to one thing only—salvation; and whatever may lead to this, to consider it a great thing, and whatever does not, to spit upon it as worth nothing.

^A For this cause, while he held that which is seen as of no account, he looked only to how things might be at their best within, and set great store by those things which would make him himself most worthy, and would draw others also, through his example, toward the best.

XXIV. On his Simplicity and Meekness

XXIV. But among all his ornaments, nothing was so beautiful and characteristic of him, and indeed recognized by the many, as his simplicity, and his guileless and ungrudging character. For one man is believed to have excelled in one strength of the ancient or modern days, as each happened to be deemed worthy of some grace from God. Job was distinguished for his endurance and invincibility in trials; Moses and David for their meekness; Samuel for his power to prophesy, looking toward things to come; Phinees for his zeal, from which he also takes his name; Peter and Paul ^B for the intensity of their preaching; the sons of Zebedee for their proclamation, for which they were called Sons of Thunder. And why should I count them all? For I speak to those who know these things. But for Stephen and my father, nothing made them so noble and distinguished as their gentleness and innocence of character. For the one, even when brought into danger of his life, did not hate those who attacked him; but while he was being stoned, he prayed for those who stoned him, as a disciple of Christ, for whom he was suffering, bearing fruit for God greater than death—namely, long-suffering. The other felt no interval at all between the criticism and the forgiveness; in fact, the pain caused by the injury was, by the speed of his pardon, almost snatched away.

XXV. On his Wrath, How it was Governed

XXV. We believe and hear that there is a certain "dregs" of divine wrath, ^C that is, the remnant of movement against those who are worthy of it, since God is the Lord of vengeance. For even if, out of his love for mankind, he inclines from severity toward leniency, yet he does not entirely overlook those who sin, lest they should become worse through his kindness. But my father reserved nothing against those who provoked him, although he was not entirely invulnerable to anger, especially when overcome by zeal in spiritual matters—unless he happened to be prepared and armed, and had drawn up his defenses against that which would cause him annoyance, as if against an enemy from afar. In such a case, he would not have been moved by myriads, as the saying goes, and even this movement of his soul was sweet. For his anger was not according to the likeness of the ^D surface, smoldering within and ready for retaliation, nor did it arrive at wrath from the first impulse and the desire for counter-attack, but rather at the center of the

surface, smoldering within and ready for retaliation, nor did it arrive at wrath from the first impulse and the desire for counter-attack; truth be told, he was like the sting of a bee, which pricks in such a way that it does not bring death: yet such was his benignity, the likes of which it seems one should not even demand of a human being. He often threatened wheels and scourges, and those who would carry them out were ready at hand; but the danger ended either in a pulling of the ears, or an affront to the cheeks, or blows struck with the fist. Thus were his threats dissolved. Garments and shoes were removed, and he who had committed some crime lay prostrate on the ground: afterwards, his anger ^A would turn, not against the one who had committed the injustice, but against him who had promptly and zealously carried out the penalty, as being a minister of evils. Truly, how could anyone have seemed more kind, or more worthy to offer gifts to God? For he was often stirred to anger, but would immediately apologize for the one who had provoked him, blushing for that man's sins just as if they were his own.

XXVI. The rose would rather have endured the sun diffusing its morning rays than that any anger should reside in his soul.

and forgiveness, often brings great salvation, ^A holding back the offender and transforming their fear into a more secure goodwill. Some were chastised, thrown by oxen exhausted by the yoke, which rushed upon them suddenly, having never suffered such a thing before; others were thrown by horses and trampled, [though these were] among the most obedient and gentle of creatures; others were seized by insufferable fevers and visions of the things they had dared to do; others were disciplined in other ways, and learned obedience from what they had suffered.

XXVII. Was his gentleness, then, so great and so widely known that he surrendered the advantage in industry and the virtue concerned with practical affairs to another? Not at all. He was, in fact, the same man—gentle, if ever anyone was, yet active in his gentleness. For two things that, for the most part, fight and stand against one another—simplicity and severity—of which the one possesses gentleness combined with inaction, and the other possesses the practical aspect stripped of humanitarianism—these two came together marvelously in him: he would act, when necessary, with the severity of a man of action, together with gentleness; and he would yield, ^B as one not given to action, with perfection, in governance, in boldness of speech, in every manner of leading. For having mingled the prudence of the serpent regarding evil with the simplicity of the dove regarding what is good, he did not allow his prudence to become knavery, nor his simplicity to become folly; but rather, he perfected one form of virtue from both, as far as was possible, precise in all its parts. Having shown himself such a man, and having so presided over the priesthood, and having attained such glory among all people, what wonder is it that he was also deemed worthy of the signs by which God confirms piety? ^C

XXVIII. Among the miracles concerning him was this: he was suffering from an illness and was in a bad state of body. And what is wonderful if holy men also suffer, whether for the cleansing of even a small amount of mire, or for the testing of virtue and the proof of philosophy, or for the instruction of the weaker ones, who learn from them to endure and not to lose heart in their afflictions? He was suffering, then, and the time was the holy and renowned Easter, the king of days, the brightest night, which dissolves the darkness of sin, during which we, under abundant light, celebrate the salvation of ^D our own selves, and, having been deadened together with the Light that died for our sake, we rise again together with Him as He rises. At that time, then, the crisis of the season was present; but the state of affairs was, to tell it briefly: A fever, fierce and burning, was consuming his whole depth, and his strength had failed him, while of food...

he was deprived, sleep had departed, he knew not where to turn, and he frequently fainted from palpitations of the heart. Now all the inner parts of his mouth, and the palate itself, and whatsoever hangs above it, were teeming with so many and such bitter and continuous ulcers, that even the passage for water was neither easy nor without danger. ^B Neither indeed could the arts of physicians, nor the prayers, however assiduous, of kinsmen or close friends, nor any kind of cure, be sufficient to repel the disease. And he was in this state, breathing in a small and desperate way, and not even recognizing those present, but entirely intent upon his departure, and upon those things which he had long since desired, and which had been made ready for him. We, however, were in the temple, ^C mystics and suppliants at the same time (all other remedies being, as it were, despaired of, we took refuge with the great physician and the power of that night, as our final hope and aid); what shall I say? Were we to keep the feast, or were we to mourn? Were we to take joy from the celebration of the day, or were we to honor him, who was no longer here, with funeral rites? O those tears, which the whole people then poured forth! What voices and clamors were intermingled with the singing of the psalms! ^D From the temple they sought the priest, from the mystery the celebrant of the sacred rites, from God the worthy attendant; and this was led by my Maria, beating the timbrel—not the triumphal one, but the suppliant one—and then for the first time setting aside modesty for the sake of grief, and imploring the people and God alike with great cries; the former, that they might suffer with her who was suffering, and vie with one another in their tears; the latter, that He might hear those who were praying, and (for grief has great power at discovery) remind Him of all the miracles He had formerly performed.

XXIX. What then of that night, and of God, concerning him who lay there? As I proceed to the narration of the things that follow, a shuddering comes over me; and I would that you too might shudder, you who are listening, but do not withhold your faith from the account: for it is not right, since we are speaking both of ourselves and of him. ^C The time of the mystery was present, and the venerable standing and order, keeping quiet and silence for the things being celebrated, when he is aroused by Him who calls the dead to life, and by the sacrosanct night. At first he moves a little, then more firmly: soon, with a very small and faint voice, he summons one of those who were attending him by name, and bids him be present and offer a garment, and hold out a hand. And he who was present, with astonishment and...

^A prompt obedience, acts as a staff to guide his hand, and he imitates that Moses on the mountain; and having set his weakened hands in the posture of prayer, he eagerly performs or rather presides over the mysteries for the people, with few words, and as many as he could manage, but with a mind, as it seems to me, most perfect. O the miracle! Without a sanctuary in a sanctuary, without an altar a sacrificer, a priest far removed from the mysteries; and these things were present to him from the Holy Spirit, perceived by him, but not at all visible to those who were present. Afterward, when he had uttered the words of thanksgiving ^B in the customary manner, and had blessed the people, he returns again to his bed, and having taken a little food and partaken of sleep, he gathers his strength. And when his health had gradually increased, and the new day of the feast was at hand (which we call the first Lord’s Day, as we reckon it after that day of Resurrection), he reaches the sanctuary with the whole body of the Church, dedicates the salvation, and offers the thanksgivings. And this act of his, in my judgment, is no less worthy than the miracle done in the case of Hezekiah; he, having fallen ill and prayed, was glorified by God with an addition of life; and this He made known by the shadow of the steps returning, according to the request of the one who was saved; ^C at once honoring the king with the grace and with the sign, and confirming the addition of days by the addition of the day.

XXX. The same miracle occurred also in my mother, not long afterward, and it is worth while not to pass over this either; for we shall honor her with what is fitting, if anyone is worthy of honor, and we shall share the communion of the narrative with him. An illness seized her, strong and generous as she was, and healthy for all her life. But while there were many painful symptoms, so as not to prolong the story, the most severe was the lack of nourishment, which she suffered dangerously for many days, and found no remedy for this evil. How then does God feed her? Not by raining manna, as of old for Israel; or by a rock

so that it might gush forth for a thirsty people; or by feeding her with ravens, as that Elias of old; or by satisfying her through a prophet caught up on high, as Daniel earlier when he was oppressed by hunger in the den. In what manner, then? It seemed to her that I, whom she held most dear (for she preferred me to all others, nor did she ever prefer anyone else to me even in a dream), suddenly appeared to her by night, holding a basket with the whitest of loaves, and that after I had blessed them and marked them with the sign of the cross in my accustomed way, I had fed her and restored her, and that thus she had regained her strength. And truly that nocturnal vision was a work of truth. For from that time she returned to herself and conceived a better hope. ^B And this is manifest from an open and clear proof. For when, on the following morning, I entered to her and first saw that she was more cheerful than before, and then asked the usual questions as to how she had fared during the night and whether she stood in need of anything: "You have fed me, O my son," she replied, "quite readily and kindly, and do you then ask how I am? I am remarkably well and at peace." At the same time, the handmaidens signaled to me with a nod of the head not to contradict her, but to accept this answer at once, lest, should the truth be revealed, she be overcome by grief. I shall add one more thing common to us both.

XXXI. When I was sailing from Alexandria across the Parthenian Sea towards Greece (I was sailing in an Aeginetan ship at a completely untimely season, as my longing so persuaded me; for what particularly impelled me was that I had fallen in with sailors who were acquaintances), as I say, ^C as I was sailing and we had already proceeded but a little way, a grave storm arose, such as those who were sailing with me said they had rarely remembered before. And while all feared the common death, to me, on the contrary, the death of the soul brought a greater dread. For I, wretched, had fallen into danger of departing from this life without being initiated, longing for the spiritual water amidst the destructive and deadly waves. And therefore I cried out, I besought, I begged for a brief respite. My fellow passengers also cried out with me, and this in the midst of common perils, acting as if they were not merely strangers who, being human, had learned from perils to show compassion, but even some of my own kin. This I ^D was suffering, and my parents were suffering with me, participating in the danger through a nocturnal vision, and from the land they brought aid, as it were enchanting the force of the waves with their prayers, as we learned when we returned and pieced together the time. This, too, a saving sleep revealed to us, once we recognized it, after the surge had slightly abated. I was holding fast to the Fury, looking fearfully...

^A at her visage as she threatened danger—for this is what the night clearly depicted for us. Another of those sailing with us (he was a boy, one of those most friendly and dear to me, and deeply anxious for me, as the situation stood) seemed to see my mother, who had entered the sea, and taking hold of the ship, was pulling it to land with no great effort. And the vision proved trustworthy; for the sea was growing calm, and we immediately put in at Rhodes, having suffered not much in the interval. We ourselves became a gift for that danger; for as we had vowed ourselves to God if we escaped the peril, so, once we had been preserved, we gave ourselves to Him as a gift.

^B XXXII. These things, then, were common to both. I have long wondered, however, at some of those who are clearly acquainted with his affairs, why it is that, having spent so much time on these matters—as if we had only these things to recount for his praise—we should have delayed mentioning the difficulties of the times, against which he himself appears to have drawn up a battle line, as if we were either unaware of them or did not deem them great. Come then, let us add these to what has already been said. Our age bore a first, and I think also a last, evil: that is, an emperor who fell away both from God and from his own wits; who, considering it a small task to subjugate the Persians to his empire and dominion, but a great one to bring the Christians into his power, and at the same time being persuaded to this by the demons who led him, omitted no species of impiety, using persuasion, threats, and sophistry, dragging men to himself not only by the tricks he devised, but also by those with which he used force. Nor was he able to conceal his persecution under the guise of sophistical schemes, nor did he use his power openly, so that we might be caught in one way or the other—whether by being wickedly deceived or by being compelled. Who, then, could be found who has more either despised or thwarted this man? Of his contempt, among many other signs, the witnesses are those archers, and their commander, whom he had sent against our holy houses ^C as if to receive them by surrender or to destroy them. For since he had attacked many others, he came there too with the same arrogance, and, with the emperor’s mandates, demanded the house of God for himself; and he fell so short of accomplishing any of what he willed, that had he not—whether by his own counsel or by listening to someone’s advice—quickly yielded to my father, he would have departed with feet bruised, such was the anger and zeal burning against him for the temple of the Master. ^D And how could anyone be seen to have brought about his defeat more, whether by public prayers and supplications...

^A for the utter destruction of that unclean and sacrilegious man, fearing not even the time, but privately setting against him a nocturnal battle-array, and by sleeping upon the ground wearing out those aged and dew-kissed limbs, and drenching the pavement with tears, for nearly an entire year—and this, he, while keeping it known only to Him who knows hidden things, and practicing philosophy alone, yet attempting to hide it from us, as I said, because of the freedom from ostentation of his piety? And he would certainly have remained entirely hidden, had I not once suddenly entered his bedchamber, and perceiving the signs of a pallet, and inquiring of one of his servants what this might be, I learned the mystery of the night.

XXXIII. ANOTHER NARRATION OF THE SAME TIME AND OF THE SAME FORTITUDE

Receive [now] another narrative of the same time and of the same fortitude. The citizens of Caesarea were contending among themselves regarding the creation of a bishop, for one had departed and another was required, and the sedition was fervent and not easily to be suppressed or allayed. ^B For by its nature the city is especially prone to sedition in this matter, due to the warmth of its faith, and the glory and splendor of the see brought a greater heap of contention. And so matters stood; and some of the bishops were present, that they might provide a high priest. But since the multitude was distracted into several opinions, and one proposed one person and another another, as is wont to happen in such matters, just as each person was led either by benevolence toward someone or by piety toward God, at last the whole populace, with one accord, seized a certain man of the primary order, excellent indeed in life and character, but not yet sealed by divine baptism, ^C and, albeit unwilling and resisting, and with the aid of the military forces that were then in the city, they placed him in the sanctuary and presented him to the bishops, and began to demand that they initiate him and proclaim him high priest, mixing force with persuasion in the interim: not, indeed, in a very orderly or composed manner, but yet very piously and ardently. Nor is it to be said here who was more illustrious than he, or more excelling in piety: time revealed this. For what occurs, and where has the sedition advanced? They were forced, they purified him, they proclaimed him high priest, they placed him ^D upon the throne, by hand more than by intent and disposition of spirit; but this was made known by the events that followed. For as they departed content, and became masters of their own mind, they entered into counsel with one another—I do not know whether by the impulse of the Spirit, but they entered into it nonetheless, namely, that nothing of those things which had been done should be held valid, nor the constitution itself approved—calling to account the force used against him, though he had been forced no less, and seizing upon certain words as having been spoken then more rashly than wisely. Not, however, was the great high priest and just examiner of affairs carried away with those who were deliberating these things, nor did he approve their opinion; but he remained

constant and invincible, no less than if no violence at all had been brought to bear upon him. For since the violence was universal, it was required that either those who accused should in turn be accused, or those who absolved should be absolved; or, what was more just, that not even those who absolved should be absolved. For if pardon was due to the former, it was surely due to the latter as well; but if those were not to be pardoned in any way, much less were the former. For it would have been far better for them to have faced the danger of that time and to have resisted to the very end, than to have prepared snares later on, and that especially at a time when existing enmities should rather have been laid aside than new ones devised. For so the situation stood.

^A XXXIV. The emperor arrived, raging against the Christians; he bore this ordination with an angry and inflamed mind, and threatened grievous things against him who had been promoted. The city was on the razor's edge, whether it should cease to exist after that day, or escape the danger and obtain some measure of humanity. For in addition to the grievances by which he was already provoked concerning the temple of Fortune—which had been demolished and razed during a time of prosperity—the ordination of that man was added, which he interpreted as a subversion and, as it were, a plundering of public affairs. He who governed the province was seeking ways by which he might comply with the times and punish the man with some evil, as he was not otherwise of a friendly and benevolent mind toward him, but rather a dissenter due to opposing political views. He summoned those who had performed the ordination by letters, as if they were to be accusers, no longer gently and remissly, but now adding something of a threat, as if the emperor demanded this. ^B When, therefore, my father also received a letter from him, fearing nothing, and without making any delay (let us consider, I pray, from the things he replied, what great freedom of speech he possessed, and with what spirit it was conjoined): "We," he says, "O most powerful governor, have one censor and King of all things that are done, Who is now being fought against. He will examine this present ordination, which we have performed in a manner agreeable to the law and pleasing to Him. To use violence against us in some other matter, if you are so minded, you may easily do; but this no one will ever take from us: that we defend what has been done as having been done rightly and justly; unless, perhaps, ^C you should also consider this—" ^D This letter even he who received it admired, even if for a short while he was angered, as many of those who were well acquainted with his affairs reported; this also stayed the impulse of the emperor, and delivered the city from danger, nor would I add lightly that it also delivered us from shame. Such was the deed of this man of a small city, and of the throne.

^A Annon is it not far better to hold a position of leadership in this way, than to declaim from more lofty thrones, and to be superior in deeds rather than in names?

35 XXXV. Now, as to that which is last in the order of his recorded deeds, but first and greatest in its power and importance, who is so remote from our world as to be ignorant? The same city was again laboring under sedition for the same reason—namely, because he to whom violence had been rightly offered had very quickly finished his life and departed to God, for whom he had fought bravely and strenuously in the persecutions. And the sedition was as much more absurd as it was more hot and fervent. For it was not unknown who excelled; just as the sun is recognizable among the stars, so it was also most conspicuous to all the rest, and especially to the chosen and purest part of the people—that is, both those who stand around the altar and our own Nazarites, to whom alone, or at any rate most especially, elections of this kind ought to be entrusted (for thus the Churches would never be in a bad state) ^B and not to those who are powerful in wealth and influence, or to the impulse and rashness of the mob, and even to the most vile and contemptible of the common people. But now, I am in danger of thinking that public governments are ordered and disciplined better than our own, to which the divine grace is attributed by the voice of all, and I believe that affairs of this kind are governed better by fear than by reason. For if it were not so, who of sound mind, having left thee, O divine and sacred head, could have turned to another—having left thee, I say, who art depicted in the hands of the Lord, who knowest not the yoke of marriage, who possessest nothing, who art almost devoid of flesh and blood, who in the praise of letters and in eloquence holdest the second place after the Word, wise among philosophers, ^C sublime to the world even while among the worldly, my companion and fellow-worker, the sharer of my soul, and, to say something more daring, my partner in life and education? I could wish that this discourse had freedom, describing thee before others, and that these things were not being weighed while thou art present, where I am forced to diminish the greater part of thy praises, lest I incur the suspicion of flattery. But, that I may return to the discourse I have begun, the Spirit ^D knew his own—for how, indeed, could He not?—but envy stood in the way; as for what was being said, I am ashamed to mention it; would that it were not even possible to hear others speaking and carefully mocking our affairs. This, then, like the stones in the middle of a river, let us pass over, honoring with silence things deserving of oblivion; let us ourselves proceed to the following parts of the discourse.

Turning to the Great Basil, he addresses him saying:

^A XXXVI. This spiritual man knew accurately the things of the Spirit; and for this reason he thought that one ought not to harbor any base sentiment, nor to contend based on partisan factions [(90)] and preconceived opinions, attributing more to grace than to God; but to look to one thing alone, the benefit of the Churches and the common salvation. For this reason he used to write, to admonish, and to harmonize the people, the priests [(91)], and the others, as many as belonged to the sanctuary; he bore witness, he cast his vote [(92)], and he ordained even when not present; he gave to his hoary age the power to hold authority over strangers as if they were his own people. And finally, when the canonical [(93)] ordination for him had to take place, since one was lacking [(94)] in the number of those proclaiming, he tore himself from his couch, though broken by old age and disease [(95)], and rushed to the city with youthful vigor; or rather, he was carried, his body being like a corpse and barely breathing, convinced that that zeal would be a fine shroud for him, even if he had to suffer some misfortune. And here too a sign occurred that is not to be disbelieved: he is strengthened by the effort, he rejuvenates in his eagerness, he manages affairs, he marshals the battle, he places him on the throne [(96)], and he is escorted back, no longer using a bier as a coffin, but as a divine ark. Moreover, the long-suffering I just finished praising, he demonstrated even more fully here. For since his colleagues, who could not bear the shame of their defeat and the authority and power that the old man possessed in all matters, were on that account ill-disposed toward him and reviling him [(97)], he was able—by the patience he maintained—to rise above even these, having found his greatest ally in gentleness, and in the refusal to revile back when reviled. For what would it be so terrible if, having conquered in the situation, he allowed himself to be conquered in speech? Therefore, he captured them too with his long-suffering—having adopted time itself as an ally to his purpose—to such an extent that they excused themselves, fell at his feet, and turned their indignation into wonder. They were ashamed of their previous actions, and they used him as patriarch, legislator, and judge, having cast away their hatred. ^{B C D}

XXXVII. The same zeal pertains to his contest against the heretics.

when they embarked upon an expedition against us together with the imperial impiety, as if they would both overthrow us and add us to the others who were already almost all enslaved. Not even here did he contribute a small part to us, both of his own accord and perhaps through us, whom he sent against them as against the fiercest wild beasts, not as cowardly or base puppies, but training us for piety. In both cases I blame ^B—and do not be vexed with me for this frankness; for I will give vent to my sorrow, even if this speech be heavy and burdensome—that you, having delivered me—carrying this burdensome and insidious market of souls, through the fair name of the priesthood, although I have been bearing the evils of this life with an unequal mind, and longing for solitude more than I know anyone else of our time does, and striving with all my might to avoid as quickly as I could this common storm and dust, and to take refuge in a safe place—have thus delivered me into this position. From which, evils have already happened to me, and others are impending. For whoever has already suffered something, even he who is in some way skeptical about the future, yet if reason suggests better things, it persuades him of something else.

XXXVIII. And indeed I should not pass over this praise of his as well. He was, in all matters, a ^C man of fortitude and superior to his bodily covering; but lastly, suffering from a disease which made its assault together with old age, and that a long-lasting and dangerous one, he had that which was common with other men, namely that he was ill; but this was not common, but very peculiar and consistent with his other miracles. For when he was never without being pressed by pain, and that very often throughout the day, and sometimes even the hour, he would gain strength from the liturgy alone; and the affliction would withdraw, as if banished by a decree. Having lived almost a hundred years—that is, beyond the Davidic boundaries of our time—and having spent forty-five of these in the ^D priesthood, which is almost the measure of a human life, he at last closed his life in a good old age. And how? Amidst the words and posture of prayer, leaving behind no trace of vice, but very many monuments of virtue. Wherefore his veneration is greater than the human condition would seem to bear, established in the tongues and minds of all; nor is it easy to find one who, when remembering him, does not also embrace his image, acting as the Scripture says, placing a hand upon his mouth.

^A Such was his life, and such was the completion and perfection of his life.

XXXIX. Since, however, it was necessary that a monument to his greatness of soul ^B should also be left to posterity, what else could be more appropriate than this temple, which he erected both to God and to us, using only a little from the people, while contributing the greater part from his own resources? It is a work truly worthy of more than silence, one that in its magnitude is vast, and in its beauty surpasses almost everything else. For it meets itself in eight equilateral straight lines, and with the elegance of columns and double-tiered porticoes—not yielding in their beauty to nature itself—it rises to a lofty summit, while being graced with statues; it is illuminated from above by the heavens and radiates upon the eyes of beholders with abundant fountains of light, so that it is truly a dwelling-place of light. Furthermore, it is encircled by equigular ^C ambulatories of most splendid material, which encompass a vast space in the center, and it shines forth with the grace of gates and vestibules, receiving those who approach from afar. Not yet do I speak of the exterior adornment, of the beauty and size of the squared stone, joined with such precision that it rivals the marmoreal—both in the bases and capitals by which the corners are intercepted—and the native stone, which in no respect yields to the foreign. Not yet do I speak of the varied and manifold bands, stretching and interwoven from the foundation to the summit, which strike the spectator with awe, restricting his gaze. How could speech, in so few words, represent a project of such time, of such labor, and of such effort? Or will it suffice to say that, while many works adorn other cities, both private and public, this alone had the power to make us renowned among many? And such is the state of the temple. ^D Since, however, a priest was also needed, he bestowed this also from his own house; whether he is worthy of the temple, I cannot say, but he bestowed him nonetheless. And since sacrifices were also needed, he added these as well: the sufferings of his son and his endurance in calamities, so that God might have from him a rational whole burnt offering, a spiritual victim correctly offered in place of the legal sacrifice.

XL. What say you, O father? Are these things sufficient, and have you received the rewards for the labors which, upon my words,

^A you endured? Do you offer this as a farewell gift, or as a funeral oration, the old custom; and do you here too set a limit to it, avoiding satiety, so that it may be proportionate? Or do you seek some further addition? You define it, I know; for it is sufficient. But allow me to add this: make known to us where you are in glory, and the light that surrounds you, and your spouse of a short time hence, and the children whom you buried before you 22; and receive me into the same tabernacles, or if not that, at least into a place where I shall suffer little in this life; and before the tabernacles, by this sweet stone 23 which you set up for us both, honoring here also your priest and namesake; and forgive the omission of what was passed over in the sermon, and the acceptance of what was assumed for your sake. And may you guide us safely 25, especially the whole flock and all the high priests of whom you were called father, and especially him who was forced by you, and tyrannized both paternally and ^B spiritually, so that I may not reproach you for everything regarding that tyranny.

XLI. But what do you think, O judge of my words and movements? If these things have been spoken with sufficient convenience and abundance, and as your desire demanded, confirm this with your vote, and we shall accept it. For truly your vote is the vote of God. But if we have fallen far short of his glory and your expectation, the ally is at hand to bring help. Send forth your voice upon his praises, like timely rain 28; for indeed he holds you bound and obligated by the greatest ties, both as pastor to pastor, and as father to son, at least so far as grace is concerned. But what is to be wondered at, if he who thundered to the world through you, might himself also enjoy something of your voice? What remains now? It remains that, with the spiritual Sarah, the spouse ^C of our great father Abraham, and his equal in time, we should philosophize about the funeral rites 30.

XLII. The nature of God and of men 31 is not the same; or rather, to speak in general, [the nature] of the heavenly and the earthly is not. For among them, that which is constant and immortal exists, both being itself, and whatever pertains to that being; for firm things are of the firm. But how do our affairs stand?

They flow and are corrupted, and take one change after another. For life and death, things which are so called, though they seem to differ greatly from each other, yet in a way pass into one another and replace each other. For the one, beginning from corruption, our mother, and proceeding through that corruption—which is the perpetual passing away of that which is present—ends in corruption, that is, in the termination of this life; but the other, which releases us from the evils here, and often translates us to the life above, I do not know if it could properly be called death, possessing the fearful quality more in name than in reality. And we seem to be affected in a way that is absurd and preposterous, fearing things that are not at all dreadful, while embracing as more desirable things that should be feared. There is one life—to look toward [true] Life. There is one death—sin; for it is the destruction of the soul. As for other things, over which some are puffed up, they are but the vision of dreams mocking the realities, and deceptive phantasms of the soul. ^B If we are of this mind, O mother, we shall neither be puffed up by life, nor overly grieved by death. What grievous thing, then, have we suffered, if we have departed from hence to the true Life? If we are freed from turnings, and dizziness, and satiety, and that shameful taxation, shall we not, together with those who stand and do not flow, be small lights dancing about the great Light?

XLIII.

...most wise; let it be a common remedy of consolation for those who mourn, so that humans may see humans escorting humans. ^B

MONITUM ON ORATION XIX

I. After the death of his father, Gregory was preparing to withdraw into his beloved solitude. During these delays, Julian—not the Apostate, who had already departed from the living, but another, the best of our Gregory’s friends and equals, born in the same fatherland as the Theologian, having used the same teachers and been imbued with the same disciplines, and who had even then, in pleading cases, gained for himself an outstanding reputation for fairness and integrity—was appointed to equalize the taxes of Nazianzus. Gregory immediately endeavored to incite this man toward mercy and kindness—toward the poor, the clerics, and the philosophers (that is, the monks)—both through letters and through poetry. Julian willingly assented to the requests, yet on the condition that he [Gregory], in turn, should pay a sermon in place of tribute. This law imposed upon the Theologian was burdensome. But love for the poor overcame everything: and in truth, although resisting, he delivered this oration soon after.

II. The orator begins “from the tyranny by which he is constantly pressed out of charity.” For he himself, through the whole course of his life, desired to die to this world and to lead a life hidden in Christ. With his father lost, he embraced silence; thinking himself invincible in this purpose, he later confesses himself conquered; and placed in those straits, he seeks to say something more preeminent than silence. Having therefore seized the opportunity provided by the festival of the martyrs, he uplifts his listeners by their examples, in every way, from the contempt of human things to celestial things. But after he has discoursed on kindness, mercy, and other virtues, he teaches (n. 11) “to render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” Then he transfers the oration to Julian, and urges him that, precisely as he refers tributes to the public accounts, he should describe these with an even balance, and, having Christ himself—who was born at the very time of the description—before his eyes, he should show himself kind and approachable to his fellow servants.

III. This is the analytical synopsis of this oration. We believe it was delivered in that space of time which flowed from the death of Gregory the Elder until the Theologian’s withdrawal into Isauria. For when the Theologian in this oration neither named Gregory the father even once, as he had been accustomed to do in others, it is in no way to be doubted that he was already deceased. Gregory the Elder died, as we saw in the previous Monitum, around the middle of the year 374, and the Theologian withdrew into Isauria the following year, as is inferred from the series of events that happened there. Furthermore, Julian, according to Tillemont, was appointed to equalize taxes in this very year 374. Whence it is not ill-conceived that this oration for the poor, the clerics, and the monks was delivered at the end of the year 374, or the beginning of 375.

ORATION XIX

I. What is this tyranny by which we are constantly pressed out of charity? What is this wisdom and knowledge of ours, on account of which we are fought against at every festival? For my part, I search and examine myself on all sides, and I find absolutely none. However, this one thing I know with myself,...

and perhaps it is not bad, even if some call it simplicity. I wished throughout all my life to die to the world, and to live the life hidden in Christ, and to become a great merchant, having purchased the precious pearl with everything I possess, and having exchanged the flowing and drifting things for those that are stable and heavenly—which is indeed the greatest and most secure of all trades to those who have any sense. But if I could not attain this, at least I wished to be steadfast in this: to yield the thrones to those who desire them, and to be myself, throughout all my life, a child and a disciple, until I should wash away the bitter with the sweet of the discourses. Let this, then, be one part of my philosophy, or simplicity—and this is the first; the second is that which is the greatest.

^B II. Since I was not able by my speech to restrain the loquacity of the many, nor the impulse and eagerness that now possesses all, as they rush headlong to teach and speak of the things of the Spirit without the Spirit, I have taken another path—one that I persuade myself is better and less laborious—to instruct all in silence by the archetype of silence: if they think anything great of me, by respecting my superiority, or if they think little of me, as much as is appropriate, by measuring themselves with one who is their equal. This is the reason for my silence; this is the mystery of my endurance.

^C III. But what am I to do? Some from one side, some from another, pull and tear at me, and they litigate over my labors, demanding the word precisely as if it were some debt, and they love me more than I love myself. They are all wiser than I, knowing better than I the season for speech or ^D for silence. They say they will not desist—striking me with insults as if with iron upon flint—until they have kindled from a small spark the torch of my words. And now, some of them even promise more pleasant things, and set before me great rewards for my words: first, that they will benefit themselves, by offering to God and to me the fruit of my discourse; and then that they will also benefit all these others, my portion—if indeed my father’s flock is mine, my own flock—whom I would greatly wrong if I did not in every way provide for their benefit.

How ^A much the better that they compensate for the lack of those discourses with this effort! Oh, what a noble rivalry, that they contend to defeat me! Oh, what remarkable generosity! See what my silence has produced: it has stirred up in you a greater desire for the discourses themselves. See what fruit my contempt for glory has borne. ^B Would that the discourses brought as much profit as the silence has brought.

IV. Since, then, this is your pleasure, and you have defeated the invincible one, and have set up a trophy over my philosophy, come, let me say something to you better and more excellent than silence. I shall not, therefore, utter anything soft or sluggish, nor anything pleasing to the crowd through rhythmic harmony (for I would not be rightly requiting those who love me if I were to converse in that way), but rather I shall use a very robust, keen, and vehement manner of discourse, by which you might perhaps become better, being translated from the flesh to the spirit and having your minds sufficiently lifted on high. "Ye sons of men, how long will ye be heavy-hearted?" (for I shall begin the prelude to you from the most grand-voiced David), "why do ye love vanity, and seek after lying?" imagining the life here, and luxury, and a small glimmer of glory, and humble power, and false prosperity to be something great and vast. These things, however, are no more the property of those who possess them than of those who have them in hope; nor again any more of these than of those among whom they were never even in expectation. But, just as dust from a whirlwind, so are they blown and tossed about from some to others, and they slip away like smoke, and delude men like a dream, and like a shadow they cannot be held in the hands; and, in short, they are so constituted that neither do those who do not have them despair of attaining them when they are absent, ^C nor are they trustworthy and certain to those who do have them when they are present.

V. Shall we not look up to heaven above? Shall we not awaken? Shall we not wipe the rheum from our eyes? Shall we not understand what are the true riches, and what is the radiance that is truly real, and what dignity does not fall away? What is the unending blessedness, and where is the immovable good, neither changing nor subject to plots? Shall we not acquire these things ^D with many labors and hardships, if it so happens? If something must be given to luxury in this life, shall we not have the hope of future things instead of luxury? Shall we not take note of the holy martyrs, both those who, like certain universal bonds, have encompassed the whole world, and also those in whose name we celebrate this present feast? For what cause come the wounds, and bonds, and tortures, and the threat of fire, and the edge of the sword, and...

the fury of beasts, and darkness, and famine, and bottomless pits, and the plundering of goods, and the casting away of limbs, and finally death and all extreme things, did they endure with a ready and eager spirit, as if they were contending in foreign bodies? ^A Why, and what 66 should they inherit, or 67 is it not manifest to all, even if we do not speak of it? Shall we not—with the same hope, under the same judge of the contest and arbiter of the prize—draw up our line of battle against the same tyrant, he who is cruel both then and now, the persecutor of souls, the invisible enemy and adversary? Shall we not strive with equal virtue in this world, as if in a common theater, even if not with the urgency of a danger that allows for an immediate departure, but at least in our daily struggles and wrestlings, so that we may be deemed worthy of the same crowns, or those as close as possible 70?

VI. I exhort all, both men and women, both old and young, and those in the city and those in the country, the private citizen and the ruler, the rich and the poor (for the same contest calls all), to gird themselves readily for the struggle against this enemy, and not to be soft, nor to delay, nor to throw away the opportunity, which it is impossible to obtain again. For this is the time for labor, but the future is for the recompense. Arise, let us go hence! You have heard the Savior saying this—who was not so much moving the disciples at that time from the place of Judea, but was rather moving away from hence all who would thereafter be his disciples, and drawing them to himself, having been lifted up, just as he had promised he would do 86. Therefore, let us follow the good Master; let us flee from worldly desires, let us flee from the deceitful world and the prince of this world; let us belong purely to him who created us, let us honor the image, let us respect the calling, let us change our life for the better. Why do we cast ourselves down of our own accord, when we have been created ^B sublime and exalted? Why do we cling to things that fall under our sight? ^C

VII. Let each one, insofar as he is able, offer to God at every time, and in every manner of life and circumstance, according to the measure of the power present to him, and according to the grace granted to him, so that by all modes of virtue we may fill all the mansions of the heavenly kingdom, reaping only as much as we have sown; or, to speak more exactly, having stored up in the divine granaries as much as we have harvested. Let one man contribute—

^A money, another the very fact that he has nothing; one a readiness to merit well of his neighbor, another by accepting the good will of another; one honorable action, another keen and skillful contemplation; one timely and fitting speech, another silence joined with reason; one blameless doctrine and a life that does not contradict it, another an obedient and sensible ear; one pure virginity that cuts itself off entirely from the world, another chaste marriage that does not entirely separate one from God; one fasting free from pride, another feasting removed from intemperance and petulance; one attention and assiduity in prayers and spiritual hymns, another the care and protection of those in need: but all bring tears, all purging, all ascent, and all the stretching forth unto the things that are before.

VIII. Simplicity and other virtues, and the bringing of God's tabernacle to completion.

^B VIII. A noble gift, too, is simplicity, and to restrain laughter, to suppress anger, to bridle the eye, and to deny the mind the power of wandering. There is nothing among the things offered to God so small, even if it be of the least moment, even if it falls far short of His dignity, that He does not entirely accept and hold grateful, although He knows how to weigh mercy with just judgment. He accepts both Paul’s planting, as Paul's, and the watering of Apollos, and the widow’s two mites, and the publican’s humility, and the confession of Manasseh. Moses was setting up that tabernacle, constructed according to the heavenly exemplar, upon the earth; and all were contributing what ^C had been announced to them. Furthermore, others of their own accord were bestowing gold, others silver, others precious stones for the adornment of the superhumeral, while the women [were bringing] some twisted byssus, some scarlet woven-work, some purple, some rams' skins dyed red, some goats' hair, the most lowly thing, for the work of the tabernacle; others brought whatever each man or woman happened to have. All were bringing, and no one was exempt, not even the most destitute. In a similar manner, let us also contribute to the precious tabernacle of God, that is, to this Church, which the Lord pitched and ^D not man, and which is built up with varying ornaments of virtue—one bringing something smaller, another something greater, but let us all alike contribute to the perfect work, to the dwelling-place of Christ, to the holy temple, being built together and joined together by the architectural art of the Spirit. For it is surely undoubted that even if we had contributed all things, we would still contribute less than we have received, since our very being is from God, as is the knowledge of God, and the very thing which we bring. And the most beautiful and loving thing of all is that we do not...

measure God’s contribution by the value and dignity of the thing offered, but by the affection and capacity of the one who offers it.

^B IX. Therefore, do not delay being good, but become so at once; and do not, because you fall short of the proper value, fail completely. Rather, offer what you can, be eager for the rest, and for what is lacking, ask that forgiveness be granted to your weakness. *You shall not appear,* it is said, *empty before me.* Let no one, then, be empty, nor fruitless, nor any soul barren and unproductive. Let each person offer to God from what is present, and from what is their own: he who sins, his conversion; he who runs well, his constancy; the young, their self-control; the aged, their wisdom; the rich, their generosity; the poor, their thanksgiving; those in authority, their humility; the tax-collector, his gentleness. Priests, *clothe yourselves with justice,* or, to speak more truly, let us clothe ourselves. Let us not scatter the sheep of the pasture, nor destroy them, for whom the Good Shepherd laid down His life, who knows His own and is known by them, and calls them by name, and leads them in, and leads them out—from unbelief to faith, and from this life to the rest beyond. Let us fear lest the judgment begin with us, according to the threat, and lest we receive from the hand of the Lord "double sins," not only failing to enter ourselves, but also preventing those who are able to enter.

^C X. Sheep, do not shepherd the shepherds, nor rise up above your own boundaries; for it is enough for you if you are well shepherded. Do not judge the judges, nor legislate for the lawgivers; for God is not a God of dissension and confusion, but of peace and order. Therefore, let no one be a head who is hardly a hand, or a foot, or some other lower member of the body; but let each one, brothers, remain in the order in which he was called, even if he be worthy of a better one; for he will have more praise from being content with his present station than from seeking one he has not received. Let no one, while he can follow another without danger, desire to lead with danger; nor let the law of obedience, which guards and preserves both earthly and heavenly things, be broken; and let us not turn the rule of many into anarchy. You who are given to learning, do not trust too much in your learning, nor play the sophist with things that are superfluous and beyond logic, nor desire to conquer in all things; but be willing to be overcome even when it is good. ^D Give to logic its due; make your education a weapon of justice, not of death.

^A XI. "Soldiers, be content with your wages, and demand nothing beyond what is appointed for you." This is what John, that great herald of the truth, the voice ^B that went before the Word, commands you along with us. What does he call wages? The royal provision, surely, and those gifts which, by law, are established for those who hold positions of dignity. But that which is in excess, whose is it? I, for my part, shrink from saying what would be blasphemous; but you, I know, understand, even if I refrain. "Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s." To the one, the tax; to the other, the fear—to you, who are named for the state. And when I say fear, I forbid extortion. What great thing, perhaps you will say, shall we gain from this? The greatest thing of all; and if you wish, with me as mediator, the blessed hopes and the preeminence of the city above, not of this tiny and most insignificant of cities, whose command—to speak quite sparingly as a favor to my nurturer—is hardly grand or glorious. Let us desire to hold first place there; let us strive to attain the splendor of that city. In return for the mercy shown in this life to the distressed, let us rest in the bosom of Abraham; let us judge a righteous judgment; let us rescue the poor and the needy; let us show mercy to the widow and the orphan; let us ransom those being led to slaughter; or, to speak most mildly, let us not lay hands on them ourselves; let us not neglect him who begs for our help, even for the crumbs from the table; and let us not pass by the ulcerous man lying at our gates. Let us not live in luxury while others are suffering, and let us not feel disgust for our fellow servant. Do not, I beseech you, brothers and friends, take the side of that rich man, nor be tormented in the flame, nor be separated by a vast chasm from the assembly of the holy, nor beg in vain from the poor Lazarus ^C to cool our burning tongue with the tip of his finger, and fail to obtain even that. Let us be kind, compassionate, sympathetic; let us emulate the goodness of our Master, who "makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good," and feeds all alike with his rain. Let us not seek to grow wealthy through the poverty of others; let us not fall so far from divine equality; nor let us mix our wealth with another’s tears, by which it will be consumed like rust and moth, or, to use the words of Scripture, vomited forth. But are we more insatiable than we ought to be? There is also a way to be insatiable that is good.

Let us give a little here, that we may be rich and abundant there.

XII. ON THE TRIBUTARY ENUMERATOR

^A These precepts, then, surely, do not concern only those who govern the republic, but look to all men commonly; for the remedies for a common disease are also common. But you, who record our taxes, see that you record us justly. Apply yourself to this, not so that you may carefully and accurately record my speeches—which are of no utility, or very little, perhaps satisfying only the ears—but that you may record my people holily and humanely; if for no other reason, then at least out of reverence for this present time, since the Savior himself was born at the time of an imperial census. ^B For "there went out a decree," he says, "from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be enrolled," and it was being enrolled. And Joseph also went up into Bethlehem with Mary, his espoused wife, to be enrolled, because he was of the house and lineage of David. And at that time the Savior is born—O wondrous thing!—the Creator and Lord of all, in a small and ignoble inn. Let us fear this mystery; let us revere the dispensation, and let us ourselves contribute something at this time. Now the angels rejoice; now the shepherds are dazzled by the brightness of the light; now a star runs from the East toward the greatest and inaccessible light; now the Magi fall down and offer gifts, and acknowledge the King of all, ^C and rightly from the appearance of the star infer the Heavenly One. And now Herod rages, and slaughters children; and because of our Deliverer, he removes from the midst those who were to be brought into liberty. But let us stand among those who worship, and to Him who for our sake became so poor that He even took on a body, let us offer not frankincense, nor gold, nor myrrh (the first as to God, the second as to a King, the third as to One who tasted death for us), but mystical gifts, and such as are beyond what is visible: the gift of taking nothing, of not yielding anything to wealth against poverty, and of not injuring the creature through the creature.

^D XIII. You record with Christ, you spend tax with Christ, you perform the census with the Head, you reckon with the Word. Now Christ is being born for you; He is God, and He becomes man, and He converses with men. What, then, does this discourse mean? Truly, unless the opinion fails me, it admonishes those to whom such duties have been entrusted, that God always enters along with the greatest of administrations. And

indeed, in order to shame and move the registrars, he assumes flesh at that time and associates with men; but that he might bring solace to our servitude and sanction equanimity of mind as if by law (for not even this should be overlooked), he pays the didrachm not only for himself, but also for Peter, the dearest of all the disciples; ^A since he also became man for our sake, and accepted the form of a servant, and was led to death for our iniquities. These things indeed the Savior did, and that too by his own will, for he could have brought us salvation as God, just as he created the entire fabric of the universe by his mere command and authority. But he brought us something greater and more adapted to instill shame, namely, piety and mercy, and the equality of honor. But what of us, the disciples of Christ—of him, I say, who is meek and benign, and who has ministered to us even to such a degree? Shall we not propose for ourselves the piety of the Master to be imitated? Shall we not show ourselves to be benign and easy to our fellow-servants, so that we ourselves might experience such a lord, one who, as we have measured, will measure out to us in return? Shall we not redeem our own souls through gentleness? It is enough that free men are oppressed by servitude, and that there is such a difference ^B between those who have been fashioned from the same mass of earth, that some command and others are held by authority; some impose tribute and others are registered for the sake of tribute; some are permitted to inflict injury and do evil with impunity, while others must labor and contend with prayers so as not to suffer anything; and that these things should happen regarding one and the same image, and one and the same excellence of dignity, regarding heirs of the same life, for whom Christ likewise died. These things, I say, are sufficiently burdensome to free men; let not weight be added to this yoke, nor let any bitterness be added to the penalty by which our first sin was punished.

XIV

result that I should be born in labor and misery, and should live, and die. Hence indigence was born; from indigence came desire, from desire wars, and from wars then tribute, than which there is nothing more grievous or bitter in the divine condemnation. But let us at least, since we are liable to the same punishment, not increase the multitude [of our sins], nor act wickedly toward others. God demands of us mutual kindness toward one another, even if we are being punished by Him.

^B XV. There will also be another registration, and another registrar; unless perhaps you have never heard of a certain book of the living and of those who are perishing. There we shall all be registered, or rather, we are already registered according to the merit of how each one has lived here. ^C Wealth has no advantage there, nor poverty any disadvantage; there is no favor, no hatred, nor any other of all those things by which the honesty and religion of judgments is here subverted and shaken. We are all inscribed by the finger of God, and the book will be opened to us on the day of revelation. Small and great are there, the servant together with the master, to quote Solomon, and the king with the subject, and the registrar with the one being registered, and the splendor near at hand; but I shall pass over in silence that which is altogether impossible to speak. Moreover, in the same way as we have registered others, we ourselves shall also be registered. If you wish to find this registration easy and agreeable, take care to show yourself agreeable and humane to us.

XVI. What do you say to these things? What are you writing, O best of friends, peer and companion to us in training and learning? Even if God has now placed us in a better rank and order (I fear to say, more burdensome), that we might teach you who hold magisterial office—O you who have sprung from a pious land and family, O holy plant of holy parents, O root of holier children—by what means do you receive my words now? Do they sway you? Or will you need to be soothed and, as it were, charmed by a longer oration? ^D I hold it not merely as a conjecture, but as certain and proven that you have long been held fast by my discourses; relying, if on nothing else, certainly on the letters themselves and the learning that always leads you easily to all that is best, whether you are walking of your own accord or following others. For this is that by which the wise surpass the common crowd. I, however, shall add a little more to what has already been said. You have indeed paid the reward for my words, whatever it was you gave; but the oration itself offers you as a gift the poor, a whole choir of priests, a choir of philosophers, held by no bond below, possessing only their own bodies—and not even these entirely—having nothing for Caesar, but everything for God: hymns, prayers, vigils, tears,

ADMONITION REGARDING ORATION XX

and a gathering of philosophers who are bound by no earthly tie, who possess bodies only—and not even those entirely; who have nothing for Caesar, but attribute all things to God—hymns, prayers, vigils, tears, wealth that cannot be seized by hands, to die to the world, to live for Christ, to macerate the flesh, to abstract the soul from the body. By sparing these, or rather by restoring entirely to God the servants of the divine name and those conscious of the mysteries, the inspectors of heavenly things—these, I say, the first-fruits of our race, these pillars, these crowns of faith, these precious pearls, these stones of that temple, whose foundation and cornerstone is Christ—the beautiful, I say, fulfillment of the Church: you would counsel both them, and yourself, and all of us most excellently. And I pray that this wealth might fall to you from us, rather than great treasures of gold and silver, which now exist, and after a little while will not. ^B

XVII. You have the gift of my discourse, if lower than your hope, yet certainly such as we were able to offer. But you, in return for this my dispensation, repay me with what is greater, namely, tractable and obedient minds. Thus, to other benefits let this also be added, that you have less need of my speeches, by truly considering one another unto the stirring up of charity and good works; so that, having attained the kind and humane Scripture from on high, and dancing around the King of all—which alone is the work of those written there—we may offer praise to God, looking upon the one and same glory and splendor of the divinity of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, and exalting it with praises, to whom be glory, and honor, and adoration unto the ages of ages. Amen. ^C

Notice on Oration XX

I. After the death of Gregory’s parents, he himself, according to the more probable opinion, having abdicated the care of the Church of Nazianzus, betook himself to Seleucia in the year 375. There, for three years, he remained almost unknown to men, devoted to solitude, vigils, and the contemplation of heavenly things. But, on account of the fame of his holiness and eloquence, sought by the wishes of very many prelates, and placed by Theodosius the Great in the Constantinopolitan see, around the year 379, he sowed the same seeds of doctrine and piety in the flock entrusted to him. At that time, an incredible, as it were, cohort of errors had invaded Constantinople. Not only heretics, but even the Catholics themselves, were agitating new and dangerous questions concerning divine matters. From the diversity of opinions, quarrels and dissensions arose; and such was the force of minds and the itching of tongues that not only temples, but even the fora and houses, were continually resounding with sacred matters.

II. The Theologian beats back this rashness, and first of all he particularly censures those who, neither instructed in the knowledge of sacred letters, nor commendable for the holiness of their lives, arrogantly ascribed to themselves the name of theologians. By many examples brought forth from Scripture, he shows that it is not permitted for everyone to approach, or to behold, or to touch the Holy of Holies, but only those who have been called by God, and who have offered themselves as a living sacrifice, nay rather, the very [host of God...]

and who have purified their mind and tongue so as to receive the illumination of the Spirit.

ORATION XX. ON DOGMA AND THE CONSTITUTION OF BISHOPS

I. When I look upon the itch for talking that is prevalent at this time, and those "wise men" who have sprung up in the space of a single day, and theologians made by choice and vote, for whom it is enough to have the mere will to be wise, I yearn for the highest philosophy, and I seek, according to Jeremiah, a final refuge, and I desire to be alone with myself. For nothing seems to me as good as this: to silence the senses, to be outside the world and the flesh, touching nothing of human affairs unless under the pressure of absolute necessity, and to converse only with myself and with God, leading a life that is higher than the things that are perceived by sight, and carrying within myself the divine forms and pure images of things, ever free from all earthly and wandering phantoms, ^B and to become, and always remain, a most pure mirror of God and divine things, receiving light from light, and what is clearer from what is more obscure, until we arrive at the fountain of the rays of this life, having the mirrors dissolved by truth, and attaining the blessed end; so that scarcely anyone, even if he exercise himself long in philosophy and discipline, and seek to free the nobility and splendor of his soul from the contagion of the humble and darksome body, and obtain God, or both these things, and by practicing above all else to look upward, might gain the victory over the material which drags him down. But before one has mastered this as much as possible, and sufficiently cleansed both the ears and the mind...

as it were, and who have not first presented themselves to God as a living sacrifice, nay rather, who have not become a holy temple. ^B

II. And that you may not think me over-timid, but rather commend my prudence and judgment, I shall explain the source of this fear. First, I hear Moses himself, at the time when God spoke His oracles to him, saying that although many were summoned to the mountain, of whom one was Aaron with his two sons—those priests—yet all the others were commanded to worship from afar, while Moses alone was to approach closer, and the people were not even to ascend together with him. And, as he narrates a little earlier, the lightnings, the thunders, the sound of the trumpets, the whole mountain smoking, the fearful threats, and similar terrors held them below; so much so that they thought it a great thing merely to hear the voice of God, and that, too, only after having purified themselves with the utmost diligence. But Moses ascends, enters into the cloud, holds communion with God, and receives the Law—for the many, the law of the letter, but for those who rise above the many, the law of the Spirit. ^C

III. Furthermore, I know well what happened to Eli the priest, and shortly after to Uzzah. The former paid the penalty for the transgression which his sons committed against the sacrifices, and this despite the fact that he had not only not approved of their impiety, but had also rebuked them for it many times and in many ways. The latter, because he dared merely to touch the ark when it was jolted by the oxen, preserved it indeed unharmed, but perished himself, God clearly guarding the reverence due to His ark. And I know also that it was not permitted for the masses even to touch the walls of the temple, and that for this reason there had to be other walls to enclose them; nor were the sacrifices themselves to be consumed by whomsoever, whenever, or wherever it was not fitting; much less was it permitted for anyone to approach, look upon, or touch the Holy of Holies, the veil, the mercy-seat, or the ark itself. ^D

IV. Knowing these things, and that no one is worthy of the great God, and the sacrifice, and the high priest, who says that it is our Jesus Christ, but not the Father at this moment—we note this against those who restrict the term "Great" to the Father alone, and assign the secondary portions to the Son; for [he speaks of him] as a sacrifice and high priest, in the one sense as having been slain and having been offered for our salvation, and in the other as not having been [offered] by another, but as having sacrificed himself by his own power and having set himself forth for a voluntary slaughter.

^A And if he has not first presented himself to God as a living sacrifice, or rather, if he has not become a holy and living temple of the living God, how could I readily venture upon discourses about God, or approve of one who does so with rashness? The desire is not commendable; the undertaking is fearful. Therefore, we must first be purified, and only then approach Him who is pure, and hold communion with Him; lest the same fate befall us as befell Manue, and our eyes being bedazzled by the vision of God, we say, "We shall perish, woman, for we have seen God"; or, like Peter, we bid Jesus depart from our boat, as if unworthy of such a visitation; or, like that centurion, we ask for healing, but do not receive the Healer. Let one of us say, as long as he is a centurion, and holds the command of vice over many passions, and still serves under Caesar, the ruler of this world and of those who crawl upon the earth: "I am not worthy that thou shouldst enter under my roof." But when I behold Jesus—though I be small in spiritual stature, like that Zacchaeus, and have raised myself above the sycamore tree, having mortified the members that are upon the earth, and withered the body of lowliness—then will I also receive Jesus, and I shall hear: "Today salvation has come to this house"; and I shall attain salvation, and I shall philosophize upon the more perfect things, dispersing ^B well what I had gathered ill, whether it be wealth or doctrines.

V. Since we have purified the Theologian by our discourse, come, let us now speak briefly about God, relying and leaning for support upon the Father Himself, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, concerning whom we are about to speak. I wish that what happened to Solomon might befall me, that I may neither conceive nor utter anything of God that is mine or my own. For when he uses these words: "I am the most foolish of all men, and the wisdom of man is not in me," he does not mean to condemn himself for lack of understanding. For how could he, who had even asked for this from God before all else, and had received wisdom, and vision, and largeness of heart, more abundant and overflowing than the sand of the sea? And he who is so wise, and has attained such a gift, how does he call himself the most foolish of all men? ^C It is because he had, so to speak, no wisdom of his own, but was moved by the divine and more perfect wisdom. For Paul also, when he said, "I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me," did not speak of himself as if dead, but as one living a life superior to most, in that he had partaken of the true Life, and was surpassed by no death. ^D

We worship, therefore, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, distinguishing their properties, yet uniting the Godhead; and we do not fuse the three into one, lest we suffer the disease of Sabellius; nor do we divide them into three alien and foreign substances, lest we rage with the madness of Arius. For why, like a plant bending in one direction, must we forcibly bend it to the other side, correcting a distortion by a distortion, instead of straightening it towards the middle, and standing within the bounds of piety and orthodox faith? ^B

VI. Furthermore, when I say "the middle," I mean the truth, which we rightly keep alone before our eyes. We reject, therefore, both the evil contraction and this more absurd division; for fear of a multitude of gods, the discourse being contracted into one person, lest it leave us with nothing but naked and empty names, if we imagine that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are the same, and if we settle that these things are not so much one, as that each is nothing (for they would cease to be what they are, as they pass into and migrate into one another); or, on the other hand, for fear of falling into three strange, disparate, and disjointed natures, separated according to the rightly named madness of Arius, or into [natures] devoid of principium and inordinate, and, if I may so speak, contrary to the Godhead; so that, on the one hand, it is enclosed within a certain Jewish parsimony—if we limit the Godhead to the Unbegotten alone—and, on the other hand, it falls into the opposite, but no less pernicious, evil—if we constitute three principles and three Gods, which is even more absurd than the former error. For truly, it is not fitting that some should be such lovers of the Father that they take away from him his being Father; for of whom could he be the Father, if the Son were said to be different in nature from him, and alienated along with the rest of the creation? Nor, again, that they should be such lovers of Christ that they do not even preserve for him the name of Son; for whose Son, I ask, could he be, if he is not referred to the Father as to his source? Nor, finally, should they diminish the dignity of principium which the Father has as Father and begetter; for it would be a principium of small and unworthy things, were he not the cause of the Godhead which is contemplated in the Son and the Spirit. Since we must both preserve the one God and confess the three hypostases—or, if you will, the three persons—each with its own property. ^D

^A

VII. Thus, in my opinion, the one God will be preserved if we refer the Son and the Holy Spirit to one cause, without compounding them or commingling them; and if we understand one and the same—if I may use the term—movement and volition of the Divinity, and the identity of its essence. We shall hold to the three persons, provided that no commingling, or dissolution, or confusion is thought of, lest otherwise the whole should be overturned by those who extol the unity more than is right. Finally, the account of the properties will be established for us if we consider the Father both as without beginning and as a beginning—a beginning, I say, as the cause, and as the fountain, and as the eternal light; but the Son, though by no means without beginning, yet as the beginning of all things. When I say "beginning," do not introduce time, nor set any interval between the Begetter and the Begotten, nor divide the nature by anything wrongly inserted into things that are co-eternal and conjoined. For if time were older than the Son, then the Father would of necessity have been his cause first. And how could he who is subject to time be the Creator of times? And how could he be the Lord of all, if he were preceded and dominated by time? The Father, therefore, is without beginning, for he does not have his being from another, nor from himself. ^B The Son, however, if you take the Father as his cause, is not without beginning, for the Father is the beginning of the Son as his cause; but if you understand beginning in terms of time, he is indeed without beginning, for the Master of times is not subject to time.

VIII. But if, because bodies are subject to time, you therefore demand that the Son also be subject to time, you will then be attributing a body to the incorporeal; and if, because things that are begotten among us, being once non-existent, later come into being, you therefore insist that the Son also necessarily came into the nature of things out of nothing, you are comparing things that defy all comparison: God and man, body and that which is devoid of body. Therefore, he will also suffer and dissolve and pass away, just as our bodies do. You, then, consider that for this reason God must be begotten in such a manner, because bodies are; I, however, for this reason do not—

affirm that he is begotten in such a manner, because that is the way of begetting bodies (for those whose nature is distinct, their mode of begetting is also distinct); unless you would contend that God must also in all other things serve the material laws—that is, that He must suffer, and dwell in sorrow, and labor with hunger and thirst, and experience all those affections to which the nature of the body, or of both parts combined, is subject. Yet your mind does not admit these things; for it is God of whom we speak. Do not, therefore, admit this generation in any other way than as divine.

IX. But if he is begotten, you ask, how is he begotten? Reply to me, O acute and invincible sophist. If he is created, how is he created? And afterwards, inquire of me how he is begotten. Is there passion, you might say, in generation? I say, there is also passion in creation. For does not the formation and the care, and the extension—which, having been thought of at once and suddenly, is then carried out in parts—involve the notion of passion? Is there time in generation? Those things that are created are also in time. Is there a place there? There is also a place here. Is there a frustration of hope in generation? Creation also sometimes frustrates hope. These things I have heard from you in your dissertations; for what the mind has sketched out, the hand ^B has often failed to execute. You will say: "He created all things by word and will; for He spoke, and they were made; He commanded, and they were created." But when you say that all things were created by the word of God, you do not introduce human creation; for none of us accomplishes what we do by word. There would be nothing higher or more excellent for us, nor less laborious, if we could accomplish something by speech alone. Wherefore, even if God creates those things which are created by His word, His method of creating is not human. ^C Either show me a human being who accomplishes something by speech, or grant me that God does not create in a human manner. But if you think otherwise, come, sketch a city by your will, and let the city at once stand present. Wish for a son to be born to you, and let a boy immediately stand before you. Wish for any other thing that is made by hands, and let your will immediately pass into a work. But if none of these things follows our will, while for God His will is action, it is clear that man creates in one way, and God, the Creator of all things, in another. What, then, is this logic, that while God procreates in a way other than human, He should be compelled to beget in a human ^D manner? You, indeed, since you were not before, were then brought into being, and then you beget; for this reason you bring what is not into existence. Or—to say something deeper—perhaps you do not even bring that into existence from what is not; for even Levi, as it is said, was still in the loins of his father before he passed into existence. And let no one take offense at the word. For I do not say the Son exists from the Father in such a way as though He were previously within the Father and afterwards passed into existence; nor as if He were first imperfect and then perfect, as is the law of our own generation.

^A X. These are the ways of those who delight in detraction and calumny; these are the ways of those who readily leap upon everything that is said. But we do not think in this way, nor do we so judge; but we profess that just as the Father was in an unbegotten manner (and He always was, for the mind cannot contemplate Him as having ever not been, however much it may exalt itself), so too the Son was by generation; so that the being of the Father coincides with the generation of the Only-Begotten, who is indeed from Him, but not after Him, except perhaps by the sole thought of a principle. I use the word "principle" here to mean "cause." For I repeat the same words over and over, fearing the thickness and materiality of your understanding. If, ^B then, you do not curiously pry into the Son—whether one ought to call it generation, or subsistence, or some other term more appropriate than these (for what is understood and said surpasses my tongue)—do not curiously pry into the procession of the Spirit either. It is enough for me to hear that He is the Son, and that He is from the Father; and that the one is the Father, and the other the Son; and I do not curiously pry into anything beyond this, lest I suffer the same fate as voices which completely fail through being shouted too loudly, or as the eye strained ^C toward a sunbeam. For the more and the more accurately anyone wishes to see, the more his sense is injured, and he is deprived of the ability to see altogether, because the object of sight overcomes the vision if one desires to see the whole, and not just as much as it is safe to see.

XI. Do you hear of generation? Do not curiously inquire into the manner of it. Do you hear that the Spirit proceeds from the Father? Do not curiously investigate how this happens. But if you are curious in investigating the generation of the Son and the procession of the Spirit, I, too, with equal curiosity, will investigate the union and temperament of your soul ^D and body. How are you dust, and yet the image of God? What is that which moves you, or what is that which is moved? How does the same thing both move and is moved? How does the sense remain in the same, while it draws in what is external? How does the mind remain in you, and generate a word in another mind? How is a thought imparted through a word? And I do not yet speak of greater things: What is the revolution of the heaven? What is the motion of the stars, or their order, or measures, or conjunction, or distance? What are the boundaries of the sea? Whence come the currents of winds, or the turnings of the seasons, or the downpours of rain? If you have understood none of these, O man (for...

perhaps you will perceive them eventually, when you have attained perfection: "For I will see," he says, "the heavens, the work of Thy fingers" [Ps. VIII, 4]; so that we may conjecture that the things we now see are not the truth itself, but merely certain images of the truth); if you do not know yourself, whoever you are, you who dispute about these matters, if you have not yet comprehended in your intellect things of which your own senses are witnesses, how, pray, do you presume that you surely hold and know what God is, and how great He is? This is indeed a sign of great folly. ^A And you will realize this, perhaps, at some time, when you attain the perfect state.

XII. Therefore, if you will obey me at all—me, who am a theologian of no audacity, yet have already perceived some things—ask that you may also perceive those things that remain. Be content with that part which abides in you; let the other remain stored up in the heavenly treasuries. Ascend through the probity of your life; through purification, attain to Him who is pure. Do you wish to become a theologian at some time, and worthy of the Godhead? Keep the commandments; advance through the precepts of God; for action is the stepping-stone to contemplation; ^B exert yourself in the soul from the body. Is there any mortal who can be exalted to such a height as to reach the measure of Paul? Yet he says that he sees through a glass and in an enigma [I Cor. XIII, 12], and that there is a time when he shall see face to face. Are you, then, perhaps more sublime than others in disputation? Yet you are undoubtedly inferior to God. Are you, perhaps, more acute and perceptive than others? Yet you are certainly as far behind the truth as the essence of God surpasses your own essence. We have the promise that we shall one day know as we have been known [I Cor. XIII, 12]. If it is not possible to achieve perfect knowledge of all things in this life, what is left for me? What is set in hope? You will undoubtedly say, the Kingdom of Heaven. But I consider that to be nothing else than the attainment of that which is most pure ^C and most perfect. Furthermore, the most perfect of all things is the knowledge of God. Let us therefore hold part of it now, and part of it we should strive to perceive as long as we dwell on earth, and part of it we should reserve for the future age, so that we may possess this as the fruit of our labor and industry, even the whole illumination of the holy Trinity, which is—and what sort it is, and how great it is, if it is permitted to say this—in Christ Himself, our Lord, to whom be glory and power ^D for ever and ever. Amen.

may we have the fruit, namely the full illumination of the holy Trinity, whatever that may be, and of what kind, and how great, if it is permissible to speak thus, in Christ our Lord himself, to whom be glory and empire for ever and ever. Amen.

385 MONITUM ON ORATIONE XXI

I. In this panegyric oration, which Jerome mentions (22), and which Eulogius of Alexandria commends honorably (23), Gregory follows the praises of the great Athanasius. So great indeed was the fame of his holiness that the orator in the very beginning professes that, “in praising Athanasius, one is praising virtue.” And certainly, comparing the most holy bishop with the excellent men of the Old and New Testaments, he shows him in no way inferior to their virtues. “For some,” he says (n. 4), “he equaled, from some he was a little removed, and some he even surpassed.” And then, treating the chief chapters of his life, he shows how great and how illustrious were his achievements against the errors of Arius in the Nicene synod, how many exiles his invincible faith endured, with what equipment and with what a concourse of men he was received in the city upon his return from exile; and, to express it in a word, this oration includes so many and such excellent deeds of Athanasius that one can hardly long for the history which this most invincible champion of the Catholic faith had wished to write, but which was either lost or not written. He relates more besides concerning the life and morals of the emperors Constantius and Julian, and concerning the audacity of Arius and the fitting end of his impiety; and whatever should be thought concerning the true and most holy Trinity, by weaving it wonderfully into the praises of Athanasius, he confounds and agitates the followers of Sabellius and Arius on every side.

II. Learned men believe this oration to have been delivered at Constantinople. Such is the opinion of Nicetas and Tillemont (24). And this is gathered from these words of the Theologian (n. 5): “Neither is it pious,” he says, “nor is it safe, when the life of impious men is being committed to memory, to pass over in silence those who are excellent in piety; especially in that city which even many examples of piety can scarcely preserve; seeing that it treats divine things as a pastime, just as it does the circus and the theaters.” For by these final words the other Rome is designated. Furthermore, Gregory speaks in the same manner in Oration XXII, *On Peace* (n. 8), which no one doubts was delivered at Constantinople. These things also harmonize best with what the monuments of history report about Constantinople (25). We also believe that it was delivered on the second of May, on which day the memory of Athanasius is celebrated by Greeks and Latins alike. For it is agreed, as Gregory testifies in his encomium on Cyprian, that the memory of the martyrs was celebrated with annual and solemn festivals. From which it is permissible to conjecture that this oration was delivered on the anniversary of Athanasius’s feast. In what year, however, is not so clear. If one trusts Tillemont (26), the year appears to be 379. Yet we do not assert this so confidently as to think it could not be deferred to the following year.

LOGOS XXI. ^A In Praise of the Great Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria

I. In praising Athanasius, I shall be praising virtue. For it is the same to speak of him as it is to praise virtue, since he possessed all virtues gathered into one, or, to speak more truly, he possesses them. For all who have lived according to God live to God, even...

^A if they have migrated from this life. Hence he is called "the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob," as the God of the living, not of the dead. But when I praise virtue, I am praising God, from whom virtue flows to men, and by whom they are raised, or rather brought back, to Him through a kindred illumination. For while the things we have and shall have from God are many and great—so many and so great, indeed, that no one can encompass them in speech—the greatest and most philanthropic of all is this: the inclination toward Him and the intimacy with Him. For what the sun is to sensible things, that God is to things understood by the mind and reason. For the former illuminates the visible world, the latter the invisible; the former makes the eyes of the body sun-like, the latter makes the intellectual natures God-like ^B. And just as the sun is the most beautiful of visible things, both for those who see and those that are seen, providing to the former the power to see and to the latter the capacity to be seen, so God is the supreme vertex of all things intelligible, to whom all desire comes to rest, and beyond whom one can be borne nowhere. For the mind, however philosophical, however high-reaching, and however insatiably curious it may be, neither possesses nor will ever possess anything higher. For this is the ultimate limit of all things to be desired; having reached this, all speculation will find its rest.

II. Whosoever, therefore, has been able, through reason and contemplation, to break through this earthly mass and loosen this carnal cloud—or veil, if one should call it that—in order to have communion with God and be mingled with the purest light ^C, as much as is granted to human nature, that person must be pronounced blessed by a double title: both because he has ascended from here, and because he has attained that deification which a true and sincere pursuit of philosophy provides, and an elevation of the mind above the earthly binary, on account of that unity which we understand in the Trinity. But he who, due to the soul’s conjunction with the body, has become the worse, and has so clung to the mire that he is unable to direct the keen gaze of his mind toward the rays of truth, nor to rise above these lower things, even though he has drawn his origin from above and is called toward the things above—I deem such a person miserable for his blindness, even if the affairs of this life flow for him according to his heart's desire; and he is all the more miserable the more he is toyed with by his prosperity, ^D and is persuaded that some other thing is "good" before the true Good, plucking the evil fruit of an evil opinion; so that he is either condemned to darkness or, like someone who has not known what is light, sees fire instead of light.

^A III. These things have been pondered by a few, both of our own time and of old (for few are God’s, even if all are His creations), by lawgivers, commanders, priests, prophets, evangelists, apostles, shepherds, teachers, and by every spiritual fullness and assembly; and among them all, by the one now being praised. Whom, then, do I call these? That Enoch, Noe, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, the twelve patriarchs, Moses, Aaron, Josue, the Judges, Samuel, David, Solomon for a time, Elias, Eliseus, the prophets who preceded the captivity and those who existed after it; and those last in order, but first in truth—all that concerned the Incarnation, or taking up of flesh, of Christ: the lamp before the Light, the voice before the Word, the mediator before the Mediator—that is, the illustrious John, who stood in the middle between the Old and New Testaments; the disciples of Christ, and finally those who after Christ either presided over the people, or became manifest through speech and doctrine, or were distinguished by miracles, or brought to perfection by blood. ^{B D} IV. Athanasius equaled some of these, was a little behind others, and even surpassed some—if it does not seem too bold for me to say so. Imitating the speech of some, the action of others, the gentleness of some, the zeal of others, the struggles of others, and from many, all things—gathering from one and another just as those who paint forms or likenesses with singular study and elegance—he brought them into his own soul and produced from them all one perfect image of virtue. He set himself to be such that he would overcome those skilled in speech by his action, and those skilled in action by his speech; or if you prefer, he would surpass in doctrine those who were glorious in doctrine, and in action those who were most fit for affairs. And he was superior to those who had mediocre praise in both kinds, because he excelled to the highest degree in one of them; and again, he was superior to those who excelled greatly in only one kind, in that he was powerful in both virtues. And if it is a great and honorable thing for those who preceded him that they provided him an example of virtue, it ought certainly to be counted no less glorious for our subject that he himself became an example to those who came after him. ^D V. To pursue and praise the whole of his life in speech would perhaps be a longer task than the structure of this oration allows, and is rather a work of history than of encomium, a work which I desire—as if in

^A writing the life of that divine Antony—to set forth the law of the monastic life under the guise of a narrative. But having gone through a few things out of many of his, and such as memory happens now to suggest to us as more familiar, that we may both discharge our own longing and fulfill what is fitting for this festival, we shall leave the greater part to those who know them. For it is neither holy nor safe otherwise that while the lives of impious men are handed down to memory, those who have excelled in piety should be passed over in silence; and this too in a city which even many examples of virtue could scarcely save, since it treats divine things just as it does the races and the theaters.

^B VI. He therefore, having been educated and disciplined in divine ways from the very first, having applied himself to the liberal arts for but a short space of time—so as not to appear entirely unacquainted with such things, nor ignorant of what he had determined to despise—did not suffer his noble and excellent disposition to be occupied with vain studies, nor to be affected in the same way as unskilled athletes, who, by striking the air more than their bodies, are frustrated of their prize. And having meditated upon all the books of the Old and New Testaments as no one else had, he is enriched with contemplation, and enriched with brilliance of life, and he weaves both together marvelously, a truly golden chain, and one that most people can scarcely link; for he used life as a guide to contemplation, and contemplation as a seal upon life. For the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, as a kind of first swaddling band; and wisdom, having surpassed fear and raised us up to love, makes us friends of God and children instead of slaves.

^C VII. Thus, then, educated and instructed as those who are to be leaders of the people and to handle the great body of Christ must also be today, according to the great counsel and foreknowledge of God, who prepares the material of great events from afar, he is enrolled into this great order of priests, and is written into the number of those who draw near to the One who draws near to God, and is honored with the dignity of a sacred station and order; and having passed through the whole succession of degrees, that I may cut short what is in between, he is entrusted with the presidency of the people—or to say the same thing, the oversight of the whole world. And I cannot tell whether he received this dignity as a reward of virtue, or because he was to be the fountain and life of the Church. For it was necessary that this, which was failing from thirst for the truth, should be watered, like Ishmael.

^A or refreshed like Elijah, by the torrent, when the earth was parched by drought, and that what was breathing faintly should be revived, and a seed be left for Israel: that we might not become as Sodom and Gomorrah, whose wickedness was notorious, but their destruction more notorious, overwhelmed and buried, as they were, by fire and brimstone. For this reason, a horn of salvation was raised for us who were already lying low, and a corner-stone, binding us both to Himself and to each other, was cast in at the opportune time; or a fire, a purifier of base and wretched matter, or a farmer’s winnowing-fan, by which the light and the heavy doctrines are distinguished, or a sword cutting out the roots of wickedness; and so the Word finds His own ally, and the Spirit finds one who breathes on His behalf.

VIII. Thus, then, and for these reasons, by the vote of the whole people, not according to the evil pattern which later prevailed, nor by force and slaughter, but in an apostolic and spiritual manner, he is raised to the throne of Mark, being a successor no less in piety than in the chair; for while he is removed from him in time, he is found close to him in piety; which is precisely what must be deemed a succession. For he who professes the same doctrine of faith is also a partner in the same throne; but he who holds the opposite view ^B must be considered an adversary upon the throne. The former has the name, but the latter has the very reality and truth of succession. For not he who has forced his way in is to be held the successor, but he who has suffered the force; nor he who has violated the laws, but he who has been appointed legally; nor he who holds contrary dogmas, but he who is of the same faith; unless one might perhaps call a disease the successor to health, and darkness to light, and a storm to tranquility, and madness to prudence.

IX. And since he is appointed in this way, he administers his office ^C in this same way. For he does not, as soon as he attains the throne, behave like those who have seized some tyranny or inheritance beyond their expectation, and immediately break out into insolence due to satiety. For this is the way of spurious and surreptitious priests, and those unworthy of the profession; who, having brought nothing to the priesthood, and having undergone no struggles for the sake of virtue, are revealed at once as both disciples and teachers ^D of piety, and cleanse others before they have been cleansed themselves: yesterday temple-robbers, and today priests; yesterday outside the holy things, and today leaders in the mysteries; yesterday old in wickedness, and today novices in piety.

^A This is a work of human favor, not of the Spirit; those who, when they have pressed through all things, end by playing the tyrant even over piety. Regarding them, it is not the character that is trusted for the rank, but the rank for the character, with the order being greatly inverted. Most of them owe sacrifices on their own behalf rather than for the trespasses of the people; and they assuredly commit one of two sins: either out of a need for indulgence themselves, they are excessively indulgent to others—so that vice is not only not repressed, but is even taught—or, by the harshness of their authority, they hide their own sins. Athanasius avoided both of these. He was sublime in life, but humble in spirit; and he possessed such virtue that no one could aspire to it, yet such affability that easy access to his company was open to all. He was gentle, not given to anger, inclined toward compassion, delightful in speech, yet more delightful in character; angelic in appearance, and more angelic in his soul. In rebuking, he was calm; in praising, he had the power to instruct; so moderating both that he weakened neither through immoderation, but his rebuke attained to paternal kindness, and his praise to the gravity worthy of authority. Neither was his tenderness dissolute, nor his severity rigid and gloomy; rather, the former earned the name of ^B affability and kindness, and the latter that of prudence, while both attained the praise of wisdom. He so conducted himself that he had no great need of words, since his character was abundantly sufficient for instruction; nor, again, did he have much need of the rod, because of his power and faculty of speech; and far less did he need the knife, because the rod struck with moderation.

X. But what purpose does it serve for me to describe the man to you? Paul has anticipated me and depicted him; whether when he proclaims that great High Priest who has passed through the heavens (for my discourse will not hesitate to go even so far as this, since Scripture knows how to call those who live according to Christ 'Christs'), ^C or when, in the epistle he writes to Timothy, he imposes laws and formulates and informs the one who is to be a leader of the Church. For if you were to apply that law as a sort of rule to the one who is praised in those matters, you will clearly perceive his rectitude. Come then, and take up with me the office of praise. For I toil with my discourse, and I desire to pass over many things; but now I am detained by one thing, now by another, and I cannot find what is most excellent, just as in a body that is equally and elegantly formed in every part. For as each thing occurs to me, so it appears more beautiful and excellent, and draws the discourse toward itself. ^D Make haste, therefore, all you who are heralds and witnesses of his praises, and engage in a noble contest with one another—men together with women, young men and virgins, old men with the young, priests and people, the monastic and the mixed multitude, those who possess simplicity and those who possess exactness, all...

all those indeed whose life is spent either in contemplation or in the conduct of affairs. Let one praise his assiduity in fasts and prayers, as of one free from body and matter; another his vigor, invincible in vigils and psalms. Let one tell of his care and protection for the needy; another of his opposition to the arrogant, or his condescension to the humble. Let virgins praise him as their bridesman; those under the yoke, as their guide to temperance; those in the desert, as their awakener; those in society, as their lawgiver; the simple, as their leader; those given to contemplation, as their theologian; those in prosperity, as their bridle; those in misfortune, as their consolation. Let old age praise him as its staff; youth as its instructor; poverty as its provider; wealth as its steward. It seems to me that widows, too, will praise him as their patron; orphans as their father; the poor as their lover of the poor; strangers as their host; brothers as a lover of the brothers; the sick as their physician, for whatever disease or medicine you may name; the healthy as the guardian of their health; and all men as him who became all things to all men, that he might gain all, or at least the many.

^B XI. As I said, let others admire and celebrate these things, those who have the leisure to admire the lesser things of his life. And when I say "lesser," I say it by comparing him with himself, and by weighing his own virtues against his own virtues (for that which has been glorified has not been glorified, even if it is exceedingly brilliant, because of the surpassing glory, as we have heard); since even a few of his qualities are sufficient to bring glory to others. But for us—for it is not to be endured that we, leaving the Word, should minister to lesser matters—we must turn to the highest peak of his praises. And it is the work of God, for whom this discourse is intended, to speak something worthy of his grand eloquence and his soul.

^D XII. There was a time when our affairs were flourishing and in a good state, when this superfluous and glib method of discussing theology, and this studied art, did not even have access to the divine courts. Rather, it was the same thing to play with pebbles, which cheat the sight by the speed of their movement, or to dance before spectators with all sorts of effeminate twists of the body, and to speak and hear something new and curious regarding God; while the simple [...]

and noble speech ^A and doctrine was considered piety. But after the Sexti and Pyrrhones, and the tongue spurred by the desire to contradict, crept like some grave and malignant disease into our Churches to our great harm, and empty talk brought the reputation of learning, and, as the book of Acts relates of the Athenians, we have leisure for nothing else than to speak or hear something new (83). O, who is there that will lament our confusion and darkness like Jeremiah, he alone who knows how to make lamentations equal to our calamities! ^B

XIII. Arius, indeed, he who has his name from that madness, gave the beginning to this fury, he who also paid the penalty for his petulant and unbridled tongue, dying in obscene and impure places, overcome not by disease but by his prayers, and suffering a rupture like Judas for the same betrayal of the Word. But others, receiving this disease, created an art of impiety; for, by circumscribing the Godhead by the Unbegotten, they banished not only the Begotten, but even the Proceeding, from the bounds of the divine nature, honoring the Trinity only by a community of name, or not even maintaining that for It. But not so that blessed man, that true man of God, and great trumpet of truth. Nay rather, since he perceived clearly that to contract these three into the number one is the mark of impious error and the new dogma of Sabellius, who first devised the contraction of the Godhead; and again, that to divide the three into natures is nothing else than to introduce a monstrous dissection of the Godhead; he held to this method: to preserve the one, as far as the Godhead is concerned, most beautifully, and to teach the three, as far as the properties are concerned, piously; neither confusing the Godhead by the one, nor distracting it by the three, but remaining within the bounds of piety, avoiding excessive inclination and opposition in either direction. ^C

XIV. And for this reason, he first, in that holy Council of Nicaea (87), and with that number of three hundred and eighteen chosen men (88), whom the Holy Spirit had gathered into one, checked the disease as much as lay in his power; not yet having been enrolled among the bishops, but holding the first place among those who had assembled. For such was the state of affairs at that time, that one was judged by the excellence of honor no less through virtue than through the dignity of grade. Then, since this evil had now been stirred up and inflamed by the bellows of that wicked man, and was invading the greater part of the world (for truly, here were the tragedies of which almost the whole earth and sea are full), great was the war around ^D him, as being a noble champion…

^A of the Word (for the battle is most fierce against the one who resists, and from every side some other danger flows; for impiety is a fountain 91 of evils and is exceedingly daring in its undertakings—but how were they going to spare men, they who did not spare the Divinity?). But one of these onslaughts was the most grievous of all. I myself also contribute something to the drama, but let my beloved parent soil be excused 94 by me: for the wickedness belongs not to the land that bore us, but to those who chose it. For the one is holy and known to all for its piety, while the others are unworthy of the Church that bore them. You have heard that a thorn also grows in the vineyard 96; and Judas, one of the disciples, was a traitor.

XV. Now, there are those who do not even spare my namesake 97 from accusation—he who, for the love of learning, was at that time sojourning in the city of the Alexandrians, and having received total kindness from him, being valued as highly as a most beloved son, and being one of those trusted with the greatest matters, did, as they say, plot an insurrection against his father and protector 98. And the drama was indeed that of others, but the hand was Absalom’s, as the saying goes. If any of you know 99 of the hand, for which the holy man was falsely maligned, and of the living dead man, and the unjust exile, you know what I mean. However, I will gladly forget this. For I am so disposed in doubtful matters that I believe it is better to incline toward kindness and humanity, and to acquit the accused rather than condemn them. For the bad man is very quick to condemn even the good man, but the good man does not even easily condemn the bad. For he is not ready for wickedness, nor is he prone to suspicion. But this is no longer a mere report, but an actual fact, and not a suspicion that defies investigation, but a conviction grounded on most certain proofs. Indeed, I shall tell that too.

XVI. Some Cappadocian monster, springing from the furthest reaches of our land, evil in race, worse in mind, not entirely free, but mixed, such as we know the mule to be ^C… ^D

^A in nature; at first a slave to a strange table, a creature to be bought with a morsel, who had learned to do and say everything for the sake of his belly; and finally, having crept into political life, and having been entrusted with the lowest duties of this office—that is, the reception of the pork with which the military crowds are fed—and then having turned out to be wicked regarding the faith, and having lived only for his belly, since the body was all that was left to him, he conceives a plan of flight. ^B Exchanging one region and city for another, as is the way of fugitives, he comes at last to Alexandria, to the common ruin of the Church, like some Egyptian plague. Here he ceases his wandering, but begins his wickedness and craft. Otherwise he was of no value: not schooled in the liberal arts, not witty in gathering or conversation, not even wearing the mask or empty semblance of piety, but most apt for undertaking crimes and throwing affairs into confusion.

XVII. You all know and tell of the insolent acts he committed against that holy man. For very often the just are delivered into the hands and power of the impious, not that the latter may be honored, but that the virtue of the former may be tested. And although the death of the wicked is most foul, as Scripture testifies, yet for the present the cultivators of piety are mocked, while the goodness of God is ^C hidden for a time, and the great storehouses of the things which are laid up for both in the future remain concealed. Then, when word and action and thought shall be weighed in the just scales of God, when He Himself arises to judge the earth, gathering together the counsel and the works, and revealing and bringing into the midst the things which have been stored up and sealed by Him—let this persuade you, both by his speech and by his torment, that man, Job, who was a true man, blameless, just, pious, and whatever else is testified of him in Scripture; yet he is shaken by such and so many dense and ^D repeated assaults from him who had begged for his trial, that—although many from the whole of human memory have often fallen into calamities, and indeed, as is probable, some have been vexed and afflicted—no one can be compared with his calamities. For he was deprived not only of money and lands and splendid, numerous offspring, which are things desirable to all men—not only of these, so that there was no room for mourning due to the continuity of his evils—but at the last, struck in his very body with an incurable and grievous

^A affliction, dreadful even to behold, he had for the culmination of his calamity his wife, who consoled him in a way worse and more grievous than his troubles; for she acted so offensively that to the bodily blow was added a wound of the soul. Moreover, even his most sincere friends, to use his own words, he had as "consolers of evils," not as ones who drove them away; for when they perceived his pain, but did not understand the mystery of the pain, they remained in the opinion that this blow had been inflicted upon him not for the testing of virtue, but for the punishment of wickedness. Why do I say "to think"? Nay, they did not even fear to reproach him for his calamity; and that at a time when, even if he were paying the penalty for sin, it was fitting to deceive and mitigate his anguish with soothing words.

^B XVIII. In this state, then, was Job, and the principles of the divine dispensation regarding him were as follows. For virtue was contending against the envious spirit. The latter struggled with all its might to overcome virtue; the former endured all things to remain unconquered. And the latter laboured to build an easy path for vice through the torment of the just; the former, on the contrary, laboured to retain the good as superior, even in their calamities. But what of Him who gave oracles to him through the whirlwind and clouds, the One slow to punish and quick to help, who does not wholly cast the rod of sinners into the lot of the just, lest the just learn wickedness? At the end of the trials, He proclaims His athlete as victor with a glorious pronouncement, and unveils the secret of the affliction, saying: "Do you think that I have dealt with you in this way for any other reason than that your justice might be made manifest?" This is the medicine for the wounds, this is the crown of the contest, this is the reward of patience. For what followed, though perhaps small, even if it seems great to some, and though it were ordained for the sake of small men, yet he received back even double what had been taken away.

^C XIX. Consequently, it should not be considered a wonder here if George fared better in his condition than Athanasius; but it would have been more worthy of wonder if the just man had not been tested by the fires of injuries and calumnies. Indeed, not even this is a matter of great wonder; but it would rather have excited admiration if he had been prolonged for a great duration in those flames. Hence he changes his ground and arranges his exile most splendidly. For he betakes himself to those sacred and divine monasteries of Egypt, in which men

^A who occupy themselves in the body—some spending a life entirely set apart and inaccessible, conversing only with themselves and with God, knowing no other adornment than that which they recognize in the desert; others preserving the law of love through fellowship, being at once hermits and cenobites, dying to other men and to all the affairs that are bandied about in the world, whirling and being whirled, and playing with us by their sudden shifts, but being an adornment to one another, and sharpening virtue by their mutual contact. Having associated with these, the great Athanasius was, as it were, the mediator and reconciler of all other things, ^B imitating Him who made peace by His blood between those things which were at variance; thus he also reconciles the eremitic life with the communal one, showing that there is such a thing as a priesthood that is philosophical, and a philosophy that needs initiation into the mysteries.

XX. For thus he harmonized both, and brought them into one, even active tranquillity and tranquil activity, so as to persuade all that the profession of the monastic life is characterized more by the gravity and constancy of one’s conduct than by the withdrawal of the body. To which opinion that great David also truly held—he who was most practical and yet most solitary; ^C if to anyone that text, "I am alone, until I pass over," seems to have great weight and credibility in proof of my position. For this reason, while excelling others in virtue, they were further removed from his mind than they were ahead of the others; and bringing few things to the perfection of the priesthood, they received many more for the utility of philosophy; and they attributed so much to him that whatever pleased him, they held as law, and conversely, they considered whatever he disapproved of by his judgment to be forbidden and interdicted to them, and they regarded his decrees as Mosaic tablets, and treated him with a veneration greater than that which appears to be owed to holy men. For when certain persons betook ^D themselves to that place to track down the pious man just as if he were a wild beast, and, having sought him everywhere, could not find him, they did not even deign to speak to those who had been sent; but they offered their necks to the swords, as if in danger for Christ, and considering the suffering of some irreparable harm for his sake to be the greatest portion of philosophy—far more divine and loftier than long fasts, lying on the ground, and the other bodily afflictions which those men always keep as their perpetual delight.

^A He, then, was engaged in these studies, confirming that of Solomon, who taught that there is a time for every matter. And for this reason he hid himself for a short time, escaping the season determined for war, so that he might appear together with the one coming in the time of peace—which is what, indeed, happened shortly afterwards. But George, with no one now checking his onslaught, ravages Egypt with his incursions and lays waste to Syria with the might of his impiety. He seizes also as much of the East as he can, taking to himself daily those who are lax and languid, just as mountain torrents gather what flows along with them, setting upon those who are more unstable or cowardly. He ^B even wins over the simplicity of the Emperor—for thus I term his levity, out of respect for his piety. For, if one must tell the truth, he had a zeal, but not according to knowledge. He buys off among the authorities those who were lovers of gold rather than lovers of Christ (for the means of the poor were at his disposal, poorly spent), and among these, most especially those who were womanish and unmanly among men, and of doubtful character through and through, yet manifest in their impiety; to whom, I do not know how or whence, the Roman Emperors entrust the affairs of men, while they are trusted with the affairs of women. ^C And such was the strength of this minister of the evil one, this sower of tares, this forerunner of Antichrist; he so divided the business that he might use a certain bishop—at that time the most eloquent—as a tongue (if one may indeed please to call him eloquent, who was not so much an impious heretic as a hater and one aflame with the spirit of contention; for I will intentionally pass over his name); but he himself, being like a hand for the party, would overthrow the truth with gold—gold which had been collected for pious uses, but which wicked men turned into an instrument of impiety.

^D XXII. The result of this power was that council which was gathered first at Seleucia, where the shrine of the holy and illustrious virgin Thecla is, and afterwards in this great city—cities which, previously renowned for the most beautiful names, he made famous and illustrious by the notoriety of most disgraceful deeds; whether we call it the Tower of Chalane, which rightly divided the tongues (would that they were divided likewise, since their concord is for evil!), or the council of Caiaphas, by which Christ is condemned, or by whatever other name this assembly must be called, which overturned and threw everything into confusion. For the pious doctrine...

^A and the patron of the Trinity, having broken down the rampart and shaken the "consubstantial" by siege engines, it brought to naught. But for impiety, through the ambiguity of a written dogma, it opened a door, under the pretext that it revered Scripture and embraced the use of the most approved terms, but in reality substituting for it an unwritten Arianism which is found in no passage of Scripture. For these words, "Like according to the Scriptures," were a bait for the simpler sort, cast around the hook of impiety; an image turning itself toward all who pass by, a buskin common to both feet, a winnowing before every wind, having obtained authority for a newly written malice, and a device against the truth. For they were wise to do evil, but to do good they knew not.

XXIII. From this came that subtle and captious condemnation of the heretics, whom in word they denounced ^B so that their undertaking might be more plausible, but in deed they brought them forward. They did not charge them with boundless impiety, but with an insatiable longing for writing (*syggraphē*). From this came the profane judges of holy men, and that strange mixture: a public spectacle, yet involving mystical questions, handled by the common folk, and an iniquitous inquiry into past deeds, and hired sycophants, and sentences pronounced for a fixed price. From this some were unjustly driven from the thrones of the churches, and others were put into their place; yet in such a way that they required of them hand-written documents of impiety, just as if it were some other necessary thing. And the ink was ready, and the calumniator was at hand. This matter drove very many of us—men who were otherwise unconquered—into ^C deception; men who, although they had by no means fallen in their minds, were nevertheless led astray by their signature, and agreed with them, acting dishonestly in both respects; and if they did not share in the flame, they certainly were participants in the smoke. This, I myself have often lamented with many tears, looking upon that impiety which then flowed far and wide, and the persecution which is now stirred up against the orthodox doctrine by the supposed patrons of the Word.

XXIV. For truly, the pastors played the fool, as Scripture says, and many pastors have destroyed my vineyard; they have defiled the desirable portion—I mean the Church of God, with its many labors ^D and...

^A sacrifices, gathered both before Christ and after Christ, and by the very great sufferings of God himself for our salvation. For except for a very few—and even those were cast aside because of their insignificance, or stood their ground because of their virtue, who needed to be left as a seed and root for Israel, so that it might bloom again and revive by the outpourings of the Spirit—all yielded to the time. The only difference between them was that some fell into this fraud sooner, some later; and some showed themselves to be leaders and heads of the impiety, while others were placed in the second rank, being either struck by fear, or coerced by gain and utility, or lured by flattery, or, most mildly of all, cheated by ignorance—if indeed this is sufficient as an excuse for those entrusted with the leadership of the people.

For just as the impulses of lions and other animals are not the same, nor even those of men and women, or elders and young people, but there is no small difference of age and sex; thus it is not the same for those in authority and those who are subject to them. For those of the common people who have committed this through error, we might perhaps pardon, as they are often saved by their lack of critical judgment. ^B But how are we to grant this to a teacher, who ought to correct the ignorances of others, unless he wrongly lays claim to that name? For how is it not absurd that while no one is permitted to be ignorant of Roman law—no matter how rustic and unlearned one may be—and there exists no law that offers relief for crimes committed through ignorance, yet the initiators of salvation should be ignorant of the principles of salvation, even if they were otherwise simpler and not deep in their thinking?

But let there be pardon for those who followed along through ignorance. What, however, would you say of the others, who, while laying claim to the praise of intelligence, yet for the reasons I have mentioned gave themselves over to the emperors, and though they had played the role of piety for a long time as if in a game, as soon as some trial arrived by which they could be tested and exposed, they immediately collapsed?

XXV.

I consider it to be of such a nature that it moves from us ^B everything that is philosophic and possessed of the love of God, and those who even before the proper time lead a heavenly life. For these persons, even if they are otherwise peaceful and moderate, cannot endure to be easy in this matter, or to betray God through silence; on the contrary, they are here excessively warlike and fierce (for such is the heat of zeal), and they would sooner stir up something that should not be stirred, than neglect what ought to be done. And no small part of the people is torn away with them; just as in a flock of birds, they take flight together with those who lead the way, and even now [the flock] does not cease from taking flight together.

XXVI.

tem, zero nempe iracundiam acuente. Quod etiam ipsum Alexandrinis accidit, qui, ut in eos, a quibus contumeliam acceperunt, acerbissimi esse solent, importunam hominis audaciam indignissimis animis ferentes, tum novo dedecore mortem notandam atque infamandam duxerunt. Notus est vobis camelus ille, atque insueta sarcina, et nova altitudo, primaque illa, ac, nisi me opinio fallit, sola circumductio, quæ etiamnum contumeliosis hominibus minaciter denuntiatur.

ORATIO XXI. — IN LAUDEM ATHANASII.

^A You know that camel, and the strange burden, and the novel height, and that first perambulation—which I think is also the only one—which even until now is threatened against those who act insolently.

XXVII. But when that whirlwind of injustice, that plague and corruption of piety, that forerunner of the Evil One, was punished by such a penalty—in my judgment, not rightly (for one ought not have regard for what he deserved to suffer, but for what it was proper for us to do), but yet he was punished, and he underwent the onslaught and wrath of the whole populace—then that noble athlete returned to the city from his noble exile (for so I call his flight undertaken for the Trinity and with the Trinity). He was met by citizens so joyful and eager—or rather, by almost all of Egypt, running together from every direction and from the furthest ends of all Egypt—that some might be satisfied by the voice of Athanasius alone, others by his form and appearance, and others—just as we heard concerning the apostles—might be sanctified at least by his shadow and the empty outline of his body. So that, although many honors have been rendered to many, many times, throughout all history, and many have been met by crowds—not only by public officials and bishops, but also by the most prominent and distinguished of their own kin—yet it is recorded that no such reception was ever greater in frequency and splendor. One honor alone can be compared to this: that with which Athanasius himself had been adorned upon his former entry, when he was returning to Alexandria from the same flight and for the same reasons. ^B

XXVIII. Indeed, a certain account of this honor is also circulated; for I shall mention it, even if it may seem superfluous, and I will add it to my discourse as a kind of seasoning and an extraneous flower. After his arrival, a certain man was being carried into the city, holding the prefecture for a second time. This man was one of ours, since he was a Cappadocian, and a very famous man at that. I have no doubt that you know I am speaking of that Philagrius. Such, then, was the flame of the citizens' love for him that no other could be equal to it, nor could it be for any other; and the honor, to sum up the whole matter in a few words, was the manifestation of love.

^A And so, while the multitude was infinite, and like some sea which the eyes could not encompass, a certain person from the crowd—as is wont to happen on such occasions—is said to have addressed a friend and acquaintance, saying: "Tell me, my good sir, have you ever seen a population so large and so full of life poured out in honor of a single man?" The young man replied, "No; but in my opinion, not even Constantius ^B himself could have attained to this," as if the emperor's name signified the highest pinnacle of honor. The other, smiling very gently, said: "What are you saying, as if you were telling me something great and wonderful? I can hardly be brought to believe that even the great Athanasius would have been brought in with equal honor," and at the same time he added a certain local oath to confirm what he had said. The point of this remark, as I suspect is clear to you as well, was to place Athanasius even above the emperor himself.

XXIX. So great was the reverence for this man among all, and so stupendous was that entry of his which we are now recalling. ^C For, divided by sexes, ages, and crafts (for this city is accustomed to be arranged in this manner when it undertakes to honor some one publicly; and indeed, how could I describe the greatness of that spectacle in words?), they were all one river. A poet might even call it the Nile—the truly gold-flowing and grain-rich river—flowing backwards from the city towards Chæreus, a journey of one day, or even further. Allow me, I pray you, a little longer to delight in this narrative. For my soul lingers there, nor can I easily recall my discourse from that solemnity. ^D A colt was bearing him (and I beg you not to accuse me of madness), nearly in the same way as that other colt bore my Jesus (whether the word intends to signify the people from the Gentiles, whom He was pleased to mount, having loosed them from the bonds of ignorance, or whatever else it may mean)—and branches welcomed him,

and garments of many colors and various patterns were cast down and spread out before him—here, however, the lofty and costly was alone held in low esteem, and he had no equal. ^A This, too, was an image of the advent of Christ, as were those who went before him crying out, and those who danced—except that it was not merely a throng of children that greeted him with joyful acclamations, but every tongue, concordant and discordant, striving to outdo one another. For I will not speak of the public acclamations, the outpouring of perfumes, the all-night festivals, the whole city flashing with lights, the public and private banquets, and all the tokens of joy and cheerfulness by which cities signify their delight—things which, at that time, were extended to him most abundantly, and beyond what could be believed. Thus does that wonderful man enter his own city, and with such a celebration.

XXX. Did he then, in fact, live his life as it behooves those who are to preside over such a multitude of people? And did he teach, but not as he lived? Did he struggle, but not as he taught? Did he face danger, but less than those who had struggled for some doctrine? Was he honored less than he deserved for his struggles? And, finally, did any of the things from the time of his entry, after that entry, redound to his disgrace and ignominy? By no means. Everything was linked and connected together, as on a single lyre, and of the same harmony: his life, his word, his struggles, his dangers, the circumstances of his return, and the events that followed his return. ^B For as soon as he reached the Church, he was not affected in the same way as those are who, through the instability of anger, are blinded, and whatever they first chance upon, that same thing—regardless of its worth, or from whom they ought to restrain their hands—they push away or strike, so precipitous are they in their rage. But, deeming this time to be especially opportune for his own reputation for excellence (since it usually happens that he who is in adversity shows himself more moderate, while he who has obtained the power to retaliate acts more insolently), he managed the affairs of those by whom he had been harmed with such gentleness and humanity that not even to them, if it be possible to say so, was the return of the man disagreeable.

XXXI. He does indeed cleanse the temple of the traffickers in holy things and the traders in Christ, in order to imitate Christ in this as well—except that he does this not with a woven scourge, but with persuasive speech. He reconciles the ^C

^A parties contending against him and among themselves, without needing any of the peacemakers. He liberates those who had been harmed by tyranny, making no distinction between those who supported his own cause and those who followed the opposing side. Furthermore, he lifts up the fallen doctrine of the faith, so that the Trinity is once again proclaimed freely, placed upon a lampstand and illuminating all souls with the splendid light of the one divinity. He once again prescribes laws for the world, and turns all minds toward himself; to some, he sends letters, others he invites, and some who approach of their own accord he instructs, proposing to all a free will as the only law. For he believed this alone was sufficient to point the way toward virtue. To sum it up, he imitates the nature of two praiseworthy stones. For he becomes diamond to those who strike him, and a magnet to those who are divided, drawing iron by an ineffable natural force and taking to himself the hardest of all materials. ^B

XXXII. But it was not possible for envy to bear these things, nor could it endure to see the Church restored to its former glory and its ancient health, now that the divided parts had been closed over by a very swift scar, as if in a body. For this reason, it stirs up against him the fellow-apostate ^C emperor, one who was his equal in the same crime of defection and in wickedness, though later in time. He was the first of the Christian emperors to be struck with madness against Christ; and the basilisk of impiety, which he had long been carrying within himself, being suddenly unleashed as soon as the opportunity arose and he was declared emperor, he acted wickedly both toward the emperor who had entrusted him with the command of his faith and, even more wickedly, toward God to whom he owed his salvation. He devised the most terrible persecution of all that had ever occurred, insofar as he added persuasion and the blandishments of speech to his tyranny (for he even envied the martyrs the honors that are customary to bestow for their struggles), casting doubt upon the praise due for their fortitude by transferring the logical tropes and tricks to their character—or, to speak more truly, by transferring his own zeal from his character and the cunning of his intellect to those crimes, and by imitating the craft and manifold deceit of the demon who had his dwelling in his breast. For his part, he thought it a minor and undistinguished task to subject the whole Christian nation to his empire; but that it would be great and glorious if he were to overcome Athanasius and that power of ^D his concerning our Word. For he saw that nothing would be gained regarding our side by his own ingenuity, on account of that man's opposition and rebuttal; for he was always filling up the ranks of Christians that were being emptied, through the addition of Greek learning and through that man’s intelligence, which is indeed a marvel. Thinking on these things,

and seeing that that terrible sophist and persecutor no longer remained within the frame of his makeup or his sophistic servility; but having stripped away his wickedness, he openly banished the man from the city. For it was necessary that the one who had conquered in three contests ^A should receive a perfect reward and also be raised up.

XXXIII. No long time had passed when the avenging power of God sent that impious and sacrilegious man to the Persians, where he argued his case: and he who had sent him forth magnificent and burning with the desire for honor, brought him back dead, moving no one to pity; nay, as I have heard from someone, not even accepted for burial, but cast out by the earth which had been troubled on his account, and thrown aside by a violent heat: a prelude, I think, of the punishment hereafter. But another emperor arises, not of such shameless countenance ^B as the one of whom we spoke before, nor one who oppressed Israel with wicked deeds and taskmasters, but one endowed with great piety and gentleness; who, in order to lay the most beautiful foundation for his empire, and to make a beginning of lawfulness from where it was fitting, releases the bishops from exile, and all others, and before all, him who excelled all in virtue and who had been openly attacked for the sake of piety. He sought the truth of our faith, which had been torn asunder and confounded by many, and divided into many opinions and sects; so that he might, if possible, have the whole world in agreement, and come into one ^C through the cooperation of the Spirit; but if not, that he himself might at least join the best party, and at once bring strength to it, and receive it from it in turn, thinking in a most lofty and magnificent way about the greatest matters. And it was here that the purity of the man and the firmness of his faith in Christ were most clearly demonstrated. For while all others who professed our doctrine were divided three ways, and many were infirm in their faith regarding the Son, and more regarding the Holy Spirit—where even the lesser impiety was thought to be piety—and only a few were healthy and sound on both counts; he was the first and the only one, or at any rate with a very few, who dared [D ] the truth so clearly and explicitly, confessing in writing one divinity and substance of the three; and that which had previously been granted by the great number of the Fathers regarding the Son, he established.

^A And later, being himself divinely inspired concerning the Holy Spirit, he presented to the Emperor a gift truly royal and magnificent: a written confession of the faith against the new dogma nowhere expressed in Scripture, so that in this way an emperor might defeat an emperor, doctrine might defeat doctrine, and a document might defeat a document.

^B XXXIV. It seems to me that those who are moved by the authority of this confession include both the Westerners and whatever is still vital in the East. Some, indeed, cherish piety only as far as their own minds are concerned—if indeed any credit is to be given to their words of faith—but do not bring it any further, like a dead fetus dying within the mother’s womb. Others kindle it slightly, like a small spark, only so far as to satisfy the times, or the more fervent among the orthodox, or the devoutness of the populace. Others, finally, proclaim the truth with full freedom of speech; would that I might stand on this side—for I dare not boast of anything greater—no longer considering my own timidity, nor the cowardice and mental weakness of others (for we have dispensed enough and more than enough, not only by failing to associate outsiders with ourselves, but even by corrupting our own, which is truly the mark of bad stewards); but rather [I would] bring the offspring into the light and carefully nurture it, and set it before everyone's eyes, growing day by day.

XXXV. But this in him seems less worthy of admiration. For if one has exposed himself to dangers for the sake of defending the truth in deed, what is surprising if he confessed it also in writing? But what I am most overcome by in this man, and what cannot be passed over in silence without harm, especially in this present tempest when many contentions and dissensions are being born, I will add here to the foregoing. For this action may serve as a lesson for those who live now, if we propose him to ourselves as one to be imitated. For just as with one and the same water, not only is that part separated which the hand leaves behind while drawing, but also that which was grasped by the hand flows out through the fingers; in the same way, among us, not only those who cultivate impious doctrine are cut off, but even those who excel first and foremost in the praise of piety, and that not only over small and contemptible dogmas (for this would be a less grave matter), but even over words which tended to one and the same meaning. For while the one essence and the three hypostases are spoken of by us piously (the one indicating the nature of the Godhead, and the other the properties of the three ^D—and are understood similarly by the Italians, yet because of the narrowness

of their language and the poverty of terms, they could not distinguish "hypostasis" from "essence," and thus it came to pass that, so as not to seem to admit three substances, they introduced the term "persons") ^A, what then happened? A thing truly ridiculous, or rather to be lamented. That light and empty altercation concerning the sound of words presented the appearance of a divided faith. Thence, for this reason, Sabellianism was devised on account of the three "persons," and Arianism on account of the three "hypostases"—figments of a spirit of contention. What then? As some small thing was added daily to that which causes pain (for contention brings forth pain), the matter was brought to such a pass that there was a danger that the ends of the earth might be rent asunder along with the syllables. When that blessed man, and true man of God, and great dispenser of souls, beheld and heard these things with his own eyes and ears, he did not think it right to overlook such an absurd and irrational ^B partitioning of the Word; rather, he applied a remedy for the malady as quickly as possible. How, then, does he do this? Having called both parties together in such a mild and kind manner, and having examined the mind of what was being said truly and accurately, since he found them to be in agreement and in no way differing in doctrine, he granted the use of the terms, but bound them together in the realities.

XXXVI. On the Praise of Athanasius

XXXVI. This is more useful than those long-drawn-out labors and discourses which everyone is now committing to writing; discourses which are not free from ambition, and perhaps for this reason some novelty is introduced concerning the doctrine of the faith. This is more excellent than those many vigils and nights spent on the ground, the utility of which is confined to those who perform them and does not spread more widely. This is to be reckoned as no ^C whit inferior to his highly heralded and famous exiles and flights. For he applied himself to the same pursuits, for the sake of which he had chosen to suffer those calamities, even after the calamities themselves. Nay, he did not cease to do this very same thing in others: raising some with praises, while striking others sparingly and lightly; rousing the sloth of some, and curbing the fervor of others; providing for some, lest they should fall, and devising a plan for others, that they might be raised up if they had fallen; simple in manner, manifold in the art of governance; wise in speech, wiser in thought; unassuming to the more humble, ^D higher to those who were more exalted; hospitable, an intercessor,

complex; wise in his words, wiser in his soul; if he were dealing with those of lower status, he would descend to their capacity; if with those gifted with a more lofty mind, he would rise higher; the leader of guests, a suppliant, a depeller of evils—he alone truly embraced all those things which the Gentiles attribute to their own gods. I will also add that he is a patron of those married and of virgins, and a peacemaker and reconciler, and a guide for those who are hastening from this life to the next. O what an abundance of names his virtue provides for me, while I seek to catch a surname for him from every side! ^B

XXXVII. But when he had held such a course of life, and had been so instructed, and had instructed others, that his life and manner of customs served as a rule for the episcopacy, and his dogmas were held as the law of orthodox faith, what reward for his piety did he finally receive? For this is not to be passed over in neglect. He closed his life in a good old age, and was joined to his fathers, the patriarchs, and prophets, and apostles, and martyrs who had contended for the truth. And, to sum up a sort of epitaph in a few words, he was graced with more excellent honor at his departure than he had been adorned with upon his entry into the city; indeed, he stirred up many tears, but he laid up in the minds of all a glory of his name greater than those things which fall under sight. But, O dear and sacred head—you, I say, who beyond your other praises have excellently cultivated the measure of speech and silence—do you set the end here for our Oration, which, if it has by no means attained the excellence of your virtues, yet is certainly not inferior to our powers. And oh that you yourself, benign and placid, would look down upon us from above and govern this people, making them a perfect worshiper of the perfect Trinity, which is understood and worshipped in the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit; and as for us, if things are to be peaceful, keep us in life and pasture the flock with me; but if the Church be ablaze with wars, lead us back or take us up, and place us with yourself and with those like you, even though it be a great thing that I ask, in Christ himself our Lord, to whom be all glory, honor, and power unto the ages. Amen. ^C

MONITUM ON ORATIONS XXII AND XXIII

I. These orations are inscribed "On Peace." Gregory had already delivered another oration at Nazianzus inscribed "On Peace," when the monks, having been distracted from him on account of a formula signed by Gregory the father which smelled of Arian fraud, had returned to unity. Now, however, it is not the same cause that inflames the zeal of the Theologian. For besides the war against the heretics, there was also raging in these times a mournful schism among the Catholics themselves, some of whom were attempting to draw Gregory "to Paul," others "to Apollo." By "Paul and Apollo" here, it is rightly understood by scholars that Melitius and Paulinus are meant, who were contending for the Antiochene bishopric, and...

on account of whom not only the East, but the whole world was being torn into opposite factions ^A in a pitiable manner. Amidst these conflagrations of discord, Gregory follows a middle path, and employing a vehement style of speech, he tries with all his might to recall the banished peace (n. 1): "O Peace of God," he says, "and God of peace, O friendly Peace, a good thing indeed praised by all, but observed by few, where have you left us after such a long space of time? When are you to return to us?" Then, inveighing against the present state of affairs, he shows how many and how great are the troubles which discord brings with it, especially for Christians, whose God is charity. He rebukes the fickleness of the dissenters (n. 5), by which it happens that he who yesterday was preached as an Elias or a John, today is held to be a Judas or a Caiaphas. Then turning his speech to the doctrine of the faith, he teaches what must be avoided in doctrine; and furthermore warns that some things are not even to be investigated at all, ^B some things are to be left to contentious men, but some things, "not with arms and iron (n. 11)," but by reason, are to be defended. Whence he cautiously and prudently concludes (n. 12), "that all superfluous shoots of questions must be completely pruned away, since the rule of piety is in safety, and the head of the faith has been once established."

II. Not long after, peace having already been initiated, and with Meletius and Paulinus being placed in the Antiochene see with the vote and suffrage of the dissenters themselves, under the condition "that with the death of one of the contestants, the one who survived should be acknowledged by all as bishop (60)," the Theologian delivered another oration. Here, briefly touching again upon the utility and delights of peace, he rises especially against the heretics who, under the pretext of religion and the guise of charity, were bitterly criticizing the dissensions of the Catholics. The orator calls them to witness and challenges them (61): "Be," he says, "partakers of our secrets. We invite you to an assembly, even though you are hostile; we use our enemies as witnesses, so that blushing with shame you may retreat defeated. We have indeed dissented (62), not on the Godhead, but on order and discipline.... This was our error, that we were affected with too much love for our pastor, nor from two excellent prelates could we discover which was more to be sought, until we agreed on this, that we should place both in equal praise and admiration." Such are the causes for dissension ^C and conditions of peace which Gregory brings forward here. They did indeed sin, but only through excessive love for a pastor. Between two pastors, conspicuous alike in life, character, and doctrine, they hesitated, uncertain and dissenting, until at length they agreed on this, that they would hold both in equal praise and admiration. For "of the faith and the divinity, there was one voice and one lip for all (63)." Furthermore, the Theologian now congratulates them in this oration on the peace which he had declared in his former oration that he desired, and at the same time he proves to the heretics that there was not as much dissension among the Catholics as seemed to them. Whence he exposes their envy and hypocrisy, and having refuted their errors concerning the Trinity, he lovingly prays for their salvation and promises the theological orations.

III. We judge it more probable, with Tillemont (64), that these orations were delivered at Constantinople around the middle of the year 379. Regarding the first, there is no doubt; and the title which the codices bear confirms this. But regarding the latter, scholars differ. Elias, indeed, Billius, and Papebrochius (65) thought it was delivered at Nazianzus while Gregory the father was still alive. Whence it obtains the first place in the published editions. Nevertheless, nothing can be gathered from this oration which favors their opinion. And first, indeed, as long as the elder Gregory held the care of the Nazianzene Church, there was never any dissension between Gregory the father and Gregory the son, and consequently no necessity for reconciliation can be imagined. ^D Next, if any conflict existed between the two Gregories and the monks, that pertained "to the faith," not to order and discipline (66), of which alone we are treating here. Also, not yet in these times had the heretics at Nazianzus arrived at such rashness and arrogance that the Theologian would have needed, to beat back their audacity, to argue and attack them so sharply and so frequently on the same matters, and furthermore to use "hard and solid" arguments, as he says (67), "concerning the Trinity," by which name the theological orations which he had promised are designated. Nor let it move anyone that the Theologian says (68), "of a kind father, and his obedient son, sitting together, and bringing mutual ornament to each other," which perhaps deceived Elias and others. For that, as is manifest from what has been said, can in no way be referred to the two Gregories. Rightly, according to Tillemont, it is understood either of a certain bishop who was leading the dissenters' factions, and who perhaps excelled our Gregory in dignity, whom he calls "father" for the sake of honor, and names himself "son"; or rather, and more probably, the Theologian himself is the "father," and by the name of "son" he designates one of the priests, whom, even though he had led the band of dissenters at Constantinople, he receives back into favor once peace was composed; for the sake of confirming which peace, it was necessary that both should sit together, join right hands before the people, and that both should pronounce their parting speech with one soul and one mouth.

ORATION XXII

^A Second Oration on peace, delivered in the city of Constantinople, because of a contention that had arisen among the people concerning certain bishops who were at odds with one another.

I. Friendly peace, not only sweet in name, but also in reality, which I have now given to the people and received in turn; I know not whether it be a sincere voice from all, and worthy of the Spirit, or rather public pacts violated with God as witness, so that our condemnation may be the heavier. Friendly peace, my meditation and my glory, which we hear is of God, and of whom we hear that he is God, even God himself, as in those words of the Apostle: *The peace of God* (Phil. iv, 7); and, *The God of peace* (II Cor. xiii, 11); and, *He is our peace* (Eph. ii, 14); and not even so do we revere it. Friendly peace, a good praised by all indeed, but kept by few, where have you left us for such a length of time now? And when will you return to us? I, indeed, desire and kiss you above all mortals, and when present I embrace you, and when absent I recall you with many wailings and tears—tears such as neither that patriarch Jacob shed for Joseph—sold, as it was thought, by his brethren, but snatched by a wild beast—nor David for his friend Jonathan, who fell in battle, ^B or later for his son Absalom. Of these, the one, torn in his paternal bowels, cried out: *A wild beast hath devoured Joseph* (Gen. xxxvii, 33), a wild and cruel beast; and, holding forth the bloody garment of the boy, he kissed it as if it were the flesh of his son, by the same act, forsooth, both kindling and soothing his own grief. The other now curses those mountains on which the battle had been fought, proclaiming all dire things: *Mountains of Gelboe*, he says, *let neither rain nor dew fall upon you* (II Reg. i, 21); and, *How are the bow and the strength of Jonathan fallen* (Ibid. 25)! But now he makes excuse for the parricide, as if he had never harmed him, and is reconciled with the dead; perhaps also suffering for the son on this account, that he had raised his hand against his father (for such is the paternal affection), and he who had repelled and defeated him as an enemy when he waged war, now desires him as a friend when he is dead: thus nature, than which nothing is more violent, overcomes enmity.

II. A miserable thing also was the ark occupied by foreigners, and Jerusalem razed to the ground and trodden upon by the Gentiles (I Reg. iv, 11); and the sons of Sion, those renowned ones, I say, and equal to gold, going into captivity, and even now still dispersed, and reduced to such a state that they are a people of the

world, strangers and sojourners. ^A Terrible, indeed, are even the things we now see and hear: fatherlands being raised from their foundations, and myriads falling; the earth burdened with blood and corpses, and a foreign nation overrunning and ravaging another region as if it were its own. Let no one blame this on the cowardice of its defenders; for they are the very ones who have subdued nearly the whole world with war and arms; but rather [blame it] on our wickedness, and the impiety prevailing against the Trinity. These things are terrible, and beyond terrible. Who among those who know how to judge calamities by what they have suffered, or by what others have suffered with them, will gainsay this? But nothing is as yet so great a calamity as peace pursued and driven away, and the comeliness of the Church stripped away, and her ancient dignity abolished and extinguished; and the order of things so inverted that we, who were once not a people and have become a people, and from not a nation have become a nation, are now at risk of being dissolved, so that we may become again no people and no nation, just as from the beginning, before you ^B ruled over us, and before we had come together into one name and order.

III.

IV. But if anyone should ask us: What is that which you honor and adore? The answer is ready: It is love. ^A For our God is love; and He delights in this name more than in any other. And if he should further ask us what is the sum of the Law and the Prophets, the Evangelist would not permit us to answer anything other than love. Why, then, are we who cultivate love so consumed by mutual hatreds? We who are of peace, why do we wage war that is implacable and irreconcilable? We who are of the corner-stone, why are we divided and torn asunder? We who are of the rock, why are we shaken? We who are of the light, why are we in darkness? And we who are of the Word, why are we filled with such silence, or nonsense, or madness—or, I know not what word to use—that while there is satiety—as they say—of food, and sleep, and song, and of the most shameful things, and a fullness of all things, not only of those that are painful but even of ^B those that are most pleasant, and all things shift and turn into one another; yet for us there is neither end nor measure to the inflicting and receiving of wounds, and that not only toward those who think differently and dissent in the doctrine of faith (for that would be less bitter, and zeal is a praiseworthy thing, if it remains within its own bounds, which might excuse it), but even toward those who profess the same faith and contend against the same adversaries and for the same cause. For this is the most wicked, or rather the most pitiable, thing of all.

V. And what is the cause of this? Perhaps the love of power, or the desire for wealth, or envy, or hatred, or pride, or something of those things by which we do not see even those who believe in no God to be troubled. And that which is clever and witty is the very inversion of the judgments. For when we are caught, we are pious and orthodox, and we falsely take refuge in the truth, as if we were contending for the faith: and we do this one thing that is—like most evils—worthy of praise, or rather, it is truly shameful, that we, blushing at the vice, pass over to a more ^C specious and honest name, that is, to piety. “O thunderstruck and shifty man,” one might say, “and creature of the Evil One and of the architect of vice, whoever you are who are so affected, or, to speak more truly, O most mindless one: this man was pious to you yesterday; how, then, is he impious today, when he has neither added nor taken away anything, neither in word nor in deed, but remains in the same sentiment of faith, breathes the same air, and beholds the same sun with the same eyes? Or, if you prefer, ^D as if questioned about numbers or measures, he answers nothing other than the same thing? Yet he, who was yesterday Joseph, is to you today a fornicator [alt-version omitted]

^A (for even to this point does the contention proceed, like a certain flame running through stubble and consuming what is near); and today a Judas, or a Caiphas, who was yesterday an Elias, or a John, or some other person from among those who had joined themselves to the side of Christ, and were girded with the same belt, and clothed in the same brown or black mantle—all of which a holy and grave life, according to my own law and opinion, affects. Nay, we go so far as to call that beautiful flower of sublime men—that is, their pallor, or their composed and quiet manner of speech, or the gravity of their gait joined with gentleness—yesterday philosophy, but today a pursuit of vain glory; and we ascribe the same power against evil spirits or diseases, now to Jesus, and now to Beelzebul—and we employ an unjust rule for these things, that is, contention and anger.

^B VI. And just as the same earth stands firm and stable for those who are healthy and in no way harmed, but moves for those who suffer from dizziness and are spinning, since the malady of the viewers is transferred to the thing viewed; or if you prefer, just as the same interval between columns appears greater to those who are nearer, but less to those who are further away—the air being, as it were, stolen by the distance, and our sight connecting the thicker parts—so we too are easily deceived on account of enmity, and we do not judge the same things in the same way, whether we are friends or not. ^C The occasion, moreover, beyond what is right, easily designates many for us as holy, and many as atheists, or rather, all as wretched: not only by that name, because they look at us and see a bad example (since vice is on a downward slope, even when no one is pulling), but also because we willingly grant everything to everyone, on the condition that they go mad with us. And formerly, there was no danger in uttering even5 something superfluous; but now we even tear apart with reproaches those who are gifted with the greatest piety! Indeed, when it was not lawful for anyone to read the law outside, nor to demand confessions—that is, as it seems to me, the consent of the people—now, on the contrary, we permit even the mysteries themselves to the judgment of profane men, throwing what is holy to the dogs, and casting pearls before swine. ^D And not only that, but we even feast their ears with mutual insults and abuses against one another; and we are not even able to see that it is not safe to entrust a weapon to an enemy, nor a word against a Christian to one who hates Christians. For what we have reproached today, we are reproached for tomorrow; and the enemy fawns, as the saying goes—not because he praises, but because he stores up poison bitterly, so that in due time he may spit it out against those who believe.

^A VII. Why do we commit these things, brothers, and for how long shall we commit them? When shall we emerge from this drunkenness, or remove the film from our eyes, and look up toward the light of truth? What is this darkness? What is this nocturnal conflict? What is this storm that does not distinguish the faces of friends from enemies? Why have we become a reproach to our neighbors, a derision and a scorn to those who are around us? What is this so persistent zeal for evil? Why are we tired out with such immortal labor? Or rather, why do I say "tired out"? No, from the very evil itself—as the insane are wont to do—we gain strength, and we rejoice when we are being consumed. And nowhere is there reason, neither friend, nor ally, nor physician, either easing or excising the suffering; no ministering angel, no God. But, in addition to other things, we have even shut off the benevolence of God toward ourselves. "Why, O Lord, have you stood afar off? And how long will you turn away completely? And when will you visit us?" Where will these things progress, and where will they end? I truly fear that our present state of affairs is a sort of smoke from the fire that is awaited, lest the Antichrist ^B arrive to these, and take our failings and infirmities as the occasion for his own power. For he will not, I think, attack those who are sound, nor those who are hedged about by charity; but the kingdom must first be divided against itself, and then the strong man within us must be tested and bound, and then the vessels be plundered; and we must suffer the things that we now see the enemy suffering from Christ.

VIII. "For these things I weep," says Jeremiah in the Lamentations, "and I seek for my eyes fountains of tears" equal to this calamity; and I call for the wise women, that they might stir up a lament, or at least assist; and I am afflicted with pain in my belly, and my senses are pricked, and I have no way how I might ease the pain, and with what words. Therefore, the old things are kept silent, and the new are mocked in the manner of a comedy. For my tragedy is a comedy to the enemies. For this reason we have taken no small amount away from the churches and added it to the stage; and this in such a city, which deliberately mocks divine things just as it does other things, and which would sooner laugh at something excellent and worthy of praise than let anything ridiculous pass by without being ^C laughed at—so that it would be a wonder to me if it did not also laugh at me, that is, at the stranger who is a herald of piety, saying these things and teaching that not all things are to be laughed at, but that some things are to be treated with seriousness. And why do I say "laugh at"? It would be a wonder if I were not even required to pay a penalty for wishing to do good. For such is the state of our affairs, that they bring no sorrow to me—neither the occupied churches (a thing that perhaps might happen to someone ^D of small-minded disposition), nor gold flowing to others, nor

perverse tongues, which do what is their own, speaking badly, since they have not learned to speak well.

^B IX. For there is no fear that the Divine may be circumscribed by place, or become something venal, so that it might belong entirely to the wealthier. And those who praise or disparage me will not change me (just as those who mix perfume with mud, or mud with perfume, confuse the qualities by their mixing), so that I might be vexed by the blasphemies as if I were one who changes. Otherwise, I would have paid much money to those who praise me, if they could make me better by their praises. But, as things are, it is not so; whence could it be? Rather, I remain what I am, both being disparaged and being admired. "Man wanders vainly in words," says Job; and as much as foam flows around a rock, or breezes around a pine or some other dense and tall tree, so much do tongues flow around me. And at the same time, I philosophize about some such thing to myself: If the accuser is false, the speech does not touch me more than it touches the one who speaks, even if he attacks me by name with insults; but if he is true, I shall blame myself more than the one who speaks (for the material of the speech is supplied to him by me, but his speech is not the cause of my being such). And having passed over the voices as if they were nothing, I shall become my own master, gaining from their wickedness only this one thing: to live more cautiously. ^C Third, however, which also has something [that is] greatest and most magnificent in this slander, is that we are insulted along with God; for the same persons both reject the Godhead and insult the proclaimer of the Godhead. Therefore, none of these things is grave, even if the majority thinks so. But what is burdensome is that no one is still believed to be faithful, nor [is] the one who is guileless and free from pretense [believed to be] virtuous, even if he is very strong in his soul and genuine in piety; but one is openly wicked, while another possesses gentleness as a mask and a color, in order to steal by what is apparent.

^D X. And indeed, everyone is not immediately judged to be dark-skinned because some are such, nor ignoble, or ugly, or cowardly, or intemperate, [just] because many act in this way; but each one is judged by himself and privately, and nothing of what is attributed to vice or praise is applied to all in common. Here, however, vice is easily spread to all, and a general accusation is made against the entire body, not only regarding what belongs to the many, but even what belongs to some. And the most terrible thing is that it does not stop only at us, but passes on to our great and venerable mystery. For among those who judge our affairs—which happens to everyone in a small degree—to those who judge the affairs of others, some are fairly gentle and humane, while others are altogether bitter and unreasoning. For indeed, from these, those who evaluate our affairs

^B blame us for our wickedness, leaving aside the doctrine of the accusation; others blame the law itself, as a teacher of vice, and this especially when they encounter many wicked men who have been deemed worthy of leadership.

XI. What is this, O men, and how long shall we be insane? Shall we not come to our senses, if only late? Shall we not awake? Shall we not be ashamed? Shall we not, if only for the sake of other things, avoid the tongues of our enemies, which even easily concoct false crimes? Shall we not put an end to this excessive zeal for contention? Shall we not recognize which of the things sought are attainable by us, and to what extent, and which are beyond our power? And which belong to the present time and to the earthly confusion which darkens the mind; and which to the future age and the freedom from there; so that we may be content with the former for the time being, and be purified by the latter, as those who will later be perfected and stand fast in their desire? Shall we not distinguish among ourselves which questions should not be sought at all, which moderately, and which should be conceded and left to contentious men, however they may be, being such as cause no detriment to our doctrine? Which should be given to faith alone, and which also to reasoning? And for which should one fight enthusiastically, logically, and not with the armor of soldiers? For even to raise one's hands is altogether outside our fold, and should be cast off to those who hate us.

XII. Shall we not consider this one rule of piety to be set before us: to worship the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, the one deity and power in three persons, neither over-worshipping nor under-worshipping ^C (for it is pleasing to imitate somewhat those who behave wisely in these matters; for the one is impossible, and the other is impious and wicked), nor dividing the one magnitude by the novelty of names? For nothing is greater or less than itself. This being posited and established, we shall agree in other things as well, at least those of us who worship the same Trinity, and are of almost the same doctrine and body; and we shall lop off and take out of the way, as a common disease, the superfluous and useless offshoots and digressions of present-day questions. Or was it not enough for me (for I leave aside those that are still further off) the wicked spirit of Montanus against the Holy Spirit, and the boldness of Novatus ^D, whether...

or their impure purity, which entices the multitude under the guise of an honest name, and the frenzy of the Phrygians—still flourishing even now—both of those initiating and those being initiated, very similar to the frenzy of the ancients; and the madness of the Galatians ^A, abounding in many names of impiety; and the contraction of Sabellius, and the division of Arius, and the subdivision of the sophists of this present time that has sprung from these—all of whom differ among themselves as much as a talkative tongue differs from one that is sluggish and idle? But we even struggle among ourselves, we who keep sound regarding the Head, and who contend for the same things and against the same people.

XIII. I refer to the brotherly strife ^B that has lately arisen among us, from which both God and man are brought into ignominy; the former by not being born for us at all, nor nailed to the cross, and consequently not buried nor raised from the dead, as some of those who love Christ in a perverse manner have thought; but only honored here, where honor redounds to dishonor and contempt, and for that reason is dissected or composed into two sons: the latter, by not being perfectly assumed or honored, but by being in the greatest part cast aside and alienated, if indeed what is greatest in human nature is the divine image and the faculty of the mind. For it was necessary, they claim—since the Godhead has been united—for humanity to be divided, and for those who are otherwise wise to become senseless regarding the mind; and for me, who have fallen in my entirety, and upon the disobedience of the first-born and the craftiness of the adversary have been condemned in my entirety, not to obtain salvation in every part, ^C so that thus both the benefit of God and our own salvation might be diminished. And to this indignity there is added this: that we who have been gifted with salvation by God wage war for the sake of men, and such a spirit of contention abounds in us that we even lend ourselves to the ambitions of others, and take on personal enmities for the sake of other men's thrones; in one act committing two most grave sins: for we both kindle their ambition, and we ourselves take this as a support for our own vicious affection, just like those who are falling headlong off a cliff, grasping at the stones nearby, or the more rigid of the shrubs.

XIV. Yet it should have been our concern ^A rather to render them weaker through our own tranquility. For thus we would have provided better for them than by fighting on their behalf. But now, in my opinion, some very wretchedly join themselves as allies to others in war, and in turn take them as allies, to such an extent that the world, which had scarcely been gathered together at last and little by little through long labor, and not without the blood of many, has already been divided into two opposing parties. But whoever strives for peace and professes to be in the middle is ill-treated by both sides, being held in contempt or even provoked by war. And since we, who today are voicing these criticisms and for this very reason have accepted this chair, one full of strife and envy, stand on this side, it will be no wonder if we are crushed by both and, after many labors and toils, are removed from the midst; so that, once the intermediate wall and every obstacle is removed, they might immediately attack one another at close quarters and with all the fury of their spirits, with no partition or barrier remaining in between. ^B Therefore, to define and establish these things is, above all, the work of God, who binds all things together as if with certain chains; then, also, of those men who pursue integrity and have the good of concord known and perceived. This good begins from the Trinity, to which nothing is so proper as unity of nature and concord within itself; of this good the angels and divine powers are participants, for they conduct themselves peaceably both with God and with one another. It proceeds also to all created things, the ornament of which lies in concord; and finally it resides among us, as regards the soul, through the mutual accompaniment and fellowship of the virtues; and as regards the body, through the harmony and proportion of the limbs or elements with one another, ^C of which the one is and is called beauty, the other health.

XV. Although I also praise that saying of Solomon, who, as for all other things, so too for war and peace, has ordained a time, I will add only this: that the time for each must be observed—since, according to his law and word, it is possible for a war to be waged honorably at times—yet we must be more inclined toward peace as long as it is permitted, for this is something more sublime and God-like. For it would be absurd to suppose that concord is an excellent thing privately, but not equally useful and productive publicly; and that a house and a city are governed best when they suffer from no discords at all, or certainly from the very least, or if they do suffer, return to themselves as quickly as possible and are cured of the disease, whereas for the common body of the Church it is something different that is better and more becoming. ^D

^A And that each man should strive to be at peace with himself (for peace is the desirable thing for each individual, as is mastery over the passions); but to not show oneself the same toward others, but rather to consider the downfall of one's neighbor to be one's own glory—this is absurd. It is also absurd to think that, while God commands us to forgive those who sin against us, not only seven times but many times over (in such a way that the act of forgiving procures us forgiveness), we, for our part, are more eager to harass those who have done us no harm than to be benefited by others. And though it is known that such blessedness is laid up for the peacemakers that they alone, in the order of the saved, are called sons of God, we, while held by a love of enmities and rivalries, are yet in the opinion that we are doing something pleasing to God—to Him who suffered for our sake, in order that He might reconcile us to Himself and destroy the war within us. ^B

XVI.

[...to the point of] having satisfied my duty; for no one, even if exceedingly diligent for peace and endowed with the love of God, will, in my opinion, require anything more from me; for your part, you will see to what follows. For I shall not add anything harsher, since it is a father's law to spare his children. Would that it may fall to your lot to experience that great judge as propitious and peaceful, both now and in the day of retribution, in Christ our Lord himself, to whom belong glory and power for ever and ever. Amen. ^A

ORATION XXIII

Third Oration on Peace, which we composed after the dissension, we who are of the same faith.

I. Zeal is fervent, the Spirit is gentle, charity is kind, or rather charity is kindness itself, hope is long-suffering: zeal kindles, the Spirit mitigates, hope expects, charity binds, and does not allow the good that is in us to be dissipated, and if we are of a dissipated nature, and one of three, it either remains when it is, or is restored to integrity when it has been moved and shaken, ^B or returns when it has departed; not unlike a plant, which, when pulled to the contrary by force of hands, as soon as it is released, immediately returns to itself and its primary nature, and shows this to be its own—that though they are bent against their will, they are not raised up against their will. For vice is by nature ready at hand, and the path to what is worse is broad, a current running headlong, or like some straw that is easily ignited and kindled by a spark and a breeze, and becoming a flame, is consumed together with its own offspring. For flame is the offspring of matter, and it consumes the matter, just as wickedness consumes wicked men, and it passes away together with its fuel. But if someone has arrived at the habit of some good, and has been thoroughly imbued with it, it will be more difficult for this man to slip into vice ^C than it was to become good from the beginning. Since every good, confirmed by time and reason, acquires the force of nature, just as this charity also that is fixed in our souls, with which we worship the Love that truly exists, and whom we have loved, and have established as the leader and moderator of our entire life.

II. Where, then, are those who study and observe our affairs, whether they are faring well or ill, not to judge, but to disapprove; not to congratulate us, but to insult; and to slander the good things, while speaking of the bad in tragic terms ^D

and seeking excuse for their own lapses? Would that they judged rightly! For there would be some benefit even in bile, as the proverb says, if we were made more cautious by the fear of enemies; but now, with hatred and the wickedness that darkens the reason, and on account of which not even blame possesses any credibility, they approach to judge. Where then are those who hate both divinity and us equally? For this, of all that we suffer, is the most magnificent thing: that we are in peril along with God. Where are those who are indeed gentle and placid judges of their own affairs, but severe censors of the affairs of others, so that here too they may falsify the truth? Where are those who possess wounds and yet reproach us for stripes? Those who slander the stumbling blocks, while they themselves suffer the falls? Those who wallow in the mire and rejoice in our stains? Those who are blinded by beams, and yet bring forward specks, ^A which neither cause great pain when they persist, nor are difficult to remove and blow away from the eyes, while meanwhile they themselves are darkened, oppressed by the mass of beams?

III. On Peace III

III. Come, be participants in our secrets; we call you to the council, even though you are detested; we use our enemies as arbiters—O the arrogance, or rather the boldness!—so that you may depart ashamed and defeated (what could be more strange than this?) having learned of our health from the very fact that we have been ill. For we have not contended concerning the Godhead, but have struggled for the sake of good order; nor did we dispute as to which of the ^B impieties should rather be chosen: whether that which constricts God, or that which cuts, whether [one should cut] the Spirit alone from the divine essence, or also the Son along with the Spirit, the one portion or the two of impiety. For these are, to sum up in a chapter, the present maladies; since they place "ascensions in their heart"—not of confession, but of abjuration; not of theology, but of blasphemy. For one is more ambitious than another in the wealth of impiety, as if they feared, not to be impious, but to be moderate and more humane ^C than others.

IV. Our situation, however, is not the same. For where the Godhead is concerned, we are in agreement and concord no less than the Godhead is with itself, if it be not too great a thing to say; and we have become one lip and one voice, contrary to those who once built the tower. For they conspired for evil; but as for us, for every best thing we cultivate concord, so that with one mind in one mouth we may glorify the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, ^D and this be said of us, that in truth God is in us, who unites those who unite Him, and...

from whom glory is brought to those who bring glory; and that He may not only be preached, but also believed. ^B But there were other matters upon which we differed; and wrongly, too, regarding these, for I will not deny it (since one ought to give no opportunity or handle to the devil, nor license to wicked tongues), yet not in such measure as it seems to those who calumniously attack our affairs. For since, being human, it was inevitable that we should err in some way, this is our transgression: we were excessively fond of our pastors, and we were unable to discover which of two excellent men was more to be sought, until it befell us to admire both equally. This is our crime; let him who wishes condemn or acquit us on this charge. This is the protection of the heretics. Besides this, you have nothing, even if you desire it most intensely. "Dead flies," says the author, "corrupt the sweetness of oil" ^C; envy indeed will wish to infect those things which are right, but it will not be able. For truth is the strongest of all things, as it seems to me and to Esdras.

V. We, therefore, have settled our dissensions among ourselves, and we will continue to settle them. For it is not possible that sons should pass unjust judgment upon their fathers, especially with the common Trinity intervening, for whose sake we are being warred upon, and for whose sake we shall not wage war. I am the sponsor of peace, small though I am for so great a cause, since God gives grace to the humble, but brings the high down even to the ground. ^D What will that benefit you, O our common peacemakers? For you are peacemakers, and you confer this favor upon us unwillingly. For you are not pious for that reason, if we should happen to sin in some matter, whether small or great; we indeed are not to be praised for the vice, if we sin at all, but you are nonetheless impious, even if we do sin; unless you are even more so, because you are more harsh toward those who are stumbling. And that you may know that we are of one mind in all things, and that you may learn from these things that we have always been of one mind, you have been persuaded, as I think, even by what is visible: a candid father and an obedient son, sitting together and appearing in harmony; and if there was any spark of goodwill and concord remaining in you, having fanned this, let the word also persuade you. You have heard therefore, and the wonder still rings in my ears; and I know that what is within you is greater than that which is in the air.

^A But you shall hear us again, if you desire it again; and if what has been frequently made public is not enough for proof, then let those temptations and stonings (98) which we have already suffered, and for which we have prepared ourselves, complete it—counting it a loss not to suffer, rather than to suffer; and this all the more, in that we have tasted of the dangers (99) endured for Christ, from which we have also brought back an excellent fruit, namely, the increase of this people.

^B VI. What then do you wish? Are you convinced of this, and is there no need for us to be burdened with this matter, nor to have a second discourse on the Godhead, and do you spare my weakness, by which I can scarcely even utter these things to you? Or is it necessary, as with those who are hard of hearing, to sound the same word often, so that by the persistence of the voice we may at last reach the ears of those who hear? You seem to me to invite me to speak by your quiet and silence. For indeed, the proverb (1) teaches that silence is also consent. Therefore, receive the word of both of us, from one soul and one mouth. ^C But I am vexed that I cannot, having ascended some high mountain, and having obtained a voice equal to my desire, speak at once to all those who think wrongly about religion in the whole world, as if in a common theater: "O sons of men, how long are you heavy-hearted? Why do you love vanity and seek falsehood," introducing not one nor a simple nature of the Godhead, but either three, alienated from one another and distracted—and it is no marvel to say, even fighting with defects and excesses—or one, but a barren and narrow one, ^D which does not possess the capacity to be the cause of great things, as if it could not, or would not, and this for two reasons: either out of envy or out of fear—the former, that nothing equal might be introduced, the latter, that nothing hostile and warring might be brought in? Yet by how much God is more precious than created things, by so much is it more magnificent for the first cause, for the Godhead, to come through an intervening Godhead to created things, than for the Godhead to have been established as the result of created things, as is pleasing to those who are excessively inquisitive and speculative.

VII. For if we were about, in confessing the dignity of the Son and the Spirit, to introduce these as being without beginning, or to refer them to another principle, there would truly be fear lest God be dishonored, or something contrary to God be introduced by us. But since, by as much as you exalt (4) the Son, or the Spirit,

you do not place them above the Father, nor remove them from the cause: but rather refer thereto the glorious generation and the wonderful procession—I will ask you briefly, you who are so fond of generation and so fond of the principle: which of the two dishonors God more? He who establishes as a principle such things as you introduce, or he who establishes not such things, but those equal in nature and equal in glory, and such as our doctrine professes? Or will it be for you a great, and indeed most ample honor, that you have a son—and this all the more if he refers to the father in all things, and truly bears the likeness of his begetter—and it would be less pleasant for you to command six hundred servants than to be the parent of one son: yet for God will there be something greater and more excellent than being Father of the Son, which indeed is an accession of glory, not a falling away, as is also being the producer of the Spirit? Or does it escape you that, while you establish a principle for creatures—I mean of the Son and of the Spirit—you neither honor the principle ^B nor cease to dishonor what is from it? The former, because you introduce a principle that is trivial and unworthy of divinity; the latter, because they are trivial, and you make them not only creatures, but more contemptible than all other creatures; since, if it was for their sake that they came into being, and at a certain time, just like instruments before an artisan—which before the artisan were not, nor would they have come to exist otherwise, if God had not willed to create something through them, as if the mere will did not suffice. For everything that is made for the sake of something else is more contemptible than that for whose sake it was made.

VIII. But I, establishing as the principle of divinity what is timeless, inseparable, and infinite, honor both the principle ^C and what proceeds from the principle equally: the former, because it is the principle of such things; the latter, because they are in such a way and such things, and from such a principle, separated neither by time, nor by nature, nor by any venerable distinction; existing as one in their distinction, and as distinct in their connection—though it be a strange thing to say—and no less to be praised for the relation they have to one another than if each were taken and understood by itself. A perfect Trinity from three perfect ones, the Monad being moved on account of its riches, and the Dyad being surpassed (for it is above matter and form, ^D of which bodies consist), and the Trinity being defined on account of its perfection; for the first surpasses the composition of the binary, so that the divinity may neither remain narrow, nor be poured out into the infinite. For the former lack of ambition, and the latter is disorder; and the former is entirely Judaic, while the latter is Hellenic and polytheistic.

^A IX. And I consider this, too—perhaps not unlearnedly, nor ignorantly, but with very great circumspection—that for you there is no danger at all in introducing the Son as begotten. For the Unbegotten does not suffer any of those things that pertain to bodies and matter in the act of begetting, because He is not even a body; and this, common notions about God readily concede. Why then do we fear a fear where there is no fear, and why are we impious to no purpose, as the saying goes? But for me there is a danger of suffering a loss of deity if I should admit a creature. For what is created is not God, nor is the fellow-servant the Master, even if it be granted the first places of servitude and creation, and only this much is humanely attributed to it, though it be insulted. For he who deprives one of the honor that is owed does not honor him more by what he gives, than he dishonors him by what he takes away, even if the act has the pretense and veil of honor.

^B X. But if you invent passions for me concerning the generation, I also will invent the same for myself concerning the creation; for I know that not even that which is created is created without passion. But if it has not been begotten, according to you, nor created, according to the true word, accept from the argument what is left over for you—you who are bold enough to say almost the same thing through the appellation of creature. And you, indeed, an evil judge and arbiter of the deity, leave nothing unattempted, you dare everything; for you could not brighten your own name in any other way than if, like those who are of tyrannical character and inclined toward seizing the properties of others, you likewise removed God ^C from rule and dominion. I, on the contrary, have one utterance, the same and concise: the Trinity is truly the Trinity, brothers. But the Trinity is not an enumeration of unequal things (for what else would prevent us from naming a decade, and a hundred, and a myriad if it is composed with such numbers? For many things—and even more than these—fall into number), but a collection of equals and of those equal in honor, since the name connects those things that are united by nature, and does not allow those things that do not know dissolution to be dissipated by a dissolving number.

^D XI. Thus we think, and thus we are disposed, yet in such a way that we leave it to the Trinity Itself alone, and to those whom the Trinity, through a purified mind, has revealed or will reveal this in this life or in the next, to know what relation and order these have toward one another; for our part, let us acknowledge one and the same nature of deity, marked by the Unoriginate, the Begotten, and the Proceeding, as in us by the mind, the word, and the spirit.

^A (So far as intelligible things can be conjectured from sensible things, and the greatest from the least, since no image reaches the truth), it is observed to be self-consistent, ever the same, ever perfect, devoid of quality, quantity, and time; uncreated, and of such a nature that it has never lacked anything, and will never lack anything; incomprehensible, never forsaking itself, and never to be forsaken. It is lives and Life, lights and Light, goods and Good, glories and Glory, true and Truth, and the Spirit of Truth; holy things and Holiness itself. Each is God, if considered separately, that is to say, by the mind separating what cannot be separated. Yet the Three together are God, when understood together by reason of the same motion and essence; ^B having this principle, that it has left nothing above itself, nor has it surpassed anything else (for there was nothing), nor again is it to leave or surpass anything after itself (for there will be nothing), nor finally does it admit anything equal to itself. For there is nothing among all created, servile, participating, and circumscribed things that can reach that uncreated, sovereign, participated, and infinite nature. But some things are far distant from it, while others approach it more closely, and will approach it; and this not by nature, but by grace—namely, when the service correctly rendered to the Trinity has risen above service. Unless, perhaps, this very thing is also freedom and sovereignty: to recognize lordship properly, and not, through abjection of mind, to confuse and jumble together those things that are distinct. Furthermore, if it is so great and honorable to have served such beings, how great then must their mastery be reckoned? And if the knowledge itself is beatitude, how great, pray, is that which is known?

^C XII. This is what that great mystery desires for us: this in the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and the common name, faith and regeneration, the abjuration of atheism and the confession of deity. For this is that common name. Wherefore, to despise or to separate any one of the Three is to despise the confession itself—that is, the regeneration, the divinity, the deification, the hope. See what gifts the Spirit bestows upon us when we proclaim Him as God, and of what things He deprives us when He is spurned and rejected. For I forgo mentioning the terror and the wrath, whose threats are ^D directed not at those who worship, but at those who despise. And these things have been philosophized for you briefly in a dogmatic manner, not a contentious one; in a fisherman’s manner, not an Aristotelian one; spiritually, not with guile; ecclesiastically, not with street-talk; for profit, not for display; so that you might know that those of us who are declaiming against our opponents are thinking the same thing, and...

are inspired by the same spirit, and breathe the same truth. Do not be like those who are starving, gathering up our little defects—if one must call them faults or trivialities—for it is a sign of ultimate wretchedness not to have security in one’s own strengths, but to rely on and trust in the infirmities of others.

^B XIII. Behold, we join our right hands before your eyes. Behold what the Trinity, whom we equally honor and worship, has achieved. May this render you more gracious and cause you to think more rightly concerning religion. Would that we were heard, and that this day, which is called holy, might become a day not of disagreement, but of openness; not a monument of temptation, but a triumphant festival; so that our mutual concord, and that of almost the whole world, which was already in part healthy, is now recovering its health, and is beginning to be healthy, may also become for you a cause of salvation and renewal. O holy, and adorable, and long-suffering Trinity! For thou art long-suffering, who for so long bearest with those by whom thou art divided. O Trinity, of whom I have long since been deemed worthy to be a worshiper and a sincere herald! O Trinity, who shalt at some time be known by all, whether through illumination or through punishment! Mayest thou also accept those who now heap insults upon thee as thy worshipers, and may we not lose anyone, not even of the least, even if I have to suffer some loss of grace because of it; for I do not dare to speak as much as the Apostle.

XIV. What now? Are these things unpleasing to you, and is your tongue twisted and laboring to bring forth a refutation? We shall see this too in due time, when you have more leisure than we do; and we shall examine those witty and elegant offspring—or rather, miscarriages—of yours, when we have broken or crushed the eggs of the asps with sound and solid argumentation, and clearly demonstrated them to be empty and vain, and brought out into the open the basilisk of impiety hidden within them; a basilisk indeed, yet dead and imperfect and motionless, having died in the very pangs of birth, and, to use your own expression, "not existing" before it was brought forth—for I choose to use your own words, that I might find some favor with you—detestable for its conception no less than it is miserable for its miscarriage. This, believe me, will be granted to us by Him who has given us the power to walk upon the asp and the basilisk, and to tread upon serpents and scorpions; who will also crush Satan under our feet in haste, whether he be fallen like lightning from heaven because of his ancient splendor, or whether as a serpent fleeing because of his later crookedness and his transformation into a creature that crawls upon the earth, so that [we might diminish] some small part of the evils...

let us breathe, having escaped entirely from pain, and sorrow, and groaning, now and hereafter, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory and power for ever and ever. Amen.

ADMONITION ON ORATION XXIV

I. Before we arrive at the subject of this oration, we must weigh who this Cyprian is, whose praises Gregory here pursues so magnificently. For no small controversy exists among the learned on this matter. Some militate for Cyprian of Carthage, others for the Antiochene; and it seems very difficult to establish peace among the discordant in such a variety of opinions. For if one attends to these words of the Theologian (n. 6): "This Cyprian, formerly a great name among the Carthaginians, now however of the whole world," etc., and elsewhere (n. 12): "A pastor is created.... For he is placed over not only the Church of Carthage, nor of Africa, by him and because of him even now famous and celebrated, but also," etc., it will indeed seem that the Theologian wished to celebrate the name of Cyprian of Carthage. ^A However, the sequence of the oration exhibits many things that can in no way match this Cyprian, and indeed which are repugnant. Must it be said, therefore, that Gregory erred and confused two Cyprians? Billius noted this (39); and to vindicate our Gregory from error or a lapse of memory, he fabricates a twin Cyprian born at Carthage; nor does he think it absurd that two men of the same name, born in the same city, occupied the same see at different times. But he immediately confesses that, "as we sometimes, deceived by the similarity of appearance, take one for the other in twin brothers; so Gregory, in the two men of the same name, joined by the similarity of many virtues, may have attributed to the Antiochene some things that were suited to the Carthaginian." The same knot of difficulty long held the learned Oxford editor of Cyprian of Carthage in uncertainty (40); but he approaches a different way of untying the knot. For Fell, moved by a veneration toward our Gregory equal to that of Billius, lest the Theologian be blamed in this matter, recognizes only one Cyprian, and that the Carthaginian, but counts what is related of the Antiochene among fables. Nay, he even openly declares that Gregory could not have erred so carelessly as to confuse the bishop of Antioch with the one of Carthage.

II. But there remain most ancient monuments by which it is plainly demonstrated that Cyprian, bishop of Antioch in Phoenicia, did indeed exist. ^B For it is established among the learned that the deeds of Cyprian the Antiochene and Justina were written immediately after their martyrdom. A work still exists divided into three parts or books. The first part embraces the wonderful conversion of Cyprian and Justina. In the second, Cyprian weaves a confession of his life and crimes, and furthermore a series of magical arts. In the third, finally, the martyrdom of both is described. The second part of this work, already found in Latin in the Bodleian library, had been printed by Fell at Oxford in the year 1700. But the twin parts, namely the first and the third, which had not yet appeared, being found also in Latin in the ancient codex of St. Owen of Rouen, were published in their *Thesaurus of Anecdotes* (41) by our learned investigators of antiquity, Dom Edmund Martene and Dom Ursinus Durand, with the addition of the second part, which had already been made public by the Oxford editor. The primitive text of the first and third parts is indeed missing. But the second part, namely the confession of Cyprian, has come down to us intact in Greek. The Colbert library provided this. But after the old Latin interpretation published by Fell was compared with the Greek text, it seemed to teem with so many and such serious flaws and errors that it became necessary to publish a new translation of this work into Latin. Dom Prudentius Maran undertook this work; and he published the confession of Cyprian the Antiochene, rendered into Latin by himself, with the Greek text in the year 1727, at the end of his new edition of the *Works of Saint Cyprian of Carthage*.

III. Furthermore, Eudocia Augusta, wife of Theodosius the Younger, wrote of the Acts of Cyprian and Justina in heroic verse, ^C according to Photius (42), likewise in three books, and in the same order that we just reported, not to the license of art, but to the faith of history. Gregory himself cites the confession of Cyprian, and commemorates concerning him the same things as Eudocia. "Who then," says Dom Prudentius Maran (43), "can persuade himself that he never existed, of whom monuments exist from the time in which he is said to have lived, of almost equal age? Fables in remote ages

seek lurking places; nor does anyone lie so ineptly as to pretend that events which no one remembers having seen or heard occurred recently in the clearest light and before the eyes of all." But while the learned man admits that it cannot be denied that a Cyprian of Antioch existed, he is nevertheless held back from agreeing, both by Gregory and by Tillemont and others, who deemed that confession to have been written by the martyr himself. He relates many things which indeed seem to confirm his own opinion. For that confession, besides certain effects of the magic art that smack of fable, also includes a long description of magical arts, and exquisite and frigid intricacies concerning singular forms of vices, which indicate a mind more curious than one affected by the sorrow of sin. But although he doubts whether that work is truly the genuine offspring of Cyprian, he nevertheless thinks that his conversion is not to be ascribed to fables, nor, if someone chose this noble deed of the martyr in which to labor by adorning and amplifying it, should the main body of the history be called into suspicion for that reason; especially since that writer could have used more ancient monuments, which "The Acts of Cyprian and Justina," as it reads toward the end of the little book concerning the passion of both, "contained as written from beginning to end."

IV. Therefore, from these monuments it ought to be clear to everyone that a Cyprian of Antioch truly existed. Such great and clear testimonies survive regarding this matter that a prudent man can in no way reject them. Hence the learned, and especially Tillemont and D. Prudentius Maran, believe that two Cyprians must be distinguished, one of Carthage and the other of Antioch; the former of whom indeed suffered martyrdom at Carthage in the year 258, on the eighteenth day before the Kalends of October under the princes Valerian and Gallienus; but the latter at Nicomedia, on the sixth day before the Nones of October in the year 304, under the emperors Diocletian and Maximian, as Eudocia testifies, to whom in this matter, as Tillemont observes, greater faith is due than to our Gregory, who writes that Cyprian went into exile "under Decius." Furthermore, we consider that the Antiochene, as he was more widely known to the Orientals and closer to the times of Gregory, was praised in this oration; and with Tillemont and D. Prudentius Maran we modestly admit that Gregory made a mistake here, who referred so many things to the Antiochene, which actually belonged to the Carthaginian, that he seems to have fashioned one person out of two Cyprians. But it is a strange thing how he fell into this error; unless perhaps, as D. Prudentius Maran says, "this reason for excusing him seems more probable to us, namely, since a very recent acquaintance existed between him and those he was addressing, and he had returned in a temperate manner to the feast day itself after a few days' absence, as he himself testifies, it was easy enough to slip and err in so brief a space of time when it came to learning the facts accurately."

V. Moreover, this error detracts nothing from the merit of this oration. That force of genius and eloquence, which is admired in the other orations, flourishes in it. In a marvelous way, the orator exhibits and pursues the deeds of Cyprian and Justina; and he provokes the minds of the auditors to both their admiration and imitation. One must also note that famous invocation of Justina, in the very crisis of her temptation, to the Mother-of-God Virgin, by which she prayed "that the Virgin might bring help to a virgin in danger." For nowhere, in the fourth century, is the help and protection of the blessed Virgin Mary extolled as eloquently and clearly as in this oration. We have our adversaries who admit as much. Le Clerc himself, who often complained that Gregory had indulged in rhetoric more than was right, not daring to take refuge in his customary loophole, says: "There is nothing here in the words of Gregory where he invokes Cyprian, and expresses the zeal of Justina in invoking Mary—there is, I say, no rhetorical figure, no fiction, contrary to what one of our own number, named Cave, has thought." As for what year or in what place this oration was delivered, it is easy to gather, both from the various titles and from the series of the oration itself. It certainly seems strange that Nicetas thought it had been spoken at Nazianzus. For it is certain that Gregory had a "brief and recent" acquaintance with those whom he was addressing, *βραχεῖα συνήθεια*, as he himself speaks, and therefore it could in no way apply to the Nazianzen people. It does, however, perfectly befit the Constantinopolitans. Furthermore, the Theologian calls this oration "the first-fruits of my sermons," in order to signify that it was then for the first time that he was praising a holy martyr. It must be concluded, therefore, that it was delivered at Constantinople, and, as far as we can conjecture from what has been said, in the month of October of the year 379.

ORATION XXIV. On the praise of the holy martyr Cyprian, when Gregory had returned from the country the day after his solemn memorial.

I. Cyprian has almost escaped us; what a great misfortune it is...

^A even if we were otherwise afflicted with the vice of forgetfulness, to have needed to remember him; if indeed it is the best men who must be especially remembered, and those whose remembrance is at once holy and profitable. But let us repay this debt with interest, if we appear to have such resources, and are not struggling with total poverty and need. But even if we are found to be exceedingly poor, I do not doubt that that man, being endowed as he is with greatness of soul and modesty in all things, will easily grant pardon both for our delay and for our poverty; provided only that we give thanks to God for this, that his memory has not in the least escaped our souls. Truly, let us give thanks to God: for this is right; and that we may take our starting point from here, how fittingly, and by the beautiful measures of God—who constitutes and moderates all things with weight and measure—have we returned to you, from silence and solitude to speech, from the study of the martyrs to the martyrs themselves, from bodily rest to spiritual feasting! ^B

II. We were longing for you, O children, and with equal longing were we sought by you; for of this I am persuaded. Behold the candour of a father's heart; for I speak of what is my own, and I bear witness to your affection for me, and we have come together again, having been separated from one another just enough to recognize and test our longing by the distance, as painters test their tablets. How great a stimulus to memory is even the brief familiarity and acquaintance of friends, to those at least who are inclined to love by their character, and who imitate God’s love for the human race! And why, since we profess ourselves disciples of Christ, who for our sake emptied himself even to the form of a servant, and gathered to himself those who were strangers and foreigners to the heavens, why, I say, should we not cling to one another in mutual embrace of love, and keep ^C the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace, which is the mystery, or rather the chapter, of the law and the prophets?

III. Now therefore we have this one first benefit, that we have hastened as quickly as possible to our mutual embraces. For zeal does not suffer delay; and for those who suffer with desire, an entire life is equal to a single day. Secondly, that which ^D

Panegyric on the holy philosophers and martyrs Cyprian and Justina

sacred mysteries of the martyrs, nor to enjoy the delight and refreshment that is afforded to us from this. For, as for other things, I acknowledge that I am more sluggish than any man; since I committed myself to Christ, I have cast off every desire, and I am not held by any of the things that seem pleasant and desirable to others: not wealth, which is dragged and tossed about on the ground, not pleasures of the belly, and satiety that brings forth lust, not soft and flowing clothing, not the transparency and graces of precious stones, not the hearing which bewitches, not the smell which effeminates, nor the applause of the crowd and circular theaters which stir up madness—things that I have long since abandoned for those who desire them. I do not care for those things that are the descendants of that first taste from which we have perished; but I truly condemn the great folly of those who endure being overcome by these things, and who corrupt the nobility of the soul through such petty concerns, and who—as if they were standing on firm ground—attach themselves to things that are fleeting. But I am held and contained by that other ^B thing with such insatiable longing, and I accept this passion within myself. I am delighted by the honors of the martyrs, and I exult in the blood of the athletes; others have the struggles and the victory, but the crowns are mine. To such a degree do I seize upon this glory, and in such a way do I make these noble deeds my own.

IV.

V.

And I am affected in a greater measure by thy virtue, and my memory is refreshed, and I am carried away by joy as if possessed, and in a certain manner I am united to thy martyrdom, and I am a companion and sharer in the struggle, and I am wholly transformed into thee: whether it be that thy doctrine and eloquence win me to thee, in which thou didst as much excel other mortals as those endowed with reason excel the brute beasts (for there arises, I know not how, a bond of affection among those who are joined together in some pursuit or order, no less than among those who are bound by ties of blood and kinship); or whether this should be assigned to thy sudden and admirable transformation, which exceeds the power of all speech and is superior to every example. For the sun is sweeter after the cloud by which it was formerly obscured; and spring is sweeter after the sadness of winter; and more pleasant appears the smiling calm, and the expanse of the peaceful sea, when, after the tumult of the winds and the swelling waves, it sports upon the shores. ^B

VI. This Cyprian, O men (that those of you who know may receive greater pleasure from the very commemoration, and those who do not know may learn the most beautiful of all our stories, the common glory and ornament of Christians), this Cyprian, I say, a name once great among the Carthaginians, but now among the whole world, conspicuous in wealth, illustrious in power, noble by birth (for indeed, the greatest proof of nobility is to be a senator and to hold a primary seat in that order), the flower of youth, an elaborated work of nature, the leader of doctrine, as much of philosophy as of any other kind of learning, and that in whatever way thou might wish to regard them; so that in him, the knowledge of various arts was more wonderful than the exact and perfect knowledge of any one of them, and again, the exquisite and in all ways absolute perception of each individual art had more to wonder at than the collected knowledge of the various arts: or, to explain these things with a clearer distinction, he surpassed some in the one praise, some in the other, but he surpassed all in everything. ^C

VII. And his very books bear witness to his erudition, which he wrote, numerous and brilliant, on our behalf, after he had transferred his learning for the better by the kindness of God, who makes and changes all things, and subjected foolishness to reason. But what method I should now hold, speaking from this point, and whither I should turn myself, I am clearly uncertain. For I fear lest I should have a speech that is too long and altogether untimely, if I were to undertake to commemorate all of Cyprian's acts; and, on the other hand, lest I should punish those who are present with the greatest loss, if I should pass over anything. In order, therefore, that I may walk in a middle path between the shortness of the time, and the yearning of the listeners, it seems to me that it must be done

^A in this way: let me leave the remaining matters to those who know them, so that they may explain them to those who are ignorant—if indeed there are any such—and from this fact both parties may derive equal benefit: both those who teach the virtues of this man, and those who learn them (since even the mere remembrance of such a man is a sanctification, and the discourse concerning him is a most weighty incentive to the pursuit of virtue). As for me, I shall briefly set forth one or two things concerning his life, which I could not bring myself to pass over, even had I wished.

VIII. I will speak, furthermore, of what the nature of his former life was, what the way of his salvation was, what his calling was, and what the change to a better state of life was. Indeed, I consider ^B those to be of a very slothful and abject mind who think that the champion is insulted by the remembrance of his more perverse deeds. For at that rate, neither would great Paul be praiseworthy to us, nor Matthew the publican—who must be counted among the most wicked of men—nor Cyprian himself. For one of them makes mention of his former persecutions and the changing of his zeal, so that, by comparing both, he may the more celebrate the benefactor; and the other adds the name of Publican to himself in the enumeration of the disciples, just as if it were some other badge of nobility and ornament; and the latter, by a long discourse, censures the baseness of his former life, so that he may offer even the confession of his crimes to God in place of a gift, and it may become a way of better hope for many of those who turn back from wickedness.

Consider, then, what his wickedness was, and how great and grievous its magnitude: he was a minister of demons, who later was a disciple of Christ; a most bitter persecutor, who later ^C was a great champion of the truth; a man who, in both word and deed—being powerful in both—disturbed our path, who later rendered excellent service to Christians in both respects. And how great was the summit of this evil, added to these things by the magical art, from which he had especially arrived at the fame he had among men! And how much, too, did bodily intemperance and lust—which has such power that it sometimes drives even wise men into madness and compels them to think basely, seizing reason as if by the bridle of a petulant and untamed colt—exaggerate these crimes!

IX. The discourse now comes to the very root of the evil. And let no one, looking at the beginning of Cyprian’s life, give himself over to pleasures; but rather, let him be brought to chastity by what came ^D at the end. There was a certain virgin of noble birth and character, distinguished in beauty and lineage, freeborn, and of such surpassing physical form that she was worthy of imitation because of the excellence of her morals. For her form was lovely, but much more admirable was the virtue of her soul. This was what rumor reported. It quickly wounded the young man, who saw a beauty like to no one else, but heard that it was joined with morals equal to it. Hear, virgins, and rejoice together, or rather, be even more…

for the narrative is a common ornament to both. ^A And the virgin was exceedingly beautiful in form. Let the divine David sing along with us concerning her, saying, "All the glory of the king's daughter is from within," a true bride of Christ, a hidden beauty, a living statue, an inviolable offering, a pathless sanctuary, a "garden enclosed," a "fountain sealed" (let Solomon also sing something to her), reserved for Christ alone.

Great Cyprian burned with love for her—I know not whence or how—for her who was in all respects secure and seemly. For greedy eyes touch even things that may not be touched, being the instrument most ready and most insatiable of all. And he was not only "burned," but he also tempted her. Oh, his simplicity, if he hoped to despoil her; or rather, oh, the impudence of him who dared such things and persuaded others to dare them! That same one, from the beginning, stole into paradise against the first creature; and he stood in the midst of the angels, demanding Job for torture; and finally, he did not hesitate to assault the Lord Himself, who was to destroy and put him to death, bringing temptation to the One who is not subject to any temptation (since he saw in the second Adam the manifestation of God), as if he would overcome Him as well. For he was ignorant that he would fall upon the Godhead by running toward the humanity. What wonder, then, if he attempts the holy soul and untouched body through Cyprian? ^C

X. But though he was the tempter, he used a pander—not some old woman fit for such matters, but a certain demon, a lover of bodies and of pleasure; for the apostate and envious powers are quick to perform services of this kind, seeking many companions in their own ruin. And the reward for this pandering was sacrifices and libations, and the intimacy contracted with him through blood and the savor of offerings; for such rewards were fitting for those who bestowed such favors. But when the girl perceived the evil and understood the snare (for pure and divine souls very quickly detect the wiles of the devil, however crafty and multifaceted he may be in his undertakings), what does she do, and what does she contrive against the architect of vice? Despairing of all other remedies, she flees to God, and takes her own Bridegroom as her patron and defender against the detestable desire, ^D He who once rescued Susanna and saved Thecla—the one from the bitter elders, and the other from the tyrant suitor and ty-

yet more cruel mother. ^A And who is this Bridegroom? It is Christ, who rebukes the spirits, sustains those who are sinking, walks upon the sea, and casts a legion of spirits into the abyss; who rescues the righteous man from the pit when he has been set as food for lions, and who by the stretching out of his hands attained victory over the beasts; who delivers the fugitive prophet, swallowed by the sea monster, yet holding his faith intact even within its very entrails; and who saves the youths in Assyria amidst the flames, having cooled the pyre through an angel, and joined the fourth to the three.

^B XI. Commemorating these things and more than these, and suppliantly beseeching the Virgin Mary to bring aid to the virgin in danger, she arms herself with the remedy of fasting and sleeping on the ground—at once obscuring the beauty of her form, which she regarded as a snare, in order to withdraw the material for the flame and consume the fuel of the passions, and also that she might render God propitious to herself through faith and humility. For God is delighted by nothing so much as by the voluntary affliction of the body, and it is His custom to repay mercy in kind with tears. I know that you are eager for the rest of the story. For you are anxious for the maiden, and no less for her lover, lest this love should end in a bad and fatal result for both. But be of good cheer. For this love becomes the provider of faith; and the lover, while seeking to betroth the virgin to himself, is betrothed by Christ; the flame of desires is extinguished, while the ^C flame of truth is kindled. How and in what way? Herein lies the most delightful part of the narrative for me. The virgin prevails; the demon is overcome. The tempter approaches the lover and declares that he has been defeated; he is held in contempt. Resenting this scorn, he takes vengeance upon the one who despised him. And what is this vengeance? He enters into the very man by whom he was previously worshipped, so that evil might be driven out by evil, and madness might become the cure for madness. From the virgin, truly, he is repelled just as some engine of war is repelled by a firm and strong wall, put to flight by words and prayers; but he struggles with the one by whom he had been sent. O miracle! He returned to the one by whom he had been cast like a javelin, and was strangling him, just like a second Saul.

^D XII. What, then, does the foolish, or rather, the sensible-though-seized lover do? He seeks deliverance from the evil, and finds it.

^A He flees to the God of Justina—just as Saul fled to the lyre and the music of David—and draws near to her Shepherd. He is purified, just as he was wounded by the sting of his longing, so too he is purified from the evil spirit through faith in Christ, and transforms his longing. For a long time he was disbelieved and sent away; for it seemed to the unbelievers and the miraculous that the outcome was impossible—that Cyprian could ever be numbered among Christians, even if all other men were to reach the faith. But he is changed nonetheless, and provides a clear proof of his conversion. He publicly displays his magical books; he celebrates a triumph over the weakness of that evil treasury; he proclaims their folly; he raises a bright flame from them and consumes the long-standing fraud with fire, yet the flame did not harm the flesh of one [who had been so engaged]; he departs from the demons and attaches himself to God. O the power of grace! How he who finds God even in an evil longing and spirit becomes a holy sheep of the holy fold; and, as I have heard from someone, even a temple-attendant—having prayed much, so that he might practice humility for the cleansing of his former arrogance. ^B Afterward he is created a pastor, and the best and most proven of pastors. For he is appointed not only over the Church of the Carthaginians, nor merely over Africa, which is even now famous and celebrated because of him and through him, but also over all the Western regions, and nearly all the Eastern, Southern, and Northern coasts as well, as far as his fame and the admiration for him have spread. Thus our Cyprian is made.

XIII.

^A Yet even if nothing of what was previously mentioned had existed for his praise, it would suffice to conquer all in the following respects. For, to cut short the intermediate matters: the contempt of riches, the overthrowing of pride, the discipline of the body and a purity that was an antagonist to former passions, the philosophic quality of his attire, the loftiness combined with humanity in his dealings—such that he stood equally apart from both meanness and arrogance—the sleeping on the ground, the vigils, which, although a late learner of such things, he mastered by a great deal over those who had taken them up before him; the zeal regarding the Word, from which he educated the entire character, cleansed the ignorance of dogmas, adorned the lives of men, and brought back the divinity of the sovereign and kingly Trinity—which was being divided by some, and by others again being contracted—to its ancient state, remaining within the boundaries of a pious union and enumeration; that I may sum these up, I shall, on account of the boundless length, bring the discourse to a close along with the account of his life.

^B XIV. Decius was raging against us, and was devising all kinds of punishments; some of the terrible things were already present, and others were imminent. With equal exertion he strove both to capture Christians and to surpass the persecutors before him, or rather, to capture and bring into his power either all the Christians, or Cyprian alone. For by as much as he knew the man to excel in piety and glory, by so much the more illustrious and magnificent ^C did he see the victory would be for himself, were he to overcome him. For the former case meant mastering only Christians, but this meant mastering also philosophy itself, and the Word. And he considered it an excellent piece of military strategy to cut off the tongue first, and thus to lead away as mute and irrational those who were supported by it; not rightly, indeed, nor piously did he conceive these things, yet not altogether without reason, at least regarding his own will and attempt; ^D and the event showed this. For since he, having manfully and nobly cast off every attack and trial, like some rock upon the shore against the onslaught of the waves, was finally condemned by him to exile, the nobleman did not cherish his own lot, nor did he find satisfaction in being spared; nor did he consider the safety of the body, or rather, this ignominy, to be more to be desired than the danger of the soul, and the overlooking of others who were in danger at that time, with no one to train them and encourage them toward the contest. For it is no small thing to be able to provide even a word as an addition of courage to those who are stripping themselves for the stadium of virtue.

^A XV. Therefore, although he was absent in body, he was present in spirit, and he remained involved in the same contest as those who were fighting; and where his tongue could not assist, he assisted them by writing. How so? He becomes a trainer even while in exile, composing exhortatory discourses and chronicling piety, and by his epistles alone he makes more witnesses than all the rest who were present in person could produce among those who were then struggling. For he persuades them not to prefer country, or lineage, or wealth, or power, or any other of the things that lie upon the ground and are perishable, over the truth and those rewards of virtue which are laid up in heaven for those who undergo danger for the sake of what is good. And this, he says, is the most excellent of all business deals: to purchase the kingdom of heaven at the price of a little blood, and to receive the eternity of glory in exchange for temporal blessings. For he maintained that for great and noble men there is one fatherland, namely, that Jerusalem which is perceived by the mind, not those which we see here, circumscribed by narrow boundaries and inhabited by one set of men after another; and one splendor of lineage, which consists in the preservation of the divine image and the assimilation, as far as is possible for those bound in the shackles of flesh and able to receive only a slight outflow of the primary Good, to the Archetype; and one sovereignty, which consists in power against the wicked one, and in that invulnerable and unconquerable state of the soul in the contests for the sake of piety, when vice is fighting against virtue, and the world against the world—the dissolving ^B world against the one that stands firm—and a bitter judge of the contest against valiant athletes, and Belial draws up his battle line against Christ. For these reasons, he persuaded them to despise swords, to consider the fire cold, to think the most savage of wild beasts tame, to regard hunger as the highest luxury, and to pass by the tears, and sorrows, and lamentations of friends and relatives as the baits of the devil and hindrances to the path that leads to God. For he considered these things to be the mark of manly and noble souls and of a prudent mind. And he himself, who spoke and wrote these things, was a close example of them, inasmuch as he had counted all things as refuse, that he might gain Christ.

^C XVI. With this disposition Cyprian was endowed, and by arming Christians with sermons of this kind for the contest, he produced very many athletes for the cause. And what reward did he...

obtain? How abundant and overflowing! For after all those whom he had sent before him, by the beheading of his own head he attains the palm of martyrdom, and puts this final crown upon his many torments. Thus is he offered to Christ, thus is he transferred to Christ—Cyprian, great in impiety, but greater in piety; he, I say, who was great both as a persecutor and as a victor; admirable no less for the change of his life than for his virtue. For it is not so great a thing to have kept the pattern of good intact as it is to have innovated in the service of God. The former is a matter of habit, the latter a matter of prudent counsel; the former is found in the many, but for the latter there are few examples. ^B

XVII. But what of that other miracle of his? Let us dwell a little longer in this discourse, that we may receive grace from the martyr. Such was the life of the man, and such the manner of his conflict. And when he brought his life to a close (if it is right to use this word, and not rather call his passage a departure to God, or a fulfillment of desire, or a loosening of bonds, or a casting off of a burden), here also a miracle was manifested, worthy of that most holy life. For although the name of Cyprian was most clear and celebrated among all—not only among Christians, but even among those who were in the opposing ranks (for virtue is held in equal veneration by all)—yet his body lay hidden, and this treasure was kept concealed by a certain woman fervently devoted to piety, and this for a very long time; whether it was that God wished in this way to honor a pious matron, and for that reason allowed her to hold the martyr in her embrace, or whether He was exercising our longing, to see if we would be distressed by this loss, and take it hard to be deprived of such holy relics. But because the God of the martyrs could not endure to make the common good of all the private possession of one person, nor to cause harm to the common interest by the grace bestowed upon her, He brings the body to light through a revelation, and grants this honor again to a worthy woman; that women also might be sanctified thereby, just as they had formerly brought forth Christ and had announced His resurrection to the disciples—so indeed now in the case of Cyprian, the common benefit of the world, one woman revealed him, and the other delivered him up. This is the last of his praises. Thus does he, who is worthy not to remain hidden, come into our midst, and he is not permitted to keep his own concealment, since he is indeed superior to and more exalted than the honors paid to bodies.

^B XVIII. These are the things we had to say, and I do not know if there is any need to say more. For even if we should extend our speech at length, we could not bring forth anything that would in any way correspond to his virtues and the estimation which each person has conceived of him. Yet we have discussed these things so that we might pay the tribute of honor owed to him to the best of our ability. It is now your task to add what remains yourselves, so that you yourselves may also offer some gift to the martyr: namely, the suppression of demons, the driving away of diseases, the foreknowledge of future things—all being things which even the ashes of Cyprian accomplish, provided faith is present, as those who have experienced this know, and as those who have transmitted the miracle to us and are now to hand it down to future time understand. Indeed, offer things greater than these, as is fitting for those who truly and sincerely honor him: the maceration of the body, the progress of the soul, the flight from vice, the increase of virtue. Let the virgins offer the mortification of the flesh; let wives offer the adornment of virtue rather than that of the body; let the young offer fortitude in restraining the perturbations of the soul; the elders counsel and prudence; the nobles equity in the establishing of laws; the commanders of the military mildness; those who are students of doctrine and eloquence, an apt and reasonable speech; and, that I may say something concerning our own affairs, let the priests offer the discipline of sacred matters, let the people offer obedience; those of you who are in sorrow, consolation; those in a flourishing state of affairs, fear; the rich, largesse; the poor, thanksgiving; and finally, let all offer, as a kind of gift, the struggle against that wicked and savage persecutor, so that he may not wound us openly, nor attack us secretly with arrows, nor wage war as darkness, nor deceive us while posing as an angel of light, and furtively drive us headlong into the abyss of eternal destruction.

^C XIX. It is a serious and dangerous thing to be captured through the eyes, to be wounded by the tongue, to be ensnared by the ears, to be inflamed by boiling anger, to be brought down by taste, to be mollified by touch, and to turn the weapons of salvation into weapons of death; whereas we ought, on the contrary, protected by the shield of faith, to stand in battle array against the wiles of the Evil One; and, having won the victory with Christ, and having contended in a struggle equal to that of the martyrs, to hear that great voice: Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared 40 for you, in which is the dwelling of all who rejoice and who lead the eternal dance: in which so-

and a voice of exultation ^A, and a purer and more complete illumination of the divinity, which we now enjoy only in riddles and shadows. Cyprian is more delighted by this kind of honor than by all others gathered together. This gift he practiced in his life and customs both while he was among men, and now that he is absent, he commends it to all through my voice—a voice which, I beseech you, do not despise or hold of no account, if you have any regard for his endurance in the bitterness of his sufferings, or for the struggles he undertook in defense of virtue, or for me, who am performing this embassy before you. You have, O divine and holy soul, the first-fruits of my words. You have the prize both for your doctrine and for your struggle: not the Olympic olive, nor the Peloponnesian apples, nor the Isthmian pine, nor the Nemean ^B celery, with which wretched youths were once adorned, but an oration—the thing most appropriate for the servants of the Word; and if it has attained the merit of your struggles and doctrines, I attribute this to the Word. But do you look down upon us graciously from above, and direct our words and life, and pastor this holy flock, or assist him who pastors, guiding him in all other things, as far as possible, toward all that is best, and warding off those heavy wolves, those captors of syllables and words; and procure for us the fuller and brighter splendor of the holy Trinity, at which you now stand—the Trinity which we adore, which we celebrate, ^C and in which we have our citizenship, adoring the Father in the Son, and the Son in the holy Spirit; and may we ourselves, when our struggle is over, stand beside it, pure and free from all stumbling, that we may enjoy it perfected in a perfect way, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be all glory, honor, and power for ever and ever. Amen.

NOTICE ON ORATION XXV

I. Although it is certain that Maximus was celebrated by Gregory, we nevertheless do not change the title of this oration. For all the manuscripts—at least those we have seen—without exception, and with no scholiast or interpreter protesting, display the name not of "Maximus," but of "Hero." Therefore, we believe that the received reading of the inscription must be religiously retained. It is worth the effort to investigate what the mind of the learned has been regarding this inscription. Jerome asserts (66) that Gregory in this oration sang the praises of the philosopher Maximus, and he openly declares that the name of "Hero" was falsely written above it by someone; and that this happened "because there was another book containing a vituperation of the same Maximus."

^A Likewise, the holy Doctor adds, "it was not permitted him both to praise and to vituperate the same man at the same time." But Billius (67), although he does not deny that the praises of Maximus are contained in this oration, nevertheless thinks that the name of Maximus was not changed by someone else, but by Gregory himself on purpose, "so that," he says, "the name of a most ungrateful man might not exist in his monuments;" and he marvels that this was not observed by Elias. But this kind of argument seems altogether feeble and weak, especially since Gregory himself, to omit other things, elsewhere does not deny "that he had praised Maximus" (68). Others, among whom is Tillemont, conjecture that this philosopher was known by two names, being called Hero among the Egyptians, from whence he originated, and Maximus at Constantinople, where he became too famous. Perhaps this conjecture of most learned men might seem more probable; but the opinion of Jerome, so expressly recorded, still holds us in suspense. For if Maximus had truly been known by two names, who would believe, as Tillemont himself (68*) observes, that Jerome, who associated so familiarly with Gregory at Constantinople, was ignorant of it?

II. Cyril of Scythopolis, in the *Life of Saint Euthymius and Saint Sabas*, among the chronologists, after Hippolytus and Epiphanius, places a certain "Hero, a philosopher and confessor." Hence Cotelerius, conjecturing thus, notes (69): "Neither am I ashamed to be ignorant of what was unknown to men by far the most learned; nor will I remain silent about my own conjecture, or, if you will, my divination, whether this philosopher and confessor Hero is the Maximus the Cynic whom Gregory the Theologian praises under these names in his oration; and who, as Jerome bears witness, wrote a remarkable book against the Arians, and perhaps left behind other monuments of his genius, and inserted somewhere into his works something chronological, on account of which he is cited by our author along with Hippolytus and Epiphanius." But we do not think that this should be rashly attributed to this conjecture, since nothing is found in Jerome concerning this chronology of Maximus or Hero. For it would first have to be proven that Hero, who is cited by Cyril among the chronologists, was in truth the same [person as] Maximus the Cynic; which seems to us truly very difficult, not to say impossible, to prove. It would not indeed be miraculous that certain Maximi or Heroes, philosophers and confessors, existed in nearly the same times; but what is most to be wondered at is that Gregory, who in other encomia, both of Athanasius and Cyprian, calls them frequently by their proper names, did not once name either Maximus or Hero in this oration. Perhaps, therefore, it would be better to adhere simply to Jerome's opinion than to be perpetually hanging upon conjectures. ^B

III. It may also be objected whether the Maximus praised by Gregory is the same as the one to whom the honorable epistles of Athanasius and Basil exist. As far as Athanasius is concerned, we do not altogether agree with our contemporaries who have prepared the new edition of the works of the holy Doctor. For they advise thus on this matter (70): "This philosopher Maximus, to whom Saint Athanasius sends an epistle, does not seem to be any other, in truth, than that Alexandrian whose praises Gregory celebrates in his oration, whose name was later suppressed, and, as Jerome narrates, the false name of Hero was written above it." But if Athanasius’s own epistle, as well as the circumstances of the time and events, are carefully weighed, many things will occur which little favor their opinion. And first, there is no doubt that this Maximus, in the book which he sent to Athanasius, taught many things, not only against the Arians but also against the Gentiles, Jews, Manichæans, and other heretics. This is gathered from the very response of Athanasius. For the holy Doctor admits that, in dictating the response, he borrows from that very book whatever he treats concerning the divinity of Christ. He also thinks that nothing should be added to the writing of Maximus. "They are sufficient," he says (71), "which you yourself have written. But do you duly instruct the infidels, ἀπίστους. For perhaps it will happen that, their ignorance abandoned, they may arrive at a knowledge of the truth." Furthermore, he praises the piety, doctrine, and ardent zeal for the truth of Maximus; which surely cannot be referred to our Cynic. Moreover, Athanasius was writing to his Maximus, as it appeared to our contemporaries, in the year 371, and he departed from the living in the year 373. But at that time Maximus the Cynic had not yet assumed the mask of piety, since not until the year 379, returning from exile, was he received at Constantinople by Gregory. Therefore, Athanasius did not write to Maximus the Cynic, as his editors falsely thought. ^C

IV. Much less difficulty occurs regarding that Maximus to whom Saint Basil wrote. To fully untie the knot, it will be sufficient to reveal the morals and character of both Maximi. Basil’s Maximus was indeed a philosopher, not a Cynic, or one from the Porch, but a Christian. "From a foreign root," says Basil (71*), "from an ample family and an illustrious race, he was transferred to the evangelical life" (that is, in the parlance of the holy Fathers, to the monastic life), "he restrained his youth with reason, he subjected the lust of the flesh to the empire of reason, and embraced a humility consistent with a Christian." So great was his piety, so great his zeal for virtue and religion, that Basil himself, had he not been burdened by old age and infirmity, and hindered by the various cares of the Church, would have betaken himself to him with a desire to visit him. This is Basil’s Maximus. But how much that other Maximus, or Hero, whom Gregory celebrated differs from him! For he was Egyptian by birth, an Alexandrian by country, clear by no nobility of blood, although he had parents who were not only Christians, but even, if faith is to be given to the wicked son, ^D

[ORATION XXV. — IN PRAISE OF HERON THE PHILOSOPHER]

^A and parents, was not only a Christian, but one of Christ’s martyrs, he was by profession a philosopher, though certainly not a Christian, but a Cynic. We shall say nothing here of his shameless character, his gluttony, his vice, and his ignorance, all of which Gregory treats at length in his *Poem on his own life* (72), where he retracts his praises. This man, indeed, due to certain shameful crimes, was beaten with rods around the year 374, and afterwards deported to the island of the Oasis; from whence, having escaped after four years and wandered far, leaving behind him everywhere the traces of his wickedness, he finally arrived at Constantinople in the year 379. Cloaked under the guise of piety and religion, he approached Gregory, and feigned that he had endured scourging and exile for the name of Christ. The Theologian, deceived by his deceits and simulations, received him lovingly, enrolled him among his intimate friends, and subsequently delivered this oration in his praise.

V. It must truly seem to everyone a wonder how greatly Gregory was deluded by Maximus. For, if no other contrary records existed regarding this Cynic, one would certainly have to think well of him. For thus the orator begins: "I will praise the philosopher," and, having briefly set forth the advantages and utility of philosophy, addressing Maximus who was present, he continues (n. 2): "Come hither, O most excellent of philosophers, and indeed of the martyrs of the truth... Come hither, confuter of adulterous wisdom... Come hither, you who in a foreign garb profess our own... Come hither, and approach more closely to the mystic table... Come hither, that I may bind you with our crowns, and with a clear voice, not in the midst of Olympia, nor in the narrow theater of Greece, but before God, and the angels, and the whole assembly of the Church, I may proclaim you a victor." Who, upon hearing such things, would not admire Maximus as an athlete of the truth, a shield of the faith, a pillar of the Church, a most bitter enemy of error, and a most firm bulwark of divinity? Then the Theologian (n. 3) extols not his "blood," but "the nobility of his piety and character"; and running through whatever afflictions and exiles the hypocrite claimed to have suffered for Christ, he presents him to his audience as a martyr of Christ and an exemplar of all virtues. But truly, Gregory’s error is to be pardoned, into which he fell all the more easily as he himself was more guileless. For upright men readily believe in goodness, while they are slow and tardy in suspecting any evil. His error, I say, is to be pardoned, of which Gregory so repented that he not only recanted the praises with which he had celebrated Maximus, but even offered his "tongue to be cut out" (73), and sentenced himself to silence if he were not granted forgiveness. Moreover, in this oration, the orator inserts many things concerning the Church’s persecution under the Arian emperors, which are certainly more worthy than what he celebrated concerning the Cynic. We think it was delivered at Constantinople at the end of the year 379, with the learned present.

ORATION XXV. In praise of Heron the philosopher.

^A I. I shall praise the philosopher, even if I am weary in body: for he is a philosopher; and I shall praise him most deservedly. For he is a philosopher, and I a servant of wisdom; so that my praise is for the sake of the Word, so that, if nothing else, I may philosophize this at least: to admire a philosopher. For either one must philosophize, as in my argument, or honor philosophy, if we do not intend to fall altogether far from the good, nor to be condemned for unreasonableness, having been born reasonable and speeding through the Word toward the Word. And may this man philosophize for us as one of the others in being praised, and endure the eulogy. For we shall not praise him to grant a favor (we know the philosopher’s lack of desire for honors, and indeed the discourse would add nothing to the facts (76), except that it might even diminish his dignity (77) through its own weakness), but so that we might benefit ourselves.

^B For this [is not...]

despise and count for naught such a thing, since its very task and study are to earn distinction in human life. The first way of earning distinction is the commendation of honorable things. For praise ^A begets zeal; zeal, virtue; and virtue, blessedness; and this is the summit of things desired, and toward which every motion of the upright man strives.

II. Come now, therefore, O best and most perfect of philosophers—and I shall add, of the martyrs of the truth. Come, confute for me that counterfeit wisdom which consists merely in words and which, through the allurements of speech (79), scatters tricks like a veil, yet is able or willing to construct nothing beyond this. You, who are dextrous in virtue—in as much as it consists of both contemplation and action—who professes our philosophy in a foreign habit; or perhaps not even a foreign one, if the whiteness and splendor of garments ^B are angelic when they are depicted in bodily form; a symbol, I believe, of their natural purity. Come to me, philosopher and wise man (for how long will that love of wisdom be boasted of, if wisdom is nowhere to be found?), and be a dog (82), not in impudence, but in freedom of speech; not in gluttony, but in living for the day; not in barking, but in the keeping of what is good, and in the wakefulness undertaken for the salvation of souls; and furthermore, in the fact that you soothe those who are familiar and domestic in virtue, but bark at those who are strangers. Come, stand near these holy things (83) and this mystic table, and near me, who through these fulfill the sacred office of deification; draw closer, to which discourse, and life, and the purification that is acquired through suffering lead you. Come, that I may bind you with our crowns, and proclaim you with a clear voice, not in the midst of Olympia, nor in a small theater of Greece, nor having contended in the pancration, or boxing, or the foot-race, or any of those lesser competitions, and for small prizes, nor for the honor of some hero (84) or demons, who are honored by calamity and myth (for such are those things that are honorably proclaimed concerning them, having received time as an ^C aid to folly (85) and an established custom); but in the presence of God, and angels, and the whole fullness of the Church; and, having conquered the falsehood of heresies, to the honor of the living God, and the...

instruction of those who are to be trained by his own sufferings, and for whom the prize is the kingdom of heaven, and to become God, being higher than any sense of pain. ^A

III. What, however, is this proclamation? If you seek a briefer and better-known one, it is of this kind: This is a most true athlete of the truth, and a champion of the Trinity even unto blood, and a pursuer of those who were persecuting him, by the alacrity with which he underwent the wrongs they inflicted; for nothing so overcomes the persecutor as the alacrity of the one who suffers. But if you demand a more complete and fuller one: This man is the best of the best, and the noblest of the noble. By nobility, I do not mean that which the many imagine: far be it! It is not ours, nor is it philosophical, to admire that which flows from myths and tombs and from eyebrows long since rotted away, nor that which arises from blood and letters, which nights bestow, and which perhaps the hands of kings—or even of those who are not noble—command to be nobility, as if it were some other thing. ^B Rather, I mean that which piety and character mark and indicate, and which is an ascent toward that primary Good from which we have drawn our origin. There is one proof of this nobility: for he is not only an athlete of ours of noble birth, but he is also from martyrs, so that he had before him at home the paradigm of virtue. As for his city, if the consideration of wisdom is to be held, he is a citizen of the whole world (for the Cynic spirit does not endure to be circumscribed by narrow borders); ^C but if we look at the body, he is a native of the city of the Alexandrians, which is reckoned immediately with yours, or certainly after it—a city which, while excelling all cities in all things, yet has nothing so characteristic as the fervor of its souls, and that which is most excellent in it, Christianity, and the disposition regarding this, which begins from the will but is confirmed by nature. For when fervor is added to piety, it becomes zeal; and zeal is the safeguard of faith. ^D

IV. Having been nourished and educated in this way, as was to be expected for one born of such stock and who was to become such a man, and since the time seemed to demand that he should establish for himself a definite way of life (which I consider to be of such great moment that I believe the foundation for the right or wrong conducting of the whole of life is placed in it), he began to ponder something greater and more noble than is customary for the many. For he despises delights, and wealth, and power more than those who excel in these things usually despise others. And he regards and casts away delights as the primary hardship and affliction, wealth as the extreme poverty, and power as the highest weakness. For nothing truly possesses the name of good if it neither makes its possessors better—but rather, as a rule, worse—nor remains with those who have it to the end. He takes upon himself philosophy, the mistress of the passions, and approaches the Good in a courageous manner, and...

before he is separated from the mass of the body, he separates himself from the mass of the body, rises above things seen by the eyes, and dedicates his whole self, through the greatness of his character and the generosity of his will, to firm and stable things. Having thus established himself in his soul, he did not even admit into his deliberation which philosophy he ought rather to follow—the external and profane one, which in the habit and guise of philosophy simulates the shadows of truth, or our own, which is indeed humble in appearance and abject, but in its hidden aspect is sublime and leads to God. ^B Indeed, he immediately chooses our own by all votes, so to speak, in no way allowing his mind to be turned toward worse things, nor to be distracted by the elegance of well-ordered speech, on account of which those who profess the doctrines of the Gentiles exalt their minds. This, however, he first philosophizes about: to know which of our own ways is both the more eligible and the more profitable, both for himself and for all Christians. For he believed it to be the mark of a most perfect and most wise soul to have a rationale that unites private utility with public advantage. For he thought that no one of us is born for himself alone, but also for all who are partakers of the same nature, and who have been created by the same One, and for the same ends.

V. Furthermore, when he saw that the private and solitary life, remote and alien from the commerce of the multitude, is indeed great and noble and higher than human affairs, yet remains fixed ^C within those who perform this kind of life with praise, and rejects the communion of charity and philanthropy, which he knew to be among the first of the virtues to be praised; and that it possesses this further disadvantage, that the virtue of those who live in such a way cannot be tested, since it is neither exercised in the conduct of affairs nor comes into comparison with others;—on the other hand, the life that enjoys the society and frequency of men, besides the fact that many things occur daily in which one can make trial of one's own virtue, is also diffused for the utility of many, and approaches near to the divine dispensation, which founded the whole mass of things, bound them with the bonds of friendship, and our race—which, on account of the approach of vice, had been thrust down and cast away from the good—recalled to its pristine dignity ^D through that familiarity and custom of life which He had with us: when he revolved and weighed these things in his soul, and at the same time deemed it worth the effort to repress the pride and insolence of the Greeks, who put on a show of gravity with their cloak and promised beard, what does he do, and

^A VI. For this reason, he sends away and repels as far as possible the schools of the Peripatetics, the Academies, and the venerable Stoa, together with the random chance of Epicurus, along with his atoms and pleasure, having crowned them with wool (as a certain poet of theirs crowned their own poet), and casts them aside. As for the Cynic sect, having spat out its impiety while praising its austerity, this is what you now see: a dog against those who are truly dogs, a philosopher against the unwise, and a Christian for the sake of all, overcoming the arrogance of the former by the similarity of his habit, and refuting the absurdity of some of our own by the novelty of his dress, showing that piety does not consist in small things, nor philosophy in a gloomy countenance, but in the firmness of the soul, the purity of the mind, and a genuine inclination toward the good. Whatever our outward form may be, and with whomever we may converse, whether we retire our minds ^B from the senses while alone, or whether we live in the midst of the common crowd of men as if in secret, while we dwell among those who do not philosophize at all, we cultivate the study of philosophy. And just as that ark of Noah, which in the flood escaped the force of the flood, and that great spectacle of Moses, that is, the bush of the mountain which the burning fire did not consume, in the same way we too should contract no harm from the contagion of the crowd—just as a diamond is not affected by those who strike it—and should strive to the best of our ability that others may be made better through us. The fruit of this philosophy is not cities fashioned by speech (a kind of "scindapsus," as they themselves say, and "tragelaphs," which language alone constructs), nor certain categories, analyses, and mixtures; nor symbamata and parasymbamata, and that technologized wisdom; nor lines that exist nowhere, nor the weaving of stars and ^C figures devised against the Providence of God. For he always held these things to be of secondary importance, and touched upon them only in passing and as if in jest, and only to the extent that he might not be mocked and derided by those who profess to hold the knowledge of these things.

^A VII. But what was his primary and most ancient study? To argue for right and justice before those in authority, and to use freedom of speech before kings, just as that excellent David once did, who spoke before kings and was not confounded [*]; to restrain the foolishness of the common crowd, which is agitated like the waves of the sea, the power of those holding authority as they rage, the infirmity of those factions that are in revolt, the boorishness of the uneducated, the arrogance of the learned, riches that insolently exalt themselves, satiety that behaves petulantly and insultingly, poverty that is prone to wrongdoing, an anger that is headlong and carries away the reason, the immoderation of pleasure, the incontinence of laughter, the heavy anxiety of grief, the instability of youth, the sloth of old age, the imbecility of mind, the solitude of widowhood, and the desperation of childlessness. ^B Will not any man in his right mind prefer these things, by a great margin, to syllogisms and lines, and to the gaping gaze at the stars? Let him consider this: for if everyone gathered together to devote their study and effort to the conclusion of syllogisms, or to geometry, or to astronomy, our life would benefit nothing from this; nay, rather, it would be necessary for all things to be dissolved and brought to ruin. Conversely, if those duties which I have enumerated were removed from our midst, there would be a total disturbance and confusion of all things. Why is it necessary to say how much more sublime and excellent these [virtues] are than the vanity of Antisthenes, the gluttony of Diogenes, and the promiscuous marriage of Crates? Yet, out of reverence for their names, let us spare them too, so that they themselves might also derive some fruit from this man’s philosophy. But as for us, so that we may cut to the middle—that is, to his temperance, his continence, his modesty, the sweetness of his character, his affability, his humanity, and the other virtues in which he surpassed all mortals—let us turn our discourse to that which is indeed last in order, but first in dignity and power.

^C VIII. There was once that time when we were in a state of calm from the storms of heresies, when those [followers of] Simon and Marcion, and certain Valentinians, and the Basilidians, and the Cerdonians, and Cerinthians too, and Carpocratians, and all the nonsense and trickery surrounding them—who for a very long time had divided the God of all things, and had waged war for the sake of the "Good" against the Creator—were at length swallowed up by their own abyss, as was meet, and were consigned to silence. The evil spirit of Montanus, too, and the darkness of Manes, and the boldness, or rather "purity," of Novatus, and the evil assertion of the monarchy by Sabellius, had yielded and withdrawn, the one having been consigned to an opposing faction, and the others having been utterly despised.

^A Part of it was set aside, and the rest was utterly despised and discarded because of its own weakness. Nor did anything else cause trouble to the Church. For persecutions render the Church herself more illustrious and more brilliant through the sufferings. But not much time passed before another storm was raised against the Church—that is to say, that whirlwind of injustice, that complement of impiety, that legion of spirits, that tongue hostile to Christ, that mind which spoke iniquity into the height, that slicer of the Godhead—whose undertaking was indeed terrible, but even more terrible was his death, worthy of the betrayal of Judas, which he dared to perpetrate against the Author of our salvation: Arius, I mean, he who was aptly named after his madness. This man, having taken his beginning from the city of the Alexandrians, and having there conceived his pestilential dogma, ^B then, like some wild flame, having run over a large part of the inhabited world from a small spark, was finally suppressed and extinguished by our Fathers, by that pious company which at that time gathered at Nicaea and established the theology within defined limits and terms.

Θ. Once again an evil reign, and once again evil revives, and just like wounds that are festering and badly covered over, it is opened and breaks forth. And grievous wolves, seizing us from here and there, tear apart the Church. Priests are armed against priests, and the populace is carried away against the populace with a raging impetus; the emperor himself gives authority to impiety, and institutes laws against the orthodox doctrine; and so too those who are to be counted in the number of neither men nor women, whose power was great with him. Who indeed could lament the evils of that time according to their worth? The exiles, the proscriptions of goods, the marks of infamy, the infinite multitude of people, and even entire cities which held their assemblies in desert places, and were hard-pressed by miseries under the open sky, and were afflicted by rains and cold, and were even compelled to move their feet from there? For not even the solitude protected them from the fear of danger. ^C Who, that I may bring forward even graver things, could speak of the tortures, the deaths, the triumphs held over bishops, monks, men, women, the young, and the elderly? For what shall I say of those nobles who would at one moment devise new torments, and at another add some measure of bitterness to those which had already been devised, and showed themselves to be ministers of impiety, to whom this one thing was usually enough for glory and the splendor of their name: that they had surpassed the will of the emperor with their own cruelty?

Ι. Now indeed the brilliant persecution had an end, and

Persia rightly judged our cause, having suppressed and extinguished that impious and detestable man, and having exacted the penalty of much blood for one man’s blood. But now a shameful and base persecution arises ^A which, under the pretext of defending the Christian faith, commits acts of impiety and attacks the true Christians; and it is more grievous than the former one, in that the former struggle was more manifest and more brilliant, whereas now even the suffering is inglorious, at least in the judgment of those who are not just judges of such trials. Do you wish that I should draw tears from this audience—and perhaps even from him who is most stout-hearted and superior to suffering—by recounting one of the events that occurred at that time? I have many witnesses to this account, for the tragedy of this suffering reached many, and if I am not mistaken, the posterity of all ages shall receive the history of that time.

A ship, carrying one presbyter—and that one not for any crime, but in danger for the sake of the faith—is committed to the sea, not to save the passenger, but to destroy him. And the cargo is willing, for he is a man of piety. And fire is added as a companion to the cargo, and the persecutor delights in the novelty ^B of this punishment. Alas for the spectacle! Alas for the drama! The ship is on the high seas; the theater is on the shore, where some rejoice, while others lament. How could I express such a great event in a few words and place it before your eyes? The fire is kindled, the ship is consumed along with its burden, fire is mingled with water, and contrary things unite for the punishment of a pious man, and two elements divide one body, and in a new and unheard-of manner a torch is raised over the sea. To this, perhaps, some person approached, thinking it gentle and kind; but having approached, he found a pitiable and unbelievable sight: a voyage without a helmsman, a shipwreck without a storm; and the presbyter is ashes, or rather, not even ashes, scattered as he was in the waters. And the dignity of the priesthood was not worth enough to gain him at least a more honorable death, or if not death, certainly burial, which is owed even to impious and sacrilegious men. Such was the impious man’s maritime expedition; this was the end of the pious man. And never did holy fire descend from heaven, nor did it take vengeance upon the one who ^C flourished such a torch against those sailing!

XI. But why do I collect outside examples? It is time to come to your own conflict, and to those struggles tolerated by you for the sake of piety, which you have added to your former virtues like a brilliant seal. The evil of this heresy was flourishing in your city, from which

^A it also had its origin. But after the Triad took to itself that most holy eye of the world, that high priest of priests, that leader and teacher of your confession through the struggles he undertook for the defense of the orthodox faith, that sublime voice, that pillar of the faith, that second lamp and forerunner of Christ—if it is right to say so—having fallen asleep in a good old age and full of the days of those who live according to God, after calumnies, after contests, after that hand celebrated by every mouth, after the "living dead" ^B—The Trinity, which he had worshipped throughout his whole life and for which he had exposed himself to dangers, translated him to itself (I have no doubt that you recognize Athanasius from these words)—then a second plague and scourge of Egypt, I mean that traitor of the truth, that shepherd of wolves, that thief climbing over the sheepfold, that second Arius, that turbid and bitter overthrow, that river more abundant than an ungodly fountain, introduced himself into the Church. It grieves me indeed to recount those abominations which were then committed, and the nefarious slaughters with which that wild beast invaded the most holy throne, and the preludes of his pestiferous entry; yet from many things I lament a few, which you also lament with me, and have already lamented before, using the words of the divine David: "O God, the nations have come into your inheritance; they have defiled your holy temple," and what follows: "They set the dead bodies of your servants as food for the birds, and the flesh of your holy ones for the wild beasts of the earth." ^C But I will also add from him those things from another lamentation and from a different psalm: "How many things the enemy has wrought wickedly in your sanctuary, and they that hate you have boasted in the midst of your solemnity." For how did they not boast? And how did they not defile your holy temple with manifold calamities and all kinds of evils?

XII. A man impious and lawless discharged the duty of leader, not even bearing the name of Christian (for this is the most unworthy thing of all the abuse), but rushing from the idols to the temple of God, from impure bloods to things more abominable and detestable, and perhaps performing this abuse against us as a kind of sacrifice, offering it to the demons. ^D A force burning with rage marched into battle, a strange and savage army against men unarmed and unskilled in war. The priest, the successor of the holy man, who had been anointed by the law and order of the Spirit, and honored with gray hair and prudence, was being thrust out; and there reigned Tabeel, the heir...

^A of strange things. Against holy things, weapons; against things which it was a sin to plunder, impure hands; against the psalms, the clangor of trumpets. Consider for me the things that followed these: men falling in the holy places; women trampled underfoot, some of them even with the burden of nature, premature births—or, to speak more appositely, not births!; virgins dragged off in a wretched manner, tormented in a way yet more foul—I am ashamed even to speak of the manner, both for women and for men, and to lay bare in speech the hidden things of shame, for which, even when they were laid bare, I am ashamed—some casting themselves into the wells inside the temple, others throwing themselves headlong from a higher spot because of the indignity of the things they were witnessing, others, finally, collapsing in heaps upon those who were already lying there. Add slaughters to slaughters, falls to falls; holy things trampled by profane feet, altars insulted by obscene gestures and ^B lewd songs, and, as I hear—what will this bold tongue utter?—even dances and leaps upon them. Add tongues speaking blasphemy from the sacred thrones, mysteries mocked, psalmodies compressed by silence, groans raised in their place, streams of blood, fountains of tears, priests led away, monks torn to pieces—in short, the very image of that incursion by which the Assyrians once ravaged holy Jerusalem; an image which neither speech can worthily represent nor ear can receive, but which requires solely a mind and voice like Jeremiah’s to lament it as it deserves. For he, too, seeks fountains of tears, and from the walls calls forth lamentations over such sufferings, and lays mourning upon the ways of Zion, which no longer lead those celebrating festivals.

XIII.

^A—you have finally, caught up in the madness of impious power (o noble calamity! o your sacred wounds!), been torn with scourges on your fair and comely body; yet you were as one who looks on while another suffers. And although your visible part was bent, you were not cast down in your unseen part; rather, you inscribed your fortitude before the eyes of all as if upon a pillar, and even while silent (for your tongue could no longer perform its office), you offered yourself as a teacher of constancy.

XIV. What next? You are banished from your fatherland—you, who perceive neither any land as your own nor any as foreign, in my opinion, so that others might be educated in piety through you. The Oasis—that inhumane solitude, I say, yet now a holy seat on account of you—is decreed as your place of exile. Come then, since you have distributed the blessings of your return, see that you also share with us the blessings of your exile. Convert your return into a theater for us. Whom did you teach to philosophize there? From whom did you purge impious opinions? Whom did you lead to piety? I think I see that school there, the ceremony surrounding you, and the great crowd of people. I would like you to tell me this also: were there any present to bring some solace to the remains of your body? Or were you also practicing poverty? Did you have any associates in your contest? Or did you endure the lack of this also with an equable mind? Were you held by a longing for your sisters, your associates in both chastity and fortitude? Or, on the contrary, were you of too sublime a mind to require their company and fellowship? Did the solitude of your mother, worn by age, soften you? Or did you rather possess a firm and confident spirit, as one who had left them piety as the greatest protection of life? ^C But since you have returned to us as is right, and He who honors those who honor Him—and who provokes those who provoke Him, and who performs the will of those who fear Him, and who breathes resurrection into the dead; He who resurrected Lazarus after four days, and you after four years, beyond all hope, and who, according to the vision of Ezechiel, that most ^D admirable and exalted of all the prophets, connects bone with bone and joint with joint—has restored you, the longed-for one, to us who long for you: act so that you may persevere in the same studies of life and the same freedom of speech, lest otherwise you appear to have been broken and weakened by your calamities, and to have betrayed philosophy through cowardice.

^A XV. Confute the superstition of the Gentiles and the impiety of those who worship many gods, as before, both the old and the new gods, and their obscene fables, and their more obscene sacrifices, of those who purge mud with mud, as I have heard one of them say—I mean those who purge their own bodies with the bodies of brute animals—and their venerated images, and their indecent frauds. If these define the Godhead, then, O wretched and lost men! But if they are only designating it, O heap of misery! And if they are merely pointing to it, O singular folly! Let them teach us, what is the rationale and what is the mystery of the shame surrounding these things? For even the mere appearances of honorable things ought not to contain anything shameful. But if they assert that there is something else besides these, let them prove what this is, and from what writings or theologians they have drawn it.

Break also the onsets of the heresies that are now insurgent, and do so all the more keenly because you have already been practiced in tribulations. For a philosophical mind becomes more noble from what it has suffered, and, like white-hot iron in cold water, it is hardened by dangers. ^B Indeed, prescribe the doctrine of our piety, instructing us so that we may acknowledge one unbegotten God, that is, the Father; and one begotten Lord, the Son, who is indeed called God when he is spoken of by himself, but Lord when he is named with the Father—the former for the sake of his nature, the latter for the sake of the unique monarchy of the Godhead. And one Holy Spirit, proceeding or issuing from the Father, who is also God himself to those who mentally conceive the things that are near; though he is opposed by the impious, he is conceived of by those who rise above them, and is even preached by those who are more spiritual. Prescribe also this: that we do not attribute a beginning to the Father, lest we introduce something prior to the First, from which it would be necessary for even that which is first to perish; nor may we assert that the Son or the Holy Spirit are without beginning, lest we strip the Father of that which is his own. For they are not without beginning, and yet in a way they are—which is certainly a paradox. They are not without beginning regarding the Cause, for they are from God, even if not after him, just as light is from the sun; but they are without beginning in time. For they are not subject to time, lest that which flows be prior to that which stands, and that which is devoid of substance prior to substances. ^C XVI. Neither let us establish three principles, lest we should have something of the Greek, or the ^D Father’s [portion]—

or rather, lest we should fall into a Gentile multitude of gods: nor, on the other hand, one [principle] that is Judaic, ^A narrow, envious, and feeble—either by absorbing the Deity into itself, as it pleased those who indeed produce the Son from the Father, but then dissolve Him again into the Father; or by casting down the natures and alienating them from the Deity, as seems good to the wise of this time, just as if the Deity itself feared lest they might rise up against It, or possessed no power above created things. Nor, again, let us call the Son unbegotten, for one is the Father Who is unbegotten; nor the Spirit the Son, for one is the Only-Begotten; in order that they may have this as their divine [mark]: the singleness—the one of Sonship, the other of procession, and not of Sonship. Truly a Father is the Father, and far more truly than those who bear that name among us, because He is Father in a proper and singular manner, and not as bodies are; and alone, for it is not by union; and of the Only one, for He is the Only-Begotten; and alone, for the Son did not exist before the Father; and whole as Father, and of a whole, for what is ours is obscure; and from the beginning, for He is not latter. Truly a Son is the Son, because He is alone, and of the Only one, and alone, and only; for He is not also the Father, and ^B whole as Son, and of a whole, and from the beginning, never having had a beginning of being Son; for the Deity is not from change of mind, nor is the deification from progress, so that it might ever be lacking, in the one, of being Father, and in the other, of being Son. Truly Holy is the Holy Spirit; for there is no other such, nor in such a way, nor does the sanctification come by addition, but is holiness itself; nor is it more or less, nor did it begin in time, nor will it cease. For it is common to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit that they are not created, and the Deity. But to the Son and the Holy Spirit [it is common] that they are from the Father. But the property of the Father is this, that He is unbegotten; of the Son, that He is begotten; of the Spirit, that He is the emission. But if you seek the manner, ^C what will you leave to those who alone know one another, and are known by one another—as the Scripture testifies—or to us who will be enlightened by them hereafter?

XVII. Become something of what has been said, or at least such, and then you will know as much as they mutually know one another. But now, teach us to know only this much: the Trinity in Unity, and the Unity in Trinity, to be worshipped, having a partition and a union that is truly admirable. Do not fear the passions, while you confess the generation. For the Divine is passionless, even if It has generated. I am your surety for this, that It has generated in a divine, and not in a human manner. For not even His being is human. ^D Do you, however, fear time and creation. For—

if He has come into being, do not advocate for God in vain, and ^A take away God, making Him a fellow-servant—He who also frees you from servitude, if you sincerely confess His dominion. Do not fear the procession; for it is not necessary for God to either not produce, or to produce in a similar manner, He who is rich in all things. But fear alienation, and the punishment that awaits those who do not confess the Holy Spirit to be God, but who insult Him.

XVIII. ^B Beware lest you wrongly honor the monarchy, by contracting or circumcising the Godhead; and let not the charge of tritheism bring you shame, so long as another is also in danger of ditheism on the same account. For either you shall dissolve the charge with him, or you shall be questioned with him; or perhaps he will suffer shipwreck regarding both his reasonings and his Deity, while for you the Deity remains safe. And if the argument has grown weak, it is better to labor in one's reasonings while following the guidance of the Spirit, than to easily commit impiety while pursuing a shallow ease. Spurn for me those objections, and counter-arguments, and this "new" piety, and this petty, meager wisdom; and spurn them more than the webs of spiders, which hold flies, but are torn by wasps—I do not say by fingers, or by any other of the heavier bodies. Teach us to fear only one thing, namely, the dissolution of the faith through sophistry. It is not terrible to be defeated in argument, for argument is not everyone's strength; but it is terrible to be deprived of the Godhead, for that is the hope of all. As to these things, I know that you yourself will philosophize ^C more readily and perfectly; your wounds guarantee this to me, and your body that has labored much for piety; and we also will philosophize with you, as far as strength allows.

XIX. But when you have departed on your excellent pilgrimage, remember for me the Trinity dwelling in tabernacles—if indeed God dwells at all in things made by hands—and this small harvest of ours, not grown from small seeds of piety, but still small and meager, and which is gathered little by little. For we have become ^D like those gathering stubble in the harvest, if I may speak the Prophet’s words at the opportune time, and like the gleanings in the vintage, when

ORATION XXVI. ON HIMSELF.

^A ... that there be no grapes. You see how great this collection is; and for this reason, strive to make the threshing floor more abundant for us, and the winepress more full. Tell also of our calling, and our incredible journey, which we undertook not to enjoy luxury and delights, but so that we might be companions in misfortune; that having shared in the hardships and the bitterness, we might also one day come to share in the glory. You have this people, favorable in their prayers, this companion of our journey; this flock, I say, narrow indeed in number, but not at all narrow in piety: whose narrowness I revere more than the amplitude and breadth of others. ^B These things says the Holy Spirit: with this you shall pass through fire, and quiet the rage of wild beasts, and render rulers mild and gentle. Thus depart, thus set out, and return to us again, extraordinarily rich, a second time crowned with laurels, and hereafter singing with us the song of victory, now and in the time to come in Christ Jesus, our Lord, to whom is the glory for ever. Amen.

ADMONITION ON ORATION XXVI.

I. The designs of Maximus, whom we saw publicly praised by Gregory in the preceding oration, did not remain hidden for long. Soon the fire erupted from the ashes, and "that Egyptian specter," as Gregory calls him, too quickly produced the venomous "offspring of an asp." For, burning with envy and ambition, he was led to such impiety and audacity that he sought to transfer to himself the dignity of the Constantinopolitan see, once the legitimate pastor had been driven from the throne. Therefore, he first chose as his partner in crime one of the clergy of Gregory, who was equally a participant in the household, table, and intimate familiarity of the Theologian. Both ungrateful and factious men summoned from Egypt—or rather, bought with money—men who were seditious and ready for any crime. By their service, and with the addition of bishops sent by Peter of Alexandria himself, who might secretly consecrate Maximus, they invaded the church by night. These horrible things, though carried out until light, were not yet finished when they came to the notice of the clergy. As soon as these matters were publicized, the whole city roared with indignation. Magistrates, citizens, foreigners, and even the heretics themselves flocked to the church. Moved by unanimous indignation, they cast out the consecrated and the consecrators with the greatest shame and dishonor; nor did they become any wiser after such disgrace. For, persisting in their most wicked purpose, they entered the house of a certain flute-player and performed their unspeakable work.

II. Meanwhile, Gregory was suffering from a disease, not in the suburbs, as Billius and Baronius supposed, but in Constantinople, as is gathered from his *Poem on His Own Life*. When he heard the series of so many and such great crimes, suddenly struck with deep mental anguish, he considered flight; and he entered the sacred temple of Anastasia, as if to bid a final farewell to the entire Christian congregation. But moved by the constant prayers and tears of the whole flock, he finally promised that he would not leave. However, to restore his weakened mental and physical strength, he withdrew for a short time to a nearby villa, from where, not long after, he returned and delivered this oration. Baronius wrongly calls this an "Invective against Maximus." The learned man also conjectures that this is the very "book of vituperations" which Jerome mentions. But both the inscription itself and the purpose of the orator argue against this opinion. For this oration cannot be that book, in which Maximus is not even mentioned. We do not deny, however, that in several places here Maximius and his followers are incidentally and covertly indicated and lashed by Gregory; but it does not follow from this that this is the *Invective against Maximus*. And certainly, if the book of which Jerome speaks differs from those things which Gregory wrote against Maximus in his *Poem on His Own Life*, it is permissible to affirm that this [book] no longer exists, since no trace of that book survives anywhere.

III. Scholars assign this oration to approximately the middle of the year 380 at Constantinople. A wonderful love of the shepherd for his sheep displays itself from the very beginning. "I longed for you," he says (n. 1), "my sons, and I was sought for by you with an equal longing... For those whose spirit is common, their affection is also common... Wherefore I could not bear to be away from you any longer." Nor indeed did the sole motive of mutual love impel Gregory to a swift return. He still feared (n. 3) for his beloved flock, both the voracity of the "wolves" and the snares of the "thieves," and the madness of the "dogs," who had already, though with futile effort, burst in upon the shepherds and had attempted to seize, slaughter, or scatter the sheep. Then he demands from the flock a reckoning of faith and doctrine (n. 5); he demands not only "mutual" love, but also "interest"; nor only the "talent," but also the "gain of the talent"; lest perhaps anyone, with the talent buried and hidden in the earth, falsely accuse the creditor of being "hard and harsh." Hence he shows that faith without works is dead, and demands from his hearers whether they have diligently practiced good works; and having clearly discussed various duties of the Christian life, he himself also renders an account of all the things he has pondered while away. To achieve this, he places before his eyes a wide and magnificent model of the true philosopher, and the same theme which Chrysostom later treated in his oration, "No one is hurt except by himself (9)," he himself demonstrates admirably with words and examples.

ORATION XXVI

^A I. I longed for you, my sons, and I was sought for by you with an equal longing. For I have this conviction; and if it is necessary to interpose an oath on this matter, I swear, brothers, by your boast which I have in Christ Jesus our Lord. For the Holy Spirit, by whose power and inspiration we have come to you, has established this form of oath for me, so that we might prepare for the Lord a chosen and peculiar people. Consider the magnitude of the faith, I beseech you. For I convince myself, and I exert myself on your behalf. And this is nothing wonderful. For where the Spirit is common, the passion is also common; and to those for whom the suffering is equal, the belief is also equal. For he who has not felt something would not even believe another who asserts it; but he who has felt it is the more ready for agreement, an invisible witness of an invisible passion, a fitting mirror of a foreign form. ^B Therefore, I could not bear to be away from you any longer, although I otherwise bore these present circumstances with difficulty and a troubled mind; and not only those things which cities bring—namely the popular multitude, the tumults, the marketplace, the spectacles, the surfeits, the insults, those who lead and those who are led, those who fine and those who are fined, those who grieve and those who are grieved, those who weep, those who rejoice, those who marry, those who bury, those who are praised, those who are slandered, the fuel of wickedness, the dross of the world, and the rapid changes, just as in the Euripus and the winds—but also even these, now, which are more august and more precious, those around the sanctuary.

^A Since we appear to hold the position of authority over these, and are in the number of those who approach God, I fear lest we approach unworthily, and, like stubble before a fire, be unable to endure the power of the fire.

II. However, I have returned to you; and though I had departed from you against my will, I have returned not against my will, but with a thoroughly eager spirit and with spontaneous feet—the Spirit, indeed, driving me on, like some river that is forced with difficulty along the ascent, but rolls with extreme speed along the downward paths and declines. ^B And truly, for those who labor with desire, even a single day is like an entire human life. For the case of the patriarch Jacob seems to me to be ordered differently: he, who in serving Laban the Syrian for fourteen years for the sake of his two daughters, was not in the least broken by labor. "For all those days," he says, "were to him as one day, because he loved them." Perhaps this was because the object of his desire was before his eyes, or because labor is light to love, even if the delay brings with it some pain. For it is thus ordered by nature: that we desire more sluggishly those things which we can enjoy easily and freely, as one of the ancients said. I myself, at any rate, while I was present, was barely perceiving the force of this affection; but when I was separated from you, I began to recognize desire—that sweet tyrant—and this is nothing new. ^C For if even a cowherd is so much grieved over one calf that has wandered from the herd, and a shepherd over one sheep missing from the ten, and a bird over the nest that it left for a short time, that the former, having taken up their pipes and ascended to some lookout, fill [the pipes] with sighs and call back, as if they were rational, those that have wandered off—and if they obey, they rejoice more than over all the others combined, for which they had no such concern—while the latter flies to the nest with a chirping sound, and falls upon its chicks, and cherishes them with its wings; how great, then, must be the affection of a good shepherd for his rational sheep, and especially for those for whose safety he has risked some danger, since he even adds this to the intensity of his love? ^D

III. For my part, I fear the heavy wolves, lest, observing our darkness, they should tear apart the flock with their rapacious and violent doctrines. For untimely...

^A seasons are what they watch for, ^B lacking as they do the strength to act openly. I fear the thieves and robbers, lest, leaping over the sheepfold, they should either shamelessly despoil it, or steal by deceit, so as to sacrifice, and kill, and destroy, snatching away their plunder and devouring souls, as one of the prophets has said. I fear the window, lest someone, finding it unbarred, as was the case with some of our people yesterday or the day before, should enter then like one of us, only to plot against us like a stranger. For many and various are the stratagems of the one who works such things; and no architect of any varied art is as skilled a craftsman of wickedness as our adversary. Now, too, I am struck with fear by the dogs, who burst by force into the class of shepherds; and what is very absurd, they have contributed nothing at all to the administration of the pastoral office, except that they have shaven off the hair which they had shamefully taken pains to adorn and nourish; they have neither remained in the rank of dogs, nor have they become shepherds, except to tear, and scatter, and break down the labor of others. Since it is always easier to weaken and destroy than to preserve; and man is born for labor, as Job says, and a ship is built, and a house is constructed, but to kill, or to overthrow, or to set on fire, anyone can easily do. And therefore, let not those who have incited the dogs against the flock boast too insolently even now, for they cannot produce a single little sheep that they themselves have brought or preserved. For they have not learned to do good, while they have zealously cultivated wickedness. But if they disturb the flock, this is the same as a small storm can do, or a slight disease, or a beast suddenly rushing in. Let them, therefore, who boast in their own shame, stand; and having ceased from their wickedness, if they are able, let them worship, and fall down, and weep before the Lord who made them, and be joined to the flock, all those who are not entirely incurable. ^C IV. I am this timid and circumspect pastor, and for this reason, I am accused of caution as if it were cowardice. For I am not a pastor of the number of those who eat the milk, and clothe themselves with the wool, and slaughter the fat, and wear out the sheep with labor, or sell them, and say: Blessed be the Lord, for we have become rich; ^D who feed themselves, and not the sheep, if you remember the voices of the prophets by which they inveigh against evil shepherds; but I am of those rather who can say with Paul: Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is scandal

scandalized, and I burn not, and have concern? ^A For I do not seek what is yours, but you. And: I became scorched by the heat of the day, and by the frost of the night oppressed, as the voice of the shepherd-patriarch says, whose are those marked sheep, and those which learned to conceive—having meditated upon it—at the troughs thereof. Thus, then, and for these reasons did I come to you, and thus do they stand. But since I have arrived, let us give an account to one another of what we have accomplished in the interval. For it is good to think that we are required to render an account not only of word and action, but of every time, and of its very moment, instantaneous and most minute. Do you, therefore, report to me your labor, and I, in turn, will place in the midst that which I, in quietness communing with myself, have philosophized.

^B V. What contemplation of sublime things, either received from me have you kept, or from yourselves have you brought forth, whether concerning theology or concerning the other doctrines which I have set before you many times and in many ways? For I seek not only the loan, but also the interest; not the talent only, but also the gain of the talent; lest someone, having hidden and buried that which was entrusted to him, should furthermore falsely blame the lender as hard and harsh, and covetous of others' goods. And what praiseworthy action have you brought forth—either so secretly that not even your left hand knows it, or even openly, so that your light may shine before men, ^C that from the fruit the tree may be shown, and the teacher may be known through his disciples, and someone of those who observe our ways (and they are many, some out of goodwill, others also out of curiosity) may say that God is truly in you, not only being preached soundly, but also being worshipped and adored? For just as action without faith is not acceptable (since many practice virtue for the sake of glory, or being so disposed by nature), so faith without works is dead. And let no one deceive you with empty words of those who readily concede all things to all men, for the sake of one thing—that they may embrace impious dogmas and pay a base wage ^D for a base matter. Show, therefore, your faith by your works, the fruitfulness of your land, lest we have sown in vain, or if there be among you a handful, from which flour might be made, and one worthy to be brought into the granary, so that we may cultivate you more readily for the future. Who brings forth the hundredfold fruit? Who the sixtyfold? Who finally the thirtyfold? Or who, conversely, having advanced from the thirty to the sixty (for we have this order also in the Gospels), has ended in the hundred; that advancing, as Isaac, he may become great, going from strength to strength, and singing the songs of the Steps, and placing ascents in his heart?

^A

VI. For I seek fruit that flows unto your account. The profit is yours, not mine: though it is mine too, because it is yours, since the benefit reflects back from you to us, just as we see happens in the reflection of solar rays. Have you fed the poor? Have you shown hospitality? Have you washed the saints' feet? Even if you were indulging the belly which is destroyed, have you also done this, so as to have your delights set in the divine commandments? For indeed, no delights are better than these, nor more lasting or stable for those who wish to spend their life in delights. Have you, according to your means, refreshed some of those who serve the altar and are beautifully destitute (for allow me to say this), so that, with less distracted minds, they might more [devotedly] attend to the altar, and having become partakers of your goods, they might in turn confer their own upon you? It is surely shameful that we should have to ask for these things and you should not bestow them. Nor for this reason did I have this admonition, that it might be done unto me (for it is better for me to die than that my boasting should be made void, and the reward of the Gospel I have preached should perish for me, if I should reap the harvest of my labors here. For the preaching of the Gospel is of necessity; but munificence and praise lie in this, that we perform this office gratuitously); but [it is] that you might learn to do well by Christ, by doing so also to one of the little ones. For because He who took upon Himself for my sake all things that I am, sin excepted, in the same way also accepts the least things of mine unto Himself—whether you provide a roof for the poor, or visit one cast into chains, or go to the sick, or finally, what is the most trivial thing, if you soothe the tongue of a man oppressed by thirst with only a cold cup of water, which the rich man in the flame of torment begged for from the poor Lazarus, and for the pleasures and delights of this life, and for the contempt of the hungry and ulcerous Lazarus, he brought back this reward, that he begged Lazarus there and did not obtain his help. ^B

VII. These, then, are the things we require of you; and I know that it is not in the least a cause of shame to you that we ask for an account of your life, nor will it be, when you have to render it on that final day, to which all our affairs are gathered, according to the Jerusalemite [custom], to whom those who were appointed to sing hymns, as they ascended, used to sing these very songs. Now these songs treat of the ascent and return of the Jews from Babylon to Jerusalem. Whence, in a mystical sense, those who advance in virtue are said to sing the songs of the Steps. ^{C D}

the statement: "And I come to gather your counsels and your deeds, and, Lo, a man, and his work is with him." And as for our own affairs, what we bring to you from the desert—for Elias also willingly philosophized on Carmel, and John in the desert, and Jesus Himself was wont to assign His works to the crowds, but His prayers to the retreat and the deserts—what does He determine by this? As I think, that it is necessary to be quiet at times, so as to commune with God without disturbance, and to lead the mind back a little from those things that lead us astray. For He Himself had no need of retreat (for He, being God and filling all things, had nowhere to withdraw to), but [it was] that we might learn both the time for action and for higher occupation. What, then, is the fruit of my retreat? For I desire, like a good merchant who seeks profit from every source, to offer you some saleable goods from this [experience] as well.

^B VIII. I was walking thus by myself, with the day already drawing to its close. The walk was along the shore; for I am accustomed to dissolving and relaxing my labors with such diversions, since a bowstring that is always kept taut cannot endure but needs to be loosened a little, if it is to be tightened again and not become useless to the archer, nor unhelpful at the moment of need. I was walking, therefore, and while my feet carried me forward, ^C my gaze was on the sea. But it was not a pleasant sight, although it is otherwise most pleasant when it is purple with calm and plays softly and gently upon the shores. But what then? (For I gladly use the words of Scripture): with a great wind blowing, it was stirred up and roared; and as for the waves, as is wont to happen in such movements, some, rising from afar and gradually reaching a crest, then diminishing, ended at the shore; others, falling upon the nearby rocks and being repelled, were scattered into frothy and fine spray. ^D There, pebbles and seaweed, and whelks, and the lightest of shellfish were pushed out and spat forth; and some were snatched away again as the wave receded. But the rocks, meanwhile, remained as unmoved and unshaken as if no force at all were being applied to them, save that they were beaten by the blows of the waves.

IX. From this I perceived that I had gained some benefit for philosophy, and (as I am accustomed to referring and directing all things to myself, and especially if I happen to encounter any of the things that occur)

I did not receive what was before my eyes in an offhand or negligent manner; rather, this spectacle resulted in instruction for me. For was I not saying, ^A “Is not our life and all human affairs like the sea?” (for there is much bitterness and instability even in this), and are not the temptations that beset us—and all unexpected things—like the winds? It seems to me that the most admirable David observed this too, saying, “Save me, O Lord, for the waters have entered unto my soul,” and, “Deliver me from the depths of the waters.” And again, “I have come into the depths of the sea, and a storm has overwhelmed me.” As for those being tempted, some appeared to me to be swept away and torn apart like objects most light and devoid of spirit, unable to withstand even the slightest impact of adverse circumstances; for they possess neither strength nor stability, nor the weight of a prudent and sensible mind that struggles against fortuitous events. Others, however, seemed to be like the rock—worthy of that Rock upon whom we stand and whom we worship—all those who use philosophical reasoning and, having risen above the lowliness of the many, bear all things with an unshaken and unyielding spirit. Those who are shaken by such things they either laugh at or pity (the former out of the nobility of a philosophical mind, the latter out of humanity and compassion). But they themselves judge it to be disgraceful to despise grave and harsh things when they are absent, or not even to consider them grave, and yet to succumb when they are present, ^B acting, as it were, as if these things were not fleeting but firm and stable; and to philosophize out of season, only to appear devoid of philosophy when there is need: just as if someone were to consider himself the most excellent of all athletes while never stepping down into the stadium, or a captain of distinguished repute were to boast magnificently of his skill in calm weather, only to let go of the rudders when a storm has arisen.

X. Since, then, I have once fallen into these remarks, I have proposed another image for myself, one highly appropriate to present circumstances. Perhaps you will take me for a delirious old man and a storyteller if I set this forth to you as well; I will set it forth, however, since11 Scriptures also are accustomed to use such examples for the clearer explanation of matters. There is a certain tree in myths which flourishes when it is cut and contends against the iron; and, if one must speak in a new way about a paradoxical thing, it lives by death, and by being cut it grows, and it increases by being consumed.

^A Such is the fable and the autonomy of the creature; but to me it seems clear that the philosopher is something of this sort. He flourishes in his passions, and makes the painful things the material of virtue, and prides himself on the contrary things; neither being lifted up by the right-hand weapons of justice, nor bent by the left-hand ones; but he is the same, not always remaining in the same state, but being found even more approved, as gold in the furnace. Let us examine it thus: Is he of noble birth? He will set his probity of character against the splendor of his lineage, and will bring it forward to be looked upon from the opposite side. Thus he will be famous by a double title, namely, both by the images of his ancestors and by his own virtue being inspected. Is he born of an obscure and ignoble family, as far as the statue and the clay are concerned (if, indeed, there is any great difference between clay and clay)? He will bring forward in exchange the nobility that is understood, and which each person fashions for himself toward the worse or the better; but the other, which is merely sown or written, he will disregard as worthless and counterfeit. For there is a triple kind: the one, which has its origin from above, in which we are all equally noble, since we were created according to the ^B image of God 3; the second, which comes from blood—I do not know if anyone can be called noble by reason of this, since it is bound up with corruption; and the third, which is recognized by virtue or vice, of which we partake more or less, according as I think we either preserve the image or corrupt it. The one truly wise and philosopher will love this nobility. For as to the fourth kind of lineage, I will then deem it worthy of account, namely that in documents and decrees, when I might also admire beauty ^C in colors, and show respect to a monkey that has been ordered to be a lion.

XI. Is he young? He will act manfully against the passions, and will reap this advantage from youth, that he does not suffer the things of the young, but shows the prudence of an elder in a flourishing body; and he will rejoice in the victory more than those who are crowned at Olympia; for he will win in the common theater of the whole world, and a victory that is not bought. Does he incline toward old age? But he will not grow old in his soul; he will accept his dissolution as the appointed time of necessary freedom; he will happily move toward the things that follow this life, where there is no one immature, nor any old man, but all are perfect in spiritual age. Has he reached a time of life? ^D His beauty will shine in return with beauty, that of the soul with that of the body. Has the flower of his youth passed without being harmed? He inclines toward himself, and does not even know he is being looked at. Is he ugly in his outward appearance?

^A But he is fair in what is hidden, like a blooming rose within its bud, which is not blooming to the eye, but is most fragrant. Is he fair in beauty beyond the sons of men? He does not even grant time for the exterior to be looked at, turning the spectator toward the inward man. Does he enjoy good health? He will use his health for the best; he will admonish, he will rebuke, he will speak boldly with words, he will keep watch, he will sleep on the ground, he will fast, he will mortify his flesh, he will contemplate earthly and heavenly things, and with all zeal he will practice dying. Does he suffer from illness? He will fight; and if he is overcome, he will win by having attained no longer to fight. Is he rich? He will make it his study to lessen his wealth; he will make the poor a participant in his goods, as a steward of another's property, so that the other may be helped by the reception, and he himself may be united to God, having nothing save the cross and his body. Is he poor? He will have God instead of riches, and he will mock the rich, as those who, although they increase their wealth daily, are yet always poor, because they are in need of more, and drink so that they may be inflamed with greater thirst.

XII. Is he vexed by hunger? ^B He will be fed with the birds, whose life is without sowing and ploughing; he will live with Elias at Zarephath. The cruse of oil shall not fail, and the jar of flour shall not diminish; the one will always spring forth, and the other will produce richly, so that the hospitable widow may be honored, and the one who nourishes may be nourished. Is he troubled by thirst? Fountains and rivers will supply him with drink, and indeed a drink that does not intoxicate, nor is it measured. But if all should fail due to extreme drought, perhaps a torrent’s water will quench his thirst. Will he be cold? This also happened to Paul; but for how long? There is also a covering of rock; let Job persuade you, using these words: "Because they lacked clothing, they were covered by the rock." Consider now the more perfect things. Will he be lacerated by curses? He will conquer by not answering curses with curses. Will he suffer persecution? He will endure. Will he be blasphemed? ^C He will entreat. Will he be oppressed by false accusations? He will pray. Will he be struck on the right cheek? He will offer the other also; if he had a third, he would have presented that too, that he might better teach his smiter to be long-suffering, instructing by deed what he could not by word. Will he be reproached? Christ also was. He will be honored by the communion of the passion. Even if he is called a Samaritan, even if he is accused of having a demon, he will accept everything with God. Many things will yet remain, even if he suffers many things—vinegar, gall, crown of thorns, reed scepter, purple robe, cross, nails, thieves crucified with him, ^D those passing by insulting. For one must possess God all the more, in that one is insulted more.

^A XIII. Nothing is stronger than philosophy, nothing more impregnable. All things will yield before a philosopher gives in. He is a wild ass in the desert, as Job says, loose and free, laughing at the clamor of the city, not hearing the tax-collector's complaint. He is a unicorn, an animal living by its own laws. Will he wish to serve you? Will you tie him to a manger? Will he be led under a yoke? If he is barred from all the pleasures of earth, he has wings prepared for him like an eagle; he will betake himself to the house of his master; he will fly up to God. To sum it all up: these two things cannot be overcome, God and an angel; the third is the philosopher, immaterial in matter, uncircumscribed in a body, celestial on earth, indifferent to passions, in all things easily suffering himself to be overcome, except in greatness of soul, by the very fact that he allows himself to be overcome, he overcomes those who think themselves his superiors. And since ^B our discourse has depicted for us a philosopher—from which point I began—come, let us examine our own affairs by this standard (for I also deem myself to have the Spirit of God, even if I do not deny that I am vulnerable to some of the things that I have mentioned, and can be overcome by them); so that if those who are hostile to me and wage war against me find me interior, they may at least obtain pardon for their attempt, if not for their will; but if they find me more excellent and exalted than those who have decided to harass me with war, may they either depart from their wickedness or at least devise a newer way of injustice (for we despise the present one), and not be accused of folly along with wickedness, as lawless men ^C acting in vain, and not even knowing what they are striving to do, lest otherwise they incur the mark of madness and stupidity in addition to wickedness, as if they knew how to inflict injury, while they are applying themselves to it with the greatest zeal.

XIV. For what, I beseech you, can they actually harm me, once they have tried everything? Let us look at all the things by which a man can be injured by men. Will they call me unlearned? I know this one wisdom, which consists in the fear of God (For it is written: "The beginning of wisdom is the fear of the Lord; and the end of the discourse, hear the whole; fear God" [Prov. 1:7; Eccle. 12:13]. These are the words of that wisest Solomon. Let them therefore prove me devoid of fear, and they shall have conquered). ^D As for other wisdom and learning, I have partly passed them by, and partly I hope to take them up—and even, relying on the help of the Holy Spirit, I have hope. Will they throw poverty in my teeth, my veritable riches? For I would that I might be set free even from these rags, so that I might run naked and escape the thorns of life; would that I might also lay aside the heavy…

^A garment as quickly as possible, that I might receive a lighter one. Will they call me an exile? How humbly do these men, truly insulting and hostile to strangers, think of us! For is my country restricted, O men, to one to whom the whole earth, and yet no land, is a fatherland? But are you not a guest and a sojourner? I do not commend your dwelling-place, if you are so minded, lest you fall away from the true fatherland, to which all the conversation of this life must be referred. Will you not reproach me with my old age and the infirmity of my health as a disgrace? But that you may understand something of my mysteries, this is not entirely the work of this corporeal mass and nature; my reason has also consumed something—for I am pleased to boast a little. Neither do you provide a pleasant spectacle for me, being so vigorous and corpulent. And I would that some grayness and pallor had also been poured upon you, that you might at least gather some belief and reputation for prudence and philosophy.

XV. What besides? Will they abolish the episcopate and cast me from the thrones? And from which ones, pray, did I ever ascend with a ready and cheerful mind, either now or before? Or am I accustomed to proclaim those who ascend as blessed? ^B Do you make them agreeable and pleasant to me, by ascending so unworthily? What? Did not even those things which happened recently declare my mind to you? Or were those things also a sort of delight and a joke, and a testing of your love and desire for me? Crafty men are easily led to suspect and to speak of others the vices that belong to themselves. But what of that oppression? What of those imprecations which we have publicly composed against ourselves? What of those tears, which moved even you to mercy, although otherwise, on account of the struggle, we were almost hated? Will they take away from us the dignity of the primary seat? Who, gifted with any sense, has ever admired this? But now, as it seems to me, he is most prudent, whoever flees it. For because of this, all our affairs are tossed and shaken; because of this, the ends of the earth are ablaze with suspicion and war, and that, too, with an obscure and ignoble one; because of this, there is a danger that we who were created by God might be subjected to men, and lose that great and new name. ^C Would that there were not even any primacy of a seat, nor any preference of place, and tyrannical prerogative! That we might be known by virtue alone. But now this right, and left, and middle side, and the higher and lower rank, and to walk in front, and to walk together, have produced many collisions for us in vain, and have pushed many into the pit, and led them away to the region of the goats; not only of the common people, but also of the shepherds, who, though they were masters of Israel, were ignorant of these things.

XVI. What then? Will they keep me from the altars? But I know another altar, of which the things we now see with our eyes are the figures: upon which no chisel, nor hand, nor iron, nor any instrument of ^D craftsmen has ascended or been heard of, or any other thing.

^A Migne's own rendering of the text, but the whole work is of the mind, and by it we are raised up through contemplation. At this altar I shall stand, and upon it I shall offer acceptable things: a sacrifice and an oblation and whole burnt-offerings, better than those now offered, as much as the truth is better than the shadow. Concerning which it seems to me that the great David also philosophizes, saying: *And I will go in unto the altar of God, of Him who gladdens my spiritual youth* (Ps. XLII, 4). From this altar, no one who wishes to do so shall drive me away. Will they drive me out of the city? But not also from the one which is laid up in heaven. If those who hate us could accomplish this, they would indeed be waging war on us; but as long as they cannot do this, they are merely pelting me with drops of water, or striking me with the winds, or playing with dreams; for this is how I interpret their war. Will they take away my money? Whose? If it is my own, ^B let them also at the same time cut off the wings, which I have not put on. But if it is the money of the Church, this is the very thing for which the whole war is being waged. It is for this money that the thief, in his jealousy for the purse, betrays God for thirty pieces of silver—the most terrible thing of all. For it is for that sum that a man is worthy, not he who is being betrayed, but he who is betraying.

[XVII.] Will they exclude me from a house? Will they cut off my luxuries? Will they alienate my friends? Indeed, as you see, we have burdened quite a few [people], even though they were the ones who invited us (for we shall not be ungrateful). But if we have burdened them, it was rather by sparing them than by receiving from them. And if you seek the cause of this, a certain pious and God-loving house gave us rest, just like the house of the Shunammite [gave rest] ^C to Elisha,—a house related to me in body, related in spirit, and in every way generous; among whom this people also was established, yet stealthily clutching at the persecuted piety, not without fear nor without danger. May the Lord repay him on the day of retribution! But if we sought luxury, may those who hate us enjoy luxury at our expense; for I shall not pray for any other greater thing upon myself. As for my friends—some, I know well, will flee from us, even if not harmed (for they show themselves to be companions in suffering, who are afflicted by the same injustice); but the arrogance and contempt of others toward us, we have already, by long use, learned to bear with a calm mind. For of my friends and neighbors, ^D some have even openly drawn near and stood against me; while others, in the most humane fashion, have stood afar off, and in this night all have been offended. Peter even nearly denied me; and perhaps he does not even weep bitterly, so as to heal his sin.

^A XVIII. I alone am bold, it seems, and full of temerity; alone I am of good hope in fearful things; alone I am steadfast, both set forth publicly and despised in private, and known to the East and West by the wars which are waged against me. O, the madness! If a camp should be set in array against me, my heart shall not fear; if war should rise up against me, in this I have hope. I am so far from considering any of the present things bitter or fearful, that, leaving myself aside, I lament those who have caused me trouble. O members of Christ once, members dear to me, although now corrupt, members of this flock which you betrayed while it was yet small, and even before you were gathered together. How have you been torn asunder, and how have you torn others, like tender calves let loose from their bonds? How have you raised altar against altar? How have you suddenly become a desolation and a waste? How have you yourselves been put to death by this division, and branded us with sorrow? How have you abused the simplicity of the shepherds for the dissolution and destruction of the flock? For I will not blame them for their inexperience, but I will accuse your wickedness. O Israel, who shall help thy corruption? What medicine can I find that has the power to form a scar? With what bandage shall I bind the wound? How shall I join the separated parts? By what tears, with what words, with what prayers shall I heal this breach? Or perhaps in this way?

^C XIX. O holy, and adorable, and perfect Trinity, who art rightly joined to us and religiously worshipped, this is Thy work, Thine is the glory of accomplishing this matter. Oh that Thou mightest restore these men to us, who have until now been separated from us, that by this very separation they might be instructed towards concord and the desire for peace; and that Thou mightest render to us heavenly and unshakable goods in exchange for the toils and miseries of this life, and free from every dissension. But the primary and greatest thing for them is, that being illuminated by Thee more purely and more fully, we may know how Thou, being the same, art understood as Unity and found as Trinity; how the Unbegotten, and the Begotten, and the Proceeding, are one nature, three properties, One God, who art over all, and through all, and in us all; who art neither ^D placed in a higher nor lower rank, nor dost Thou decrease, nor dost Thou admit of division; Thou who art in part now apprehended, in part sought after, and sometimes, perhaps, shalt be perceived as great as Thou art, by those who have rightly sought Thee in this world through a life of integrity and contemplation: to whom be all glory, honor, and power unto the ages. Amen.