Orations

No one demands a reward for the grace he has received; rather, he is a debtor to it. And for this reason, when we are enlightened through baptism, we owe benevolence to our benefactor. Our benevolence toward God is the gratitude we show to our fellow servants, our own salvation, and our concern for virtue. Put away, therefore, your vain opinion, you who reserve baptism for the funeral rites, knowing that faith demands its own sister, the good life, as its companion—the kind of life of which we may be deemed worthy through a good will and the help of God, to whom belongs worship now and forever. Amen.

PART IV. ORATIONS AND EPISTLES. I. ORATIONS. NOTICE REGARDING THE FOLLOWING ORATION [(a)]

Jacob Gretser, a theologian of the Society of Jesus, first published this Oration from a single Munich manuscript in his *Appendix to the Works of St. Gregory of Nyssa*, Paris, 1618, in-folio, pp. 225-234. Shortly after, it was repeated in the second Paris edition of 1638, in-folio, vol. II, pp. 225-234. Having examined both editions more carefully and having transcribed the Greek words from the copy of the Gretserian Appendix, I found the Greek oration of the holy Father to be so deformed by errors of every kind, and the Latin translation so inaccurate, that I was forced to have recourse to the manuscript. I therefore wrote to J. G. Krabinger, custodian of the Royal Library of Munich—a most celebrated man and one who has deserved exceptionally well of these studies of ours—freely and frankly requesting from him a new collation of that manuscript by a friend. Krabinger very willingly granted my requests, and on November 10, 1839, sent to me from Munich a list of the variants, which was full and accurate even in the smallest details. I have used this most faithfully here in my Annotations, ignoring only obvious orthographical errors. This Munich manuscript, which I have designated with the letters "Mon.", is the only one in which this homily is preserved; Krabinger wrote to me that no other can be found in Vienna, Venice, or Florence, and I have not found one in Paris, nor do I believe one is kept in Madrid. I have therefore had to be content with that Munich manuscript 47, a paper one, dating from the sixteenth century, in-folio, with the help of which I have been able to correct and supplement very many things. It is strange that Gretser, as it seems to Krabinger, attributed, corrected, and occasionally corrupted so many things that I myself, in my own judgment, believe he must have used some other manuscript besides the Munich one. I have corrected many things myself, with the reader being warned everywhere; whether I have done so perversely, those more learned than I will judge; the punctuation, however, is entirely my own.

(a) Ludov. de Sinner, in the preface to his edition of the following oration, which was published in the year 1838 by the Gaume brothers in 12mo.

OF OUR HOLY FATHER GREGORY, BISHOP OF NYSSA. ORATION AGAINST USURERS.

^A The life of men who are lovers of virtue and who choose to live according to [the dictates of] reason is regulated by good laws and precepts. In these, one can perceive the intention of the Lawgiver directed generally toward two ends: the one, which contains the prohibition of forbidden things; the other, which urges individuals toward the performance of good deeds. For it is not otherwise possible for a life of good citizenship and temperance to be successfully achieved, unless someone, while fleeing vice as much as he has the power to do so, pursues virtue as a son pursues a mother. Therefore, having gathered today ^B so that we might listen to the commands of God, we have heard the Prophet cutting down the miserable children of loans, that is, usury, and removing from life the use of currency for gain. Let us then receive the instruction obediently, so that we do not become that rock ^B upon which the seed, having fallen, remained dry and barren, and so that it may not be said to us one day as it was said to the unyielding Israel: By hearing you shall hear, and shall not understand, and seeing you shall see, and shall not perceive.

I beg those who are to hear me not to condemn me for audacity or folly, for having, while [speaking of] a man who is eloquent and renowned in philosophy, and exercised in every kind of speech, and successful in this matter itself, and who has left behind [the]— ^C

^A a discourse against usurers for the edification of life, I myself should descend into the same arena, having yoked together couples of oxen or asses with which I might contend against horses adorned with the crowns of victory; for small things are always seen alongside great ones; and the moon shines while the sun shines; and a ten-thousand-ton ship sailing, driven by the intensity of the winds, is followed by a small dinghy crossing the same sea; and again, when men are competing in athletic contests, boys exercise themselves in the same place. Let this, then, be the request of my intention.

But you, whatever person you may be, hate the way of the huckster, ^B since you are a human being. Love human beings, and not silver; stop the sin at this point. Utter at some time to your dearest interests the voice of John the Baptist: "Brood of vipers" (Matt. III, 7), depart from me. You are the destruction of those who keep you and accept you. You bring a little pleasure, but as time goes on, the poison scattered by you turns into bitter malice for the soul. You block the path of life; you shut the gates of the kingdom. You refresh the eyes and ears for a short time, but meanwhile, you are the cause and origin of eternal pain. Having said these things, renounce usury, and pledge yourself to love of the poor, and do not turn away him who wishes to borrow. Because of poverty he supplicates you and sits at your doors; being in need, he flees to your wealth, so that you may become a helper for his necessity. ^C But you do the opposite; you who should be an ally become an enemy; for you do not work with him so that he might be freed from the necessity pressing upon him, and pay back the loan to you, but you sow evils for the one in straits, stripping the naked individual, wounding the wounded one, piling cares upon cares, and adding sorrows to sorrow. For he who receives gold to be returned with interest, receives a pledge and earnest of poverty, bringing home destruction in the guise of a benefit. For just as one who, overcome by the entreaties of a feverish man, and one whom the most intense heat and excessive thirst are agitating, and who urgently begs for a drink, offers him neat wine under the pretext of philanthropy, gladdens the sick man for a very brief time while he drains the cup; but when a short time has passed, ^D he causes a fierce and tenfold more severe fever to...

^A produce. Thus, he who offers gold, full of poverty, to a needy man, does not ease his necessity, but rather increases his calamity. Do not, therefore, live an inhuman life under the guise of philanthropy, nor become a physician who kills, having the appearance of saving out of wealth, as the other does by his craft; but by your choice, you are using the person who has entrusted himself to you for his destruction.

Idle and greedy is the life of the usurer. He knows not the labor of agriculture, nor the thought of commerce; but he sits in one place, feeding wild beasts in his own home. He wishes everything to grow for him without sowing or ploughing; his plough is the pen; his field, the paper; his seed, the ink; his rain, time, which unknown to him increases and nurtures the fruit of his money. His sickle is the demand for payment; his threshing floor, the house in which he winnows the fortunes of the wretched. He looks upon the belongings of all as his own. He prays for calamities for people, so that they may be forced to come to him. He hates those who are self-sufficient, and counts those who have not borrowed ^B as his enemies. He haunts the courts, so that he may find someone pressed by creditors, and he follows the tax collectors as vultures follow camps and armies. He carries around his purse and shows the bait of the hunt to those who are choking, so that, gaping at it because of their need, they may swallow with the usury the hook as well.

He counts his profit every day and is never filled with desire. He is vexed at the gold laid up in his house, because it lies idle and unproductive. He imitates the farmers who always take seed from their heaps. He does not leave the wretched gold untouched, but passes it from hand to hand. You see, then, that one who is wealthy and has much gold often might not have even one coin in his house, but has his hopes in papers, his substance in bonds, having nothing and possessing everything; he uses his life in a manner contrary to the apostolic letter, giving everything ^C to those who ask, not by a philanthropic impulse, but by a greedy disposition. For he chooses temporary poverty, so that, like a hardworking servant, the gold, having labored, may return to him with interest. You see how the hope of future gain empties the house and makes the one who otherwise has much gold a man who possesses nothing temporarily. And what is the cause of this? It is the writing on the paper, the agreement

or promise of one in distress. "I will repay with interest," he says; "I will restore the principal with profit." Then I urge and admonish him not to break his word. And the debtor, though destitute, finds trust because of a promissory note. But God, who is rich and makes promises, is not even heard, despite a clear and resounding voice. "Give, and I will repay," He cries out in the Gospels, in a public document known to the whole world, which four evangelists wrote in place of a single notary, with all Christians from the time of the salvation of the world as their witnesses. You have Paradise as a pledge—a pledge certainly worthy, upon which you may confidently rely. And if you seek something here as well, the whole world is the property of this honest debtor. Examine clearly the wealth of the One who seeks this kindness from you, and you will find His riches. For every gold mine is the property of this debtor. Every metal of silver and copper and the rest of the materials ^B are subject to His dominion and rule. Look up at the vast heaven; observe the infinite sea; consider the breadth of the earth; count the creatures nourished upon it; all are slaves and possessions of Him whose poverty you despise. Be moderate and fair, O man. Do not insult God, nor deem Him of lower or less honorable status than money-changers, to whom you yield your trust without doubt if they but give a surety. Give to an immortal surety. Believe in a promissory note that is invisible, yet of such a kind that it cannot be lost. Do not demand interest, but offer kindness without hope of gain, and you will see God repaying the grace with an addition.

^C But if this discourse seems strange and contrary to your expectations, I have testimony at hand, by which it is clear that God returns the favor in many different ways to those who piously make expenditures and perform acts of kindness. For when Peter asked and said: "Behold, we have left everything and followed you; what then shall be for us?" "Amen, I say to you," He says, "everyone who has left houses, or brothers, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or fields, shall receive an hundredfold, and will inherit eternal life." ^D Do you see the generosity? Do you see the goodness? The most shameless money-lender labors to double the principal, but God, of His own accord, gives an hundredfold to the one who does not oppress his brother. Obey, therefore, God who counsels you, and you shall gather interest that is free from sin. Why do you wear yourself out with sinful cares,

numbering the days, calculating the months, dreaming of the principal sum, imagining additions, fearing the deadline, lest it arrive fruitless like a summer struck by hail. The lender ^A scrutinizes the borrower’s actions—his travels, his movements, his changes of residence, his business dealings—and if some sad rumor arrives, that so-and-so has fallen among robbers, or that through some circumstance his prosperity has been changed into poverty, he sits with hands clasped, he groans continuously, he weeps copiously; he unrolls the contract, he laments his gold in those letters, bringing forth the bond like the garment of a dead son; his grief is stirred more hotly from that than from anything else. And if the loan is a maritime one, he sits by the shores, he worries about the movements of the winds, he constantly asks those putting into port whether a shipwreck has been heard of anywhere, whether those sailing encountered danger. He chills his soul ^B with the remnants of his daily anxiety. To such a man it must be said: Cease, O man, from your perilous care. Put away your agonizing hope, lest while seeking interest you lose even the principal. You seek revenue and additions to your wealth from the poor man, doing something similar to one who, from a field dried up by intense heat, would wish to take stacks of grain, or a multitude of grapes from a vine after a hailstorm has visited it, or the fruit of children from a barren womb, or the nourishment of milk from women who have not conceived. No one attempts things that are contrary to nature and impossible; for besides achieving nothing, he would also incur laughter as a mockery. God alone is omnipotent, who from desperate things finds the means and creates things beyond hope and expectation, now commanding ^C a spring to flow from a rock, then raining down from heaven an unusual and strange bread, and again making sweet the bitter Marah by the touch of wood; and making the womb of the barren Elizabeth fruitful, and giving Samuel to Anna, and to Mary the firstborn in virginity. These alone are the works of the omnipotent hand. But you, do not seek interest on bronze and gold, things that are barren by nature, nor force poverty to do the things that the wealthy do, nor demand excessive payments from the one who is begging for the principal. For do you not know that the necessity of asking for a loan is a fitting cause for mercy? Therefore, the divine Scripture, which is the introductory writing ^D of piety, everywhere dictates…

^A that usury be forbidden. If you lend money to your brother, you shall not press him. And Grace, abounding in the fountain of goodness, legislates the remission of debts; where, indeed, it acts kindly, saying: *And do not lend to those from whom you hope to receive* (Luke 6:34). And elsewhere, in a parable, it severely punishes the harsh and unmerciful servant who, while his fellow servant was prostrating himself, was not moved to compassion, nor did he remit the trivial debt of a hundred denarii, even though he himself had received the remission of ten thousand talents. Further, our Savior, the teacher of all virtue, while prescribing to his disciples a rule of prayer that contains nothing ^B superfluous, added this article to the form of prayer, as if it were the most effective means to move God to mercy: *And forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors* (Matt. 6:12). How then will you pray, O usurer ^C? With what kind of conscience will you seek a good request from God, you who receive everything [for yourself], and ^D [yet ignore the commandment to give]? Or do you not know that your prayer is a reminder of inhumanity?

What have you remitted, that you seek remission? Of whom have you had mercy, that you implore mercy? And if you do give alms, is it not [the product of] your inhuman exactions, full of the calamities, tears, and groans of others? But if the ^A needy person knew from where you bestow your alms, he would certainly not receive them, fleeing, as it were, from tasting fraternal flesh and the blood of his own kin; he would say to you with the freedom of a sound mind: "Do not feed me, O man, from fraternal tears. Do not give to a needy person bread made from the groans of those who fare as poorly as I. Return to your fellow man that which you have unjustly snatched away, and I shall return you thanks." What benefit do you provide, when you make many poor, and comfort only one? If there were not a multitude of usurers, there would not be such a multitude of the needy. Dissolve your faction, and we shall all have what is sufficient. Everyone accuses the usurers, and there is no law, prophet, or evangelist that can remedy this evil. Such as the divine Amos thon ^B thunders: "Hear this, you who crush the poor in the morning and oppress the needy on the earth, saying, When will the month pass, and we shall sell our wares?" For not even fathers rejoice at the birth of children as much as usurers rejoice at the completion of the months.

They call their sin by honorable names; they call their gain "philanthropic" (human-loving), in imitation of the Greeks, who (41) call certain man-hating and murderous demons—instead of their true name—the Eumenides (Kindly Ones). Is it philanthropy? For is not the interest—an exaction that crushes households, exhausts wealth, and makes those of good birth live a life worse than that of slaves—something that delights for a short while at the beginning, but prepares a bitter life for them afterwards? For just as birds, which are entrapped by bird-catchers, are delighted at first by the scattered seeds and frequent the places where they find ^C abundant food for themselves, but a little later, once caught in the nets, they perish; so too those who take interest on loans, having been well-off for a short time, later fall away even from their ancestral home. And mercy is exiled from the corrupt and avaricious souls (45) of usurers; and seeing the very house of the debtor set up for sale, they are not moved to pity, but rather [eagerly] hasten the sale.

so that by receiving the money more quickly, they may bind some other wretched person in the toils of usury, after the manner of tireless and insatiable hunters, who, having encircled one valley with nets and caught all the beasts lurking within it, drive their stakes ^A to neighboring valleys, and from these to others, and so on, until they have emptied mountains of their game. With what eyes, then, do you, being such a man, look up to heaven? And how do you ask for the remission of sins? Or perhaps you say this in your prayers out of stupor, that which the Savior taught us: "And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors"? How many have destroyed themselves by the noose on account of usury, or thrown themselves headlong into rivers, judging death more tolerable than the usurer, leaving behind orphaned children for whom poverty has begun to be a stepmother that is neither kind nor gentle! But those illustrious usurers, indeed, do not even pity houses bereft of parents; but they drag away and plunder the heirs, to whom perhaps nothing has fallen by inheritance except the noose, and they demand gold from those who procure their own sustenance from the generosity of others. When, however, the death of the debtor is—as is fitting—reproached to them, and when some mention the noose so that they might blush, they are not affected by any shame at all for this deed, nor do they tremble in their souls, but rather they pour forth from an ulcerated heart words full of impudence: "And will it be ascribed to our character," they say, "if that wretch and man of poor mind, born under an unhappy star, compelled by the necessity of fate, has laid violent hands upon himself?" For usurers also philosophize, and become disciples of the Egyptian mathematicians, when there is need to compose an apology for their crimes and detestable deeds and their homicides. ^C Such a one, therefore, must be addressed with this speech: "You are that unfortunate birth, and that unhappy necessity of the stars. For if you had lightened his care, and had released even a part of the debt, and had accepted a portion with remission, he would not have hated the light as something hateful, nor would he have become his own executioner. And with what eyes will you look upon the murdered man at the time of the resurrection (52)? For you will both come to the tribunal of Christ, where usury is not calculated, but the account of a life lived will be judged. And what will you answer when accused before the incorrupt judge, when He says to you: 'You had the law, the prophets, the evangelical injunctions. You heard them all together, at once, crying out with one voice to love and philanthropy, with these admonishing you: Thou shalt not lend at usury to thy brother (55),' and others saying: 'Thou shalt not give thy silver at usury'; and others, 'If you lend to your brother..."

thou shalt not oppress him.' ^A Matthew also in the parables cried out, announcing the Lord's command, saying: 'Thou wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt, because you asked me: oughtest not thou also to have had compassion on thy fellow-servant, even as I had pity on thee?' And the Lord being angry, delivered him to the tormentors, until he should pay all that was due unto him. Then a late and fruitless repentance will take hold of you; heavy groanings will seize you, and an inevitable punishment. Gold will be of no help there, nor will silver bring relief. The taking of usury is more bitter than gall. These are not empty threats of words, but the very truth of the matter; they bear witness to the future judgment before experience makes it known, wherefore a prudent man, and one who has a care for the future, will zealously take heed.

Ut ^B truly I might provide some benefit to those listening, by recounting something that happened in our own age, in the house of a certain usurer, before that judgment of God, attend: even if perhaps many of you already have this, which I am about to recount, known to you.

There was a certain man in this city (I shall not speak his name, fearing to seem to want to mock the dead by naming them), whose sole art was to lend and to derive some profit from detestable usury. Seized by this disease of avarice, he became tenacious and sordid to himself and his own (as misers are wont to be), in that he would not set out a sufficient table, nor change his garments except when compelled by greatest necessity, nor provide for his children the necessities for subsistence, nor make use of baths from fear of the ^C fee of the three obols; but he was devising every way, whence he might further increase the count of his monies. Nor did he consider any person a trustworthy guardian of his purse, neither son, nor servant, nor money-changer, nor key, nor seal; but depositing his gold in the holes of the walls, and smearing over the mud on the outside, he kept the treasure known to no one, changing places from place to place, and walls from walls, and cleverly scheming to lie hidden from all. Suddenly he departed from life, having declared to none of his family where the gold had been buried. And so he himself was buried ^D also, having gained this one thing, namely, that he himself was hidden away under the earth. But his children, when they hoped that they would be the richest of all the citizens, sought everywhere, inquired of one another, examined the servants, dug up the floors of the houses, undermined the walls, rummaged through the houses of neighbors and acquaintances, and "having moved every stone," as the saying goes, they did not find even an obol. They lead their lives in...

the present time as exiles, bereft of home and hearth, every day detesting their father’s folly.

Such, therefore, O usurers, was your friend and companion—a man who ended his life in a manner worthy of his habits, a vain and fickle financier who, though he struggled with countless troubles and hunger itself, procured for himself eternal torments as if by hereditary right, while leaving poverty to his children. You do not know, miserable men, for whom you are scraping together and hoarding. The turns of fortune's wheel are various; there are infinite impostors, and many a treacherous man or bandit disturbs both land and sea. See to it that, having lost your gold, your main profit does not turn out to be sin. ^B "But this speech," they say, "is odious and heavy for us." I know your grumbling and the gnashing of your teeth, even though I endeavor more often from this higher place to strengthen you in the right path. "He begrudges," they say, "those who receive benefits and those who are in need. Therefore, we shall refrain from giving loans." And what life will the needy and afflicted lead? Indeed, an utterance worthy of their habits, and an objection fitting for those who are darkened by the shadows of riches. For they do not have a sufficiently strengthened judgment of mind to be able to understand what is said. Hence, they take the warnings of those who advise them rightly in the contrary sense; for just as they threaten, while I am speaking, that they will not give loans to the poor, so they mutter and threaten that they will shut their doors against the needy when they come.

I, for my part, first preach and proclaim that one ought to give as a gift. Then, I also exhort one to lend. For a loan is a second form of gift. But this should be done without interest or surcharges, ^C just as the divine Word has commanded us. For both the one who does not give a loan and the one who gives it with interest are equally liable to punishment. For the inhumanity of the former, and the huckster's gain of the latter, have both been condemned. But these men flee to the opposite extreme, promising to withhold the gift altogether. Yet this is a shameless defiance, a manic rivalry against justice, a strife and war against God. "For," says one, "I will either not give, or if I lend, I will fix the contract with interest."

So then, regarding the usurers, the argument has contended sufficiently against them, and the points of the indictment are shown clearly, as if in a court of law. And may God grant them repentance for their evil deeds. But toward those who readily take loans and cast themselves recklessly into the ^D hooks of usury, I shall say no word, judging as sufficient for them the counsel which our inspired Father Basil wisely worked out in his own treatise on this subject, in which he spoke at greater length to those who take loans thoughtlessly than to those who lend out of avarice.

OF OUR HOLY FATHER GREGORY, ON LOVING THE POOR AND EMBRACING BENEVOLENCE, ORATION I

^A The president of this Church, and those teachers of pure piety and of a life lived according to virtue, have much in common with the instructors and masters of the primary elements of letters. For just as those, having received from their parents children who are still infants and babbling, do not immediately burden them with the hidden precepts of the disciplines, but first trace the letter alpha in wax, and the letters that follow, teaching them to know their names and exercising their hands upon the inscribed forms; and after this, advance them to syllables, and then instruct them in the pronunciation of words; in the same way, the leaders of the Church, first leading the listener to the rudimentary elements of instruction, then step-by-step reveal those things which are more perfect and more recondite.

Since, therefore, during the two previous days we have disciplined the lust of the throat and the belly, do not suppose that today too I shall speak of the customary things, that it is good to disdain meats, and to abstain from wine, which is a companion of laughter and madness; and to restrain the cooks, and the hand of the cupbearer, weary from preparing and pouring out cups. For these things have been sufficiently spoken of by me, and you have demonstrated the effectiveness of the counsel by your own deeds. But since you have practiced this first lesson, it is right to move forward to impart, in turn, teachings that are greater and more robust.

^B There is, therefore, also a bodiless fast and an immaterial self-control, which turns toward the soul the abstinence from evil; and it is for the sake of that fast that this abstinence from foods has also been prescribed to us. Fast, therefore, from malice; ^C for this kind of fasting—and this degree of self-control, which is removed from the body and from matter, and which respects the soul alone—is accomplished by our refraining from vices; and of this fast, the grace...

^A of self-denial is the beginning. Refrain from the desire for what belongs to others; starve the greed for Mammon. Let there be nothing in your house that is stored up from violence and robbery. For what is the benefit if you do not bring meat to your mouth, and yet with malice you bite your brother? Or what benefit is it if you do not eat your own, and yet unjustly take what belongs to the poor? What kind of piety is this, if while drinking water, you contrive deceit and hunger for blood out of wickedness? Judas, after all, fasted with the eleven; but because he did not tame his avaricious disposition, the fasting profited him nothing for his salvation. And the devil does not eat, ^B for he is a spirit without a body; yet because of his wickedness he fell from the height of his rank. Likewise, with respect to every one of the demons, neither is thirst brought against them, nor can they be accused of overeating or drunkenness. For their nature has separated them from the participation of food. Yet, both by night and by day, wandering through the air, they are the authors and ministers of wickedness, and they labor diligently to plot against us. They melt away with malice and envy, which it is better to flee, if we indeed intend to have as humans a relationship with God, since they themselves have fallen from that affinity with the good. And so, the philosophical way of life ^C should guide the lives of Christians. Let the soul flee the damage of malice. For if, although we abstain from wine and meat, we remain liable to sins of the heart, I forewarn and testify that water and vegetables and a bloodless table will profit us nothing, if we have an inner disposition that is unlike our outward appearance. Fasting was ordained for the sake of the purity of the soul. But if that purity is dissolved by our purpose and other actions, why do we use up pure drinking water in vain? Why do we cultivate that mire that cannot be washed away or cleansed? What is the benefit of bodily fasting if the mind is not clean? For it is of no use if the currency is strong and the chariot is well-ordered, ^D if the charioteer is insane. Or what is the benefit of a well-fitted ship if the pilot is drunk? Fasting is the foundation of virtue. But just as the hulls of ships and the foundations of a house, even if you lay down massive ones, are useless and vain if you do not build the remaining parts upon them with skill and knowledge: so also, this self-control will have no profit unless other parts of justice are added to it. Let the fear of God teach the tongue to speak what is fitting, to be silent about contrary things, to observe the occasion, the measure, and the necessary word, and an apt reply; not to speak without order; not to crush those we meet with severity. For this reason that most delicate membrane, which binds the tongue to the lower jaw, is called the bridle, that it might not speak disorderly and without method. Let it use praises, not insults; songs, not curses; commendations, not disparagement. Let the wayward hand be restrained as if by a chain by the memory of God. For this reason we fast, because our Lamb—insults and blows, beforehand

was afflicted before being fastened to the cross with nails. Let us not imitate the Jewish character, we who are disciples of Christ.

For if we are so disposed, Isaiah will say to us: "Why do you fast for contests and strifes, and strike the lowly with your fists?" Learn from the same prophet the works of a sincere and pure fast: "Loose every bond of wickedness. Dissolve the obligations of violent contracts. Break your bread for the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house." ^A The present time brings us a great abundance of those who are naked and homeless. For a multitude of those captured by misfortune frequents the doors of everyone.

Nor are strangers and exiles lacking; and one can see the hand seeking aid extended everywhere. For them, the air serves as a roof in the open. Their lodgings are porticoes, crossroads, and the deserted parts of the marketplace. They hide in caves and crevices after the fashion of night-ravens and owls. Their clothing is tattered rags; their agriculture is the kindness of those who pity them, food being whatever might fall into their hands from those who pass by; their drink, like that of creatures without reason, is from the springs; their cup is the hollow of their hands; their storehouse is their bosom—if indeed it is not torn, but is able to cover what is put into it; their table is the joining of their knees; their bed is the ground; their bath is a river or a pool, which God gave as common to all and without preparation. Their life is nomadic and wild, not because they established it so from the beginning, but because they have been forced into it by calamity and necessity.

^B To these, you who fast, provide the necessities. Be generous toward those of your brothers who are unfortunate. What you have taken from your own belly, add to that of the hungry. Let the fear of God be the righteous arbiter of these things. Treat with temperate self-control two affections at odds with each other: your own satiety and your brother’s famine. For this is what physicians also do: they empty some and fill others, so that by addition and subtraction the health of each may be preserved. Be persuaded by this noble exhortation. Let reason provide the poor access to the houses of the wealthy. Let counsel lead the needy to the one who possesses. Let not mere talk enrich those who groan. Rather, let the eternal Word of God grant them a home, a bed, and a table. Through kindly discourse, provide from your own means what is necessary for their need. ^C Among these, let there be other poor who are infirm and bedridden. Let each take concern for his neighbors. Do not allow your neighbor to be tended by another. Do not let another take the treasure that lies before you. Embrace the one afflicted by calamity as if he were gold. Cherish the one who is mistreated as if he were your own health, as the salvation of your wife, your children, your servants, and your entire household.

^A For when all the poor are to be cherished and helped, those who are sick are to be embraced with special care. For he who is needy and sick labors under a double poverty. The destitute, who are sound in body, go from door to door and walk up to those who have means. Sitting at the crossroads, they call out to all who pass by. But those who are fettered by sickness, enclosed in narrow lodgings and confined to the cramped corners of a room, like Daniel in the lions' den, wait for you—the pious and the lover of the poor—as if you were Habakkuk.

Therefore, become a companion of the Prophet through almsgiving; approach the needy quickly and readily to nourish them. You will suffer no loss in doing this. Do not fear; the fruit of almsgiving grows many-fold. Sower of benefits, that you may reap the fruit and fill your house with goodly sheaves. ^B But you will say, "I too am poor." Be it so. Let it be granted. Give what you have. For God does not require from you what is beyond your strength. You give bread, another a cup of wine, a third a garment, and thus, by the contribution of many, the calamity of one is relieved. Even Moses did not receive the expense for the tabernacle from one person’s service, but from the whole people. For the wealthy brought gold, another silver, the poor skins, and he who was poorer than the poor brought hair. Do you see how even the widow's mite surpassed the offerings of the rich? For she poured out everything she had, while from their abundance, scarcely a tiny token fell. Do not despise the poor who lie there as if they were of no value. Consider who they are, and you will recognize their dignity: they have taken on the person of our Savior. ^C For the kind One has granted them His own person, that through it, they might shame the unsympathetic and those who hate the poor, just as those who hold up royal images against those who do them violence, so that by the likeness of the sovereign, they might shame the offender and their assault might be broken and held back. So too, those who are moved by no compassion and who pursue the poor with hatred might be swayed, softened, and moved to prayer by that same image. These are the storekeepers of the good things we expect. These are the gatekeepers of the kingdom of heaven, who open the doors to the kind and good, and close them to the harsh and inhuman. These are both fierce accusers and excellent advocates. They advocate and accuse, not by speaking, but by being seen by the Judge. For the deed done regarding them cries out before the Knower of hearts more clearly than any herald. Because of them, the fearful judgment of God—of which you have often heard—was recorded for us by the angels. ^D For I saw there the Son of man coming from the heavens, treading upon the air as if it were earth, and accompanied by the many myriads of angels. Then a throne of glory was raised on high, and the King sat upon it. Then every tribe of men, all the nations, all the peoples, who have come into being and were illuminated by the sun, and were drawn from this air, in two

^A parts separated to stand before the tribunal of the Judge. I hear those who are on the right being called lambs; those on the other side, I heard, are goats—taking their appellations upon themselves from the similarity of their character. And there are dialogues there of the Judge with those being judged, and answers of those being held to account toward the King. And that which was appropriate for each was allotted. To those who had lived the best life, the enjoyment of the Kingdom; but to the misanthropic and wicked, the punishment of fire, and this one that endures forever. And everything is written down carefully; and the tribunal has been vividly depicted for us by the Word, for no other reason than that we might learn the goodness of doing good. For this is what sustains life, the mother of the needy, the teacher of the rich, a good nurse of children, a caretaker for the elderly, a storehouse for those lacking, a common ^B harbor for the unfortunate, dispensing her own providence to all ages and calamities.

For just as those who preside over the games of vanity proclaim their own generosity with a trumpet, promising the distribution of wealth to all those in the wrestling arena, so also doing good calls everyone who is in difficulties and crises to itself—not distributing rewards for wounds to those who approach, but dispensing remedies and healing for their calamities. And this is higher than every praiseworthy deed, an assessor of God, a friend of the good, and having a great kinship with Him. Thus, before all things, God Himself appears to us as the practitioner of good and humane deeds; for the creation of the earth, and the arrangement of the heaven, and the orderly succession of the seasons, and the heat of the sun, and the chilling formation of ice, and everything in each detail—not for Himself does God Himself effect these—for He is in no need of such things—but He is constantly working for our sake; an invisible farmer of human food, a timely sower, and a skilled provider of irrigation.

For He, according to Isaiah, gives seed to the sower and water from the clouds, now sprinkling it gently upon the earth, ^C and again pouring it in torrents over the furrows. And when the crops have grown and the grassy stage has passed, dispersing the clouds from the entire sky, then He sets the sun over them, naked of any covering, stretching out its hot and burning ray, so that the ears of corn may become ripe for harvest. He nurtures also the vine, preparing drink for the thirsty at the appropriate times; and He nurtures for us herds of different kinds, so that there may be abundant food for men—and the skins of some, producing wool, provide us with shelter; and of others, they fashion for us our footwear. Do you see that God is the first lover of doing good, thus feeding the hungry, and giving drink to the thirsty, and clothing the naked, as was said before? ^D And when the crops have grown and the greenness has appeared, then, the clouds having been scattered and dispersed, He shows them the sun, naked and open from all coverings, and sends it down so that, warmed by its hot and burning rays, they may reach maturity and show spikes suitable for harvesting.

What then? Because He even nourishes the vine and thus grants drink to the thirsty at the fitting time. What then? Because He also nourishes various kinds of animals, to provide men with both flesh for eating, and skins, which furnish wool for shielding and for making clothes, and for sewing shoes. You see how God is the first author and source of beneficence, feeding the hungry, giving to the thirsty, and covering the naked, as we said before.

^A If, however, you wish to hear how He also cures those laboring under disease, those who are ill-affected and afflicted, listen. Who taught the bee to manufacture wax and with it the honey? Who caused the pine, the terebinth, and the mastic tree to distill that rich resinous sap? Or who created the land of the Indians to be the mother of dry and fragrant fruits, and of sweet-smelling gums? Who brought forth the olive as a relief for bodily labors and pains? Who gave us the knowledge of roots and herbs, and the learning concerning the qualities that are within them? Who devised the medicine which produces and preserves health? Who drew forth from the earth the springs of warm waters, that by their power we might be healed of our cold and moist, or dry and scorched, afflictions and diseases? It is right, therefore, and timely for me to use the words of Baruch: *He found out all the way of knowledge, and gave it to Jacob his servant, and to Israel his beloved.* ^B Through Him all arts, whether practiced by fire, or without fire, or in water, were invented; through Him were countless sciences devised, so that nothing whatsoever might be lacking to men that pertains to the necessity and convenience of carrying on life. And God, indeed, as the inventor and fountain of beneficence and generosity, benignly supplies all things that are necessary for us.

But we, who are instructed by every single word of the divine Scripture to imitate our Lord and Creator (insofar as a mortal can imitate the blessed and immortal), grab everything for our own enjoyment, and measure everything by our own pleasures; some things we lavish on the delicacies of our own life, and other things we hoard for the greed of our heirs. But there is no consideration for the wretched, no suitable care for the poor, and no concern. O cruel souls! O minds entirely alienated ^C from all mercy! A man sees another man in need of bread, not having the necessary sustenance of life, and yet he does not succor him with a prompt and eager mind, nor afford him salvation; but he despises him, and, like a flourishing plant, allows him to wither from a lack of water; and this even though he himself is flooded with the greatest abundance, and is able to satisfy and refresh the poverty of many from his own overflow. For just as the flow from one spring makes many long and wide-reaching plains of fields fertile and productive, so too can the wealth of one house rescue and sustain a multitude of the poor from the straits of indigence, provided that a thrifty and stingy mind does not, like a fallen stone, turn back and intercept the veins and rivulets of ^D benevolence that should flow forth publicly as from a fountain.

Let us not live for the flesh in all things: let us live somewhat for God. For the delicacies of banquets, which enter into the belly, can bring to the flesh only as much pleasure as is the space which the throat encompasses. For as soon as they have slipped into the belly, they putrefy and pass away through the lower parts. But mercy and beneficence are matters pleasing to God, and in whatever man they dwell, they make him divine, and stamp him with the likeness of the Good, so that

he is adorned with the image of that first and impassible nature which surpasses all mind. But what kind of end to their striving and toil do they promise? ^A

Now, indeed, a glorious hope and an expectation full of joy; but later, when we have stripped off the spoils of this constantly flowing flesh and put on immortality, a blessed life, which shall have no end, and which is subject to no evils, dwelling in pleasures and delights that are supreme and wonderful, and which here cannot be grasped by our understanding.

Therefore, you who are endowed with reason and adorned with the mind as an interpreter and teacher of divine things, do not, I beseech you, be seduced by the flatteries of fleeting and perishable things, ^B or allow yourselves to be enticed and captured like bait. Embrace Him who will never desert the one who possesses Him; set a limit to the use of life. Do not think that all things are yours; let there be a portion also for the poor and the friends of God. For all things belong to God, our common Father. We, however, are brothers as being of the same race. And as for brothers, the best and most just thing is to divide the inheritance in equal shares. But when this is not done, and one or another appropriates more, the rest should at least receive one portion. But if anyone wishes to be the master of absolutely everything and wants to turn away the entire inheritance, and exclude his brothers from a third or fifth share, he is not a brother, but a bitter tyrant, a ruthless barbarian, ^C indeed an insatiable wild beast, who with gaping mouth devours the delicious viands alone, or rather, is even more savage and rustic than the beasts themselves; forasmuch as the wolf admits a fellow wolf into the feast for the sake of devouring the prey, and many dogs sometimes tear the same body asunder. But this man makes no human being of his own kind a participant in his wealth. A moderate table suffices for you. Do not cast yourself into that sea of licentious feasting, so that you crave banquets furnished with every kind of food. For there a grave shipwreck occurs, in which you are not struck against rocks hidden under the sea, but are thrust down into a most deep and dark chasm, from which he who has once fallen never emerges.

Use, therefore, but do not abuse; for so also Paul taught. ^D Recreate yourself with modest enjoyment. Temperately relax your mind. Do not let luxuries so overwhelm you that you exult with excessive joy and revel in insane pleasures. Do not be the destruction of absolutely all animals, whether large, small, birds, fish, those easily obtained, those rare, those cheap, or those of great price. Do not satisfy one belly with the sweat of many hunters. Do not let your throat be like a chasm, or a whirlpool, or a vast and deep well, to fill which many hands must labor. Because of the luxury and delicacies of men, not only is the deep sea stirred up; not only are the fish swimming in the waters caught; but others, whatever animals dwell in the waters, are thence dragged out onto land and into this air. Thus

the ingenuity used by the pleasure-seekers devises various traps to ensnare them, and has laboured to discover various snares and wiles to bring them forth to behold this light of heaven. And what sort of things follow such luxuries? ^A For it is inevitable that luxury, wherever that disease has once taken root and grown, should pull along the accompanying materials of wickedness. Hence, those who have set themselves to live softly and delicately are necessarily drawn into the construction of magnificent buildings, and they expend great wealth on the size of their houses and curious ornaments. ^B To these they willingly call and invite companies of men, and diligently prepare splendid clothing and varied furnishings. They have tables made of silver worth many talents, some polished until they are perfectly smooth, others fashioned with artistic carving, so that it may be possible for the guests at once to regale their throats with feasts and to delight their eyes by gazing at and reading the histories depicted there. Reckon up for me what follows: craters, tripods, jars, vessels for pouring, platters, myriad types of drinking cups, buffoons, mimes, cithara-players, singers, wits, musicians, female musicians, dancers, dancing girls—the whole performance of wantonness; boys effeminated with their hair, shameless girls—whom because of their immodesty you might rightly call sisters of Herodias, destroying John, that is, the mind which is godlike and studious of wisdom in everyone.

While these things are being enacted inside, countless Lazaruses sit at the gates of the vestibule; some full of ulcers, others deprived of their eyes, others groaning from the mutilation of their feet; some of them, though stripped of almost all their limbs, yet dare to crawl, and in some way make progress. They cry out, but they are not heard. For the din of the pipes and the melodies of the automatic songs, and the guffawing of those who are laughing unrestrainedly, hinder it. But if they happen to trouble the doors a little more insistently, a bold doorkeeper, springing out from somewhere for his merciless master, drives them away with rods, calling them shameless dogs, and flaying their wounds with lashes. ^C So the friends of Christ, in whom is set the sum of the commandments, depart having received not even a morsel of bread nor any piece of food, but having instead gained insults and blows. Inside, however, in the workshop of Mammon, some, like overly laden ships, vomit up their food; others fall asleep at the table with the cups present. A double sin is committed in that shameful house: one for the surfeit of the drunkards, and the other for the famine of the excluded poor.

If God looks upon these things, as he clearly does behold them, what reversal of life, what outcome do you think there will be, you enemies of the poor? Tell me, I pray you, do you not know that it is for the sake of such things that all the horrid and terrible examples are placed and commemorated in the holy Gospel? And it is recorded, indeed, how he who had been nourished in fine linen, and was constrained in the abyss of evils, ^D groaned heavily and sighed;

^A regarding the other, similar to him, was he not, when at evening he was pondering the delights of the morning, condemned to such an unexpected and sudden death that he could not even behold the rays of the rising sun? Therefore, since we are mortal, let us not cast away the faith, nor enjoy our pleasures as if we were immortal. For we are generally disposed in this way, whoever of us wishes to indulge our own genius and satisfy the flesh in all things: as though we were householders who would never have a successor, and as perpetual masters of human affairs, we perform the sowing at the time of harvest, and when it is time to sow, we hope for the joy of the harvest. We plant a plane tree, and hope for the shadow of that tall tree. We commit the seed of the palm to the earth, and look forward to the sweetness of its fruit. And these things are done often in old age itself, when the autumn of life is already present, and the winter of death is approaching, and the time remaining in life is not a series of years, but three or four days.

Let us think, therefore, as rational beings, how transitory is this life of ours, and how the time flows, unstable and unchecked, like the current of a river, driving all that is within it toward the end of destruction. And would that, being brief and frail, it were also free from account! But this is the dangerous part: that for every hour, nay, even for the words which we utter, we must render an account before the incorruptible tribunal. ^B For this reason also the blessed Psalmist, turning himself toward a realization similar to what is now being said, desires to know the limit of his own end. He beseeches God to be taught the number of his remaining days, so that he may prepare himself for the tasks of his departure, and not be suddenly troubled like an unprepared traveler walking along the way and looking about for the necessary provisions. He says, therefore: "Make me to know, O Lord, my end, and the number of my days, what it is; that I may know what I lack. Behold, thou hast made my days as handbreadths, and my being is as nothing before thee." See the good concern of a prudent soul, and that, too, in a man established in royal dignity. For he looks toward the King of kings and the Judge of judges; and he seeks, having acquired the perfect garment of the commandments, to depart as one who is sound, a citizen of that country above—the which may we all attain by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

BY THE SAME GREGORY: ON THE LOVE OF THE POOR, ORATION II

A Discourse on the Gospel passage: "Inasmuch as you did it to one of these," and what follows.

^A Still I am detained in the contemplation of that terrifying coming of the great King, which the Gospel describes for us. Still my soul, as I attentively consider the fear which that mention inspires, shrinks and shudders. For I seem to behold the heavenly King Himself, as it is described there, sitting in a fearful manner upon the throne of majesty. And I perceive that magnificent throne—whatever that throne may be—which contains Him who is contained by no place. I see those countless myriads of angels surrounding the King. I behold the great and terrible King Himself, looking down from His immense glory upon human nature, and gathering to Himself every generation of men, as many as are found from the time when men began to be generated until the day of that fearful coming. And to each, according to the standard of their life and the merits of their previous conduct, He either awards rewards or imposes punishments: placing those who have lived rightly and holily on the right hand, as it is said, while those who have behaved basely and wickedly are placed on the left and condemned. And I hear Him addressing both, though in a different manner. For He speaks to some with those sweetest and most auspicious words: "Come, you blessed of my Father"; but to others with that horrible and terrifying threat: "Depart, you cursed, into eternal fire."

^B Thus is my soul affected and terrified as I read and consider these things, that I seem to think them not being read, but being fulfilled, and not being spoken, but being enacted; and I seem to be not merely hearing, but to be actually present in the very events themselves. Therefore, I feel nothing more of present things, nor does my mind have leisure to turn to anything else among the matters proposed for my investigation ^C and contemplation—though, indeed, these are no small matters, nor worthy of little inquiry: to know how He who is always present comes. For "Lo," He says, "I am with you all the days." And if it is believed that He is with us, how is it promised that He will come, as if He were not already present? If

indeed in Him, as the Apostle says, we live and move and have our being, there is no way ^A that the One who encompasses all things could spatially exclude those who are contained within Him; so that one should expect Him either not to be present now to those who are encompassed by Him, or to be present at some later time. But what, too, is the throne of the Incorporeal? And the manifestation of the Invisible? And the form of the Shapeless? And the circumscription of the Uncircumscribed upon a throne? All these things, as being greater than our present time, I shall defer. But that we may not be thrust into the order of the outcasts, to this end, as much as I am able, I shall turn my discourse to our common profit. For I am exceedingly, brothers, exceedingly terrified by the threat; and I do not deny the affliction of my soul. I would that you also would not have a contemptuous attitude toward fears. For, "Blessed is the man who fears everything out of reverence," ^B and he who despises a matter shall be despised by it, as the word of Wisdom says somewhere. Therefore, before the time of evils arrives, let us take care not to experience these sorrows. But what is the deliverance from these fearful things? It is to choose this way of life which the Word has now pointed out to us, the one that is truly recent and living.

What is this way? "I was hungry, and I gave you to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me to drink; I was a stranger, and you took me in; naked, and you clothed me; I was sick, and you visited me; I was in prison, and you came to me." Insofar as you did it ^C to one of these least, you did it to me. And because of this, He says, "Come, you blessed of my Father." What do we learn from these things? That blessing is the diligent keeping of the commandments; but curse is the slothfulness regarding the commandments. Let us love the blessing, and let us flee the curse. For it is in our power to choose or not to choose either one; for in whatever direction we incline with our will, in that we shall be. Therefore, let us make the Lord of the blessing our own, He who reckons the zeal spent upon the needy as though it were spent upon Himself; and especially now, when the commandment has much material in the present life. For many are in need of necessities, and many are in need ^D of the body itself, being consumed by a grievous disease. Therefore, in the zeal spent upon these, let us secure for ourselves the good promise; I speak clearly here of those who have been mangled by a grievous disease. For by as much as their infirmity is greater, by so much, evidently, is the blessing greater for those who carry out the arduous task of the commandment. What then must be done? Not to go against the ordinance of the Spirit. This is, not to alienate ourselves from those who share our nature, nor to imitate those condemned in the Gospel, I mean the priest and the Levite, who passed by without sympathy

^A for that miserable man whom the story reports was left half-dead by the robbers. For if those men are found guilty because they did not turn their attention to the wounds swelling upon his naked body, how shall we, who imitate those very culprits, not fall under the same condemnation? Surely, the spectacle presented by that man who had fallen among robbers was not so pitiable as that presented by those who are oppressed by a calamity of this kind. You see a man transformed by the severity of a disease into the shape of a quadruped, having covered his hands with wood in place of hooves and claws, and thus pressing a new kind of footprint into the human paths. Who, from that form, could recognize that a human being had imprinted such tracks upon his journey? Man, who in his form is upright, who looks toward heaven, to whom nature gave hands as an instrument for accomplishing tasks, is bent toward the earth, and becomes a quadruped, and is little short of appearing devoid of reason. With difficulty he draws breath, grows hoarse, and elicits a rumbling from his innermost vitals, being (may one speak boldly?) more calamitous than the very animals themselves that are devoid of reason. For they, as a rule, preserve the form they received from birth until the end; nor is any one of them changed from that form into another on account of some disease. But this one, as if his nature were changed, appears as something else, and not the animal he was accustomed to be; his hands perform the function of feet for him; his knees provide the use of soles; for his natural soles and ankles either vanish completely, or, like some extraneous skiffs rashly attached to ships, are dragged along by chance. ^B In these cases, do you see a human being and feel no shame for the kinship? Do you not pity one who is of the same nature? Instead, do you loathe the calamity and hate the supplicant, avoiding his approach just as you would shun the onset of some wild beast? And yet, you ought to have been restrained by this thought, if nothing else: that an angel, free from body and matter, did not disdain to touch you, a being mixed and compounded of flesh and blood, even though you are a man. But why do I speak of angels, when the Lord of angels himself, the King of heavenly blessedness, became man for your sake and clothed himself in this foul and filthy husk of flesh, along with the soul that was clothed within it, so that by his own touch he might heal your ailments? Yet you—who are the same by nature as the afflicted man—flee from a human being of the same kind. Do not, brother, I beseech you, let this wicked counsel please you. Consider who you are and concerning whom you are deliberating: it is a man, concerning other men, you yourself possessing nothing unique beyond the common nature. ^C Do not prejudge the future. For while you condemn the affection visible in another’s body, you are pronouncing an uncertain judgment upon the whole of human nature. Yet you are also a participant in that same nature, just like all the rest. Therefore, let there be deliberation as if upon a matter held in common.

^A Why, then, does no compassion for the things that are visible enter into you? You see nomadic people, wandering about like cattle in their need for food, possessing only rags—this is their clothing; a staff in their hands—this is their weapon, this is their carriage—and even this is not held by their fingers, but tied to their palms with certain straps; a tattered wallet, and a piece of bread corrupted by mold and rot; their hearth, their home, their bed, their couch, their storeroom, their table, every single provision of their life, is this wallet. And then, do you not consider who it is that is in this state? It is a human being, made in the image of God, appointed to rule over the earth, having the service of irrational creatures subject to him; he has come to such a state of calamity and change that the sight is ambiguous, for he bears no clear sign ^B of being a man, nor does he bear the marks of any other animal individually. If you compare him to a human, the human character repudiates such an ugliness; if you turn your inspection toward the irrational animals, they too do not admit to a likeness of what is seen. Only these men look toward each other alone, and flock together with one another because of the similarity of their affliction; they are creatures who are loathsome to others, but not loathsome to one another out of necessity. For since they are driven out from everywhere, they become a people of their own, rushing together toward one another. Do you see these joyless dancers, this mournful and gloomy chorus? How they parade their own misfortunes! How they make a spectacle of their own deformed nature, like certain jugglers displaying their many sorts of infirmities to those who happen by! They are poets of mournful melodies, composers of those wretched songs; tragedians of this empty and miserable tragedy, not using the sufferings of others for their tragedies, but filling the stage with their own evils. What figures they are! What stories they tell! And what do we hear them saying? How they were cast off by those who gave them birth, for no crime of their own! How they are driven out of common assemblies, festivals, and public gatherings, just like some murderers or parricides condemned to perpetual exile—or rather, far more miserable than those, for murderers are permitted to live elsewhere among men! But these people alone of all others are driven out from everywhere, as if declared to be common enemies; they are deemed unworthy of a single roof, a common table, or the use of utensils. And this is not yet the worst; for not even the springs are common to them alongside other men, nor are the rivers trusted, as if they would pull down some of the pollution of their infirmity. If a dog laps the water with its blood-thirsty tongue, the water is not considered loathsome because of the beast; if the sick man approaches the water, forthwith the water is condemned because of the man. These things they recount, these things they lament; for this reason, the wretched creatures are forced to throw themselves before men, becoming supplicants to anyone who happens by. Often I have shed tears at this gloomy spectacle, often I have been indignant at nature itself; and now, at the

^A memory, I am troubled. I have seen a pitiable affliction, I have seen a spectacle full of tears. Men lie along the roads; or rather, they are no longer men, but the miserable remnants of those who were once men, needing certain signs and tokens so that they may be believed to be human. For they no longer possess the characteristics of nature by which they might be recognized as men; they alone of all beings hate themselves, they alone celebrate their birthday through a curse, for they rightly hate that day which was the beginning of such a life for them. They are men who even blush to call themselves by the common name, lest by the sharing of the name they bring disgrace upon the common nature; always living with groans, they have an unceasing subject for their lamentations. For as long as they see themselves, they always have grounds for mourning, being at a loss as to what they should lament more: the parts of the body that are no longer there, or those that remain; those which the disease has already consumed, or those that are left for the disease to consume; the fact that they see such things upon themselves, or that they are not even able to see, their sight having been dimmed by the malady; that they have such things to tell about themselves, or that they are not even able to tell of their afflictions, having been deprived of their voice by the suffering; that they use such food, or that they cannot even take that easily, the disease hindering the power of eating through the decay of the parts around the mouth; that they suffer those things which are peculiar to the dead while still having sensation, or that they have been deprived of their very senses? For where among them is sight? Where is the sense of smell? Where is touch? Where are the rest of the senses, which the putrefaction, as the disease gradually eats away, consumes? For this reason they wander through all places like irrational animals, moving in search of more abundant pasture—their calamity serves as provision for the business of food, and in place of supplication they hold out their disease to everyone. ^B Being in need of those who lead them by the hand because of their infirmity, they support one another because of their destitution. For since each is weak by himself, they become a support to one another, using each other's limbs in place of those they lack. For they do not appear one by one; rather, misery has a certain wisdom in its planning of life, that they should wish to be seen with one another. For though each is pitiable when by himself, so as to make men more sympathetic, by adding their suffering to one another they become a common contribution of evil, each gathering pity for himself from some other misfortune. One holds out mutilated hands, another displays a swollen belly, another a mangled face, and another a leg that is rotting away; and whatever part of the body one happens to have exposed, he displays the affliction in it. What then? Does it suffice for this much to justify us so that we do not sin against the law of nature, to merely bewail the suffering of nature and treat the disease with words,

^A or is there need for us also of some deed that demonstrates sympathy and humanity toward such people? For what shadows are to the true realities, that is what words are when separated from deeds. For the Lord says that salvation does not consist in speaking, but in doing the deeds of salvation. Therefore, we must take hold of the commandment on their behalf. For let no one say this, that it is sufficient to provide food to those who have been settled far away, as it were, at some border of our life. For such a thought does not contain proof of any mercy or sympathy, but it is a sort of specious pretext for entirely banishing people from our life.

Then, are we not ashamed of our own way of life, if we make pigs and dogs our housemates? The hunter often does not even keep the puppy from his own bed, and the farmer knows how to welcome the calf with a kiss. And this is not yet the most extreme thing, but the traveler even washes with his own hands the feet of his donkey, and puts his hand to it, and cleans away the dung, and takes care of its bed, yet those who are of the same race and same nature, shall we consider more dishonorable even than those irrational animals? Do not do these things, do not, brothers; let not this judgment against human beings be ratified.

It is necessary to remember who we are, and about whom we are deliberating: that we are human beings deliberating about human beings, having nothing private, separated from the common nature, unto themselves. There is one entrance to life for all; there is one mode of life for all, eating and drinking; the activity of living is similar; the construction of the bodies is one; and the destruction of life brings everything composite to dissolution. Nothing of those things that are composed has a permanent constitution; like a bubble, the body is wrapped around our breath ^B for a little while, then we are extinguished, leaving behind no trace of this temporary gust in life, in pillars and stones and inscriptions as memorials, and not even these lasting forever.

Therefore, considering these things within yourself, "Do not become haughty," as the Apostle says, "but fear," lest you be legislating cruelty for yourself. Do you flee from the one who has grown ill? Tell me, I pray, what reason do you have for doing so? Is it because the fluid in him has been corrupted, and some putrid humor has been mixed into the blood, with black bile poured into the fluid? For these are the causes that physicians are accustomed to cite when they discourse about diseases. What crime, then, is it of the man, if his nature, being a fluid and unstable substance, has slipped into this kind of illness? But do you not see that it often happens even in the bodies of those who are healthy, that one who is sound in other respects is seized by an inflammation, or a carbuncle, or some such disease, when the moisture in a part—the material having been heated beyond what is necessary—is ignited, and because of this suffers inflammation and redness and some purulent decay? What then? Do we make war upon the part of the flesh that has grown ill? On the contrary, we turn all the healthy part of the body to the treatment of the one that is sick. Therefore, the ailment is not to be loathed. For if it were, then in our own case, when a part is in pain, the healthy part would be alienated from the

^A part of the body that is ailing, rather than our turning all the healthy parts to the cure of that which is suffering. The disease, then, is not detestable; otherwise, within ourselves, the healthy parts would recoil from that part which is in need of healing because it is afflicted with disease. What, then, separates us from them? What, indeed, is it? It is surely that we do not fear the threat of Him who says, "Depart from me into the eternal fire; for inasmuch as you did not do it to one of these, you did not do it to me." For if they truly thought these things were so, they would not have held such an opinion regarding the sick as to push them from themselves, and to consider their own zeal for the distressed as a contagion to our own life. If, therefore, we believe Him who promised to be faithful, we must lay hold of those commandments without which it is impossible to be worthy of the things hoped for. A stranger, and naked, and in need of food, infirm, and shut up in prison—this person is everything to you that has been foretold in the Gospel. He wanders shiftless and naked; naked, indeed, and in need of the necessities of life because of the poverty that follows the affliction. For he who has nothing from home, nor is able to become a hired laborer, is of necessity completely destitute of the things requisite for life, and he is a prisoner shackled by disease. ^B Therefore, you have the whole fullness of the commandments fulfilled in these people, and the Lord of all Himself becomes indebted to you for the kindnesses you perform for him. Why, then, do you strive against your own life? For not wishing to have the Lord of all as one’s own indwelling guest is nothing else than for one to become a powerful enemy to oneself. For just as He is invited in through the commandment, so He is separated through harshness. "Take," He says, "my yoke upon you"—by "yoke" He means the carrying out of the commandments. Let us obey the One who commands, and let us become the beast of burden of Christ, binding ourselves with the bonds of charity. Let us not recoil from such a yoke, let us not shake it off; it is sweet, it is light. It does not chafe the neck of the bearer, but soothes it. "Let us sow in blessings," says the Apostle, "that we may also reap in blessings." A manifold ear of corn shall sprout from such a sowing. The harvest of the Lord’s commandments is ample; the roots of the blessing are sublime. ^C Do you wish to know to what height the growth of these roots extends? They reach the very summits of heaven. For whatever you contribute to these, you will find stored up in the heavenly treasuries. Do not distrust the things that have been said, and do not think the friendship of such people is to be despised. Their hands may be maimed, but they are not too weak to bring help. Their feet have become useless, but they are not hindered from running to God. The light of their eyes has flowed away, but with their soul they see those good things which the gaze of the eyes cannot behold. Wherefore, do not look down upon the deformity of the body. Wait a little, and you shall behold what exceeds the faith of every miracle. For the things that befall the shifting nature of matter do not remain forever; but when the soul is released from the bond of this ^D frail and earthly prison, then it shines with its own beauty. And as a proof, even after this life, the rich man did not loath the hand of the beggar.

but rather asked that the finger which had once been corrupted might be ^A a minister of a drop of water to him, desiring to lick with his own tongue the finger of the beggar that was wet. He would not have desired this, had he beheld in the character of the soul that foulness which comes from the body. How many things is it likely that the rich man repeated in vain upon the change of his life! How many times did he deem the beggar blessed for the adversity in this life! How many times did he complain of his own lot, as though it had been allotted to him for the destruction of his soul! And if it had been permitted him to return to life, among whom would he have chosen to be again? Among those who live in prosperity in this life, or among those who endure hardship? But it is not obscure that he would have preferred the lot of those who pass their days in difficulty. For he asks that some one from the dead might become a messenger to his brothers, so that they, too, might not be harmed by the pride of wealth ^B or, having slipped through the slipperiness of pleasure, be carried down into the same chasm of Hades. Why, therefore, are we not made sober by such narratives? Why do we not engage in the noble commerce which the divine Apostle counsels? Your abundance, he says, for their lack, so that the surplus of their comfort may suffice for your salvation in the life to come. If, therefore, we wish to receive something good, let us provide it beforehand; if to be relieved after this, let us now give rest; if to be received by them into the eternal tabernacles, let us now receive them into our own; if to have the wounds of our sins healed, let us do the same for the bodies of those who are afflicted. For blessed are the merciful, for they shall find mercy.

But perhaps someone might say that the commandment is good for the future, but that for the present time one must exercise caution ^C lest one be contaminated by the contagion of the same disease, and because he wishes to avoid suffering anything that he does not desire, he thinks that the approach to such people should be avoided. These are mere words, and excuses, and fabrications, and certain specious coverings for sloth regarding the commandments of God. But the truth is not so. For there is no fear involved in the fulfillment of the commandment. Let no one try to cure evil with evil. How many can one see who, from their youth even to extreme old age, have devoted their labor to such ministrations, and yet for this reason the natural state of their bodies has not in any way become diminished by such zeal? Nor indeed can it happen by any probable reason. But since sometimes certain kinds of diseases rage, such as pestilences and other such things that depend on external causes—which, for instance, are generated from corrupted air or water—and these are suspected by many as if they were transmitted ^D from those who have been previously stricken to those who draw near, not that the disease itself, as I suppose, produces the infirmity in the healthy person by contagion, but that the similarity of the sickness, being brought on by a common epidemic, gives the disease the appearance of passing from those previously stricken to others. Here, however,

^A because the force of the affection is drawn inward and settles there, and the blood is in a certain manner corrupted by the mixing of putrefying humors, the affection stays solely within the sick person and is confined to him. And that this is the state of affairs, this should be the indication: Do those who labor under disease acquire anything of a better condition from the habituation and familiarity of those who are reported to be in good health, even if they are treated by them most diligently? Nothing at all. Thus, therefore, it is fair that the contrary should happen, so that nothing of the trouble from the sick should pass to those who are in good health. Wherefore, since the utility of the mandate is so great that by it the kingdom of heaven is obtained, and yet in exercising it there is no danger that the body should receive any detriment, what is the impediment that prevents us from cultivating the mandate of charity itself?

Against the Unchaste

^BBut you say it is a difficult thing to force oneself to embrace such things, which the nature of the many naturally and by a certain instinct of the soul abhors? It is well said; I agree with the argument that it is difficult. But what other thing achieved by virtue will you show to be free of difficulty? The law has set forth many sweats and labors for the hope of heavenly things, and has pointed out to men the road leading to life that is difficult to travel, having everywhere straitened it with the most laborious and most difficult requirements. For narrow and confined, He says, is the way that leads to life. What, then? Shall we, for this reason, despise that hope of the highest good, because it is not permitted for the lazy and indolent to aspire to it? Let us ask the young whether it is more laborious to live soberly, chaste, and continently, or to loosen the reins to desire and to enjoy pleasures sought everywhere in a dissolute and free manner; and which of these ways of life appears sweeter and more to be desired. It is doubtful to no one what they would answer. Shall we, therefore, embrace that which is pleasant and easy for that reason, but fail in virtue because it is difficult and laborious due to sloth? Yet those things are not approved by Him who laid down the laws of life. Hence, that spacious way leading downward to destruction is forbidden to us. Enter, He says, through the narrow and strait gate. Let us, therefore, consider this also as one of those institutions which are rightly carried out through labor: that we should bring into custom the mandate that has been cast out and discarded from life, and that we should alleviate and correct, by the assiduity of exercise, the natural offense and disgust of the soul by which we abhor it. For great is the power of habit, and it is accustomed to sprinkle a certain pleasure even upon things that are more difficult. Wherefore, let no one anymore object that the mandate is difficult and laborious; but rather let all acknowledge it to be useful and fruitful for those who rightly perform it. And since the magnitude of the gain is apparent, let all labor be alacritously undertaken. For since ^D this present life is beneficial to those in health, it is so by the compassion for those who are in misfortune; for a contribution of mercy is a good thing for those who have sense, stored up ahead of time against the adversities of others. For since the whole of human life is governed by one nature, and no one has any steady pledge of continuous good fortune for himself, it is fitting that we should always keep the gospel memory…

of the commandment which counsels us to do unto others as we would have them do unto us. As long, then, as you have a fair voyage, stretch out a hand to him who has suffered shipwreck. The sea is held in common, the swell is common, ^A the agitation of the waves is common; sunken reefs and shoals and crags, and all else that belongs to the shipwrecks of life, bring an equal measure of fear to all who sail it. As long as you are free from suffering, as long as you sail across the sea of life without danger, do not pass by the one who has fallen with a heart devoid of pity. Who is your guarantor for a continuous fair voyage? You have not yet put in at the harbor of rest; you have not yet stood clear of the waves; your life has not yet set foot upon firm ground. You are still carried along the deep of life. The sort of person you show yourself to be to the one in misfortune, is the sort of person you will prepare your fellow-voyagers to be toward you. But let us all attain to the harbor of rest, making our way through the navigation of life ^B under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. May we be granted the practice of the commandments, and the rudder of love; and by these, being brought to a straight course, may we reach the land of promise, in which is that great city whose architect and builder is our God, to whom be glory and power for ages of ages. Amen.

OF THE SAME GREGORY ON THE TEXT: "BUT THE ONE WHO COMMITS FORNICATON, SINS AGAINST HIS OWN BODY."

^A The trumpet of the apostolic command is terrible; testifying to much else for the army of piety, but most especially driving those who have fallen from ^B the chasms of disgrace...

^A in this area, adding in addition the military precept: “Flee,” he says, “fornication. Every sin, whatsoever a man does, is outside the body.” 1 For the soldiers of sensible wars, now indeed engaging in battle with opposing fronts, now employing flight, arrange their ranks. There is also a war of the soul, which is conducted prudently both by resisting and by fleeing. Paul, knowing this, who leads the army through an artful method of drawing up both kinds of ranks, now indeed commands that they stand bravely to join battle: “Stand, having girded your loins in truth;” 2 now, however, he counsels flight to deceive the enemies, saying, “Flee fornication.” If the war of unbelief rushes in, it is useful to resist it. But if a guileful battle line threatens, it is beautiful against such adversaries to set ambushes.

The bow of calumny is stretched; it is useful to engage face-to-face with a lie. But when a meretricious form shoots a dart, it is honorable to turn one’s back and flee from the opposing face. For fornication directs its dart against the eyes; therefore, it is necessary to remember the commander’s precept: “Flee fornication.” For it has something more to be feared than other crimes. For other sins indeed seem to abstain from the flesh of those who commit them; and that which has been done stops only in that which takes up the action: as in robberies, the damage is only of those from whom it was snatched. In the vice of envy, it erupts only against those who are envied. In sycophancies and calumnies, if credence is given to them, only he who is aimed at by them is called into danger. Likewise in these cases, those who have done the same, the misfortune is his against whom it was done. If anyone investigates the actions of wicked deeds, he will find those indeed who do the injury gaining; but those to whom the injury is done receiving the damage ^B. Fornication, however, does not admit such a division; nor does it separate the action of the one who suffered from the one who did it, but overthrows both at once, and binds them together in a common bond of pollution. The covetous can, when they inflict damage upon another, themselves be affected by no damage. But fornicators cannot besmirch the body with disgrace, without also being themselves affected by disgrace at the same time as the one who is affected by the disgrace. ^C Those who kill, in committing murder, it is possible that they are not killed at the same time as those who are slain. But those who have defiled the flesh, together partake of the defilement ^D. Fornicators, if they have defiled the flesh, are not permitted to be clean from the defilement.

Consider, however, for me in this matter the subtlety of Paul. “Flee,” he says, “fornication.” Why? Because “every sin, whatsoever a man does, is outside the body” (that is to say, not corrupting the nature of the body, and not consisting in the ignominy of the members, and not completed in the defilement of the body, but effected outside the damage of the body which did it); “but he who fornicates, sins against his own body,”

^A not like the murderer who harms another while preserving his own body unwounded; not like the covetous man who seeks gain at the expense of another while taking care to avoid offense to his own flesh; but the fornicator is his own corrupter, and fastens upon himself the arrow of his own infamy. A thief dares to commit a crime in order to provide for his body; the fornicator, however, lies in wait for the robbery of his own flesh. The covetous man is incited to plunder by the thought of gain; but fornication is a ruinous loss to the dignity of the body. Envy constructs a path to crime and brings glory to another, but the fornicator fashions his own disgrace for himself. For what is more shameful than the carrier of the baggage of fornication? Every slavery to sin is shameful, for it dishonors the nobility of the soul; but the fornicator is a more shameful slave of sin. For assigned to draw mire from it, he gathers a heap of filth and performs an unclean work. Or is it not a terrible thing to be rolled in mud, to be chafed by baseness, and to have a body no different from a rag? For what is the difference between a rag and a fornicator? Because he is severed from the body of the Church, he is corrupted by a daily rotting, and being discarded he lies like a useless rag, and is trodden underfoot by all the demons. Within him the devil wipes off ^B his own putrefaction.

Moreover, the misery and unhappiness that fall under the perception of the fornicator’s wicked behavior are not less than that which is open and manifest. For he is to be shunned in his house, abominable in his dealings, an insult to those who approach him, a reproach to his enemies, a disgrace to his kinsmen, accursed to those who live with him, a deep melancholy to his parents, a public spectacle to his servants, a laughingstock and a tale to his neighbors; if he is eager to marry, he is rejected; as a husband, he is a man of suspicion. He is hateful to his children as a father, a contemptible counselor, an ungrateful benefactor, and even less grateful when he is the one in need; and even when dead, he labours more under a reputation for infamy. Paul, perceiving fornication to be the mother of such a multitude of evils, commands us this victorious flight, crying out: “Flee fornication.” ^C

This voice of Paul has now reminded me of the pure youth who conducted himself valiantly against the Egyptian fornication. And yet there were many things that could easily have moved the youth to be persuaded: an age susceptible to lust, the yoke of slavery, the amorous flattery of his mistress, the perpetual talk of an unchaste love, and the stealthy encouragement to lie together. “And it came to pass,” he says, “on such a day, that Joseph went into the house to do his work, and there was no one of those who were in the house within, and the mistress pulled his garments, saying, Lie with me.” Great is the dignity of temperance: it made the mistress the servant of the slave. The arrow of fornication was ignited, but it found no material to burn; rather, it was broken and dissolved upon his garment. She was saying, “Lie with me,” but temperance was calling out in return to the young man, “Watch with me”; and by his deeds he manifested his vigilance. For the intensity of his resolve did not doze off at her flatteries. His mind did not fall asleep at her incantations; rather, there was to him something more bitter than insult—

mistress, ^A when she beckoned, "Sleep with me." The devil stood ready as the pander to this adultery, and he clutched the garment together with the harlot and took part in the handles she was grabbing; but he did not know that he was wrestling with a veteran athlete of chastity, who easily stripped himself from her grasp. For, as it is written, he left his clothes in her hands, fled, and went outside. O nakedness more holy than a garment! What then is the frenzy of the Egyptian woman’s immodesty? She heaps her own evils upon Joseph. Running to her husband, she says, "You brought us a Hebrew boy to mock us; he said to your wife, who has until now kept your bed chaste: 'I will lie with you.' But when I raised my voice and cried out, he left his clothes with me and fled and went outside."

Again Joseph is slandered through his garment. ^B Formerly his brothers, having taken his tunic, slandered him wickedly through it, saying he had been devoured by a wild beast; now, having taken the tunic itself, she accuses him as a fornicator. The word of the Lord is fitting for Joseph: "They divided my garments among them, and upon my garment they cast a lie." ^C Sweet is that which is said of chastity to the army of the chaste; but to the weakness of the flesh, it is hard and laborious. O just care that God took for Joseph! He did not honor Joseph before the temptations, but showed the future through dreams, teaching that long before the time He prepared glory for the righteous; but He allowed him to be proved by temptations, stopping the ears of those who delight in reproaches and slanders. For if He had not given proof to Joseph, the slanderers would have said that these things happened by blind fortune. Joseph reigns among the Egyptians, and a youth rules over barbarians. What virtue did he show? For what virtue did he attain this? So that these things might not be said-about the righteous man, God allowed temptations to come upon him in advance, so that testimony might be given to that righteous man and the mouths of the slanderers might be sewn shut.

^D Let us then avoid the darts that come at us from a harlot’s form. Let us close our eyes to lewdness; let inordinate pleasures be mocked by us; let temperance guard the flesh; let purity inhabit our members, so that the body may thus be a habitation of the Spirit. Let us write upon it this inscription, the terrifying warning to the unchaste, crying out: "If anyone destroys the temple of God, God will destroy him." [Truly, He does not wish to be separated from us even by a little; for what is more joyful to a father than to spend time with his beloved children? But since the Word calls us to the contests of piety, it behooves us to run to the enclosures of the Church, having summoned the aids of prayer. Furthermore, I exhort your charity: preserve the ecclesiastical order, and if any tumults arise, overcome them with patience and gentleness. For it is destined that, with]

is directed to be corrected by these turmoils. Be not perturbed by rumors, be not moved by trifles, but with us, who are companions upon the way, send forth prayers to God, that, strengthened by your prayers, we may say at all times, aided by divine powers: "I can do all things in Christ, who strengthens me." To whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.]

BY THE SAME: A DISCOURSE TO THOSE WHO MOURN FOR THOSE WHO HAVE DEPARTED FROM THE PRESENT LIFE TO THE ETERNAL ONE

A DISCOURSE OF THE SAME, TEACHING THAT WE SHOULD NOT MOURN OVER THE DEATH OF THOSE WHO HAVE FALLEN ASLEEP IN THE FAITH

Those who consider the necessary order of our nature in those who depart from this life to be a calamity, and who accompany with grief and tears those who are migrating from this world to the heavenly fatherland, do not seem to ^A me to have considered the condition of this life, but rather to be affected in the same way as the majority of the common people, who, through a certain habit unworthy of a human being, love whatever is present to them as if it were a good, whatever sort of thing it may be. Yet those who, by reason and thought, are placed above the irrational nature, ought to have inclined their impulse only toward that which, by the judgment of reason, appears good and desirable, and not necessarily to choose that which, by some habit and unthinking attachment, appears pleasant and agreeable to them. Therefore, it seems good to me that, having by some device led them away from the disposition toward what is customary, I should transport them, so far as is possible, to a way of thinking that is better and more becoming to those who are endowed with reason. For in this way, the irrationality that is so eagerly pursued by the masses regarding their passions would be banished from human life. And our study of the discourse would arrive at the proposed theme ^B if, first, we examined what is truly good; then, if we were to contemplate the nature of the life we lead in the body; and, in addition to these, if we were to compare through contrast what is laid up for us by hope with our present circumstances. For in this way the contemplation would advance toward the goal of the discourse, so that the mind might be moved from the habits of the many to what is truly good. For since a certain natural affinity for the good resides in all human beings, and every choice moves toward this, proposing the goal of the good as the objective of all effort in life, for this very reason the lack of judgment concerning what is truly good is the cause of most of the sins that are habitually committed. For if the truly good were manifest to all, we would never miss that which is goodness by nature, nor would we voluntarily ^C be brought into the experience of evils,

had not things been obscured by a certain false phantasm of the good. ^A Therefore, before all else, let us understand by reason what is truly good, so that by an error concerning this, we may not at some point pursue the worse in place of the better. I say, then, that it is necessary, as if by a definition and character of the object sought, to presuppose a rule by which our apprehension of the good may become secure. What, then, is the character of true goodness? That it does not have the quality of being useful only toward some object, nor that it appear either beneficial or useless at certain times; nor that it be good for one person but not for another; but that which is good of itself according to its own nature, and for everyone, and at all times, the same—this, at least in my judgment, is the unerring and truthful character ^B of the determination of the good. For what is not good for all, nor at all times, nor in itself, apart from external circumstance, would not properly be judged to be in the nature of the good. For this reason, many of those who consider the things that exist without investigation have imagined that the good exists in the elements of the world; yet no one, upon examining them, would find any of these to be something good in itself, at all times, and for everyone. For the useful quality in each of these is mixed with an effect that is contrary to it. For example, water is life-sustaining to those nourished within it, but deadly to those who dwell on land if they should be submerged. Similarly, ^C air is beneficial to those whose nature it is to live in it, but it is found to be destructive and lethal to those whose life is in the water, should they happen to be submerged. Thus, too, fire, while providing some utility to us, is destructive to most things. And one might even find the sun itself to be neither for everyone, nor at all times, nor in all respects good for those who participate in it. For there are cases in which it becomes exceedingly harmful, when it burns beyond the proper measure, or dries up the underlying subject to an excessive degree, or frequently produces the causes of disease, or aggravates the ailment for those suffering from ophthalmia, or, through the putrefaction of fluids, generates harmful and ^D unpleasant things in the rotted moisture. Consequently, as has been said, we must regard as good, chosen from among all things, only that which is always and for all people alike seen in the nature of the good, being always such and not changing according to external circumstances. For as for other things which, by some rather irrational preconception, appear to men as good—I speak of things pertaining to the body and to external goods, such as strength and beauty and nobility of birth, riches and power and glory, and all such things—since they are self-evident to all, I think it best to pass over them in silence, lest I expend labor in vain, enumerating things that are clear in themselves. For who does not know how quickly the dignity of beauty withers away, how briefly the strength of the body is extinguished, how easily authorities change their masters, how fleeting and fragile is the splendor of glory, or how foolish and vain is the human obsession with hoarding money, by which, because of some empty and rare appearance, they think the good is situated in such base things? With these matters thus organized, we must consider the present life—I mean that which is lived through the flesh—whether it is such that, according to the char

characteristic of the good, it may be ^A properly evaluated, or whether it stands otherwise. For that which is found by the discourse concerning it will certainly guide the understanding of those who have investigated it, as to how one ought to regard the departure from here. The life of our body, therefore, is a repletion and an inanition, brought about by two means: one by meat and drink, the other by the inhalation and exhalation of air, without which the life according to the flesh has no constitution. For man ceases to live whenever the succession of these contraries no longer agitates the nature. For after this, such activity ceases altogether; nothing from without flows into those who have died, nor is anything drawn forth; but rather, when the body has been separated and dissolved into the constituent elements which composed it, the nature for the remainder remains at rest through tranquility, having let its kin and fellow-natured elements find repose, the earthy to the earth, ^B that which is proper to the air, what is suitable to the moist, and what is appropriate to the warm. For once that bulk, which was composed of heterogeneous things and was violently and constrainedly woven together, no longer endures, but every single part in us has returned to its proper home, the nature which was composed of it and held together the union of alien things by force, has its end. If any person should add to what has been said the phenomena of sleep and wakefulness to this form of life, he will not wander from the truth. For nature toils through these also, being constantly drawn toward contraries, being now dissolved by sleep, and again invigorated by wakefulness, by both of which it is prepared to be emptied and to be filled. If, therefore, repletion and inanition are the property of our life, it would be well to examine now against these properties of life the character ^C of the good that was previously proposed, so as to see whether this life is indeed the true good, or something else besides this. Now, that repletion of itself could not reasonably be judged to belong to the nature of the good is plain to all, from the fact that its contrary—I mean inanition—is also thought to be good. For among things that are naturally opposed to one another, it is not possible that the definition of the good should apply equally to the opposites; but if this be good according to its own nature, that which is opposed to it must necessarily be evil. And yet, in this case, nature derives its utility equally from each of these. Therefore, neither repletion nor inanition can possibly accept the definition of the good. Consequently, repletion is shown to be something other than the good itself. For it is not agreed by all to be desirable to everyone, or at all times, or in every form. For not only is it destructive ^D to be sated with harmful things, but even in the case of good and suitable things, to exceed the proper measure causes, for the most part, danger and destruction. And if, at a time when a state of repletion desires evacuation, some other repletion should impose a burden upon it, such a thing becomes a heap of evils, proceeding into incurable maladies. Therefore, repletion is not good for everyone or in every way, but its utility consists in relation to something, at some time, and according to quantity and quality.

^A It is evident, therefore, from what has been said, that the mark of the good does not correspond to this life which we live; from which it follows that departure from it is not a separation from any good. For that which we call truly, and properly, and primarily good, is neither repletion nor inanition—things which we have shown to be useful only at times, in relation to something, and in certain circumstances, and to which the mark of the truly good does not apply.

^B Since, therefore, the opposition between the truly good and that which is not truly good is such that there is no intermediary between these two, it is logical that for those who are being separated from that which is not the truly good, the transition should be toward that true good which is always, and for all, and altogether good; not good according to times, or in certain respects, or in some things, or for some reason, but always existing in the same way and in the same manner. Toward this, then, the human soul departs from the fleshy life, receiving a different state of life in place of the present one—a state which we, who are joined with flesh, cannot clearly behold, yet from a comparison with this present life, a certain conjecture about it can be formed.

^C For there will no longer be any concrete corporeal density, nor any concurrent equality of opposing elements, whose equal and mutual struggle preserves our constitution and health. For if any one of them exceeds or fails, nature is perturbed and afflicted with disease. That life, however, neither labors from hunger, nor indigestion, nor does it feel cold, heat, or other injuries of the air; and it is conducted where we shall be free from all these necessary labors. For we shall not be exhausted by tilling the land or by seafaring; we shall not be stained by commerce or any trade; but void of the misery of building, weaving, and all menial arts, we shall lead a tranquil and quiet life, as Paul says, not engaging in war, not fighting at sea, not locking in combat through infantry lines, not occupied with the construction of weapons, not exacting tributes, not fortifying ourselves with trenches and walls; but being most remote from all such labors and annoyances, we shall have no business ourselves, nor shall we inflict it on another. ^D For there, neither servitude, nor lordship, nor poverty, nor riches, nor splendor of lineage, or obscurity, nor the humility of private station, nor the dignity of magistrates, nor any such difference of fortune, condition, and order has a place. For that life excludes the necessity of all such things—a life which, free from matter, is in need of nothing, in which the soul’s nature is not composed of dry and moist, but of the cognition of the divine nature, and in place of this aerial spirit, we do not doubt that it enjoys that true and holy Spirit.

^A Its enjoyment does not change through the likeness of the life here, coming to be through possession and privation, being admitted and then cast away, but is always being filled, and never delimits its fullness by satiety. For intellectual delight is weightless, and it is never sated, but is always overflowing insatiably for the desires of those who partake in it. For this reason that life is blessed and uncorrupted, no longer led astray in its judgment of the good by the pleasures of the senses. What then is grievous in the matter, so that we grieve at the departure of those who are dear to us? Unless, perhaps, one considers it a grievous thing that their departure is to a life that is free from passion and untroubled—a life which admits no pains from wounds, nor fears the threat of fire, nor the wounds of iron, nor the calamities of earthquakes and shipwrecks and captivities, nor the attacks of ravening beasts, nor the stings and bites of reptiles and venomous creatures. ^B In it no one is puffed up with pride, nor trodden down in lowliness, nor turned into a beast by audacity, nor struck down by cowardice, nor does anyone swell with anger, boiling and raging in fury, nor is anyone shaken by fear, unable to withstand the impulse of one who exerts power. In it there is no concern for things like the customs of kings: what the laws are, what kind of manners those who are set over the authorities have, what the decrees are, how great the annual tax is; nor whether there has been a great downpour of rain, flooding the crops in its excess, nor whether hail has ruined the hopes of the farmers, nor whether drought has prevailed and dried up everything that grows. But it also has total immunity from the other evils of this life. For the gloom of orphanhood does not grieve that life, and the evils of widowhood have no place there; the manifold infirmities of the body are idle, as are the envies against those who are prospering, and the scorns against those who are in misfortune; and all such things are banished from that life. ^C And a certain equality of speech and equality of law, through every peaceful liberty, dwells with the populace of souls—each one having that which he has prepared for himself through his own choice of will.

If, however, something worse is prepared for anyone by some lack of counsel in place of the better, death is not responsible for such things, for one chooses what seems best according to the authority of his own volition. Why, then, do those who lament the departed complain? And yet, if those who have put off pleasure and pain together with the body were entirely cleansed of every passionate disposition, they would more justly have lamented the survivors, who are affected in the same way as those who live in a prison, whose habituation to grievous things, and companionship with darkness, has made them think that the present state is pleasant and painless. ^D And perhaps even they feel sorry for those who are cast out of the prison, in their ignorance of the brightness that awaits those who have been released from the darkness. For if they had known the spectacles that are seen under the open sky, and the beauty of the clear air, and the heavenly height, and the rays of the luminaries, and the dance of the stars, and the solar circuits, and the lunar course, and the manifold

^A beautiful species of things which the earth brings forth, if they enjoyed the pleasant sight of the sea when it is not disturbed by any blasts of wind, but is gently rippled and glitters as if beautifully painted, and the buildings, both private and public, with which magnificent and splendid cities are adorned: if, I say, those who are held in prison had known these and similar things, they would not grieve for the lot of those who have been released from custody before them, as if they had departed from some good; on the contrary, they would rather commiserate the wretched life of those unfortunates who are shut up. In the same way, those who have been freed from the prison of this life, if it were possible for them to show their compassion for the miserable by grieving and weeping, would, it seems to me, lament and weep for the one who is drawn out in the pains of this life, because they do not see those beauties which are above the world and immaterial—thrones, principalities, dominions, the hosts of angels, the assemblies of the pious, and that supreme city, the most celebrated gathering above the heaven of those who are enrolled in it. For the beauty which excels these, which He who does not lie declared is to be seen by the pure in heart, is greater than can be conceived by any hope or conjecture. And those who have departed from here deem that this is not the only thing worthy of our groaning and grief, but much more this: since the life of mortals is filled with so many troubles and miseries, they are nevertheless so affected by the custom of enduring them, that they no longer consider the delay of life as something necessary to be endured, but contend with all eagerness and desire that it should be perpetual. For the desire for lordship, and wealth, and pleasures, and whatever else is pursued for which weapons are taken up, wars are waged, slaughters occur, all voluntary miseries happen, and frauds are committed—what are these but a certain heap of calamities, which the unhappy, by their own will, zeal, and lust, add to a life that is miserable in itself? Furthermore, neither the power of weeping nor any such affection is present ^B in those who have migrated from this life; and those who are separated from flesh and blood do not stand by mass, but by mind. Therefore, it is no longer their nature to be able to be seen by our eyes or to warn mortals, so that they might desist from the false opinion they hold concerning things. Wherefore, let our mind perform their duty, and let it warn us. Let us, as far as possible, withdraw in thought and soul from the bodies themselves, and divesting ourselves of that affection with which we embrace the flesh, let us thus urge ourselves: "O man, who art a participant of nature, as Moses commanded, attend to thyself, know thyself, and consider diligently with thy soul who thou truly art, and what those things are that are seen around thee, lest at some time, looking at the things which are outside thee, thou shouldst think thou art beholding thyself. ^C Learn from the great Paul, who examined nature with precision, who says that our outward man is perishing, but the inward is being renewed; do not, therefore, when looking at the one being destroyed, think that thou art looking at thyself." There shall be

however, a time when even that shall be free from corruption, when in the regeneration the mortal and easily dissolved shall be transformed into the immortal and indissoluble. But as it is, that which appears on the outside of us flows away, falls apart, and is corrupted. We must not, therefore, look to this, just as it is not fitting to look at any other of the things that are seen. Since Paul has said this—that we are not to look at the things which are seen, for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal—we must turn our contemplation to the invisible things within us, and believe that that which escapes sensory perception is truly what we are. ^B Let us therefore, according to the proverbial saying, become judges of ourselves. For to know oneself becomes a purification from the transgressions born of ignorance. But it is not easy for one who wishes to scrutinize himself to do so, unless some insight makes possible for us that which is impossible. For just as nature has brought it about regarding the bodily eyes, that while they see all other things, they remain unable to see themselves; in the same way, the soul, while exploring all other things and busily investigating and tracking down everything outside itself, is unable to see itself. Therefore, let the soul imitate that which happens with the eyes. For they, since they do not possess by nature the power to reverse their optic energy for their own contemplation and see themselves, having viewed the form and shape of their own sphere in a mirror, behold themselves through the image. So also must the soul look back toward its own image, and whatever it may see in the character by which it has been fashioned, it should behold this as its very own. ^C But it is necessary to depart slightly from the example, in order that the meaning may be suited to the discussion. For in the case of the form in a mirror, the image is fashioned after the archetype; but in the case of the soul's character, we have understood the reverse; for the form of the soul is depicted according to the divine beauty. Therefore, when the soul looks toward its own archetype, then it beholds itself with precision. What, then, is the Divine, to which the soul has been likened? It is no body, no shape, no form, no magnitude, no counter-impression, no weight, no place, no time, nor anything else of such a kind, through which material creation is known; but with all these and suchlike things removed, one must by all means understand that what remains is something intellectual, immaterial, intangible, incorporeal, and indivisible. If therefore the character of the archetype is understood in such a way, it is ^D strictly necessary that the soul, having been fashioned according to that form, be known through the same characters; so that it, too, is immaterial, invisible, intellectual, and incorporeal. Let us consider, therefore, when human nature approaches more closely to the archetypal beauty: when we are living in the flesh, or when we have become apart from it? But it is clear to everyone that such is the case, that just as the flesh

^A, being joined to this material life, is made familiar with it, so also the soul participates in the intellectual and immaterial life when it shakes off the matter that surrounds it. What, then, is there in these things worthy of lamentation? For if it were the case that the body was the true good, we ought to be distressed at the separation from the flesh, as we would be losing that good, and together with the body, the affinity toward the good would necessarily be cast away as well. But since the good which is beyond all conception, and according to whose image we were made, is intellectual and immaterial, it would be consistent to be persuaded that when we pass through death to the immaterial, we are drawing near to that nature which is removed from all corporeal density, and that, like a mask that has been laid aside, we are taking off the fleshy covering, returning to the proper beauty in which we were originally fashioned, having been made in the image of the archetype. This thought should be a cause of joy, not of grief, to those who are told that, having fulfilled this necessary ministry, man no longer lives in foreign parts, but having rendered to each of the elements what he had borrowed from them, he has returned to his own proper and natural home, that pure and heavenly dwelling. For this body is truly a guest-house and a foreign domicile for that nature which lacks matter, a body to which the mind in this life, being necessarily joined due to its own condition, which is utterly alien to it, is in conflict. For this mutual ^B conjunction of the elements is like unto a gathering of people using various languages and customs, who, having flowed together from different nations, form a kind of violent and dissenting society, since each is drawn away by its own nature toward its proper and kindred genus. But the mind, which is not composite, but consists of a simple and homogeneous nature, lives among these like a guest and a stranger, and cannot, so to speak, harmonize with the populace of the elements. For it, by a certain necessity, being forced from multiple and corporeal particles, constrains its own nature, and is coupled from contrary genera, and becomes one.

But when the elements naturally dissent and dissolve among themselves, and each strives toward its own proper ^C and kindred genus, the sense is necessarily vexed in that dissolution of the confluence, and together with the sense the soul itself is tormented; for although it is always affected with trouble by the body itself, yet it is inclined toward it due to the necessity of habit. Wherefore the soul ceases to be vexed and tormented when it has escaped from the battle which arises from the conjunction of contrary elements. For when either the cold is overcome by the prevailing heat, or vice versa the heat is fleeing the excess of cold, or the moisture has yielded to the power of the dry, or conversely the dry itself has been dissolved by the abundance of moisture, then, the war being finished through death, the soul enjoys peace, having left the field of battle, that is, the body itself, and having stepped outside the arrayed lines, it lives according to itself, having its powers, which were afflicted by the embrace of the body [next page begins: ...]

^A recovering its strength through rest. The mind converses with those living in the body about these and similar things, emitting almost a voice, saying: "You, O men, neither know exactly where you are, nor have you yet understood where you are to depart. For the reason has not yet been able to discover the nature of the present as it is by nature, but looks only to the habit of living, not being able to know: what is the nature of the body; what is the power of the senses; what is the structure of the organic members; what is the economy of the viscera; what is the self-moving activity of the nerves; how of those things within us, one part coalesces into the nature of bone, another into the luminous radiance of the eye; how from the same food and the same drink, one part is refined into hair, another spreads out into nails at the tips of the fingers; or how the fire in the heart is always burning, carried through the arteries to the whole body; or how what is drunk, when it comes to the liver, changes both the form and the quality through some alteration, being automatically turned into blood. The knowledge of all these things has up to the present been hidden, so that we are ignorant of the life in which we live. And those who live by sense are ^B altogether unable to behold the life separated from sense; for how could anyone see through sense what is outside of sense? Therefore, as both lives are equally unknown—this one because you look only at what appears, and that one because sense cannot reach it—what has happened to you, O men, that you embrace this one as good, although it is unknown? And yet you fear and tremble at that other one as burdensome and worthy of fear, for no other reason than this alone, that you do not know what it is? And yet we do not fear many other things, both those of the things appearing to us by sense and those which are unknown. For what is the nature of the things appearing in heaven, or what is that which moves the pole in a contrary motion, or what establishes the solidity of the earth; and how does the fluid nature of waters always ^C come from the earth, and yet the earth is not exhausted; and many other such things we have neither known, nor do we judge our ignorance of them to be worthy of fear. But even that nature which surpasses every mind, the divine and blessed and incomprehensible, that it exists we believe, but in what its being consists, no one has yet been found to understand by conjecture, and yet we love the unknown with all our heart and soul and strength, though it cannot be grasped by our rational faculties. Why, then, does this irrational fear arise regarding the laborious life that awaits us after this life, since we fear it for the sole reason that we do not know, just as happens with infants who are terrified by groundless suspicions? For he who wishes to look at the truth of existing things, first comes to an examination of the matter; then he calculates what it is by nature, ^D whether it is something useful and accessible, or something burdensome and appalling. But the thing which is altogether obscure and unknown, how could any one of those who possess a mind judge it to be burdensome, the habit

^A of fearing it only as if it were some fire or the onset of a wild beast? Yet we are clearly taught throughout our life not to look always at habit, but rather to be always transferring our desires toward what is good. For life is not sustained in the fetus in the womb forever, but as long as they are in the bowels, nature makes the life in the womb pleasant and appropriate for them; nor even when they emerge do they remain forever at the breast, but only for as long as such a thing is good and appropriate for the incompleteness of their age. After this, they move on to another course of life, not persuaded by habit to remain clinging to the breast. Then, after the state of infancy, other pursuits befall the young and others those of more advanced years, man moving on ^B towards these without pain, changing his habits along with his ages.

Just as, therefore, if the fetus being nourished in the mother’s womb possessed some use of voice, it would have been indignant when it was being expelled from the bowels by birth, and would have cried out that it was suffering terrible things when torn away from its beloved way of life—which is precisely what it does do, for with its first breath at the moment of birth it lets out a cry, as if indignant and lamenting the separation from its usual life—so too it seems to me that those who grieve at the change of the present life act like those who are in the womb, in that they wish to reside forever in the narrow and dark places of this life immersed in matter. For since the labor pains of death act as a midwife for ^C humans toward another life, they themselves, when they have crossed over into that light and have drawn in that pure spirit, know by experience how much that life differs from this present one. But those who are left behind in the damp and rotting filth of this life, like fetuses in the womb and not like humans, lament the lot of him who has gone out before them from these, the straits that surround us, as if he were departing from some good thing, not knowing that, after the likeness of the child that is born, the eye is opened when it comes outside the present confinement (and one must understand the eye of the soul, by which it discerns the truth of things); and the auditory sense is opened, by which it hears ineffable ^D words, which are not allowed for a man to speak, as the Apostle says; and the mouth is opened, and it draws in the intelligible voice and the true Word, when it is mingled with the sound of those celebrating in the choir of the saints; and likewise it is deemed worthy of a divine sense of taste, by which it knows, according to the psalmody, that the Lord is good; and through the function of smell it perceives the fragrance of Christ; and it gains the tactile power, as the soul touches the truth and feels the Word itself, according to the testimony of John. If, then, these things and things like these are laid up for humans after the birth through death, what is the meaning of the mourning, and the gloom, and the sadness? Now, regarding us, the one for the things

answer us here: whether they think it better to be deceived in judging the good by bodily senses, or to behold the truth itself with the eyes of the soul? For here, if the soul does not discern the good itself, it is forced to ^A serve the judgment of another. For when the newly formed body, acting in a childish way, cannot receive the absolute power of the soul, yet the activity of the senses is born complete along with the infant, it follows that in judging the good, the senses anticipate the soul, and what appears to the senses to be good is also seen by the soul as such. Therefore, because of habits already established, the soul unthinkingly embraces as good that which sensory perception—measuring the good by color, sap, and other such frivolities—has ^B tested and approved by its own witness. But when these things are taken away after the release from the body, it is entirely necessary that what is truly good should appear to the soul, to which it is naturally kin. For the eyes will no longer be enticed toward beauty of color, as this eye no longer exists; nor will the balance of the will choose anything else of those things that delight the senses, all bodily sensation having been extinguished. But with only the intellectual activity remaining, and that too in an incorporeal manner, grasping the intelligible beauty, nature will unimpeded receive its own proper good—which is not color, nor shape, nor dimension, nor magnitude—but the one which surpasses ^C every conjectural image. Why, then, someone suffering from the misery of the present life might say, was the body made, or for what purpose was it given to us, if, as your argument shows, life separated from it is superior? We will answer this, that the gain from this is not small for those who are able to look upon the entire economy of nature. Truly blessed is that life of the angels, which requires none of the body's burden. Yet even this present life is not incomplete in that it is directed toward that one. For the present life becomes as a road leading us to what we hope for. As we see in trees: in ^D which, although the fruit has its beginning from the blossom, it progresses through the blossom itself toward becoming fruit, even if the blossom is not the fruit. And the crops themselves, which grow from seeds, do not show the ear immediately, but the shoot grows as grass first, then from this the stalk emerges as the grass decays; and thus in the top of the ear the grain is perfected. Yet the farmer does not complain about this necessary sequence and order, saying, "Why the blossom before the fruit? Or for what purpose is the grass that sprouts first from the seed, if even the blossom falls away and the grass dries up in vain, contributing nothing to human food?" For he who looks upon the wondrous craftsmanship of nature knows that the fruit could not otherwise be perfected from seeds and shoots, unless this technical sequence paved the way for its completion. For just because the grass that is first sent forth from the seeds is useless, as we do not eat it, it does not mean that what is happening is empty and superfluous. For he who needs food considers only his own utility; but nature, seeing the design of the artisan, knows the order and the sequence, and does not consider only the present utility of the grain, but makes way for the fruit through this sequence.

^A Thus, at first, a manifold root is sent forth from the sown seed, by which nourishment is drawn from the moisture. Then the grass sprouts, which covers the root, so that it might not receive injury from the air; and although it is not itself the fruit, it nevertheless provides a way in a certain manner, and brings assistance by which the fruit is perfected. For when nature thus purges the power implanted in the seed, casting off the grass as the excrement of the fruit, it then protects the root and defends it from the injuries of the air, which arise from either cold or heat. But when the seed is more firmly fortified at its base in the roots, the grass is then neglected, because the root no longer needs the covering, and all power is given over to raising up and perfecting the stalk. ^B For nature, with a certain artificial wisdom, fashions a lofty structure, by which the growing shoot is marked out in a circle by mutual layers: in which, at the beginning, the stalk must be moist and tender, and, that it might be safer, it is fortified in the middle by joints as if with bonds; but when it ascends to a suitable height, it sends forth the fruit, so that the outermost layer produces the ear from itself, which, distinguished by a rampart of beards as if by hair, covers the fruit, and is nourished in the lowest receptacles of the beards. ^C Since, therefore, the farmer is not indignant neither at the fibers of the shoots, nor at the grass, nor at the beards of the ears, which indeed all come from the seed, but perceives in each of these a certain necessary use, by which nature, proceeding artificially and casting off what is useless, perfects and completes the fruit; so too, you must not bear it with an unfair mind that our nature, pursuing necessary ways, arrives at its own proper end. But as you perceive in the example of the seeds, you must judge that what is present is altogether referred and directed to something useful and necessary, and is not that for whose sake we were born. For our Creator did not form the fetus so that we would remain in the mother’s womb; nor does He bring us forth from there so that we might linger in infancy, or in those ages which successively follow, as nature always puts on one form after another and changes the shape of the body; nor so that the body itself might be dissolved by the approach of death, but so that through these things and others of the same kind, which are like parts of that way along which we walk, we might arrive at our pristine state, that is, at the likeness of God. ^D And just as we have shown that the grass is necessary for the perfecting of the ear according to the plan of nature; and yet agriculture is not instituted for the sake of the grass itself, nor for the layers, or the beards, or the stalk, but for the sake of the fruit adapted for nourishment, for the perfection of which nature proceeds through those things: so also is the expected end of this life blessedness. But the things which now happen to the body, such as death, old age, youth, infancy, the formation of the fetus in the womb, like the grasses, and the beards, and the stalks, are as it were ways through which we strive toward the hoped-for perfection. Which you yourself forward to

if you are wise, you will neither be resentful toward these things, nor so passionately and desirously disposed as to be grieved at being separated from them, or to rush headlong toward death. ^B And if it is necessary to add this to the discourse—though it may seem outside the sequence—it is perhaps not useless [to note] that nature is always practicing death, and that death is naturally and entirely joined to life as it proceeds through time. For since life is always moving toward the future and never turns back toward the past, what else is death but that which always follows in the wake of vital action? For in the time that has passed, every vital movement and action ceases. Since, therefore, it is the property of death to be inactive and motionless, and since this always follows in the wake of vital action, it is not far from the truth to say that death is intertwined with this life. Moreover, one might find this thought confirmed for us by the truth, as experience itself testifies to the doctrine: that the human being of today is not the same as the one of yesterday according to the underlying material, but something of him is always dying, stinking, decaying, and being cast off, just as a house—I mean the structure of the body—brings forth the deathly stench of nature and commits to the earth what has already passed outside the vital power.

Therefore, according to the voice of the great Paul, we die daily, not remaining the same through all time in the same housing of the body, but becoming different from one moment to the next through addition and subtraction, ^C as we are constantly changed into a new body. What, then, is this strangeness we feel when we hear of death, when it has been demonstrated that the life we live in the flesh is nothing other than a continuous practice and study of death? Or if you speak of sleep and waking, what else do you describe but another entanglement of death with life, since sensation forsakes us in those who sleep as if we were extinguished, and again, upon waking, it reminds us of the anticipated resurrection? But this digression having led us to consider other things, we have not yet explained what we proposed. ^D Let us, then, return to the proposition, and show that the nature of the body is not useless for the hoped-for expectation of good things. For if we had remained as we were at the beginning, when the likeness of the Divine was shining within us, we would not have had any need for the tunic of skin. For the divine characteristic that appeared in us at the beginning did not consist in any property of shape or color; rather, the human being was adorned with those marks by which the beauty of God is perceived, imitating the archetypal grace through freedom from passion, blessedness, and incorruptibility. But after, through the deceit of the enemy of our life, the human being willingly inclined toward the bestial and the irrational, he had the impulse—not unwillingly—to withdraw from...

^A a worse state, and to be forcibly turned toward the better; to those who do not examine the matter deeply, this seems useful. But to the Creator of our nature, it appeared useless and unjust to inflict upon nature the damage of the greatest of all goods by means of such an arrangement. For since the human being was made like God and was blessed, being honored with free will (for to be self-governing and not subject to any authority is proper to the divine blessedness), for him to be moved toward something by necessity and by force would be a stripping away of his dignity. For if those who, by their own free will and movement of the will, have rushed toward something that is not appropriate, were to be compelled by force to desist from what they had chosen for themselves, the good which they previously possessed—namely, the honor of possessing a will equal to the divine—would be taken away from them. ^B Therefore, in order that the dignity of free will might be left to human nature, and yet the evil itself might be removed, the wisdom of God devised this plan: to allow the human being to remain in that state in which he chose to be, so that, having tasted the evils he had craved, and having learned by experience what he had exchanged for what, he might voluntarily turn back through desire toward the original blessedness, having cast off all that is passionate and irrational like some burden upon his nature—either in the present life, being purified through prayer and philosophy, or after departing from here, being refined through the furnace of purgatorial fire.

For just as if someone, being a physician and highly skilled in the science of both life-giving and poisonous things, were to advise a youth on what is necessary, but could not convince the immature one—by reason of his age and lack of judgment—to refrain from some fruit or herb that is destructive, yet, having at hand every kind of remedy, were to allow his child to partake of what is harmful, so that, affected by the distress of the disease or some pain, and having by the very experience recognized the usefulness of his father's advice, and ^C having become desirous of health, he might again, through the antidotes, lead the child back to that state of well-being from which he had fallen through the irrational desire for the poisons: so also the sweet and good Father of our nature, who knows both how we are saved and what we are saved from, made known to the human being the poison and advised him not to partake of it; but when desire for the worse had prevailed, He did not lack the good antidotes through which He might lead the human being back to the original state of well-being.

For since the human being had preferred this material pleasure to the joy of the soul, it seemed that God in a certain way permitted him to be carried along by that impulse through the garment of skins, which He clothed him with on account of his propensity toward the worse, through which the properties of the irrational nature were mixed with the human being—properties which the wisdom of Him who manages things for the better by means of their opposites had prepared as a garment for a nature gifted with reason. For the garment of skins, bearing within itself all the properties contained in the irrational nature—pleasure, and anger, and gluttony, and greed, and the like—becomes food for the human faculty of choice, ^D becoming material for either virtue or vice depending on the inclination of each person. For living through his life in this world, the human being...

if he distinguishes that which is proper to him from the irrational, and looks toward himself through a more cultured life, will make his present life a cleansing of the corruption that has been mixed into him, mastering the irrationality through reason. But if he is inclined toward the irrational impulse of the passions, having used the hide of irrational animals as an assistant for his passions, he will afterward have to deliberate in a different way concerning the better path, knowing—after his departure from the body—the difference between virtue and vice, in that he cannot partake of divinity unless the cleansing fire has purged away the filth that was mixed into the soul. ^B

These are the reasons why he made the need for the body necessary for us, through which both free will is preserved and the return to the good is not obstructed. Rather, by this periodic sequence, through the voluntary act, the inclination toward the better comes about for us: for some, indeed, from that time onward while they live here, by establishing a spiritual life in dispassion—such as we hear the patriarchs and prophets were, and those who along with them and after them, through virtue and the study of wisdom, have returned to perfection (I mean the disciples, the apostles, and the martyrs, and all who have valued a virtuous life above a life immersed in matter)—who, even if they are fewer in number than the multitude of those drifting toward the worse, nonetheless bear witness that it is possible to achieve virtue in the flesh. For others, however, who after this life purge the blemishes of matter and the propensity toward evil in the cleansing fire, and who return voluntarily through the desire for good things to the grace granted to nature in the beginning. ^C For the desire for foreign things does not perpetually cling to nature; because that which is not proper to nature, and which had no fellowship with it in the beginning, brings satiety and disgust to everyone, and only that which is akin and similar to it is left as something always to be desired and loved by it. But if by the vice of a depraved will it has somehow degenerated, then the desire for external things is born in it, in the enjoyment of which not nature itself, but the affection of nature, finds pleasure; and when that affection is driven away, the desire for external things departs as well, and that which is its own and proper to it becomes again lovable and desirable. This is that which is pure and immaterial and bodiless, which if one were to say is proper to the divinity that is above all, he will not be wrong. For just as when some sharper distillation has clouded the visual spirit to the eyes of the body, the darkness becomes more welcome because of the kinship of the thickness with the darkness, but if that which troubled the visual spirit should be exhausted by some treatment, the light becomes once again proper and suitable, being mingled with the pure and ray-like nature of the pupil; in the same way, since vice flowed into the visual faculty of the soul like some discharge through the deception of the Enemy, the mind was voluntarily inclined toward the dark life, having become familiarized with the darkness through the passion. For everyone

^A who does evil hates the light, as the divine voice declares. But when the evil has been consumed and has passed away again into non-being, nature, having repelled that which dimmed the eyes of the soul, once more looks toward the light with pleasure. It has been shown, therefore, by what has been said, that to be hostile toward the nature of the flesh is foolish. For the cause of evils does not depend upon it; since if it did, it would have the same power over all who have been allotted a bodily life.

But since those whom we mentioned lived by virtue in such a way that, while they were in the flesh, they still did not bind themselves to any vices, it is obvious from this that ^B the body is not the cause of the passions, but rather the individual will which stains itself with vices. For the body moves in a manner consistent with its own nature, and is impelled and drawn by its own instinct toward those things by which it protects and preserves its own state. For instance, it has need of food and drink, so that what is wasted away may be restored, and thus it desires food and drink. Again, the nature of the body, which is mortal, is rendered immortal through the succession of procreation: for this reason, the desire for procreation is implanted within it as is fitting. Furthermore, since our bodies are not protected by a suitable covering of hair, we have need of clothing added from without; and since we are unable to endure the force of heat, cold, and rain, we build houses and roofs for ourselves. He who prudently considers necessity, having regard for it, provides these and other things of this sort without anxiety, and sets a limit for his appetite, namely, necessary use: he therefore provides a house, clothing, marriage, and food for nature, so that it may be sustained by necessary things. But he who is a slave to pleasures opens an entrance for vices through necessary uses, and in place of food seeks delicacies; for clothing, he pursues the elegance of ornaments; for the use of houses, he cultivates the most spacious and magnificent palaces; ^C instead of the legitimate procreation of children, he looks toward unlawful and forbidden pleasures. For these reasons, avarice, effeminacy, idleness, pride, ostentation, and manifold luxury have entered into human life through wide gates. These and similar vices have sprouted forth, like certain suckers or useless branches, beyond the necessary uses of life, while the appetite oversteps the boundaries of necessity, and men do not care to be broadened by honorable pursuits. For what does silver plate, adorned with gold and gems like flowers, profit the feeding of the body? What use do robes afford, woven with gold and purple threads, and worked with varied pictures, by which battles, hunts, and other things of this sort are depicted by craftsmen upon tunics and garments? This luxury indeed always has avarice as its companion. For that they may provide themselves with the resources and power for these things, they seek the materials of their desires from avarice. But

avarice provides the matter: and this same avarice opens an entrance to infidelity; for it is, as Solomon says, a leaking jar, which those who try to fill labor in vain, and find empty. Therefore, the body does not bring about the causes of evils, but the will itself, which turns the necessary use toward absurd and useless desires. Let not the body therefore be maligned by the thoughtless; the body, by which the soul will afterwards, having been transformed by regeneration into a more divine state, be adorned, once death has purged away the superfluous and useless elements with respect to the enjoyment of the future life. For those things which are suitable for it now will not be the same ones used in the life hereafter, but our body’s constitution will be adapted and suited to the enjoyment of that life, having been disposed in a manner appropriate to the partaking of good things. ^B What do I mean by this? (For it is better to clarify the meaning with a familiar example.) A mass of iron is useful to the smith’s art, serving as an anvil for the craftsman. But when it is necessary to craft the iron into something more delicate and elaborate, then, through the care of the one who purifies the mass with fire, all the earthy and useless material is cast away—which the craftsmen of this trade call dross; and thus what was once an anvil becomes, when refined, a breastplate or some other fine piece of work, having been purified of such waste through the smelting process—which, as long as it was an anvil, was not thought of as waste for the purpose at that time. For even the dross, when mixed into the mass, contributed something to the bulk of the iron. We have already understood the example; we must now transfer to the proposed meaning the insight glimpsed in this example. What, then, is this? It is this: the nature of the body has now many dross-like qualities, which in the present life contribute to some useful end, but are altogether useless and alien to the blessedness expected hereafter. Therefore, just as with the fire and the iron, ^C where the smelting process rejects everything useless, this is accomplished for the body through death, as every superfluity is cast off through the dissolution occurring in deadness. It is, of course, evident to those who have investigated what these things are, from which the body is later purified—things which, if they were not present in this current life, would cause harm to this life. Nevertheless, for the sake of clarity, they shall be recounted by us briefly.

Let us posit, by way of illustration, that the desire which is naturally active in all is the mass, and that the dross is that toward which desire is now impelled and drawn: pleasures, wealth, ambitions, powers, angers, pride, and such like. Of all these and such things, death becomes an exact purifier; once desire is stripped and cleansed of all these, it will transfer its energy toward that which alone is to be sought, desired, and loved, not extinguishing

^A the impulses naturally inherent in us toward such things, but transforming them toward the immaterial participation in good things. For there is the love of true beauty, which never fails; there is the laudable greed for the treasures of wisdom, and the beautiful and good ambition which is perfected in the fellowship of the kingdom of God, and the noble passion of insatiability, which is never cut off from the desire for the Good by any satiety of things above. Therefore, having learned ^B that at the appropriate time the Artificer of all will transform the mass and bulk of the body into a weapon of approval—a breastplate of righteousness, as the Apostle says, and a sword of the Spirit, and a helmet of hope—and having fashioned the whole armor of God, one loves one’s own body according to the law of the Apostle, who says, "No one ever hated his own flesh." It is the purified body, however, that should be loved, not the sordid dross which is rejected and cast away. For it is true, as the divine voice says, that if our earthly ^C house of this tabernacle is destroyed, then we shall find it a building made by God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens, worthy to be the dwelling-place of God in the Spirit. And let no one describe to me the form, shape, and appearance of that unmade house according to the likeness of those characters which now appear to us and distinguish us from one another by their properties. For since not only the resurrection is proclaimed to us by the divine oracles, but also that those who are renewed through the resurrection must be changed—a fact which the divine ^D Scripture guarantees—it is absolutely necessary that what we shall be changed into remains entirely hidden and unknown, because we see no example of what is hoped for in this present life. For now, everything thick and solid has by nature a downward tendency. But then the transformation of the body will be toward an upward movement, as the Word says, that after nature has been changed in all those recalled to life through the resurrection, "We shall be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air; and thus we shall always be with the Lord." If, therefore, in those who are changed the weight does not remain in the body, but they are raised up together with the incorporeal nature, having been transposed into a more divine state, it is certainly consistent that the color, figure, outline, and the remaining properties of the body ^B are in some way divinely changed. For this reason, although we see that there is no necessity for there to appear in those who will be changed by the resurrection any such degree of difference as nature now necessarily possesses on account of the order of those who succeed one another, nevertheless we cannot explain what they will be like in that change. We do not doubt that there will be one genus for all, and that all will be the one body of Christ, and that one form will be impressed upon all, with the divine image shining equally in all. What will come to us in exchange for such properties in the change of nature is better ^C than any conjectural thought we might express. And so that we might not be entirely untrained...

^A in our discourse concerning this, we say that since there will be no use in nature for the difference between male and female, save for the procreation of children, perhaps one might take up some conjecture worthy of the promise of the blessings of God in this discourse—namely, that the generative power of nature will pass over into the service of that birth of which the great Isaiah partook when he said, "From your fear, O Lord, we have conceived, and we have travailed and brought forth, and we have made the spirit of your salvation upon the earth." For if such a birth is good and the procreation of children is a cause of salvation, as the Apostle says, he who has once acquired for himself through such a birth a multitude of blessings will never cease from begetting the spirit of salvation. But even if one should say that the character in which we are fashioned will be with us again at the resurrection, our mind is not readily disposed to assume that it must be so or otherwise. For if one were to say that the resurrection will be in the same form, the argument will fall into much difficulty, because a human being does not always remain the same to himself in ^B the form of his character, but rather, by reason of age and the passions, is transformed into one appearance after another. For the infant and the youth are fashioned in one way; the child, the man, the middle-aged, the elderly, and the old man in another. None of these stands toward the other in the same state; indeed, even he who is wasted by jaundice, and he who is swollen with dropsy, and he who is withered by consumption, and he who has become corpulent from some dyscrasia—the jaundiced, the sanguine, the phlegmatic—since each of these is formed according to the prevailing dyscrasia, it is not well to think that these remain after the resurrection, for the change will prepare everything for the more divine. Nor is it easy for us to calculate how that form will blossom forth for us, since the blessings proposed to us in hope are believed to be beyond eye, and ear, and intellect. Or perhaps ^C one would not be entirely astray if he were to say that the distinctive form of each is the specific quality of their character. For just as now the alteration in the elements within us works out the differences of characters in each person, according to the excess or deficiency of that which corresponds—as it is shaped and colored according to the property of the form—so it seems to me that the things which will then characterize the form of each will not be these elements, but rather the qualities of vice or virtue, the mixture of which one with another—in this way or that—causes the species to be characterized. This is almost exactly what happens in the present life, when the external disposition of the face indicates the disposition in the hidden parts of the soul; whence we easily recognize the one who is overcome by grief, the one who is carried away by anger, and the one who is melting in desire; and, on the contrary, the cheerful one, the one free from wrath, and the one who is adorned ^D with the dignified character of self-control.

^A Just as, therefore, in this present life, the mood of the heart becomes a kind of form, expressed in the face and eyes, by which the manner in which a person feels within is declared, so it seems to me that, once our nature has put on a more divine state, man is fashioned by his character; he is not one thing and appearing as another, but is known to be exactly what he is: the temperate person, the just, the gentle, the pure, the loving, the God-fearing. And again among these, either the one who possesses all good things, or the one adorned with but one or a few, or the one who is found to have more, or the one who is lacking in this regard but finds abundance in another. For out of these and similar qualities, which are judged according to what is better or the opposite, people are distinguished from one another into various types ^B until, as the Apostle says, the last enemy is destroyed, and wickedness is utterly removed and banished from all existence, and the God-like beauty begins to shine forth upon all, according to the pattern in which we were formed in the beginning. This is light, and purity, and immortality, and life, and truth, and things of such a kind. For it is not unfitting that the children of day and light should both be and appear as such. Of light, and purity, and immortality, no change or difference will be found in that same state; but one grace will shine forth upon all, when they have become children of light and shall shine as the sun, according to the truthful word of the Lord. And furthermore, that all will be perfected into the one, according to the promise of God the Word, holds to the same understanding: that one and the same grace will appear to all, so that each one bestows the same joy upon his neighbor. ^C Through this, each one both rejoices in seeing the beauty of the other, and rejoices in turn, with no evil distorting that form into a hideous character. This is what our mind has discussed for us regarding those who have departed from this life, interpreting their voices to us as much as possible. But let us conclude our counsel to those who dwell in squalor and mourning by using the words of the great Paul: "But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope" (I Thess. iv, 12).

If, therefore, we have learned anything worthy of study concerning those who have fallen asleep, through which the discourse has philosophized for us regarding these matters, let us no longer accept this ignoble and servile sorrow. ^D But if one must sorrow, let us choose that sorrow which is praiseworthy and virtuous. For just as one kind of pleasure is beastly and irrational, while another is pure and immaterial, so too is that which is contrary to pleasure divided between vice and virtue. There is, therefore, a kind of mourning that is called blessed, and is not to be cast aside in the cultivation and attainment of virtue, which is far different from this irrational and servile dejection. For he who is caught in the latter will afterward repent of himself, as having been moved out of his settled state when he became overcome by the passion. But the blessed mourning has a gloom that is unregretted and unashamed, for those who, through it, successfully accomplish a virtuous life.

^A For he who has truly attained to the realization of those good things from which he has fallen—by comparing this perishable and sordid life with that deathless beatitude, which he possessed before he abused his power for evil—truly he is a mourner from his soul. And by how much more his mourning increases in this life for such a condition, by so much more he hastens for himself the acquisition of the desired good things. For the realization of the loss of the good becomes a fuel for the eagerness regarding what is desired. Therefore, since there is also a saving mourning, as the discourse has indicated, listen, you who are easily carried away toward the passion of grief, that we do not forbid grief, but instead of the condemned sort, we advise the good sort. Do not, therefore, grieve with the grief of the world, which works death, as says the Apostle, but with that according to God, the end of which is the salvation of the soul. For the tear that is shed in vain and to no purpose for those who have fallen asleep perhaps becomes a cause of condemnation for him who makes bad use of what is useful. For if He who made all things in wisdom fashioned this sorrowful disposition ^B in our nature for this purpose—that it might be a purgative of the evil that has taken hold, and a provision for the participation of the hoped-for good things—then perhaps he who sheds his tear in vain and unprofitably will be censured before his own Master, according to the word of the Gospel, as a bad steward who uselessly dissipates the wealth entrusted to him. For everything that is useful for the good is wealth, counted among the precious treasures. I do not wish you, therefore, brothers, to be ignorant of those things concerning those who have fallen asleep, which we have learned—and whatever other lesson is revealed by the Holy Spirit to the more perfect among you in addition to these—so that you may not grieve as the rest who have no hope. For it belongs only to the unbelievers to limit the hopes of living to the present life, and for this reason they count death as a disaster, because what is believed by us is not hoped for by them. But we, having trusted in the great surety of the resurrection from the dead, in the Master Himself of all creation, who for this reason also died and rose, so that by the very deed He might confirm the word concerning the resurrection, have ^C beyond doubt the hope of the good things, in the presence of which grief for those who have departed will have no place. May our God and Lord Jesus Christ, who comforts the humble, comfort your hearts and strengthen you in His own love through His mercies, for to Him is the glory to the ages of the ages. Amen.

[This is the first page of the chain.]

BY THE SAME GREGORY: EXHORTATION TO REPENTANCE.

BY THE SAME: DISCOURSE ON THE BEGINNING OF THE FASTS.

BY THE SAME: ON THE CHIEF APOSTLES PETER AND PAUL.

BY THE SAME ORATION AGAINST THE MANICHAEANS

Consisting of twelve syllogisms, by which it is proven that evil is corruptible and created and non-subsistent, and that its father, the devil, is not unbegotten.

^A If any thing is evil, it must be punished; but nothing which is punished is incorruptible. Therefore, no evil is incorruptible.

Nothing corruptible is unbegotten; but evil is corruptible. Therefore, evil is not unbegotten.

Nothing is evil by essence, because evil is a quality. But no quality is an essence. Therefore, evil is not an essence.

All opposites are corruptible by one another; but those things which are unbegotten are not corruptible. Therefore, opposites are not incorruptible.

Nothing unbegotten is mutable; but the good is mutated when it is overcome by evil. Therefore, the good is not unbegotten.

That which is unbegotten has no appetite for destruction, nor can it cause destruction; but evil has an appetite for destruction. ^B Therefore, evil is not unbegotten.

The divine Scriptures testify that not only other evil ones, but the devil himself is delivered to punishments; but everything delivered to punishment is mutable; and nothing mutable is unbegotten. Therefore, none of the evils are unbegotten.

Of things which are wholly contrary to one another, there is nothing in common. So that it is of absolute necessity that, as the good exists, that which is evil does not exist.

Everyone who naturally seeks to have their own desire fulfilled and perfected, sees it insofar as they seek it naturally; but since malice is held in the desire for corruptible things, it will be destroyed. But if it is destroyed, it is not unbegotten.

If evil were unbegotten according to nature, its being evil would belong to it by nature. But no one who acts according to nature commits sin; therefore, that which is unbegotten does not sin. That which does not sin is not subject to blame; but Satan is subject to blame. Therefore, he is not unbegotten. ^C

BY THE SAME GREGORY, BISHOP OF NYSSA. ON HIS OWN ORDINATION.

^A The lot and office of preparing a spiritual banquet has devolved upon us also, although we are more suited to participate in the goods of others than to distribute our own. Indeed, I strove with every effort and exertion to be exempt from such burdensome duties on account of my poverty of speech, in accordance with a certain law of banquets. For I hear that those who have a more refined manner of living, when they prepare entertainment in turn for a common meal, are accustomed to consider anyone from the list of invited guests who may be poorer as a fellow-diner exempt from contributing a share to the common store. In this way, I too wished to be a guest at the table of the rich. But since this excellent and wealthy host of the banquet will not spare even us, but commands us also to serve, I shall act with him as follows: "Friend, lend me some of your loaves" — and by loaves I mean ^B the assistance that is brought by prayer. For what point is there, after your ears have delighted in those spiritual honeycombs, to receive a hungry and destitute discourse? And perhaps it would be better if, just as in gymnastic contests the stadium belongs to those who are strong in bodily power, while the others become spectators of those contending, so too in this spiritual stadium only those who possess the power and strength of the saints should come forth against the athletes; but if there be any one of those of whom I am one, whose hair is grey, whose strength is broken by age, and whose speech is trembling and somewhat limping, such a one should be permitted to take pleasure in watching the contest of the athletes. ^C Let us not, therefore, brethren, protract the prelude to our discourse any longer, since you have given your attention to the wondrous orations of those who spoke before us. You are already satisfied, you have already become rich; for satiety is born from sweet things—and with these the previous discourse has nurtured you. Perhaps, then, it would be a useless satiety to heap satiety upon satiety with golden words, loading down your memory as if with leaden coins; except that even an inferior material, when mixed with a better one, often contributes to the result of beauty; proof is close at hand. Do you see this roof above our heads, how beautiful

it is to behold, how the gold shines through the deftly made carvings? While it appears to be entirely golden, it is distinguished by being painted with certain multi-angled blue circles. What then was the intention of the craftsman when he added the blue color? I suspect it was so that, by the variation of colors, the gold might shine more brightly when contrasted with the other. If, therefore, the blue color mixed with gold makes its splendor shine forth more beautifully, it will not, I think, be inconvenient if a touch of this black ink is added to the brilliance of our already delivered discourses. We are still delaying you with introductory remarks, but do listen.

^B I hear of that great Moses, at the time when he was erecting the tabernacle for the Israelites, and of that Bezeleel, who had learned the wisdom of architecture from the Holy Spirit, not taught by another but self-taught, how he wished to provoke with a common emulation both the rich and the poor, selecting gold, purple, and precious stones from the rich, yet not rejecting from the poor the wood, the skins, and the goats' hair. But perhaps the mention of this history is not untimely; for I wish to set before you in common a thought that has come into my heart. By the divine Spirit, Bezeleel became wise from being unskilled; for so the history declares. Let the pneumatomachian therefore listen: he who says that the Holy Spirit is divine, whose entry signifies as if it were a footprint of the grace of wisdom in the soul, does he insult the dignity of the Spirit by the appellation of "divine"? Does he suggest that we should conceive of anything small or humble concerning Him? What, pray, is wont to be signified by this name among created things? Does he think that divinity is acquired or incidental to the Spirit? Does he attribute some duality or composition to the simple and incomposite [nature]? Perhaps it is not permissible to give credence to such opinions. But he clearly confesses that the Spirit, who is divine by nature, is so named and proclaimed. Do you see how the truth is revealed to you of its own accord? For the Christian proclamation does not know of many divine natures, since it would be absolutely necessary in that case to invent many gods as well. For it is impossible to understand many gods unless this plurality of gods is announced through a difference according to nature. ^C If, therefore, but one divine nature is believed in by all, and the Holy Spirit is divine by nature, why do you divide in your discourse that which is joined by nature? But who will grant me the power of that speech whose end was the salvation of those who heard? Peter released one voice to the Jerusalemites, and so many thousands of men were caught by that fisherman in the net of his discourse. Yet although so many and such great discourses are expended upon us by the teachers, what increase has there been among those who are saved? "That which is wanting is wanting," says one of the prophets, "that which is dying is dying; that which has strayed does not turn back; the bond of love is loosed; ^D the treasures have been plundered..."

O calamitous affair! For the magnitude of the evil and the pain compels me to groan. Love was once our possession; this was our paternal inheritance, which the Lord had stored up for us through his disciples, saying: *A new commandment I give unto you, that you love one another.* ^B This inheritance, those who followed afterwards, being heirs in order from father to father, preserved even unto our fathers; but this prodigal generation has not kept it. How have these riches of instruction perished, slipping from our hands? We suffer the want of love, and others grow wanton and boast of our goods. *I was envious of the wicked,* says the Psalmist. But I shall read the saying, changing it slightly as a parody: "I was envious of the wicked, seeing the peace of sinners." They are joined one to another, and we are divided from one another. They unite their defenses, and we dissipate our own phalanx. Having stolen our possession, the ravisher of souls has cast it away to the enemies of the truth, not to benefit them—let no one think this, for the inventor of evils cannot bestow a benefit—but to make them worse in their fellowship with evil.

But *what is it to me to judge those who are outside?* ^C says the one who spoke. But how can I bear the alienation of my brothers without tears? How did this younger brother depart, having abandoned the paternal substance? That other one described in the Gospel—even though he masks the youth of his soul with the hoariness of his body—how did he depart, fleeing from the faith into a far country? How did he himself also go off, having divided the paternal goods into two halves, when he cast down the sublime dogmas to base and swinish notions, and squandered his wealth with the heretical harlots? For heresy is a harlot, charming with pleasures as if with sorcery. ^D For if he should ever return to himself, like that one; if he should ever again desire the paternal food; if he should run back to the rich table, on which there is much supersubstantial bread, which sustains the Lord’s hired servants—for those who work in the vineyard of God on account of the hope of the promise are all God’s hired servants—what a rush there would be toward him, not of one parent, but of so many fathers coming to meet him, embracing him, receiving him with kisses! The first robe of the faith would be brought forth, which the three hundred and eighteen souls, working as a splendid weaving loom of the Church, wove together. Thence the ring on his hand, having within itself the impressed seal of the faith, the dances, the fatted calf, the music, and all other things which are commemorated in the Gospel, except for the brother’s jealousy. But why do we vainly invent dreams for ourselves? The hearts of the brothers have been hardened, and they are affected in a contrary manner; they set forward the common fathers, yet do not admit the inheritance received from them; they claim for themselves a common nobility, and alienate themselves from our kinship;

they stand opposed to our enemies, yet are hostile in spirit toward us; like a boundary line between us and the enemy, they are both and neither; they neither confess the right word, nor will they be called heretics. O, unheard-of thing! They have declared war equally against both truth and falsehood, like some rootless tree, easily swayed this way and that by contrary gusts. I heard the evangelist John speaking in metaphorical language ^A in the apocrypha to men of this kind, for it is fitting to be utterly fervent in spirit, but cold toward sin. "Would that you were," he says, "either cold or hot!" But that which is neither of these, but touches upon both, excites nausea and is fit only for vomiting. What, then, is the cause that in the times of the disciples a great multitude was added to the Church by the Lord, but now long and ornate discourses of teachers fly past without any effect?

Perhaps someone will say that at that time miracles performed through works aided the apostles, and those divine gifts lent credibility to their preaching. I, too, do not deny that the power of deeds brings a great impetus toward persuasion. But what, I ask, are we to think of what is happening now? Do you not see miracles of faith that are equal? For I count the noble achievements of our fellow-servants as my own, who are led by the same Spirit in the power of healings. Witnesses to the truth of this word are men who have come from foreign and distant ^B regions, citizens of our father Abraham, having set out from Mesopotamia; these, too, have left their land and their kindred and the whole world, looking toward heaven, departing in a certain sense from human nature, taking their stand above the passions of nature, and tasting only so much of this life as is necessary. By the better part of themselves, they keep company with the incorporeal powers in the heights, venerable in their old age, majestic in appearance, shining with gray hair, their mouths sealed in silence, not knowing how to contend with words, nor having learned to dispute or debate, and possessing such power over the spirits that they perform miracles by will alone, and the demons withdraw, not through the artifice of syllogisms, but through the power of faith, not driven into the straits of a logical ^C contradiction, but cast out into the outer darkness. Thus does the Christian know how to weave syllogisms; these are the noble achievements of our faith. Why, then, are we not persuasive, if the grace of healings abounds, if the teaching of the Word is superabundant? "But all these things that one and the same Spirit works, distributing to each one individually as He wills." Why is there no increase in those who are being saved? And let no one suspect that I consider the present grace to be small. I see the vine flourishing, thriving in its shoots, and abounding in fruit; I see the field waving with a multitude of ears of corn, the crop deep, the sheaf ^D full, the seed abundant. But what ails me? Having an insatiable nature in such things, I am overcome by the passion of the covetous.

No limit of wealth stays desire. ^A Indeed, there is an insatiable nature in such matters, and I labor under the same disease as the covetous: no limit of abundance and redundancy restrains the appetite; what is added daily provokes the appetite to more, and is converted into fuel for the desire for greater riches. I am indeed delighted by those things that are before my eyes; I am tortured by what is present; a new kind of perturbation, composed of contraries, has occupied my soul, as if pleasure were tempered with sadness. And if I turn my eyes toward you, our desire finds rest in you; but if that which is lacking returns to my memory, I have no way to lament the calamity. For men, omitting to rejoice in the Lord, and to take pleasure from the peace of the Church, argue about I know not what substances, and measure out magnitudes; they measure the Son by comparison with the Father, and whatever exceeds measure, they bestow upon the Father. Who shall say to them: That which is not "how much" is not measured; that which is incorporeal is not weighed; that which is infinite is not compared; that which is not compared admits no account of "more" or "less": since it is from the comparison of things among themselves that we gather excess. But of Him, whose end cannot be comprehended, no one can mentally attain the excess. I remember that psalm, which we were entering singing and at the same time sounding forth hymns, *Great is the Lord and great is his power, and of his wisdom there is no number* 59. ^C What is this, then? Enumerate what has been said, and you understand the mystery. *Great is the Lord*, he did not say how great the magnitude is: for it could not be possible to say how great He is: but by this very thing, that he designates it in such a way as not to circumscribe or limit it, he gradually leads the mind to recognize that it is immense. In like manner, he says, *Great is his power*: but when you hear power, understand potency. But Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God, yet of His wisdom there is no end. Isaiah interprets wisdom openly, saying, *The spirit of wisdom and understanding* 60. I have heard among the beatitudes those pronounced blessed, who thirst for the Lord: attend therefore and receive that which is perhaps not foreign to the time, that which is now observed by my mind, even if it seems in some way to depend on that in which we are engaged.

If anyone traveling at midday, while the sun with its more ardent rays is hanging ^D over his head and scorching with its flame every liquid in his body, should have his path, and the earth beneath his shoes should be rough, difficult to travel, and very arid, and then such a man should happen upon a fountain, whose streams are limpid and clear, and abundantly cooling, and flowing forth copiously: will he sit down before the water and philosophize about its nature, whence, and how, and for what cause, and inquiring into other things of that kind, which are wont to be treated by those who are occupied in such trifles—namely, that some vapor dispersed in the deep parts of the earth, and leaping forth and being compressed, becomes water, or that veins which are diffused in the cavities of the earth, if their mouths be loosened, pour forth water: or, bidding farewell to all such things, will he lean over the stream, and putting his lips to it, cure his thirst and refresh his tongue?

and slakes thirst at the flowing stream, and by bringing his lips to it, cools his tongue, satisfies his desire, and gives thanks to Him who has bestowed such a gift? Imitate, therefore, you also, the thirsty man. Say, and it is said, as it is written: “Blessed are those who thirst,” and having learned what and how great are the good things that flow from the Holy Spirit, do what the Prophet commands: ^A “Open your mouth, and draw in the Spirit;” open your mouth wide and fill it, since you have the power of the gifts. Do you wish to know how many good things pour forth from the fountain of the Spirit? The immortality of the soul, the eternity of life, the kingdom of heaven, unending joy, delight without an end. But for my part, as I behold the present things, I reckon the loss of what is missing to be small. My house is filled with good things; the treasuries are full of the gold of Arabia; and soon ^B envoys shall come from Egypt, and they shall reach out their hands to God, and the kingdoms of the earth shall sing the triumphal hymn with us, to Him who calls all men into His kingdom. To whom be glory and power unto the ages. Amen.

BY THE SAME ON THE DIVINITY OF THE SON AND THE SPIRIT A discourse, including a eulogy for the righteous Abraham.

Just as those who are fond of watching blossoming meadows are affected—those whose ^C eyes do not fix upon any single object among those displayed before them, because of the equal beauty of their appearance, but, being poured out in their desires upon all things alike, wishing not to miss anything, they often fall short of the whole—so too has my [soul] been affected.

as it looks toward the meadow of Scripture. For the diversity of the beauty of the thoughts draws the soul equally toward everything, and makes its desire unsteady, because it is unable to easily find what is preferable among things that are equally honorable. Behold, for instance, how the flowers of prophecy shine forth through the great David; and what sort of flower the divine Apostle is, signifying the beauty of the cultivation of Paradise, and breathing forth much of the fragrance of Christ! And as for the beauty of the Gospel meadows, what human speech could explain it? ^B But it seems appropriate to me at this time to make mention of that proverbial praise, and to emulate the bee. For Scripture says that while she is weak in strength (for she was never seen gathering the whole flower and carrying it upon her back to her hives), yet she takes up the fine and dusty pollen found in the midst of the flower—shaken off by her wings—with her curved legs, and by these she effects that wise work, raising up an equal number of angles to the six-sided frame, and through the center, with the smoothness of her wings, like some sort of polish, she smoothes those thin and membranous ^C walls. And if our discourse is to be conducive to health for kings and private citizens alike, as Solomon says, let us, both I and you, pray to draw that grace to ourselves. For the gain is common, or rather, the larger portion of it is yours, since to receive something good brings more profit than to provide it. The Gospel forbids the pouring of new wine into old wineskins; perhaps this riddle looks toward the present time. For wine that is freshly pressed, on account of the warmth that naturally exists in the liquid, is full of breath, and through this natural movement, it exhales and rejects the muddy dregs from itself through the foam. Now this is nothing else, in my opinion, than the doctrine which is handed down concerning the Holy Spirit, as the Apostle says, "fervent in Spirit"; which rotten and leaking wineskins, worn out by unbelief, do not contain, but are rather burst assunder by the majesty of the doctrine. Therefore, if any sublime thought from this doctrine happens to enter them, they are split by the magnitude of the doctrine; and they themselves are rendered useless by the rupture, and they cause the grace of the Spirit to flow out in ^D vain and to no purpose. For "wisdom will not enter into a malicious soul," as Scripture says. But rather, allow me to imitate the custom of the poor; for it is habitual for them, whenever they are found worthy of a rich table, shamelessly to provide for themselves food for the next day from what has been set before them. Therefore, I too, having taken up a small remnant from yesterday's magnificence, will therefrom, according to my own ability, prepare my discourse, having reserved the greater part of what was set forth today for the more perfect guests. What then was the part of yesterday's feast that was uneaten and unprocessed? The history of the Acts of the Apostles, the one at Athens...

and how the Holy Spirit was stirred up within blessed Paul, as if a certain river were flooding and constrained within the soul of the Apostle, finding no exit among the unworthy. For this reason, he enters into conflict with the Stoics and the Epicureans, and standing upon the Areopagus, taking occasion from their own institutions, he endeavors to lead them to the knowledge of God; for he takes an altar he finds there, along with its title and inscription, as the prelude to his discourse. To what purpose, then, have I recalled this reading? Because even now there are those who, like those Athenians, have leisure for nothing else but to tell or hear something new, who yesterday or just a little while ago came forth from sedentary, plebeian, and servile crafts—certain impromptu authors of theological opinions, perhaps certain servants and scoundrels run away from servile tasks, who philosophize to us magnificently about incomprehensible things. You certainly are not ignorant of whom this speech speaks. For all places in the city are filled with such people: the alleys, the turnings of the roads, the market-places, the squares: the sellers of garments, those in charge of money-changers' tables, those who sell us food. If you ask one of them about coins, he philosophizes to you ^B about the nature of the begotten and the unbegotten; and if you inquire about the price and value of bread, "The Father is greater," he says, "and the Son is subject." But if you say, "The washing is sufficient," he determines that the Son is from non-existent things. I do not know by what name one ought to call this evil—phrenitis, or madness, or some such pestilential evil that spreads among the people and produces a perversion of the mind.

For this reason, I say that the history according to the Apostle applies to these people; for the things that Scripture recounts concerning the Athenians can now be seen in these men; or rather, if one must speak the truth, the sin of these men is less worthy of pardon than their error, and they deserve less forgiveness than those did. For although those people, ^C because the error of the worship of idols had invaded the eyes of their souls like a certain blearedness, could not look directly upon the pious truth concerning all things; nevertheless, by a certain groping of their reasoning, they understood thus much, that the Divine is not entirely comprehensible, nor is the nature of the Transcendent such as human reasoning supposes it to be. Therefore, confessing that the true God is unknown, they honor the Unknown with an altar and an inscription; for that their mind was gazing toward the God who truly is, the Apostle himself testifies, while he was announcing to them that God whom they thought they were piously worshipping through the honor of the altar. How then are those who now act so foolishly not more grievous than those mentioned? They who do not allow the Divine to be above their own comprehension, but boast that they know God just as He knows Himself? How could anyone worthily lament such blindness of these miserable men, ^D who, when such a light of truth shines throughout the whole world in our life through the pious faith, are alone toward the

^A eyes dimmed? Or are you ignorant of what light I say abounds in our life? Count for me the royal luminaries, which, equal in number to the evangelical luminaries, illuminate almost the entire world in peace and piety; when God, the Maker of all things, imitates that first marvelous work of the origin of the world, who not only established the great luminary as the leader of seen things, but also joined with it the lesser luminary, which shines together, having received light from the paternal rays. Then, with such blessings set before us in common, as if goaded into madness by a plague of demons, do they shamelessly oppose the truth of the doctrines, just like those Stoics and Epicureans with whom Paul contends among the Athenians? And so that you may not think the speech proceeds by slander, let us examine the very opinions of those mentioned. The Stoics suspect the Divine to be material; these men also invent the only-begotten Son to be created. Yet you surely know what affinity exists between the created and the material. Again, to the Epicureans, it seems that no superior power presides over the constitution ^B and administration of things, but that all things are borne along rashly and by fortuitous chance, with no providence pervading affairs; and to speak more concisely and briefly of their error, their opinions look toward atheism, that is, the negation of the divine godhead. Let us see, therefore, whether those who dishonor the Son are not imitators of the Epicureans. And let no one object to the argument that Epicurus neither knows the Father nor confesses His godhead, and how, therefore, are these men equally impious as those, since they do not deny or reject the godhead of the Father? For if you wait a little and hesitate, you will find in the Anomoean another Epicurus. Let us consider the matter thus. The Apostle called the Son the "splendor of glory" and the "express image of the substance" and the "power of God" and "wisdom" and whatever things are such as these; each of which, as if in certain necessary pairings, is in no way understood by itself ^C alone and separately, but both are taken together and comprehended with one another. For splendor is absolutely the splendor of some thing, and a likeness and image is absolutely the image of some thing. Just as, therefore, splendor cannot exist from light if the illuminating cause does not exist, so the nature emitting the splendor cannot be understood by itself unless the splendor is understood simultaneously. Similarly, also, the likeness and image shows the substance, and the substance is known through the image; so also the power of God cannot exist without God, and God cannot naturally be understood without power. Therefore, whoever denies one [of these things] which are signified through this copulation, along with that power, he utterly destroys also what remains. Yet the champions of impiety say that the Son at one time was not. If, therefore, the Son was not, then certainly neither was the Father; if the splendor was not, neither was the illuminating source; if the likeness was not, ^D then certainly neither was the substance; if the power was not, the wisdom was not; but if these

^A were not, without which God is not, how was the God over all? For by these things the existence of God is established. For it is not possible to conceive of glory without splendor, nor substance without a likeness, nor one wise without wisdom, nor one powerful without power, nor a Father without a Son. Therefore, it has been demonstrated by what has been said that he who denies the Son denies the Father as well; and where neither the Son is glorified nor the Father is believed to be, there the Godhead is altogether denied; and to deny the Godhead is the mark of none other than Epicurus.

Therefore, the present dogmatizers of deception have been shown to be Epicureans, who, through the insult inflicted upon the Only-Begotten Son, ascribe superiorities to the Father, saying that the one is greater and the other lesser; that the one sends and the other is sent; and even though the foolish ones advance certain sayings of Scripture concerning this and claim that the Lord himself confesses that He was sent by the Father. But you know that He was sent; have you not heard that He who sent Him is with Him? "He who sent me," He says, "is with me" (John viii, 29); and have you not learned through what has been said that He is both sent and not separated? For He is sent on account of His love for mankind, but He is not separated because of the indivisibility of His nature. ^B

They say again that it is confessed by the Only-Begotten that the Father is greater than He, while He says: "My Father is greater than I" (John xiv, 28). Let us therefore examine, brothers, whether He lies who said: "I am in the Father, and the Father is in me" (ibid. 10). If the Father is greater than the Son, how is the greater contained in the lesser? If the Son is lesser than the Father, how is the greater filled by the lesser? For the greater is necessarily cramped within the lesser, and the lesser cannot be extended to the surpassing magnitude; so that it would be a necessity that the Son is deficient in the Father, and the Father overflows in the Son. And he who said, "I am in the Father"—whereas, if He were lesser, He ought to have said, "I am in a part of the Father"—and "the Father is in me," lies; for it would have been truer to say, if the Father were indeed greater, "A certain part of the Father is in me." But if the whole Father is in the whole Son, and the whole Son is in the whole Father, where is the "more" and where is the "less"? And what is the need to say much, when it ^C is fitting to circumscribe all their petulance and garrulity with one word? "Who, being in the form of God, deemed not that equality with God was a matter for clutching" (Philippians ii, 6). Tell me, hearing "equal," did you understand "unequal"? O new doctrine, which interprets the unequal through the equal! But perhaps it is reasonable that someone desirous of learning should seek the rationale for these things: how the Father is greater than the Son, and the Son is equal and on a par with the Father? For these things seem in some way not to accord with one another. Therefore, leaving aside the wrangling with the common herd of adversaries, I will discourse to you in a fatherly way concerning the matters proposed. I do not know all the utterances of the Gospel—insofar as they teach about the Lord—to be of equal rank, nor are they all revealed from the same ^D

^A dignity; for some declare the height of the divinity of the Son of God with the majesty of their words, while others lower and accommodate themselves to the humility of human nature. For when the Lord says: *I command thee*; and, *I will, be thou made clean*; and, *The Father is in me, and I in the Father*; and, *He that hath seen me hath seen the Father*; and, *I and the Father are one*; and, *No man knoweth the Son, but the Father*; and, *All mine are thine, and thine are mine*; and, *I am glorified in them*; and whatever things are of this kind, they indicate a power that is above all nature and authority. But when he inclines his discourse to the infirmity of our nature, it pronounces: *My soul is sorrowful*; *If it be possible, let this chalice pass from me*; *The Son can do nothing of himself*; *I have received commandment what I should say and what I should speak*; *I go to my Father and your Father, and to my God and your God*. Set among these also the tears poured out over Lazarus, and the weariness contracted from the journey, and the ^B seeking of food, and the request for water, and the course toward the fig tree, and the ignorance of the tree’s lack of fruit, and the sleep in the boat. For all these things, and whatever are such as these, do not demonstrate the dignity of the Word of God as He was in the beginning, but rather the accommodation and self-emptying of Him who humbled Himself in the form of a servant toward the weakness of our nature.

It has been said, therefore: *He that sent me is greater than I*. Let us then consider by whom this statement is uttered. How was He sent? Was it while endowed with the form of God, or having taken the form of a servant? While remaining in the fullness of the divinity, or when He had emptied Himself in the form of a servant? For I think it is entirely clear that the divine power and nature, since it is everywhere and penetrates and pervades through all things and encompasses all things, cannot rightly be said to be sent; for there is nothing empty or void outside of it ^C into which it was not previously, and into which it might arrive after it has been sent; but since it holds together and contains all things with its preserving power, it has nowhere to pass, as it is itself the fullness of the universe.

Therefore, the descent of the Son of God to our humility and infirmity, which took place by the will of the Father, is called a mission. For the migration from the immortal nature to our life does not signify a movement of the Lord from place to place, but indicates a descent from the height of glory to the humility of the flesh. He descended, therefore, and appeared not as the bare Word, but having become flesh; not the form of God in itself, but seen in the form of a servant. This, then, is He who said He could do nothing of Himself, clearly insofar as He became flesh; for inability is a mark of infirmity. For as darkness is to light, and death to life, so is infirmity opposed to power; yet Christ is the power of God and the ^D

wisdom of God: therefore, the Power is in no way lacking in capability. For if the power were infirm, what would be that which is powerful? When, therefore, the Word declares that He cannot do something, it is manifest that He is not attributing inability to the divinity of the Only-Begotten, but is bearing witness to the inability of our own infirm nature. For the flesh is infirm, as it is written: "The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." Therefore, divine Scripture speaks truthfully through both, acknowledging the greater and not denying the equal. For when the Word looks toward what is human, He confesses that He who is not seen is greater than He who was seen through the flesh; but when He leads the mind toward the divinity, this comparative opposition of greater and lesser ceases, and in its place unity is proclaimed: "I and the Father are one." ^B Things which differ in inequality cannot be one. Does our discourse satisfy you by responding, and by separating and setting apart the heretical inequality from the pious dogmas? Or do you require, as in a court of law, that the argument be confirmed by more witnesses? If so, grant me the liberty to digress briefly from the argument, by calling to mind one of the events of ancient history. Perhaps the narrative will not be beside the point. Listen to the apostolic lesson, which relates the history of Abraham in summary, where it says: "God, having promised to Abraham, because He could swear by no one greater, swore by Himself," according to what He said. ^C Since, therefore, it is likely that the details of the history are unknown to many, I will set them forth for you briefly, as best I can. God commands Abraham to leave his own kinsfolk and lands, and the patriarch was in a foreign land, persevering in the hope of the promise. The man’s steadfastness toward God is put to the test by the long delay of the things hoped for; and the promise was that Abraham should be the father of a nation. Much time had passed, and as his age had already inclined toward old age, that which is natural followed, and yet his hope was further extended; for it is reasonable and likely that in old age the powers for procreation, both his own ^D and his wife’s, had become extinct. And the history points this out without hesitation, declaring that Sarah’s monthly cycles—through which conception occurs—had ceased. And while his body, with the youthful vigor of nature spent, was bowed with age, the hope toward God in them was somehow ageless and flourishing. In this state Isaac is born to them, so that that birth might appear not as a work of nature, but as an effect of divine power. They were overjoyed, as is natural, at the gift of God; their gray hair flourished again through the child, and bountiful fountains of milk flowed for the elder in accordance with her need; she who had grown old pressed her milk-flooded breast to the child. She exulted in the miracle contrary to nature, saying: "Who would say to Abraham that..."

^A Sarah suckles a child?" Then the infant grew strong, and was running into the age of youth, and was already a boy in the flower of his prime, in the height of his beauty, a delightful spectacle to his parents, advancing in age, progressing to the height of his vigor, increasing his virtues along with the beauty of his body. How the parents were affected on his account, you yourselves, laying the matter out in your own thoughts, examine: how a father feels seeing his son playing, and applying himself to the wrestling school, to games, to studies, or to the sweetest companionships of his age-mates. In these things, a test and trial is brought to the patriarch: to which he gives more weight, the love toward God, or the inclination toward nature. I shudder as I describe the sharpness of the trial ^B and the atrocity of the danger. God speaks to him again, and calls him by name; and he follows the call readily, expecting by all means the addition of a second gift from those things he had already obtained. But what is the command? "Take for me," he says, "your son." Perhaps the word does not yet strike the heart of the father; for he interprets it in a way that suggests that He is ordering him to unite his son in marriage and hasten the marriage bed, so that the blessing upon his seed might reach its end. But let us see the addition to the word: "Take for me," He says, "your son, your beloved one, your only-begotten." See the goads of the speech, how it pierces the father's bowels; how it fans into flame the fire of nature; how it arouses the affection, calling him both beloved and only-begotten son, so that through such names the affection for him might boil over. "And when I have taken him, what shall I do? Offer him to me," He says. Do you order a priest to be ^C appointed, whom you have commanded me to offer? Not a priest, but an offering and a victim, which through sacrifice is to be entirely consumed by fire. "Offer him to me," He says, "for a sacrifice of burnt offering upon the mountain which I shall show you." How are you affected, you who hear this narrative, whoever among you are fathers and have been taught by nature the affection for children? You know fully how a father's hearing receives the slaughter of an only-begotten child. Who would not have been struck with terror at the voice? Who would not have turned away his hearing, and preferred to die at the command rather than receive the word into his heart? Would he not have argued with Him, setting up nature herself as his advocate, saying, "Why do you command these things, O Lord? Did you make me a father for this, that you might turn me into a child-killer? Did you make me taste of this sweet gift for this, that you might make me a fable to the world? Shall I slaughter the child with my own hands, and pour out to you his kindred blood? ^D And do you command these things, and delight in such sacrifices? Shall I kill the son by whom I hoped to be buried? Shall I construct such a bridal chamber for him? Shall I prepare such a joy of marriage for him? And shall I light for him not a bridal torch, but a funeral fire? Shall I then also be crowned for these things? So shall I be

^A the father of nations, I who am not even permitted to have a child? Did Abraham say any such thing, or contemplate it? Certainly not. But when he saw the purpose of the command, he looked up toward the divine love, and immediately forgot nature; and casting off the affections of nature as a kind of earthy burden, he gave himself entirely to God and to the command. And he did not tell his spouse about this, acting rightly and advantageously for himself, since he judged the female sex to be not suited for counsel. For indeed, it was not useful nor advantageous to Adam that he followed the counsel of Eve. For this reason, that Sarah might not suffer something womanish and maternal, and break the intensity and purity of Abraham’s love toward God, he took care to keep his spouse in the dark. For how many things is it likely that Sarah would have done, or lamented to him, had she known that such a thing was happening? And what misery would have overwhelmed her as she fell upon her child and clasped him in her arms, had she seen him being violently dragged to slaughter? What words would she have used? O husband, spare nature, do not become a base tale in the story of life. My only child is this, Isaac, born in travail, the only one in my arms. He is my offspring, my first and my last. Whom shall we see at the table after him? Who will address me with that sweet voice? Who will call me mother? Who will care for my old age? Who will shroud me after death? Who will heap up earth upon my body? You see the flower of a youth; even if one saw him in an enemy, he would surely pity his prime. This is the fruit of long prayer, this is the branch of the succession, this is the remnant of the line, this is the staff of old age. If you draw the sword against him, grant this favor to me, miserable as I am: use the sword on me first, and then do what seems best for him. Let our burial mound be common to both, let the common dust cover our bodies, let a common monument tell of the suffering; may the eye of Sarah not see either Abraham killing his son, or Isaac being killed by paternal hands. ^B Such words, and words like these, Sarah certainly would have said to Abraham, had she perceived what was coming to pass. But so that no obstacle might arise to the undertaking, he loaded the wood upon the ass, and taking some of the servants with him, he was entirely given over to the divine will. Then, leaving the servants behind—lest they, thinking something more cowardly and servile, prevent the sacrifice of the lad—he takes only his son, who was already sufficiently strengthened by age to undertake heavier tasks. For, transferring the burden from the ass to the lad, he ordered him to carry the load of wood upon his shoulders. Again, the voice of the lad wounds the father’s heart; this is another trial, no milder than the former. Isaac calls to his father with that sweet voice and says, Father. And he is not choked by tears, ^C as one who considered that a little later he would no longer hear such a voice, nor does he groan in prayer, nor does he [produce] a lamentable and

tearful utterance, but with a settled, immovable soul, he receives the child's voice and sends forth his own. For he says to him, "What is it, my son?" Here, consider with me the intelligence and the prudent moderation of the youth at the same time: how, upon thinking himself neglected by his father, he brings it to his memory without any offense of mind, neither upbraiding his father with madness nor forgetfulness, but under the pretext of wishing to learn, as it were, he reminds him of the oversight. "For behold," he says, "the wood, the fire, the knife; but where is the victim?" And he, whether to encourage the boy or as a prophet guaranteeing what was to come, says, "God will provide for himself a lamb for a burnt offering, my son." And upon these things, the trial and examination of the patriarch's soul was ^B still extended. He reaches the place previously shown to him, he builds the altar to God, the boy laid the wood for his father; the pyre was being prepared, and yet the work is not forbidden, lest any of the fainter-hearted might say that if the trial had happened to stop and cease up to that point, he himself would not have remained the same, if he had drawn closer to the danger.

After these things, the father touches the son, and nature does not oppose what is being done: the son gives himself to his father, to be handled as he wills. Which of those two should I admire more: this one, who, on account of his love for God, laid hands upon his son, or the one who obeyed and followed his father even unto death? They strive against one another; the one raising ^C himself above nature, and the other judging it to be heavier and more atrocious than death to oppose and resist his father. Then, the father first binds the son with chains. I have often seen an image of this pitiable event in a painting, and I have not passed by the sight without tears, the art of painting so clearly and evidently placing the finished deed before the eyes. Isaac falls before his father near the altar itself, resting on bent knees, with his hands drawn backward; whilst he, having stepped behind the curve of his knees with his feet, and drawing the hair of the boy toward himself with his left hand, leans over the face of the one looking up at him miserably, and directs his right hand, armed with the sword, toward the slaughter; and already the point of the sword was touching the body, and then at last a voice ^D is sent to him from God, prohibiting the deed. And the voice was of such a kind. For with difficulty, just as if we were to bring back to the straight path a certain obstinate and untamed young horse, which, having turned aside from the straight road and having capered about sideways in many circles and windings, we brought our discourse back to the straight way. For this was our purpose: to show that the Apostle bears witness to the argument that the Father is not greater than the Son. For here, since the Scripture had placed an angel before the discourse of God, it adds the voice: "For the angel of the Lord called him and said, 'Because you have done this word, and have not spared your beloved son, I have sworn by myself,'" to do those things which it is possible to learn even in the promise of the Word. Who then is the one who spoke to Abraham? Could it be the Father? But you would not say it of an angel...

^A Therefore, the only-begotten God was he of whom the prophet speaks, saying, “His name is called the Angel of great counsel.” Paul, who was initiated into the unspeakable mysteries in paradise, is by no means unaware that this adjured promise comes from the Only-begotten. Paul says that God, the Word of God, when promising to Abraham, since he had no one greater by whom to swear, swore by himself. ^B How then do these people say that the Father is greater than the Son, when Paul says that he has nothing greater?

But let us return again to that new evangelical wine, so that, having ourselves received the fervor of the Spirit through instruction, we may become suitable vessels and receptacles for such wine, neither bursting ourselves, nor pouring out the grace hidden and stored within us. I heard the writer of the Psalms prophesying and predicting, as I believe, concerning present evils; for he says regarding sinners: “Sinners are alienated from the womb, they have gone astray from the belly.” By “womb” I believe the Church is meant, of those who are born according to God; for she, carrying those ^C who are brought to perfection in her within her own bosom, brings them to the light through faith. But sinners, like abortions of births, have been alienated from the womb, and have strayed from the true and genuine belly; for I do not see the deserters of the faith in the maternal bosom, and I say that the prophecy speaks of these, those who have been led astray through deceit, that “they have gone astray from the belly; they have gone astray by speaking lies.” “Their fury is,” he says, “according to the likeness of the serpent,” not simply “of a serpent,” lest they might relate this comparison to that beast; but the addition of the article ^D points by enigmas to the archetypal evil. But perhaps our mention of the serpent is not ill-timed, for the refutation of those who speak rashly and inconsiderately against the Spirit. For because they think they have this strong handle against the Spirit—that the Spirit is not called God by Holy Scripture (as they themselves think; for we do not agree with them)—and they say that divinity is indicative of nature, and because this name is not applied to the Spirit, they conclude that the Spirit is not of the same nature as the Father and the Son; let them take the serpent as the accuser of their foolish blasphemy. For just as we say that the divine nature either does not have a name indicative of itself, or does not have one for us; but if anything is said, whether from human custom or from Holy Scripture, it is one of the things that are signified about it; yet the divine nature itself remains unspeakable and unutterable, transcending all significance by means of sound. I think it is appropriate to set before you that part of Scripture where the serpent went to Eve, showing that the name of divinity has the meaning of a viewing activity. For, advising them to touch the things from

^A which they were forbidden, it promises that as a reward for them: "Your eyes shall be opened, and you shall be as gods." You see that it testifies to the name of divinity as having the meaning of a viewing activity. For it is impossible for anything to be seen unless the eyes are opened. Therefore, this appellation of divinity does not signify the nature, but the faculty of seeing. Do they not then confess that the Holy Spirit sees? Or will they contend regarding this as well? For if indeed He sees, He is named altogether from the activity; but if they desire to be taught this also by argument and discourse, although it is indeed superfluous to dwell on things that are already admitted, nevertheless, let us add this discourse with lenity of mind for those who are ignorant. Who discovered the sacrilege of Ananias? ^B How did Peter know that Ananias himself had become a thief of his own property, a sacrilege which he had committed alone with his wife in secret? Was not the Holy Spirit in Peter, while Satan was present with Ananias? For this reason Peter says: "Why did Satan fill your heart to lie to the Holy Spirit? You have not lied to men, but to God." Just as, therefore, he who says that someone who insults a rational animal insults a human being, does not direct the insult to two separate subjects, but the reference is made to one person who is recognized by different attributes; so too Peter, when he had said that Ananias had lied both to the Holy Spirit and to God, demonstrates the same thing to those who understand piously through two terms. But may we also become ^C clear-sighted seekers of the truth through the gift of the Holy Spirit, and partakers of divinity, through Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory and power for ever and ever. Amen.

BY THE SAME ON THE DAY OF LIGHTS, On which our Lord was baptized.

Now I recognize my flock; today I see the usual guise of the Church, when, having set aside the busyness of carnal cares, with a full and proper gathering you have run together for the worship of God; and the people render the house narrow as they penetrate and press into the inner, sacred shrines, and as many as are not admitted by those who are within fill the outer space in the vestibules, after the manner of bees. For some of the bees are busy with the work inside, while others buzz around the hive outside. Do so, therefore, my children, and never abandon this zeal. For I confess to being affected by a pastoral longing, and I wish, sitting upon this high watchtower, to look out upon the flock gathered all around the foot of the peak; and when this befalls me, I am filled with wonderful alacrity of spirit, and I undertake the sermon gladly, even as shepherds do with their rustic songs. ^B But when the situation is otherwise, and you are occupied with the external error of the gentiles, as you did not long ago—indeed, on the past Sunday—I am struck with great distress, and I keep silence, and I plan to flee from here, and I seek the Carmel of the prophet Elijah, or some uninhabited rock. For to those who are afflicted with sadness of spirit, flight from society and the seeking of solitude is somehow agreeable. But now, seeing you with your very families and kin celebrating the assembly in throngs, I am reminded of the prophetic oracle which Isaiah proclaimed from afar, foretelling the Church’s fertility in offspring. "Who are these," he says, "that fly as clouds, and as doves with their nestlings, to me?" (Isa. LX, 8). Moreover, in addition to these, he adds that other saying: "The place is too narrow for me; make room for me that I may dwell" (Isa. XLIX, 20). ^C For this is the power of the Spirit, which prophesied concerning the populous Church of God, which in later times was to fill the whole wide world from one end of the earth to the other. Time, therefore, comes along, bringing and circling back with the remembrance of the holy mysteries, those which cleanse man, and wash away from the soul and the body the sin that is hard to scrub off; and it leads back towards

the beauty that was from the beginning, which the master-craftsman God fashioned within us. And for this reason, ^A you initiated people, who have experienced the good things of our faith, assemble! And bring along also those who are still inexperienced, acting like kind fathers, guiding the uninitiated by study and presentation toward the perfect apprehension of piety. I, for my part, rejoice with both: with those who have been initiated, because you have been enriched with a great gift; and with the uninitiated, because you hope for a fair expectation: remission of debts, the loosening of bonds, reconciliation with God, bold confidence in return for servile humility, and equality of honor with the angels. For these things, and whatever is consistent with them, the grace of the bath guarantees and bestows upon us. ^B Therefore, putting aside other Scriptural subjects for other times, let us remain with the theme before us, offering gifts as we are able, suitable and appropriate for the feast; for to each festival its own thing is pleasing. Thus, we honor weddings with epithalamic songs; to mourning, we bring the customary funeral lamentations; when occupied with serious business, we speak accordingly; at banquets, we loosen the tension and strain of the soul, keeping each sort of time pure from the confusion and disturbance of alien matters.

For Christ has been born, as it was but a few days ago, He who was born before all nature, both sensible and intelligible. He is baptized today by John, in order that He might cleanse the defiled, ^C bring down the Spirit from above, and exalt man to the heavens; so that he who had fallen might be raised, and he who cast him down might be put to shame. And do not marvel if our affairs were of such great concern to God, that He even provided for and performed the salvation of man by Himself. For with the anxiety of the evildoer we were plotted against, but with the care of the Creator we are saved. And that wicked and envious one, when he introduced sin against our race, obtained the serpent as a covering worthy of his own counsel—the impure one, insinuating himself into what was like him, ^D the earthly and subterranean one dwelling in the reptile by his own will and desire. But Christ, correcting that one’s wickedness and improbity, assumes the perfect man, and saves man, and becomes the type and figure for all of us, so that He might sanctify the first fruits of every action, and leave to His servants the zeal for tradition without ambiguity. Baptism, therefore, is the cleansing of sins, the remission of offenses, the cause of renovation and regeneration. But understand regeneration as that which is perceived by thought, not seen by the eyes. For we shall not in truth, in the way that Hebrew Nicodemus said—and had understood in a crasser manner—change the old man into a child; nor shall we transform the wrinkled and gray-haired into someone tender and young, or bring man back again into his mother’s womb; but rather, we bring back him who is marked with the stains of sins and grown old in evil habits, by kingly grace, to the innocence of the infant. For as the child’s arrow-straightness [...]

^A of birth is free from accusations and punishments, so also the child of regeneration has nothing to answer for, having been released from liabilities by a kingly gift. But it is not the water that grants this benefit (for it would then be higher than all creation), but the command of God and the visit of the Spirit, which comes mystically to our freedom. Water only serves to indicate the purification. For since we are accustomed to wash the body that has been defiled by filth and mud with water to make it appear clean, for this reason we also take it up in the mystical act, signifying by the thing that falls under the senses the incorporeal brightness. Or rather, if it seems good, let us also pursue the investigation concerning the laver more subtly, starting as if from a fountain from the Scriptural command: "Unless one," He says, "is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." Why both, and why was not the Spirit alone deemed sufficient for the completion of baptism? Man is composite, and not simple, as we know precisely; and for this reason, medicines related and similar to the cure were assigned ^B to the whole and its parts: for the body, which is apparent, water, which falls under the senses; but for the soul, which evades vision, the Spirit, which is unseen, called by faith, and arriving in an ineffable manner. For "The Spirit blows where it wills, and you hear His voice, but you do not know whence He comes and whither He goes." It blesses the body being baptized, and the water that baptizes. Therefore do not despise the divine laver, nor treat it as common on account of the use of water. For that which works is great, and from it wonderful effects come to pass. For even this holy altar at which we stand is a stone common by nature, in no way differing from the other slabs from which our walls are built and our floors are adorned. But since it has been consecrated to the service of God and has received the blessing, it is a holy table, an immaculate altar, no longer touched by everyone, but only by the priests, and by these with reverence. The bread again is bread for a time common; but when the mystery makes it a sacrifice, it is called and becomes the Body of Christ. Thus the mystical oil, thus the wine: being things of little value before the blessing, after the sanctification which proceeds from the Spirit, each of them ^C works excellently.

The same power of the Word also makes the priest august and honorable, separated from the commonality of the multitude by the newness of the blessing. For yesterday and the day before he was one of the many and of the people, and suddenly he is shown to be a leader, a president, a teacher of piety, and a mystagogue of hidden mysteries; and he does these things without having changed anything in body or in form, but remaining in appearance the same as he was, while by some invisible ^D power and grace his soul has been transformed for the better. And so, on many matters...

^A directing your mind, you will see as contemptible the things that appear, but great the things that are accomplished by them; and especially when you gather examples of argument akin and similar to the subject of your inquiry from ancient history. The rod of Moses was [a branch] of a nut or hazel tree. And what was it else but common wood, which any hand cuts and carries, and fashions and adapts to whatever purpose is seen fit, and hands over to the fire at will? But when God willed to accomplish through it those high and transcendent miracles, the wood was changed into a serpent. And again, in another place, when it struck the waters, at one time it made the water into blood, at another it brought forth an infinite brood of frogs. And again, it divided the sea, which was parted down to the lowest depths and did not flow together. Similarly, the mantle of one of the prophets, being a skin of a goat, made Elisha famous throughout the whole world. But the wood of the cross is saving to all men, even though it is a part, as I hear, of a common tree, and more contemptible than many others. And the bush of the bramble showed the divine appearances to Moses; and the relics of Elisha raised up a dead man; and clay enlightened the man blind from his mother’s womb. And all these things, though they be inanimate matter and devoid of sense, after they had received the power of God, served as mediators for great miracles. And by a similar sequence of reasoning, water, when it is nothing else than water, with heavenly grace blessing it, renews man unto that intelligible ^B regeneration. But if anyone, by doubting and hesitating, should offer me trouble, constantly asking and inquiring how water regenerates by the initiation performed through it, I shall say to him, most justly: Show me the mode of birth according to the flesh, and I will explain to you the power of regeneration which takes place according to the soul. You may perhaps say, as though providing some reason: The seed is the cause that produces a man. Hear then, in turn, from us, how water, when blessed, cleanses and illuminates man. But if you object against me again, "How?", I shall cry out against you more vehemently: How does a moist and formless substance become a man? And so, the argument proceeding through all of creation will be exercised on every thing: how the heaven? how the earth? how the sea? how particular things? ^C For everywhere the reason of men, being perplexed and hesitating in search, flees to this syllable, as those who cannot walk flee to a chair. And to sum up the matter in few words, everywhere the power and energy of God is incomprehensible and beyond technical explanation, creating easily whatever He wills, but hiding from us the detailed knowledge of the operation. Wherefore also the blessed David, when he had once applied his mind and understanding to the magnificence of the creation, and his soul was filled with a perplexity of wonder, uttered that which is sung by all: "How magnified are thy works, O Lord! In wisdom hast thou made them all." For he perceived the wisdom, but he did not find the craft of the wisdom. ^D

^A Let us, therefore, omit inquiring into and scrutinizing those things which surpass human strength, and let us rather seek that which even suggests a partial comprehension: For what reason is there purification by water? And for what need are the three immersions adopted? What the Fathers have taught, and what our own mind, giving its assent, has received, is this: We recognize four elements from which the world has its constitution, known to all, even if their names be passed over in silence. But if, for the sake of those who are simpler, it is necessary to state their names: they are fire and air, earth and water. Our God and Savior, therefore, fulfilling the economy for us, underwent the fourth of these, which is the earth, that from thence He might raise up life. But we, receiving baptism in imitation of our Lord, Teacher, and Guide, are not buried in the earth (for this becomes the covering of the body that has completely died, shielding the weakness and corruption of our nature), but coming to the element related to the earth, the water, we hide ourselves in it, as the Savior did in the earth; and having done this three times, we depict for ourselves the grace of the resurrection accomplished in three days. And we do these things not taking up the mystery in silence, but with the names of the three holy hypostases invoked upon us—those in whom we have believed, in whom we also hope, and from whom it comes about for us both to be now, and to be again in the future.

^B Perhaps you are provoked, you who boldly fight against the glory of the Spirit and begrudge the Paraclete the veneration with which the pious honor Him. But cease conflicting with me, and oppose yourself, if you can, to the words of the Lord, which legislated the invocation of baptism for men. And what is the mandate of the Master? "Baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." ^C How "in the name of the Father"? Because He is the beginning of all things. How "in the Son"? Because He is the Creator of the creation. How "in the Holy Spirit"? Because He has the power to render all things complete. We therefore submit ourselves to the Father, that we may be sanctified; we submit ourselves also to the Son, that this same thing may happen; we submit ourselves to the Holy Spirit, that we may become that which He also is and is called. There is no difference in sanctification, as if the Father sanctified more, the Son less, and the Holy Spirit less than both. Why, then, do you cut up and divide the three hypostases into different natures, and work to create three gods unlike one another, while receiving one and the same grace from all?

^D Since, moreover, comparisons always render discourse more vivid for those who hear it, I desire to instruct the mind of those who speak evil with an image, clarifying great things—and those not perceived by the senses—by means of earthly and humble ones. For if misfortune has befallen you

^A you, so that you were a captive among the enemy; if you were enslaved and afflicted, and with groaning longed for the ancient liberty which you once possessed; and suddenly three acquaintances and fellow citizens, having arrived in the region of your masters and tyrants, redeemed you from the pressing necessity by giving an equal price, and having divided equally among themselves the expenditure of the money—would you not, having received such a grace, look upon the three in the same way as benefactors, and would you not offer the compensation of the price in equal parts, since the effort for you was shared, and the expense was shared, if indeed you were a just appraiser of the benefit? And these things are so far as it was suitable to demonstrate the matter by examples; for it is not our purpose now to deliver the doctrine of the true faith. But let us run back to the present time and the proposed argument. For I find that not only after ^B the cross did the Gospels preach the grace of baptism, but even before the incarnation of the Lord, the Old Scripture everywhere prefigured the image of our regeneration, not showing the form openly and clearly, but by riddles and coverings foreshadowing the philanthropy of God. And as the lamb was preached beforehand and the cross was prophesied, so also baptism was indicated both in words and in the deed itself. Let us recall to those who love beautiful things the types; for the time of the feast demands the remembrance as necessary. Hagar, the handmaid of Abraham, concerning whom Paul also, speaking to the Galatians, makes allegorical mention, having been sent away from the house of her master on account of the anger of Sarah (for a handmaid suspected on account of the master is a troublesome thing to lawful wives), was carried as one deserted and destitute to a desert land, having with her the nursing infant, Ishmael. And when she was reduced to a lack of necessary things, she herself was near to death, and the child before her (for the water in the skin had been consumed; since it was not even possible for the Synagogue, ^C which formerly resided in the types of the perennial fountain, to have sufficiency of life), an angel appears out of the unexpected, and shows her a well of living water; and having drawn from there, she saves Ishmael. Behold, therefore, the mystical type: how from the very beginning, through living water, salvation came to the one who was perishing, water which was not there before, but was given as a gift through an angel. And in later times, it was necessary for Isaac to be joined in marriage, on account of whom Ishmael, together with his mother, had been driven from the fatherly hearth. But the servant of Abraham, sent as a marriage broker and counselor of the nuptials, so that he might bring a bride to his master, finds Rebecca at the well. And the marriage, which was to effect the lineage of Christ, received its beginning and first covenant at the water. Moreover, Isaac himself, when he was in charge of the flocks, was everywhere in the wilderness digging ^D wells, which the foreigners were blocking up and filling in—as a type of those who in later times, being impious, hindered and stopped up the grace of baptism, struggling against the truth. But nevertheless, the martyrs and the priests, by digging, prevailed, and all the world...

was flooded by the gift of baptism. By the same power of the Word, Jacob making haste toward his betrothal, unexpectedly met Rachel at the well. A great stone lay upon the well, which a multitude of shepherds meeting together would roll away; and then they would draw water for themselves and their sheep. But Jacob alone rolls away the stone, and gives the sheep of his betrothed to drink. The event is, I think, an enigma and a shadow of what is to come. For who is the stone laid upon it, if not Christ Himself? Of whom Isaiah says: "And I will lay in the foundations of Sion a stone that is precious, honorable, elect." And Daniel likewise: "A stone was cut without hands," that is, Christ was born without a man. For as it is new, unheard of, and unusual for a stone to be cut from a rock without a stonecutter and stonemason's tools, so it surpasses every miracle that a birth should be seen from a virgin unwed. ^B

The stone, therefore, which was laid upon the well is the intelligible Christ, hiding in the depth and mystery the laver of regeneration, which for a long time still required revelation, like a long rope. But no one rolled away the stone except Israel, which is "the mind that sees God." Moreover, he draws the water and gives drink to the sheep of Rachel, that is, having revealed the mystery that was hidden, he gives vital water to the flock of the Church. Add to this the affair of the three rods of Jacob. For from the time that the three rods were placed by the spring, from that time Laban, that man bound by the superstition of many gods, became poor; but Jacob began to grow rich and to abound in lambs. But let Laban be allegorically referred to the devil, and Jacob to Christ. For after baptism, Christ took away the entire flock of Satan, and He Himself grew rich. And Moses, that great man, being a fair and suckling babe, having fallen under the common and grim decree which the hardened Pharaoh had issued against the male infants, was exposed by the banks of the river, not naked, but placed in a chest. For it was necessary that the law be typically and allegorically in an ark. And he was placed near the water. For the law is a neighbor to grace; and the daily sprinklings of the Hebrews, which a little later were to be covered by the perfect and wonderful baptism. And as it seems to the divine Paul, the people themselves, having crossed the Red Sea, heralded the salvation that comes from water. The people passed over, and the Egyptian king with the army was drowned, and this mystery was prophesied through these deeds. ^C For even now, when the people are in the water of regeneration, fleeing from Egypt—that is, wicked sin—they themselves are freed and saved, but the devil with his own ministers (I mean the spirits of wickedness) is suffocated by his grief and perishes, for the salvation of men is his own calamity. ^D

And even these things would be sufficient for us for the confirmation of the proposed treatise. Nevertheless, matters following must not be neglected by the lover of beauty. For the Jewish people, after suffering many hardships, as we have been taught, and having completed the laborious and troublesome circuit of the desert, did not receive the land of promise before they crossed over the Jordan, while Jesus led and governed their life. And that Jesus, by depositing the twelve stones in the stream, was preparing and predestining the twelve disciples, the ministers of baptism, is manifest. And that wondrous and transcendent priestly act ^B of the aged Thesbite, what else does it signify in deed than faith in the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, and redemption? For since the entire Jewish people, having trampled upon the piety of their fathers, had fallen into the polytheistic error, and King Ahab was being mocked by the cult of idols, having the ill-famed and accursed Jezebel as an evil companion of his life and a most polluted teacher of impiety: the prophet, filled with spiritual grace and having come to an encounter with Ahab, with the king and all the people as witnesses, stood against the priests of Baal for a wondrous and extraordinary contest. And by proposing to them to sacrifice the ox without fire, he showed them to be ridiculous and miserable, praying and crying in vain to gods that do not exist. Finally, having called upon his own and true God, he brought the proposed contest to completion with many great and added wonders. For he did not simply pray and bring down fire from heaven upon the dry wood, but, having exhorted and commanded the ministers to bring much water, and having ^C poured the jars over the split wood three times, he ignited the fire through prayer from the water, so that from the natural opposition of the elements, having gathered beyond expectation and belief into harmony and mutual cooperation, he might demonstrate with great abundance and excess of nature the power of his own God. In this way, then, Elias clearly foretold to us the institution and initiation of baptism that was to be performed in the future through that wondrous sacrifice. For by water poured on three times the fire was ignited, in order that it might be signified that where there is mystical water, there also is the life-giving, burning, fiery Spirit, which burns the impious and enlightens the faithful. Furthermore, his disciple Elisha also, when Naaman the Syrian had come to him as a suppliant, suffering from the disease of leprosy, purified the sick man by ^D washing him in the Jordan; and by the general use of water and the peculiar immersion of that river, he clearly foreshadowed what was to come. For the Jordan alone of all rivers, having received into itself the firstfruits of sanctification and blessing, as if from a certain source of its own pattern, poured forth to the whole world the gift of baptism, as if

^A by a stream and aqueduct. And these things are indeed signs designated by actual work and event, which come to pass through the laver of regeneration. Let us observe, however, next, the prophecies produced by words and voices. Isaiah, then, cries out, saying: "Wash yourselves, become clean; remove the wickednesses from your souls." And David: "Draw near to him, and be enlightened, and your faces shall not be ashamed." Ezechiel, writing more clearly and brightly than the two, promises the good pledge: "And I will sprinkle upon you clean water, and you shall be purged from all your uncleannesses, and from all your idols I will cleanse you; and I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will give you; and I will take away the heart of stone from your flesh, and I will give you a heart of flesh; and I will put my spirit in you." And most vividly does Zacharias also prophesy of Jesus, clothed in the filthy garment—that is to say, our servile flesh—and, stripping him of the dismal clothing, He adorns him with a pure and shining stole, teaching us by this figurative example that in the baptism of Jesus we all, stripping off our sins as if it were a beggar’s tunic, vile and sewn from many rags, clothe ourselves in the sacred and most beautiful garment of regeneration. Where, then, shall we place that saying of Isaiah too, which cries out to the desert: "Rejoice, thirsty desert; let the desert exult, and let it blossom as the lily; and the desert places of the Jordan ^B shall blossom and exult." For it is manifest that it does not announce joy to inanimate and senseless places, but by the "desert" it signifies, tropically and allegorically, the arid and unadorned soul. Just as David does also, when he says: "My soul is to you as a land without water." And again: "My soul has thirsted for the strong, living God." And again, the Lord says in the Gospels: "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me, and drink." And to the Samaritan woman: "Everyone who drinks from this water will thirst again; but whoever drinks from the water that I shall give him will never thirst for eternity." And the honor of Carmel is given also to the soul that has a likeness to the desert: this is the gift which comes to pass through the Spirit. For since Elias inhabited Carmel (and the mountain became famous and renowned on account of the virtue of its inhabitant), while John the Baptist, shining in the spirit of Elias, sanctified the Jordan, for this reason the Prophet foretold that the honor of Carmel would be given to that river. And he transferred the glory of Libanus as well, from the parable of the high trees, to the river. For just as that Libanus has, in the very trees it produces and nourishes, a sufficiently great cause for admiration, so the Jordan is celebrated because it regenerates men and plants them in the garden of God, of whom—according to the voice of the psalm—always flowering and as if covered in leaves by their virtues, the leaf shall not fall away, but the fruit ^C being garnered in due time, God

^A will rejoice, as a good husbandman exulting in his own works. The divine David also, prophesying the voice which the Father sent from heaven upon the Son as He was being baptized, in order to lead hearers toward the natural dignity of the Godhead—they who previously looked toward that human vileness which fell under sense—inscribed that saying in his book of Psalms: “The voice of the Lord is upon the waters, the voice of the Lord is in majesty.” But let this be the end of bringing forward testimonies from the divine Scripture; for the discourse would proceed to infinite length if one wished to select all things individually and consign them to a single book.

But everyone among you who takes pleasure in the gift of regeneration, and possesses the saving renewal as a boast, show me, after the mystical grace, the change of your manners, and indicate the difference of your transformation for the better through the purity of your manner of life. For nothing of those things which fall under the eyes is changed; the marks of the body likewise remain intact, and the configuration of the visible nature is not altered. But there is need by all means of some evident demonstration, ^B by which we might recognize the newly born man, distinguishing the new from the old by certain manifest signs. These signs, I consider, are the movements of the soul which occur according to purpose, through which it separates itself from the old habit and, entering upon a new path of manner of life, will clearly teach its acquaintances that it has become someone else from what it was, leaving behind no trace or sign of the old wickedness.

And this is the mode of transformation, if you, believing my discourse, keep it as a law: The man before baptism was protervous, avaricious, and a defrauder, a plunderer of others' goods, a railer and a slanderer, a liar, a false accuser, and whatever vice is similar and akin to these. Let him now be modest, sober, content with his own, and from these things sharing with those struggling in poverty, a lover of truth, respectful of honor to others, kind and affable; to say it in summary, practicing every action worthy of praise. For as darkness is dispersed upon the arrival of the light, and the black is blotted out when whiteness is painted over it, so also the old man, adorned with the works of righteousness, is blotted out. You see how also Zacchaeus, by the change of his manner of life, killed the publican, returning fourfold restoration to those who had been harmed by his injustice; and he distributed to the poor the remainder, which he had previously gathered ^C evilly from the afflicted poor. The Evangelist Matthew, another ^D publican, making the same gain and practicing the same art as Zacchaeus, immediately after his calling changed his manner of life as if it were a mask. Paul was a persecutor, but after the grace an Apostle, bearing heavy chains for Christ unto repentance and the purgation of the unjust bonds which, having once received from the Law, he had carried against the Gospels. It is fitting for regeneration to be such; so it is proper to blot out the habit toward sin; so it is proper for the sons of God to conduct their lives; for we are called children of Him after the grace. And for this reason it is proper to behold precisely the characteristics of our Father in order that, conforming and fashioning themselves to the likeness of the Father, with a genuine...

so that by forming and shaping ^A ourselves after the likeness of the Father, we may appear as genuine children of Him who called us to an adoption which comes through grace. For a bastard and a supposititious child is a base reproach, belying the nobility of the father by his deeds. Wherefore it seems to me that the Lord Himself also, when laying down for us the rules of life in the Gospels, used those words to those being taught: "Do well to those who hate you, pray for those who despitefully use you and persecute you, so that you may become sons of your Father who is in heaven, because He makes His sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust." For He says that we become sons then, when we imprint upon our own thoughts the likeness of the paternal goodness by showing humanity ^B toward those of our own kin.

For this reason, even after the dignity of adoption, the devil plots against us more vehemently, pining with an envious eye when he beholds the beauty of the newborn man hastening toward the heavenly commonwealth, from which he himself has fallen; and he stirs up fiery temptations against us, eager to strip away the second adornment, just as he did the former one. But whenever we perceive his assaults, it is proper to apply to ourselves the apostolic word: "As many of us as were baptized into Christ, were baptized into His death." But if we have become conformed to His death, then sin is henceforth utterly dead in us, having been pierced by the spear of baptism, ^C just as that fornicator was by Phinehas the zealot, who burned with zeal and love for God. Flee, therefore, from us, thou cursed and ill-omened one; for thou seekest to despoil one who is dead, who formerly pledged himself to thee, who long ago lost his senses to pleasures. The dead man does not love bodies; the dead man is not caught by riches; the dead man does not slander; the dead man does not lie, does not seize what does not belong to him, does not rail at those he meets. My life has been regulated according to another life; I have been taught to despise worldly things, to pass by earthly things, and to hasten to the heavenly, just as Paul also openly testifies, that the world is crucified to him, and he to the world. ^D These are the steps of a soul truly reborn; these are the utterances of the newborn man, who remembers his own covenant, which he made with God in the tradition of the mystery, promising to despise every punishment and pleasure for the sake of his love for Him.

These things, then, are sufficient for the sacred theme of the day, which the revolving year has brought to us in its appointed periods. But it is good, henceforth, to bring the discourse to rest in the Lover of mankind who bestowed such a gift, offering a small voice as compensation for great things. For You truly exist, O Master, as a pure and ever-flowing fountain of goodness, You who, after having turned away from us in justice,

^A and have shown mercy out of love for mankind. You hated, and were reconciled; You cursed, and You blessed; You drove out from paradise, and again You called back; You stripped us of the fig leaves, that unsightly covering, and clothed us in a precious garment; You opened the prison and set the condemned free; You sprinkled with pure water and cleansed us from filth. No longer, when called by You, will Adam be ashamed, nor will he cover himself, convicted by his conscience, hiding under the thicket of paradise. Nor indeed will the flaming sword surround paradise, making the entrance inaccessible to those who draw near; but everything has been transformed into joy for us who are the heirs of sin; and paradise, and heaven itself, lie open to man. Creation, both mundane and supramundane, which formerly was at variance with itself, has come into friendship and is reconciled; ^B and we men have become in harmony with the angels, honoring the same theology as they. For all these things, then, let us sing the hymn of joy to God, which a mouth possessed by the Spirit once prophetically proclaimed in a loud voice: *My soul shall exult in the Lord, for He has clothed me with a garment of salvation, and has put around me a tunic of gladness; as a bridegroom, He has placed a miter upon me, and as a bride, He has adorned me with an ornament.* The Adorner of the bride, indeed, is Christ, who is, and was before, and is to come, blessed now and forever. Amen.

BY THE SAME ON HOLY PASCHA AND THE THREE-DAY FESTIVAL OF THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST: FIVE ORATIONS

[The translators of which were: for the first, Petrus Fr. Zinus; for the second, third, and fourth, Laurentius Sifanus; for the fifth, Federicus Morellus.]

^C

ORATION I

If any blessing of the patriarchs was confirmed by the divine Spirit, if any reward for life is promised to those who establish their conduct according to virtue in the Law, if the enigmas of the ancient histories have pointed toward any truth, if the oracles of the prophets have foretold any good that is above nature, all those things are contained in today’s gift. In which, indeed, for us, as if we ^D

^A had a spectacle set before our eyes, a light gleams forth, catching the gaze, which is gathered from myriads of torches; thus, all the blessing of Christ, shining of itself like a torch, produces for us this great light, which is tempered together from many and various rays of Scripture. For it is possible to take from each of the divinely inspired proofs that which is fitting for the present holy feast. Do you seek the blessing of Abraham? You have what you seek, by looking at what is present. Do you see the stars of heaven—these, I say, the stars that have recently risen for us from the Father and have suddenly made the Church a heaven, ^B by whose flashing grace of the soul the rays of the torches are signified? And if someone were to say that these are truly the children of Abraham born to him by promise, those who are likened to the stars of heaven, he will not err from the truth. And do you admire the exalted Moses, who comprehended all the creation of God by the power of knowledge? Behold for you the blessed Sabbath of the first creation of the world. Recognize through that Sabbath this Sabbath, the day of rest which God blessed above other days. For on this day the Only-Begotten God truly rested from all His works, having kept the Sabbath in the flesh through the dispensation concerning death; and having returned again to what He was, through the resurrection He raised up with Himself all that was lying fallen, becoming life, and resurrection, and dawn, and day for those sitting in darkness and in the ^C shadow of death. Indeed, the history is full of the related blessing: the father of Isaac not sparing that beloved one, and the Only-Begotten becoming oblation and sacrifice, and a lamb being slaughtered in his stead. For it is possible to see in the history the whole mystery of piety. The lamb was hanging from the wood, held by its horns; but the Only-Begotten carried upon Himself the wood of the whole burnt offering. You see, He who carries all things by the word of His power, He Himself also carries the load of our wood, and is lifted up upon the wood, carrying as God, and being carried as a lamb; thus the Holy Spirit divided the great mystery typically between both—both to the beloved Son and to the sheep shown simultaneously—so that there might be demonstrated in the sheep the mystery ^D of death, and in the Only-Begotten, life, which is not broken by death. And if you wish also to take Moses himself, tracing out the cross by the stretching forth of his hands, and how by this figure Amalek was overthrown, it is possible for you to see in truth the type, and Amalek submitting to the cross. You have also Isaiah, who contributes to you no small grace regarding the present one. For from him you were taught beforehand of the unwedded mother, the flesh without a father, the painless labor, the undefiled birth; as the Prophet said thus: Behold, the virgin shall conceive in the womb, and shall bear a son; and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which means, God with us. And that the birth existed without pain, the very fairness of the matter will teach you. For since every pleasure has pain joined to it, it is necessary that in things that so

^A clearly appear, if the one is not present, neither does the other exist. Where, therefore, the pleasure of birth did not lead the way, neither did pain follow. Furthermore, the word of the Prophet also confirms the account, which runs as follows: *Before the pain of her labor came, she escaped, and brought forth a male child.* Or, as another of the interpreters says, *Before she felt labor pains, she brought forth.* Of this Virgin mother, he says, *A child is born to us, and a son is given to us, whose government was upon his shoulder, the Angel of the great counsel, God the mighty, the powerful, the Prince of peace, the Father of the age to come.* This child, this Son, ^B *was led as a sheep to the slaughter, and as a lamb before his shearer he was dumb.* Or rather, as Jeremiah says, *This is the lamb, the innocent one, which is led to be sacrificed.* This is the bread into which they cast the wood, they who are the enemies of both the bread and the wood. But rather, let us take that which is better known and clearer than all from the Prophet, by which the mystery is clearly set forth—I mean the example of Jonah, who went down into the whale without harm, and rose up from the whale without suffering, and who, having remained in the belly of the whale for three days and as many nights, prefigured the Lord’s sojourn among the dead. These things, and things like these, you must search out and select from every part of Scripture. For you see all those former things through the lens of the present; and in the current joy, as we read in the Gospel, ^C *the whole law and the prophets hang,* as the Gospel says somewhere; and all divinely inspired Scripture and law are recapitulated in this grace, according to the voice of Paul. For this is both the end of evil things and the beginning of good things. What kind of thing do I mean? *Death reigned from Adam,* having taken the beginning of its pestiferous empire, and its tyrannical dominion persisted even until Moses, with the law in no way dulling the evil power of death. The kingdom of life came, and the power of death was dissolved. And another generation has come to be, another life, another manner of living, a transformation of our very nature. What generation is this? That which *is not of blood, nor of the will of man, nor of the will of the flesh, but of God.* How, you will ask, can this be? Hear, for I shall explain it in a few words. This fetus is conceived ^D through faith; it is brought into the light through the regeneration of baptism; its nurse is the Church; it sucks its doctrine and institutions as though they were breasts; its food is the bread from above; its completion of age is the sublime life; its marriage is the companionship of wisdom; its children are hopes; its house is the kingdom; its inheritance and wealth are the delicacies of paradise; and its end is not death, but that life which is prepared for the worthy, most blessed and eternal. Seeing this beginning of the transformation into something better, the great Zacharias hesitates about what name to give it, and how he ought properly to call the present grace. For, seeing those things which…

^A pertain to the torture and death he had discoursed upon, he says this regarding that time: "Neither day," he says, "nor night." By these words he indicates that it cannot be called day, since the sun is not present, nor night, since there is no darkness, for God called the darkness night, as Moses says. Consequently, since by time there is night, but by light there is day, for this reason the Prophet says: "And not day, and not night." If, therefore, this time is neither night nor day, according to the Prophet's word, then the present grace is necessarily something else besides these, and is so named. Do you wish me to say what I have conceived? This is the day which the Lord has made; this is a different day than those that were at the beginning. For in this day God makes a new heaven and a new earth, as the Prophet says. What heaven? The firmament of the faith in Christ. What earth? I mean the good heart, as the Lord said, the earth that drinks the rain coming upon it and brings forth the multi-folded ear of corn. In this creation, the sun is the pure life; the stars are the virtues; the air is the transparent manner of life; the sea is the depth of the riches of wisdom and knowledge; the herbs and sprouts are the good teaching and the divine doctrines, which the people of the pasture, that is, the flock of God, graze upon; and the trees bearing fruit are the observance of the commandments. In this day the true ^B man is created, he who was made in the image and likeness of God. Does not this beginning become a world for you, "This is the day which the Lord has made," concerning which the prophet Zacharias says that it is neither a day like other days, nor a night like other nights? And thus did the Word proclaim the excellence of the present grace. This broke the pains of death. This brought forth the firstborn of the dead. In this the iron gates of death were smashed. In this the bronze bars of Hades were broken to pieces. Now the prison of death is opened. Now release is proclaimed to the captives. Now sight is given to the blind. Now the "dayspring from on high" visits those who sat in darkness and the shadow of death. Do you wish to understand something also about the three-day limit? Let us be content to have said this much: that such a brief interval of time was enough for the omnipotent wisdom, while dwelling in the heart of the earth, to render foolish that great mind which resided therein. For thus the Prophet names him, calling him a great mind and an Assyrian. Since, therefore, the heart ^C is a sort of dwelling-place of the mind (for in it the ruling principle of the soul is believed to be), for this reason the Lord stays in the heart of the earth, where the heavenly dwelling of that mind is, in order to make his counsel foolish, as the Prophet says, and "to take the wise in their craftiness" and to turn their wise attempts to the contrary. For since it was impossible for the prince of darkness

to approach the pure presence of the light without perceiving some portion of flesh in Himself, for this reason, ^A when He saw the God-bearing flesh, and beheld the miracles of the Godhead being wrought through it, he hoped that if he could overcome the flesh through death, he would also overcome all the power that was in it. And for this reason, as he gaped at the bait of the flesh, he was pierced by the hook of the Godhead, and thus the dragon was led by the hook, as Job says, who foretold what was to come through him, saying, "You shall draw out the dragon with a hook."

Let us hear from the voice of the Prophet what these counsels were that this heart of the earth formed against the whole, when it opened its jaws against the flesh of the Lord. What does Isaiah say to him, refuting his thoughts? "You said in your heart: I will ascend into heaven, I will set my throne above the stars of heaven (I will sit on a lofty mountain above the clouds), and I will be like the Most High." These things the wicked heart plotted against itself. And even before these, what the great mind in malice, the wicked Assyrian, uttered to himself, let us again hear from the voice of Isaiah. He said: "By the strength of my hand I will do it, and by the wisdom of my understanding I will remove the boundaries of nations, and I will plunder their strength, and I will shake the inhabited cities, and I will take hold of the whole world like a nest, and as eggs that have been left I will take them up, and there is no one who shall escape me or speak against me." ^B By this hope, he received into himself the One who, through philanthropy, dwelt on earth among us. But what happened to him instead of what he hoped for, the prophecy clearly signifies, declaring his calamity, saying: "How has Lucifer, who rose in the morning, fallen from heaven? How has he been broken unto the earth? Corruption is spread under him, and his garment is a covering of worms," and whatever else is detailed regarding his destruction, which it is permitted for anyone who wishes to learn with precision from the scriptures of the Prophet. But I must return the discourse to my proposed goal.

For this reason, the true wisdom enters into this arrogant heart of the earth, that it might utterly destroy from it that great mind in malice, and that the darkness might be illuminated, ^C and that the mortal might be swallowed up by life, and that evil might depart into non-existence, once the last enemy, which is death, has been abolished. These things have been accomplished for you in the prescribed space of three days. Does this grace seem slow? Has such a great good been brought to pass after too long an interval? Do you wish to recognize the preeminent power by which these things were accomplished in such a short space of time? Enumerate for me all the ages of men that have existed from the very first origin of evils until their destruction, how many men there were in each age, and how many thousands of men there were in all the ages. The number of the multitude cannot be reckoned ^D through whom malice was, in a sense, propagated by a kind of inheritance, so that the riches of wicked depravity, distributed among individuals, grew through the zeal and labor of each, and thus...

spreading through the multitude to infinity, ^A until, having arrived at the height of evil, it took possession of the entire human nature. Thus the Prophet pronounced universally, saying: *All have gone aside, they have together become unprofitable*; and there was nothing among existing things that was not an instrument of wickedness. Therefore, this huge heap of evil, gathered together from the foundation of the world until the economy of the Lord’s passion—did He who dissolved and overthrew it in three days give you a small demonstration of His surpassing power? Or rather, did it not appear more powerful than all the wonder-workers celebrated in historical records? For just as we admire the deed of Samson the more, not only because he mastered the lion, but because he overcame it without labor and, as if in sport, tore the beast apart with naked and unarmed hands ^B—so the power of the Lord excelled in this: that He wiped out such great wickedness without any exertion. For there were no opening of the cataracts above, nor abysses overflowing their own bounds, flooding the earth with their surges, nor was the entire inhabited world, like a ship with its crew, swallowed up into the deep, nor were mountains rendered submarine and their summits plunged beneath the waves. Nor, as happened in the days of the Sodomites, did a rain of fire and flame cleanse and purge what was corrupt, nor did any other such thing occur; but a simple and incomprehensible journey, the mere presence of life and light to those sitting in darkness and the shadow of death, brought about the total eclipse and disappearance of both darkness and death. ^C Shall I add something else to what has been said? Evil sprouted in the serpent. The woman was deceived by the snares of the dragon. The man, after this, was defeated by the woman. In these three steps evil had its birth. Why do I focus on the memory of these? It is possible to perceive a certain order of the good through the order found in evil. I see these three receptacles of evil: first, that in which it first stood; second, that into which it flowed; third, that in which it afterwards resided. Since, therefore, wickedness overflowed in these three—namely, in the diabolical nature, in the female sex, and in the fullness of men—it was appropriate that the disease should be expelled in the space of three days, a day being allotted for the healing of each of the categories afflicted by the wickedness: in one day men are cleansed of the disease; in the second, the race of women is healed; and in the last, the final enemy, death, is brought to naught, ^D and around him the principalities, and powers, and forces of the opposing powers and their rulers are also wiped out. And do not marvel if the creation of the good is distributed over intervals of time. For at the first generation of the world, though the divine power was not weak such that it could not have perfected all things in an instant, it still associated intervals of time with the creation of beings, so that, at the first day, one part of them might be constituted, and on the second, another, and thus in succession the rest, until...

^A all things were made perfect and absolute by that number of days which is written, as God brought all things to completion; so also here, by that plan of wisdom which cannot be explained by words, evil is cast out and excluded in three days from men, women, and the race of serpents, in whom the nature of vice first had its origin.

We have reflected thus upon the reason for the number of these three days: whether rightly or not, let it be for the judgment of our hearers. For we do not claim that our words possess a certain method of demonstration, but rather that we are exercising ourselves in inquiry. But if you wish to see clearly in fact the predetermined number of these days (for it lacks little, if you consider the time after the ninth hour of the Preparation, the hour at which the Lord committed His spirit into the hands of the Father), attend for a little while, and perhaps you will find what you seek. By what means, you will say? Consider the greatness of the divine power, and you will understand what you desire to know. Remember what the Lord pronounced concerning Himself, and you will recognize that it was His own power, so that by will, and not by the necessity of nature, He separates the soul from the body. "No one," He says, "takes my soul from me, but I lay it down of myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again." 30 With this established for us, that which was sought will become clearly evident.

For He who arranges all things according to His masterful authority ^C does not wait for the necessity looming from betrayal, nor the predatory rush of the Jews, nor the iniquitous sentence of Pilate, so that their malice might become the beginning and cause of the common salvation of men; but He anticipates that rush by His economy, according to an ineffable mode of priestly service, invisible to men, and He offered Himself as a host and victim for us, being at once the priest and the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world. When did He perform this? When He evidently offered His own body as food for the disciples who were gathered, to show that the sacrifice of the Lamb was already complete. For the body of a sacrificial victim is not suitable for eating if it is still animate. Wherefore, when He offered the body to be eaten and the blood to be drunk to the disciples, the body had already been sacrificed in an arcane and invisible manner, as it had pleased the power of Him who performs the mystery. And the soul was with those in whom the power of the One arranging it had placed it, together with the divine virtue that was conjoined with it, moving in that region of the heart. Therefore, if anyone begins to measure the time from that point, when the sacrifice was made to God by that great Prince of priests, who, in a manner that could be explained neither by words nor perceived by the eyes, offered Himself as a lamb for the common salvation of men, he will not depart from the truth. For it was evening when they ate that sacred and holy body; and the night which preceded the Preparation followed that evening. Then the day of the Preparation, by the intervention

of the darkness of that night, is divided into two days and one night. ^A For if God called the darkness "night," and for three hours darkness happened over the whole earth, that space established in the middle of the day was night, which, by its own sections on either side, defined two days: one indeed from the sunrise until the sixth hour, and the other from the ninth hour until the evening. So that until this point, we have two nights and two days. Then, the night before the Sabbath, and after this the day of the Sabbath; you have the three nights. Seek out for me, then, the hour of the resurrection, and you will find the truth in the things spoken of. When, therefore, was this? "Late on the Sabbath," cries Matthew. This truly is the hour of the resurrection according to the voice of the angel. This is the boundary of the Lord's sojourn in the heart of the earth. ^B For as the evening was already deep—and the beginning of that night was the evening, which the day of the Sabbath succeeds—then the earthquake happens. Then the angel, radiant in his garments, rolls away the stone from the tomb. But the women, rising early when the light of the day was already appearing and the splendor of the rising sun could be seen, then go to see the resurrection, which had already happened; and they recognized the miracle, but they were not taught the hour. For the angel said to them that He was raised, but he did not add the "when" in his speech. But the great Matthew alone of all the evangelists marked the time with precision, saying the evening of the Sabbath was the hour of the Resurrection.

If these things are in such a state, the limit stands for us, ^C from the evening after the fifth [day] until the evening of the Sabbath, as the time is measured out, with the intercalated night, as has been said, dividing the Preparation into two days and one night. For it was fitting, under Him who reigns in the authority of his aeon, that the works should not be extended by necessity to the fixed measures of time; but that the measures of time should be innovated according to the need of existing things, and, the divine power accomplishing the work of good things more quickly, the measures of time should be fashioned to be shorter; so that the time might not be counted as less than three days and as many nights. Since the mystical and secret discourse requires this number, [and] the divine power [ought] not to be hindered in the speed of its action by waiting for the ^D accustomed intervals of days and nights. For He who had the authority both to lay down His soul and to take it up again when He wished, had the authority, as the maker of the aeons, not to be a slave to time through His works, but to make time according to His works. But the discourse has not yet touched upon the greatest of the heads. For it is likely that those who are more eager for learning [will] inquire how, in the same time, the Lord gives Himself in three places: to the heart of the earth, to paradise with the thief, and to the Father’s hands. For to the Pharisees indeed, just as...

^A it is said, "As Jonas was in the whale's belly, so shall the Son of man be in the heart of the earth" for the three-day interval of time; to the thief, "Today you shall be with me in paradise"; and to the Father, "Into thy hands I commend my spirit." For one would not say that paradise is in the underworld, nor the underworld in paradise, so as to be in both places at the same time, or that these are called the Father's hands. But to those who consider these things piously, perhaps they do not even seem worthy of questioning. For He who is everywhere by divine power is present to all things and excluded by no place.

But I remember learning another reason for this, which, if it pleases you, I shall briefly explain. When the Holy Spirit came upon the Virgin and the power of the Most High overshadowed her, so that the new man might be born in her—who for this reason is called new, because he was created by God beyond human custom, so as to be a dwelling for God not made by hands; for the Most High does not dwell in things made by hands, that is, those constructed by the labor of men—then, while Wisdom was building herself a house, and the building had been established within as if by the impression of a seal by the overshadowing of the power, the divine power was mingled with both parts of which human nature consists (I mean soul and body), commingling itself equally with each. For it was necessary that, since both parts were subject to the punishment of death on account of sin (since the death of the soul is the separation from true life, and the death of the body is its corruption and dissolution), it was necessary, I say, that the communion of life should expel death from both parts.

Thus, with the divinity coupled to each part of man, evidence of the excellent nature appeared clearly in both. For the body, curing diseases by its touch, displayed the divinity; while the mind, by that powerful will, indicated the divine virtue. For just as the sense of touch is proper to the body, so the motion of the will is proper to the mind. The leper comes, already dissolved and wasted in his body. How is he cured by the Lord? The soul wills, the body ^B touches. In both ways the disease is expelled. For immediately, as it is written, the leprosy departed from him. Again, when so many thousands of people were sitting with Him in the wilderness, He did not wish to send them away fasting. Therefore, with His hands He broke the loaves.

You see how the divinity, conjoined to each part, is manifested through both, when the body acts and the soul wills? But it is not necessary that we recount all the marvelous things performed in the same way. For they are known to all. Wherefore, we shall return to that for the sake of which we are mentioning these things. The question is how the Lord was at the same time both in the underworld and in paradise. The one solution to this question is to say that there is nothing inaccessible or unapproachable to God, in whom all things consist. But ^{C D}

^A Since God, by his union with the whole human nature, had transformed it into the divine nature, at the time of the economy of the Passion, he did not withdraw from either part of that which he had once assumed (for the gifts of God are without repentance); rather, the Divinity voluntarily separated the soul from the body, while showing that it remained in both. For through the body, in which it did not admit the corruption resulting from death, he overthrew him who had the power of death; and through the soul, he prepared for the thief the entrance into paradise. Both are brought about by him, with the Divinity accomplishing the good through both: through the incorruption of the body, the dissolution of death; and through the soul, which was hastening to its own abode, the return of men into paradise. ^B Since, therefore, the composition of man is twofold, while the nature of the Divinity is simple and uniform, at the time of the separation of the body from the soul, the indivisible is not divided along with the composite, but the reverse occurs. For by the unity of the divine nature, which is equally present in both, things that were separated again grow together into one another. And thus it happens: death comes from the division of things that were joined, and the resurrection from the union of things that were divided. But if you ask how, while being in paradise, he commends himself into the hands of the Father, the sublime Isaiah will explain to you the point in question. For he spoke in the person of God concerning the Jerusalem above, which we believe to be nothing other than paradise: "I have," he says, "described thy walls upon my hands." If, therefore, Jerusalem, which is paradise, has been described upon the hands of the Father, it is clear that he who is in paradise dwells entirely in the hands of the Father, in which the divine city has its description. And of these things, let this suffice.

On the keeping of the Passover and the utility of the unleavened bread.

But because the Jews vehemently accuse our custom with strong charges, it would be appropriate to add a few words to the argument. For they say in the discourse concerning the Passover that it was ordained for the Jews by Moses to observe the fourteenth day of the lunar cycle, and the eating of unleavened bread for seven days, and to use the herb of bitter greens as a side dish for the unleavened bread. ^D "If, therefore," says the Jew, "the observance of the fourteenth day is a concern for you, let the bitter greens and the unleavened bread be kept along with it." But if these things are worth ignoring, what is the point of being so diligent about the day? For it should not be said that what was ordained by the same lawgiver is to be approved in part as just and beneficial to the soul, while another part is deemed useless and to be rejected; so that it is necessary that either everything that was commanded regarding the Passover should be accomplished by us, or that we should observe none of it. What, then, shall we say to these things? Let us remember him who commanded us not to fear the reproach of men, nor to be overcome by their disparagement. For we know the soul-beneficial observance of the unleavened bread, and the profit of the bitter herbs, or

the usefulness of the fourteenth day. And this is the argument, which we shall examine in a few words: The law, having a shadow of good things to come, looks to one primary goal, so that through the diverse commandments man might be purified of the malice that has adhered to him. This is accomplished in circumcision, this in the Sabbath, this in the observance of foods, this in the diverse sacrifice of animals, this in all the ceremonies and institutions of the law. It would be a long task to recount in detail those things which the law prescribes enigmatically, signifying the purity of the soul. Just as, therefore, through circumcision, which is performed in the spirit, nature casts off its passions, cutting away the life of the flesh, and through the Sabbath we are taught ^B rest from sins, and the slaughter of animals teaches us to slaughter our disturbances and vices, and the prohibition of unclean foods warns us to withdraw from an impure and defiled life: so also this celebration points out to you that celebration for which the soul is prepared through unleavened bread, while it is commanded to abstain from leaven for seven days. The enigma of this is as follows: The number of seven days signifies this passing time of life, which revolves through weeks. In it, one must take care, through diligence, that no remnant of yesterday’s malice is preserved in the present day, lest the mixing of old wickedness produce any bitterness or sourness in today's dough. *Do not let the sun go down upon your anger*, says the Apostle, who commands us to celebrate the feast, *not with old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth*. And what we have learned concerning one kind of malice, we must consider to be said in like manner of the remaining kinds of malice. For bitterness banishes torpor and sloth from life, and in their place introduces a strong, hard, and ^C rough manner of living, since all discipline at first seems to bring not joy, but sorrow. Therefore, he who spends the week of his whole life unmixed with old malice, and cleansed of its leaven, using temperance in his diet as a seasoning, separates himself from every dark mixture. This is what the fourteenth day of the lunar course signifies. For since the entire course of the moon is completed in twenty-nine days and a half—in which space the moon, by increasing, completes its circle, and then, by decreasing, diminishes until it entirely fails of light—it is clear that the half of the aforementioned number is fourteen days and a little more. When, therefore, proceeding in its own course during the nightly interval, it has thus filled its orb with light, so that it joins its own brightness to the splendor of the day, it follows that it does not allow any darkness to be interposed either in the evening or in the morning, by which the continuous series of light might be interrupted, since in the elements there is a perpetual [light].

For before the solar ray has exactly set, the moon appears opposite the sun according to the diameter, and shines with its own light upon what lies beneath. And again, before its cycle has entirely crossed the horizon, the dawn of the day is mingled with the remnants of the lunar light. And thus, on that day of the full moon, darkness disappears, both at dawn and in the evening, being illuminated by the alternation of the heavenly bodies. ^A What therefore happens to the sensible light on the fourteenth day—that through the entire night and day there is no admixture of darkness—that the spiritual law wishes to be a symbol for those who celebrate spiritually, so that through the entire week of our life, we might celebrate one glorious Pascha, most remote from darkness, and pass the entire span of time in the light. For this is the arrangement and observance of celebrating the Pascha among Christians. For this reason we look to the fourteenth day, so that through this sensible and material light, we might understand the light which is separated from matter and grasped by the mind alone; and while we seem to be looking for the full moon, which provides for us a light that is continuous throughout the entire night, we must not think that we are prescribing any other law for ourselves by this act, except that all the time which night and day measure out, we should spend as illuminated and brilliant with virtues, and untainted or unpolluted by any dark deeds. And concerning these things, enough.

^B But as for the thoughts contained in the cross, through which the mystery of the passion is perfected, who could easily explain them in words? For were there not countless ways leading to death, by which it was possible for the plan of the death for our sake to be fulfilled? Yet out of all, this one was chosen by Him who, with authority, determined for Himself the passion. For, He says, it is necessary that the Son of Man [must suffer]. He did not say, "The Son of Man will suffer such and such," as one might simply speak when predicting the future, but by the word "must" He declares that it is necessary and due according to a certain ineffable reason, in saying that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected and be crucified and on the third day be raised. ^C Understand for me the meaning of "must," by which it is discovered that the passion decreed could in no way come to pass other than through the cross. What then is the argument concerning this? It belongs only to the great Paul, he who was instructed by ineffable words, he who was initiated in the secret depths of paradise, to declare the mystery concerning this, just as he partially hinted at the hidden truth through his words to the Ephesians, saying: "That you may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length, the depth and height, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God." For not in vain did that divine eye of the Apostle [contemplate] the figure of the cross. ^D But on that matter...

^A he showed clearly that anyone who has cast from his eyes the scales of ignorance perceives the truth itself clearly. For he knows that this figure, marked out by the four extensions from the junction in the center, signifies the power and providence of Him who was manifested therein, which passes through all things; and for this reason he calls each extension by its own name. For he calls that which turns from the center downward "depth," and that which rises upward "sublimity," while he calls those which extend transversely on either side "breadth" and "length"—so that one side from the middle is named "breadth," and the other is called "length." By these, he seems to me to clearly signify in his discourse that there is nothing in created things ^B which the divine nature does not keep safe—neither what is above the heavens, nor what is beneath the earth, nor what extends crosswise to the very extremities of all things on every side. For by "sublimity" he signifies what is above; by "depth," what is beneath the earth; and by "length" and "breadth," the extremities between these, which are held together by the power that sustains the whole universe.

Let the proof of these things be found in what occurs within your own soul concerning your conception of God. For look up to heaven and contemplate in your mind the deep regions below; extend your thought to the sides and to the edges of the structure of the universe, and consider what power it is that binds and contains all these things like a bond of the universe. You will see that, ^C of its own accord, the conception of the divine power is inscribed upon your mind and intellect in the figure of the cross, descending from the highest parts to the depths, and extending crosswise to the limits of the ends.

This figure did great David also celebrate in words concerning himself: "Whither shall I go from thy Spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven" (this is the sublimity), "thou art there. If I descend into hell" (this is the depth), "thou art there. If I take my wings in the morning" (that is, at the rising of the sun; this is the breadth), "and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea" (for thus he names the west; this is the length). Do you see how he delineates the figure of the cross through these words? "Thou art," he says, "He who passes through all things, and the bond of things that come into being, holding all things ^D within Thyself, and grasping the ends. Thou art above, Thou art present below; in this extremity is Thy hand, and in the other Thy right hand guides."

For this reason, also, the great Apostle, when all things have been filled with faith and knowledge, says that He who is above all things is to be adored in the name of Jesus Christ, by those in heaven, and those on earth, and those under the earth; by which words he divides the adoration of Christ according to the figure of the cross. For the celestial region offers the worship of adoration at the high part of the cross, the earthly in the middle parts, and the infernal pertains to the depth. This also is what that *iota* signifies in my opinion, if it is considered joined with the apex, which is more stable than heaven, firmer than the earth, and more certain than the full constitution of all things. For heaven and earth shall pass away,

and the fashion of this whole world ^A passeth away; but the iota from the Law, and the apex, do not pass away. The vertical line, descending from above to the depth, is called an iota; but that which is led transversely on the side is called the apex, as it is possible to learn this even from those who sail. For the timber that lies transversely on the mast, upon which they spread the sail, they call the apex, naming it from the shape. Therefore, it seems to me that the divine voice of the Gospel looks to this: for that is the thing in which all things have consisted, which is more eternal than the things contained in it, and which, by its own power that preserves all things, points out through a riddle and a sort of mirror the shape of the Cross. For this very reason He says that it is necessary for the Son of Man, not simply to die, but to be crucified, so that the Cross might become for those with sharper vision a theologian, proclaiming by its shape the omnipotent authority of Him who was shown upon it, and who is all in all.

Let us not pass over, brethren, even that honorable counselor, Joseph of Arimathea, who, having received the gift of that immaculate and holy body, wraps it in a clean shroud and lays it in a clean ^B tomb. Let the deed of that honorable counselor be a law to us, so that we also may likewise take counsel, so that when we receive that gift of the Body, we do not receive it in a shroud of conscience that is soiled, nor allow it to be deposited, smelling of the bones of the dead and all uncleanness, in the tomb of the heart; but, as the Apostle says, let each one test himself, so that the grace may not become a judgment to the one who receives it unworthily.

But as I speak, I feel myself struck by the bright garment of the angel, and that sweet earthquake, which rolled away the heavy stone of the human tomb, through which the door of the resurrection is opened to all, shakes my heart with joy. Let us also run to the sight of the wondrous spectacle; for the Sabbath is already past; let us not encounter it behind the women. Let there be also in our hands the spices of faith and conscience. For in these consists the good odor of Christ. Let us no longer seek the living among the dead. For the Lord rejects and keeps away the one who seeks Him in such ^C a manner, saying, "Touch me not; but when I shall ascend to the Father, then you may touch me." [That is, when you shall have believed in Him, no longer in the bodily and servile form, but in Him who is in the glory of the Father, who is in the form of God, and the Word of God, then you shall adore me, and not the simple form of a servant.]

Let us hear the good tidings which the woman brings to us, who, having preceded the man through faith—and having done this well, so that by setting out toward the good she might make apology for the cause of the evil—arrives. What, therefore, is the Gospel of the woman? Truly not from men, nor through men, but through Jesus Christ. "Hear," she says, "what the Lord has commanded me to report to you, whom He even names His brothers. I ascend," He says, "to my Father and your Father, and my God and my God ^D your God."

^A O notable and good tidings! He who for our sake became man, though He is the Only-Begotten, in order to make us His brothers, brings Himself as man to the true Father, so that through Himself He might draw all His kindred with Him, so that it may no longer be cast in their teeth that they worshiped those who are not gods by nature. For since they have been recalled to worship the living and true God, they cannot be excluded as rejected and castaways from the paternal inheritance, because through adoption they have followed the true Son. Having made Himself, among many brothers, the firstborn of creation through the flesh, He drew to Himself the whole of human nature, of which He wished to be a partaker, by the bond of the flesh He assumed. But since the unleavened bread before the Passover has bitter herbs for a side-dish, let us see with what sweetness the bread after the resurrection is sweetened. Do you see in the hands of the Lord, as Peter is fishing, bread and a honeycomb? Consider from this into what the bitterness of life is changed. Wherefore, let us also hasten from the fishing of the words of God to that heavenly bread, which the honeycomb of hope makes sweet in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory and power, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always, and for ever and ever. Amen.

ORATION II

On the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, and that the evangelists are in no way contrary to one another, though they have recorded in different ways the things that happened at the resurrection of Emmanuel.

^C Although almost all of you, beloved, approve of the reading from the holy Gospels concerning the resurrection of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ, which was introduced by us suitably and appropriately on the night of the Lord's Day, some, however, do not deny that they have felt some benefit, but say they are troubled because they think that they have sometimes been taught more obscurely and cryptically, since the evangelists do not say the same things about the same event, but rather contrary things, which lead the listener more into disbelief. For whom should one believe? Matthew, who writes that the resurrection happened in the evening of the Sabbath? Or John, who has recorded that this same thing happened in the morning, while it was still dark? Or Luke and Mark, of whom the latter named the rising of the sun, and the former the deep dawn, as the same moment of time in which these things happened? Therefore, for the solution of the proposed doubt, and of other questions arising from the examination of these words, it is necessary to be awakened by God, who rose again, even though we are weak, and to provide a clear interpretation. For it is just that He who sowed the seed of the reading, and spread it in the ears of all, should also render an account of the questions that have arisen from it. This, indeed, I shall strive to do, and to bring the solution from the very things that those who doubted have said. For the holy writers of the Gospels did not say that the Lord rose either in the evening of the Sabbath, or when the greater part of the night had passed, or again at dawn, or after the emergence of the sun's ray; for in that case there would be a contradiction, if the one event was not recorded by the writers as having happened in one...

^A place, but rather in different times. But they wrote that the women came to the tomb at different times, and not at the same moment; for how could those who came at different times all have heard alike from the angels concerning the Savior, that "He has risen, He is not here," without the time being added? As if, on that divine night, it happened by common consent and agreement; but since no one marked the hour, it was unknown to all, except to the God who rose, and to the Father who alone knows the Son as He Himself is known by the Father—and [except] to the Spirit, who searches all things, even the depths of God. For Matthew said that Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came ^B late on the Sabbath to see the tomb; and that there was a great earthquake; and that an angel had descended from heaven, his appearance like lightning, and his garment like snow, so that by his terrible aspect he might strike the guards with fear (who, unable to bear the sight, nearly perished, becoming as dead men from terror), while by his radiant appearance he might invite the women, and impart confidence to those who were timid and fearful by nature, and might joyfully announce the resurrection through that very form. For he had been sent for these reasons as well. For having rolled aside the stone, he found that the Lord had risen, leaving the tomb closed and protected by seals, and guarded ^C by a military watch, departing in a manner befitting God, just as He later entered to the disciples when the doors were shut. Therefore he also said: "He is not here, but He has risen"; the angel indicating that the resurrection of the Savior had already occurred in a marvelous way before his own arrival, which He had accomplished as God by His own power, fulfilling the economy without needing angelic assistance. For if this were not so, he would have said, "Behold, He is rising," indicating that it was happening at that moment; but since it had preceded, he used the past tense and said: "He is not here, but He has risen."

And from this it is also shown clearly that the apostles, when preaching the Gospel, said that Christ was raised ^D by the Father because of the weakness of those hearing, thus making the message acceptable and easy to receive. But the angel, breaking forth with the voice announcing the resurrection, revealing the naked and most God-befitting authority of the One who had risen, cried out: "He is not here, but He has risen." And the fact that it is said He was raised by the Father manages, as I said, the weakness of the hearers; but it contains the same meaning, and not a different one. For in whom does the Father work? In His own power, evidently. And what is the power of the Father? No one other than Christ; for Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God. Therefore the Savior raised Himself, even if He is said to have been raised by the Father. And the phrase "late on the Sabbath" does not signify the evening that follows the setting of the sun; for neither in the singular...

did he say "late on the Sabbath," but in the plural, "late on the Sabbaths." The Hebrews are accustomed to calling the whole week "Sabbaths"; for, not to go too far, the Evangelists say "the first of the Sabbaths," when they should have said "on the first day of the week." ^A Indeed, we also use this in common custom, calling the second and third days of the week the "second of the Sabbaths" and the "third of the Sabbaths." Therefore, he did not say "late on the Sabbath" or "in the evening of the Sabbath," to signify the evening of that day, but "late on the Sabbaths," so that he might signify a later time, and one that is long past.

For sometimes we also are accustomed to say this, as for instance: "You have arrived late in time," or "late in the hour," or "late as to the need"—not signifying the evening or the time that is after the setting of the sun, but signifying that something happened later, or after the need, or late in the time that usage and necessity had demanded. ^B And just as in common parlance, "late in time" and "late in the hour" and "late in the need" denote that a thing has occurred later than necessary, so too "late on the Sabbaths" signifies a time long and far removed from the completed week. Each week is completed at the setting of the sun following the Sabbath. Furthermore, Matthew, wishing to signify the point in time that is far removed from the end of the completed week, and as it were interpreting himself, added, "which is dawning toward the first of the Sabbaths." The night, he says, had passed to such a degree that it was the time of the cock-crowing, which song precedes the light of the coming day. Therefore, at this very ^C point in time, and not in the evening after the Sabbath, do we finish our fasts and begin to delight and rejoice, a custom which has prevailed among all confirming this matter.

Since, then, this was the point in time, Mary Magdalene and the other woman of the same name came to the tomb, and they saw the angel who had descended from heaven, as has been said, who, having rolled back the stone, was sitting upon it; and invited by him, they saw the place where the Lord had been laid. And having been commanded to run and deliver the instructions they had received to the disciples, they went out quickly from the tomb and ran; and as they were running, Jesus met them and called out to them, saying, "Hail!" ^D For it was fitting that the female sex should first receive the good news of the resurrection from the angel, and see the Lord, and hear the first voice from Him, "Hail." Because a woman also was the first to hear the deception of the serpent, and saw the fruit of the forbidden tree contrary to the commandment, and was condemned to the penalty of sorrow and pain. For this reason, also, the Savior allowed them to worship Him and to take hold of His feet and handle them, as they were the first to fall away and be alienated from Him; and He commanded them to announce the joy to the disciples, wishing that the woman, who had been a minister of sorrow to Adam, should be a messenger of joy to men, healing contrary things by contrary means. But as they were going, he says, to announce it to the disciples, behold, some of the guard came

ἐλθόν τες εἰς τὴν πόλιν, ἀπήγγειλαν τοῖς ἀρχιερεῦσιν ^A ἅπαντα τὰ γενόμενα. Καὶ συναχθέντες μετὰ τῶν πρεσβυτέρων, συμβούλιόν τε λαβόντες, ἀργύρια ἱκανὰ ἔδωκαν τοῖς στρατιώταις λέγοντες· Εἴπατε ὅτι οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτοῦ νυκτὸς ἐλθόντες ἔκλεψαν αὐτὸν ἡμῶν κοιμωμένων, καὶ ἐὰν ἀκουσθῇ τοῦτο ἐπὶ τοῦ ἡγεμόνος, ἡμεῖς πείσομεν αὐτὸν, καὶ ὑμᾶς ἀμερίμνους ποιήσομεν· οἱ δὲ λαβόντες τὰ ἀργύρια, ἐποίησαν ὡς ἐδιδάχθησαν, καὶ διεφημίσθη ὁ λόγος οὗτος παρὰ Ἰουδαίοις μέχρι τῆς σήμερον.

ΕΝ Τῌ ΑΝΑΣΤΑΣΕΙ ΤΟΥ ΧΡΙΣΤΟΥ ΛΟΓΟΣ Β

Ἡ μὲν οὖν ἄλλη Μαρία (ταύτην δὲ εἶναι τὴν Θεοτόκον πιστεύειν ἀκόλουθον, ὅτι μηδὲ ἀπελείφθη τοῦ πάθους, ἀλλ᾽ ἵστατο παρὰ τῷ σταυρῷ, ὡς Ἰωάννης ἱστόρησεν, ᾗ καὶ ἔπρεπε τὰ τῆς χαρᾶς εὐαγγελίσασθαι, ῥίζῃ τῆς χαρᾶς οὔσῃ, καὶ καλῶς ἀκουσάσῃ τὸ, Χαῖρε, κεχαριτωμένη, ὁ Κύριος μετὰ σοῦ), τὸ πρόσταγμα τοῦ Κυρίου πληροῦσα, τοῖς μαθηταῖς πάντως ἀπήγγειλεν. Οὐ γὰρ ἦν θέμις μὴ πληρωθῆναι τὸ οὕτω σοφῶς οἰκονομηθέν τε καὶ προσταχθὲν, εἰ καὶ ἠπίστησαν οἱ ἀκούσαντες. Ἐπεὶ καὶ ἔπεται τοῦτο πολλάκις τῇ τῶν ἀπαγγελλομένων θαυμάτων ὑπερβολῇ. Οὐ γὰρ ἂν ἀργοὶ διέμειναν, εἰ ἐπίστευσαν.

Ἡ δὲ Μαγδαληνὴ συμπορευομένη τῇ Θεοτόκῳ, καὶ πρὸς τὴν ἀπαγγελίαν ὁμοίως ἐπειγομένη, πέπονθέ τι καὶ ἀνθρώπινον· καὶ ὥσπερ ὁ Πέτρος ὑπὸ Ἡρώδου συλληφθείς, καὶ διὰ τοῦ ἀγγέλου τῶν ἁλύσεων λυθεὶς αὐτομάτως, καὶ τῆς φυλακῆς ἔξω γενόμενος, καὶ ἐπιπολὺ βαδίσας, ὡς καὶ τὴν τῆς πόλεως πύλην διελθεῖν, ἀληθὲς οὐκ ᾤετο τὸ γινόμενον, ἀλλ' ἐνόμιζεν ὅραμα βλέπειν· οὕτω καὶ αὕτη τὴν ὑπερβολὴν τοῦ θαύματος οἱονεὶ ἄκαιρόν τινα λογισαμένη, καὶ ἅμα τῶν φυλάκων ἐπιφθασάντων, καὶ ἀρξαμένων μετὰ τῶν ἀρχιερέων τὴν συκοφαντίαν ὑφαίνειν κατὰ τῆς ἀναστάσεως· αἰσθομένη πάντως τοιούτου τινὸς ἐπιψιθυριζομένου, τοὺς τῆς ἀμφιβολίας παρεδέξατο λογισμούς, καὶ τῆς ἀπαγγελίας ὀλιγωρήσας, καὶ τοῦ σωτηρίου προστάγματος, πρὸς τὸν τάφον ἐχώρει πρωὶ, σκοτίας ὅτι οὔσης, ὡς Ἰωάννης φησίν. ^C Ὥσπερ γὰρ συνεχώρησεν ὁ Κύριος τὸν Θωμᾶν ἐξ ἀπιστίας εἰπεῖν, Ἐὰν μὴ ἴδω ἐν ταῖς χερσὶν αὐτοῦ τὸν τύπον τῶν ἥλων, καὶ βάλω τὸν δάκτυλόν μου εἰς τὸν τύπον τῶν ἥλων, καὶ βάλω τὴν χεῖρά μου εἰς τὴν πλευρὰν αὐτοῦ, οὐ μὴ πιστεύσω· καὶ διὰ τῆς ἐκείνου πολυπράγμονος ἀπιστίας καὶ ἐπαφῆς, ἡμεῖς εἰς τὴν πίστιν ἐβεβαιώθημεν, ἐν ᾧ σώματι πέπονθεν, ἐν αὐτῷ καὶ ἐγηγέρθαι πιστεύσαντες τὸν Ἐμμανουήλ, τοὺς τῆς δοκήσεως μύθους ἀποπεμψάμενοι· τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον καὶ τὴν Μαγδαληνὴν Μαρίαν πρὸς ἀπιστίας ὑπονοστήσασαν, καὶ μεγαλευχερῶς τοῦτο παθοῦσαν (οὐκ ἄδηλον γὰρ τὸ τῆς γυναικείας εὐόλισθον φύσεως), συνεχώρει διὰ τῆς περιέργου ζητήσεως, πιστότερον ἐργάσασθαι τὸ θαῦμα τῆς ἀναστάσεως, πίστεως ὑπάρχον πέρα καὶ παντὸς λογισμοῦ. Καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα τῆς ἀμφιβόλου διανοίας ἐλθοῦσα, καὶ ἰδοῦσα μόνον τὸν λίθον ἀποκυλισθέντα

ἀποκυλισθέντα ^A τῆς θύρας τοῦ μνήματος, οὐ μὴν ἄγγελον ἐπ' αὐτῷ καθάπερ ἤδη καθήμενον, δέδωκε τῇ ἀπιστείᾳ τὸ κρατεῖν, φαντασίαν οἰηθεῖσα τὴν θέαν καὶ ἔκστασιν, καὶ οὐχ ὡς ἀληθῆ, ἀλλ' ὡς ψευδῆ· καὶ δραμοῦσα πρὸς τὸν Πέτρον καὶ τὸν ἄλλον μαθητήν, ὃν ἐφίλει Ἰησοῦς, ἐβόα λέγουσα· Ἦραν τὸν Κύριον ἐκ τοῦ μνημείου, καὶ οὐκ οἶδα ποῦ ἔθηκαν αὐτόν.

^B Ὁρᾶς ὡς ἐκ τῶν λογοποιηθέντων νύκτωρ παρὰ Ἰουδαίοις μετὰ τὴν τῶν φυλάκων παραγγελίαν περιηχηθεῖσά τι τοιοῦτον, παρηνέχθη τὸν λογισμόν· καὶ ᾠήθη τοὺς ἐναντίους κλέψαι τὸ σῶμα τοῦ Ἰησοῦ, ἵνα τὴν κλοπὴν τοῖς ἀποστόλοις ἐπιφημίσωσι. Πλὴν ὁ Πέτρος καὶ Ἰωάννης ἑτοίμως διανέστησαν, καὶ ἐπὶ τὸν τάφον ἔδραμον. Οὐ γὰρ ἦν παράδοξον τὸ λεγόμενον, ἵν᾿ ὡς ἐπὶ τῆς ἀναστάσεως ἀπιστήσωσι· μᾶλλον δὲ καὶ πιστὸν καὶ οὐκ ἀπᾷδον τῆς Ἰουδαϊκῆς κακουργίας. Ἀφόβως δὲ τοῦτο ἐποίουν, καὶ ἡσυχίας ὑπαρχούσης καὶ ἔτι σκότους ὄντος, καὶ πρὸς τοῦ Θεοῦ τὸ θαῤῥεῖν λαβόντες. Ἀλλὰ ἐλθόντες εὗρον ἐναργῆ τὰ σημεῖα τῆς ἀναστάσεως. Ὁρῶσι γὰρ ἐν τῷ μνήματι τὰ ὀθόνια κείμενα· τοῦτο δὲ οὐκ ἄν ποτε ἐγένετο, κλαπέντος τοῦ σώματος. Πρῶτον μὲν γὰρ τοῖς κλέπταις φίλον τὸ λωποδυτεῖν· ἔπειτα δὲ, τὸ ταχέως ἐνεργεῖν ἄγαν τὴν κλοπήν, ἵνα μὴ φωραθῶσι καὶ τὰ πάνδεινα πάθωσι. Περὶ δὲ τοῦ σώματος τοῦ Ἰησοῦ γέγραφεν ὁ Ἰωάννης ὧδέ πως· Ἔδησαν αὐτὸ ἐν ὀθονίοις μετὰ τῶν ἀρωμάτων, καθὼς ἔθος ἦν τοῖς Ἰουδαίοις ἐνταφιάζειν. ^C Πῶς οὖν οὐκ ἐργῶδες τοῖς κλέπτουσι τὸ λύειν τοὺς δεσμούς, καὶ τὸ σῶμα τῶν ὀθονίων ἀπογυμνοῦν, προσκεκολλημένων καὶ δυσαποσπάστως ἐχόντων, καὶ πρὶν ἀπαμφιασθῆναι ρηγνυμένων; Μίγματι γὰρ ἁλόης καὶ σμύρνης συνεπλέκησαν, ὅπερ ἐκόμισε Νικόδημος. Ἀλλὰ καὶ τὸ σουδάριον, ὃ ἦν ἐπὶ τῆς κεφαλῆς αὐτοῦ, οὐ μετὰ τῶν ὀθονίων κείμενον, ἀλλὰ χωρὶς ἐντετυλιγμένον εἰς ἕνα τόπον, οὐδένα θόρυβον ὡς ἐπὶ κλεπτῶν ἐδήλου λαβόντων τὸ σῶμα. Ποῦ γὰρ σχολὴν εἶχον οἱ κλέπται καὶ τοιαύτην ἄδειαν, ὡς καὶ τὸ τῆς κεφαλῆς κάλυμμα κατὰ τάξιν εἱλεῖν καὶ τιθέναι χωρίς; Ὥστε καὶ τοῦτο συνίστησι σαφῶς τῆς ἀναστάσεως τὴν ἀλήθειαν· ἅμα δὲ καὶ μυστήριον παρεδήλου θεοπρεπές, ὡς ἡ κεφαλὴ τῆς θεότητος τάξιν ἐπέχουσα (κατὰ ^D τὸν «Η κεφαλὴ τοῦ Χριστοῦ ὁ Θεός»), καὶ οἱ περὶ αὐτῆς λόγοι μένουσι καὶ μετὰ τὴν ἐνανθρώπησιν οἷον ἐνειλημμένοι καὶ ἀδιάλυτοι· κἂν τὰ κάτω τὰ περὶ τὴν ἔνσαρκον οἰκονομίαν, καὶ τὴν ἐπὶ γῆς μετὰ ἀνθρώπων ἀναστροφήν (ὧν τύπος ἦν τὰ ὀθόνια), κατὰ τὸ δυνατὸν ἡμῖν διαλέλυταί τε καὶ ἐψηλάφηται. Καὶ ταῦτα ἰδόντες οἱ περὶ τὸν Πέτρον ἐπίστευσαν, οὐχ ἁπλῶς μόνον, ἀλλὰ καὶ κρείττονι νῷ καὶ ἀποστολικῷ θεασάμενοι. Πλήρης γὰρ ἦν ὁ τάφος φωτός, ὥστε καὶ νυκτὸς οὔσης ἔτι, διπλῶς θεάσασθαι τὰ ἔνδον, καὶ αἰσθητῶς καὶ πνευματικῶς. Εἰ γὰρ φῶς δικαίοις, κατὰ τὸ γεγραμμένον, διὰ παντὸς, πολλῷ μᾶλλον

^A τῷ τῶν δικαίων Θεῷ. Οὐκ ἐπίστευσαν δέ, φησίν, ἐπεὶ μηδέπω ᾔδεισαν τὴν Γραφὴν, ὅτι δεῖ αὐτὸν ἐκ νεκρῶν ἀναστῆναι. Καὶ μὴν ᾔδεισαν τοῦ Σωτῆρος αὐτοῖς πολλάκις προειρηκότος, ὡς ἀναστήσεται· ἀλλ᾽ οὐχ ὡς ἀπὸ τῆς Γραφῆς πεπεισμένοι καὶ τῶν ἐκεῖθεν φερομένων χρησμῶν (οὓς μὴ ἐκβῆναι τῶν ἀδυνάτων ἦν), ἀλλ᾽ ἔτι περὶ τὴν πίστιν ἐκλάζοντες.

Παρίστησι δὲ τὸ γυμνὸν τὸν Ἰησοῦν ἀναστῆναι, τῶν ὀθονίων χωρὶς, τὸ μηδαμῶς αὐτὸν ἔτι κατὰ ^B σάρκα γνωσθήσεσθαι τροφῆς ἢ ποτοῦ δεηθησόμενον, ἢ ἐνδυμάτων περιβολῆς. Εἰ καὶ τὴν οἰκονομίαν πληρῶν, τούτοις ἑκὼν ὑπέθηκεν ἑαυτὸν, ὡς τῆς αὐτῆς φύσεως κοινωνήσας ἡμῖν, ἔπειτα δὲ δηλοῖ καὶ τὴν τοῦ Ἀδὰμ εἰς τὸ ἀρχαῖον ἀποκατάστασιν, ὅτε γυμνὸς ἦν ἐν τῷ παραδείσῳ καὶ οὐκ ᾐσχύνετο. Λοιπὸν γὰρ ὡς Θεὸς, εἰ καὶ σεσαρκωμένος, δόξῃ τῇ θεοπρεπεστάτῃ περιεβέβλητο, αὐτὸς ὢν ὁ ἀναβαλλόμενος φῶς ὡς ἱμάτιον, ᾗ φησιν ὁ προφήτης Δαβίδ. Ἀλλ᾽ ὁ μὲν Πέτρος καὶ Ἰωάννης πιστωθέντες ἐκ τῶν τεθεαμένων, ἀνεχώρουν οἴκαδε· τῇ Μαρίᾳ δὲ εἶπον οὐδέν. Ὠκονόμει γὰρ ὁ μόνος σοφός, ὡς ἀπιστοῦσαν ἐκ θέας αὐτὴν προσάγεσθαι μᾶλλον, ἢ ἀκοῆς. ^C Εἱστήκει τοίνυν πρὸς τῷ μνήματι ἔξω κλαίουσα, καὶ παρακύψασα εἶδεν ἀγγέλους δύο λευκοὺς καὶ φαιδροὺς τῇ στολῇ, καθεζομένους ἕνα πρὸς τῇ κεφαλῇ, καὶ ἕνα πρὸς τοῖς ποσὶν, ὅπου ἔκειτο τὸ σῶμα τοῦ Ἰησοῦ· καὶ δέον τὸν ὀδυρμὸν εἰς εὐφροσύνην μεταβαλεῖν, τῶν δακρύων οὐκ ἔληγεν, ὥστε τοὺς ἀγγέλους οἱονεὶ μετ᾿ ἐπιτιμήσεως εἰπεῖν· Γύναι, τί κλαίεις; ὡσανεὶ ἔλεγον· Γυναικεία ταῦτα τὰ δάκρυα, οὐκ εὔφρονος νοῦ. Ποῦ γὰρ χώραν ἔχει τὸ μετὰ τοιαύτην θέαν ὀδύρεσθαι; Κἀκείνη τῆς αὐτῆς ἀπιστίας ἐχομένη (παρετείνετο γὰρ τὸ πάθος, ἵνα τοῖς κατὰ μικρὸν προτιθεμένοις εἰς πίστιν τελείως ἐκκαθαρθείη), πρὸς αὐτοὺς εἶπεν ὅτι Ἦραν τὸν Κύριόν μου ἐκ τοῦ μνημείου, καὶ οὐκ οἶδα ποῦ ἔθηκαν αὐτόν. ^D Καὶ ταῦτα εἰποῦσα ἐστράφη εἰς τὰ ὀπίσω, καὶ θεωρεῖ τὸν Ἰησοῦν ἑστῶτα, καὶ οὐκ ᾔδει ὅτι Ἰησοῦς ἐστι· τοῦτο μὲν ἐκ τῶν δακρύων ἐπισκοτουμένη, καὶ οἷον ἀχλύν βεβαρημένη, τοῦτο δὲ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ οἰκονομοῦντος τὸ μὴ γνωσθῆναι αὐτῇ· διὸ καὶ εἶπε· Γύναι, τί κλαίεις; Τίνα ζητεῖς; Ἐκείνη δοκοῦσα ὅτι ὁ κηπουρός ἐστι, λέγει αὐτῷ· Κύριε, εἰ σὺ ἐβάστασας αὐτὸν, εἰπέ μοι ποῦ ἔθηκας αὐτὸν, κἀγὼ αὐτὸν ἀρῶ. Τάχα δὲ οὐκ ἔξω τοῦ πρέποντος κηπουρὸν ὑπέλαβεν εἶναι τὸν Ἰησοῦν· τῷ ὄντι γὰρ ἦν αὐτὸς ὁ τοῦ παραδείσου γεωργὸς ἀληθὴς καὶ ἀθάνατος, ἐν τῷ τοῦ μνήματος κήπῳ καθάπερ ἐν τῷ παραδείσῳ τὴν γυναῖκα, τὴν ἐξ ἀπιστίας τὸν Ἀδὰμ τὸν πρῶτον κηπουρὸν ἀπατήσασαν, διορθούμενος. Οὕτως οὖν ἅπαντα μυστηριώδη, καὶ λόγων ἔμπλεα θειοτέρων καὶ ὑψηλῶν.

ὑψηλῶν. ^A But when Mary had said these things, and was still lingering in anxiety about the search for the body, and had turned away more resolutely, so as to even depart, He who penetrates even to the division of soul and spirit, of joints also and marrow, and who knows how to judge the thoughts and movements of the heart, perceiving her to be sufficiently terrified and distraught, cut off her unbelief with a single word and sharpened the woman’s gaze for recognition, saying only, as He alone knew, with a tone that stirred reverence: "Mariam." And she, having turned instantly, addressed Him, "Rabboni," which is to say, "Master," and she sought to take hold of those divine feet, and heard: "Do not touch me. For as yet I have not ascended to my Father." This, He says, "is a gift you have already obtained, for you have already touched me along with the other Mary, and have worshipped, and held my feet, yet you despised it so much that you did not even believe, and conceived nothing great about me in your mind, but were still seeking at the monument Him who was divinely above with the Father. And now, do not touch me if, with that same state of mind, you think that the ascension to the Father is still lacking for me. For I have not yet, as you think, ascended to my Father; but go to my brothers, and say to them: I am ascending to my Father, and your Father, and ^B my God, and your God." Since I have become, He says, by flesh the first-born among many brothers, not for myself now, but for you who are my brothers, I shall corporally ascend to my Father, and your Father, and my God, and your God. For unless He had been called my God, having seen in me the innocence of human nature—inasmuch as, just as in the beginning of the race, I knew no sin—as in the first-fruits of the race, He would not have been called your Father, or the God of those who had been alienated from Him. Wherefore also Paul, writing to the Hebrews, said: "For Christ has not entered into holy places made by hands, which are copies of the true ones, but into heaven itself, that He might now appear in the presence of God for us." Mary Magdalene then comes and announces to the disciples that she has seen the Lord, and that He had said these things to her. ^C And having arrived and announced it, she again finds Mary of James, and Joanna, and certain others with them, hastening to the tomb with the preparation of spices and ointments, as the darkness had receded and it was deep dawn (that is, accurately, even just beginning), as Luke says; and having joined herself with them, she went along, and because of the burning desire for Jesus, she seemed to be their leader, and is numbered first among the evangelists because of the prominence gained from this event. For she desired that they also should have faith in the resurrection, not from what they had heard from her and the other Mary, but from those things which they themselves might see, or from the presence of angels; and she was with them, prudently keeping silent and saying nothing while they made their way, but waiting for the event that Mary expected, and believing that to them too, with their own eyes, some information would be given. And indeed, the stone having been rolled away...

^A they entered, and not finding the body of Jesus, and being perplexed, they see two men standing by them in garments flashing like lightning; and they heard from them, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen,” and the rest. And returning, he says, from the tomb, they reported all these things to the Eleven and to all the rest. But as they were a confused crowd, they rather leaned toward incredulity, and they mocked the report and rejected it. For their words seemed like nonsense, and they did not believe them, so that Peter, even himself, somewhat disturbed and shaken by their unbelief, arose, and running again to the tomb, ^B and looking in, and again seeing the linen cloths lying—which he had already entered and examined more accurately, and so, being content with only looking in, and seeing nothing different, he went away, wondering and amazed at what had happened, and glorifying Him who had ordained and administered these things. And again, Mary Magdalene, just as she had gone with those about Joanna, in the deep dawn, bearing the ointments and spices which they had prepared before the Sabbath, in the same way also with Salome, a woman foreign to the others who were named, though late, having bought spices, yet after the Sabbath, she ran diligently with the same intention, having taken with her also Mary of James, so that they might seem to have been partners even in the purchase of the spices. For as they were companions on the journey, they considered the whole affair ^C to be a common endeavor: “And very early on the first day of the week they come to the tomb.” It is contained in the more accurate copies, indicating that in addition to the visits that had already taken place, this arrival of the women at the tomb also occurred. Now, explaining “very early,” Mark added, “when the sun had risen.” And they were saying, he says, among themselves: “Who will roll the stone away for us from the door of the tomb?” And looking up, they see that the stone has been rolled away. For it was very great. For since Salome was justly perplexed, as one who had not approached the tomb at all, and was saying this to those walking with her, they—keeping silence in the way mentioned above, and lifting their eyes ^D—made the answer with their gaze; for indeed, the stone appeared rolled away before their eyes. But because they were going together and the journey to them was a common one, it is written that they had said and questioned among themselves, if we consider the nature of things and the truth of history, and discern to whom it belonged to be perplexed. For it was not probable that those who had already seen the stone rolled away many times should be concerned about this. But since, among these women in Mark, the person of Salome, who ignores it, is introduced, the argument possesses its probability incontestably. Since it is not consistent for those others to say, “Who will roll away, very early,

the stone,” ^A seeing that the Jews had sealed the entrance to the tomb, and had set a guard of soldiers, and the third day was upon them. For those wretches said to Pilate, “We remembered that that impostor said while he was still alive, ‘After three days I shall rise.’” If, therefore, the women had known of the miracle that had occurred through the angel, and of the moving of the stone, and of the death-like stupor and departure of the guards from fear, how would they have been anxious about the rolling away of the stone? But if they were ignorant of the miracle, they ought to have considered the military guard and not have imagined the opening of the monument. But, as I said, Salome was ignorant of this too, and those words were hers alone. ^B For Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, having sat opposite the tomb, as Matthew has recorded, and having attended with great zeal and industry, had observed with their own eyes both the seals of the Jews and the guard of the soldiers. And having entered, Salome, with both Marys, saw a young man sitting on the right, clothed in a white robe, and they were all struck with fear: she, indeed, because she stood in need of faith and was affected in a more human way; but the others, because they had frequented the monument often, and henceforth seemed to pry more than was necessary or required into the resurrection. ^C For this reason also a youth appeared, who was able to terrify and strike them with fear by his stature, and mixing liveliness and joy with terror through the whiteness of his robe—both on account of the festival, and so that they should not be frozen by fear—he addresses them more sharply, chastising them with words and admonishing them not to be inquisitive after so many sights, but rather to remain firm in what they had seen: “Go, therefore,” he says, “tell his disciples and Peter (the disciples, inasmuch as they had often disbelieved; Peter, as one who had come a second time to the tomb with your same curiosity), that he goes before you into Galilee; there you will see him, as he said to you.” To you women, he appeared late on the Sabbath, as the day was dawning into the first of the Sabbaths, as Matthew wrote. ^D For nowhere does it appear that he said to the disciples that he would appear to them in Galilee after the resurrection, unless perhaps one says that which Matthew and Mark wrote: that after the mystical supper, when they had gone out to the Mount of Olives after singing a hymn, it was said by the Savior in some way like this: “But after I have risen, I will go before you into Galilee.”

Having gone out of the tomb, the Marys and Salome, seized with trembling and astonishment, became fugitives, and said nothing to anyone. For they were afraid, partly because of the terror of the youth, and partly because the day had already progressed, and the Jews, as is likely, were wandering up and down, ready to kill. In the more accurate copies, the [text] after Mark

"For they were afraid," has its end. In some, however, these things are added: ^A *But when he had risen early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, from whom he had cast out seven demons.* This seems to contain a certain contradiction to what we have said before. For, the hour of the night being unknown at which the Savior rose, how is it written here that he rose "early"? But the text will not appear contradictory at all, if we read it with understanding. For one must punctuate it sagely: "But when he had risen," and then add accordingly: "early on the first day of the week he appeared first to Mary Magdalene," so that the word "having risen" may have, in harmony with Matthew, reference to the preceding time; while the word "early" should be assigned to the apparition that happened to Mary, ^B who had seen the Lord first together with the other Mary, and again by herself—for "early" is the whole interval that exists after the crowing of the cock.

Since, therefore, there are four times and as many arrivals by which the women came to the tomb, the Holy Spirit arranged and ordained the matter in such a way that each evangelist should record a single point in time. And Matthew indeed recorded those who came to the tomb in the evening of the Sabbath, and one angel having descended from heaven and rolled away the stone; but John recorded that Mary Magdalene came alone in the darkness before dawn, and saw two angels inside the tomb; ^C Luke, others at that very time, at early dawn; and Mark, yet another as the sun was rising, with some joined in who had already arrived before. And to the former, two men stood by them; but to the latter, they saw a young man sitting on the right, and all were clothed in white robes. So that one can, by assembling what has been written by each according to the order of the times, create one harmony and one body of the whole history, just as if one person had written the whole account and not many. For if all four had mentioned one arrival of the women that had happened at one moment of time, and had said that the same angels appeared, or if they had all said that there was one and the same appearance—that is, a vision—^D and claimed that it had happened at different times, not mentioning each one’s own time, the account would have been open to the reproach of disagreement. But if both the persons and the times were different, and the countenances of those who appeared were not the same (God having willed to confirm the incredible miracle of the resurrection through many ways), and one evangelist pursued the history of what another had omitted, how is it not the case that the whole narrative is pure and free from every reproach?

Since, moreover, mention of many Marys is made in the Gospels, one must understand that there are three in all...

^A we ought, as John has summarized them, saying: *There stood by the cross of Jesus his mother, and his mother's sister, Mary of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalene* (John xix, 25). For we believe that Mary, who is called by the other evangelists the mother of James and Joses, is the Theotokos and no other. For since it was so ordered and destined, that the divine birth should be overshadowed, and that it should not be revealed to the bloodthirsty Jews that, at the very time she was to be led to the marriage bed, the Virgin had conceived of the Holy Spirit—just as it is written in the Scriptures, ^B or rather, just as Joseph was called her husband and the father of Jesus—in the same way was the Theotokos called and named the mother of Joses and James, who were children of the carpenter Joseph from a prior marriage and were still of a tender age when his wife had died. It was for this reason that the Jews, slandering the Savior, said: *Is not this the carpenter's son? Is not his mother called Mary, and his brothers James, and Joses, and Simon, and Judas?* (Matt. xiii, 55). And therefore John, as one who was writing the divine history freely, called her who stood by the cross what she was in reality: the mother of Jesus. But the rest of the evangelists, who labored much over the dispensation, with a set purpose called her the mother of James and Joses (for these were the first and well-known sons of Joseph), Scripture clearly signifying by this that, ^C due to this dispensation and plan, and the opinion conceived from it, Mary attended the saving passion without danger. For if the crowd had known her to be a virgin, she would perhaps have been destroyed by the envious Jews. You will also find that she is called by the evangelists the mother of only one of the sons of Joseph, namely Mary of James and Mary of Joses. But Mark called her the mother of James the Less and of Joses, because there was another James, the son of Alphaeus, who was therefore "great" because he was numbered among the twelve apostles; for the "less" was not among their number.

But someone might perhaps not unreasonably doubt concerning this: how did the Savior, who promised to the disciples, partly through angels and partly by his own voice, that he would go before them into Galilee and appear to them, ^D appear to fulfill the promise in Jerusalem as well? For according to Luke, he appeared on the very day of the resurrection to the eleven gathered together; but as John writes, he grants an apparition both on that day and on the eighth day, standing in their midst and saying, *Peace be unto you*, and even offering himself to be touched by Thomas. Yet this shows the riches of his generosity and humanity; it does not contain the charge of falsehood. For he did not say, "They will see me only in Galilee," nor, having appeared in Jerusalem, did he fail to appear in Galilee as he had promised (for this would be to make his own words false by lying); but if even in Jerusalem, being shut inside [a room]

a house because of fear of the Jews, he appeared to those who were in need of his presence, and fulfilled his promise by appearing in Galilee, he can escape all accusation, both occurring benignly and at the same time truly.

Now it seems to me that the statement made by Matthew regarding the disciples, namely, "That they should go into Galilee, and there they shall see me," contains a great and hidden significance. For since there were to be many appearances to them, the words of the promise looked toward one as being special and superior to the others—that according to which he was about to appear to them on the mountain. For then, when they had approached him and worshiped him, though some doubted, he said with authority worthy of God, "All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth." For those things which he possessed naturally as God, he is said to receive as having become man, in accordance with the dispensation. Therefore he also said, "Glorify me, O Father, with thyself with the glory which I had with thee before the world was." For if he did not possess it as his own, as God, it would have been impossible for him to receive it as something foreign, since God and the Father says through the prophet, "My glory I will not give to another." ^B And afterwards he adds the words by which they were to ensnare, as it were, the whole inhabited world, and in which consists the entire mystery of piety. "Go," he says, "teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, teaching them to keep all things whatsoever I have commanded you." And he adds then the things which guarantee the end and the outcome of these words: "And behold, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen."

For these reasons he said, "Go, tell my brethren that they go into Galilee, and there they shall see me." Toward this vision, as being something proper and special, as I said, he was aiming, and for more than that, he foretold it through other words which are not contained in the evangelical writings. For if this were not so, Matthew would not have said, "Then the eleven disciples went away into Galilee, into a mountain where Jesus had appointed them," since nowhere in the Gospels is the Lord promised to make the manifestation upon a mountain. For before this manifestation which happened on the mountain, he appeared to them also at the sea of Tiberias, which is in Galilee, ^C being seven in number—to Peter, and Thomas, and Nathanael, and the sons of Zebedee, and two others of the disciples, as John recorded. But the word, "There they shall see me," looked toward the mountain where Jesus had appointed them, commanding and enjoining in an address full of divine majesty: "Go, teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost."

And indeed, it does not seem to me to be without purpose that these words were spoken on the mountain of Galilee and not elsewhere. For Galilee is interpreted in the Greek tongue as "rolling." Therefore also "Gelgel" is called a wheel. Just as, therefore, from a high mountain ^D

^A exactly as these words were uttered by the mouth of the Savior, they rolled out to the inhabited world like a wheel and ran through everything; and all were baptized, both nations and cities, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

But having heard these words, the disciples did not immediately set out for any nation, but remained in Jerusalem until Pentecost, awaiting the advent and presence of the Holy Spirit, who came upon them in tongues of fire. For as He appeared to them and gathered them together in various ways for forty days, as Luke says in the beginning of the book of Acts, He commanded and enjoined them, saying, "Do not depart from Jerusalem, but wait for the promise of the Father, which you heard from me; for John baptized with water, but you shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit." And the expression "not to be separated" is very beautiful, meaning not to stand far off nor to be at a distance, yet He did not say they were not to leave Jerusalem at all. For how could He have said this, who had commanded them to go into Galilee? As for that which is said at the end of the Gospel of Luke: "And it happened, while He was blessing them, He parted from them and was carried up into heaven." ^B Likewise, also that which is written in Mark: "So then the Lord, after He had spoken to them, was received up into heaven and sat down at the right hand of God." This must be understood as having taken place on the fortieth day, according to what is recorded in the Acts. For the things that they spoke briefly and concisely in the Gospels are explained and clarified with a wider narrative. These are the things contained in the Gospel readings of the Lord’s night, which could trouble one who is ignorant, and which we have paid to you as a debt. But what you are going to do after hearing these things—I blush to say, when I consider the rush to the spectacles and the frenzy of the multitude. But may the Lord provide us with the strength to turn away from evil and to do good, by the grace and loving-kindness of the Lord and God and Savior of us, Jesus Christ: to whom be glory and dominion with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

ORATION III

The poor among men, being lovers of feasts, and with a willing and ready mind, and with splendid demeanor and dress, frequent gatherings and celebrations; and even if they cannot provide for themselves the expenses for the elegance that they desire, yet by borrowing all that is magnificent and precious from acquaintances and relatives, they ensure that nothing is lacking for their present use. The same thing, I think, happens to me on this present day. For having nothing magnificent in the

way of praise to offer from myself to the sacred song which we just now sang, I shall take refuge in that source. From there, using the occasion, I shall pay my debt by weaving in my own words—if indeed any praises happen to be found with the poor servant—as thanksgiving to the Master. ^A David, then, was saying just now, and we with him: "Praise the Lord, all nations; praise him, all you peoples" (Ps. cxvii, 1). He calls every human being from Adam to the hymn, leaving no one outside the call; but he leads the Westerners, the Easterners, those on either side, and whoever is a neighbor of the North or an inhabitant of the South, all together in the psalm. And elsewhere he indeed addresses certain men specifically, either calling the saints or rousing the children to the hymn; but in the present case he gathers nations and peoples with the psaltery. For when, according to the Apostle, "the fashion of this world passes away" (1 Cor. vii, 31), ^B and Christ, King and God, appears to all, making every unbelieving soul fully persuaded and bridling the blasphemous tongue, and stays the vanity of the Greeks, and the error of the Jews, and the indomitable bitterness of the heresies; then indeed, then all nations and the peoples from all ages will bow down, and all at once will send up their worship, and there will be a wondrous harmony of glorification—as the saints customarily hymn, and the impious, out of necessity, petition. And then truly the triumphal hymn will be sung in harmony by all, both by the defeated and by the victors; then also that author of the disturbance, the servant who imagined and arrogated to himself the dignity of the Master, will be seen by all as a ^C scourge-bearing slave, dragged by angels to his punishment, and all the ministers and accomplices of his wickedness will be subjected to the fitting punishments and penalties. But one King and Judge will appear, whom all will confess as the common Master; and there will be a settled silence, just as when a ruler is sitting on a tribunal, the herald signals for silence, and the people, straining both their eyes and ears, wait to hear the address. For this reason, "Praise the Lord, all nations; praise him, all you peoples." Praise [Him] as powerful, praise [Him] as merciful, because He brought back to life those who had fallen and were dead, and restored the broken vessel again, and fashioned the stench of the remains that were in the tombs into an incorruptible living being, ^D and led back the soul which had left the body four thousand years ago, as if from a long sojourn, to its own house, not finding it at all strange after such time and forgetfulness toward its own instrument, but rather hastening toward it more swiftly than a bird flies to its own nest. For let us speak of the things proper to the festival, so that in accordance

^A with things themselves we may celebrate appropriately. For that which is improper and foreign, besides being of no benefit, is disorderly and absurd, not only in discourses concerning religion and piety, but even in external matters and those pertaining to worldly wisdom. For what orator is so foolish and ridiculous that, having been invited to a wedding full of cheerfulness and joy, he would abandon the fitting and pleasant style of speech—which is suited to the occasion and, as it were, congratulates the hilarity and festivity of the gathering—and instead recite sad and mournful songs, or chant calamities drawn from tragedy at a wedding feast and in the bridal chamber? Or, on the contrary, being commanded to perform funeral rites for someone deceased and deliver a funeral oration, he should forget the present circumstance and show himself pleasant and cheerful before a gathering full of sadness? But if in worldly affairs an orderly and knowledgeable approach is becoming, it is surely much more appropriate in great and heavenly matters. ^B Christ therefore, God, impassible and immortal, has risen for us today (and you, pagan, pause a little, and put aside your wanton and insolent laughter until you have heard everything), not having suffered from necessity, nor being compelled to descend from heaven, nor having obtained the resurrection as an unexpected and unforeseen favor beyond hope, but as one who knew the end of all things, and having thus made his beginning, having in the eyes of his divinity the knowledge of things set before him. Even before descending from heaven, he saw the disturbance of the nations, the hardness of Israel, Pilate sitting before the tribunal, Caiaphas rending his garments, the seditious mob inflamed with rage, Judas betraying him, Peter fighting for him, and after a little while himself being transformed by the resurrection into the glory of immortality. Having everything that was to come prescribed in his knowledge, he did not delay in bestowing the favor upon man, nor did he put off the stewardship of these things; but just as those who see someone weak being swept away by the force of a torrent and whirlpool, though not ignorant that it might happen that they themselves become entangled in the muddy torrent and be injured by the blows of the stones which the water carries along with it, nevertheless, ^C because of their compassion for the one in danger, do not hesitate to enter in; so too our philanthropic Savior, of his own volition and accord, undertook insults and ignominy, so that he might save him who had perished through deceit. He descended into this life because he foresaw also the glorious ascent. He allowed himself to die for the human race because he also foresaw the resurrection and had it in his mind's eye. For he did not, like one of the common run of men, recklessly expose himself to dangers, entrusting the outcome to the uncertainty of the future, but as God he governed the matter set before him, with the end fixed and known.

This, then, is the day which the Lord has made; let us exult and rejoice in it. On it, let us not engage in drunkenness and revelry, not in dances and insane debauchery, but in God-inspired ^D thoughts. Today, one may see the whole world like a single house, in harmony with one

another as if by some agreement, and as if a signal had been received, everyone has been brought to the pursuit of prayer. The highways ^A are empty of travelers; the sea today is deserted of sailors and voyagers; the farmer, having cast aside his mattock and plow, has adorned himself in the manner of one celebrating a feast; the taverns are free from the business of commerce; the anxieties of life have been dissolved like winter upon the appearance of spring; the clamor, the disturbances, and the storms of life have given way to the peace of the feast. The poor man is adorned like the rich; the rich man appears more radiant than is his custom; the old man runs like a youth to take part in the joy; the infirm man even does violence to his sickness; the young child celebrates the feast through the change of his clothing, since he cannot yet do so in his mind. The virgin ^B rejoices exceedingly in her soul, because she sees the remembrance of her own hope so splendidly honored; the married woman, keeping the feast with the entire fullness of her house, rejoices; for now she herself, and her husband, and her children, and her servants, and all who dwell under her roof are exultant. And just as a new and newly-born swarm of bees, first having come out from their hiding places or their hives, flies up together into the air and the light, and having been gathered in one mass, settles upon the branch of a tree; so, on the occasion of this feast, entire families hasten together to their homes. And truly, the present day is rightly referred to and compared by imitation to the future one. For both are a gathering place for men—the former of all, the latter of individuals. But ^C if we are to speak the truth, as far as it brings gladness and cheerfulness, this one is more graceful and pleasant than that which is awaited, for at that time it is necessary for those who are lamenting also to be seen, whose sins are being uncovered; but the joy of the present day admits of no one who is sad or downcast in spirit. For both the righteous man rejoices, and he who does not have a pure conscience expects the correction that comes from repentance, and all sorrow is lulled to sleep on this present day. No one is so overcome by pain that he cannot find relief in the magnificence of the feast; now the prisoner is set free; the debtor is released; the slave is liberated by the good and philanthropic proclamation of the Church, not being shamefuly struck ^D on the cheek and being set free only from blow to blow, nor being paraded before the public on a high platform as is done in a procession, having insult and shame as the beginning of his freedom; but he is set free so decorously that he is known and benefited, even he who still remains in servitude. For even if one’s sins are many and grievous, surpassing request and forgiveness, the Master, revering the calmness and philanthropy of the day, receives the cast-off and those seen among the dishonored, just as Pharaoh did the cupbearer from the prison. For He knows that, at the time appointed for the resurrection—to the likeness of which we honor the present day—He himself also has need of the Master's long-suffering and goodness, and by lending mercy here, he looks for the repayment in due time. Have you heard, masters? Keep this word as a good thing; do not denounce me to the servants as someone falsely eulogizing the day. Take away the

^A sorrow from the afflicted souls, as the Lord takes away the death of the bodies; transform the disgraced into honor, the afflicted into joy, those who lack boldness into boldness. Bring out from the corner those who have been cast away as if they were in tombs; let the beauty of the feast blossom like a flower for all. For if the birthday of a human king opens the prison, shall the victory day of Christ, having risen, not set free those who are oppressed? You poor, embrace your nurse; you who have injured, corrupted, or mutilated bodies, greet the healer of your calamities, since on account of the hope of the resurrection, virtue is pursued and vice is hated; for with the resurrection removed, one saying will be found to prevail among all: "Let us eat and drink; for tomorrow we die." ^B

Looking toward this day, the Apostle despises the temporary life and desires and strives for the future one, counting as nothing the things that are seen, saying: "If in this life only we have hoped, we are of all men most miserable." Because of this day, men become heirs of God and joint-heirs of Christ. Because of this day, the part of the body which carnivorous birds may have eaten a thousand years ago will be found not missing; and that which dogs, or whales, or other marine animals have devoured, will rise again together with the resurrected man; furthermore, whatever fire has burned up, and whatever the worm has consumed in the tombs, and in a word, all bodies whatsoever that corruption has destroyed and removed from the midst after their birth, shall be given back from the earth whole and lacking no part of themselves; and as Paul teaches, the resurrection will be completed "in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye." The twinkling of an eye is the closing of the eyelids. And there could be nothing swifter than this speed. Nor, calculating according to your own human capacity, imagine in your mind how many intervals of time you write out in your soul: first, that ^C the bones which have rotted and turned to dust might be compacted into their original hardness and smoothness, and that, having been united from the fracturing, they might again come together into a resonant harmony and their natural conjunction; and then further, you might observe the covering of flesh, and the extended connections of nerves, and the thin and delicate ducts of veins and arteries woven underneath the skin; and the unspeakable and innumerable multitude of souls flying from certain secret habitations, each one recognizing its own body as a special garment, and quickly dwelling in it again, and using an unerring discernment amidst such a multitude of spirits of the same kind. For reflect upon the souls from Adam, and from him the bodies, a multitude of so many houses having been dissolved, and the masters of the houses returning from a long sojourn, and all things being accomplished miraculously; for neither does a house delay in being rebuilt, nor does the inhabitant wander or stay outside, seek- ^D

- ^A ing his own private possessions; but he proceeds straight to it, like a dove to its own tower, even if many and frequent ones are distinguished by the same marks around the same place. Whence, again, comes the recollection and the reckoning of the former life, and the thought of each action, being so swiftly reconstituted with the animal [body] that has been dissolved for so many ages? And yet, a man awakened from a deeper sleep for a little while does not know who he is or where he is staying, and forgets familiar things, until wakefulness, having dispelled the stupor, rekindles the power of memory and its efficacy once again.

These things, and such like these, entering into the reasonings of many, fill the mind with surpassing wonder, and yet at the same time they bring disbelief into the wonder. For because the mind does not find the solution to the things that are questioned and sought, nor is it able to find and satisfy its own curiosity, it eventually proceeds toward disbelief in the weakness of its own reasonings, casting out and denying the truth of the matters. But since the discourse, advancing on its path, reached the question that is frequently discussed, and it is a topic appropriate and kindred to the present ^B feast, come, let us draw back the subject to a beginning fitting for this discussion, and let us attempt to provide full assurance to those who wrongly doubt concerning manifest things.

The Creator of all things, wishing to create man, did not bring him into being as a creature worthy of contempt, but as one more precious than all others, and appointed him king of the creation under heaven. Having purposed this, and having fashioned such a wise and godlike being, and having adorned him with much grace, did He bring him into being with such an intention, that once born he should perish, and undergo total destruction? But the purpose is vain, and it is highly unworthy to attribute such a thought to God. For in this way he is likened to little children, who build with haste and quickly pull down the structure, their mind reaching no useful end.

But we have been taught the exact contrary: that He created the first-formed man immortal. But when the transgression and the sin occurred, ^C He deprived him of immortality as a penalty for the offense; then the fount of goodness, overflowing with love toward mankind, and moved toward the work of His own hands, adorned him with wisdom and knowledge, and He was pleased to restore and renew us into the ancient state.

These things are both true, and worthy of the opinion that it is right to hold concerning God. For they testify not only to His goodness, but also to His power. For neither is it the way of men who are good and of the best character to be unmoved and harsh toward those who are under their rule and committed to their care. Thus, the shepherd wills that the flock committed to him be vigorous, and (continued in next page)

and the cowherd increases his cattle with various cares; the goatherd prays that his goats may bring forth twin kids at any time; and every overseer of a flock simply desires that his flock remain with him and thrive, looking toward some useful end. Since this is the case, and since it has been shown from the things just said by us that it is ^B most fitting for the Artificer and Creator of our race to reshape and restore his corrupted work, it is evident that those who disbelieve in the following matters do not fight and oppose for any other reason than that they think it impossible for God to resurrect that which is dead and dissolved. Truly, their mindset is dead and senseless, as they calculate that something is impossible or unachievable for God, and attribute the infirmity of their own nature to the omnipotent majesty. But in order that we may strike at their folly with refutational arguments, let that which is future—but is not believed to be future—be demonstrated from things present and past. You have heard that dust was fashioned ^C and became a human being. Teach me, then, I pray you, you who claim to embrace all things with your wisdom, by what reasoning the fine, scattered dust was gathered together; how the earth became flesh, and the same matter formed bones, skin, fat, and hair; how, while flesh is one thing, the forms of the limbs, as well as their qualities and textures, are diverse; how the lung is soft to the touch and livid in color, the liver solid, firm, and unyielding, and red; the heart is a contracted and very hard particle of flesh; the spleen is porous and black; the caul is white and woven by nature like a fisherman's net? Let us also consider ^D those matters: how the first woman, from a small part of a rib, became a whole creature, similar to the perfect and first, and how the part sufficed for all and constituted the whole, small as it was; how the rib became head, hands and feet, the bent and complex shaping of the viscera and intestines, flesh, hair, eye, nose, mouth—all things, in short, so that I may not draw out the argument too long—all of them wonderful and contrary to common opinion and sense, and exceeding the grasp of our mind, we who are but a small, tiny part of the universe when compared to God. Yet with God, the rationales of fabrication are ready and easy, excluding all doubt, and are very certain. How, then, will those who possess a sound mind appear to be reasonable when they grant that a human was made from one rib, but do not believe that he can be renewed from the material of a whole human being? It cannot be, it cannot be that the divine power in the performance of things can be explored and investigated by the stirrings of the human mind. For if all things could be perceived and comprehended by us, He who excels would not excel us. What do I say regarding God? We do not even compare in any way with the irrational animals regarding certain powers and faculties, but we are even inferior to them. Do not go further; horses, dogs, and many other animals surpass us in running; likewise, camels and mules surpass us in strength, donkeys in the recognition of paths, and the keenness of vision and sharpness of eyes that gazelles possess is not found in our eyes.

^A Therefore, it is the part of candid, grateful, and sound-minded men to have faith in the things that are spoken by God; but as for the modes and causes of His actions and works, since they exceed our understanding, one ought not to demand them. For it will be said to any of these inquisitive people: "Show me by your own reason and speech how these things that we see were brought into essence. Tell me by what art He created this multiform work." For if you search for these things and discover them, you justly hesitate, perplexed and entangled, and you are angry and indignant that you are ignorant of the transformation of regeneration, you who are not ignorant of the reason for generation. But if those things are to you nothing more than a dream and a fantasy, and knowledge of them is hard to attain from every side, do not be indignant if, when you are ignorant of the reason for their construction, you also do not perceive the correction of that which has been corrupted. The same craftsman is the author of both the first creation and the second transformation. He knows how He will again join together His own work, which has undergone dissolution, and bring it back to its original state. If there is need of wisdom, the fountain of wisdom is with Him; if there is need of power and strength, He has no need of a partner or an assistant. This is He who, according to the voice of the most wise prophet, hath measured out the water with His hand, and with a span the great and ^B boundless heaven, and the earth in His fist. Observe the images, which provide evident signs of an ineffable power, inducing despair in our reasoning that we are able to imagine anything worthy of the nature of God. He both is and is called Omnipotent. For perhaps you will not struggle against this, but will grant that it holds true as accepted knowledge. And to One who can do all things, nothing is perplexed, nothing is such that it cannot be explained or brought to completion. You have many pledges of faith which necessarily compel you to assent to the things said by us: first, the whole varied and complex creation, which proclaims more clearly and significantly than the voice of any herald that He who fashioned the things that are seen is a great and wise craftsman. And since God is provident toward this creation, and also looks from afar upon the souls of the unbelievers, He confirmed the resurrection of the dead by the deed itself, having restored the soul to many bodies of those who had died. For this reason Lazarus, already four days dead, leapt from the sepulcher; and that only son of the widow, from the bier on which he was being carried out, was called back to the living and restored to his mother; and ten thousand others whom it would be tiresome to enumerate now. What shall I say about God and the Savior, ^C when, in order that those who doubt might be even more affected and moved, He granted to His servants, the apostles, the power of raising the dead? The demonstration, therefore, is clear and manifest. And why, you contentious ones, do you cause us trouble, as if we were authors of arguments that cannot be demonstrated? As one was raised, so also ten; as the ten, so three hundred; as three hundred, so also many. For the craftsman of one statue will easily be the creator of ten thousand. Have you not seen the mechanics, how they remodel the shapes and forms of great and marvelous structures in a little wax? And the rationale in the small has the same power in the many and great constructions. Great is the heaven, a skillful work of God. And since God created man as a rational animal...

^A so that by the comprehension of his works he might glorify their wise and skillful maker, you may see the astronomer’s small sphere—moved, however, in the hand of the expert just as the heaven is moved by God—and the smallest construction becomes an image of the great creation; and in small things the reason interprets the sublime things that exceed our perception. But why did I recount these things? In order that you may know that if you also ask me how the resurrection of bodies that have existed from the beginning of time will come to pass, you may quickly hear: How was the four-day-old Lazarus raised? For it is manifest that he who is sound in mind will accept, in the many, the same assurance that is accepted in the one. Assuming God is the one who acts, you will say that nothing is impossible; nor should you think that the wisdom of the Incomprehensible can be grasped by your own intellect. For to Him nothing is infinite, whereas to you the things pertaining to the question of the infinite are inscrutable and unsearchable. ^B We shall see this argument well if, in addition to what has been said, we examine and seek out the mode of our own generation—not that first and most ancient one provided and established by God, of which these things have been spoken above, but that which is accomplished by nature consistently up to this present time. For this is inexplicable and inaccessible to human thought. For by what rationale, when the matter is wet, raw, and formless, does the seed grow into a head, harden and solidify into shins and ribs, and effect a tender and porous brain, and the bone that contains it, so hard and resistant, and the varied construction of the animal—to speak briefly, lest I be excessive in pursuing each detail individually? As, therefore, the seed, existing formless at the beginning, is fashioned into a shape and grows into masses, being prepared by the ineffable art of God; so it is not only not discordant or absurd, but even highly consistent and probable, that the matter which is in the sepulchers, which at one time existed in form, should again be renewed into its pristine shape and the dust again become a man, just as he certainly obtained his generation from it at the beginning. Let us concede to God the ability to accomplish as much as the potter is able; for let us consider what the latter does. Taking raw and formless clay, he makes it into a vessel, and placing this before the sun's rays, he dries and hardens it. The object being fashioned or formed is, for example, a pitcher, a bowl, or a jar; but if something should fall upon it carelessly and overturn it, it collapses and is broken, and becomes formless earth, losing its shape. But the craftsman, if he so wills, quickly corrects and remakes that which was corrupted by chance, and again...

^A by his art in molding the clay, he makes a vessel no worse than the first. And yet this potter is but a small creature of God’s power, and God is not believed when He promises that He will renew the dead? Much folly is it to make such a pronouncement.

Let us also consider the example of the wheat, by which the all-wise Paul instructs the foolish, saying: "Fool, what you sow is not the body that is to be, but a bare grain, as it may happen, of wheat or of some of the other seeds; but God gives it a body as He has willed." Let us attend closely to the generation of wheat, and perhaps we shall be taught the account of the resurrection. The wheat is cast into the earth. It decays in the moisture, and, as one might say, it dies, and passes into a certain milky substance, which, having thickened a little, becomes a sharp and white center; and when it has grown enough to emerge from the earth, it changes gradually from white to a verdant green. Then it becomes grass and the foliage of the clods; and spreading out over them and scattered moderately, it nourishes the root below with many divisions, preparing a support and aid for the weight to come. And just as the masts of ships are stretched on all sides by ^B many cables, so that they may remain firm, balanced by the tension of the ropes, so too the cord-like outgrowths of the root become both the support and the stays of the ears of corn. When the wheat rises into a stalk and strives to reach for height, God reinforces it with knees and nodes, securing it like a building with joints, for the sake of the expected weight of the foliage. Then, when the strength is prepared, having split the sheath, it brings forth the ear. And there again are greater miracles. For the wheat is constructed growing in rows, and each of the grains has its own special storeroom; and lastly, the beards are cast out, sharp and thin—weapons, I think, against the seed-stealing birds, so that being pricked by their points, they may cease to damage the fruit. Do you see how much of a miracle one grain that has decayed contains, and how, though it fell alone, it rises with many? ^C But man receives nothing more than he had; he receives what he already possessed, and for this reason our renewal appears easier than that which happens in the agriculture of wheat.

From there, pass to the notion of trees, how winter is for them each year instead of death. For the fruit falls, the leaf drops, and the wood remains dry and stripped of every grace. But when the time of spring arrives, a most pleasing flower grows upon them, and after the flower comes the covering of leaves; and then, as a fair sight, it draws to itself the eyes of men, and becomes a workshop for singing birds, which sit upon the petals, and a marvelous grace shines about them; so that many have even left their homes decorated with gold and Thessalian and Dacian stone, and have preferred instead the life for themselves beneath the trees. ^D For this reason, also, the patriarch Abraham pitched his tent under an oak—not, surely, because he lacked a house, but rejoicing in the pleasure of the branches.

^A The life of serpents also leads me to a confirmation of my proposed argument. Vital energy in those creatures is deadened during the winter season, and for the six months they lie hidden in their dens, completely motionless. But when the appointed time arrives, and thunder is heard in the world, they perceive it as a sort of signal of life, and rapidly leap out, and after a long interval they perform their customary activities. What is the logic behind this? Let the investigator and scout of God’s works tell me, and instruct me, by what reasoning he concedes that snakes are revived from the dead by the crash of thunder, but does not admit that men, at the sound of the trumpet of God resounding from heaven, can receive back their soul and be vivified, just as Divine Scripture says: *For the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall rise again* (1 Cor. xv, 52). And elsewhere more clearly: *And he shall send his angels with a great trumpet blast, and shall gather together his elect* (Matt. xxiv, 31).

Ne ^B get us not, therefore, distrust changes and renewals. For the life of plants and diverse animals, and indeed of humans themselves, teaches us that nothing subject to generation and corruption remains in the same state, but is constantly being turned and changed into something else. And first, if you please, let us observe and consider the change that occurs within our own ages. We know well what a nursing babe is like. A short time later, he gains the power to crawl, and differs not at all from little puppies, supporting himself on four limbs. Around the third year, it happens that he walks upright and tall, and emits a voice that is in some way stammering, lisping, hesitant, and impeded: then he articulates and pronounces words perfectly, and becomes a charming young boy and child: from that age he emerges into a beardless youth; then, as down covers his cheeks and chin, he becomes bearded and hairy, one stage after another; finally, he becomes a fully adult man, rough and capable of toil. When forty years have passed, the beginning of the decline arrives, and greyness little by little whitens the head, and strength declines toward infirmity, and at last comes old age, the final abolition of vigor. The body bends and curves toward the earth, just like ears of grain that have withered too much: what once was straight and light becomes wrinkled and contracted, and he who had once stood out in the vigor of his age and strength becomes a child again, stammering, foolish, wandering in mind, crawling on hands and feet just as before. ^C What do all these things seem to you? Is it not an alteration? Are these not various mutations? Are these not diverse novelties that transform the mortal animal even before death? Furthermore, how could our sleep and wakefulness not become, for the wise man, a lesson concerning what is sought? For sleep is an image of death; waking is a likeness of the resurrection. For this reason, some of the wise men from outside have called sleep the brother of death, because of the similarity of the conditions that occur from both. For forgetfulness is the same in both, and the ignorance of the

past and of the future happens in either. The body lies without sensation, knowing no friend, ignoring any enemy, seeing neither those standing around nor those looking on; it is ^A relaxed, dead, devoid of all vital activity, and in no way different from those things that have been deposited in tombs and graves. Wherefore if you wish, you can even rob the sleeper as if he were dead; you can empty the house and strip it bare, you can cast chains upon him, and yet none of the things being done is perceived by his senses.

But a little while later, when some respite or relaxation of the condition occurs, the person rises up as if having just been created alive; gradually he returns to a consciousness of himself and of things, slowly resuming his activities, being, as it were, resuscitated by the rekindling of wakefulness. If, while the living creature still exists and is present, so many night-time and day-time trances, alterations, ^B changes, fits of forgetfulness, and recoveries are fixed in human life, it is most foolish and contentious not to believe God, who promises the final renewal, since He is the one who also fashioned our first formation.

Now, that which especially armors those who gainsay and makes them prepared for unbelief is, as I think, this above all: the thinking that a complete annihilation of bodies takes place. But it is not so. For it is not completely annihilated, but it is dissolved into the things from which it was composed; and it is in water, in air, in earth, and in fire. Since the primary elements remain, and those things which after dissolution have joined with them, in which the parts in their entirety are preserved, it is most easy for God—not only to create from things that do not exist (for ^C thus did all things receive their genesis in the beginning)—but to form things from the existing building blocks of nature, which is surely much more easy and simple. Let us not, therefore, destroy the noble hope of mankind, the correction of our weakness, and the second birth, if one might call it such, that is free from death, nor let us insult the good and philanthropic promise of God through an excess of love of pleasure.

For to me it seems that those who are opposed to the subject at hand are friends of vice and enemies of virtue, lecherous and avaricious, and intemperate in their eyes, and in their hearing and smell, and in all their senses, drawing in upon themselves the pleasure that flows toward them.

Since the discourse of the resurrection has the judgment set before it, and they hear the sacred books stating expressly that our life is not exempt from inquiry and examination, ^D but that when we have been renewed to the other life, it will come to pass that we shall all be presented before the tribunal of Christ so as to receive at the hands of that Judge the returns for our way of life according to their worth—they, being conscious to themselves of most shameful deeds, worthy of many punishments, abolish the resurrection out of hatred for the judgment. Just like those wicked servants who, having squandered their master's estate and being destined for death and ruin at their lord's hand, invent empty reasonings for their own desires.

^A But no person of sound mind would think this way. For what is the benefit of justice, and truth, and goodness, and every excellence? For what sake do men toil and practice philosophy, mastering the pleasure of the belly, embracing continence and temperance, indulging in sleep for only a brief time, and enduring cold and heat, if there is no resurrection? Let us say with the words of Paul: "Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die." If there is no resurrection, and death is the end of life, then take away from me accusations and censures; give the murderer the authority to act without hindrance; allow the adulterer to plot against marriages with boldness; let the greedy rich man insult his adversaries; let no one restrain the reviler; let the perjurer swear constantly, for death awaits the just, the religious, the pious, and the observer of oaths alike. Let everyone lie as much as they wish, for there is no fruit of truth. Let no one pity the poor, for mercy is without wages. ^B Such sentiments and thoughts introduce a confusion worse than the flood; they cast out all sound reason and sharpen and confirm whatever madness and robbery may be imagined. For if there is no resurrection, then neither is there judgment; and if judgment is abolished, then the fear of God is cast out along with it. And where fear does not restrain, nor keep men in their duty, there the devil dances with sin and leads the chorus. And very fittingly and aptly, David wrote that psalm against such people: "The fool has said in his heart: There is no God. They are corrupt, and have become abominable in their pursuits." If there is no resurrection, then Lazarus and the rich man are a fable, as are the fearful chasm, the unbearable burning and inflammation of the fire, the burning tongue, the longed-for drop of water, and the finger of the beggar. ^C For it is evident that all these things depict for us the future resurrection. For the tongue and the finger are not understood as members of the incorporeal soul, but as parts of the body. And let no one think that these things have already occurred, but that it is a prediction of what is to come; it will happen then, when the transformation, having restored life to the dead, brings each person to account for their life, being composed just as before, consisting of both soul and body. Furthermore, the God-inspired Ezekiel, that spectator of great visions, to what purpose was he led when he saw that great and widely stretching plain filled with human bones, over which he was commanded to prophesy? ^D Flesh was immediately formed over them, and what had been dissolved and scattered in disorder was gathered and knit together into proper order and composition. Is it not clear that through such words he sufficiently indicates to us the resurrection of this flesh? But those who hold contentiously to this argument seem to me not only impious, but also deranged. For the terms "resurrection," "revivification," "transformation," and all such names, carry the concept towards the body which is subject to corruption. As for the soul itself according to

if it be examined and tested by itself, it will never rise, since it does not die but is exempt from destruction and corruption. Since it is immortal, it has a mortal body as a partner in its actions; and therefore, before the just judge, at the time of the rendering of accounts, it will again dwell with its partner, so that it may receive with it common punishments or rewards. ^B But in order that our argument may be more consistent, let us consider the matter in this way: what do we call a human being? The two combined, or one of the two separately? But it is manifest that the union of the two characterizes the living creature. For it is not fitting to use superfluous language regarding matters that are known and contain no controversy. Since this is so, let us further consider this as well: whether the things that men commit and perpetrate—for example, adultery, murder, theft, and whatever is akin to these, or, on the contrary, sobriety, continence, and every action opposed to vice—we call the effects of both, or whether we restrict the actions to the soul alone?

But even in this, the truth is manifest. For nowhere does the soul, separated from the body, either practice theft or break through walls; nor, on the other hand, does it alone give bread to the hungry, or provide drink to the thirsty, or willingly hasten to the prison to minister to him who is afflicted in prison. ^C But in every action, both are yoked together to one another and mutually accomplish what is done. How then, since these things are so, and you concede that there will be a judgment of the things done in life, do you tear one away from the other? And since they are partners in what has been accomplished, do you restrict the court of judgment to the soul alone? But if one were to be an accurate judge of human transgressions, and were to examine carefully whence the first causes of sin arise, perhaps he would first find the body to be in the wrong in the crimes. For when the soul is often at rest and possesses undisturbed calm, the eye, moved by passion, sees things which it would have been better not to have seen, and having transmitted the disease to the soul, changes its quiet into storm and turbulence. ^D Likewise, the ears, having listened to certain shameless or provocative words, pour into the thoughts, as if through certain conduits, the mire of turbulence or of disorder. There are also times when the nose, through its sense of smell and the attraction of vapors, causes great and unspeakable evils to the inner man. The hands, too, know how to weaken the strength of a robust soul through physical touch. And as I proceed thus little by little and examine it, I find the body to be the cause of a large part of many sins. Yet it also endures labors for the sake of virtue, and toils and is afflicted in the struggles for noble things, while it is cut by iron, scorched by fire, scourged by whips, laden with grievous bonds, and undergoes every injury, so that it may not betray the sacred philosophy, like some city with beautiful towers besieged by the war of vice. If, therefore, it toils with the soul in good deeds, and

does not remain absent in its sins, by what reasons and arguments do you bring only the incorporeal soul into judgment? But this is neither a just speech nor one of sound men. If it sinned alone and naked, let it be punished alone; but if it has a manifest accomplice, a just judge will not dismiss him. ^D Now I also hear Scripture teaching this, that just punishments will be inflicted upon those who are condemned: fire, and darkness, and the worm. For all these are punishments and torments of composite and material bodies; but fire would never touch the soul by itself, nor would darkness trouble it, as it is deprived of eyes and the instruments of sight. And what would the worm do, which has a corrupting force upon bodies, not spirits? And therefore, we are compelled from all sides by these consistent considerations and reasonings to the acceptance of the resurrection of the dead, which God will accomplish at the proper times, confirming His own promises by the very facts. Let us, therefore, believe Him who says: For the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall rise; and again: The hour is coming, in which all who are in their graves will hear His voice, and those who have done good will come forth to a resurrection of life, but those who have done evil to a resurrection of judgment. For He does not promise only, but also by the works which He performs daily, He teaches clearly ^B that He is omnipotent. For He neither laboured and became weary in the beginning while creating, nor will He lack wisdom in transforming. Let us consider the present, and we shall not withhold faith from the future. For since every divine act involves wonder and astonishment, then it is a great and inexplicable miracle when we see the likenesses of fathers and ancestors transitioning exactly into the forms of their descendants, and the children becoming as it were casts from their ancestors. Then, indeed, I am struck with overwhelming wonder at the all-wise craftsmanship of the ^C most excellent Artificer, God, and Saviour, how the imitations of those archetypes, which neither exist nor are apparent, are created and formed in an ineffable mystery, raising up, as it were, other persons who are dead through the efficacy of their forms. Often, moreover, the properties of many persons are expressed and formed together in one body: the nose of the father, the eye of the grandfather, the gait of the uncle, the sound of the voice and speech of the mother. And one man is viewed as a certain plant, which, having received in itself the grafted shoots of many trees, offers ^D also countless kinds of fruits to those picking and gathering them. All these things are indeed wonderful, and the manner in which they occur is unknown to us, but they are easy and ready for the Creator, and, as we know, are accomplished by Him with no difficulty. But it is very strange and ignorant, while admitting that the markings of bodies that have already rotted and perished are raised up in those growing from day to day, and that the traits of others pass into others, yet when it comes to the specific and peculiar traits of those who once possessed them, one does not agree that they are being renewed and brought back to life, but on the contrary, one invalidates and disputes this, and considers the promise a myth and not a rational account, on the part of Him who established all this that is seen and

adorned it as He willed. We, however, believe in the resurrection, rendering glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

ORATION IV. On the Holy and Saving Feast of Pascha.

The true rest of the Sabbath, which received the blessing of God, in which the Lord rested from His works, having been idle after breaking the efficacy of death for the salvation of the world, now has an end; and He has demonstrated His own grace to our eyes, to our ears, and to our heart—the feast having been accomplished for us through all these things by which we saw, by which we heard, and by which we received joy into our heart. For that which was seen by the eyes—the light—was borne along for us in the night by the cloud of fire through the lamps. The word that resounded through the entire night ^B to our ears in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, flowing into the soul through the hearing like a stream of joy, filled us with good hopes. And the heart, gladdened by the things being spoken and seen, was shaped into an ineffable blessedness, being led by the hand through the things that appeared to Him who cannot be seen. Thus, the good things of this rest are an image ^C of those good things—those which neither eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor have they ascended into the heart of man—confirming through themselves the ineffable hope of those things that are laid up for us. Since, therefore, this night is luminous, having mingled the rays of the lamps with the morning beams of the sun and made one continuous day, not divided by the interposition of darkness, let us consider, brethren, the prophecy that says: *This is the day which the Lord has made.* In which the work proposed is not anything heavy or difficult to accomplish, ^D but is joy and gladness and exultation; the Scripture speaking thus: *Let us exult and rejoice in it.* O noble things! O sweet legislation! Who would delay to obey such commands? And who would not consider the delay of these things for even a short time a loss? The work is gladness, and the command is exultation; by which the condemnation for sin is dissolved, and painful things are transformed into joy.

This is the notable saying of wisdom, that on a day of gladness there is an oblivion of evils. This day has brought about a forgetting of the first sentence pronounced against us—or rather, an abolition, not a forgetting. For it has blotted out and, as it were, erased every memory of the condemnation made against us. Then, childbirth was in sorrows; now, the birth occurs without the pangs of labor. Then, we were born as flesh from flesh; now, that which is born is spirit of the spirit. Then, we were sons of man; now, we have been born as children of God. Then, unto the earth we were released; now, the heavenly One and His heavenly followers...

as well. Then, through sin death reigned; now, conversely, righteousness receives the empire through life. Then, one gave place for death to enter; through one, now, life is also introduced. Then, through death we fell away from life; now, by Life, death is destroyed. Then, for shame we hid ourselves under the fig tree; now, through glory we approach the tree of life. Then, on account of disobedience we were cast out of paradise; now, through faith we are admitted into paradise. Once again, the fruit of life is spread before us for our enjoyment at will. Once again, the fountain of paradise, divided fourfold by the evangelical rivers, irrigates the entire face of the Church, so that even the furrows of our souls—which He who sows the seed of the word has cut with the plow of doctrine—are inebriated, and the seedlings and fruits of virtue are multiplied. What, then, is it fitting to do in view of these things? What else, but to imitate ^B the prophetic mountains and the hills in our leaping? For the mountains, he says, leaped like rams, and the hills like lambs of the flock. Come, therefore, let us exult in the Lord, who has broken the strength and power of the enemy and has raised up the great trophy of the cross for us in the ruin of the adversary. Let us shout; for a shout, or jubilance, is a propitious and joyful acclamation made by the victors against the vanquished. Since, therefore, the enemy’s battle line has been laid low, and that very one who held the empire of the wicked army of demons has perished, has been blotted out, and has now passed into non-existence, let us say that the Lord is a great God and a great King over all the earth, who has blessed the crown of the year of His goodness, and has led us into this ^C spiritual choir and assembly through Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory forever. Amen.

ORATION V. On the illustrious and holy resurrection of our Lord and God.

Blessed be God. Let us speak good words, and let us celebrate today the only-begotten Son of God, the true Creator of the heavenly hosts: He who emerged from the hidden recesses of the earth and covered the whole world with His most brilliant rays. Let us celebrate today the burial of the Only-Begotten, the resurrection of the Victor, the joy of the world, and the life of the nations of the world. Let us celebrate today Him who put on our sin. Let us celebrate today the Word of God, ^D who convicted the world’s wisdom, confirmed the prediction of the prophets, connected the bond of the apostles, and unfolded the calling of the Church and the grace of the Spirit. For behold, we who were once strangers to the knowledge of God have acknowledged God, and what was written long ago is fulfilled: All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord: and all the families of the nations shall worship in His sight.

^A What will they remember? The ancient fall, the new resurrection, the primal transgression, and the later correction; the death of Eve, the birth from the Virgin, the restoration of the nations, the forgiveness of sinners, the prophecy of the prophets, the preaching of the apostles, the regeneration of the font, the indwelling of paradise, the return to the heavens, the Creator arising, He who laid aside indecency, He who by divine magnificence exchanged the corruptible for incorruption. And what indecency did He lay aside? That which Isaiah spoke of in these words: *And we saw Him, and He had no form nor comeliness. But His appearance was dishonored, failing beyond the sons of men.* When was He dishonored? When He consorted with the wicked Jews, and was called a Samaritan and one possessed by a demon; when Judas Iscariot and the offspring of darkness laid hold of Him for slaughter, Him whom no place can contain. Not without reason did John say to them: *Offspring of vipers, who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?* For truly the wrath of God shall remain upon them. ^B When was He dishonored? When the bud of meekness received a blow, and when, amidst oaths, they interrogated Him who is the judge of oaths. When was He dishonored? When the Judge was being judged, and the Arbiter of the world was being condemned; when the servant questioned, and the Master was silent; when the Light rested, and the darkness exulted; when the creature acted boldly, and the Creator endured. When was He dishonored? When the bulls were horning and the calf stood by; when the lion roared and the bulls acted proudly, as it is written: *Many bulls have encompassed me, fat bulls have beset me round. They have opened their mouth against me, as a ravening and a roaring lion.* When was He dishonored? When the dogs barked, and the Lord did endure; when the wolves tore, and the sheep stood by; ^C when a robber was called to life, and the Life of the world was dragged to death; when they shouted that disordered and fatal cry: *Take him away, take him away, crucify him! His blood be on us and on our children!* The slayers of the Lord, the slayers of the prophets, the fighters against God, the haters of God, the despisers of the law, the enemies of grace, the strangers to the faith of the fathers, the advocates of the devil, the offspring of vipers, the whisperers, the backbiters, those darkened in their minds, the leaven of the Pharisees, the council of demons, the reprobates, the utterly base, the stone-throwers, the haters of virtue. For they cried out with reason: *Take him away, take him away, crucify him!* For the visitation of the divinity in the flesh was a burden to them, and the manner of His reproofs was grievous; ^D for it is the habit of sinners to hate the presence of the righteous. When was He dishonored? When they scourged Him, and tortured His holy body, which willingly bore the passion, that He might heal the ancient weals of our own sins; when the wood of the

cross was carried upon His shoulders as a trophy against the devil. ^A When they placed a crown of thorns upon Him who crowns those who trust in Him; when they clothed in purple Him who bestows incorruptibility upon those who are regenerated through water and the Holy Spirit; when they nailed to the wood the Lord of life and death. When was He inglorious? When the soldiers, mocking the commander of the heavenly host, led Him in triumph. When was He ignominious? When they attached a sponge to a reed, and soaking it in vinegar, gave Him a drink, and offered gall to Him who had rained down manna upon them in abundance; when the rocks were rent and the veil of the temple was torn, stunned by the audacity of the wicked; when the sun mourned and put on darkness like sackcloth, lamenting the ruin of the Jews. For the day itself lamented the hardships of the Jews, when Life hung in the midst of thieves; the one reviling and speaking against Him, while the other with repentance plundered paradise. When was He inglorious? When His body was given over to burial. When was He ignoble? When soldiers guarded Him, and the earth hid Him who had founded the earth upon the waters; when the apostles hid themselves, unable to bear the magnitude of the temptations. But see, beloved, the miracles of God, and after the passion, the success and progress of joy. The ignoble was changed into the glory of splendor, and the immortal joy of the world has been raised with the body. Then the earth travailed, and the day conceived, and death spewed forth the life of all. For it was not possible for Him who holds all things by His word to be held by death. ^C Let us therefore celebrate the resurrection that took place on the third day, the reconciler of eternal life. For just as Mary the Theotokos, with virginal and unwedded pangs not loosened, by the will of God and the grace of the Holy Spirit gave birth to the Creator of the ages, God the Word from God; so too did the earth, having loosed the pangs of death from its own depths, spew forth at the command the Master of the Jews; for it could not contain the body which had become the vehicle of immortality. Therefore, when the prophet David considered the restoration of beauty, the dissolution of death, and the freedom of those who were once slaves, he cries out and says: "The Lord has reigned, He has clothed Himself with beauty." What beauty did He clothe Himself with? Incorruption, immortality, the assembly of the apostles, the crown of the Church. No longer does Judas betray; no longer does Caiaphas threaten; no longer does Pilate judge, nor do the Israelites prevail. For what was corruptible has become incorrupt, and He who was esteemed by them as mere man ^D is demonstrated to be true God. Therefore we also cry out: "Where, O death, is thy sting? Where, O Hades, is thy victory?" The Lord has reigned, He has clothed Himself with beauty; the Lord has clothed Himself with power, and girded Himself. By power he means the dispensation of salvation through the flesh. For since nothing was stronger than that, through the body the Incorporeal cast down the demons; through the cross He laid siege to the opposing powers. For since the first things shook the

sin, having risen, our Lord Jesus Christ, just as He foretold, strengthened it with the wood of the cross, so that it might no longer walk toward the slide of perdition, nor be tossed about by the storms of error. ^A Let us bring forward as a witness to this word the blessed Paul, who says simply: "For this corruptible thing must put on incorruption." Therefore, the Psalmist also says: "Thy throne is prepared from then; Thou art from eternity." And, "Thy kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, which shall not be corrupted." And again, "Thy kingdom is the kingdom of all ages." And again, "The Lord hath reigned; let the earth rejoice, let many islands be glad." For to Him belong glory and power. Amen.

BY THE SAME

ON THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST

WHICH IS CALLED BY THE CUSTOM OF THE CAPPADOCIANS

THE FESTIVAL CELEBRATION.

^C How sweet a companion of human life is the prophet David, being found in all the paths of life, and being aptly mingled with all spiritual ages, assisting every order of those who are progressing! ^D He plays with those who are infants in God, he struggles alongside men, he instructs the youth, he supports old age; he becomes all things to all men—the armor of soldiers, the trainer of athletes, the wrestling school for those who compete, the crown of the victors, the merriment at feasts, the consolation at funerals. There is no part of our life that is devoid of this grace. What power of prayer is there in which David does not participate? What festal joy is there which the Prophet does not brighten? This is what we are able to see even now; as he makes the festival, which is great in itself, even greater through his own presence, by fittingly adding to the subject the [words] from the psalms

^A when he brought with him cheerfulness. For in the one [Psalm], he commands you to become a sheep pastured by God, and lacking in none of the good things: for whom the good Shepherd becomes grass of pasture, and water of rest, and food, and tent, and path, and guidance, and everything, distributing his own grace fittingly for every need. By all of which he instructs the Church that you must first become a sheep of the good Shepherd, being led by good catechesis toward the divine pastures and fountains of teachings, in order to be buried with him through baptism into death, and not to fear such a death. For this is not death, but a shadow and a likeness of death. "For if I should walk," he says, "in the midst of the shadow of death, I will not fear" that what is happening is an evil, "because thou art with me." After this, having comforted with the rod of the Spirit—for the Paraclete is the Spirit—he sets forth the mystical table, prepared in opposition to the table of demons. For those were the ones who, through idolatry, were crushing the life of men; in opposition to them is the table of the Spirit. Then he anoints the head with the oil of the Spirit, and having added to it the wine that gladdens the heart, he induces that sober intoxication in the soul, staying its thoughts from transient things toward the eternal; for he who has tasted of such intoxication exchanges the short-lived for the unending, extending his stay in the house of the Lord to the length of days. Having granted us these things in one of the Psalms, he rouses the soul toward a greater and more perfect joy in the next Psalm; and, if it seems good, let us set before you the meaning of this one also, summarizing it in a few words. "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof." What new thing happens, then, O man, if our God was seen on earth, and conversed with men? For the earth is a creation of his, because it is also a handiwork. Therefore, it is nothing strange, nor outside what is fitting, for the Master to come to his own; for he is not present in a foreign world, but in one which he himself established and fashioned, he who founded the earth upon the seas, and prepared it to be well-placed by the course of the rivers. For what purpose, then, was his coming? That, having cast you out of the gulfs of sin, he might lead you up to the mountain, ^D using as a chariot for the ascent the way of life according to virtue. For it is not possible to ascend to that mountain unless you have joined virtues as your companions, and have become innocent in your hands, and unstained by any wicked deed, but pure in heart, bringing your soul to no vanity, nor contriving any deceit for your neighbor. The reward of this ascent is blessing; to this man the Lord grants the mercy laid up for him. "This is the generation of them that seek him," of those who ascend to the height through virtue, and seek the face of the God of Jacob. The remaining part of the psalm is perhaps even more lofty than the evangelical teaching itself. For the Gospel narrated the Lord's way of life on earth and his sojourn. But this lofty one

the Prophet, ^A emerging beyond himself, as if unburdened by the weight of the body, and having mingled himself with the heavenly powers, details for us their utterances when they, escorting the Lord on his descent, command the earthly angels—those entrusted with human life—to open the entrances, saying: "Lift up your gates, you princes, and be lifted up, you eternal gates, and the King of glory shall enter in." And since, wherever he may be who contains all things in himself, he makes himself proportionate to those who receive him; for he does not only become a man among men, but, as is consistent, when he comes among angels, he also lowers himself to their nature; for this reason the gatekeepers inquire of the one who reveals: "Who is this King of glory?" ^B For which reason they point out to them the one who is mighty and strong in battle, who was about to grapple with him who had held human nature captive in slavery, and to overthrow him who had the power of death; so that, the last enemy being destroyed, the human race might be recalled to liberty and peace. Again he details the similar utterances; for the mystery of death has already been fulfilled, and victory over the enemies has been achieved, and the trophy of the cross against them has been raised; and again he ascended on high, leading captivity captive, having given life and the kingdom, these good gifts, to men. And the portals above must again be opened to him. Our own guardians receive the escort, and command the portals above to be opened to him, that he might again be glorified in them. ^C But he is not recognized, having covered himself with the filthy garment of our life, whose robes are red from the winepress of human evils. For this reason, that inquisitive voice from them arises toward those who are escorting: "Who is this King of glory?" Then, their answer is no longer: "The mighty and strong in battle," but: "The Lord of hosts," who has taken the sovereignty of the world, who has summed up all things in himself, who holds the preeminence in all things, who has restored all things to their original creation—he is the King of glory. ^D See how David has made the festival sweeter for us, by mingling his own grace with the joy of the Church. Therefore, let us also imitate the Prophet, in as far as it is possible for us to achieve this imitation, in love toward God, in the gentleness of life, in patience toward those who pursue us with hatred; that the teaching of the Prophet may become to us a guide and mistress for living well and blessed, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom is the glory for ever and ever. Amen.

BY THE SAME: ORATION ON THE HOLY SPIRIT: OR, ON PENTECOST

^A David himself renders the subject of any festive celebration more illustrious, as he always adapts that most sweet harp of his, fittingly, to the occasion. Therefore, since the Spirit is struck by the plectrum of wisdom upon the lyre, may the same Prophet also illuminate for us the great feast of Pentecost by playing, through the movement of the Spirit, the melody upon the strings of wisdom. ^B Let him therefore say, from that divinely-inspired melody, what is appropriate for the present grace: "Come, let us exult in the Lord" (Ps. xciv. 1). But first, it is necessary to know what this benefit of God is, and then the prophetic words must be applied to the theme of our oration; and may you allow me, in order, to explain as well as I am able those things which pertain to this subject.

At the beginning, mankind had wandered away from the knowledge of God; and having abandoned the Lord of all things, some through deception were bowing down to the cosmic elements, others were considering the nature of demons worthy of veneration, and to many, even the hand-made forms of idols appeared to be divine entities, to whose worship they had dedicated altars, temples, sacred rites, victims, shrines, and other things of this kind. ^C The Lord of nature, therefore, looked upon the corrupted nature of mankind with kind eyes, and by certain degrees, as it were, recalled human life from error to the knowledge of the truth. For, just as those who restore people who have been worn down by long-term famine according to the prescriptions of the medical art, and out of concern for their weakness do not immediately provide them with food to the point of satiety, but after they have recovered their strength through a moderate diet, they then finally grant them the power to fill themselves at their own discretion: so too, when the human race had been consumed by a horrific famine, so to speak, Divine Providence dispensed the food of the mysteries in this manner, so that day by day, little by little, and

by means of an orderly succession, we might always participate in the perfect until we arrive at the goal of perfection. For the power that saves us is the life-giving power, believed in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. But since men—incapable of grasping the whole because of the infirmity of their souls, which had been contracted as if by famine—had been turned by the prophets and the law from the prior worship of many gods, they were accustomed to look to one divinity and to perceive in that one divinity only the power of the Father, being incapable, as I said, of the perfect food. Then, through the Gospel, the Only-begotten Son ^B is revealed to those who had been perfected by the law; after this, the perfect food of our nature arrives for us: the Holy Spirit, in whom is life. This is the theme of the festival; and for this reason it is fitting that we, having become dancers for the Spirit, should obey the leader of this spiritual 6 dance, David, who says: "Come, let us exult in the Lord." And "the Lord is the Spirit," as the Apostle says.

For today, as the annual period of the year completes the fifty days, at this very hour—if we are indeed at the third hour of the day—the indescribable grace occurred. For the Spirit was again mingled with men—the Spirit that had previously departed from our nature because man had become flesh—and by that violent wind, the spiritual powers of wickedness and all the filthy demons were scattered from the air. In the descent of the Spirit, those who had been left behind in the upper room were filled with divine power in the form of fire; for it is not possible for anyone to become a participant of the Holy Spirit unless one dwells in the upper room of this life. For those who set their minds on the things that are above, having transferred their citizenship from earth to heaven, and being inhabitants of the upper room of the exalted life, become participants of the Holy Spirit. For the history of the Acts ^C says that when they were gathered in the upper room, that pure and immaterial fire was divided into the forms of tongues, according to the number of the disciples. They, therefore, spoke to Parthians, and Medes, and Elamites, and the other nations, adjusting their own voices with authority to every native language. But I, as the Apostle says, would rather speak five words in the Church with my mind, so that I might also benefit others, than ten thousand words in a tongue. For at that time it was useful for the speaker to be of one voice with those of different languages, so that the preaching might not be ineffective for those who did not understand, hampered by the sound of the preachers; but now, since the ^D uniformity of language…

^A is no longer present, we must seek out the fiery tongue of the Spirit, by which we may illuminate those who wander in darkness through error. And here let David take the lead for us, and join the Apostle to himself as his companion. For in this psalm, whose beginning provides us with a pattern for exulting in the Lord, saying, "Come, let us exult in the Lord," we are not only moved to celebrate the praises of the Holy Spirit; but rather, we are taught about his divinity from the things that follow. I will bring before you the very words of the Prophet, to which the great Apostle also gives his assent, and they are these: "Today if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts, as in the provocation, according to the day of temptation in the desert, where your fathers tempted me" ^B. Making mention of these, the divine Apostle says, "Therefore, as the Holy Spirit says" 5; and having prefaced this, he immediately brings forward these words of the Prophet, attributing them to the person of the Holy Spirit. Who then is it whom their fathers tempted in the desert? Who is it whom they provoked? Learn from the Prophet himself, who says: "They tempted the most high God" 6. Yet the Apostle, having introduced the person of the Holy Spirit, assigns these same words to him, saying: "Therefore, as the Holy Spirit says: According to the day of temptation in the desert, where your fathers tempted me."

Whatever most high God the Prophet named, therefore, this the divine Apostle asserts to be the Holy Spirit. And if you do not believe that this is true, consider again what has been said: "Therefore, as the Holy Spirit says, Do not harden your hearts, as in the ^C provocation, according to the day of temptation in the desert, where your fathers tempted me." If, therefore, the Holy Spirit says, "Your fathers tempted me in the desert," and the Prophet testifies that he who was tempted in the desert is the most high God, then the mouths of those who rashly oppose the Holy Spirit and speak iniquity against God are stopped, since clearly both the Apostle and the Prophet, in the things we have spoken of, proclaim the divinity of the Holy Spirit. For the Prophet, while he says, "They tempted the most high God," and, as if putting on the person of God, addresses the Israelites with those words, "In the desert your fathers tempted me," and the great Paul, while he attributes these same words to the Holy Spirit, so that from these it is plainly manifest that the Holy Spirit is the most high God. Do they then see, those who oppose the glory of the Spirit, the fiery tongue of the sacred ^D oracles, which illuminates what was obscure? Or shall we, like those filled with new wine...

enlightening, or will they mock those who are full of this new wine? But I, even if they speak these things against us, advise you, brothers, not to fear the taunts of such people, nor to be overcome by their disparagement. For would that ^A even to them there might one day come this new wine, this freshly pressed wine, poured out from the winepress which the Lord trod by means of the Gospel, so that he might give to you the blood of His own vine to drink. Would that they too might be filled with this new wine—which they called "must"—which has not been adulterated by the tavern-keepers with the admixture of heretical water. For truly, they too would have been filled with the Spirit, by whose power those who are fervent in spirit purge from themselves the thick and muddy dregs of unbelief. But such people cannot receive this new wine within themselves, since they still carry around the old wineskin, which, unable to contain such wine, is rent asunder by a heretical rupture. But we, brothers—as the Prophet says—come, let us rejoice in the Lord, drinking also the sweetness of piety, as Esdras enjoins, and rejoicing in the choirs of the apostles and prophets, let us glory and be glad in the gift of the Holy Spirit on this day which the Lord has made, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory forever. Amen.

BY THE SAME¶ENCOMIUM ON SAINT STEPHEN THE FIRST MARTYR

^C How beautiful is the sequence of good things! How sweet is the succession of gladness! For behold, we receive feast upon feast, and grace for grace. Yesterday, the Master of all fed us; today, the imitator of the Master.

How is this one ^A or how is that one? The former, by putting on human nature for our sake; the latter, by putting off human nature for His sake. The former, by entering for our sake the cave of life; the latter, by departing from the cave for His sake. The former, by being wrapped in swaddling clothes for us; the latter, by being stoned for Him. The former, by destroying death; the latter, by trampling upon death as it lies prostrate. Truly, brothers, let us also run in word to the theater where that great athlete labors and prepares for the struggle against the wicked adversary of human life in the arena of confession. For in truth, according to the voice of Paul ^B (1 Cor. iv, 9), the great Stephen was made a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men, who—first to be garlanded and adorned with the "Stephen," that is, the crown of confession—made an entrance for the chorus of martyrs; who was the first to resist sin even to the point of bloodshed. And it seems to me that the entire army of those above the world, and every legion of angels, as many as are ministering and standing by—and if we hear of any others endowed with dignity in the supernal regions, who reside in principalities, and powers, and thrones, and dominions—and the entire heavenly assembly had at that time proposed to themselves the sight of the athlete struggling with his adversary. ^C For human life lay open like a certain arena to the contestants; both pressed on, mutually hostile to one another—on one side, the wicked adversary of human life, exercised in the victories gained over men from the first fall of the created humans down to the times of Stephen; on the other side, that great athlete of the faith, counting the onset of the adversary as nothing. But the weapons for both against one another were: for the inventor of death, the terror of death; and for the disciple of life, the confession of the faith. For who would not have admired this new form of contest, when the truth was being judged by life and death, and death became the proof of the truth? For the herald of the hidden faith and the unknown life was proclaiming the message to men by his deed; ^D for by the fact that he abandoned this life without burden and without hesitation, it was demonstrated to those who judge rightly that the life which was being left behind was being exchanged for one that is more excellent. But it will not be inconvenient, as if on a tablet, to depict the struggle accurately in speech, so that the order of the miracles might be suitably demonstrated through the sequence of the events. For recently, that violent and vehement blast borne from above, having scattered and dispersed all the aerial and deceitful hosts of the demons, had filled the dwelling of the apostles; and the Spirit, divided in the form of fiery tongues, had rested upon each one according to the number of those receiving the gift. And now, astonishment and confusion had seized those who, having set out from every nation, were residing in Jerusalem at the unexpected and unheard-of miracle of voice and tongue, as all who had been divided into various and diverse forms of languages had suddenly become of the same tongue as the disciples, when no previous discipline or training [had taken place], but rather from the inspiration…

of the Spirit and by this gift ^A represented in an instant, the faculty of speaking had come to the apostles. For it was fitting that those who—in the building of the tower on earth—had dissolved the communion of language and the concord of voice, should again, in the spiritual building of the Church, come into an exchange of language; and therefore the dispensation of the grace of the Holy Spirit rightly begins from this point, so that the common benefit of mankind might be distributed into every understanding of the human tongue, lest if the preaching of piety were confined to one language alone, it should remain ^B ineffectual and useless to men of a different language.

Now when the Pharisees, not even believing their own ears, were mocking and contending that others who were astonished by the miracle were deceived, as if sweet wine had produced in them such madness and frenzy; and when Peter, by one embrace of his discourse, had as if by a net brought three thousand souls to Christ, and the Church subsequently grew in number and multitude by the constant addition of those who were being saved; and when he who had been lame from birth had again opened the Beautiful gate of the temple to those who were being saved, ^C sitting by which he had led those who were lame in soul to faith by the miracle of his own healing: when, therefore, many were flowing together to the preaching of the faith, and the need demanded a greater number of hands to minister to the grace, then Stephen, who abounded in wisdom and grace, was called by the Spirit to the aid of the apostles. And let no one, moved by the name of “ministry,” suspect that he held a place inferior to the apostolic dignity; since even Paul acknowledges himself a minister of the mysteries of Christ ^D, and the Lord of all things, who was administering human salvation through the flesh, was not ashamed of the name of ministry, saying that he was in the midst as one who ministers, who works the divisions of ministries, as the Apostle says. For just as fire, having laid hold of suitable fuel, raises the flame on high and makes the light more distinct, so the Holy Spirit, dwelling in the great capacity of Stephen’s soul, made the rays of grace clearer. For this reason, all who possessed some share of knowledge and learning looked toward him; and those who seemed to have more than the rest formed groups—as if into certain phalanxes—crowding together through one another, and thus they endeavored to withstand the assault of Stephen. But he was invincible against all alike, whether he engaged with many alone or with a few. Then, therefore, in appearance, the Alexandrians and Libertines and Cyrenians, and the men who had come together from everywhere, were struggling against the athlete of the truth. But he who is understood through what appeared—the father of lies—was raising himself up through human figures against the truth which was being spoken by Stephen. But the truth was indeed winning a trophy against the lie, since that strenuous man had brilliantly put all the champions of fraud to flight: but the minister of the truth

^A was being plotted against by the enemy, as if he were not manifesting the truth which exists, but rather inventing a truth which does not exist. Why do you contrive these things against the herald—I would say to the devil—if you have any strength? Do injury to the truth which shines forth in Stephen; but if that truth is higher than your machinations, why do you busy your malice against the vessel of truth, and destroy what contains it, while leaving aside what is contained? It is just like what dogs do, snarling at the stones with which they are struck, but not touching the one who is striking. Since, therefore, the lie was refuted by those who resisted it, and that Wicked One was no longer able to find any other champion of his deceit, as all eyes were turned toward the manifestation of the truth, he remembers his own wrestling match, and dividing his energy among both the accusers and the ^B judges. Having entered into both, he urged the former to speak false things against Stephen, and led the latter to receive the calumny with anger. Having thus in various ways insinuated himself into the Jews, he becomes everything to Stephen: accuser, judge, executioner, and the entire remainder of the ministry of death, not knowing with what great ruin, after such a sentence against Stephen, he was himself about to fall headlong. For just as expert athletes, slipping beneath the bodies of their opponents with a certain artificial agility and skill, cause them a more severe fall, so too the great Stephen, once laid upon the ground, brought about that heavy crushing of his adversary.

^C From this point forward, the running of the apostles into the world begins; this is the beginning of the spreading of the word to all places. For if the people of the Jews had not raged against the apostles because of the murder of him, the grace of the Gospel might perhaps have been confined to Jerusalem alone. But now, driven out by the Jews, they were scattered, one here and one there, among the nations throughout the world, everywhere driving out the devil through the teaching of the mysteries. In this way Samaria receives the word; in this way, in passing, the salvation of the eunuch is accomplished by Philip; thus that great instrument of the Church, Paul, armed—or rather, armed by rage and threats by the devil—turns his weapons against the armorer himself, ^D driving him from the entire world, so that he left no place inaccessible to the faith of Christ. From this point on, Egyptians, Syrians, Parthians and Mesopotamians, Italians and Gauls, Illyrians, Macedonians recognize Christ, and the word, traversing the world, brings all nations everywhere to the faith. Do you see the athletic science of Stephen? By how many falls was the adversary crushed, when he seemed, through his calumny, to have become superior to the one wrestling with him? But let us return again to the stadium. With what words do the calumniators stir up the people? "He does not cease," they say, "to speak insults against this holy place and the law; for we have heard him saying that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and change the customs which Moses handed down to us." And as for

^A the accusation of these orators of the devil, it is of such a nature. But what of the senselessness of those who heard it? For what crime do they rage against the accused? What wickedness did they detect in the things said? For those things which were brought forward against him were things that were to happen in the future. For they said he had claimed that the place would be destroyed and that the customs of Moses would be changed. What then is the injustice in these words, whether he is speaking falsely or truthfully? For if he is lying, that which causes them grief will not come to pass; but if he is speaking the truth, what injustice is contained in a statement that foretells what is to come? For things that are to happen will indeed happen, whether we are silent or speak; but what correction of these evils does the slaughter of the one who foretold them bring?

Then, too, Jesus of Nazareth is the one accused, but the sentence of punishment is passed against Stephen. And yet, if it is he who does wrong that stirs one to anger, and if the change of the place and the customs is a crime—and the accuser says that these things are to be done not by Stephen, but by Jesus—the judges ought by all means to have been moved against the one who was accused. O the unjust sentence of those who heard it! "Because," they say, "Jesus will change the laws, let Stephen be stoned." But how will Jesus abolish the law, he who was so disposed toward the law, he who ordered all things for the confirmation of the ancient laws, he who said: "I have not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it" (Matt. v, 17)? ^B He who confirmed the law against murder by the fact that he did not wish anyone to be angry at all, he who cast out adultery along with lust and concupiscence, he who ruled that no one should even provoke another by injury, because he did not wish anyone to avenge himself on one by whom he had previously been harmed, he who rooted out the vice of avarice through the sharing of possessions?

How does it happen, then, that these things were neither mentioned nor investigated together in the trial? I would have wished now that the council of those bloodthirsty judges were present to me, and to ask them about the places for which they rage so fiercely: where is that renowned Temple, where are the unbelievable sizes of the stones, where is that gold which almost equaled the rest of the temple’s materials in value, where are the lawful sacrifices—the ram, the calf, the lamb, the heifer, the dove, the turtledove, the scapegoat used to avert evils? ^C If they condemn Stephen to death for this reason, that none of those dismal things might come to pass, let them show what they have preserved for themselves by that bloodthirsty deed. But if none of these things remains, for whose sake they passed that sentence, let them say for what reason the slaughter was perpetrated by them.

But let us see in the subsequent contest how he who was covered by the snowflakes of the stones as if by a shower of hail, defends himself against those bloodthirsty men; with what missiles he attacks those who were casting upon him the missiles of stones. Let the children of the Jews learn the weapons of the Christians, ones which the great Stephen used in avenging the injury done to him, and made that deed his rule of life. For while they, in a certain beastly and cruel madness, stood around the holy man in a circle ^D and all looked toward one goal, every instrument under their hand

serving as a weapon against Stephen, he, like a priest according to the spiritual law, offering a pure sacrifice—not presenting another’s body, but his own, and instead of a libation shedding his blood—was reconciling God, whom he beheld in the heavenly sanctuary, to those who were sinning. ^A Rewarding their murderous intent with a benefit, he cried out in the ears of his murderers, saying: "Lord, lay not this sin to their charge." And he, indeed, by his prayer blotted out the sin which the murderers were, as it were, inscribing with their lawless hands; but they were only further provoked by the prayer, and did not cease their assault until the great Stephen, as if showered by tender flowers or some light dew, was lulled into a sweet and blessed sleep. Yet, the victory preceded the contests, and before the struggle we behold the victor fully crowned. For before we have even surveyed the contest, the discourse has already carried us to the end of the struggle. For it was fitting, I think, not to pass over those points in the narrative by which the virtue of the martyr was most especially shown: what manner of assembly were those murderers, and how the rage of all was equally stirred up toward the murder; how great was the conspiracy of those gathered for evil; what was the gaze of each, what their bearing, what the movement and passion of their teeth, as the divine Scripture indicates, that "they were cut to the heart, and they gnashed on him with their teeth." ^B And standing in the midst of so many and such men, and rousing himself against all the opposing power that was active in those murderers, he excelled in all things by the greatness of his spirit, opposing to their wrath his long-suffering, to their threats his disdain, to the fear of death his contempt for life, to their hatred his love, to their hostility his kindness, and to their calumny the proclamation of the truth. For the champion of the truth was not declared a victor by one means only, but distributing himself through various virtues against every form of malice that was then being employed by the Jews, he grappled with them all and overcame them all. Thus I hear that in the gymnastic contests, those who exceed others in strength, often girding themselves for the whole gymnastic stadium, carry off the prizes of victory over all their opponents. ^C Such was the leader of the stadium of the martyrs; for having set himself against all the forces of the adversary, he is marked as glorious in his victory over all. For the false wisdom which contended against him through the Libertines, the Cyrenians, and the wise men from the city of Alexander, he defeated by the true wisdom; he overcame terror by his boldness of speech, threats by his disdain, cruelty by his beneficence, and falsehood by the truth. They indeed were looking toward the murder and were already arming their hands with stones, and by their gaze, their panting, and the gnashing of their teeth they indicated their bitterness... ^D

^A while he beheld them as brothers and greeted them as fathers. “Men,” he says, “brothers and fathers, hear me.” While they were plausibly weaving their calumny, for him that council of murderers was a school of truth. He did not cut short his discourse through fear, nor did he become faint-hearted at the prospect of dangers, nor did he look toward death; but, keeping his soul at the heights and regarding all things at his feet as if they were foolish children playing in vain, he guided them with his words, using those very instances in which they themselves believed as proof that they were wandering in their doctrines.

Abraham is brought forward in his discourse, and all the history concerning him is set before their eyes in a few words; then the succession of the holy men who followed him. Following these, Moses is born, is nurtured, is educated, is initiated into the sacred mysteries upon the mountain; he scourges Egypt, he saves Israel, he proclaims beforehand the mystery concerning the Lord. This is what most stirs the council and kindles the malady, that even Moses, of whom they pretended ^B to be such devoted followers, is shown to be an advocate for this doctrine. For which cause, rising up, they brought about an end worthy both of their own bitterness and of Stephen's desire. For he, having departed from his nature, and even before departing from his body, sees with clear eyes the heavenly gates opened to him, and that which appeared within the sanctuary—both the divine glory itself and the radiance of that glory. And while no figure is described by discourse for the glory of the Father, the radiance is beheld by the athlete in the form in which it was seen by men, appearing as the human nature was able to contain it.

He, then, having moved beyond human nature and being transformed into angelic grace—so as even to be a wonder to those very murderers—with the form of his countenance changed into angelic dignity, when he saw things that escape sight, announced with a loud cry the grace that appeared to him. They, however, stopped their ears and did not receive the account of the vision—a thing they did well, at least, in all respects; for the ears of the profane and impure were not worthy to receive accounts of a divine manifestation. Now he, for his part, shared the grace with those present, putting forth for the general benefit, in the account, those things of which he alone had been deemed worthy, saying, “I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing at the right hand of God.” But they, crying out with a loud voice and covering their ears, rushed upon him with one accord. The history concerning them rightly added the “clamor” to their deeds, in order to show the kinship of their resolution with the Sodomites. For the wickedness of those men was named a “clamor” by the Judge. For, He says, “The clamor of Sodom and Gomorrah has ascended to Me.” These men, therefore, also cried out, so that their own clamor against Stephen might also be heard. Yet the athlete was not ignorant, being benefited by the bitterness of the murderers. For by their...

stones of those throwing them, as if by a circuit, he received what was being done as if a crown of victory were being woven for him in the hands of his adversaries. Wherefore he also rewards those bloodthirsty men with a kindly prayer, asking that the crime being perpetrated upon him might not be divided into contrary outcomes—that it should bring life to him, but destruction to his adversaries; rather, he does not wish that even his enemies, as authors in some part of his blessings, should be excluded from whatever he himself was deemed worthy of. Thus does he who beholds Christ know how to conduct himself toward his enemies. For since he saw the lawgiver of patience, he remembered the laws that had been laid down by Him, commanding to love enemies, and to do good to those pursuing one with hatred, and to pray for those doing hostile things. ^B But the athlete indeed is not glorified by human praises, nor did he have as his goal in the struggle a glory fashioned for him by men; rather, having surpassed the whole world in the magnificence of his achievement, he outran even the measures of human strength, casting every eulogistic power behind him.

Therefore, let him indeed possess the rewards of victory in every human discourse, but let his history assist us for the salvation of our souls. For just as among bodily athletes, those who have ceased from the contests train their juniors in athletic exercises, teaching them through a certain technical agility how to frustrate and elude the holds of their opponents, ^C so do I think it necessary that we too should be trained in piety by the great Stephen, so that through him we may flee and avoid the holds of the Pneumatomachi—that is, the enemies of the Holy Spirit. For they who rage against the glory of the Holy Spirit claim that Stephen is an advocate of their absurdity, he who with intent eyes gazed upon heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. They say, therefore, to the subversion of the doctrines of piety, "If the Spirit must by all means be numbered with the Father and the Son, how is it that Stephen in the vision did not see the Spirit with the Son?" How then will Stephen stretch out his hand to those who are being tripped up by such arguments? How will he raise up those who are stumbling by the art of the struggle? ^D Yet from that very place arises the help that overturns the incredulity of the opponent. Do you ask, O Pneumatomachian, "If the glory of the Father was seen, and the Son held his station at the right hand, where is the Spirit?" If the Spirit were in you, the statement concerning Him set before you would not have escaped you, just as those who are afflicted in their eyes pass by the gold lying before their feet, ignoring it. But now at least listen, unless by chance you hold your ears, as the Jews did: How did Stephen see the supercelestial glory? Who opened the gates of the heavens to him? Was this the work of human strength? Did any of the angels lift up to that height a nature that lies below? These things are not so; for the history concerning him does not say that Stephen was great in terms of the power of his own strength, or that he became full of angelic assistance, and thus saw what he saw. But what is…

^A what does it say? "Stephen, being full of the Holy Spirit, saw the glory of God and the only-begotten Son of God." For it is not possible, as the Prophet says, for light to be seen unless it is beheld in the light. For, he says, "In your light we shall see light." If, then, it is not possible for the contemplation of light to occur otherwise than in the light—for how is it possible to look at the sun having gotten outside the rays?—since, then, the only-begotten Light is beheld in the light of the Father, that is, in the Holy Spirit who proceeds from Him, for this reason, having been pre-illuminated by the glory of the Spirit, he arrives at the perception of the glory of the Father and the Son. For how are we to say that the evangelical pronouncement is true, that "no one has ever seen God"? And how is it that we do not cry out that the Apostle says things contrary to what is recorded when he says, "No man has seen Him, nor is he able to see Him"? For if the glory of the Father and the Son were graspable by human nature and power, he who declared that the divine vision is ungraspable to men would be altogether a liar. But clearly, it is necessary that neither that man lies, nor is the history untrue. Therefore, the malice of the Pneumatomachi is openly detected, because it is testified by Scripture that like things are beheld by like things. For Stephen did not behold the divine while remaining in human nature and power; but having been mingled with the grace of the Holy Spirit, through Him he was raised up to the contemplation of God. Therefore, if "no one can say 'Lord Jesus'" without the Holy Spirit, as the Apostle says, nor contemplate the paternal glory, it is clearly demonstrated that where the Spirit is, there the Son is also beheld, and the paternal glory is grasped. ^B But another weapon of impiety is cast at us from the things recorded by the Christomachoi, that is, the enemies of Christ. For they say that the inferiority of the Only-Begotten is signified through this. For they make the fact that He stands at the right hand of the Father a demonstration that He is subject to the authority of the Father. What then, I might say to them, would Paul say? Or further, before him, the prophet David, both explaining the glory of the Only-Begotten through the teaching of the Spirit? For David says, "The Lord said to my Lord: Sit at my right hand." And the Apostle says that the Lord is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. If, then, standing is a sign of lowering, sitting is surely a sign of equality of honor. Either, therefore, let them discard the divine testimonies, through which the loftiness of the right hand is signified, or let them also piously accept this. For the teacher of each of the things said is one: the grace of the Spirit. For Stephen, being full of the Holy Spirit, both saw what he saw, and spoke of what he saw. And David, in the Spirit, calls Him Lord, as the Gospel says. And Paul, just as he himself says, speaks the mysteries in the Spirit. If, therefore, the teacher is one, having no disagreement with himself ^C and ^D indeed, before him also the prophet David, both explaining the glory of the Only-Begotten through the teaching of the Holy Spirit? For David also says: "The Lord said to my Lord: Sit at my right hand": and the Apostle says that the Lord sits at the right hand of the throne of God. If, therefore, standing is a sign of diminution, sitting is certainly a sign of the same lot, condition, and honor. Either, therefore, they must reject the august and divine testimonies through which the sublimity of the right hand is signified, or they must receive this also piously. For the one mistress and teacher of each saying is the grace of the Holy Spirit. For Stephen, indeed, when he was full of the Holy Spirit, both saw what he saw,

and spoke what he saw. But David in the Spirit ^A calls Him Lord, as the Gospel says; and Paul, as he himself says, speaks mysteries by the Spirit. If, therefore, there is one teacher, who has no discrepancy with himself (for the master is the Spirit of truth, who was in those who were breathed upon by the divine and rapt in divinity), by what reasoning could one suspect a diversity and discrepancy of doctrines? But, he says, sitting signifies one thing, and standing another, as it is ready and easy to understand. Nor do I deny it. But it is not right to think that what the signification of words points to in bodies, this is also to be thought of the incorporeal nature. For in a human being, indeed, sitting designates the position of the body upon the buttocks, so that the tension of the hams and knees may not labor by constantly supporting the weight of the body upon itself. And conversely, standing signifies a person erect and upright upon the knees, not resting by sitting on the buttocks. But in the supernal and excellent nature, both sitting and standing are empty and alien to such understandings, both being equally separated from the signification which is ready and easy to understand. For we shall not understand His standing to be in the ham, nor His sitting to be in the buttocks, as He is incorporeal and devoid of figure; but through either word, we shall piously understand that which is stable in every good, and immutable in every good. For as many as say the divine power stands, and as many as say it sits, do not differ from one another, as far as the meaning is concerned, by the diversity of words: the former judging the divine power to stand firmly, the latter judging it to be immutably constituted and founded in the good. ^B And just as the prophet David and the apostle Paul, in their writings, both mentioning the sitting of the Only-Begotten, did not give one to understand that the Father is standing while the Son is on the throne, even though they made mention only of the Son's sitting; in the same way, when you hear of the Son's standing in the history of Stephen, you should not for any reason, nor rightfully, entertain any suspicion concerning the Father's sitting. For just as in the case of Paul and David, that the Father sits is acknowledged by the fact that the Son sits at the right hand, even though the discourse taught nothing beforehand concerning the Father; in the same way, in the history of Stephen, the Son's standing indicates the same thing also regarding the glory of the Father. For thus the account of the image might be preserved, if everything that is understood and discerned in it were believed to be the same also in the archetypal form; and as good is in the good, and light in the light, and in all things the primitive and principal beauty is characterized in the image through its proper marks; so also, in the sitting of the Son, whatever understanding this name affords, the Father's sitting is also comprehended, and similarly also regarding the standing, so that the account of the image may not fall away, being alienated from the original and primitive by the abolition of the properties. These things, brethren, let them be regarded by us, in passing, toward the question proposed, as the vision of Stephen has introduced such a contemplation into our discourse. May it be granted to us not only to be spectators of the struggle of Stephen, but also participants of the grace, having been filled with the Holy Spirit, for the overthrow of our adversaries, to the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom is the glory ^D and might for ever and ever. Amen.

ANOTHER ENCOMIUM BY THE SAME ON THE SAME

and the power unto the ages of ages. Amen. ^D

BY THE SAME ANOTHER ENCOMIUM UPON SAINT STEPHEN THE PROTOMARTYR.

BY THE SAME ANOTHER LAUDATION OF ST. STEPHEN THE PROTOMARTYR.

Christ came into the world for our salvation, and straightway the fruits of the Church sprang forth. The witness of the truth shone forth, and together with him shone forth the witnesses of the great dispensation. The disciples followed the Master, treading in the footsteps of the Lord; after Christ, the Christ-bearers; after the Sun of Justice, the lights of the world. And first among us blossomed Stephen, not woven out of Jewish thorns, but offered to the Lord as the first fruit of the fertility of the Church. For the Jews, having plaited a crown of thorns, placed it upon the head of the Savior, exhibiting to the Lord of the vineyard fruits worthy of their evil husbandry, as once ^A he foretold through the prophecy, saying: "The vineyard of the Lord of Sabaoth is the house of Israel, and the man of Judah, a plant beloved. I expected that it should bring forth grapes, but it brought forth thorns" (Isa. v, 7). But the laborers of the evangelical truth offer to the Master their first beginning of piety and the first-fruits of their husbandry, Stephen, the holy man, as a crown truly harmonized out of many and diverse virtues. For, in the first place, this admirable man was entrusted with the care of the widows, having been approved as a faithful man, and full of the Holy Spirit, ^B by the judgment and selection of the apostles, and afterwards by the virtue of spiritual wisdom. And certainly of such study and endeavor

in defending and propagating the Gospel had he given a specimen, that great miracles of divine power accompanied his preaching. For Stephen, he says, "full of faith and power, did great wonders." ^A For he did not judge that any impediment to him might arise from the care of the widows, but he also embraced this task with alacrity, nor did he ever cease from the ministry of the word; and this very thing in him was a matter of great admiration, that he showed a singular abundance of a mind inclined to undergo labors. He bore the care of the widows, and he applied himself to the business of souls, nourishing the former with bread, and instructing the latter with words; setting before the one a corporal table, but preparing for the others a spiritual banquet. For he was a righteous man, and full of the Holy Spirit, sustaining the office of feeding the poor through the probity of his mind, while with liberty of speech and the virtue of the Holy Spirit, he stopped the mouths of the enemies of the truth. Therefore he resisted all, and contended against all by the preaching of the truth, destroying the counsels of adversaries, ^B and every height that exalts itself against the knowledge of God. And he was endowed with such power and efficacy of speech that, as the sacred page testifies, no one could resist the wisdom and the spirit with which he spoke. But the herald of truth was led to the council of impiety; for it is necessary for us thus in passing to render the due praises to the Protomartyr, which yesterday, on account of the infirmity of the body, it was not permitted to fulfill, and today to perform the due commemoration of the holy apostles. For first, the praises of the saints are not to be circumscribed by days or times; for "The righteous shall be in eternal remembrance." ^C Then, those to whom there was one and the same mind and sentiment, they ought surely to be partakers of these praises also. Therefore, the martyrs are not to be praised without the apostles, nor the apostles without them. For the apostles are the masters of the martyrs, and the martyrs are the images of the apostles. Therefore, the blessed Stephen, bearing before him their image and insignia—namely, the cross—was the first also to be crowned with the crown of martyrdom through death. Indeed, by the tolerance of his martyrdom, he procured glory and beauty for his masters; and Stephen was truly made what his name signifies, that is, a crown; for the crown of excellent masters was not an honor sprung from the celebrity of a name, but was the growth of the Church, ^D just as the divine Apostle also, writing to the Philippians, says: "My brethren dearly beloved, my joy and my crown, so stand fast." But let us return to the proposed subject.

The man bearing Christ entered the council of those who slew Christ; the sheep leaped into the synagogue of the wolves.

^A It did not leap in simply like a sheep snatched by a wolf, but as a sheep from the flock of Christ contending with wolves. For they were raging and gnashing their teeth, lacerating the flock with the bites of accusations and threats; but he, in an entirely different manner, tore them apart with his arguments rather than with threats and accusations. Let us not run through these words lightly and superficially. For in the face of such a council of evildoers and such an incursion of wolves, he took courage to speak out against injustice and to say, after that long discourse: "You stiff-necked and uncircumcised in heart and ears, you always resist the Holy Spirit, as your fathers did," and what follows. ^B Thus, he who seemed to be on earth was gazing upon heavenly things, not having put off human nature, but transformed into the face and appearance of an angel. And there was nothing strange in this; for it was truly fitting that in the Protomartyr the dignity of martyrs should be revealed, and that all might henceforth recognize the works of the new grace. For the desire for martyrdom not only bestows angelic dignity but also opens the gates of heaven; it does not hand over souls to death, but commends the spirit into the hands of Christ. For our Lord and Savior, as a man, cried out to his own Father on the cross, saying: "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." ^C But Stephen, the servant of Christ, stretching out his hands to the Master, says: "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." And uttering these words, he breathed out his soul. The angels received their fellow dancer, showering him with praises from above more than the Jews below covered him with stones. But Stephen, having thus fought the good fight, received the inheritance in heaven. And to this Stephen, suddenly, all the precious stones were joined—the most divine heralds of the Gospels, after whom followed the martyrs, and after them again those who shone with saving virtue; but especially those whom we celebrate at present, who shone far and wide with the splendor of piety, I mean Peter, and James, and John, the leaders of the apostolic harmony and the crowns of ecclesiastical glory. ^D For I do not desist from the name of Stephen; but having spoken it many times and a thousand times, still thirsting, I repeat it. For there is no satiety in Stephen for those who await the blessed end of the crowns. Therefore, if one must speak truthfully, we are feasting again on crowns starting from Stephen, and we share in them with his memorials, since we hope to share, and to remain, and to be glorified together.

^A For thus the promise, the communion of faith, is multiplied.

But again, brothers, an occasion is given to us to enjoy spiritual goods, while the Lord’s day of resurrection shines together with the commemoration of the martyrs. For on this day the illumination of the glory of the Gospel of Christ shone into our minds primarily, in which that light, flourishing with the saving rays of righteousness, dispelled the darkness of impiety, and enlightened souls with the knowledge of the truth. And see how admirable and great is this kind of benefit! For this sensible sun, rising in the morning and beginning the day with the rays of his light as harbingers of his arrival, indeed covers and surrounds the earth with his light, but he obscures and overwhelms the choruses of all other stars, so that we see him alone wandering through the vaults of heaven. ^B But our Lord Jesus Christ, having risen for us from on high, according to the prophecy speaking about him, “In which the Orient from on high hath visited us,” ^C not only did not obscure those holy ones who shone like stars before his coming and became his forerunners, but rather rendered them more splendid, and, moreover, caused other new luminaries to rise along with him. For prophets shone forth after his presence; or rather, even before it. For while the prophecy was still dim due to the inept digressions of the Scribes in explaining those things which pertained to the Gospel and the coming of Christ, the Savior coming into the world illumined all things, and made them clear, having become the fulfillment of the Law and the prophets. For he did not come to destroy the Law and the prophets, but to fulfill them. ^D And concerning the new grace, the Savior saying about himself,

^A "I am the light of this world," the source of goodness, ^B having come forth from the good Father, did not disdain to share his own name with those who serve him; but he says to his own disciples: "You are the light of the world; and, Let your works shine before men." ^B And that which we have the greater power to bring forward in support of what has been said, this, by the grace of God, we shall set forth again: John the Baptist, named a lamp, and foretold in the Psalms, and testified to by the Lord. For the Prophet, taking the person of the Father, says concerning him in his song: "I have prepared a lamp for my Christ," that is, I have prepared a servant and forerunner of the light. And the Lord, confirming the paternal voice, says, "He was the burning lamp." But although he was a lamp, he was so far from being obscured by the coming of the Lord—who was the sun of righteousness—that he shone even more brightly, having become at once a herald and a theologian of the Savior himself. ^C John, therefore, because he illuminated only the one house of Israel, was called a lamp. But the apostles of the Savior were proclaimed not lamps, nor torches, nor stars, but luminaries, shining not in one region, nor in one corner, but illuminating everything under heaven. The leaders and chief among these are Peter, and James, and John, who are honored today for their testimonies on behalf of Christ, having run in harmony toward the end of their lives, yet contending in the struggle of martyrdom in different ways. For he who was revealed as the leader and chief of the apostolic choir obtained glory befitting his rank, honored by a kinship of experience with the Savior; for being fixed to the cross, he depicted the kingly image of the Lord (and by kingly image I mean the cross); not ashamed of the passion, but boasting in the great trophy. For neither to them, nor to us, nor to those after us, nor to any other, of our Lord Jesus Christ, just as Paul also says... ^D for so too Peter appears to have held in honor the venerable... For out of great reverence he asked to be suspended upside down on the cross by those crucifying him, that he might not be thought equal to the Savior, who was crucified for all of humanity, and who, with hands spread out as they were upon the cross, embraced the inhabited world. But James was beheaded, eager to attain his true head, Christ. For the head of man is Christ, according to the Apostle, and likewise the head of the whole Church. But the blessed John, having struggled in many and various conflicts throughout his life, and having excelled in all the accomplishments of piety,

^A having been judged at the end by the boiling water—this term, having been condemned, is reckoned with the choir of the martyrs. For among judges, martyrdom is not judged by the outcome of the suffering, but by the intention of the desire. But the mode of death was such for those who, through death, bestowed immortal memory upon the Churches. And it was truly fitting that the memories of the aforementioned men should be celebrated together, not only because of their agreement in piety, but also because of the equal rank of their worth. For they alone always spent their time with the Lord, and possessed a preeminent place, as it were, beyond the rest of the apostles, and boldness, not by the assumption of human friendship, but according to the divine judgment of truth.

^B We find that they alone were taken up by the Lord when He performed His greatest miracles, as the most faithful and truthful witnesses of His deeds; this occurred during the vision on the mountain (for only Peter, and James, and John were there when the Lord, transforming His own body, changed it into a glorious and more brilliant divinity, having Moses and Elijah standing with Him, and through the cloud of light overshadowing them, He revealed that great image of the kingdom); this also occurred when He raised the daughter of Jairus from the dead, for even there He had these men as spectators of the miracle that took place. Furthermore, that I may not delay by speaking of each point individually, even at the very time of His saving passion, having taken these same men with Him, He did not fear to say to them, as to faithful and most steadfast men, "Now is my soul troubled." These things have been said by us, not in order to detract from the rest of the ^C apostles, but as a testimony to the virtue of those whose memory we celebrate today; and to speak more truly, even for the common praise of all the apostles; for to define excellences and gradations among the saints is the task not of human judgment, but of the judgment and truth of God. But we, who have been deemed worthy to share in the memory of such great men, must give thanks to them, not to the extent that we owe—for this is impossible—but to the extent that we are able; for even this is acceptable. For the saints demand these honors from us, not that they may gain anything by being praised, but that we may share in the benefits ^D of our communion with them; nor do I suppose that anyone of the pious is unaware that we celebrate the memories not only of Peter, and James, and John, but of the whole apostolic harmony together…

For if, according to the truth of the doctrines, they occupy the order of members and fulfill the form of one body, it is evident that when one part is glorified, as the Apostle says, all the members are glorified together; ^A and this especially holds true for those blessed and most perfect men, in whom all things concur toward the truth: their manner of life is of one mind, their faith is of one belief, and just as the rewards of piety are common to them, so too are the honors bestowed for the truth’s sake. And who would not reasonably be delighted, and filled with the Holy Spirit himself, in being deemed worthy to share in the apostolic choir, which led the whole world to the knowledge of the truth, which spread the nets of piety over the entire inhabited world, and everywhere fixed the traps of the truth, so that, by catching all mankind—which had been turned savage by wickedness—they might bring it to Him who tames and saves it? "Their sound went out into all the earth." They are the foundations of the Church, the pillars and supports of the truth; these are the perennial fountains of salvation, which pour forth a copious, rich, and God-like stream of teaching. To them the prophetic voice also directs us, saying: "Draw water with joy from the fountains of the Savior." ^B

Peter, the head of the apostles, is commemorated, and the other members of the Church are glorified together with him, while the Church of God is established in him. For this man is, according to the gift granted to him by the Lord, the unbroken and most firm rock upon which the Savior built the Church. James and John are also commemorated, and, as they were called "sons of thunder" by the Savior, they bring with them all the rain-bearing clouds; for when the thunder breaks, the clouds must necessarily gather. By clouds, then, one must understand the apostolic and prophetic discourses, which, while the times of their proclamation differ, yet have harmonious laws of piety, for their charisms flowed from one and the same Spirit. But why do I dare to approach matters beyond my abilities, and attempt to commemorate the apostolic virtue worthily? Our striving in praises does not pertain to Simon, who is known from his fishing, but to his firm faith, and to the support of the whole ^C Church at once. Nor, again, do we have our discourse directed toward the sons of Zebedee, but toward the Boanerges, which, being interpreted, signifies "sons of thunder." Where now will the most meager voice of my discourse appear, when such a great and mighty thunder is ringing in the ears of all? Therefore, hastening to fulfill only this duty of gratitude toward the saints, ^D

we desire to fulfill his will, at least in that way, yet we take refuge in silence, which is free from danger, knowing full well ^A that we are counted worthy to share in the memorials of the saints only when we imitate and emulate their virtues; not by celebrating their deeds in speeches, but by embracing their character in our souls so that we never allow them to slip away or be forgotten. For it is not festivals celebrated inconsiderately and by custom, but religious piety, the same manner of life, and similarity of behavior that will demonstrate that we are their true disciples. You venerate the memorials of the martyrs; venerate also their purpose: for we truly share in the memorials of the saints when we follow after their manner of life. For the illumination of the knowledge of the glory of the Gospel of Jesus Christ did not shine upon them alone. [II Cor. iv, 4, 6.] Neither did God bestow grace only upon those. The precepts are common, the law of conduct is common; the one who distributes the rewards of labors to those who struggle is one, and there is one prize of truth, which may God grant us all to be worthy of, through the prayers and intercessions ^B of the saints whose memory we celebrate, and by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power forever and ever. Amen.

BY THE SAME EULOGY FOR THE GREAT MARTYR THEODORE

BY THE SAME ORATION IN PRAISE OF THE HOLY AND GREAT MARTYR THEODORE

You who are the people of Christ, the holy flock, the royal priesthood, who have flocked together in crowds from everywhere, both from the cities and from the countryside, whence did you receive the signal for the journey, and how were you led here to this sacred place? Who has imposed upon you such a serious and seemingly predetermined necessity for coming here? And that too in winter time, ^C when there is peace from war, and the soldier puts away his armor, and the sailor places his rudder above the smoke, and the farmer rests, tending to his plowing oxen at the manger? Or is it evident that the holy martyr has sounded the trumpet from the ranks of the military, and has stirred up many from different regions, and has called them to the place and seat of his own rest—not to organize for the equipment of war,

^A but to gather them for the sweet peace that is especially becoming to Christians? For he, as we believe, even in the past year calmed the barbarian storm and checked and restrained the terrible and savage war of the Scythians—brandishing before them, as they were already seen and approaching, not a triple-crested helmet ^B or a sword well-sharpened and gleaming in the sun, but the expeller of evils and all-powerful cross of Christ, for whose sake he himself also suffered and acquired this glory. And now, turning your mind to it, consider, you who are ministers of this pure worship and lovers of the martyrs, what a great thing a righteous man is, and how many are the rewards of which he is accounted worthy (I speak of those rewards which are bestowed in the world and among us; for of the invisible ones, no one is capable of calculating their magnificence); and having determined the fruit of piety, emulate the resolve of those who are thus preferred. Desire those rewards which Christ distributes to the athletes according to their merit. And for the moment, if you please, letting be the enjoyment of future goods—which a good hope reserves for the just when the Judge of our lives shall arrive—let us look at the present state of the saints, how most beautiful and magnificent it is. For the soul, having departed, rests in its own proper place, and liberated from the body, lives together with its fellows; but the venerable and unspotted body, the instrument of that soul, which by its own vices and affections did not harm the incorruptibility of the one inhabiting it, having been shrouded with great honor and care, lies venerably in a sacred place, just like a precious treasure ^C preserved for the time of the regeneration, having much that is incomparable to other bodies, which have been dissolved by the common and ordinary death—and this, too, in the same material of nature. For other remains are even abominable to most people, and no one willingly passes by a grave, or if it unexpectedly shows an opening, one, being filled with every disgust at the deformity of the things lying within, and grieving heavily at the condition of human nature, runs past it. But if one has come to a place similar to this, where today our assembly is held, where the memorial of a righteous man and his holy relics are, first he is delighted by the magnificence of the things he sees, while he beholds the house as a temple of God, brilliantly adorned by the greatness of the structure and the beauty of the decoration, where the carpenter has shaped the wood into the representation of living figures, and the stone-mason has polished the slabs to the smoothness of silver. ^D The painter has also introduced the flowers of his art in the image he has depicted: the heroic deeds of the martyr, the struggles, the agonies, the savage forms of the tyrants, their insults, that fire-feeding furnace, the most blessed consummation of the athlete, the impression of the human form of the Awarder of the prize, Christ; having wrought everything for us through colors as if in a book that speaks, he has clearly described the struggles of the martyr, and has made the temple as brilliant as a meadow; for writing knows how to speak on a wall even while silent, and to do the greatest good;

the arranger of the mosaic stones similarly produced a work of history on the floor which is trodden by feet. ^B

Since, therefore, he has delighted the eyes with these artfully prepared works which are exposed to the senses, the observer desires to approach the burial chamber itself, believing that the touch of it is a sanctification and a blessing. If anyone allows even the dust which covers the surface of the resting place to be carried off, the dust is received as a gift, and the earth is treasured as a relic. For those who have experienced it and have been filled with such a desire know how greatly to be desired and prayed for, and what a gift of the highest prayer it is, to touch the relics themselves, if ever such good fortune allows it. For they embrace it as if it were a body living and blooming, applying their eyes, their mouth, their ears, and all the tools of the senses, and then, pouring out tears of piety and affection upon the martyr—as though he were whole and visible—they bring their petition for his intercession, praying to him as a soldier of God, and invoking him as one who receives their gifts when he wills. From all these things, O pious people, learn that *precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints*. For the body of all men is indeed one and the same, having its constitution from the same mass; but that which has died a simple death is cast away like anything worthless, while that which has been made graceful by the affection of martyrdom is so lovely, pleasant, and desired and sought after by many, as the preceding discourse has demonstrated. ^C Therefore, through those things which are apparent, let us believe in those things which escape sight; from the experience of those things which are seen in the world, let us believe in the promise of future things. For many who prefer their belly and vain glory and this worldly chaff to all things, think that there is nothing in the future, but consider that all things are terminated with the end of life. But you who think this way, learn the great from the small: discern the archetypal forms from the shadows. Which of the kings is honored with such honor? Which of those who have appeared to excel among men is celebrated with such a memory? Which of the emperors who have captured fortified cities and enslaved countless nations is so renowned and celebrated by fame as this poor soldier, a recently enlisted recruit, whom Paul armed, whom angels anointed for the struggle, and whom Christ crowned as victor? But rather, since I have come near in my discourse ^D to the struggles and labors of the martyr, come, let us leave aside common matters and institute a discourse peculiar to the saint; for to each person his own is pleasing and acceptable.

The fatherland, therefore, of this noble and strenuous man is the region that looks toward the sunrise; for he, too, is noble like Job, from the parts of the East, and sharing that fatherland with him, he was not lacking in the imitation of his character and nature. But now he is a martyr common to all the world, a citizen under the sun; and having been taken from there to the ranks of soldiers...

and his winter quarters being ordered here by those in command, he passed into our region. ^A When war was suddenly stirred up—not by a barbarian incursion, but by a Satanic law and a god-fighting decree (for every Christian was hunted down by the impious document and led to death)—then, indeed, that thrice-blessed man, being well-known for his piety and carrying his faith in Christ everywhere, having all but written his confession upon his forehead, was no longer a recruit in courage, nor inexperienced in war and battle; but noble in soul, he made his endurance strong against dangers, neither yielding, nor trembling, nor putting forward any timid argument.

For when that wicked tribunal sat, and the governor and the chiliarch came together to the same place, just as Herod and Pilate once did, they brought the servant of the Crucified to a judgment similar to that of his Master. ^B "And tell us," they say, "whence this boldness and audacity is born in you, that you insult the imperial law, and do not submit, trembling, to the commands of the lord, nor worship according to the pleasure of those who hold power?" For those around Maximian were then holding the empire. He, with a firm countenance and an undaunted mind, gave a pointed and sharp response to what was said: "I know no gods (for they do not exist in truth); but you, deceived, honor as gods the false and deceitful demons, calling them by the name of God. But to me, God is Christ, the only-begotten Son of God. Therefore, for the sake of piety and the confession of Him, let him who wounds cut; let him who lashes tear; let him who burns bring the flame; and let him who is offended by these my words remove my tongue; for the body owes patience to its Creator for every single member." ^C The tyrants were defeated by these words; they could not withstand the first assault of the brave man, seeing the youth exulting towards his passion, and drawing death to himself as if it were some sweet drink.

But as they waited a little while, at a loss and deliberating what was to be done, one of the soldiers in command, who took himself to be clever and urbane, mocking the martyr's answer at the same time, said, "Is there, then, O Theodore, a Son to your God? And does He beget as a man, subject to the passions of the flesh?" "My God," he said, "did not beget according to the passions of the flesh; but I confess a Son, and I say that the birth is one that befits God. But you, O wretched and ignorant man, as far as sense and reason are concerned, do you not blush and hang your head in shame, who even confess a female god, and adore the same as a mother of twelve children—a sort of ^D highly fertile demon, like hares or sows, easily conceiving and bringing forth?"

When the saint had thus returned a twofold derision to the idolater, the tyrants, putting on the guise of humanity and clemency, said, "Let a little time be granted to the madman for reflection; perhaps, according to

^A their own counsel, he may change for the better." For the senseless called sanity madness, and religious devotion they called alienation of mind and frenzy, just as when drunken men reproach sober people with their own affliction. But the pious man and soldier of Christ turned the time granted to him to manful action. What action was this? It is time for you to receive the narrative with joy. There was a temple in the metropolis of Amasea to the one celebrated in myths as the Mother of the Gods, which those who were then in error had built out of vanity somewhere there near the banks of the river. The valiant man, seizing a favorable moment and a propitious breeze during the time of security granted to him, set it on fire and burned it down, giving to the impious and wicked men in deed the answer that they were surely waiting for after their deliberation. ^B When the matter became quickly known to all (for the fire had been kindled in the middle of the city in a most conspicuous place), he did not conceal his undertaking, nor did he labor to keep it hidden, but was clearly manifest, and indeed exulting greatly in his achievement and rejoicing exceedingly at the tumult of the ungodly, by which they were troubled, grieving for the temple and the idol. Indeed, it was reported to the magistrates that he himself had committed the arson; and again [there was] a trial more fearful than the former, as was to be expected, since so great a source of provocation had occurred. And they ascended the judicial tribunal. Theodore, emboldened, ^C stood in the midst of the magistrate, possessing courage in the posture of one on trial, and by the speed of his confession forestalling the questioning. Since he was dauntless and yielded to none of the grievous and harsh punishments that were displayed to him with threats, they changed to the opposite course, and speaking in a friendly manner, tried to seduce the righteous man with promises. "Know," they said, "that if you are willing to obey our counsel, we will immediately make you famous from being unknown, and honorable from being inglorious; and we promise you the dignity of the high priesthood." But when he heard the title of the high priesthood, the thrice-blessed one had a long laugh and said: "I judge the priests of the idols to be wretched, and as ministers of a vain deed I pity them; ^D but I pity and abominate the high priests even more; for among the evil, he who is greater and holds the first rank is more wretched, just as among the unjust, the more unjust; as among murderers, he who exceeds others in cruelty; as among the lascivious, he who is more wanton and shameless. Therefore, put an end from now on to your pernicious promises; for you do not, alas, perceive or understand that you are promising me the head and sum of evils! For to one who has decided to live piously and uprightly, it is better to be a castaway in the house of God than to dwell in the tabernacles of sinners. I even pity those emperors of yours, whose lawless law you unceasingly read, because, having the power of the empire—a sufficient dignity among men—they have arrogated to themselves the title of high priest, and have donned the mourning and dark purple from that source, in imitation of those wretched high priests, bearing about a gloomy garment upon a bright dignity. And there are times when, by approaching a foul altar, they become, instead of emperors,

cooks who slaughter birds and investigate the entrails of wretched beasts; and, like some butchers, they stain their clothing with the gore of blood. ^B

After these words of the just man, the magistrates no longer displayed even that feigned and assumed kindness, but calling him most impious toward the gods, and furthermore insulting and blasphemous toward the emperors, they first hung him upon a rack prepared for torturing men and tore his flesh. But he, while the executioners were working vigorously, remained steadfast and unyielding, and sang a verse from the Psalter amidst his tortures: "I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall ever be in my mouth." While they were hewing away his flesh, he chanted, as if it were someone else undergoing the punishment. After this, a prison followed, and again a miracle took place in that place concerning the saint; for at night the voice of a multitude singing psalms was heard, and torches appearing, so that in the night-vigil a brightness was seen by those outside, to such a degree that the jailer, troubled by the strange and wonderful sight and sound, rushed into the cell and found no one except the martyr resting and the other prisoners sleeping. But since, as many things were done and attempted against him, he remained hardened in his confession and piety, the condemning sentence was brought against him, and being ordered to be finished by fire, he himself departed on the beautiful and blessed journey to God, but left for us the memorial of his struggle as a lesson, gathering peoples, instructing the Church, driving away and putting to flight demons, bringing down peaceful angels, asking from God the things that are profitable for us, making this place an infirmary for various diseases, a harbor for those tossed by the tempests of afflictions, a rich and abundant treasury for the poor, a peaceful lodging for travelers, a famous place for those who are celebrating a feast. For even though we observe this day in annual festivals, yet the multitude of those arriving in haste never ceases, and the public road leading here preserves the likeness of ants, with some ascending and others yielding to those who are coming.

We, therefore, O blessed one, having attained the annual revolution of the year through the kindness of the Creator, ^D have gathered for you the feast, the holy assembly of those who love the martyrs, worshiping the common Lord, and having completed the remembrance of your victory in your struggles; but do you, come now to us, wherever you may be, as the overseer of the feast (for we are calling upon you in return as you have called us); and whether you dwell in the high ether, or traverse some heavenly arch, or in choirs

^A of angels are standing by the Master, with the powers and authorities, serving as a faithful slave—seek a little respite from these duties, and come to those who honor you, as an invisible friend. Acknowledge and visit the festivals that are being celebrated, so that you may double your thanksgiving toward God, who for one passion and one pious confession has bestowed upon you such great rewards; and may you be gladdened by your blood and the anguish of the fire. For as many peoples as you had then as spectators of your punishment, so many you now have as ministers of your honor. We stand in need of many benefits; intercede and pray for your country before the common King and Lord—for a martyr’s country is also the place of his passion, and his citizens as well are his brothers and kin, who both possess him ^B and protect and adorn and honor him. We fear afflictions, we expect dangers; the wicked Scythians, who are bringing forth war against us, are not far off. As a soldier, fight on our behalf; as a martyr, use your freedom of speech for your fellow servants. Even though you have transcended this life, you know the feelings and the needs and the necessities of the human condition. Ask for peace, so that these public assemblies may not cease, so that the raging and lawless barbarian may not celebrate his orgies against our temples or altars, so that the profane and impious one may not trample upon what is holy. For we attribute to you the benefit even of the fact that we have been kept safe and sound; but we also ask for the safeguard and security of the time to come. But if there be need of even greater intercession ^C and prayer, gather the choir of your brother martyrs, and with them all make supplication. May the prayers of many righteous men wash away the sins of the multitudes and of the nations. Remind Peter, arouse Paul, and likewise John the Theologian and the beloved disciple, so that they may be anxious for the Churches which they established, for which they bore chains, for which they endured dangers and deaths. Let not the cult of idols raise its head against us; let not heresies, like thorns, spring up in the vineyard; let not the tares that have sprouted choke the wheat. Let no rock, lacking the fatness of the true dew, stand against us, and rendering the power of the word devoid of the strength of a root; but by the power of your intercession and of those with you, O man ^D to be admired, and eminent and excellent among the martyrs, may the commonwealth of the Christians be rendered a field of crops—a field which may endure until the end in the rich and fertile soil of the faith in Christ, always bearing the fruit of eternal life, which comes through Christ Jesus our Lord. With whom, to the Father together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, and honor, now and always and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

PANAGYRIC OF THE SAME ON THE HOLY FORTY MARTYRS. ORATION I.

^A Things which I suspect are burdensome and annoying to the majority, these are the very things in which my own mind rejoices. For it is unpleasant, as one might expect, for most people to be crushed together and crowded, but to me this is a source of joy. For the eye of the shepherd is gladdened when he sees the flock straitened by a multitude, and over-flowing the fold—even though the sheepfold is not small, but the abundant flock makes the spaciousness narrow. Such a thing, too, Peter perceived concerning the Lord, and answered saying: "Master, the crowds press thee and crush thee." Truly, just as the divine Apostle says somewhere, this is what it means to be pressed but not straitened. For he says: "Pressed in every way, but not straitened." But for myself, what sort of discourse shall I bring forth for such an assembly? Who will give me a voice more piercing than a trumpet, so that I might sound above the multitude and store my words in the ears of those gathered? To which of the things that have been read shall I turn my mind, that I may discover a discourse appropriate to those present? Job is great, instructing life in fortitude by his own examples; great is the writer of Proverbs in ^B his riddles. And what might one say about the holy Apostle, who out of those ineffable words which he says are beyond human comprehension, perhaps through the teaching with which he instructed the Ephesians, reveals to us also the mystery of the Word on the Cross, uncovering it through riddles? Such also are the other mysteries from the psalms: the "remembrance," and the "inscription of a pillar," and the "song for the winepress." For having considered these in the titles of the psalms that were read to us, we see that no small opportunity is given to our discourse through these riddles and wrappings of words. But as for me, it seems ^C appropriate to reserve the exposition of the things mentioned for a second time; yet I desire to find a voice appropriate and fitting for the present grace. What then is this? I know a certain...

law proper to nature, inscribed upon the very divine tablets by the Creator of the law of nature, which commands that every person should compensate for the benefits of their parents with all good things and services, as much as their power permits. ^A *Honour*, He says, *thy father and thy mother*, which is the first commandment in promises, *that it might be well with thee* (Eph. vi, 2). If this law holds the first place regarding the promise, and the execution of it turns out to be the proper gain of the one keeping it (for the honour rendered to parents returns to the one who has fulfilled the law), it would not be alien for any person of sound mind at least to look to this commandment, whose end becomes the benefit and grace of the one who has executed it.

For the parents of our flesh, having rendered service to their own generation during the time allotted to them from the beginning, have no further need of the duty of our honour, having long since departed from life, so that, as those who receive the benefit do not exist, such a law cannot be fulfilled. But the law requires us, while engaged in the work, to attain the promise. For it is not possible for those who are idle to obtain the rewards of those who are at work. What then must one do, when the parents are no more, who desires to attain both the promise and the reward, yet cannot devise a way by which they might obtain what they seek? Truly, the things set before our eyes solve this perplexity for us completely. For when I see you, ^B I have no need to seek other parents. For you are my fathers, who are to me even the fathers of the fathers themselves. For the homeland contains in itself also the dignity of those who have given birth. By doing what, then, shall we fulfill the law of honour toward you? For any grateful and pious son, refreshing and reviving the aged time of a father's life through his own service, supports and confirms the weakness of infirmity, becoming everything to the father in place of all else. Whence it is possible to see the father growing young again in the son. And in some ways even a hand that is elderly and trembling, refreshing and reviving itself with the vigour and strength of youth, plucks the fruit of the young man’s power, and the movement of the feet, already faltering through the shriveling of the limbs, becomes active through the diligence of the child, being set upright by the one supporting it. And even if the sight is dimmed by time, ^C again through the child the old man becomes sharp-sighted, being led by the hand to the necessary things of life. But you, who are for me a homeland, do not have the condition such that you would have need of any of these things.

What then, by doing what, shall we reap the fruit of the blessing of the commandment? What gift shall we offer to you that is pleasing, when no good thing is lacking to you? Or would even the very telling of the good things that are present in you pertain to the honour owed to you? Therefore it would be time to commemorate with how many and what kind of good things your life is adorned. Indeed, it is possible not only to commemorate, but also to demonstrate. But do you think that these common and ready-at-hand things are what I am speaking of? The fertility of the earth, ^D and the abundance of crops,

^A or the river that divides your settlement? I speak of the one that encloses its flow within the circle and circuit of the plain, and becomes a lake, which, both before it forms a lake and after, being divided for the need of each of the inhabitants, runs through woods and meadows as if by design, and provides countless graces to those who dwell there, dividing itself to satisfy every desire of the inhabitants of the city. Let others speak of these things, whose speech serves the purpose of grandiosity and brings a certain merit to those who are practiced in it, by increasing the praise of the fatherland from such things. But let some worldly man, who knows how to judge goods in accordance with this life, add to the praises, if he wishes, the other river also. I speak of the neighbor, who on account of his size is counted among the rivers famous throughout the world; taking its rise from our region, it flows past the city over time, contributing not a little merit from itself as an increment of beauty and for the cooperation of life. And if there is need to recount the founders, ^B or to glorify the races of the inhabitants from the region, or to add to our narrations some deeds of a warlike hand—trophies, and battles, and wonders of bravery, such as the sons of authors have stored away in books—let these things be far from our company. For Christian discourse is ashamed to bestow praise upon those who love Christ from things that are foreign to the faith, just as those who celebrate the shadow of a brave man before the trophies. Therefore, let the discourse be turned toward present things, and let it place your fruit before our eyes. But let worldly goods, and such subjects of praise, even if a great abundance should be supplied for the speaker from them, be passed over in silence. For neither the whole heaven, which is indeed the most beautiful and greatest of all things in creation, nor the flashes of the luminaries, nor the breadth of the earth, nor anything else of those things that are subject to the universe by way of elements, ^C does divine discourse acknowledge as something great and worthy of admiration. For I have been instructed by the divine command to admire nothing of those things which pass away. If, therefore, all heaven and earth shall pass away, and the whole fashion of the world is passing away, as the Apostle says [3 Cor. VII, 31], how could anyone think it becoming to introduce for us the fertility of earth and water as a cause for praise? For even if your place possesses more of such earthly benefits than can be found elsewhere, yet, in comparison with your goods, the discourse knows how to pass over those things as if they were of no worth. Wherefore, let us turn our praise toward things that are by nature more excellent. But these shall no longer be shown to us through words; it is possible to look upon the very head of your goods. ^D For who does not know your fruit, that you brought forth the ear of the martyrs, this fruitful and abundant one, which extends beyond the number of thirty in the multitude and plenty of its fruits

^A Behold this sacred field; from here the sheaves of the martyrs have been gathered. If you desire to know of what field I speak, do not look far from that which is present. What is this place that embraces the assembly? What does the yearly cycle tell you? What stories does the commemoration of this day bring to you? Are there not "speeches," as the Prophet says, and words, whose voices, though not heard, declare the miracles more clearly than any speech? If you look at the place, it itself says that it is the stadium of the martyrs; if you consider the day, it is like a herald of great voice and resonant sound proclaiming the crown of the martyrs. These things I think I hear the day itself crying out: that one day prides itself on the creation of the luminaries, another on the heavens, and another rejoices and is pleased by the formation of the earth. But for me, the miracles of the martyrs are sufficient for decoration; it is sufficient to be adorned with the beauty of their crowns; it is sufficient to be honored and decorated with the trophies erected against the devil. What stories have there been in me! What an addition has been made through me to the angels! What fruit the earth has given to God! When the Lord planted a planting in me! From which also almost the entire inhabited world has been planted with the shoots of the branches which have sprung forth from here: like a certain vine which is copious and abundant, while it produces other vines through itself, yet it itself remains, not failing in its own vigor. These and such things, of course, the festival of the day and the place into which you have gathered seem to announce as other joyful tidings. ^B But what shall I do with such a great crowd, since I am of thin voice and slow of tongue, and since, with the sound and din overcoming my speech, I can scarcely speak to those standing by in such a convenient place, so that I might be heard? For otherwise I would have stayed and persevered in good narratives, as to how the forty illustrious companions made both a common struggle and a common colony and habitation everywhere, and in whatever direction they are dispersed, they are received in various places united in hospitality. Wherefore, no one who has received a particular grace of the relics has not received the manifestation of the martyrs in its entirety. For since all were one in Christ, through one they are received with their whole flock. But how can it be that the speech does not do an injury, which has omitted in silence the beginning of the narrative of the things done by them? What then is the beginning? An excellent and distinguished youth, an optimal faith, by which all were chosen, manifest in beauty and comeliness, close in size to the branches, established in the flower of their age. ^C Do you see the voice being disturbed by the tumult, and the speech being interrupted by the noise, so that we, as if tossed by some surging sea, I mean by the voices of the people, must necessarily flee to the calm harbor of silence? But if through the grace of God it happens that we have leisure for the other part of the oration, then, with you listening in silence, the remaining things which are now omitted and pertain to the narrative will be supplied by the help of God. To Him be glory unto ages of ages. Amen. ^D

ORATION II

^A Yesterday, the martyrs were calling the people to themselves; today, they are welcomed as self-invited guests in the inn of the Church. There is a certain convivial law that these circular and common feasts should be offered by the guests to one another in turn. It is necessary, therefore, that we also render to the martyrs a return feast, and perform the same office. But since our ability to speak is poor and meager, it will not be inappropriate if we treat those—who were the hosts and providers of the feast yesterday, and who are the guests today—with the very leftovers taken from them. For even a small part of a rich table suffices for the preparation of a great feast when such are the leftovers. What, then, is this leftover? You surely remember in what part of our discourse we were, when that desired and pleasant tumult for us arising from the multitude of those gathered together confounded the hearing of what was being said: when that living sea of the Church, flooding with the multitude of those flowing together and pressing upon one another, surged at the impulse of those who were always forcing their way in, imitating in its sound the true sea, by breaking and dashing the roar of the waves against our ears as if against coastal cliffs. You remember, surely, those for whom the memory of the martyrs is a care, at what point ^B of the tumult we left off this discourse, tossed as if by a storm. The train and context of the discourse, I think, was this: that those who were chosen for this contest were not of the common and base folk, nor was it a mixed and nameless crowd starting from humble occupations that was raised to this dignity. But first, excelling others in the beauty and strength of their bodies and in the abundance of their vigor, they were enrolled in the military lists; then, having distinguished themselves by a life of virtue and a sober manner of living, they received the grace of martyrdom as a sort of prize and reward for their finished excellence. And if it seems good, so that our discourse might become more pleasant, let us take up everything concerning the martyrs in order, bringing the contest itself before this present theater as if to be seen.

^C There was a certain ancient military company stationed near the neighboring city, guarding the whole nation against the incursions of the barbarians. These men, because of a certain divine apparition granted to them earlier, cultivated the faith with greater zeal than military discipline and affairs. And perhaps it will not be untimely to relate in passing one notable deed of faith performed by those men. For when war with the barbarians had one day been joined, and all the strategic positions had been seized beforehand by the enemy army, and the waters were under the enemy's control, they were reduced to the ultimate danger, whether through the inexperience of our leaders or by some better and more divine counsel and dispensation ^D—that by this fact especially it might appear what the difference is between Christians and outsiders and those alien to the faith. When there was no way to remedy the present situation, and there was great trepidation and despair, since no spring or any source of water coming from elsewhere appeared to them in that place, and there was a danger of succumbing to the

^A adversaries through being besieged by thirst. Then those noble and illustrious men, setting aside their reliance on arms, resolved to implore for themselves an invincible aid, to which none could offer resistance in such formidable circumstances. For, having left behind in the camp those who had not yet received the faith, and having withdrawn by themselves, they imitated the miracle that occurred in the time of the prophet Elijah, requesting with one common and united voice that a release from the desperate straits into which they had fallen might be granted to them from heaven. And while they were praying, the prayer immediately became deed. For while they were still persevering in prayer on bended knees, clouds, gathered from somewhere by a violent gust of wind, stood suspended high above the camp of the enemies; then, thundering with mighty peals and kindling fiery bolts of lightning upon those below, it poured down water ^B more abundant than any river, so that to the adversaries, both the incessant thunderbolts and the mass of the downpour were the cause of utter destruction, while for those who had set in opposition the battle array of their prayers, it sufficed for both purposes: both for the defeat of the opposing forces and for the relief of their thirst, since the overflowing torrents abundantly provided them with drink. To these, then, our own choir of the army was joined; they too, confirmed in the faith by those accounts of the army and nurtured in the same pursuits and exercises, were raised to such a degree of greatness of soul that, by the excellence of their virtue, they stirred up envy against themselves. For just as we have learned from the history of Job that has now been read to us, that the adversary of human life deemed it an injury to himself that Job should be illustrious and well-spoken of for his virtue, and for that reason ^C demanded him for torment, because Job, being truthful, just, and blameless, caused him vexation and annoyance; in the same way, the enemy and invader of good things looked with an evil eye upon these great champions, and could not endure the hoariness of their character, which he observed in their youthful age. He saw the flower of their bodies adorned with continence and sobriety; he saw a certain armed choir, dancing for God through the army, beautiful to behold, fierce and terrible to the eye, with lofty spirit and indomitable courage, swiftness of foot, excellent strength, and a fitting, apt, and convenient compacting of limbs, and in all the advantages that they possessed, their virtue of soul surpassing the goods of the body with its own splendor. He who wanders about the world out of envy walks among them as well. He saw not one truthful man, but a divine company of so many men, all truthful, just, and worshippers of God; he demands them too for his own will. And first, indeed, he tries to persuade the commander of the forces, who was insane in his worship of idols, that he would not otherwise prevail in the victory against the barbarians unless he sacrificed those who adored the name of Christ. ^D When these had been identified as soon as possible on account of their noble confession, and were of their own accord fleeing towards the consummation of their passion, the Enemy at once refused to kill them with the sword (as if that were some mild and benign kind of death), but having crushed them with iron bonds,

he made this the beginning of their punishment. Yet, for them, these bonds were actually an adornment, and a spectacle fine and delightful to the eyes of Christians: a youth, chosen in such number, distinguished by beauty, and superior to others in age. All were joined together in the same bond, just as some crown or necklace placed around the neck, having pearls of equal size strung in a circle. Such were the saints, both united by faith and tightened towards one another by their bonds. For being each beautiful in themselves, they added to each other’s beauty. It is like what happens in heavenly wonders, when on a clear and pure night the grace of the stars is diversified one through another, each contributing its own radiance to the common ornament of the heaven. ^B Such was the spectacle of the saints, truly, as the prophet Ezekiel says somewhere, "the vision of lamps moving to and fro." My account dwells gladly upon the beauty of their appearance. For it knows, as Wisdom says, how to infer the beauty that is in secret from the magnitude and beauty of the creatures, since the purity of the soul shone forth through what was visible, and the man who appeared was a worthy dwelling for Him who is hidden and escapes sight. How beautiful then was the spectacle to those who saw it! Beautiful, I say, to those who wish to gaze upon beautiful and illustrious things; beautiful to angels; beautiful to the supramundane powers; but bitter to the demons, and to those who embraced the worship of demons—men (if they should be called men at all, who excelled to such a degree in the greatness ^C of their nature), soldiers of Christ, armor-bearers of the Holy Spirit, champions of the faith, towers of the divine city. They mocked every punishment of torture, every onset of terrors, and every assault of threats as if it were a childish madness. It was as if they did not surrender their bodies to the tortures, but only the shadows of their bodies; who, having conquered flesh with flesh, and holding the fear of death in contempt, surpassed all the terrors of tyrants by the greatness of their souls, and appeared superior to human standards. Oh, how well they practiced for their bodily trophies! Oh, how well they transferred the experience of war into the battle-line arranged against the devil! They did not arm their hands with ^D a sword, nor shield themselves with a wooden buckler, nor were they fortified with a bronze helmet and greaves, but they took up the armor of God which the commander of the Church, the divine Apostle, describes: shield, and breastplate, and helmet, and sword; in this way they advanced against the opposing power. But leading these was heavenly grace, and leading the devil’s battle-line was he who holds the power of death. The place of their pitched battle was the tribunal of the bloodthirsty men; having taken their stand there, they struggled, the one side skirmishing with threats, while the others resisted by means of their endurance. It was proposed by the adversaries that they should either abjure their faith in the Lord, or be punished with death.

^A Fire was threatened for this, and the sword, and the pit, and whatever other names there are for torments. But one voice was heard in response to all these things: Christ, whom those holy men confessed with their mouths. This was the wound of their adversaries; this was the spear point they hurled at the enemy. By this voice the Adversary was wounded in the very center of his heart. This is the stone that was slung by the hand of David, which did not miss the helmet of the Adversary, at which it was aimed. For the confession of Christ exists as the sling of the good soldier: the enemy falls and loses his head.

But my discourse, as if the reins had been cast off, has slipped away and leaped beyond its proper bounds, venturing to utter the unspeakable, as if it had become a spectator of those things which flee the sight of men. It dares to say that, because of such a voice, which boldly confessed Christ, there was applause on high and praise from the holy angels, acclamation from the citizens of the heavenly city applauding their noble achievement, and joy among the entire heavenly assembly. ^B For what kind of spectacle was formed then for the angels in the world of men! What a conflict between the devil and men did those spectators of our life behold! How different was the encounter from that first struggle, when the serpent defeated Adam! Man did not withstand even one onset of the Evil One then, when he was attacked through a certain specious pretext and bait; but as soon as he rushed upon him, he was overthrown by the fall.

But in all these cases, the attempts of the enemy were vain and ineffective. He offered hopes, but they rejected them; he threatened terrors, but they ridiculed them. Only one fear existed for them alone: to be separated from Christ. One good existed: to be with Christ alone. All other things were but laughter and shadow, trifles and dream-like visions. Because of this, my discourse ventures to speak of things that evade the vision, and says that the entire supramundane army rejoiced at the feat which was being performed magnificently by these athletes. ^C My discourse still carries itself forward and dares to attempt things not to be attempted; it still dares to relate supramundane events: that while these things were being carried out prosperously here in the conflict against the adversaries, the righteous institutor and president of the struggle was bringing forth the crowns destined for the victors, and the Commander of the divine army was preparing the rewards for the winners, and the Holy Spirit was welcoming them with various gifts. For since they professed faith in the Trinity, therefore grace was meted out to them in return by the Trinity. And what was that grace? This very thing: that they were shown to be more excellent than the first athletes, I mean Adam and Eve. Those ones brought down through sin the human nature that was standing; ^D these ones raised up again through their endurance that which was lying in the ruin of their predecessors. Those ones were cast out from paradise to the earth; these ones migrated from here to paradise. Those ones armed death against themselves (for the weapon of death, it is said, is sin); these ones made useless, through their own virtue and fortitude, the death that had been armed by sin, by enduring the

^A sharp points of suffering, so that it might be rightly said, "Where, O death, is thy sting? Where, O Hades, is thy victory?" (1 Cor. xv, 55). What is more wretched than the fruit of a tree? What is more common than wood? A fruit commended by a certain color and sweetness of taste caused the charm and pleasantness of Paradise to be esteemed as little and neglected (Gen. iii, 6). ^B But to these great combatants not even the sun itself seemed sweet; rather, they even voluntarily alienated themselves from it, so that they might not fall away from the true Light. What does the account say regarding Eve (for I am carried along to run through the deeds of our first parents further than the subject requires)? "She saw," it says, "that it was pleasing to the eyes and fair to the taste." Then they exchanged the grace found in those things for Paradise. But for these men, the things that fall under sight were the very pleasure of taste: heaven, sun, earth, people, fatherland, mothers, brothers, friends, kinsmen, companions—what is sweeter to look upon than these? What is more precious to come to for the taste? You know, children, your affection for your parents. You know, fathers, your disposition toward your children. You know, you who look upon the sweetness in the sun; you are not ignorant, you who are a lover of your brother, of the natural relationship toward fraternity; you know, young man, the grace derived from companions, how much they sweeten your life. But to those [martyrs], all these things were hostile, all were alien. One good alone appeared to them: Christ. They renounced all things that they might gain Him. The time in bonds was not short, and for the saints, as the punishment was prolonged, the desire for the consummation grew in intensity. And just as those who cultivate bodily fitness, when they have acquired sufficient strength in the gymnasium, thus confidently proceed to the contests, in the same way these men also, having been sufficiently trained in piety through bonds and imprisonment, were thus led forward to the crown of the contests. ^C The sequence of the discourse has arrived at the end, or rather, at the summit of the whole well-accomplished feat. This was the time; these are the days of the contest; this is the prologue to Pascha, the mystery of the holy Quadragesima. Forty days are given to us for propitiation, and there are an equal number of crowns for the saints. And am I perhaps thought by you to be superfluous and a chatterer, relating to you your own wonders, and soothing your ears with your own goods? But yet, so that the discourse may not abandon you incomplete, we too shall run along with the saints to the end of the contests. It was freezing on that day. And there is absolutely no need for you to be taught what this frost was like, since you can make a conjecture from the present day—a frost that penetrates even the hairs. You know the intensity and the harshness, both you who are newcomers to these places and you who are natives, and you have no need to be taught by a speech; but even if some other person should describe how miraculous the winters among you usually are, ^D how rivers flowing eternally stand still, the freezing force opposing the current and turning the waves into stone; and how the neighboring lake needs some markers to be recognized as a lake, turning into dry land

^A For what is usually done by those who wish to ride above its waves—since they are frozen over as if by a solidifying process—they continue to do. I have often known even water to be fashioned by fire for the locals, when they break off a piece of the water and, after melting it with fire as if it were bronze or iron, they turn the stone back into water. Such was the season at the time of the contest, as the evil [of the cold] had taken on an unnatural intensity from the northern winds, just as one may hear from those who recount these miracles.

After they had therefore clearly proclaimed the name of Christ in public, and by such a declaration had already shown themselves to be crowned ^B as victors, and as they were pressing toward the completion of their death, this manner of contest was devised for them. The tyrant commanded that the athletes be tormented and extinguished by the frost. Oh, the weakness of words and thoughts! How far short of the dignity of the subject does speech fall! An order of death, and frost, and torture, and the expectation of such a punishment; and this blessed youth, with laughter and jest and gaiety, made their way to the place of execution. The athletes’ race was toward their passion, a race both sacred and intense, and a struggle to snatch away the crown of confession. Their desire for victory was equal; no one was seen to lag behind in fervor. But unanimously and all together, upon occupying that place, as if it were a public bath ^C that was free at that moment, and as if they themselves were about to cleanse and wash their bodies in the bath, they put aside their cloaks without hesitation, all echoing that saying of Job: "Naked we entered into the world, and naked we shall depart unto Him who brought us hither; we brought nothing into the world, nor do we owe the export of anything; nay rather, having entered naked, we shall depart full of the treasures gathered from our good confession." Saying these things, and bracing and strengthening themselves with such words, they surrendered their bodies to be constrained by the frost. And while the nature of the elements yielded to the freezing, the nature of the martyrs was as if indomitable and unconquered; or rather, the nature [of the body] underwent its own proper [fate] ^D and accepted the painful, but the greatness of soul of the athletes contended even against nature itself. For the strength of the body was gradually being dissolved, wasting away and being consumed by the freezing; but the vigor of the soul became all the greater. The bloom of the body grew dark, its beauty faded, and the healthy color of the flesh withered away. Fingers fell off, being gradually cut away and severed by the frost, and all limbs and the instruments of sensation were shattered and fell apart by the bitterness of the cold. For the flesh, turning black and swelling up, as it split around the limbs, sloughed off from the bones, and the conditions of mortality were received into their awareness. And thus, for them, death, proceeding little by little, was prolonged, extended over three days. For to such a point the

^A awareness of them endured, they remained in the position where they had been assigned from the beginning, in all things becoming victors against their adversary. But who would relate to me what followed these events in a manner worthy of them? What discourse could describe that divine procession when those holy bodies were conveyed to the fire upon wagons? How, in place of the one stolen away by the devil, the prison guard was introduced by grace to fill the number? Who will recount to me concerning that mother, a root worthy of the martyr she produced, who, when her own son was left behind by the executioner because he still breathed, and for this reason was not taken away with the others upon the wagon, did not endure the insult, seeing the executioner’s humanity toward the brave man? But rather she chided him for having separated the athlete from his fellow combatants. And she, standing by the martyr, who had already begun to stiffen and was immovable ^B from the freezing cold, and seeing him held back by a cold and feeble breath, living only so much as to sense his torments, looking at his mother with a dim and withered gaze, and with a dead and languid hand gesturing and comforting her, and inciting her to bear things bravely—when his mother saw these things, did she experience anything motherly? Were her bowels moved, or did she rend her tunic, or did she cast herself upon her son, warming and reviving his numbness and failing strength with warm arms? Away with such thoughts! Even to say such a thing is among those that are absurd. We truly know the tree from its fruit; a rotten tree cannot produce good fruits. llbracketalt-version omittedrrbracket Since, therefore, the fruit of the martyrdom is good, praise the mother who bore the best of children, who is saved through the begetting of children, as ^C the Apostle says. For since she presented such fruit to God, she made a defense for the common nature of women. “You are not my child,” she says, “not a scion of my travail; having received God, you were born according to God. You have received the power to become a child of God. Run to your Father, do not be left behind by your peers, do not come second to the crown, do not make your mother’s prayer unfulfilled; you will not grieve your mother by becoming a crown-bearer, a victor, and a triumpher.” Saying these things, and bracing herself beyond her nature—or rather, being braced by the Spirit—she herself placed him who was born of her alongside the others upon the wagon, accompanying and leading the athlete on with a cheerful countenance. And what followed these things? The saints struggled in the air, ^D they sanctified even the fire by their own addition, becoming fuel for the flame. They brought the blessing even to the water. In all things the divine sayings were being fulfilled. The three youths take up into the common hymnody cold and heat: the cold through the freezing, the heat through the burning; then they passed through fire and water. But the discourse desires to pass over these as things already known, and at the proper time to consider concerning one of those previously sought.

^A Now, to examine: When man was cast out of Paradise, a flaming sword which turned was appointed to guard the entrance. And the reason for this providence of God was that man might not pass on to the tree of life, partake of it, and remain immortal. You remember, by all means, the things that were sought; and you remember, as is reasonable, the things discovered by us relevant to the investigation; but if we were to begin again from the beginning and go through and analyze the whole question from the start, the time would be prolonged beyond what the present occasion permits. This, then, was the question sought: Whether Paradise is inaccessible even to the saints on account of the sword that turns; and whether the athletes are excluded from Paradise? What, then, is the promise ^B for which they undertake the contests of piety, and if they will have a status inferior to the thief, to whom the Lord said, "Today you shall be with me in Paradise"? Although the thief did not approach the cross of his own volition; but because he was near to salvation, the keen and ingenious thief caught sight of the treasure, and seizing the opportunity, he stole life, having used his art of thievery beautifully and skillfully, saying, "Lord, remember me in your kingdom." Then he indeed attains Paradise; but as for the saints, does the flaming sword render the entrance obstructed? Truly, the question has its solution within itself. For this very reason the Scripture does not show the sword standing always face to face ^C with those entering, but describes it as also turning, so that to the unworthy it may appear in front, but to the worthy it may be behind their backs, opening for them an unhindered entrance to life, into which they have passed, having safely traversed the flame through the boldness of their contests; we too, having safely passed through it, may arrive within Paradise, strengthened by their intercession for the good confession of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

BY THE SAME: ENCOMIUM ON THE FORTY MARTYRS, PRONOUNCED IN THE MARTYRION

^A Roman soldiers, according to ancestral law and ancient custom—which they received from their forefathers and have preserved until the present time—at the beginning of the current month put on their armor and proceed to a field sufficiently level and flat, where it is possible for them to extend the running of horses, to drill in military matters, and to practice every form of armed exercise; at the same time, they make a commemoration of the year and celebrate the day with splendor. I, however, by celebrating the memory of the martyrs—which I proclaimed to you on the previous day—having armed through this memory the forty soldiers of Christ, who surpassed all readiness in their struggles, set them forth today as a marvel to those able to see: the ornament of the Church, the joy of the peoples, and the glory of God who strengthened them. It is indeed an excellent and highly beneficial thing for the young to be nourished by narrations of virtue and great deeds, and for men to be brought to maturity. Hearing is the most opportune of the senses, and no less instructive than sight. For it brings teaching into the soul through the ears clearly; and it is no small danger whether the narrations happen to be good or base. For as those things are spoken, it is inevitable that such images are produced in the imagination; and thought and the continuous contemplation of the mind inflame a man with the desire to do the things which he grasps in his thought. Therefore, I desire you to facilitate my words with calmness and stillness, so that the blessed martyrs may be honored as befits them, and you may be trained through this memory in piety and the love of God. ^{B C} But for me, a double struggle remains, and a fear lest I debase the subject matter through the frailty of my exposition. For if one considers the greatness and majesty of the matter at hand, it is so great that, beyond all speech...

it carries off the victory; whether one looks to him who, before us, crowned the saints with his own wisdom—a man whose miracle is shared by the whole world, an exact standard of Christian education and of that which is handed down from outside, an image of philosophy, a model and balance of bishops, a teacher of works and words in harmony, possessing among all men an undisputed reputation, except perhaps among those for whom not even Christ escapes blasphemy. For just as no one denies that the sun gives light and heat, so no one will deny that the great Basil is adorned with every beauty of virtue. He, then, the sublime praiser of sublime things and the holy venerator of the holy, fulfilled the debt owed to the renowned victors according to the ability he possessed. Yet it is not right for me to be silent on that account, because he previously proclaimed the admirable deeds of the martyrs in a magnificent way; for our purpose at present is not to compete with him who has already spoken, but to ensure the benefit of you, the listeners; and everyone truly receives benefit as they are able, when it is supplied by those who are more opulent.

^B The forty soldiers, for their part, were enlisted for the duties and way of life of the Roman emperor, but they were Christians in faith and pious in religion. But since he who held the empire at that time—being one of those who worshipped many gods, and having that bitter counsel and decree suggested to him by demons—harried the Christians with a new law and edict, commanding all subjects either to offer incense to the demons or, if they refused to do so, to be condemned to death, and before their death to endure many outrages upon their whole bodies; then, indeed, the blessed ones, seizing this as an opportunity to display their fortitude against the tyrannical cruelty and the law hateful to God, and detaching themselves from the other soldiers, constituting an excellent and Christ-loving cohort which campaigned with the power of the Spirit, openly stood against the detestable decree. And all in concert, as if from one mouth, proclaimed our faith, saying that they cared little for this mortal and fleeting life, and that they would willingly expose their bodies to various types of torments.

Wherefore, the more cruel executor and administrator of the cruel law, having understood the mind of the ^C saints, strove to apply punishments equal to their eagerness and readiness, and to terrify their intrepid and fearless spirits with a new and unusual method of striking fear. If I threaten them with the sword, he says, they will be little moved, nor will they yield, for they are men who have lived in arms from childhood and are accustomed to bearing iron. If I inflict other types of torments upon them, they will endure them nobly, inasmuch as they have long experience of stripes and wounds. Nor is fire a cause of fear to those who are as hardened in spirit as these men are. For this reason, a punishment must be devised which will produce the most grievous torment, ^D and which—

^A can endure for a sufficiently long time. What counsel, therefore, did this inventor and craftsman of evils take against the saints? Looking about anxiously, he found, as it were, an airy punishment, which the season and the region provided him. The season, indeed, was winter; the place, Armenia, a border province, as you know, which is harsh in winter, not even providing a temperate summer season for its inhabitants, but being warmed only so much as to nourish the grain—yet the vine is unknown among them, and he who has not traveled far does not know a cluster of grapes; such a man asks about a grape just as we do about things that grow among the Indians. There, while snow is still on the ground, the plowman cuts the earth, and a snowfall greets the harvest; and as for the harvester, the winds strip him of his clothes unless he binds himself very tightly with his garments and struggles against the violence of the blasts. Autumn and spring are almost non-existent there, as if dissipated by their evil neighbor, the violence of winter. ^B In that region, then, at the start of the month, he stripped the saints of all their clothing and set them under the open sky with their bodies totally bare, with a punishment contrary to that employed by the king of the Assyrians when he afflicted the disciples of piety with his Babylonian furnace. Burning fire and cold, which binds and wastes away, are not comparable in the pain they cause; for fire is akin to the sword, quickly bringing about death, but cold, while having an equal power to produce pain, protracts the end. For, in general, all those maladies that are caused by cold are more enduring, such as quartan fevers, cancer, carbuncles, and other things of that genus which the sons of physicians declare to be produced in bodies by cold matter. Thus those who are colder and more obese are also slower and more sluggish, having a body not particularly apt for use. This can also be observed in animals devoid of reason: for the warmer ones are quicker and more fit for urgent necessity; those, however, that consist of a contrary complexion are slow and, as it were, bound by torpor. Thus the horse is swift, accustomed to being stirred to a run by the sound of the whip; the donkey is slow, and can scarcely be urged along its path with cudgels. The leopard is swift, bounding over ^C the meadows with a dry and warm body; the bear, on the contrary, being composed of thicker limbs, is slow. I have not put these things before you from nature’s inner sanctum without reason, but so that you might understand what kind of punishment those noble combatants underwent. Winter makes navigable rivers passable on foot, and causes water that is accustomed to flow to harden into the consistency of stone; indeed, it dissolves rocks when it has penetrated to their depths, and acts in like manner upon contrary bodies—for it turns the soft into stone, and dissolves the hard. Thus, when wine freezes, it takes the form of the jar in which it is contained, and liquid oil stands solid, conformed to the shape of the vessel; glass and pottery, moreover, are broken by the moisture. Even animals that live on the mountains and in the open either perish or, because of the magnitude of the evil, forget their natural ferocity; for stags and gazelles huddle in their pens, neither fearing dogs ^D nor escaping those who approach. For the greater danger always puts to flight the fear of lesser ones.

^A Birds, meanwhile, dwell with men and remain under their roofs. But men dig the sea and strike the water with stone-cutting tools, and those near to one another cannot intermingle. Such a season provided weapons for the tyrant against the martyrs. For it was fitting, as it seems, that this blessed cohort should struggle with a new kind of punishment, so that they might gain a singular and extraordinary glory beyond many other martyrs. They stood, therefore, trembling, and their limbs were freezing, but with minds unmoved and imperturbable they exhibited a spectacle to angels, men, and demons... Angels awaited the separation of souls from bodies, that they might take them up to their own allotted place. Men, however, awaited the end, putting to the test the strength and power of human nature: whether, because of fear and hope for the future, it might be superior to such great and intense tortures. But demons paid close attention to what was happening, longing to see the downfall of the athletes and their cowardly abandonment of the perils. But their hope was confounded, because of Him who strengthened the martyrs from within. For each one beheld his own mutilations, and all beheld those of the others. One lay there with feet or toes falling away; another lay with his innate warmth now completely chilled and extinguished. But just as the most violent winds, when they blow over a place suitable for them, then shake the tops of the trees and uproot them and cast them to the ground; even so were the band of the blessed ones brought low by this winter: the noble plants of Paradise, the ornament of the human race, the roots of our germination, the soldiers of Paul, the guards of Christ, the destroyers of altars, the builders of the churches, those who enrolled themselves to fight against the barbarians, and who finished the struggle against the common enemy of all mankind. ^B Furthermore, they were in no way constrained by the unavoidable necessity of death, but salvation was in their power, if they had allowed themselves to be softened. For a bath was situated not far away, which had been placed deliberately near the place of punishment; the door stood open, and those standing around were beckoning. For the tyrant, the sower and author of persecution and various iniquity, had installed the bait of transgression near to those who were already stiffening with cold, persuading them to hasten of their own accord to recovery and healing, imitating, of course, his own father, who fraudulently induced the first parents to taste the forbidden tree. But they sharpened their fortitude all the more, not ignorant that endurance performs a proving only ^C when one abstains from the use and convenience of that thing which lies within one's own power: which it has been recorded that the divine Daniel did in earlier times. For when he was advised to partake of rich and sumptuous foods and drinks, out of hatred and detestation for things sacrificed to idols, he chose a diet of seeds. ^D

He flourished and thrived while fasting, and without food he appeared more supple and corpulent than those who lived in luxury; for it belongs to God to grant such gifts to His faithful servants beyond their hope.

^A But since envy is accustomed to cling to great undertakings, there was a danger that this blessed company might be cut short, and we were near to being deprived of the fullness of the fourth decade. For one soldier, at the very moment of victory, succumbed to the impatience of the cold. Woe is me! He abandoned his fellow soldiers and, by the crafty artifice of the tyrant, approached the bath, sparing his flesh, which was already wasting away, for the love of this present life; for he both fell from his hope and did not attain this mortal life, breathing out his soul in the very act of transgression—a wretched Judas among the martyrs, neither a disciple nor wealthy, and yet, like him, dragged toward the noose. And let no one wonder at this. It is the custom of the devil to employ such-like machinations against those whom he subjugates to himself. He deceives and flatters them in various ways so as to cast them down; and once he has cast them down, he immediately tramples upon them, and mocks the one lying there. He exults over the calamity with shame, and in the shame of the one who has been seduced, he finds pleasure. Wherefore the Psalmist also called him an "enemy and avenger" (Ps. VIII, 3), signifying the changeableness of his character through the difference of the names. For that one never becomes a true companion or friend to men; he only feigns friendliness when he wishes to don the mask of deception.

^B But the helper of our weakness, and the planter of both good words and deeds, found for Himself, after the example of Abraham, a sheep for a sacrifice from his own household—a confessor from those who were blaspheming, and a martyr from the order of those who were persecutors. For one of the tyrant's executioners, being deemed worthy of a vision of angels coming to the martyrs, and being encompassed by the appearance of the holy spirits—just as Paul was once [by the glory] of Christ when he was journeying to Damascus (Acts IX, 1 sqq.)—he immediately changed his mind and, stripping himself of his garments, mingled with those who were frozen. And in a brief moment of time he became everything: a proselyte, a confessor, a martyr, washing in his own blood the bath of regeneration—with blood, I say, that was dead and not flowing. A man deserving of the crown, a man worthy of all honor; through him the Church of God has forty. Because of this noble one, the band of martyrs is not maimed. Because of this proselyte, we celebrate the festival with a perfect number. And to the devil, a clever thing happened, worthy of laughter; for while he stole a soldier, he ^C lost a persecutor and an executioner.

What, then, happened after this? Those thrice-blessed ones arrived where they were hastening. But the master of the torture, unable to bear the success of the martyrs, waged war against their dead bodies, commanding that the dwellings of their holy souls be delivered to the fire, in this matter imitating savage beasts and ^D cruel men, whose nature they ex

^Ahibit when they tear to pieces the garments thrown off by those who are being pursued; but the enemies, once they have departed, burn and destroy the houses. And one of the martyrs might justly have said to him: "No longer, O foolish one, do I dread your cruelty. For I was afraid so long as the souls were present and within their frozen bodies, lest the greatness of the tortures might overcome the fortitude of the pious; but now that this fear has passed, use the clay that remains as you wish; even if you consume the flesh, I shall not care. For the more you display your raging cruelty, the more you crown the victory of those who have departed; for the noble attacks of the adversaries become precise proofs of the fortitude of the victors."

^BBut why should we dwell on this at length? The bodies were burned, and the fire received them. But that dust and the remains of the furnace were distributed throughout the world, so that almost every province might participate in this blessing. I too have a portion of this sacred gift, and I have placed the bodies of my parents next to the relics of these soldiers, so that at the time of the resurrection they may rise full of hope and confidence along with these powerful protectors. For I know that they have power, and I have seen clear proofs of the confidence they possess before God; and indeed I wish to speak of one thing that is among the marvels of their operation. In the village that belongs to me, where the remains of these thrice-blessed ones rest, there is a small town nearby; Ibora is what they call it. ^CIn this town, according to the custom of the Romans, when a census of soldiers was being conducted, one of the soldiers came to the aforementioned village, having been appointed by the tribune for the safeguarding of the location, so that he might hold back the outbursts and injuries of his fellow-soldiers, which those serving in the military are wont to inflict upon the country folk with arrogance. Now, this man was afflicted in one of his feet and was lame; and the malady was long-standing and incurable. But after he had been in the martyrium and the place of the rest of the saints, and had poured out prayers to God, and also implored the intercession of the saints, lo, by night a man of venerable appearance appeared to him and, after saying other things, "You are lame, O soldier," he said, "and you are in need of a cure? But give me your foot so that I may touch it." ^DAnd having taken hold of it in his sleep, he pulled it forcefully. While the nocturnal vision was doing this, such a sound was heard by those who were awake as is wont to occur when a bone is dislodged from its natural joint and then violently restored; so that both those who were sleeping with him and the soldier himself were awakened, and the man immediately stood up and walked soundly and naturally, as he had been accustomed before. I myself saw this miracle, having associated with the soldier himself, who spread this miracle received from the martyrs everywhere and among everyone, and proclaimed and celebrated the kindness of his fellow soldiers.

If, however, I ought to add something that touches me in a particular way, I shall not omit it. For when we were about to celebrate the first feast day for the relics and were intending to bring the urn into the holy church, my mother,

for her life was with God, and she also remarkably adorned every feast day—commanded me to come to participate in the proceedings. But since I was far away, still young, and in the rank of the laity, and, as is wont to happen in urgent matters, occupied with other business, I foolishly took the summons with some annoyance, implicitly blaming my mother for not having postponed the festival to another time, but instead having pulled me away from various occupations and brought me here, even before any meeting had begun. I arrived, therefore, at the village. And since a vigil was being held in the garden, where the relics of the saints were also happening to be honored with psalms, a vision of the following sort appeared to me in a dream while I was sleeping in a nearby room: I thought that I wished to enter the garden where the vigil was actually being performed. When I reached the door, a multitude of soldiers was seen stationed at the entrance; ^B but all of them suddenly rising up, brandishing rods, and rushing at me threateningly, would not allow me entry. And I would have even received blows, had I not been rescued by the intercession of one who, as it seemed, was more humane than the rest. But when sleep left me, and I came to an accounting of my transgression regarding the summons, I realized what the fearful apparition of the soldiers portended. With many tears I lamented my own foolishness, and I sprinkled the very urn of the relics with bitter tears, so that God might be favorable to me, and the holy soldiers might grant me oblivion for my fault.

These things I have recounted ^C so that we may be persuaded that the martyrs live, and are God's bodyguards and assessors, who today have benefited and adorned our Church. And this very Lenten season, which holds the memory of the forty martyrs, is more bright and greater, and the month is more illustrious than other months, nor does the harsh winter seem difficult to me anymore, nor do I complain at the inclemency of the present time. For this harsh weather, having provided an occasion for the persecutor, brought this holy band to its end. And just as the mother of the seven Maccabees, because she had a soul that was more a lover of God than a lover of the flesh, neither accused the cruelty of Antiochus the tyrant of Syria, nor did she find the punishments and calamities ^D of her sons grievous; rather, she accepted the desolation as a benefit and the childlessness as an aid; nor indeed did Stephen, when being stoned, consider himself to be harmed, but rather to be brought to life; so also we owe gratitude to the enemies of God for the successful outcome, since they became the cause of such great goods for us, even if they did not act with the intent of benefiting, but of attacking. For even enemies sometimes confer benefits, though unwillingly; nor did the devil profit Job less than his genuine friends. The king of the Assyrians was a benefactor to Daniel. And let the three youths give thanks to the fiery furnace; and let Isaiah, sawn in two, praise the Hebrews. And let Zechariah, slaughtered between the temple and the altar, honor his murderers; and let John, having his head cut off, proclaim Herod as his benefactor; and let the apostles [honor] those by whom they were bound and scourged; and let all the martyrs [love] those by whom they suffered persecution.

those who persecute them; for if they had not opened the stadium, the athletes would not have demonstrated their fortitude in public. But what indeed should one admire more concerning the praise of those who are set before us as our subject: their multitude, their fortitude, or their sincere and unfalsified concord? ^A Yet let us not pass over the first number ungratefully. For he who has such great intercessors will never depart empty from prayers and supplication, even if he be exceedingly burdened by sins. Of this concept and hope, God Himself is witness in the conversation with Abraham, when he was supplicating for the Sodomites, and not seeking forty, but ten righteous men for the preservation of a city about to perish.

We, however, according to the Apostle, having such a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, should proclaim ourselves blessed, rejoicing in hope, constant in prayer, and partaking in the memories of the saints. For the forty martyrs are strong champions against our ^B adversaries, and worthy intercessors for petitioning the common Lord. Protected by their support, let the Christian be confident, even if the devil weaves temptations, and wicked men rise up, and tyrants burn with fury, and the sea rages, and the earth refuses to bring forth what it is accustomed to bring forth for men, and finally the heavens threaten terrors. For their power and efficacy are sufficient for every necessity and circumstance, and they receive rich grace from Christ, to whom all glory is due unto the ages. Amen.

BY THE SAME FUNERAL ORATION FOR HIS OWN BROTHER, THE GREAT BASIL.

^C God has imposed a good order upon these our anniversary festivals, which we have already celebrated and celebrate again through a certain ordered succession during these days. The order for us, however, of these spiritual solemnities and assemblies is that which the great Paul also taught, having received the knowledge of such things from above and from heaven. For he says first that the apostles and

^A prophets were appointed, and after them pastors and teachers. The order of the solemn assemblies of the year corresponds, therefore, to this apostolic sequence. But I do not count the first one among the others. For the grace regarding the appearance of the only-begotten Son, which was displayed to the world through the birth from the Virgin, is not simply a holy assembly, but the holy of holies, and the assembly of assemblies. Let us, therefore, number those that follow it. First, the apostles and prophets have begun for us the spiritual chorus. For the two gifts—the apostolic spirit and that of prophecy—are indeed altogether centered in them. And these are: Stephen, Peter, James, John, Paul; then, after these, keeping his own order, the shepherd and teacher ^B initiates the assembly before us. Who is this? Shall I mention the name, or does the grace and the festival itself suffice to point out the man? For when you have heard of a teacher and shepherd after the apostles, you have surely understood him who follows the apostles as shepherd and teacher. I mean him who is the vessel of election, Basil, lofty in life and in speech, acceptable and pleasing to God from his birth, grey-haired in character from his youth, who was educated according to Moses in all the wisdom of the external sciences, but from infancy even to perfection and completion was nurtured in, grew with, and attained maturity in the sacred writings. Hence, in teaching every man in all wisdom, both divine and external, like some ^C mighty and doughty ambidextrous warrior, arming himself against his opponents through both forms of education, he surpasses those struggling against him on both sides, excelling in each of them those who thought they possessed some strength against the truth in the other; by overturning those who cite the Scriptures from the standpoint of heresy using the Scriptures themselves, and entangling the Greeks through their own learning. Yet his victory over his opponents did not bring ruin to the defeated, but resurrection. For those who were defeated by the truth became victors and winners of crowns against error and falsehood. We have now also this man who arranges for us the present assembly, the genuine mouthpiece of the Spirit, the brave soldier of Christ, ^D the loud-voiced herald of the saving proclamation, the struggler and champion of the boldness for Christ; to whom time gives only the secondary place after the apostles. For if Basil had shared in human life at the same time as Paul, he would certainly have been written of together with Paul, just like Silvanus and Timothy. And that I do not conjecture outside of the truth, let us contemplate the argument in this way: Let it be laid aside to be the first of the saints in time. For the nature of time in the past and in the future stands equally toward virtue and vice, being neither the one nor the other; for it is in the power of choice

and purpose of the will, and not in time, that the good consists. But let faith be compared with faith, and prayer with prayer. For if any just evaluator were to compare the miracles with one another, he would find in both the same grace, which from the same Spirit, according to the fitness and proportion of faith, subsisted in each. But if Paul precedes in time, and Basil was shown forth and appointed many ages later, you are speaking of the work of the divine administration undertaken for the sake of men, not offering a proof of a diminution regarding virtue. For indeed, Moses was many times later than Abraham; Samuel later than Moses, and Elijah later than him; and the great John later than that, and after John, Paul; and after him, Basil. Just as, therefore, in the preceding cases, the time that came later did not in the least disadvantage the saints regarding the glory which is joined with God, so now, in this discussion of virtue, let the advantage of ^B age be passed over in silence. For such a matter, as we said, contains a demonstration of God's providence, by which He provides for men. For He who, as the prophet says, knows all things before they come to be, and perceives that the malice of the devil is extended and transmitted along with the ages of men and proceeds toward an end, prepares a medicine suitable and adapted to the sickness of each age, so that He might not leave the disease of men without cure, which, if it lacks that by which it might be healed, is accustomed to subdue and bring the human race under its power.

For the sake of this, when the philosophy of the Chaldeans was once vigorous and prevailing—they who established that the causes of things depended upon a certain movement of the stars, and did not think that any power superior to the visible stars presided over and governed them, which was the creator of all things—God then brought forth Abraham, who, using such discipline as a ladder, sought out Him who is understood through the things that are seen, and became a guide to those who came after him for faith in the God who truly is, by his own act of abandoning his ancestral error and that affinity which is said to exist between the instruments of the senses and the creature that appears in the stars, and leading the way to that faith. Then, when the Egyptians had discovered a certain demonic and sorcerous wisdom—from the suggestion, I suppose, of him who leads men into the depths through various deceptions—He brought forth Moses, who by the excellence of his wisdom would dispel and abolish the Egyptian deception. But he who knows the Scripture altogether understands the event of which I speak: how, when those sorcerers provided a demonstration of their own deceptions in opposition to the divine signs, Moses was superior in every way and, with help sent from above, destroyed all the Egyptian power. And you understand this as much through other things as through the ^C enigma of the rods.

As time went on, and the affairs of the Israelites were in a confused state through anarchy, being improperly disposed in a democratic disorder, Samuel arises—who through himself restrains those who are subject and prevents their mingling with foreigners—and then, having changed the anarchy into the establishment of a kingdom, he gathered the foreign people around himself, having become the lawgiver of the royal dynasty. ^D

^A Following these things, many generations later, when that Ahab, that slave to a woman, had himself departed from his ancestral laws, having become subject to a delicate and soft woman, and through her having drawn upon himself the error of idols, he led the Israelitish people into the same defection with himself. Then God reveals Elijah, who possessed a healing power equal to the magnitude of the human malady; a man who despised the curation and care of the body, with a squalid face, shaded by the multitude of his own hair, living in a peculiar manner, venerable to look upon, with a sad countenance devoid of laughter, with his gaze directed straight ahead in the same direction he had set his mind, covering only so much of his body with a goatskin as is most decent to hide, while enduring the air for the rest of his body, and heedless of any hardship from both heat and cold. Having appeared to the people, he brings Israel to a sound mind by the scourge of famine, rebuking the insolence and petulance of the people by such a blow and punishment, as if it were a leather lash; later, moreover, he cures the disease of idol-worship by the divine fire that was kindled at the sacrifice. ^B After him, another appears, many times later, who, having been brought forth through Zechariah and Elizabeth in the spirit and power of Elijah, and having lived in the world, summoned the whole nation to himself in the wilderness through his preaching, and washed away the filth contracted by the blood of the prophets, the manifold impurities, and the various knots of sin—which, like sandals, the entire people were bound in at that time. By the preaching of repentance he loosened all such evils, and by the sprinkling of water at the Jordan he washed them clean; he demonstrated in no way less than those who had advanced in virtue before him. And what of Paul after him? Was he prevented from attaining to the loftiest degree of divine progress because he was later in time? Did he not immediately become a lover of the divine beauty that flashed before his eyes, as soon as he cast off the scales from his eyes—scales that were a symbol of the covering of the heart, which, placed upon the perceptive faculty of the souls of the Jews, caused them to be blind to the truth? ^C Did he not, after he had laid aside in the mystic laver the filth he had contracted from ignorance and error, immediately have his nature transformed to a more august condition, and, as if having sloughed off this thick and fleshy garment, dwell in the secret holy places of the heavens? ^D And being hindered by no weight of bodily impediment, did he not even enter within the divine garden of paradise, and there was he not perfected in the ineffable mystical instruction by the Truth, and from thence, did he not receive the power of the Word for the obedience of faith among all the nations? Whence he becomes the father of almost the entire inhabited world, bringing into the light through spiritual birth-pangs those who were being formed through him in accordance with Christ into piety. If, therefore, in the case of the other saints, the order of time did not at all diminish the progress toward God,

^A nor did the grace of the Spirit—the common provider of perfection for each—operate unequally, we do not hesitate to say that the man of God in our own generation, that great vessel of truth, Basil, is to be numbered among those renowned saints; for neither does the sequence of time hinder his lofty desire for God, nor does it hinder the divine grace in the perfecting of his soul. Thus, the purpose of the divine economy might not be frustrated, nor might some part of the assistance provided by it toward the mystery be diminished or held of less account than is proper due to the cause of time. For no one is entirely ignorant of the purpose for which our teacher was designated and brought forth at this time. ^B For since the madness of men regarding the worship of idols had been extinguished by the preaching of Christ, and all the objects of foolish men's worship lay already in ruins and oblivion, almost the entire inhabited world having been permeated by the preaching of piety, such that he who holds the principality and empire of human deception was everywhere driven out and expelled by the name of Christ; the author of evil—who is ingenious in wickedness—did not lack a crafty and vicious scheme to again make the human race subject to himself through deceit. Under the pretext and guise of Christianity, he secretly brought back the worship of idols, having persuaded those who looked toward him not to fall away from the creature, but to worship and venerate it ^C and to think that the creature is God, which is addressed by the name of the Son. For if the creation is out of things that are not, and is alienated from the divine essence according to its own nature, no one, he argued, should be concerned about that, but having placed the name of Christ upon the creature, they should worship it, serve it, have their hope of salvation fixed in it, and await judgment from it. And to summarize the matter, when the apostate had invaded men who were capable of all his malice—I speak of Arius and Aetius, Eunomius, Eudoxius, and besides these, many others—through them he brought back again the worship of idols which was already failing, as has been said, under the name of Christianity. The disease was growing strong against men who worshipped the creature more than the Creator, to such an extent that the fraud was confirmed by the help of the emperors of that time, and all the high magistrates and officials championed this disease. And when almost all men had been brought over to the evil that was prevailing and growing strong, ^D then the great Basil was brought forth by God, just as Elijah was in the time of Ahab; and taking hold of the priesthood, which had already in a certain way collapsed and was neglected, he made the word of faith, which had like a flickering lamp gone out, shine forth again through the grace that dwelt in him. And as a beacon appearing in the darkness to those wandering upon the sea, he turned the Church back toward the straight path, mingling with prefects, associating with generals, kings next page begins: παῤῥησιαζόμενος, ἐπ' ἐκκλησίαις βοῶν, τοὺς πόρρω- Α θεν ἀφεστηκότας, καθ' ὁμοιότ…

speaking freely before emperors, crying out in assemblies and churches, reconciling and attaching those who were far off by the example of Paul through his epistles, escaping and avoiding the grasp of those who sought to ^A bind him, having nothing in himself by which he might be held or conquered by his adversaries. For he was stronger and more firm than to be conquered or overcome by those who had confiscated his goods, since he had himself mulcted himself of his possessions for the hope of the future kingdom. He was free from the fear of exile, because he considered the paradise of men to be one sole fatherland, and looked upon the whole earth as the common place of exile for nature. But since he daily died, and through mortification was always willingly being consumed, when at last could he have feared the death that was threatened by his enemies? To him, indeed, it was a calamity that he could not frequently imitate the contests of the martyrs for the truth, since nature is subject to only one death. And when, on one occasion, a certain prefect threatened to tear his liver from his vitals in order to terrify him, he—smiling and mocking the foolish and insolent threat—said, “I will be grateful to you for this wish and intention. For it is truly not a little burdensome to have a liver pressing upon one’s vitals. If you ^B cast it out, therefore, as you threaten, you will liberate my body from a troublesome and hateful thing.”

Why, then, does the fact that he dwelt in this life after other saints diminish his splendor and brilliance in divine matters, such that for this reason the celebration held in his name seems to be of less account than the festivals which are celebrated for the honor and memory of other saints? If it seems good to you, consider and weigh the matter by comparing his life with some one of the saints of an earlier age. Paul loved God; for this is, in truth, the head of all good things—the boon of love, I say, from which proceeds all faith and all hope, and that good which is awaited through patience, and steadfastness and constancy in every good thing, and the possession ^C of excellence in every spiritual gift. But let us examine how great the measure of love toward God was in Paul. You will certainly say that he loved God with all his heart, and with all his soul, and with all his mind. For the Law gives this as the highest limit of love toward God. Therefore, he who has consecrated his whole heart, and soul, and mind to God, and has no inclination toward anything else of those things which are sought after in this life, stands at the highest degree of love. If, therefore, anyone can demonstrate that our preceptor was in his life inclined or propense toward any of the things which are sought after in this world—such as wealth, or power, or the desire for empty glory (for it is not even appropriate to mention the more servile pleasures in relation to him)—if he is found to have pursued any of these things, it is fitting ^D to say that the measure of his love toward God was diminished, because his affect of desire had been diverted from God toward material things. But if he was an enemy and an adversary to all these and such things, first of all banishing from his own life every impassioned disposition regarding them, and then also the common

^A life, both by the discourse of doctrine and by his own example, then it would be clear that he possessed within himself that measure of love toward God which nature could not exceed. For he who loves God with his whole heart, soul, and mind, how could he strive and strain toward a greater measure of love, which has no place? Therefore, if we have learned that there is one standard of perfect love—that which is dedicated to God with the whole heart—and if Paul and Basil loved, being dedicated to God with their whole heart, then anyone who dared to say that there was one measure and standard of love in both would not be deviating from the truth. But indeed, that love is greater than all blessings is asserted by the Apostle, and the sublime Gospel confirms and ratifies it. For the Apostle, while calling it more excellent than prophecy and knowledge, and more steadfast than faith, and more enduring than hope, and always remaining the same—without which everything pursued as a blessing is useless *—the Lord, meanwhile, by saying that every law and all the prophetic mysteries depend upon this gift, also posits that love holds the primacy among all blessings 7. If, therefore, he is not inferior to the great Paul in that which stands out and excels among outstanding and excellent things, and has the power to comprehend the rest, certainly he will not appear to be of lesser standing or inferior ^B in all other blessings, of which love holds the primacy, and which all depend upon and exist from it. For just as one who shares in human nature possesses all the characteristics of human nature, so too one who has perfected and attained perfect love within himself possesses all the forms of blessings which are contemplated along with it, along with that primary and chief blessing. For whether it is faith that saves, or whether we are saved by hope, or whether we await grace through patience, "love believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things," as the Apostle says. And all other things—that we may not waste time by speaking of each one individually—become shoots from the root of love, all that is pursued by the discourse of virtue; so that he who possesses this lacks none of the others. ^C This, then, the great Basil having, he was by it devoid of no blessing. And if he had all things, he was in no way inferior. But someone will surely say that that other man saw the third heaven, and was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words, which it is not permitted for a man to speak. But not even he, it is clear, received such grace through this flesh; for he does not hide the ambiguity when he says: "Whether in the body, I do not know; or whether out of the body, I do not know; God knows." And regarding this, one might boldly say that he saw nothing of the sort in the body, but in incorporeal and intelligible contemplation, there is not anything ^D

^A left unseen. The witness to these things is his own discourse, both that which he spoke in person and that which he left behind in writings. He went around in a circle from Jerusalem to Illyricum, and to all those dwelling in between he preached the Gospel word; and his word and his preaching encompassed almost the entire inhabited world, even being eagerly sought and approved by all, just as the words of Paul were. Let the remaining matters by which his life is compared to that one be passed over—for instance, he was crucified to the world, and the world to him. He mortified the body, and this one also perfected his power through infirmity. Christ was the life for both, and for each alike death was gain, and the resolution of the false life in preference to being with the Lord.

Or does it seem fit to compare John with the teacher? But for someone to bring forth another by way of comparison to such a life when the divine voice testifies that he—being among those born of women—holds the primacy and has something more excellent than a prophet, would be ^B both madness and impiety. Yet, to have followed even behind such a great and illustrious man contains a proof of supreme blessedness. Let us consider the matter in this way: "John was neither in soft garments, nor was he a reed shaken by the wind." He preferred the desert before the inhabited places, and yet he frequented the inhabited places. Might someone then fault the argument if the truth testifies to this regarding our teacher as well, that in these things he does not fall short of the great John? For who does not know how he judged a soft and delicate manner of life to be harmful and detrimental? In every matter, he pursued fortitude and the endurance of toils and hardships rather than pleasant things, toughened by the heat of the sun, exposing himself to the cold, subduing the body by means of fasts and temperance, dwelling in cities as if in deserts (being in no way harmed in his virtue by the social intercourse), and making deserts into cities. For neither did his life among the many turn him aside from a rigorous and secure conduct, nor, if he withdrew to the solitude, was he able to be stripped and deserted by those who, for the sake of utility, made use of his habit and presence; so that even in his time, just as in the life of the Baptist, the desert became a city, hemmed in by those flowing into it. ^C That he was not a "reed," easily swayed toward contrary opinions, is shown by the constancy and firmness he had in all things which he had judged and undertaken throughout his life. From the beginning, it had pleased him to possess nothing, and his judgment to be poor was like a rock, unmoved and unshaken. Because of purity, he desired to draw near to God; this desire was a mountain, not a reed. For he never bent ^D under the opposing blasts of temptations. And it was possible for the Apostle, through his own words, to demonstrate the steadfastness of love toward God, in that neither life, nor death, nor present things, nor future things, nor any other creature could push his heart away from the love of God. So also in all things which he judged for himself according to virtue, he was in no way "reed-like" or faint-hearted in his intellect, but throughout everything his life possessed an immutability in those things that are good. Boldly...

and freely John speaks before Herod; so too does this man before Valens. Let us compare the dignities of these two men. The former had obtained for himself ^B the governance of a certain part of Palestine by the decree of the Romans, but the boundary of this man's empire was practically the entire path of the sun, extending from the borders of Persia to the Britons and the furthest shore of the Ocean. And the goal of the freedom of speech toward Herod was that he should not transgress the law against a certain woman, but rather that he should restrain his desire, as it was forbidden by the law. But what was the freedom of speech of our teacher toward Valens? That he should allow the faith to remain unharmed, intact, and undefiled, for if injury were done to it, it would become the wickedness and sin of the entire world. Let the just appraiser of facts, then, compare the authority with the authority, and the goal of this freedom of speech with that freedom of speech. For there, the wickedness was circumscribed within the body of Herod; here, however, the violation of the faith redounded to the injury of all human nature. He persisted in freedom of speech even unto death; and for this man, the end of his freedom of speech was exile, since the emperor had decreed this penalty for him in place of a death sentence. But John was believed to live even after death; and for Basil, the sentence of exile was rescinded by his very enemies, as he had not become any the more lax or sluggish in resisting because of their threats.

Shall we also dare to ascend in our discourse to the exalted Elijah, and show that our teacher was assimilated to the grace given to him in the conduct of his life? But indeed, let no one demand from human nature the riding upon the chariot of fire, or the driving of the fiery horses, or the migration to the state that is above and on high. For not even he, while remaining within the bounds of nature, was preserved unharmed in the fire, as he transformed his heavy and earthly body through divine power into that lightness which is borne aloft, nor because he used his own word as a kind of key to that power which was supplied from heaven, opening when he wished and again locking by his own authority when he deemed it better to do so. Furthermore, the fact that he endured fasting for a long time, preserving his strength in the same condition for up to forty days on only the food of that hidden unleavened bread—let this also be passed over, as being greater than human nature can grasp. For ^D the imitation of things that are above nature is impossible for human nature. Let also the small earthen jar of flour and the flask of oil be passed over in silence alongside these; each lasted for the need in the supply of food, and extended the grace throughout the entire time of the famine, to three years and six months. For the miracles of the power from above have a distinct strength in their works. And no one could reasonably ascribe such miraculous deeds to human nature.

^A What assets, then, of our teacher possess communion and fellowship with the things seen in the prophet? A zeal for the faith, antagonism against those who reject it, love for God, a desire for the truly Existent that flows toward no material thing, a life refined in all respects, a disciplined life, a gaze commensurate with the intensity of the soul, an unstudied gravity; a silence more effective than speech, concern for things hoped for, contempt for the things that are seen, an equal regard for every person who appeared, whether one happened to be of high standing, or appeared to be among the lowly and rejected. These and such like are the things in which the teacher's life imitates the miracles of Elijah.

If anyone brings forward the forty-day fast, we too shall set forth the teacher's moderation in food throughout his whole life. For a small intake of food is somehow near to fasting, especially when the one occurs in a short time, while the other lasts through the whole of life. ^B Moreover, in that other case, that prophet obtained the strength of his bread baked in the ashes, having entirely some quality in itself by which the strength of the one who partook of that food was preserved. A proof of this is that it was not one of those of the same race as he who baked the food and set it before him, but he was sated by food prepared by angels. Whence the strength generated in the body by that food remained full and unfailing. Here, however, with nothing of customary practice being innovated, the rule for food was reason, providing the body not as much as nature wanted, but as much as the law of temperance commanded. ^C The priesthood of our teacher imitates the mysteries of the prophet's priesthood, by the fact that he hands down the three persons in the doctrine of the faith, drawing down the heavenly fire for the sacrifices. We have learned in many places in Scripture that the power of the Holy Spirit is called fire.

The teacher neither dissolved nor brought upon us the drought of the land. In that case, the great prophet, having struck the earth with the scourge of drought, himself also becomes the physician of the wound, granting them a relief and mitigation of the cure equal to the pain of the scourge. But if one must also speak of a miracle of our own Elijah comparable to this: when by divine will such a calamity was once threatened, and the whole winter season had passed in drought, and no hope of crops appeared, then the teacher, falling before God, stayed the fear of the threat, having appeased the Divine with prayers, and having dissolved through his intercessions the gloom of the drought.

But our life today also has a likeness to the consolation of the famine which the great Elijah showed in the case of a certain widow. For when a severe famine was at one time afflicting both the city in which he happened to be dwelling, and all the country subject to that city, he sold his own possessions, and

having exchanged his property for food when it was scarce, he sustained those who were flocking from all sides, and the youth of the entire urban populace, during the whole time of the famine, and indeed he made even the children of the Jews equally partakers of this philanthropy. But it matters nothing at all whether one fulfills the divine command by means of an oil-cruse, or by some other material and occasion. For the comforting of the needy does not seek the source, but looks to what is being done.

^B If Elijah was caught up aloft, this is indeed a marvelous and extraordinary miracle, yet the other kind of upward flight is not to be rejected or despised—when someone, having used the virtues as a chariot through the Spirit, migrates from earth to heaven through a sublime manner of life. That the master attained this, anyone who is a fair judge of the deeds performed by him will not deny.

Must we then dare an oratorical comparison with Samuel? While we concede the primary roles to the prophet in all other respects, we shall show that regarding two things said of him, those concerning our master are also fitting. The birth of both was divinely granted and bestowed. For as the mother sought that one from God, so the father begat this one from divine request. And when he was once seized by a lethal disease while yet in the youth of his age, his father saw in a dream-vision the Lord appearing to him—the same who in the Gospel gave the son to the nobleman—saying to him the things the Lord had said to that man: "Go, thy son liveth." ^C Imitating his faith, he received the same fruit of faith as he did, having secured the salvation of his son through the Lord’s philanthropy.

And this, indeed, is one thing we compare with the miracles of Samuel. The second is that the form of the offering was zealously performed in the same manner by both. Both offered peaceful sacrifices to God, performing the sacred act for the defeat of enemies—the one doing this for the subversion of heresies, the other against the aliens.

Furthermore, the great Moses is set forth as a common example for all who look toward virtue; and no one would act wrongly if he proposed the virtue of the Lawgiver as the goal of his own life, by which he might direct his actions. Therefore, no one will be at all resentful if it is shown that our master, in whatever he was able, imitated the Lawgiver in his life. ^D In what things, then, did the imitation consist? A certain woman, ruling the Egyptians, having adopted Moses, teaches him the native instruction, though he did not depart from his mother’s breast until

it was time for his early age to be nourished with such food. Truth itself bears witness to this regarding our teacher. ^A For while he was being reared by external learning, he always clung to the breast of the Church, growing and maturing in his soul through its doctrines. Afterwards, Moses renounced his falsely named mother’s sophistic relationship. Nor did our teacher remain long in that state, to be celebrated and famous for a pursuit of which he was ashamed. For having shaken off all the glory acquired from worldly letters and disciplines, just as that man did his kingdom, he defected to a humble way of life, just as Moses also valued the Hebrews more than the treasures of the Egyptians. Now, since nature performs its own work in every person (for in each one the flesh lusts against ^B the spirit), neither was he exempt from that struggle of the Egyptian reasoning, which it waged against the one who was pure. But, bringing aid to the better part, he would mortify that which wrongly rose up against the Hebrew. The Hebrew reasoning, however, is that which has been cleansed and is undefiled. For he who, by mortifying the members that are upon the earth, brings aid to the soul, imitates the prowess of Moses which he exercised against the Egyptian. It is appropriate to pass over much of the history, lest, if one wished to set forth everything with precision—as much as the account contains about Moses, and in which instances our teacher bore a likeness to the lawgiver—one might bring great weariness upon the listeners. ^C Moses left Egypt after the slaughter of the Egyptian, and spent much time in the intervening period living by himself in seclusion. He too left behind the tumults of the city and these material clamors surrounding him on all sides, and was in solitude, philosophizing with God. That man was illuminated by the light through the bush. We have something akin to that vision to tell of this man as well: for, while it was night, there came to him an illumination and a radiance of light as he was praying in the house; that light was immaterial, illuminating the dwelling by divine power, and was not kindled by any material thing. Moses saves the people, having delivered them from the tyrant. This people, whom he led ^D by his priesthood to the promise of God, bears witness to the acts of our own lawgiver. And why is it necessary to speak of each detail: how many this man also led through the water; to how many by his discourse he provided the pillar of fire; how many he saved with the cloud of the Spirit; how many he nourished with the heavenly food; how he imitated the rock in which, long ago, by means of wood, the mouth and vein of water was opened—that is, the mouth which the figure of the cross once touched; how he gave drink to the thirsty with that water, by the magnitude of its abundance imitating the abysses; and what kind of tabernacle of witness he constructed, indeed corporally in the suburb, having caused those who were poor in body to be poor in spirit through good instruction, so that their destitution became memorable for the beatitude, as it was reconciling the gift and grace of the true kingdom? But the true tabernacle, in which

^A God might dwell, he fashioned within each person’s soul by the Word, also constructing certain columns—by columns I mean those thoughts and reasonings which support and sustain virtue when it is oppressed by labors—and likewise basins for washing away the pollutions and defilements of the soul, scrubbing away the stain and the spots ^B with the water flowing from the eyes. How many lamps he placed in each soul, illuminating the hidden things with the Word! What kind of incense burners and altars for prayers he fabricated from pure and guileless gold—that is, from a true and pure disposition—where the heavy lead of vainglory did not at all obscure the splendor of what was being done! What need is there to commemorate the mystic ark, such as he fashioned for each one, placing within the soul the tablets of the covenant written by the divine finger? I say these things looking to the fact that he made each person’s heart an ark, capable of containing spiritual mysteries, having the law written and inscribed through works by the operation of the Spirit (for thus the finger of God is interpreted); in which the rod of the priesthood always blossomed its own fruit, sprouting and budding through participation in the holy things, and the urn never became empty of manna. For then the soul’s vessel becomes empty of the heavenly food, when sin, slipping in, prevents the inflow of the manna. Manna, however, is the heavenly bread. What need is there to speak of how he wrapped himself with the priestly stole with such precision, and adorned others by his own example, always carrying that ornament on his breast whose name is Oracle, and Decree, and Truth? I leave all these things ^C for the more diligent and industrious to apply to the teacher through their figurative and allegorical meaning, through which he was such a person himself, and shared that adornment with others. We have often noticed him even when he was in the darkness where God was. For that which was invisible to others, the teaching of the Spirit in which he had been trained in the sacred things made comprehensible to him, so that he seemed to be within the embrace of the darkness in which the discourse about God is hidden. He often stood against Amalekites, using prayer as his shield. As he lifted up his hands, the true Jesus defeated the enemies. He shattered the impostures of many sorcerers and of those like the Balaam of old—those who, not listening to the true Word but yielding to the asinine teaching of demons, had their mouths made powerless for evil when the teacher’s prayer changed the curse into a blessing. But these things are said by us in passing and briefly; whoever is not ignorant of the Saint’s life will apply the details to the truth of the events, ^D and how many who had devised plots against some through sorcery and incantation found their wickedness to be ineffective, not being permitted by the faith of the teacher to bring their evil to completion. But leaving aside all that was done in the meantime, I will recall the end of both. Indeed, each of them left this life; but a memorial of his own relationship regarding the flesh, not

^A one or the other left to his age. For neither does the tomb of Moses exist, nor was this man buried with any material abundance; but he departed from this life, and all things through which the life of men has its substance passed away with him, so that no material monument of the man is to be found, heaped up from an abundance of leftover possessions, which might cause his estimation to be seen in a more magnificent light. Just as the history regarding Moses says this, that his tomb has not been found even unto this day. If therefore such a man as this has been shown to us by our discourse to be Basil the Great, so that he is not far removed from the saints when his life is compared to each of those great figures, it is right for us to hold this present festive assembly because of him, in the rotation of the holy days. Furthermore, it would be fitting to bring forward his memory through those things which were pleasing to him. Thus, we must consider how we may conduct the festival, so as to celebrate the holy man in a way pleasing to him. Will anyone require the demonstrative or pompous manner of panegyrics in his case? His fatherland and lineage, and his upbringing from his parents, and the particular habits of his life, with which he grew and flourished, and through which he became famous and conspicuous among men? But the greatness of the virtues seen in him rejects and turns away from all this pompous, elevated manner of speech, because the endeavor results in the opposite, seeing that there is no power in words that can measure up to the magnitude of his miracles. In order, therefore, that the miracle not be diminished by the meagerness of our speech, and that there occur no lessening of the opinion everyone now holds regarding him on account of those who attempt to praise him, it would be better to increase the miracle ^B within ourselves through silence, rather than to diminish and extenuate his praise by means of speech. For what manner of speech would make him more venerable? Would he accept that nobility which is said to be through flesh and blood? And who does not know that great man’s disposition regarding the flesh, and how he stood against it as an adversary, always casting upon it the bonds of reason, like some runaway slave, and through extreme hardship and continence, scourging and torturing that slave, his body, like some inexorable master, granting no relief to the prisoner? Therefore, to honor him, who was so disposed toward the flesh, by means of praise for bodily benefits would be the most absurd thing. For how would he be honored now by that which he was ashamed of during his life? And in like manner, along with the question of lineage, the mention of his fatherland is cast out and rejected. For he, who had placed himself above the whole world, and was as it were cramped within the entire sensible nature of the elements, so that he could not even bear to have the heavens placed above him, but his soul longed to be directed toward that which lies beyond, and, peering above the sensible ^C realm of the world, he was always traversing the intelligible, and taking flight together with the divine powers, being hindered by no bodily impediment in the journey of his intellect—at what point would he accept ^D that he should be placed in some portion of the earth themselves

^A and collect praises for himself through the advantages of a location? For it would be an insult and a diminution of true praises if, when virtue is proposed for contemplation, water, leaves, soil, and such things were to be admired. Moreover, anything that is not a product of choice, even if it is in the highest degree beautiful, brings no reputation or commendation to the person to whom it happens by the same token. Therefore, let country and lineage be passed over in silence, and everything of that sort which befalls anyone by fortuitous intersection and chance. But one might rightly make mention of a country and nobility in his case, which happens to those who desire it by the decision of free will.

What, then, is Basil’s nobility and clarity of lineage? What is his country? His lineage is his familiarity and intimacy with God; his country is virtue. For he who has received God, as the Gospel ^B says, has the power to become a child of God. But what more noble and generous kinship with God could one seek? And he who is endowed with virtue, and cultivates it, and draws his revenue from it, and finds his gain in it, makes that in which he lives his country in every sense. Temperance was his dwelling, wisdom his estate; justice, truth, and purity were the bright and conspicuous beauties of the structures in which he lived, taking more delight in them than those who boast of houses made of marble and gold. If anyone were to praise him on account of such a country, and glorify him on account of such a lineage, he would be speaking the truth and would be adapting such praises as are pleasing to him. But let those who wish to be friends of the world bear witness to and proclaim the earth, and blood, and flesh, and wealth, and commands, and the splendor and glory joined to these things. If, ^C therefore, our speech cannot capture the celebrations of praise befitting him, ought such pursuits to be refused and the arts of laudation rejected? How, then, shall we commemorate him, someone might perhaps say, if this is not done by celebrations of praise? How shall the law of Scripture be fulfilled, which says that the memory of the just must be celebrated with praises, if the discourse cannot be adapted through true praises, while common praises cannot be mentioned without insult? But perhaps there will not be lacking some method by which he is not left entirely devoid of the honor and reward of our praises. What, then, is this method? Who does not know that every speech, when divorced from works, is vain in itself and unsubstantial? But the nature of works demonstrates and represents ^D what is said in substance and truth. Therefore, preference should be given to that praise which is performed and represented through works over mere speech. And what is this? That by the remembrance of him, our life should become, through the

^A perfection of his virtue, superior. For just as with the bezel of a ring, when some most beautiful form appears in the engraving, the wax receiving the impression of the seal transfers into itself the beauty contained in the engraving, having entirely taken up the character of the seal with its own impressions—and no one could by speech so clearly describe the well-disposed grace of the engraving as by showing the beauty formed upon the wax—in the same way, if one person praises the virtue of the teacher with mere words, while another adorns his own life, the praise that is fulfilled through life will be more effective than the lofty speech. Thus, therefore, brothers, let us, by imitating the sober man with our own sobriety, praise virtue according to its worth by our deeds, and likewise let the miracle of the wise man be fulfilled in all other things through participation in wisdom. As for the praise of poverty, let it be fulfilled by our also becoming destitute of material possessions. Let the contempt of this world not merely be called something commendable and glorious, but let life itself be a witness to the contempt of those things which are sought after in the world. Do not say only that he was dedicated and devoted to God, but offer yourself also to God; and do not think that the only possession he had was the hope of rest, but do you also treasure up for yourself this wealth just as he did. For it is permitted; he transferred his way of life from earth to heaven, so transfer yours also. He deposited his own wealth in the inviolable treasuries of heaven; by these actions, you too imitate the teacher. For a disciple will be perfect if he is like his master. ^B For in other pursuits of life as well, he who has become a student of medicine, or geometry, or rhetoric, will be an unworthy praiser of his master’s art if he admires the teacher’s skill with words but displays in himself nothing worthy of admiration. For someone will say to him: "How do you call your teacher a physician when you yourself are unhealed? Or how do you say you are a student of geometry while possessing no knowledge of geometry?" But if someone shows in himself the art which he has learned, he honors by his own knowledge the one who taught him the art. Thus let us, too, who boast of Basil as our teacher, demonstrate our discipleship by our life, becoming that which made him renowned and great before God and men, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory and power, for ever and ever. Amen. ^D

OF THE SAME: ENCOMIUM ON OUR HOLY FATHER EPHRAEM

LIFE AND ENCOMIUM OF OUR HOLY FATHER EPHRAEM THE SYRIAN

A hidden meaning in the divine Gospels seriously urges me toward the subject of my discourse; it loosens my tongue, which had been constrained by the bridle of silence; it levels and adorns the paths of my thoughts as if they were vast fields; it renders the chariot of my speech prompt and swift for the journey it must undertake, while it cries out ^A clearly in these words: *Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick, that it may give light unto all that are in the house.* And he adds what is to be understood from this in its depth, saying: *Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works.* Shall we then be justly blamable if, negligent and slothful, we shroud in silence that which the Lord himself has commanded us to celebrate with great courage? For when He has kindled the life of this holy Father as a torch, illustrious and more radiant than the sun, and set it before the world, and has proposed it to us to be expounded, He does not permit us, by passing over it in silence, to hide it under a bushel; but rather to place it upon the lofty height of the Church, so that it may shine for all who dwell in this house of the whole world, and that those who receive light from it may glorify and praise the heavenly Father.

^B Therefore, the paternal constraint of that man is not to be feared in such a way that the commandment of the Lord Himself is despised; indeed, the beginning of this eulogy should have been taken precisely from there, even if we have relegated that matter to the final part of our speech. For to one who rightly examines the thing itself, that does not seem to be a constraint at all, which forbids the adorning with praises one who turns away from human glory; or indeed, it is a constraint easy to resolve, an obligation of such a kind that it rather urges those who love him to fulfill the very task itself. For through the very things by which he imagined he would avoid our praises, having blocked the attempt with a constraint, through these ^C very things we...

take the occasions for our encomia. For while each of his excellences provides a rich subject for perfect praise, that which shines forth most of all is his lack of pleasure in being praised. He wanted, in fact, not to seem good, but rather to be so. For that reason alone, even if he had performed nothing else worthy of praise, he would certainly deserve to be praised, because he said he took such pleasure in encomia that he sealed off all criticism arising from them with a tie. This ^A opens the first stadium of our discourse and informs us not to walk aimlessly, nor to be carried toward a precipice, but to travel the royal road, well considering that, had the wonderful man of God not perceived himself to be worthy of praise, he would not have kept those who wished to praise him from doing so. For no one who is not already an object of wonder, while still alive, for the greatest of excellences, would mandate to those who come after that his own memory be allowed to perish in the slip of forgetfulness.

To this, indeed, one must also add the following: just as Paul, the orator of grace, the brideman of the Church, the mouth of Christ, did not lose the title of Apostle because he said, "I am not worthy to be called an Apostle"—nay, rather, by that very act of humility he gained even greater glory—so also this great Father of ours, having judged himself unworthy of praise out of piety, will be found worthy through the consequence of his deeds.

^B Since, therefore, it is the custom and ordinance of our Church to crown those who vie for virtue because they have embraced its parts; and most especially those who, on account of their humble estimation of themselves, have become spiritually exalted, according to that which is said in the Gospels by the Lord: "He who humbles himself shall be exalted"; those who describe the virtues of this present God-bearing Father, and who raise up his life for us like a living and breathing column, are in no wise to be censured, derided, or reproved. The wise listener will perceive the truth of what we have mentioned if, once the discourse is finished, he gathers together the various kinds of his virtues, from which we, having fashioned a crown as it were of gold-inlaid, precious, and diverse stones, offer a desired gift to the bride of Christ, the Church; for she delights in being honored by such gifts whenever the annual memory of the righteous arrives. And how could she not joyfully receive his monument, now that the course of time has brought us to the feast of Ephraim?

^C I must celebrate that Ephraim who is on the lips of all Christians. I speak of Ephraim the Syrian; for I am not ashamed of the race whose character is my ornament. Ephraim, whose splendor of life and contemplation has shone forth over the whole earth; who is known in almost every place illuminated by the sun, and remains unknown only to those— ^D

who are ignorant of the great light of the Church, S. Basil; Ephraem, that truly known Euphrates of the Church, by whose waters the multitude of Christians is irrigated, bringing forth a hundredfold fruit of faith. Ephraem, that fertile vine of God, which, producing fruits of doctrine like sweet clusters of grapes, nourishes, fills, refreshes, and delights the children of the Church with divine charity. Ephraem, the good and faithful steward of the Church, who, distributing the resources of the virtues equally among his fellow servants, most prudently administers the household of God. ^A Regarding his lineage and nobility—both that which was acquired by himself and that received from his forebears—the glory of his parents, his birth, upbringing, growth in age, physical state, status, his arts, and other such matters as are wont to be recited by secular writers as being of the greatest moment in praise, we consider it superfluous to bring them forward here, since it is not ordained that holy men should be praised by such things. And although, in order to praise him, arguments abound even from such sources, let us not weave the crown of our oration by any other ways and means than those by which he rendered himself illustrious in life and doctrine. For true praises consist in those things which are placed within ourselves; and to those things are due the rewards which proceed from our own will; and vituperations are false, and praises are inept.

^B Furthermore, of those things which we have commemorated, in what way will he wish to be praised from his lineage, he who despised all the nobility and pomp of the world, and desired to become a son of God through the best of works? Or how can he allow himself to be celebrated for his country, he who considered the whole world as belonging to himself, and who turned away from material creation as an enemy, because of the immortal beatitude stored up in the heavens? Or how can he be delighted by the celebrity of his ancestors or parents, he who trampled underfoot the physical condition and the very animal tunic of the flesh itself, as something that impedes the swiftest courses toward virtue, and utterly discarded it? Or finally, in what way would he allow himself to be adorned by the growth of his body, or his education, or by his arts, or other such despised studies of life, he who from childhood was educated and grew in the meditation of the sacred Scriptures, drinking from the perennial fountains of grace, and strove to arrive at the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, as I may speak with the Apostle? ^C Since, therefore, we know that this great Father of ours does not wish to be overcome with those ridiculous praises by which men dedicated to sense and the body are captivated, we shall endeavor to celebrate him at least moderately through his own labors; for speech does not have the nature to be stretched beyond its strength. Wherefore we shall strive that, neither hindered by puerility, we might shroud in silence the things that ought to be said about him; nor, walking along some path alien to the institutes of the Fathers, do we deflect from the royal way: but running between both, we shall apply the temperament convenient to our oration.

^D What, however, are those things which we have proposed and subjected to ourselves for the weaving of his eulogy? Action, indeed, and contemplation, which the swarm of virtues follows in order: faith, hope, charity,

^A piety towards God, meditation on the divine Scriptures, purity of soul and body, constant tears, a solitary life, withdrawal from place to place, flight from harmful things, perpetual instruction, unceasing prayer, fasting and vigils that have no measure, sleeping on the ground and asceticism exceeding description, poverty and humility brought to the highest degree, mercy exceeding [that of] the human condition, divine zeal against those who rage against piety; and, simply to speak, everything that he knows characterizes a man according to God. Our Father is adorned with such praises, and he recognizes what is said, and knows his own merits, and cherishes the words, as providers of benefit, not to himself, but to us; since even the mere mention of his name becomes a premise of virtue for the diligent. For we have not learned these things from elsewhere, other than from those things which he himself sowed in his writings concerning himself. From which we, like the praiseworthy bee, having gathered the useful things from many flowers, have fashioned this spiritual honeycomb. And he will not be at all angry with us for this attempt, because he no longer fears the evil demon, since [having] already reached the calm harbors of the incorporeal [spirits] after also ^B having caused many to stumble at the end of his struggles, he is outside both storm and surge. Come then, therefore, having dwelt a little in the discourse on each of those things enumerated, let us show to those who have gathered [here] what kind of person this wonderful man became, and to what measure of spiritual ascent he attained. For, regarding the faith, he held it very correctly, leaning nowhere far from piety; just as we have learned both from his own writings and from the opinion held about him by the Church; for he equally abhorred the irrational confusion of Sabellius and the maddening division of Arius. He stood within the borders of piety, dividing by number, but connecting in substance, the one and unconfused and all-holy Trinity; so that he might neither reproach the poverty of the Godhead in the Jewish manner, nor rave about a multitude of Gods in the Hellenic manner; which things those who have behaved wantonly concerning the incomprehensible ^C Trinity are proven to have suffered. And he so much rejected the irrational dogma of Apollinarius, that he put forth every effort to root it out from every Christian soul. Furthermore, through many demonstrative and Scriptural arguments, he stopped the unbridled utterances of the Anomoeans, leaving behind for us, as the greatest security, his own divinely-taught words. But if anyone should wish to witness the defeat of the most audacious Novatus, let him look at the downfall of the opponent in the struggle through the words of Ephraim, in which he will find the superiority of the power of our Teacher in the presentation of the argument to be as great as [between] a pancratiast and a child who is not strong because of tenderness. And he did not only refute the heretical weeds that were stirred up by the sower of wickedness at that time or before, with the orthodox word of faith; but also those which, in the future

^A might have flourished malignantly, he foresaw with prophetic eyes and reaped them beforehand. And his every writing and poem is full of these proofs. Thus, the son of truth never turned away from the truth itself; his hope, however, was fixed solely in God, in whom those who place their hopes receive their rewards. For this reason, he was accustomed to use the Psalm in all his deeds and ^B words: *In him my heart has hoped, and I have been helped.* For *mercy shall encompass him who hopes in the Lord.* And such confidence in the Lord renders one like Mount Zion; and it establishes him who possesses it within the height of beatitude, as it is possible to learn from the prophets themselves, David saying: *Blessed is the man whose hope is the name of the Lord.* And Jeremiah: *Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and the Lord shall be his hope; and he shall be like a tree flourishing by the waters, and it shall cast its roots toward moisture, and he shall not fear when heat comes.* And Isaiah: *The Lord is our King, the Lord is our Savior, he himself shall save us. Behold, God is my Savior, the Lord, I will trust in him and I shall not fear.* And the blessed Paul also admonishes us, saying: *Let us hold fast the confession of our hope; for he is faithful who has promised.*

Nourished by this divine and stored-up hope, Saint Ephrem despised all things human and transitory, and assiduously longed for the eternal glory. And he observed love for God and his neighbor so diligently that, when departing from this world, he recounted these things ^C as his last words; for it is right to bring into the midst the very words of that holy Father, as being clearer than any demonstration. In no way, he says, in all my life have I been contumelious against the Lord, nor has a foolish word gone out from my lips. In all my life I have cursed no one, nor have I shown myself contentious with any Christian person at all. O happy tongue, which confidently uttered such a voice, which is most appropriate only to angels, because of a life removed from all matter and change! But to us who serve the flesh, it is strange and beyond our nature, and difficult to achieve.

And though you may investigate the labors and lives of many who have been renowned for virtues, you will hardly find anywhere any indication of pure and sincere charity ^D like that which is in the Father currently before us. If, therefore, charity excels above all virtues, and the blessed Ephrem cultivated this as no other of the Fathers has done—for *each shall receive according to his deeds*—we shall leave it to others to conclude this, so that we may not seem to be comparing Fathers with Fathers. For we have not introduced what has been said for the sake of comparison, but only so that it may be clearly evident to the people that this man of ours, or rather the teacher of the entire Church, Saint Ephrem, has reached the highest rung on the spiritual ladder of virtues.

^A He acquired piety in the possession of true wisdom, according to that word in Job: "Behold, piety is wisdom." Through this, just as we explained a little earlier when describing the purity of his faith, he ascended to the third heaven, like Paul, and gained for himself immortal memory and lasting glory in the Church. His meditation on the holy Scriptures was kindled by the Davidic lamp, as he said: "In my meditation, a fire shall be kindled." For love, inflaming him with the fire of heavenly contemplation, aroused in him a sublime ardor for divine things. For having thoroughly studied every Scripture, both Old and New—and having devoted himself to such speculations as no one else had—he accurately interpreted the whole, word for word; from the creation of the world down to the final book of grace, he brought the depths of hidden mysteries into the light, using the Spirit as his lamp. ^B Indeed, he not only drew from the whole spiritual chalice of this divine wisdom of ours and shared it with others, but he also exercised himself in secular learning, in everything that concerns the proper and refined use of language and the depth of concepts, having practiced this very diligently, taking what was useful and casting aside what was useless, weighing both action and contemplation in the scales of justice. He attained a purity of soul and body such as nature allowed—or rather, that which is above nature, for it is a gift of grace. For he did not allow his soul to waver from the habit of right reason; rather, he truly reigned over his soul, while his body shone with radiant splendor. ^C And the conversion of the harlot of whom history speaks bears witness to what has been said; she whom the murderer Belial used as a snare of wickedness to deceive the enlightened man was so far from what was hoped, that she herself was brought to battle against the tempter himself. Through exhortations, admonitions, and what might be called the incantations of divine words, she was changed and reshaped for the better, so that she was shown to be chaste instead of profligate, dignified instead of shameful, and pure instead of defiled. ^D As for me, desiring to speak of the ever-flowing river of his tears, I am myself seized by tears; for one could hardly sail across the sea of his tears without tears of one’s own. For just as breathing is natural to all men and is perpetually active, so too was the weeping of Ephrem. For there was no day, no night, no midnight, no hour, no slightest moment, when his sleepless eyes were seen to be dry; he would lament at one time the common failings and at another his own, as he called them, offenses; and he would wisely channel the rivers of his eyes with sighs, or rather, he would summon forth his sighs with the streams of his eyes. And the progression of both was paradoxical, for one was the cause of the other being manifest; for tears would beget in him...

^A sighs, and again sighs would beget tears; and as the cause of this remained unknown to many, for it was a cycle—since time did not put an end to them, but sighs would constantly be followed by tears, and then tears again by sighs—the origin and cause of each was obscure. And anyone who has engaged with his writings will perceive this. For one will find him mourning not only in those discourses which treat of repentance, character, and righteous living, but even in his panegyrical orations themselves, where most men are accustomed to show great exhilaration. He, however, was the same in all places, and he was ever wealthy in the gift of contrition. Whence, even now, he summons almost all who hear his words to the true life. Such strength does his divinely inspired discourse possess, mingled with tears! For who is so unyielding, or so stony of heart, that upon hearing his words he is not softened, and, casting off the harshness of his character, does not grieve sincerely for his own sins? Who is so wild and savage in disposition that, having turned his ears to his soul-profiting instruction, he does not immediately become good and gentle, and a lover of virtue in his behavior? Who is so accustomed to rejoicing in the pleasures of life, and so averse to weeping, that upon hearing a few of his words he will not lament and weep, and come to the remembrance of that recompense which we are to receive for our past life?

"You are trying to boil a stone," the proverb says, applying it to impossibilities. But we have learned by experience that this can be done. For this holy elder plainly softened and broke the souls which, because of their wicked and stubborn hardness, one might call stones, and bent them as he willed. For who, reading his discourse on humility, does not immediately cast aside all self-opinion and foolish arrogance, and confess himself the most abject of all? Who, reading what he wrote on charity, is not so kindled that he is ready to undergo any danger for the sake of charity? Who, unfolding those pages in which he praises virginity, does not strive to present himself chaste to God in body and soul? Who, hearing or reading his discourses in which ^D he describes the final judgment, or that second coming of Christ, is not so afflicted in heart and mind as if he were already to be brought before that judgment-seat? And does not suddenly tremble with fear, as if the sentence of the Judge were being passed against him personally? For the illustrious and most prophetic man so set forth this future judgment of God of all, that nothing further seems to be lacking for the knowledge of it, except only that the thing itself should actually come to pass and happen before our eyes.

Since, therefore, the blessed man was always occupied with such thoughts concerning the judgment, he fled the world and all that is in it. He withdrew far away, fleeing, as it is written, and remained in solitude, giving himself to God and to his own soul alone, and from there reaping the rewards of virtue. For he already knew aright that those who embrace the solitary life are liberated from the turbulent commotions and storms of this age, and by silence become companions of the angels, and by...

their minds are ^A raised, as far as is possible, to the contemplation of God. And when the Spirit, moving him for the edification of many, arranged for him to change his abode, he did not resist, nor did he oppose, but yielded humbly. For he was obedient to the divine commands and directives, if ever any man was. Hence, having been ordered, like that holy Abraham of old, to leave his own country, he betook himself to the city of the Edessenes; for it was not right that the sun should long remain hidden beneath the earth. He journeyed thither for two reasons: that he might embrace the holy places there, and, before this, that he might meet with some wise man, and either gather for himself the fruit of knowledge or impart it to others.

Upon arriving at this city, as the story is told, and as he was entering the gate, he met—instead of the learned man he had hoped to find—a harlot. Encountering such a spectacle to his great distress, and finding himself deceived in his expectation, he turned his eyes away. But the wayward woman, fixing her gaze upon him, looked him over attentively. The wise man said to her, "Tell me, woman, why do you stare so fixedly at me?" She promptly replied, "Because I am of you, man; for you, you do not even look at me, but turn your eyes toward the earth from which you were taken." ^B Hearing this answer, so contrary to his expectation, the wise man confessed that he had derived great profit from it; and he glorified the infinite power of God, who sometimes grants us, beyond our hope, the things we hope for.

Having set out from there, he was led by the Holy Spirit to Caesarea in Cappadocia, where he saw and recognized the great Basil—the mouth of the Church, that golden nightingale of doctrine. When the elder saw him, he began to honor him with many auspicious words. For with the discerning eye of his soul, he saw a radiant dove resting upon his right shoulder, providing him with words of wisdom, which he then set forth to the people. Advised by this sacred and teaching dove, Basil perceived the arrival of the stranger and recognized him to be Ephrem the Syrian. Thus, both were vouchsafed a timely and spiritual communion; and so the laborious journey did not prove useless to Ephrem.

The natural innocence of his life ^C pointed out to him the flight from harmful things. It taught him to foresee what is better and to avoid what is worse, and to choose those thoughts and rational principles that are pure, conducive to the cultivation of virtue, and in no way a hindrance to the practice of teaching. For the talent of speech had been abundantly bestowed upon the holy elder by Christ, a talent which he was obliged, above all else, to lay out upon the tables of the hearts of many. And this, indeed, he seems to have said of himself: that just as he was barely emerging from the tender age of childhood, he beheld mystically, upon his tongue, that a most fruitful vine had grown up, having increased so much that it filled the

^A earth, and every bird of the air that came from it was filled with food. As for the vine itself, the more it was pruned, and the more every bird received of its fruits, so much the more did it abound with clusters. Furthermore, another man, endowed with keen vision, testified that he had seen a sight concerning him: namely, a company of angels descending from heaven, holding in their hands a scroll written within and without. And that divine host which appeared was speaking to itself: "Who then is worthy to receive this scroll?" From among those whom that age held as eminent, some chose this person, others that, and others yet another. Then, after the trial of all, they concluded: "These are indeed holy men and servants of God; yet they are not able to be entrusted with this scroll." But when they had mentioned many of those living at that time, and none among them was found pleasing, at last, having agreed, they said, "No one is able to receive this scroll except Ephraim." And the one who saw this says that he beheld the divine angels delivering the scroll to Ephraim. ^B Having risen in the night, the man who had been initiated into this vision arrived at the church, and hearing Ephraim teaching in a discourse steeped in abundance and grace, he recognized what the vision signified, and praised God, and was struck with wonder at the rich gift of speech granted to the holy man. For such an abundance of wisdom had been bestowed upon him by God, that although perpetual springs of words flowed to him, they were by no means equal to the explanation of the subjects. And this happened not so much through slowness of tongue as through velocity of thought; for the tongue equaled the power of other men's thinking, yet it was too slow to be able to keep pace with his own conceptions. Whence the great elder, beseeching God for a certain singular gift of utterance, is said to have spoken these words: "Grant, O Lord, the rivers of Thy grace." For the depth of his doctrine overwhelmed his tongue, so that he could not express the thoughts of his soul, since the instruments of speech necessary for ^C eloquent expression were insufficient for the task.

Furthermore, nothing interrupted his sermons but prayer, and nothing interrupted his prayer but sermons; these were followed by tears, and prayers by tears again; and his speech was a continuation of his speech; or, to speak more properly, he was assiduously occupied in his discourse with the contemplation of divine things. For he had so mortified his body together with its pleasures, and by temperance had rendered it a slave obedient to its mistress, the reason, that it had no more sense of pleasure than if it were dead. And when, having been previously tamed by fasting and abstinence, it would languish, immobile, toward pursuing what is unseemly, it yet retained strength for the fulfillment of those things which contribute to the salvation of souls. What of the fact that not even the nights, which often deceive men with shadows and images of dreams, interrupted his course of virtue and piety in the least? For whom they had ^D received sober as they approached, him they left behind vigilant as they departed, he being occupied in this: that the hand of the ruler of this darkness might not overtake him while asleep. And he partook of as much sleep as was sufficient for life, so that nothing of the natural necessity might altogether

be removed, lest his flesh suffer violent dissolution. ^A He warded off sleep, and banished it from his eyes, by many other things, but especially by sleeping on the ground, by hardship, and by every manner of bodily austerity. For by these things the affection of sleep is naturally accustomed to be banished. He possessed such great poverty as you hear the holy apostles possessed. Therefore, if anyone were to call him the archetype of those who renounce worldly goods, he would not miss the mark. For we have that very sweetest and blessed voice of his, which, as he was about to depart ^B to heaven, he left to us as a master of poverty, running thus: "There never existed for Ephrem a purse, nor staff, nor wallet. Nor did I ever possess silver, or gold, or any other property on the earth. For I heard the good King in the Gospels saying to his own disciples, *Do not possess anything on the earth* (Matt. x, 9, 10; Luc. ix, 4). Whence, I did not have affection for any such thing." Thus, therefore, being a scorner of glory and riches, and a lover of everything superior, he strove in that same course to reach as close as possible to the apostles themselves.

What, then, should I record of his submission of soul ^C and humility, when his every word and writing loudly proclaim that this virtue was singularly cultivated by him, even while it was being pursued by him with great superabundance? For when indeed would his foot stumble upon the stone of arrogance and elation—he who invited tears with tears, and ate ashes as it were bread, the roughness of his diet and lack of savor, and mixed his drink with weeping, as the scriptures say (Ps. cii, 10),—so that he would strike his soul’s foot against the stone of pride or conceit? Or he who, shunning all human glory, and—while he still walked in this life—feeling ^D vexed if anyone praised him, and changing to another color, and looking down to the earth, would be bathed in a fine sweat, and mastered by a terrible speechlessness, as if shame were making his tongue idle?

But as he was departing to the blessed and unending life, he forbade this very thing again with a strenuous injunction, saying: "Do not sing a song over Ephrem, do not offer an encomium, do not bury me in costly clothing, do not prepare a private tomb for my body; for I have an agreement with God to lodge with the strangers. *I am a sojourner and a stranger, as all my fathers were* (Ps. xxxviii, 13 [LXX])." You have, therefore, in abundance the clear proofs of this virtue, just as also of the others. For the rule and law of truth declares him to have been not only a practitioner of almsgiving and compassion, but also a teacher. For with perfect poverty, having nothing to bestow upon the needy, he practiced almsgiving by arousing others to mercy with frequent exhortations. For his word was in truth, even apart from his appearance, a God-forged key, distributing to the poor the treasures of the rich.

^A His angelic aspect was sufficient of itself, even without any speech, to move those who looked upon him—even the rustic and inhumane—to commiseration; so great was the simplicity, the gentleness, and the probity observed in him. Nor was there anyone so shameless ^B to be found who, upon looking at him, would not be suffused with a certain blush and bashfulness, and who would not become better and more modest than he had been.

And although so many perfections existed in this man, let no one therefore suppose that he lacked a complete knowledge of ecclesiastical matters. For someone might ask: "What leisure could he have had to be divided amongst so many pursuits of virtue?" Indeed, he was not lightly imbued with the knowledge of divine things. ^C For he did not attain it only so far as to be able to instruct others by speaking, but he fully mastered both the institutions of piety and religion and the things that are opposed to them—the former to instruct the people, the latter to refute the heretics. For he was borne against those beasts hostile to piety with a righteous zeal. Indeed, through a certain sermon, which has reached us more by report than by writings, from which it could easily be understood that he was most studious of the truth, he denounced Apollinarius as light-minded—nay, as demented and insane—for in introducing novelties and eructating many impious things from his belly that were contrary to Holy Scripture, and in composing all this in two books, he spoke very insipidly and rashly. These very books ^D he had entrusted for safekeeping to a certain woman, whom he was said to have held in great favor. When this became well known to Ephrem, he feigned that he was of the same opinion, approached the woman who was guarding these profane books, introduced himself, revealed who he was and what favorable things he brought from the desert, and perhaps adding other things of that nature. Finally, he requested that she show him the teacher’s writings for the sake of public utility, so that he might more conveniently oppose us—calling us, as he pretended, heretics. The woman, caught by these words and being deceived into thinking he was one of those who supported the party of Apollinarius, provided the books, asking only that they be returned to her quickly. But this great Jacob, supplanting the demented Esau and seizing those wicked birthrights, prudently suppressed them; for, smearing them all with fish-glue, he joined leaf to leaf in such a way that, since one part could not be clearly separated from the other due to the firm connection, the individual books appeared to be reduced into one single tablet. And thus he returned them to the woman from whom he had received them on loan; and she, as a woman and being ignorant of such clever devices, when she saw the external form of them kept safe, neglected to diligently inspect what was within.

Days had not long passed, however, when the holy elder reported to certain of the orthodox that they should summon Apollinarius so that they might confer with him. Being summoned to judgment, and relying upon those impious books

he declined to speak, as he was worn out by old age, but requested that his own books be brought forward, and that he might answer and argue through them. When, therefore, his fellow-initiates brought the books, greatly boasting over them, he—that judge of wickedness, who had grown old in evil days—took one of the books and attempted to open it. But because it would not yield, being pressed by the glue, he made an attempt at its middle; yet it was found to be glued together in the same way. Since, therefore, he failed with the first, he proceeded to the second, and when he saw that it, too, was entirely one piece and completely unyielding, his face was transformed with shame, his mind was utterly bewildered by the impasse; and as he departed from the assembly, the wretched man, unable to bear the insult, was seized by despondency and sickness, and finally approached death.

Such also was our great father and teacher Ephrem in his zeal for piety; in other matters showing himself gentle and mild when there was no need for conflict, but in others stern and severe when the danger concerning the faith was greatest, managing all things wisely as the occasion required. For this zeal according to God is not less to be commended than his many fasts, tears, and ceaseless prayers; or rather, it is even superior to them, inasmuch as those things limit their benefit only to the one who performs them, while this zeal extends to the common good. ^B For just as the true prowess of an exceptional hunter is shown when he pursues warlike beasts, and the virtue of a good helmsman reveals itself in contrary winds, and that of a wise doctor in more severe maladies, and that of a brave soldier in the heavy and opposing battle-line, so too do great and difficult dangers show the man who is zealous for piety, when he rescues both himself and others from snares and perils. There is no kind of virtue cultivated by the ancients in which he did not also excel. You might liken the soul of this man to a fountain gushing forth with all manner of streams, adorned with benefit, sweetness, and delight, or to a meadow blooming with various fragrant flowers, or to an earthly heaven variegated with diverse lights, or to a paradise—such as you hear the one in Eden was, decorated with an ^C innumerable abundance of fruit-bearing trees (yet so that no access at all was given to the wicked serpent, the author of our common exile)—or anything else beautiful and pleasant with which nature has graced many and various good things; consider the blessed soul of the great Ephrem to be such, adorned from all directions with many forms of virtue. For that man, worthy of all admiration, made it his meditation throughout his entire life to possess virtue in its totality, and he strove to embrace all excellences alone.

For, like a priest, he imitated the God-spoken offering of Abel, who is reckoned first among the righteous; he did not offer sacrifices from flocks of sheep, nor fat to the Lord, but an unbloody sacrifice, the rational service, ^D of a pure life.

^A He rivaled him just so far as not to be slain by the wicked murderer, but by escaping the snares of the man-hating demon, he arrived—like him—at a life that has no end, having shown himself superior to the treachery. He also emulated the hope of Enoch, for he did not merely call upon the name of the Lord God himself, but he also instructed others to join in calling upon it. Enoch did not seek the translation that takes one from the earth to Paradise, but rather the transition from material obsession to the spirit. Noah is like him, not in the small-scale preservation of the race in a wooden ark, but in securing his own soul on every side, so that he might pass through the tempest of life unharmed, and not suffer the loss of the cargo of virtue. ^B He was a follower of Abraham in many other things as well—in faith, in gentleness, and in his love for God—but most especially in his flight from the world; just as that man exchanged his own land and kindred for a friend, so too did this our Ephrem flee the world, and in his own body he expressed the sacrifice of the Only-Begotten, consecrating himself to God and mortifying his members which are upon the earth. He proved to be an imitator of Isaac, on account of the death which he was prepared to undergo with a ready and tranquil mind, though not at the hands of a father. Nay, even daily, like the Apostle, he harvested fruit in the body, so far as his intention was concerned; but in the spirit he lived for God, because of the pure sacrifice of his body, as it were, in the ram. He was a follower of Jacob, by supplanting the profane Esau—that is, the parent of heresies—and by receiving the birthright, namely, the upright dogmas of the Church; and in his beholding, not a ladder fixed from earth to heaven, but a pillar of fire reaching to the heavens, more subtly manifesting the depth of the mystery. Furthermore, even in the future, when he was about to depart from the body, he distributed blessings to his disciples as Jacob did to his sons; whoever diligently delves into these will think that they are those of the great Jacob himself. He followed Joseph, most of all in the purity and chastity of the body, but even more so in the distribution of the Word, just as that man distributed the wheat. He proved himself most similar to Moses in all or the majority of things: for he too fled the sorcerer Pharaoh, and dwelt in the wilderness, and saw God so far as is possible through contemplation; and he performed wondrous deeds, and presented himself to the people as a leader and teacher. He plundered the Egyptians, carrying off their wealth—the books of the heretics—over which he himself triumphed. He divided the salty and unpotable sea of infidelity, and led the faithful people, that orthodox system, safely through. He sank the Pharaohites, those godless offspring of the heretics. He routed Amalek (if you wish to call one of the heretics by this name); he received the law of orthodoxy from God and imparted it to us all. He beheld on the mountain the pattern of the tabernacle, not that of Moses, but of the fearful judgment and state that is to come. He perfected the priests, establishing laws concerning the priesthood. He brought forth water from the rock, causing stony hearts to shed tears

^A With heavenly bread, just like him, he fed the people abundantly, proposing to us words of charity by which souls are most effectively strengthened and are awakened to partake with confidence of that divine and sacred Bread, which for our salvation came hither from the bosom of the Father. He gave them quails, showing us faithful ones how, through the remembrance of God, we may raise ourselves to heaven and contemplate the beauties that are there. And, in simple terms, if you should wish to compare this Father's noble discourses on contemplation to those of the ancients, you will find him in no way inferior.

For even as Joshua, the son of Nun, divided the Jordan, so indeed he opened the hands of the wealthy that had been tightly closed to giving, spreading them instead toward beneficence, and distributed to the people not the land of the lower promise, but that of the heavenly kingdom. ^B As Samuel, he was consecrated to God from infancy and heard the divine voice. As the great Elijah, he reproved the priests of shame, and not once, but often, brought down divine fire upon the rational sacrifice; and by a fiery chariot of virtues, he was carried, not into the aether, but into heaven itself. As Elisha, he obtained a double grace of the Spirit. As the prophets, he was gifted with the merit and grace of divine vision. The discourse even dares to compare this same man with him who is reported to have had no equal among those born of women: with him, I say, who was the mediator between the Law and Grace. For indeed, like that forerunner, he dwelt in the desert, and the word of God came to him as well, and acting as a herald of repentance, he taught those who came to him to confess their sins. As Paul, that vessel of election, he endured various trials and temptations, and as that apostle was the sower of faith, so he with diligence scattered the seeds of repentance. ^C But what need is there to compare him with the saints one by one, when the whole world is filled with his righteous deeds? Long-windedness is superfluous, for his works are sufficiently evident, and the very multitude of words seems to weaken faith, as if his virtues were not clearly declared by the things themselves, but still needed the aid of discourse. Therefore, it would be worthwhile to add to this discourse, as some most sweet condiment, the story of his demise from this mortal life, which is truly famous and resembles a miracle.

For this God-bearing man, being now about to depart to the heavens, instructed those who were then present not to bury his body in costly clothing. ^D And if anyone, out of greater affection for the father, had thought of or prepared such a thing, he forbade them to carry out their plan, but commanded them, upon changing their minds for the better, to give to the poor that which he had intended for the adornment of his burial. When, therefore, one of those who were present, a man of particular nobility, having prepared a garment of great price in which to commit the body of the holy old man to burial, heard his rebuke, he was grieved; and considering in his mind that it would be better, if he gave to the needy in its place the same amount of money that the garment had cost, he decided to bestow the prepared garment upon the poor. And being immediately struck by an evil spirit, he began to reap the bitterest fruits of his disobedience.

^A And he tore himself before the bed of the holy man, spewing foam from his mouth. The most compassionate man of God said to the sufferer: “What, O man, have you committed, that you have cast yourself into this danger?” Roused by the command of the elder, though the evil spirit had darkened his mind, he revealed the secret intention he had conceived in himself of not obeying his commands and made his disobedience manifest. The most compassionate elder, having pity on him as he confessed, healed him by the laying on of holy hands and by prayer, delivering him from that affliction. He restored him to his former health, and addressed him thus: “Fulfil, O man, what you promised long ago.”

^B Having performed such a wonder towards the end of his life, and having stirred up those present with many pious exhortations to the zeal of virtue, as his final words reveal, he breathed his last and departed happily to the tranquil harbor of the eternal kingdom, increasing the number of the blessed who had been from the beginning of the world by a holy addition, pleasing to God. For his soul settled in the heavenly tabernacles, where there are the orders of angels, where the populations of the patriarchs are, where the choirs of the prophets are, where the thrones of the apostles are, where the joy of the martyrs is, where the gladness of the pious is, where the splendor of the teachers is, where the celebrated gatherings of the firstborn are, where the pure voices of those who exult are, where those good things lie open which the angels desire to look into—into that holy place the most blessed and holy soul of our blessed and famous Father Ephrem arrived.

I believe, indeed, that as it ascended into heaven, the virtues which it had cultivated in this life went before it, and that they showed it those hidden and most beautiful things which cannot be seen by mortal eyes; and that Charity, the most excellent of all, approaching it, said thus: “Behold, beloved soul, the beauty which I have prepared for you,” and at the same time showed it the delights. And that Humility, running to meet it, spoke thus: “Look, O soul dear to God, what a place of rest I have adorned for you.” And that all the others recounted them one by one, and showed the rewards which, even then, while they were still being cultivated and practiced by it in the body, were being procured for the future. ^C O migration to be celebrated and worthy of imitation! O death that has no need of tears! O separation that brings about the desired union! O departure, the one departing from which has no regrets! O funeral, exempt from all pain and distress! For while we contemplate his ways, we receive consolation therefrom. For the death of other men is known to provide cause for weeping to those who are left behind, but for the saints it is made a cause of joy and celebration; because such a death is not death, but rather a departure and a passing to a better life from here.

^D These eulogies, O best of Fathers and teacher of the world, our bold tongue offers to you as humble little gifts: not, indeed, according to your worth, nor as if you were in need—for what glory could a speech bestow, failing as it does in merit

^A to reach the glory of the one being praised? It is rather for the benefit of the living; for the eulogies of good and superior men bring the greatest consolation and exhortation to better things for the majority. We have taken up this task of praise all the more readily, driven by various other reasons besides the fame of your life and teaching, which is celebrated throughout the whole world; chief among them is that care which you bestowed upon the man who shares your name. For he who compelled us to undertake this burden—having been captured in war by the descendants of Ishmael, and having been separated for no small time from his homeland—upon longing to return and being ignorant of the way, encountered your miraculous intervention; he was taught the path most suited for his rescue, and he truly did not miss his mark. ^B Indeed, having arrived at the very height of danger, expecting death, and confined by the hostility of the barbarians along the road, he merely invoked your name, saying, "Saint Ephrem, help me." And thus, he safely escaped the snares of peril, disregarded the fear of death, and having obtained an unexpected salvation, he was restored to his homeland beyond all hope, guarded by your providence. On account of this, we were emboldened to proceed to the aforementioned matters and dared to touch upon your praises with unclean lips. And if we have greatly exceeded what is fitting in our words, we shall attribute the cause of this success to you and confess our gratitude to you. But if our praises fall far short of your dignity, we will once again blame you for our failure, even if the statement seems somewhat bold. For you, wishing to shun praises, desiring to be humble in life just as you were upon your departure, hinder those who wish to praise you. ^C Yet, whether it be this or the former case, we have discharged our duty as best we could, and we trust that you will not turn away from us who are such fervent lovers of our fathers; but rather, as a father receives the lisping of children as dear to him, you will accept these. Do you, therefore, while standing before the divine altar and serving the Life-originating and most holy Trinity alongside the angels, remember us all, beseeching for us the forgiveness of sins and the enjoyment of the eternal kingdom, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom with the unoriginated Father and the divine and life-giving Spirit, be glory now and always, and unto the ^D ages of ages. Amen.

FUNERAL ORATION FOR THE GREAT MELETIUS, BISHOP OF ANTIOCH

^A The new apostle, who has been co-opted into the order of the apostles, has increased the number of the apostles for us. For the saints have drawn to themselves one like them in character; the athlete, the athlete; the crowned, the crowned; the chaste in spirit, those pure in heart; the herald of the Word, the ministers of the Word. But our Father is indeed to be called blessed, both for his apostolic fellowship and for his departure to Christ; we, however, are miserable. For the untimely nature of our orphanhood does not allow us to call ourselves blessed on the grounds that we had obtained such a good and beneficial father. For him, it was better to be with Christ through his departure, but for us, it is bitter and burdensome to be deprived of paternal protection and patronage. For behold, it is a time of counsel, and the one who was accustomed to give counsel is silent. War surrounds us, a heretical war; and there is no one to offer himself as our leader. The common body of the Church labors under infirmities, and we do not find a physician. See in what a state our affairs are. I wish, if it were at all possible, that my weakness could be strengthened to match the magnitude of this calamity, and that I might break forth with some voice that would respond to our misfortune, just as those noble men have done, who lamented with a loud voice the calamity of the lost father. ^B But what shall I do? How shall I constrain my tongue to serve the oration, when it is as if shackled by a heavy bond, impeded by calamity? How shall I open my mouth, when it is taken captive by taciturnity and silence? By what reason shall I send forth a voice that slides by habit into passions and laments? How shall I look up with the eyes of the soul, when I am surrounded by the gloom of calamity? Who, having dispersed this dense and dark cloud of sadness for me, will again reveal from the serenity the bright ray of peace? And from where will the ray even shine forth, when the star has set for us? O wretched dark night, which hopes not for the rising of light! In how contrary a manner are words spoken by us in this place and at this time, compared to how they were spoken but a moment ago! Then we danced as if at a wedding; now we groan, miserably lamenting in our grief. Then we sang an epithalamium; now we sing a funeral dirge. For you remember when we feasted you at the spiritual wedding, settling the virgin with the good bridegroom, and

bringing forth the wedding gifts of speech according to our ability, rejoicing in the part and being rejoiced with. But now our joy has been turned into lamentation, and our garment of gladness has become a sackcloth. Or was it perhaps fitting to keep silent about the calamity and to close up the sorrow within by silence, so as not to trouble the sons of the bridal chamber, having no bright wedding garment, but mournfully attired in word? For since the good bridegroom has been taken from us, we have suddenly turned black with grief, and it is not possible to adorn the speech in the customary way, since envy has despoiled us of the robe that adorned us. ^A We approached you full of good things; naked and poor we depart from you. We held a torch straight over our head, shining with rich light; we return it extinguished, the splendor having dissipated into smoke and ash. We had that great treasure in an earthen vessel. But the treasure is hidden, and escapes the sight; but the earthen vessel, empty of wealth, remains for those who gave it. What shall we say, who sent it forth? What will they answer, from whom it is demanded? O evil shipwreck! How have we suffered shipwreck in the midst of the harbor of our hope? How has the ship, laden with a thousand mercies, sunk with all its cargo, leaving us who were once rich, naked? Where is that brilliant sail, which was always steered by the Holy Spirit? Where is the safe rudder of our souls, by which we steered through heretical storms without harm? Where is the unshakable anchor of [our] resolve, in which we rested with all security after our labors? Where is the good helmsman, who directed the ship toward the goal above? ^B Are the things that have happened minor, and do I grieve in vain? Or rather, do I not attain to the [depth of the] grief, even if I strain my voice in speech? Lend us, brothers, lend us tears from your sympathy. For when you were rejoicing, we shared in your joy. Therefore, return to us this bitter exchange. "Rejoice with those who rejoice"—this we have done. "Weep with those who weep"—this do you return. Once, a foreign people wept over the patriarch Jacob, and made the alien calamity their own, when those who transported the father out of Egypt, with the whole populace—all, without regard for sex or age—lamented his passing in a foreign land, continuing the mourning and lamentation for him, in his name, for thirty days and just as many nights. ^C You who are brothers and fellow-countrymen, imitate the foreigners and aliens. Those tears of the travelers and the natives were then common; let them be common now also, since the calamity is also common. Look at these patriarchs; all these are children of our Jacob. All were born of a free woman. No one is a bastard or a supposititious child. For it was not fitting for him to introduce servile lineage into the nobility of the faith. Therefore, he is also our father, because he was the father of our Father. ^D

You have heard just now from Ephraim and Manasseh what and how many things they recounted concerning the Father, so that speech cannot attain to the miracles. Give me leave also to speak concerning these things. For it is henceforth safe to set forth his blessed deeds; nor do I fear envy. For what greater evil can it inflict upon me? Therefore, recognize what manner of man he is: noble from the rising of the sun, blameless, just, truthful, pious and religious, abstaining from every evil deed. For the great Job will surely not be jealous if even an imitator of his is adorned with the testimonies that are reported of him. But envy, which beholds all noble things, looked also upon our good with a bitter eye; and the one who walks about the world walked also among us, leaving a broad footprint of affliction impressed upon our prosperous affairs. It did not scatter herds of oxen and sheep, unless one would take "the flock" in the mystical sense as the Church. However, envy did not cause us damage in these things, nor did it inflict injury in asses and camels; nor did it afflict our senses with sharp pain by a wound of the flesh; but it deprived us of our head. And with the head, our honorable and noble instruments of sense were taken away. No longer is there an eye that may contemplate heavenly things; nor an ear that may hear the divine voice; nor that tongue, the pure offering of truth. Where is that sweet serenity of the eyes? Where is that pleasant and charming smile upon his lips? Where is that gracious right hand, ready for greeting, which used to beckon with the fingers along with the blessing of the mouth? But I am being carried away, as if on the stage, to proclaim the calamity with a loud voice: I pity you, holy Church; I address you, O city of Antioch! I pity you on account of this sudden and abrupt change. How has your beauty been despoiled! How has your adornment been taken away! How has the flower suddenly fallen! Truly, the grass has withered, and the flower has fallen. ^C What evil eye, what wicked witchcraft has rioted and raged against that Church? For what, and for what has it exchanged them! The fountain has failed. The river has dried up. The water has again been turned into blood. O the miserable messenger who shall announce this calamity to the Church! Who will tell the children that they have been orphaned and left destitute? Who will announce to the bride that she has become a widow? O these evils! What have they sent forth, and what do they receive? They sent forth an Ark, and they receive a sarcophagus. The Ark, brethren, was that man of God, an ark containing within itself the divine mysteries; there was the golden urn full of the divine manna, full of that heavenly food. In it were the tablets of the covenant, inscribed on the tablets of the heart by the Spirit of the living God, not with ink. ^D For no dark and black intellect was branded or impressed upon that purity of heart. In it were the pillars, the bases, and the supports, the capitals, the censer, the lampstand, the propitiatory, the basins, the veils extended at the entrances, and the curtains; in it was the rod of the priesthood, which blossomed in his hands. And if we hear of anything else that the Ark contained, all these things were contained in the soul of the man.

^A But what is to be said instead of these things? Let the discourse be silent. Clean shrouds and silk cloths; the liberality and abundance of ointments and aromatics—these are the show of a woman who is orderly and virtuous. For it will be said, as if these too might become a testimony to her, what she did for the priest, when she poured the alabaster of ointment lavishly upon the priest’s head. But what is it that is preserved within these things? Dead bones, which even before death had meditated upon mortality: burdensome monuments of our calamities. Oh, what a voice will again be heard in Rama! Rachel weeping not for her children, but for her husband, and not admitting consolation. "Cease, O ye who console, cease. Do not contend so as to console." Let the widow bear the heaviness and mourn. Let her feel the loss she has sustained. Although she is not inexperienced in separation, as she had already been accustomed to bear solitude and destitution in the struggles of the athlete. You remember completely how the discourse before us set forth ^B to you the struggles of the man, and how through everything he honored the holy Trinity, and preserved that honor even in the number of his struggles, as one who contended through three onsets of temptations. You heard the sequence, the context and series of his labors, what he was like in the beginning, what he was like in the middle, what he was like in the end. I deem a repetition of things well-spoken to be superfluous. But to say this much, perhaps, would not be untimely. When that sober Church first saw the man, she saw a face truly fashioned in the image of God; she saw love gushing forth like a fountain; she saw grace poured upon his lips; she saw the highest degree of humility, after which nothing more can be conceived: she saw ^C gentleness and clemency, such as was in David; intelligence and prudence, such as in Solomon; goodness, such as in Moses; perfection, such as in Samuel; continence and modesty, such as in Joseph; wisdom, such as in Daniel; such as the great Elias, endowed with zeal for the faith; such as the sublime John, adorned with the integrity of his body; such as Paul, endowed with insuperable love. She saw such an assembly of so many good things around one soul; she was wounded with blessed love, having loved her own bridegroom with a chaste and good affection. But before she could satisfy her desire, before she could rest her longing—still burning with his love—she was left alone, while the tempter called the athlete to the struggles. And he indeed was struggling in the sweats for the sake of piety, while she remained in temperance, guarding the marriage. A long time was in the ^D interval, and some one tried to violate the immaculate bridal chamber. But the bride was not defiled; and again there was a return, and again exile; and this happened a third time, until the Lord, having dispersed the heretical darkness and applied the ray of peace, gave some hope of rest from the long labors; but after they saw one another again, and the chaste love and spiritual delights of the soul were renewed, and the desire was again ignited, this last departure immediately severs and interrupts the perception of pleasure.

^A He came to adorn you as a bride and to prepare the wedding, nor did he undertake this in vain. He placed the crowns of blessing upon this noble union; he imitated the Lord, as the Lord in Cana of Galilee, so too this imitator of Christ here. For the Jewish water jars, filled with the water of heresy, by the power of faith he caused to be transformed, making them full of pure and incorrupt wine, changing their nature. He often set before you a sober chalice, pouring forth grace abundantly with his sweet voice; often he set before you the rational feast. He, indeed, led the way in blessing; these noble disciples then ministered, explaining the word in detail to the crowds. And we rejoice, taking your glory as our own. How splendid are these narratives thus far; how blessed and desirable it would be to conclude and finish the discourse here! But what after this? ^B "Call the mourning women," says Jeremiah. For in no other way can a burning heart, swelling with grief, be softened and assuaged, unless it be lightened by groans and tears. Then, the separation was consoled by the hope of return; but now, our final separation has been sundered. A great chasm is fixed in the middle between him and the Church; he indeed rests in the bosom of Abraham, but there is no one to bring a drop of water so that the tongue of the tormented might be cooled. That beauty has departed, the voice is silent; the lips are closed, the grace has flown away. Like a narrative of something past, such happiness has vanished. It was once grievous even to the people of Israel that Elijah was taken up from earth to God. But Elisha, adorned with the fur mantle of his master, consoled the departure. ^C Now, however, the wound exceeds the art of healing: for both Elijah has been taken up, and Elisha has not been left behind. You have heard certain sad and mournful voices from Jeremiah, with which he laments the city of Jerusalem as desolate, who, while he utters other things with compassion, also says this: "The ways of Sion mourn" (Lam. I, 4). These things were said then, but now they are fulfilled. For when the report of the suffering is proclaimed, then the ways will be full of mourners, and those who were shepherded by him will pour forth, imitating the voice of the Ninevites in their calamity; nay, rather, groaning even more painfully and bitterly than they. For to them their lamentation dissolved their fear; but for these, no remedy for evils is hoped for from lamentations. ^D I know also another voice of Jeremiah, counted among the books of the Psalms, which he uttered in the name of the Israelite captivity. The words of Scripture are as follows: "On the willows we hung our instruments" (Ps. CXXXVI, 2), condemning both ourselves and our instruments to silence. I usurp this chant for my own case. For if I see the heretical confusion (and Babylon is confusion), and if I see the temptations which flow through that confusion; these I declare to be those Babylonian rivers, by which we sit and weep, because we do not have one who might lead us through them. And if you speak of the willows, and the instruments hanging upon them, this too shall be my enigma, for indeed the willow is

^A a barren tree: and from us the sweet fruit of life has fallen away. Therefore we have become barren willows, since we hang the instruments of love, idle and motionless, upon the wood. If I forget you, it says, O Jerusalem, let my right hand be forgotten. Grant me to change the scripture a little and alter it, by saying that it is not we who have forgotten the right hand, but rather the right hand that has forgotten us; and the tongue, sticking to its own throat, has blocked and stopped up the outlets of the voice, so that we may no longer hear that sweet voice again. But wipe away my tears; for I feel that I am weeping over this calamity in an unmanly fashion, beyond what is proper. The bridegroom has not been taken from us; he stands in our midst, even if we do not see him. ^B The priest is in the inner sanctum, in the interior parts of the veil, where Christ entered as a forerunner for us; he has laid aside the veil of the flesh. No longer does he serve the pattern and shadow of heavenly things, but he gazes upon the very image of the realities; no longer through a mirror and in an enigma, but face to face he makes intercession before God. And he intercedes for us and for the errors of the people. He has laid aside the garments of skin; for there is no need of such garments for those who dwell in paradise. But he has garments which he wove with the purity of his own life, and with these he has adorned himself. Precious is the death of such a one before the Lord. Or rather, it is not death, but a breaking of chains. For you have broken, he says, my bonds. Simeon has been released, he has been freed from the bonds of the body. The snare was broken, and the little bird flew away. He has left Egypt, the material life; he has passed over, not this Red Sea, but that dark and gloomy sea of life; he has entered into the land of promise; upon the mountain he philosophizes with God; he has loosed the sandal of his soul, so that with a pure plant of the mind he might tread upon the holy ground, where God is beheld.

Having this consolation, brothers—you who are transporting the bones of Joseph to the land of blessing—hear the words of Paul as he charges us: Do not grieve as the rest who have no hope. Tell the people who are there; relate the good accounts. Tell of the miracle, to which faith can hardly be given: how the myriad-headed crowd, becoming condensed in the manner of the sea, ^D were all one single continuous body, surging like a sort of water around the procession of the tabernacle. How noble David, dividing himself in many parts and in many ways into myriad ranks, danced around the tabernacle among those both of different and of the same language. How on either side rivers of fire, flowing in a continuous and unbroken draught with the torches held by the people, extended as far as the eye could reach. Proclaim the zeal of the whole people, the gathering of the apostles. How the sweat-cloths from his face were distributed as safeguards for the faithful. Let there be added to the account the king

of the faithful. Let the narrative be added ^A that the emperor, grieving for the calamity and rising from his throne, and the whole city together with the procession of the saint, was passing by; and console one another with these words. Solomon rightly heals sadness. For he bids wine to be given to those affected by sadness, meaning by this us, the laborers of the vineyard. Give, therefore, your wine to those who are saddened, not the one that induces drunkenness, or lays traps for the mind, or corrupts the body, but that which causes the heart to rejoice, which the Prophet pointed out to us, saying: *Wine gladdens the heart of man* (Ps. CIII, 15). With a more potent mixture, and with more abundant chalices of spiritual discourse, welcome them, so that for you the mourning may again be turned into joy and exultation, through the grace of the only-begotten Son of God, through whom glory [is] to God and the Father unto the ages of ages. Amen.

BY THE SAME FUNERAL ORATION ON PULCHERIA

By the same interpreter.

^C Equidem, I do not know how I shall direct my speech. For I see a twofold subject, and it is sad and bitter on both sides, so that whichever the discourse takes up, it cannot easily avoid tears. The present turn of time, as it was announced to us yesterday by the shepherd, contains the memory of bitter events that once happened to the neighboring city through an earthquake: who could recount that without tears? But this great and illustrious capital, set before the whole world that is subject to the sun, has sustained another earthquake, and was not a little despoiled of its ornament, being suddenly deprived of the luminary that shone within it for the increase of imperial happiness, and for this reason, it is mourning and condoling together with the grieving emperors. You are not, however, entirely ignorant of what is being said, you who fill this assembly, seeing both this very place in which we are gathered and the sadness therein. I do not know, therefore, to which earthquake I should turn my speech, to that which is happening now, or to the one that happened long ago? ^D Yet it is well to stand against the excessive suffering, and to mitigate the city’s own pain, by soothing the suffering with certain reasonings, as if [applying a remedy].

For even those physicians are wise who, by their skill, occupy themselves with the excessive pains, while deferring the treatment of those that are less painful. For just as those skilled in these matters say that if two pains should strike the same body at once, only that which exceeds it is felt, as the intensity of the prevailing agony suppresses the lesser pain: so too do I observe in the present case. For our new and immediate grief is sharper and more vehement than those things the memory of which is bitter to us. For how could anyone not be affected by what has occurred? Who is so dispassionate in soul? Who is so iron-hearted in nature, as to receive what has happened without pain? You surely knew this young dove raised in the royal nest, who was just beginning to grow her bright plumage, but in her graces and virtues she surpassed her years, so that, having left the nest, she departed, having flown from our eyes, having been snatched away ^B suddenly by envy from our hands. Whether one ought to call her a dove, or a freshly budding flower—which had not yet fully shone forth from its calyx, but one part of it already shone, and the other was expected to shine; and yet, in that small and immature state, it shone with excess—how it was suddenly extinguished in the bud, and before it could reach its prime and unfold the whole flower in fragrance, it withered around itself and became dust, and no one plucked it, nor was it wreathed; but in vain did nature labor. Where the good was indeed in hope and anticipation, envy, like a sword striking from the side, interrupted the hope.

That which has happened, brothers, was an earthquake, in very truth an earthquake, and no milder than the most grievous of disasters. For it was not the soulless beauty of buildings that it demolished, nor did it cast down to the ground florid paintings or sights of stones of exquisite beauty; but that very edifice of nature itself, splendid in beauty, excelling in the radiance of its graces, this earthquake abruptly falling upon it, dissolved. ^C I also saw that sublime sprout, the high-crowned palm (I speak of the imperial power) which, with its imperial virtues as if with branches, rises above the whole inhabited world and embraces all things; I saw him, indeed, surpassing and conquering others, yet yielding to nature and, on account of the loss of the flower, bowing down. I saw also the noble vine which was entwined with the palm, which had brought forth this flower for us—what new pains, as if in labor again, did she endure in soul, not in body, when this growth of hers was torn away? Who passed by this tragedy without tears? Who did not lament this loss of life? Who did not weep with this calamity? Who did not mix his own voice with the common chorus of mourning? I saw a sight of faith, one that would not come to the belief of those who heard of the miracles ^D

^A I saw a sea of people by reason of the density of those standing together, just as if it were water appearing in every direction to the eyes; the temple was full, the court of the temple was full, the adjoining square, the side streets, the intersections, the middle, the crossways, the wide spaces of the buildings. Everything that could be seen was full of people, just as if the whole world had run together to the same place because of that disaster and misfortune. The sight set before all was that holy flower being carried upon a golden litter. How downcast and mournful were the faces of all who looked upon it! How tear-filled were their eyes! Hands clapped together! Groans in addition to these, indicating the sorrow of the heart within! At that time, it did not seem to me (nor perhaps to others who were present then) that the gold shone with its natural beauty; nay, even the flashes of the jewels, the golden cloths, the splendors of the silver, and the light of the fire—which was both great and abundant, cast forward from the wax candles standing on either side—all grew dark in the mourning, and everything partook of the common gloom. Then even the great David accommodated his own hymns and songs of praise ^B to the lamentations, and instead of a cheerful chorus, having taken up a mournful and sorrowful one, he invited lamentations with his melodies. And since every pleasure had been driven and removed from the souls at that moment in time, only tears were a pleasure to the people.

Since, therefore, reason has been so overcome by perturbation, it would not be inopportune to restore and strengthen the weary mind, as far as it is possible, through the counsel of logical argument. For the danger is not small, lest, if we are not listeners to this word of the Apostle, we be condemned together with those who are without hope. For he says, just as we heard from him who was just now reading, that we ought not to be afflicted with sadness for the sake of those who have fallen asleep. For that perturbation is only for those who do not have hope. Yet someone, I suppose, among the faint-hearted, might say that the divine Apostle commands things that are impossible, and that he transcends nature with his precepts. For how is it possible for one living in nature to overcome the perturbation of the passions, and not be conquered by sorrow at such a spectacle, when death has not befallen at its proper time in old age, but in the first stage of life the season of beauty is extinguished by death, ^C the beam of the eyes is covered by the eyelids, the flush of the cheeks is changed into pallor, the mouth is held fast by silence, and the flower that was accustomed to appear on the lips turns dark; and this appears bitter not only to the parents but also to whoever happens to look upon the tragedy? What then shall we say against these things? We will not speak our own word, brothers, but we will bring forward the saying from the Gospel that was read to us. For you heard the Lord saying: ^D "Suffer the little children, and do not forbid them to come to me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." Therefore, even if from you also the child has departed,

^A she has run back to the Lord; she closed her eyes for you, but opened them to the eternal light; she was removed from your table, but was added to the angelic one; her plant was pulled up from here, but it was set in paradise; she was transferred from kingdom to kingdom; she took off the bloom of purple, but she put on the garment of the kingdom above. Let me tell you the material from which the divine garment is made: it is not linen, nor wool, nor filaments of silk. Hear David, who describes from what source the garments are woven for God: "You have put on confession and magnificence, wrapping yourself in light as with a garment." Do you see what kind of things she exchanged for what others? Does it grieve you and is it burdensome to you that the beauty of her body is no longer visible? You do not see the true beauty of her soul, which now exults and rejoices in the assembly of the ^B heavenly beings. How beautiful is that eye which sees God! How sweet the mouth adorned with divine hymns! "For out of the mouth of infants and nursing babes," he says, "you have perfected praise." How beautiful are the hands that never performed evil! How comely the feet that did not approach wickedness, nor fix their imprint on the path of sinners! How beautiful is the entire appearance of that soul, not adorned with the gleams of stones, but shining with simplicity, integrity, and innocence! But perhaps it grieves you that she did not reach old age. For tell me, what beauty do you see in old age? Is it beautiful for the eyes to itch and be rubbed, for the cheeks to be wrinkled, for teeth to fall from the mouth, for a stammering ^C to be produced in the tongue, to tremble in the hand, to bow down to the earth, to limp with the feet, to lean on walking sticks, to be senseless in heart, to be delirious, and to utter words with an absurd and inept voice? Such are the inconveniences that necessarily happen to this age. And are we indignant and sullen on this account, that she did not arrive at the experience of such evils? Yet it is fitting to congratulate those whose lives did not undergo the trial of bitter and sad things, and who, as they sensed no trouble here, will experience no bitterness there. For such a soul, having no guilt in itself for which it might come into judgment, does not fear hell, does not dread judgment; it remains fearless and undismayed, with no evil conscience ^D bringing upon it the terror of judgment. "But," one says, "it was necessary for her to have come to a proper measure of age, and to have been gladdened in the bridal chamber." But to this the true bridegroom will say to you that the bridal bed in heaven is better, and that chamber is to be preferred where there is no fear of widowhood. Of what good, then, I ask you, is she deprived, now that she has put off this carnal life? Let me tell you the goods of this life: sicknesses of the soul and troubles, pleasures, angers, fears, hopes, desires, and cravings: these and such as these are what we are entangled and connected with in the present life. What evil, then, has befallen her, who has been liberated from so many tyrants? For every passion, when it prevails and dominates, with our reasonings subjugated to it, becomes a tyrant of our soul. Is it evil

in that she was not worn down by the sorrows of bearing, or that she was not worn away by the cares of rearing children, or that she did not endure the like pains which her own progenitors sustained for her sake? ^A But such things are to be called blessings, not lamentations. For to be in no evil at all is a state better than human nature can grasp. Thus also the wise Solomon in his own writings judges the dead to be more blessed than the living. Likewise the great David declares that the life led in the flesh is worthy of lamentation and groaning. Yet, though both were brilliant and magnificent, being endowed with royal power, and being masters and partakers of all things which are considered sweet and pleasant in life, they were not at all inclined toward the use and enjoyment of present things; but being held by the desire for the secret goods which are set before us in the incorporeal life, they accounted the life spent in the flesh a state of calamity and misfortune. I have heard David in many places of the holy Psalms, when he desired to escape from such a necessity, saying in one place: *My soul longeth and fainteth for the courts of the Lord*; ^B and in another: *Bring my soul out of prison*. Similarly, Jeremiah also judges that day to be worthy of malediction and execration which was the beginning for him of such a life. And it is possible to find many such voices of the ancient saints, which are recorded and preserved in divine Scripture, for whom, out of desire for the true life, the life led in the flesh was heavy and burdensome. Thus also the great Abraham once readily offered his beloved son to God through sacrifice, knowing that the departure would come to pass for the child toward something better and more divine. But as many of you as are experienced in this history, you are by no means ignorant of the accounts concerning him. For what does the Scripture say? That when Abraham was indeed a young man, a promise was made to him by God regarding a future son, but when the peak of his integrity and vigor had passed, and by the time [it] had already withered and been exhausted, when nature had ceased to increase and propagate itself—old age no longer obeying the impulses—then, beyond human hopes, the promise is brought to completion and fulfillment; and the boy Isaac is born. And after a period of time had elapsed, when like a certain sprout he had shot up into beauty and stature, he was delightful to the eyes of his parents, shining with the grace of youthful age; then the trial and test of Abraham's soul is brought forward, to see if he truly and accurately discerned in the nature of things what was superior, or if he looked to the present life. And God says to him: ^C *Offer your son as a sacrifice for a burnt offering*. You know perfectly well, as many of you as are parents and have children, and have been taught by nature the affection toward children, how it is likely Abraham was disposed, if he looked only to the present life, if he were a slave to nature, if he considered the sweetness of life to be in the present. And what shall I say of her, leaving aside his wife, the weaker part of human nature? If she had not been instructed by her husband in the more divine things, if she did not know that the hidden life is better than the visible, she would not have allowed the man to act in such a way against the child. For surely, having been moved by maternal affections, she would have poured herself over the

^A son, and embracing him in her arms, would have received the fatal wound in his stead. Would she not have used such words to Abraham? "Spare the boy, my husband; do not become a wicked story for the life of men; do not let us become a fable for the time to come; do not begrudge the son of life; do not deprive him of the sweet ray of the sun. A nuptial chamber, not a grave, is what is customarily prepared and sought by parents for their children; a wedding crown, not a murderous sword; a bridal torch, not a funeral fire. These things thieves and enemies commit, not the hands of fathers against their children. But if this evil must by all means be committed and enacted, let not the eye of Sarah see Isaac being slain; lo, drive the sword through us both, beginning with me, the wretched one; one blow will suffice for both. Let the grave be common to both; let one monument lament the common disaster." ^B Sarah would surely have said these things and such as these, had she not seen with her eyes what is invisible to us. For she knew that the end of life in the flesh becomes the beginning of a more divine life for those who have departed; she leaves behind shadows and lays hold of the truth; she dismisses deceits and errors and disturbances, and she finds those goods which are above eye and ear and heart. Neither will love for him distress her, nor will sordid desire distort her; neither will pride puff her up, nor will any other passion that grieves the soul trouble her, but God becomes everything to her. For this reason she willingly gives the child to God. ^C But what of the great Job? When he was suddenly stripped of all his possessions by one assault of adverse fortune, before he had collected his soul from the preceding blows and calamities, the final disaster was announced to him. With what spirit did he receive the fall of his children? He had three daughters and seven sons, a man blessed in his goodly offspring; for although there were so many, they were all as one in their mutual affection; not living separately or dividedly each by himself, but all visiting one another, and through their accustomed friendliness they continued to gladden one another in turn and were gladdened; and so it was then that, according to their custom, there was a feast at the house of the eldest of the brothers; the mixing bowls were full, the table full of food; in their hands were cups; there were spectacles, as is likely, and recitations, and all the joys of a feast; one way of life, friendliness, games, smiles: everything that is likely to be enjoyed in a gathering of young people in their own home. What then? After these things, when in the height of the enjoyment of the pleasantest ^D things the roof collapsed upon them, the feast becomes the tomb of the ten children. And the mixing bowl is mingled with the blood of the youths, and the food was defiled with the gore from their bodies. When such a disaster was announced to Job (look, I pray you, through the discourse at the athlete, not only so that you may marvel at the victor—for the profit from the marvel is small—but so that you may emulate the man in similar circumstances, and he may become for you a trainer

^A of his own soul, anointing it toward patience and courage at the time of the engagement of temptations. What then did the man do? Did he do anything ignoble or small-minded; or did he speak with his speech, or manifest by his demeanor—either by scratching his cheek with his nails, or plucking hairs from his head, or casting dust upon himself, or lashing his breast with his hands, or casting his body upon the ground, or surrounding himself with professional mourners, or calling out the names of those who have departed, and lamenting them in his memory? There is nothing of this. But the messenger of the evil tidings recounted the disaster regarding the children; and he, as soon as he heard, straightway philosophized concerning the nature of things, saying whence things are, and by whom they are brought into being, and who is fitting to preside over the things that are. “The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away.” From God, he says, is the genesis for men, and to Him is the dissolution; whence it was brought forth, to that it also returns. God, therefore, who has the authority to give, the same also has the authority to take away. Being good, He deliberates good things; being wise, He knows what is profitable. As it seemed good to the Lord (and it seemed entirely good), so also He did. “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

You see how great is the loftiness of the athlete’s greatness of soul; he transferred the storm of affliction to the study of the contemplation of things. For he knew precisely that ^B true life is stored and hidden through hope, but the present life is as it were a seed of the one to come. ^C But things hoped for and expected excel the present things by as much as the ear of corn differs from the grain from which it sprouts. The present life is analogous to the grain; but the life expected is shown and designated by the beauty of the ear. “For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.” Looking to these things, Job congratulates his children for their felicity, as those who were sooner released from the bonds of life. The evidence for which is this: that when God had promised that a double measure of all the things that had been taken away would be restored, with the restitution doubled in all other things, he did not seek the duplication of his children alone; but only ten were given in place of the ten that had been taken away. Since the souls of men abide forever, for this reason he receives a double recompense for the things that were lost. But regarding the children, those born afterwards are reckoned together with those born before, as if all live to God, and temporal death is no hindrance to those who have ^D departed from being. For death is nothing else among men than a cleansing of vice. Since, indeed, our nature at the beginning was produced as a vessel receptive of good things by the God of all

but because the enemy of our souls poured in evil upon us through deceit, it held no place for the good; for this reason, ^A so that the vice that has taken root in us might not endure forever, by a better providence the vessel is dissolved for a time by death, so that when the vice has flowed out, the human race may be refashioned and restored, whole and pure from the admixture of vice, to its pristine state of life. For this is resurrection, namely, the restoration of our nature to its original state. If, therefore, it is impossible for nature to be transformed to a better form without resurrection, and if resurrection cannot take place unless death has preceded it, then death must be a good thing, becoming for us the beginning and the path of the transformation unto something better. Let us not, therefore, brethren, cast away grief concerning those who have fallen asleep, which is borne only by those who have no hope. ^B But our hope is Christ, to whom be glory and power, honor and adoration, unto the ages. Amen.

BY THE SAME FUNERAL ORATION ON EMPRESS PLACILLA

(Interpreted by the same.)

1. The faithful and prudent steward (for I begin from those things which were read from the divine Gospel), whom the Lord has set over this house to give the measured ration of food to those under his care in due season, having well, in the preceding time, condemned speech to ^C silence—he who, having rightly perceived the magnitude of the calamity, wished to honor the mourning with silence—I do not know how, in the present assembly, he brings the discourse back to the Church, himself rescinding his own judgment against speech. And although I greatly admire the teacher for his prudence in many things, I have admired him above measure in this, that, upon a recent tragedy, he rightly imposed silence upon speech. For silence seems to me a remedy fit and appropriate for those who mourn, as it slowly disperses, through ^D rest and dejection, the swelling of the soul. For if anyone were still...

^A to introduce speech while the calamity is still inflaming the mind, the wound of grief would become more difficult to heal, breaking open again by the mention of bitter things, like one who is torn by thorns. And unless it is quite too bold for me also to attempt to correct the master in some respect, perhaps it would have been well to maintain our silence until now, so that our speech, if brought down to the calamity, might not grieve the ears. For not yet has so much time elapsed that the mind could grow accustomed to the evil. The disaster is still fresh in the mind: and perhaps the grief will always be fresh for our generation: our heart is still troubled: and like some sea moved by the whirlwind of calamity that is overturned from its lowest depths, our thoughts still surge, seething at the mention of these evils. Since, therefore, the mind is disturbed by such a tempest, how can it be that speech should proceed on a straight course, tossed as it were by a storm of feeling of grief? But since it is necessary to obey the one commanding, I know not what kind of speech I shall use. For I cannot conceive by what conjectures I might attain the mind of the master. Or perhaps he even wishes to indulge something to the passion, and by words accommodated to rousing the feelings, to stir up tears in the assembly? And if he thinks these things, he does this rightly, in my judgment: for it is necessary indeed, just as we are eager for the enjoyment of good things, so also to accommodate ourselves to the mournful ones of the things that befall us. For this is also what Ecclesiastes advises. “There is a time,” he says, “to laugh, and a time to weep.” ^B

We learn through these things, therefore, that it is necessary to dispose the soul appropriately to the present matter. Do things proceed favorably? It is the time to rejoice: has the brightness shifted into dejection? It is fitting to change also cheerfulness into tears. For just as laughter becomes a sign of the cheerfulness lurking within, so also is the pain in the heart interpreted by lamentations, and tears become as it were the blood of the wounds of the soul. This signifies also the Proverb of Solomon, that "When the heart is glad, the face flowers; but when the soul is in sorrows, it is downcast." Thus it is absolutely necessary for the speech to be downcast along with the disposition of the heart. And would that it were possible to find some such words as those with which the great Jeremiah once lamented over the calamity of the Israelites! For the present things are more worthy of those [words] than if anything else from antiquity is remembered in mournful tales. The accounts of Job are grievous. But what need is there to compare the easily numbered sufferings of one house with this such great hardship? Truly, even if you relate great and more common evils, earthquakes, and wars, and inundations, and chasms, these too are small, if they be judged against the present. Wherefore? Because the calamity of war does not pertain to the whole world at once; but one part of it is at war, ^D while another part is at peace. What again? Either a thunderbolt has burned, or the water [has...]

^A consumed or been swallowed by the abyss. But the present evil is a wound of the entire world at once. It is not possible for one nation or one city to lament; but it is appropriate perhaps to utter the voice of Nebuchadnezzar, which he made to his subjects: "To you I say, O peoples, tribes, ^B and tongues." Nay rather, permit me to add something to the Assyrian proclamation, so that I may proclaim and divulge the calamity with a louder voice, and say, as someone shouting on the stage might say: "O cities and peoples, and nations and the whole earth, and as much of the sea as is navigable and as much as is inhabited; O all of our world that is guided by the scepter of the empire, O all you humans from everywhere, groan together at the distress, together institute the symphony of lamentation, together lament the loss of all." Or do you wish, as I am able, that I should also describe the loss to you? Human nature in our generation has brought forth, having exceeded its own boundaries and surpassed the customary limits—nature, or rather the Lord of nature—a human soul in a female body, surpassing almost all previous examples of virtue, in which every virtue of body and every virtue of soul having converged, exhibited an incredible miracle to human life: how many good things did it contain in one soul and in one body? ^C And so that the good fortune of our generation might be most evident to all, she is led up to the high throne of the empire, so that like the sun from a high dignity she might illuminate the whole world with the rays of her virtues, and having been joined to him who had been appointed by divine decree to the society of [her] life and empire over the entire world, she made the subjects blessed through her own self, being truly, as Scripture says, a helper to him for every good thing. If the occasion was for loving-kindness, either she would run with him to this good, or even run before him; the balance was equal on both sides with the inclination of loving-kindness. And the things that surpass calculation in number, both those done previously and the proclamations of the present time which we have now heard from the herald of truth, bear witness to the argument. If you seek piety, the course towards piety ^D was common to both. If [you seek] foresight, if justice, if anything else of those which are pursued for the sake of the better—everything was in a contention of those struggling against one another to see who would be surpassed in good deeds and services, and there was no one being defeated. Each had an equal grace toward the other; she had as the prize of virtue him who was appointed over the world, and he considered the authority over land and sea as small in comparison to the good fortune he had in her; they offered equal delights to each other, looking at one another and being looked upon by one another; he indeed being such as he is (for what beauty could anyone show that is beyond what is seen? And may it be that what is seen lasts even to the life of the descendants), but she, such as she was, it is not possible to point out in speech; for no image of her has been left behind through art with accuracy; but even if something has been done in paintings or in statues, all are more wanting than the truth.

Such are the accounts up to this point; but what follows? Again I am forced to cry out. And forgive me for exceeding all measure in my shouting, because of the distress. O Thrace, a name to be fled from! O wretched district, a nation distinguished by disasters! O land, once laid waste by the hostile fire of the incursions of the barbarians, but now receiving into itself the crown of the common calamity; here the good is snatched away, here envy has raged and run riot against the empire, here the shipwreck of the world has occurred, here, as if caught in a whirlwind and dashing against a crag, we have been plunged into the depths of sadness and mourning! O that baneful journey, which denied a return! O those bitter waters, whose springs I wish she had never desired! O district, in which the disaster occurred, and which, because of the disaster, received its name from dark night. ^B For I hear that in their native tongue the place is called Skotoumin—that is to say, from darkness; there the lamp was darkened, there the brightness was extinguished, there the rays of virtue were dimmed; the ornament of the empire is gone, the rudder of justice, the image of humanity, or rather its very principal form; the figure and example of marital love has been taken away, the chaste gift of continence, sobriety, and modesty, the gravity easy of approach, the approachableness and gentleness not to be despised: the high humility of soul and modesty, ingenuous shame, the common harmony of virtues: the zeal and devotion of the faith has perished, the pillar of the Church, the ornament of the altars, the wealth of the poor, the right hand sufficient for ministering to many, the common harbor of those tossed and afflicted. Let virginity mourn, let widowhood lament, let orphanage weep; let them know what they had, now that they have ceased to have it. Or indeed, what is the point of my dividing the lamentation into parts and orders? ^C Let every age groan, heaving a deep sigh from the midst of its heart: let the priesthood itself also mourn with us, since envy has pulled away our common ornament. Is it too bold to utter that saying of the Prophet, "Why, O God, hast thou cast us off forever, and hath thy wrath been kindled against the sheep of thy pasture?" For what sins are we paying the penalty? For what cause? In whose name are we afflicted and chastened with disaster upon disaster? Or is it perhaps because the impiety of various heresies abounds that this sentence has prevailed against us? For see in what evils we have been entangled in a short time. Not yet have we recovered from the former disaster, not yet have we wiped the tears from our eyes, and we have again fallen into such a great calamity. Then we lamented the tender flower, ^D now the very branch from which the flower sprouted and was born: then the hoped-for beauty, now the one that flourished: then the good that was expected, now that which...

^A came to pass. Will you forgive me, brothers, if I seem foolish and speak absurdly because of this disaster? Perhaps, as the Apostle says, even all of creation has groaned at our misfortune. And I will renew for you the memory of those things which occurred, and I suppose most of you will agree with what is said. When the empress was being carried into the city veiled in gold and purple robes (it was a litter, however, in which she was being carried), and with every rank and every age having poured out of the city—so that whatever was exposed to the open air seemed too narrow due to the multitude—and even all those excellent in dignity were following the funeral procession on foot: you remember, surely, how the sun veiled its rays with clouds, as if perhaps it should not look down with pure light upon the empress entering the city in such a state, not on some chariot or gold-bound carriage, according to royal custom, rejoicing with guards, but covered in a coffin and hiding that form under a gloomy shroud; a sight terrible and pitiable, a source of tears laid out for those who happened upon it. Every one of the gathered crowd, both the stranger and the local, received her as she entered not with cheers, but with lamentations. Then the air itself also grew gloomy in a mournful way, ^B as if clothing itself in darkness like a garment of mourning. And the clouds, too, as much as they were able, wept along, shedding soft and fine drops of rain in place of tears for the tragedy.

Are these things truly nonsense, and not even worth mentioning? For even if something of this sort has occurred in creation, such as to signify the calamity, it has not occurred entirely from creation, but from the Lord of creation, honoring the death of His saint through the things He did. "Precious," it says, "in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints." I saw, however, at that time another sight more marvelous than those mentioned. I saw a double rain: one from the air, and the other flowing down to the earth from the eyes of those who were weeping; and the rain from their eyes was not less than that which poured from the clouds. For among so many thousands of those present, there was no eye that did not water the earth with drops of tears. But perhaps we have not correctly conjectured the mind of the teacher, having dwelt longer than we should have on the gloomy things. For perhaps he wishes to heal rather than to grieve the ears; but we have now done the opposite. Just as if some physician, having received a wounded man, should not only neglect his treatment, but should also further afflict and finish off the sufferer with some caustic medicines. Therefore, the discourse must be poured like oil upon the swelling wound. For even the evangelical medicine knows how to mix oil with the astringent nature of wine. Let us, therefore, incline toward you, having taken the oil-flask from the Scripture, and as far as it is possible, having sung a palinode to the gloom of the things said, bringing forth for the consolation ^D of the things mentioned. But let no one disbelieve me in what is said, even if it be paradoxical. The good thing, brothers, which we seek, exists; it exists, and it has not perished. Rather, I have spoken something less than the truth. For not only does the good thing exist, but it is also in higher places than before. Do you seek the empress? She has her manner of life in the palaces. But with the eye

you desire to know this? it is not permitted for you to expend superfluous effort on this, to look upon the queen. Terrible about her is the guard of soldiers—not these soldiers, I say, to whom iron is a weapon, but those armed with a flaming sword, whose appearance the sight of men cannot endure; in which hidden mysteries of the kingdom is magnificence, you will then see, when you yourself also, having emerged from the body, look forth; for it is not permitted otherwise to arrive within the adyta and chambers of the kingdom, unless the veil of the flesh has been withdrawn. ^B

Do you think it more excellent to enjoy life through the flesh? Then let the divine Apostle, who was a partaker of the ineffable mysteries of paradise, instruct you. What does he say concerning this life—perhaps speaking from the common person of men? "Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?" Why does he say this? Because, he says, to be dissolved and to be with Christ is far better. And what of that great David, who flourished with such great sovereignty, who had in abundance all things that pertain to enjoyment and power? Is he not distressed by life? Does he not name this life a prison? Does he not cry out to the Lord, "Bring my soul out of prison"? Does he not feel burdened and offended by the prolongation of life? "Woe is me," he says, "that my sojourning is prolonged!" Or did the saints not know how to discern the good from the worse, and for that reason think the departure from the body more excellent for the soul? ^C

But you, what good, I pray, do you see in life? Consider the things in which life is observed. I do not bring forward for you the voice of the prophet saying, "All flesh is grass." For he rather adorns and honors the misery of nature with that likeness; for perhaps it would be better for it to be grass than what it is. Why? Because grass has no unpleasantness from nature; but our flesh is a workshop of foul odor, corrupting and rendering useless whatever it receives. And what punishment is equally heavy as being at all times subject to the ministry of the belly? For see this perpetual tax collector—I mean the belly—how great a necessity of exaction it brings each day! Even if we have paid out more at some time than was fixed and ordained, we have deducted nothing from the following debt; like animals who are worn out by labor in a mill, with our eyes covered, we go around the mill of life, always wandering through similar things and returning to the same. I will tell you this circular circuit: appetite, satiety, sleep, wakefulness, evacuation, repletion. Always these from those, and those from these, and again these; and we never cease going in this circle until we are born outside the mill. Solomon rightly calls this life a perforated jar and an alien house. For it is truly an alien house, and not our own, because it is not in our power ^D

^A or the time we desire to remain in it; but we are brought in when we know not, and we are moved out when we know not. You will understand the riddle of the jar if you look at the insatiable nature of desires. Do you see how men pour into themselves honors, powers, glories, and all such things? Yet what is poured in flows away and does not remain with the possessor; for the zeal for glory, power, and honor is always active and thriving, but the jar of desire remains unfulfilled. And what of the love of money? Is it not truly a perforated jar, leaking from the entire bottom, which, even if you were to pour the whole sea into it, has no nature capable of being filled?

What then is grievous, if this blessed woman has been separated from the evils of life, and, as if casting off the filth of the body like some rheum, the pure soul has migrated to the incorrupt life, in which deceit has no citizenship, slander is not believed, flattery has no place, falsehood is not mixed in, and pleasure and pain, fear and confidence, poverty and wealth, servitude and lordship, and every such irregularity of life is banished as far as possible from that life? ^B "Pain, and sorrow, and sighing" have fled from it, as the prophet says. And what instead of these? Immutability, blessedness, alienation from every evil, the communion of angels, the contemplation of invisible things, the participation in God, and joy that has no end. Is it then fitting to grieve for the queen, once we have learned what she has exchanged for what? She left behind an earthly kingdom, but she has attained the heavenly one; she laid aside the crown made of stones, but she has put on the crown of glory; she divested herself of the purple robe, but she has put on Christ. This is the truly royal and precious garment. I hear that the purple here is reddened by the blood of a certain sea-mussel; but the blood of Christ adds brilliance and bloom to the purple above. You have seen how great the difference and the superiority is in the garment. Do you wish to be convinced that she is in those things? Read the Gospel: "Come, you blessed of my Father" (the Judge says these things to those on the right), "inherit the kingdom prepared for you." ^C Prepared by whom? Which you yourselves, it says, prepared for yourselves through your works. How? "I was hungry, I was thirsty, I was a stranger, naked, infirm, in prison. Inasmuch as you did it to one of these least, you did it to me." If, then, the zeal for these things is the means of procuring a kingdom, count, if it is possible to count, how many were covered by the garments supplied by her! How many were fed by that great right hand! How many of those shut away were deemed worthy not only of a visit, but of complete release! But if visiting one shut away procures a kingdom, surely freeing one from punishment is worthy of a greater reward, if indeed there is anything higher than a kingdom. But the praise of her is not limited to these things. For it also passes beyond the present ^D

^A commanded deeds. How many, for her sake, have recognized in themselves that grace of the resurrection, who, according to the laws, had died, and, having received the sentence of death, were again recalled to life through her! The evidence of the things spoken is before your eyes. You saw the youth by the altar, who had despaired of his salvation. You saw the poor woman lamenting over the condemnation of her brother, he who proclaimed the good things to the Church, so that in memory of the Queen the grim sentence of death was dissolved into life. But are these things the only ones? Where shall we place that humility, which Scripture sets before every achievement of virtue? She who, sharing the rule with the great Emperor, with such great authority existing, with every power bowing down, with so many nations subject and paying tribute, with both land and sea supporting and nurturing her with their own bounties, gave no entrance to pride against herself, always looking to herself and not to her external goods; therefore she became an heir of blessedness, having obtained true height through temporary humility of soul.

I will also tell you something as an indication and argument of her love for her husband. When the bodily marriage was being dissolved, it was altogether necessary that the precious goods in which she abounded should come to a division. How, therefore, did she make the distribution? As there were three children (for these are the main heads of possessions), she left the males with their father, so that they might be the supports of his kingdom; but she decided that only the daughter should belong to her own portion. Do you see with how much sincerity, equity of mind, and indulgence she acted, in that she granted the greater part of the precious things to her husband? But that which ought especially to be said by us, with this added, I shall bring the speech to an end. Hatred of idols is common to all who are participants of the faith; but hers was special, in that she abhorred the Arian disbelief just as the worship of idols. For she thought that those who think ^C the Divine is in the creature serve and venerate nothing less than those who make idols out of matter: and she judged this rightly and piously. For he who worships the creature, even if he does this in the name of Christ, is an idolater, imposing the name of Christ upon an idol. Therefore, having learned that God is not recent and new, she worshipped one Godhead, which is glorified in the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. In this faith she grew, in this she flourished, to this she committed her spirit; by this she was led to the bosom of the father of faith, Abraham, near the fountain of paradise (the drop of which does not come to the faithless), under the shadow of the tree of life, which is planted near the watercourses, of which things may we also be found worthy in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom is the glory unto the ages. Amen.

BY THE SAME: ON THE LIFE OF SAINT GREGORY THE THAUMATURGE

ON THE LIFE OF SAINT GREGORY THE THAUMATURGE

^A Our speech has the same purpose as this present gathering of ours. For that great Gregory is the subject alike of your assembly and of my discourse. I believe that I require the same power to perform virtue in deeds as to recount those noble acts in words according to their merit. Therefore, one must invoke the same assistance by which he himself accomplished virtue throughout his life. This, in my opinion, is the grace of the Spirit, which, of itself, supplies strength both to life and to speech for those who are studious in either area. Since, therefore, that brilliant and illustrious life was made perfect through the power of the Spirit, it is a matter for prayer that such aid should come to this speech as he used throughout his life, so that the praise might not be found lagging behind the value of his achievements, but that the man might be shown to those present through this memory, as he was seen by his own contemporaries at the time of his deeds. For if the memory of those who excelled in virtue were without profit, and if it brought no assistance toward the good to those who hear it, it would perhaps be superfluous and useless to bring forward this speech for empty praise, both expending the discourse in vain and wearying the ears to no purpose. But since such a grace in speech, if rightly and properly applied, will be a common benefit to the listeners, like a beacon for those sailing upon the sea, guiding toward itself those wandering in the dark over the deep; I think that equal zeal is required for this matter from both sides: from you in listening, and from me in speaking. For it is clear that his life in virtue, shining like a beacon through this memory into our souls, becomes a path to the good for both the one who recounts it and those who hear it. For we humans are naturally inclined in some way to desire and to covet anything that is praiseworthy and honorable. The subject of these words is thus significant; as for me, it is safe from every side to approach the subject, whether to be carried along by the greatness of the deeds

or not. For the praise will be equal for the one being lauded in either case. For if the discourse reaches the level of the miracles, it will surely strike the hearing with its accomplishments; but if it should fall short of their greatness, the glory of the one being lauded is none the less made brilliant in this way too; for the most excellent praise of a man is to show that his virtue is greater than the ability of those who praise him to express it in words.

But let no one who has been instructed in divine wisdom seek, after the manner of outsiders and strangers to our faith, to praise him who is celebrated for spiritual goods with the artificial rhetorical devices of eulogies. For our judgment of what is good is not the same as that of others, nor would one find the same opinions held about the same things by those who live according to the world and those who have risen above the world. For to the former, wealth, lineage, glory, worldly powers, and the myths that establish their homelands, and—to those who even possess a modicum of reason—the things to be shunned, namely tales of trophies, battles, and the evils of wars, are seen as great and worthy of pursuit; but by our standard, one fatherland is held in honor, which is Paradise, the first seat of the human race; one city, which is the heavenly one, built and joined together through living stones, of which the artificer and creator is God; one nobility of lineage, which is the close relationship with God; this does not happen to anyone by chance or automatically, in the way of worldly nobility, which often flows down even to the wicked and the bad through this automatic succession, but which cannot be acquired otherwise than by the choice of the free will. For as many as received him, says the divine voice, to them he gave power to become children of God. What could be more noble or more splendid, more honorable or more august, than this? To all other men, their fatherlands are myths and fictions, and the deceits of demons mixed with mythical narratives; but our fatherland stands in no need of those who expound and narrate it. For if someone looks up at the heaven and the ornaments that are in it, and contemplates with the eye of the soul the entire creation, whatever miracles he manages to grasp in these things, these he will find to be the narratives of our fatherland; or rather, not of the fatherland itself, but of the colony which we, having been exiled and relegated from the higher life, have obtained as our present world. But if the colony is such, one must consider what the metropolis of this colony is, what beauty is in it, what the royal dwelling is there, what the blessedness of those who have obtained habitation there. For if those things that appear in the order of creation are of such a kind as to be beyond praise, what must one think of that which is beyond these, which it is impossible to grasp with the eye, or contain with the hearing, or conjecture with the mind? Through this spiritual eulogy, the divine praise of those being lauded distinguishes them from the trifles below, judging it shameful that those who are known by such qualities should be honored by the things that are held in esteem upon the earth.

^A For if a man is of the world, looking toward material happiness, let him glean his praise for men from such things: if his fatherland has become fertile in cattle, if a neighboring sea supplies in abundance items for the gluttonous, or if tiers of stones layered upon one another adorn buildings. But he who looks toward the life above—for whom beauty is the purity of the soul; riches, lack of possessions; fatherland, virtue; and city, the very kingdom of God—shall consider the ambition for earthly things a disgrace. Therefore, we too, departing from such forms of praise, shall neither add the fatherland to the praises of the Great Gregory, nor shall we take his ancestors to our aid in these encomia, knowing that no praise is true which does not belong to those who are praised. And we say that anything is of one’s own that remains entirely and perpetually inseparable.

^B Since, therefore, when everything is taken from us—wealth, fame, glory, honor, luxury, enjoyment, kinsmen, and friends—we remain inseparable from that single disposition within us, whether it be toward vice or virtue, we deem only the virtuous man to be blessed. And let no one think that, because I have nothing majestic to report regarding the fatherland or the ancestors of the man, I am, under the appearance of contempt for such things, merely trying to conceal and steal away their shame. For who does not know the surname of the Pontus, which has been assigned by all men as a peculiar exception to the nation, through which the virtue of those who originally obtained the region is witnessed? For this Pontus alone out of all the earth and sea is called "Euxine" [Hospitable], whether because the name testifies to the friendliness toward the strangers who reside there, or because the nature of the region is such that it provides an abundance of the necessities of life not only to the natives and local inhabitants, but also to those from everywhere who visit it. For such is the nature of the land, being fruitful in all things necessary for life, and lacking none of the goods found elsewhere, as the sea makes for them the goods from every place their own. ^D And since the whole nation is of such a character that whichever part of it one might consider by itself, one would think it excels the others, nevertheless, by the common judgment of the people, the city of the great Gregory is, as it were, a head for all the surrounding regions, which city a certain illustrious king of those holding authority over the Romans—Caesar by name—conquered by love and desire for the region, and deemed it worthy to be called Neocaesarea after his own name. But none of these things is relevant to our purpose, such that we should think to demonstrate the one great among the saints as more venerable through them—if the land abounds in fruits, if the city is adorned with structures, if by the neighboring sea it imports whatever it wishes from everywhere at will.

^A Indeed, I will not even make mention of his ancestors, those who led the way for his birth according to the flesh, by recounting their wealth, their honors, and their worldly splendors. For what could these things contribute to his praise—tombs, and pillars, and inscriptions, and dead narratives—to one who had exalted and raised himself above the entire world? Moreover, it is not even possible to bring into the fellowship of his glorification those whose kinship according to the soul he rejected and spurned. For they were rendered vain in the error of idols; but he, having lifted his eyes to the truth, gave himself over through faith to the higher kinship and, as it were, gave himself into adoption.

^B Accordingly, we shall pass over the manner in which, or from what parents he was born, or what city he inhabited from the beginning, as things that contribute nothing to our proposed narrative; but we shall take as the beginning of his praise that which he made the start of his life lived in virtue. For since, while still in a very youthful body, he was destitute of natural care, his parents having departed this life—at a time when, for most people, the mind in its incomplete age does not know how to judge what is good—he showed immediately from the start what he would be in the fullness of his age. And just as noble plants, when from their first growth they shoot up into straight branches, show to the husbandmen by their present beauty the beauty that is to be hereafter; in the same way he, too, when for others the soul, through ignorance, is subject to errors and slippery, easily sliding for the most part into the vain and useless things of youth, ^C at that time, through his initial choice of life, showed that the word of David was true in him, saying: *The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree* (Ps. xci, 13). For this, alone among trees, rises from the earth with the perfect thickness of its crown, and as it proceeds in its growth in length, it receives no addition to its breadth from time. Thus, too, he flourished from his first sprouting, being perfect from the very start through the choice of his life, rising up and growing with lofty boughs. For having left behind all the things by which the youthful age is captivated—horsemanship, hunting, cultivation of appearance, clothing, gambling, and pleasures—he was immediately and entirely intent upon the acquisition of virtues, subsequently choosing and pursuing whatever was always convenient and appropriate to his present age. ^D The beginning of his acquisition of virtues, however, was his study of wisdom. And following this, as a colt yoked alongside, was temperance; and as a helper to both was continence. But his humility and moderation of spirit were achieved together with his contempt for wealth. For there is no other source of pride and haughtiness that does not bring such passions along with itself through greed. And just as the father

^A of our race, Abraham, is held by the record to have attained knowledge of the Chaldean philosophy, and to have observed the harmonious and orderly position and motion of the stars, and to have used this knowledge as a base for the contemplation of the Good that lies beyond, reasoning that if things perceivable by the senses were such as these, what then must those things be that are beyond sense? And thus he attained what he sought, as if mounting upon the wisdom of the outside world, and by it becoming higher, so as to approach in a way, through it, those things which are beyond apprehension: so too this Great man, by diligently conversing with outside philosophy—through which the Hellenic world is established for the many—was guided through these things toward the understanding of Christianity. And having abandoned the misguided religion of his fathers, he sought the truth of things as they are, having been taught by the very labors of those outside that the Hellenic dogmas are inconsistent. ^B For because he saw the Hellenic and barbarian philosophy alike split into different views in their doctrines concerning the Divine, and those who stood at the head of these dogmas neither agreeing with one another, and each one contending to strengthen his own position by the subtlety of his arguments: these he left behind, as if they were destroying one another in a civil war. He grasped instead the settled word of the faith, which is not strengthened by any logical curiosity or technical entanglements, but is proclaimed to all alike through the simplicity of its words; which, in the very fact that it is above faith, possesses the power to create faith. For if the thing spoken of were such as to be grasped by the power of human reasoning, it would differ in nothing from Hellenic wisdom (for they, too, believe that what they are able to grasp is what truly is). But since the apprehension of the nature that lies beyond is inaccessible to human reasoning, for this reason faith takes the place of reasoning, extending itself toward those things that are beyond word and apprehension. For these reasons, just as the Scripture says regarding Moses that he was instructed in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, so too this Great man, having passed through the whole of the Hellenic training, and having known by experience the weakness and inconsistency of the dogmas among them, becomes a disciple of the Gospel; and before being born through the mystical and immaterial birth, he so ordered his life as to bring no stain of sin to the laver. ^C And his conduct being in Egypt, in the great city of Alexandria, into which the youth from everywhere who had studied philosophy and medicine were streaming together, it was a harsh sight for those of his own age, a young man adorned with a self-control beyond his years. For the praise of one who is pure was the reproach of those who were defiled. So, as if to be an apology for the profligate, that they might not appear to be such alone, a certain scheme was prepared by them out of malice, in order to smear some stain upon the life of the Great man. And there is brought forward by them, for his defamation, a certain harlot woman, from an establishment ^D

^B of those condemned to infamy. And, as was their custom with the men gathered in solemn appearance to examine and practice some point of philosophy, the woman approaches, mincing and posturing, and by all her speech and actions, she feigns that she is in a relationship with him. Then she would say that she was being cheated of her wages, adding in her impudence the reasons for which she complained that she was being cheated of her wages. But those who knew of his pure life were indignant and were moved with anger against the woman; yet he was neither disturbed by those who were angered on his behalf, nor, being slandered, did he say anything of the sort that it is natural for one who is taking the matter heavily to say. He did not summon witnesses to his life, he did not ward off the shame with an oath, he did not expose the malice of those who had plotted these things against him, but with a quiet and composed voice, turning to one of his acquaintances, he said, “Ho, you, pay her the money, so that she does not disturb the study of the question before us by troubling us any longer.” But when he who was charged with this asked the harlot how much money she demanded of him, and [the man] had counted it all out without delay: and when the snares of the wanton and forward against the sober and continent man had been completed and the infamous gain was now in her hands, then ^C indeed did divine intervention attest to the youth’s continence and expose the slanders of his peers. For as soon as she received the money in her hand, being seized by an unhappy and malignant spirit, and groaning with a bestial roaring unlike any human voice, she fell prone into the midst of those assembled—a sight horrific and terrifying to those present, as she suddenly became all disheveled, her hair being torn out by her own hands, her eyes rolled back, and her mouth sputtering foam. And the demon did not cease choking her until that Great man had called upon God for her and sought His favor.

Such are the stories of the youth of that great man, the beginnings, indeed, worthy of his subsequent life. And truly, the miracle is so great that, even if it were permitted to produce no other than this alone, he would have to hold the second place of praise from none of those who have excelled in virtue; being wealthy, young, living abroad beyond the borders of his fatherland in a populous city, in which, because the youth were indulging in pleasures at their own will and whim, the purity of a life of self-control ^D was considered a disgrace by the foolish—not because a mother…

^A sought curiously into his life, nor because a father moderated his daily living, but because he strained toward such virtue by separating himself from vices and passions that he made the Overseer of all things, who through a grievous blow exposed and convicted the sycophancy of the woman, the witness of his own life. And what greater subject for praise could one devise? How could one admire him as he deserves, he who, having by reason conquered nature, and having brought his youth under the yoke of reason like some tame animal, and having become superior to all the natural passions that rise up, and having stirred up against himself the envy that is accustomed to invade all noble things, was superior even to this, inasmuch as he was neither moved to punish the plots of his companions, nor did he fail to confer a benefit upon her who had worked to bring reproach upon them, by delivering her through prayer from the passion of the demon? Such a one we have known through history to be Joseph, to whom it was possible to commit the crime with his master’s wife at his own will, since she herself was seized with an insane love for the beauty of the youth, and no man was there to witness what was daringly done; yet he, looking toward the divine eye, chose to seem a criminal rather than to become one, undergoing the sufferings of evildoers ^B rather than becoming an evildoer. But perhaps there is something in this case more than in that history about which to boast; for it is not an equal matter to turn aside from a defilement, whether it be the pollution of adultery or that which appears to have reproach in a lesser transgression. Therefore, since he judged that the pleasure of sin itself was far more to be feared than the punishment, in a case where there was no danger or fear from the laws, he either surpassed and exceeded Joseph in the greatness and magnificence of his wonder, or he will certainly not be considered among the second-best. And such, indeed, is the beginning of his life. But what of his life itself? After he had run through all the disciplines of secular wisdom, he encountered a certain Firmilian, a nobleman of Cappadocia, of a similar character and disposition, as he showed in his subsequent life, having become an ornament of the Church of the Caesareans. And when he had made clear to his friend the intent of his resolve and his purpose in life, namely, that it was directed toward God, and had understood that his [Firmilian's] zeal concurred with the same desire, he abandoned all study of secular philosophy and approached, together with him, the one who at that time was the leader of the philosophy of the Christians (this was Origen, whose fame is celebrated ^C on account of his writings), showing also by this not only his love of learning and his industry, but also the composed and moderate nature of his character. For since he was filled with such great wisdom, he did not disdain to use another as a teacher for divine studies, and having spent a time proportionate to the studies with the teacher, although there were many who were inviting him and keeping him there in a foreign land and wishing him to remain with them, he preferred his own motherland to all others and returned home, bringing with him the manifold wealth of wisdom and knowledge, which, like some ^D

^A merchant who has conversed with all those illustrious and eminent in the studies of external learning, he acquired and imported.

And indeed, if one evaluates matters truly and justly, it will not appear to have little significance for the commendation of his name that he turned away from the petitions made by the common consent of so great a city, and that he did not highly value the zeal ^B of all the wise and chosen men in it, who were striving that he might remain, nor the noble desire of the leading men residing therein who longed for this very thing to come to pass. For these all had one purpose: that that great man should remain with them, to be as it were the founder of virtue and the lawgiver of life. But he, avoiding by all means the material for pride—since he was not unaware that the vice of pride is wont to provide the cause and occasion for a depraved and wicked life—entered upon a quiet life in his homeland as if into a harbor. ^C When, however, the whole nation looked to the man, and all expected that, by making his learning public in common assemblies, he would reap some fruit from his long labors—namely, the fame and renown of his name gained from them—that great one, not being ignorant of the things by which true philosophy is appropriately published and disseminated by those who truly and perfectly pursue it, lest his mind ever be wounded by some ambition (for the praise of auditors has great power to unbend the intensity of the soul through a certain pride and love of glory), for this reason ^D uses silence as a proof and demonstration of his learning, showing the treasure stored within by deed, not by word. Having completely separated himself from the noises of the forum and from life in the city, he lived by himself in a certain solitude, and through himself [he lived] with God, taking little thought for the entire world and the things of the world; not inquisitively inquiring about kings, not examining magistrates, not hearing from anyone recollecting how any public business was being administered, but concerned only that his soul might be perfected through virtue, he strove and labored with all zeal toward this throughout his whole life; and in bidding farewell to every worldly age and worldly affairs, he was truly a second Moses in our times, who contended with the miracles of that first one. Both went out from this turbulent age, which echoes with noise and clamor—Moses and Gregory—each living in his own time privately by himself, until the reward of a pure life was manifested to both by divine revelation and appearance. But indeed, with Moses, a wife accompanied him along with his philosophy; Gregory, however, took only virtue as a spouse to himself. Since, therefore, the goal was the same in both (for the end of the withdrawal of both from the multitude was this, to be able with the pure eye of the soul to contemplate the divine mysteries), it is permitted to him who knows how to look well upon virtue to judge which of these two led a life more through passionlessness—he who descended to the lawful and permitted participation in pleasures, or he who rose above them and gave the material passion no passage against himself. Now, at that time, the illustrious Church of the Amaseans

^A had a prelate to whom there was, by divine grace from the Holy Spirit, a certain power of foresight; and he was applying all his zeal, that he might take the great Gregory into his hand and lead him to the primacy of the Church, so that such a great good might not run through his life idle and unprofitable. Realizing the intent of this priest, he [Gregory] contrived to escape notice, moving from one solitude to another. But when that great man Phædimus had exhausted every attempt, and using every device and ingenuity, was still unable to bring the man to the priesthood—as he was on his guard with myriad eyes against being caught by the hand of the priest—there was a rivalry of zeal in both of them: the one desiring to catch, the other to escape his pursuer (for the former knew that he was about to offer a holy offering to God, while the latter feared lest the care of the priesthood become an obstacle to his philosophy, as a kind of burden laid upon his life). Because of this, Phædimus, lifted up by a certain more divine impulse toward the task before him, took no account of the intervening distance which separated him from Gregory (for he was three days' journey away), but looking up to God, and saying that both he himself and the other were in that very hour beheld by God, he applied the word to Gregory instead of his hand, consecrating to God him who was not corporeally present, and assigning to him that city which had happened, until those times, to be so held captive by the error of idols that, while there were infinite numbers of those inhabiting the city itself and its surroundings, no more than seventeen were found who had received the word of the faith ^B.

So, therefore, compelled to take up the yoke ^C, and after all the legal rites had been performed upon him, and having requested a short time from him who had proclaimed him to the priesthood for the understanding of the accuracy concerning the mystery, he no longer thought it necessary, as the Apostle ^D says, to confer with flesh and blood, but requested that the manifestation of the hidden things be made to him from God; and he did not dare to begin the preaching of the Word before the truth was revealed to him through some apparition. For as he was once thinking through the night concerning the word of the faith, and stirring up all sorts of reasonings—for there were, indeed, even then some who were corrupting the pious doctrine by the persuasiveness of their arguments, often making the truth doubtful even to the prudent—as he was keeping watch and concerning himself for its sake, there appeared to him, as it were in a waking state, someone in human form, elderly in appearance, reverent in the composition of his garment, marking out great virtue by the [clothing] around…

^A his face and the composure of his demeanor. He, being struck with awe at the sight, needed to rise from his bed and learn who he was and for what reason he had come. But when that one had calmed the disturbance of his mind with a quiet voice, and had said that he had appeared by divine command for his sake, so that the truth of the pious faith might be revealed—for the sake of the points of dispute—he was encouraged by what he heard, and with a kind of joy and consternation looked upon him. Then, when that [figure] stretched out his hand straight ahead, and as if showing him by the extension of his fingers what appeared from the side, he [Gregory] turned his gaze along the straight line of the hand and saw ^B another spectacle opposite the one who had appeared, in a female form, more excellent and august than is common to human nature. Again he was struck with awe, and bowed his head, being perplexed by the sight, not able to bear the radiance with his eyes (for the wonder of the vision consisted especially in this, that although it was the dead of night, a light shone out together with those who appeared to him, as if some bright torch had been kindled). Since, therefore, he could not bear that radiance with his eyes, he heard the discourse of those who appeared to him as they spoke to one another about the matter in question; through which he not only received the true knowledge of the faith, but also recognized those who had appeared, as each of them addressed the other by his own name. For it is said that he heard the one who appeared in the female form exhorting the evangelist John to reveal to the young man the mystery of true piety; and that he replied that he was ready to grant this favor to the Mother of the Lord, since this was dear to her. And having thus spoken the word, measured ^C and well-defined, he vanished from his sight. He immediately committed that divine instruction and discipline to writing, and according to it afterwards preached the word in the church, and left to posterity, as a kind of inheritance and legacy, that divinely given doctrine by which the people of that city are instructed to this day, having remained untouched by all heretical malice. Now, the words of that mystical discipline are these:

One God, Father of the living Word, of subsistent wisdom and power and eternal image, the perfect begetter of the perfect: Father of the only-begotten Son. One Lord, alone from alone, God from God, the image and likeness of the deity, the efficient Word, the wisdom comprehensive of the constitution of all things, and the power formative ^D of the whole creation, true Son of a true Father, invisible of the invisible, and incorruptible of the incorruptible, and immortal of the immortal, and eternal of the eternal. And one Holy Spirit, having his existence from God and appearing through the Son, namely to men, the perfect image of the perfect Son, life

cause, the holy fountain, the sanctity that supplies sanctification: through whom God the Father is manifested, who is over all and in all; and God the Son, who pervades through all: a perfect Trinity, not divided or alienated by glory, eternity, and kingdom.

Therefore, there is nothing created or servile in the Trinity, nor anything added, as if it did not exist before and were introduced later. Nor does the Son ever fail the Father, nor the Spirit the Son; but the same Trinity is always unchangeable and unalterable. And if anyone wishes to be convinced of this, let him listen to the Church, in which he preached the word, and among whom those very characters of that blessed hand are still preserved even now. Do not these compete with those divine tablets in the greatness of grace? I mean those tablets on which the legislation of the divine will was impressed and inscribed. For as the Scripture says of Moses, that having passed beyond that which is visible and having arrived in soul within the invisible sanctuaries (for the darkness signifies this), he both learned the divine mysteries and, through himself, became the guide to the knowledge of God for the whole people; one may discern the same dispensation in this great man, for whom the mountain was not any hill perceived by the senses, but the height of desire for true doctrines and opinions: and in place of the darkness, the vision of what had appeared to him, which had sufficiently strengthened his soul (for others are not capable of seeing it); and in place of the tablets, his soul; and in place of the letters inscribed on the tablets, the voice which appeared to him, through all of which there came to him, and to those who were being initiated in sacred things by him, the manifestation and declaration of the mysteries. Since, therefore, he had become full of a certain boldness and confidence through that vision, just as an athlete who has acquired sufficient experience and strength for the contests from a trainer, throws off his garments and prepares for the stadium with confidence, and struggles against his opponents, in the same way he also, having sufficiently anointed his soul with his own practice and the aid of the grace that had appeared to him, thus takes up the struggles. For one should call nothing else but struggles and contests his entire life in the priesthood, in which he overcame and defeated the entire power of the adversary through faith. For immediately upon rousing himself from the wilderness and directing his course to the city in which he had to establish the Church for God; when he learned that the whole region was held fast by the deception of demons, and that a temple to the true God was nowhere built, but that the entire city and the surrounding area were filled with sacred altars and shrines, and that the whole nation had this as its zeal, that the precincts of the idols and the holy places might be adorned, and that idol-mania might remain for the people, strengthened by processions and rites and pollutions at the altars—just as a brave soldier engages with the one who controls the battle line, and through him turns the forces subject to him—in this way also this great man begins his prowess from the demons themselves. And what is the manner of it? For as he was traveling the road from the wilderness to the city, evening having overtaken him, and a rather violent rainstorm holding him back,

^A he entered a certain temple along with his companions. That temple was a famous one, in which the demons being worshiped were accustomed to appear clearly to the temple attendants, some divinatory oracular power being exercised by them. ^B Having entered the temple with those who were with him, he terrified the demons immediately by the invocation of the name of Christ; and having purified the air, which was polluted with sacrificial odors, by the sign of the cross and having cleansed it, as he was accustomed to do, he spent the whole night keeping watch in prayers and the singing of hymns, so that that place, which had been befouled by the filth of the altar and by the idols and was hateful and abominable, was transformed into a house of prayer. Having spent the night in this manner, around daybreak he was again preparing to continue his journey.

But when the priest in the morning was offering the customary service to the demons, the demons are said to have appeared to him and told him that the temple was no longer accessible to them because of him who had stayed there; and that he, using cleansings and expiatory sacrifices and offerings, was attempting through these to invite the demons to return to the temple. But as he made every attempt and his effort was vain and ineffectual, the demons in no way obeying his invocation as they had been accustomed to do, ^C then the temple attendant, having risen up in wrath and indignation, pursued that great man, threatening the most terrible things against him—that he would report him to the magistrates, and would use force against him, and would declare to the emperor his audacity, in that, being a Christian and an enemy to the gods, he had dared to enter the sanctum, the approach to which the power that worked in those sacred rites had turned away from, and the prophetic-like efficacy of the demons no longer dwelt in those places as it had been accustomed to do.

But when he, with a lofty spirit, had disregarded the unrestrained and ignorant fury of the temple attendant, and in opposition to all the threats had set before him the aid of the true God, and said that he had such great confidence in the virtue and power of his own protector that he could at will both drive them away from wherever he wished, and introduce them into whatever places he saw fit, and promised that he would provide demonstrations of the things he said immediately—the priest, astonished and marveling at the magnitude of his power, is said to have requested that he might make the beginning of this demonstration of power from these very things, and invite and introduce the demons into the temple again. Having heard this, the great man is said to have torn off a small scrap from his book, and having inscribed a certain authoritative voice against the demons upon it, to have given it to the priest; the words of the letter were these: GREGORY TO SATAN, ENTER. And the priest is said to have taken this note and laid it upon the altar, and then, having offered the customary odors to them

and the pollution, to have seen once again what he had been accustomed to see before the demons were cast out of the idol-temple. ^A When these things had taken place, he began to think that some divine power was with Gregory, by which he appeared stronger than the demons. And having hastened after him again, before he arrived in the city, he requested to learn from him the mystery, and who that God was who had the nature of the demons subject to Him. And when the great man had briefly explained the mystery of piety, it is said that something happened to the priest such as was natural to happen to one who had not been initiated into divine things: that he thought it beneath the dignity of what it is fitting to conceive of God to believe that the Divine had appeared to men through flesh. ^B And when the other replied that the faith of this matter is not confirmed by words and arguments, but possesses the power of producing faith through the wonders which take place, it is said that the priest asked of him that he might be permitted to see some miracle from him, so that by the very thing which took place he might be led to the assent and approval of the faith. There, indeed, it is said that the great man performed that great miracle which is of all things the most incredible to relate. For the priest having requested that one of the huge stones which were visible before his eyes should, without human hand, be moved by the power of faith alone and, at the command of Gregory, be transferred to another place, that great man, without any delay, immediately commanded the stone as if it were animate to move to that place which the priest had indicated. ^C And when this had come to pass, the man immediately believed the word, and having abandoned everything—kindred, home, wife, children, friends, priesthood, hearth, possessions—instead of all the things he possessed, he made it his aim to be with the great one, and to share in his labors and in that divine philosophy and instruction. Let all the artificial contrivance of writers fall silent regarding these things, which through some rhetoric elevates and exaggerates the greatness of wonders toward something larger. For in the things which have been related, the wonder is not such that it could, by the power of the speaker, become smaller or larger than itself. For what could anyone say in addition to what has been said, or what addition could he give to the wonder? Or how could anyone diminish the astonishment of the hearers regarding what was done? A stone draws those who were enslaved to stones away from stones; a stone becomes a herald of the divine faith and a guide to the unfaithful ^D unto salvation, not proclaiming and declaring the divine power by any voice or word, but by its own action showing forth the God who was heralded by Gregory: to whom all creation is equally subject and obedient, not only that which is endowed with sense and breathes and is animate, but even if there is anything outside of these, it receives the command of the servant as though it were not devoid of sense. For what hearing has a stone? What sense of the power of the one commanding?

^A For if the power of the servant is so great that by a word it moves things immovable, and uses command against things devoid of sense, and gives orders to inanimate objects, how vast is the power one must conceive of as belonging to the Master of all—whose will, like some raw material, and fashioning, and power, became the very world itself, and all things in it, and the things above it! From this, that great man, having begun his victory against the demons, and leading about the shrine-keeper as a kind of trophy over the defeated, and having already struck the nation with astonishment by his reputation, thus entered the city with confidence and boldness, not boasting with chariots and horses and mules and a multitude of followers, but encircled on all sides by virtues. ^B For as all the inhabitants of the city poured out in a crowd as if for some novel spectacle, and all were eager to see who this Gregory was, who, although a man, held the beings they considered gods under his power like a king, ordering and leading the demons wherever he willed, and evicting and introducing them as he saw fit, just as if they were slaves, and having even brought that minister along, enslaved as it were by his authority while he himself scorned the honor formerly his and exchanged his accustomed life for everything he had possessed in terms of property and wealth.

With such a mindset and opinion, therefore, when the people were expecting him before the city and, when he arrived among them, all were watching him with intent eyes, he passed by the men like some inanimate wood, turning to none of those who met him, but walking straight toward the city, ^C which brought them to even greater astonishment and wonder, as he appeared to those watching to surpass his reputation. For that he, entering a great city for the first time, when nothing of the kind had been familiar to him before, should not be struck with awe at such a multitude of people gathered for his sake, but should walk as if through a desert, looking only to himself and the road, turning to none of those gathered around him—this seemed to the people to be even greater than the miracle wrought in the moving of the stone. ^D For this reason, although there were very few, as has been mentioned in what went before, who had received the faith before his administration, he entered the city thronged on all sides by those accompanying him, as if the whole city were honoring his priesthood. But since, immediately upon taking up philosophy, he had unburdened himself of all things as if of a weight, and nothing remained to him of the things necessary for this life, neither land, nor property, nor house—but he himself was everything to himself, or rather, virtue and faith were his fatherland, and hearth, and wealth—as he was already inside the city, and the house

for resting was nowhere to be found, neither a church nor his own, while those around him were troubled and perplexed as to how he might be lodged and at whose house he might find shelter. "What is this," ^A says the teacher to them, "that you are perplexed as if you were outside the protection of God, not knowing where one must rest the body? Does God seem to you a small house, if indeed in him we live and move and have our being? Or are you straitened by the heavenly shelter, and do you seek another lodging besides this? Let every man's own house be the one built through virtues and raised on high, which you should be concerned about. Let this alone trouble you, lest such a dwelling be unready for us; for terrestrial walls bring no profit to those living in virtue. Rather, one might reasonably say that the need for walls is sought after by those defiled by wickedness, because the house often becomes a cloak for hidden shames. But for those whose life is spent in virtue, there are no walls to cover them."

While he was saying these things to those who understood his words, a certain man of distinction, ^B illustrious in lineage, wealth, and other power—Musonius was the man's name—having seen that many were eager with the same diligence, wishing to receive the man into their own houses, outstripped the others and snatched away the favor, beseeching the great man to be his guest and to honor his house with his entry, so that it might become more venerable and famous in the life that followed, as time transmitted to posterity the memory of such an honor. And when many others also ran together and pleaded for the same thing, he judged it fair to grant the favor to him who had been the first to propose it, and having greeted the others kindly and honored them with courteous words, he departed to the one who had preceded them.

If this narrative of the things done by him is artless and contains nothing beyond a plain account of events—because our discourse has deliberately omitted those amplifications and exaggerations which are usually added to matters by clever contrivance—this too would be, to those who judge matters with correct judgment, ^C no slight testimony and argument that the miracles of the man whose memory we celebrate are in no way exaggerated by contrivance, but that the memory of his deeds is sufficient for the most perfect praise, like a natural beauty upon a face, which flourishes without any superfluous care from the art of cosmetics.

Now, though those who had heard the sermon before were few in number, before the day had passed and the sun had set, so many had come together at that meeting that the multitude of those who had believed was sufficient to constitute a people. At dawn, again the crowd was at the doors: men, women, and children, the elderly, and those who had, from demons or some other affliction, bodily suffering. And in the midst of them, he, according to the need ^D of each of those gathered, suitably…

^A distributed himself through the power of the Spirit, preaching, examining, admonishing, teaching, and healing. For it was by this, indeed, that he drew most people to his preaching, because what they saw corresponded with what they heard, and through both, the signs and proofs of divine power shone forth in him. For his discourse held their ears in thrall, and the miracles performed upon the infirm held their eyes in wonder and astonishment. The mourner was comforted; the young man and adolescent were chastised and corrected, and learned modesty; the elderly were healed with discourses appropriate to their age. Servants were admonished to be faithful to their masters; those having authority over others, to show humanity toward their subjects. The poor man was taught that virtue is the sole wealth, the acquisition of which is open to all as a matter of right. He who abounded in wealth was admonished in a manner appropriate to him, being taught to be an administrator and steward of his possessions, not their lord. By distributing to women what was suitable, to children what was fit and useful, and to fathers what was becoming, and by becoming all things to all men, and taking the place of everyone, he immediately joined the people to himself by the cooperation of the Spirit, so that they set their minds to the construction of a temple, all supporting his zeal with their ^B money and their labors. This is the temple which is shown to this day, which that great man, having undertaken it immediately, established and fashioned at the beginning as a kind of foundation and base for his own priesthood, completing the work with a certain divine effort and heavenly aid, as has been proven by the testimony of subsequent time. For when a most violent earthquake occurred in the city in our own times, and almost everything had perished completely, and all buildings, both public and private, had collapsed, been scattered, and left desolate, that temple alone remained unharmed and unshaken; so that even by this it is made manifest with what force and power that great man took hold of and undertook his affairs.

But these things were manifested by divine power many years later as a testimony to the faith of that great man. At that time, however, when all, both the inhabitants of that city ^C and those in the vicinity, were astonished by the apostolic miracles, and had come to believe that whatever was said or done by him was being said and done by divine power, they did not think that any other judgment was more valid, firm, or of greater authority for them—not even in secular and temporal disputes—but every question and debate, and every intricate and difficult knot of business, was resolved and decided by his counsels and admonitions. Whence, by his grace, there was equity and the rightful constitution of law, as well as peace, both for the community in common and for individuals, and a great increase of goods both publicly and privately, with no malice or fraud diminishing their mutual concord. Perhaps, however, it would not be untimely to make mention of one of his judicial decisions, so that, according to the proverb, the whole fabric may be made manifest to us from ^D the mere fringe. For the divine Scripture, having judged many of Solomon’s decisions for his subjects

is satisfied to represent the whole wisdom of the man by a single instance, so that, according to the proverb, the whole cloth and weave may be known from the fringe. For although Solomon had settled many controversies of his subjects by his decrees and delivered sentences, Divine Scripture thought it sufficient to demonstrate all that man's prudence by only one of his decrees. ^B When he was acting as judge between two women, since the wrong could not be proven or convicted, as each of them equally rejected the dead infant but claimed the living one, he resolved to investigate the hidden truth by a certain clever and cunning device. Since the injustice and wickedness lacked witnesses, and there was an equal suspicion of both falsehood and truth on both sides, he summoned nature to himself as a witness of the truth, concealing his purpose and intention through simulated and feigned threats. For by having ordered, purportedly, that the body of both the living and the dead child should be cut in half by the sword and the halves of the children assigned equally to both, he delivered the judgment of the matter to the nature of the truth. For as the one readily accepted what was commanded and urged on the executioner, while the other, moved by maternal affections, confessed herself defeated, begging that the child be spared (for she said she would be grateful if the infant were saved in any way), the king, making this the criterion of truth, granted the victorious verdict to her who voluntarily yielded, considering that she who did not care about the slaughter of the child was accused by nature of not being the mother of him whose death she urged. ^C What judgment, therefore, shall we recount of the great Gregory? Two brothers, young in age, who had recently divided their paternal inheritance among themselves, laid claim to a single lake, each contending to have the whole, and neither would admit the other into partnership of the property. The master, therefore, is made the arbiter of the suit. Having arrived at the place, he employed his own laws for the arbitration, leading them to reconciliation and exhorting the youths to settle through friendship and to value the profit of peace more than what they might take from the yield. For peace remains forever for both the living and the dead, whereas the enjoyment of revenues is temporary, but there is an eternal condemnation for injustice; and whatever else it was appropriate for him to say while restraining and checking the insolence and immoderate greed of youth. ^D But after the exhortation was ineffective, and the youth was seething and inflamed and, swelling with the hope of profit, was burning with greater anger, and an army on each side was being prepared from their subordinates, and a hand eager for slaughter was being arrayed, using fury and youth as leaders, and the time for the conflict was set: on the day before that on which the battle was to be joined by both sides, the man of God, having remained at the banks of the lake and having kept vigil through the night, performed a certain Mosaic miracle upon the water; not by the striking of a rod did he divide the deep into two parts, but by prayer he [caused] all of it at once to

^A restored the lake, at dawn, to the dry land—arid and devoid of moisture, so that in the hollows themselves it did not retain even a trace of the water which, before the prayer was offered, had surged like a sea. And he, having rendered this decision by divine power, went back to his own home; but for the young men, the decision achieved through his deeds dissolved their quarrel. For since there was no [cause] for which they were preparing war against one another, peace succeeded rage, and nature once again recognized itself in the brothers. And even now it is possible to see clear signs of that divine decision. For all around that place, which was once a lake, traces of the water's flooding and inundation still exist even today. But whatever was then submerged and at the bottom of the water has entirely been transformed into groves, dwellings, meadows, and arable land. I am of the opinion that not even that famous Solomon himself would dispute that this judgment holds the primacy. For what [act] has so much moment for virtue—to have saved one nursing infant at the breasts of two women, both of whom contended that they were its mother, and for whom it made absolutely no difference for its safety whether it obtained nourishment from its mother or from the other—as to have granted salvation to two young men who, having now advanced to the business of the world, in the vigor of youth and at the very flower of their age, were incited by anger to mutual slaughter? Having armed their hands for the destruction of one another, they were about ^B to present a bitter spectacle to the people of that time a moment later, in which there was danger that either both would be destroyed by mutual slaughter, or that one would completely pollute himself with the stain of fratricide. And this is to say nothing of those who, together with each of these two, stood in ranks with equal fury, whose endeavors against one another aimed at one thing alone: the death of their opponents. He, therefore, who by his prayer already annulled the death sentence passed against them by the counsel of that evil magistrate, and reconciled nature to itself, and converted the zeal for slaughter into peaceful joy—how much more deservedly should he be admired for the name of his judgment and decree than he who detected the fraud of the harlot? For as for the miracle performed upon the water—by what method that which was navigable was suddenly changed into uncultivated land, and the lake was reduced to a low-lying plain; likewise, in what manner that which was formerly a sea for that place has now been reduced to the point of producing fruit—I think it is wiser to remain silent about this and pass over it in silence than to pursue it with a discourse that cannot raise itself to the dignity and breadth of the matter being recounted. For what do we know of similar things in those miracles which have been committed to writing and recorded, which could become equal to this one by comparison? Joshua, the son of Nun, halted the course of the Jordan river; but it was only as long as the ark was in the water. Once the people had crossed and the ark had passed over, it restored the river to its accustomed course. In the Red Sea, the bottom [the area] lying deep beneath the water is laid bare, the sea having been thrust aside to both sides ^C by the spirit; but the miracle lasted only as long as the army, which was going through the deep on dry land,

^A became a deep. After this, however, the surface of the water became one again; and that which had been divided for a little while was joined together. But in this case, what happened once remained as it had become, so that the miracle is not disbelieved due to the passage of time, being attested to forever by the things that are seen. The accounts and demonstrations regarding the lake are of this nature.

Another miracle later than this is shown by him and remembered. A certain river flows through their region, which by its very name signifies the roughness and wildness of its current: for it is called Lycus [Wolf] by those dwelling near it, because it is harmful. So great is it that it is brought down from the springs of Armenia, the land supplying it with a copious stream through the mountains hanging above it. Everywhere deep, and flowing beneath the roots of the cliffs and precipitous rocks with a sunken bed, it becomes much more rugged owing to the winter ravines, receiving into itself all the confluences from the mountains. But in the flat, open, and level part of the country through which it passes, being frequently confined by banks on either side, it would in a certain place overflow its shore, inundating everything on the side with its current; so that dangers were brought upon those living in the place [continually and unexpectedly], the river often invading the fields at dead of night or even by day. ^B Whence not only plants and seeds and cattle were destroyed by the force of the waters, but the danger even reached the inhabitants themselves, who were unexpectedly shipwrecked in their own houses by the flooding of the water.

When, therefore, the miracles previously performed by the great man had spread throughout the whole nation, those who dwelt by that part of the river rose up—men and women and children, the whole populace—and became suppliants to the great man, begging him to provide them some unexpected remedy for their evils. For they said that God could do everything in him, whatever was impossible to human devices and reasonings. For they claimed that nothing that came within the scope of human counsel and power had been left undone by them; they had built with stones and embankments, and whatever else is accustomed to be devised for such evils, they had done everything, and yet had been unable to withstand the rush of the evil. ^C And so that he might be moved to compassion by them, they begged him to be an eyewitness of the calamity, and to learn that they were unable to move their dwelling, and that death always lay in wait for them at the surge of the water.

When, therefore, he had come to the place (for no lethargy or idleness stood in the way of his zeal for the good)—and he had not used any vehicle, or horses, or anything else by which he might be conveyed, but leaning on a staff, he traversed the whole journey, at the same time philosophizing with those who shared his journey regarding the higher hope, always spending his time on what was of primary importance and making other things secondary to that more precious pursuit; so, when the deflection of the stream was pointed out by those who had led the way, and the sight itself revealed the calamity, the place having been carved into a deep gorge ^D by the inrush of the waters, he says these things to those

who had gathered: ^A "It is not for men, brothers, to mark out the movement of water with boundaries; such a work belongs only to divine power, to enclose the flow of waters within limits. For that is why the Prophet says to God: 'Thou hast set a boundary which they shall not pass.' To the Lord of creation alone, to Christ, is the nature of the elements subject, remaining forever in whatever places it is appointed. Since, therefore, it is God who sets the boundaries for the waters, He alone by His own power could curb the disorder of this river."

He spoke, and as if inspired by a more divine thought, and having prayed with a loud voice that Christ might come to his aid for the work at hand, he planted the staff which he held in his hand into the broken part of the bank. ^B And since the ground at that point was wet, soft, and loose, it easily sank to the bottom, yielding at once to the weight of the staff and the hand of him who planted it. Then, having prayed to God that this might become a sort of barrier and impediment to the unruly and disordered course of the waters, he turned back, demonstrating in deed that whatever was done by him was administered by divine power. For immediately, and not long after, the staff, having taken root in the banks, became a tree. To the river, this plant was fixed as a boundary, and up to this day the plant is a spectacle and a subject of storytelling for the locals. For when that river Lycus, from incessant rain and mountain torrents, comes flooding according to its custom, and is borne along, rough and fearful as it roars with its stream, ^C then, as the water washes against the bottom roots of the tree at the edge, it swells up and contracts the flow toward the middle of the channel, and, as if fearing to approach the tree, it passes by that place with a curved wave. Such was the power of the great Gregory, or rather of God who worked miracles through him. For the nature of the elements was shown to be like a slave, obeying the dictates of him who commanded, so that a lake was turned into a fruitful field, and the chasms of the river became habitable, the staff promising future security to the inhabitants. The name of the tree, even to this day, is "The Staff," a memorial of Gregory’s grace and power preserved for the locals for all time. What, by way of comparison, would you wish to set against these things from the prophetic miracles? Shall I mention the parting of the Jordan, which Elijah performed with a strike of his sheepskin mantle before his ascension, and after him Elisha, the heir of both the mantle and his spirit? But in those cases, the water was divided only for the prophets at the time of need, through the

use of the water being cleft, it came to pass that the prophets alone could pass through the river Jordan, while for so long a time that stream held itself apart, until the prophets had crossed on dry feet through the sun-dried bed. But in the time that followed, it was as it had been before they crossed. That Lycus, however, once turned back from its insolent and unruly course, continuously creates, even quite recently, the miracle of Gregory, remaining for all the ^A time thereafter as the faith of that great man rendered it at the time when the miracle was performed. For the purpose of the action was not that those who saw it might be struck with wonder, but that the inhabitants by the river might be saved. Therefore, since the miracle is equal (for the nature of the water yields equally to the prophets as it does to the imitator of the prophets), if one must speak frankly (which is the truth), the kindness in Gregory's act is greater than that of the others, by which the salvation of the inhabitants was secured in safety, since the water, having been curbed at that place of the stream once and repressed, remained immovable even thereafter.

Now, after the fame of such miracles, which were believed to occur by the power of faith in Christ, spread to all parts of the region, everyone began to desire to be participants in that faith which was confirmed by the testimony of such miracles, and the preaching went forth everywhere, the mystery was ^B zealously exercised, and the striving for the good was intensified; for in all places the priesthood was being established, so that through all things faith might increase and grow. There came, therefore, an embassy to him from a certain neighboring city, requesting that he come to them, and establish the Church among them by the appointment of a priest. Comana was the name of the city, and all the people, in a public assembly, begged and implored that this great man might be willing to be their guest and grant them this favor.

Having therefore come to them and spent some days, and having stirred up in them an even greater desire for the mystery by what he did and what he said; when the time had come to bring to its conclusion the business for which the legates had been sent to him, and to designate a primary priest for their Church: then the opinions of all the leaders and magistrates of the city were occupied with this, that they should anxiously and curiously inquire and investigate who, ^C by eloquence, by lineage, and by the rest of the splendor of life, seemed to surpass the others. For they supposed that, since the great Gregory was also endowed with these goods, it was necessary that the one chosen for this office not be lacking in these things. But when they were divided into many factions by their votes, and some preferred and advocated one person, others another, that great man awaited some counsel from God to be supplied to him regarding the matter at hand. And just as Samuel is recorded not to have been moved by the beauty or the size of bodies when choosing a king, but to have sought out a royal soul, even if it were found in a body that might be held in contempt: in the same way also he, disregarding the ambitions regarding each of those who were being voted upon, looked to this one thing alone: whether any man, even before the declaration, carried the priesthood in his manner of life through the diligence of his virtue and conduct. And while they brought forward those who had been voted for with praises, each one ^D advocating his own candidate, he was bidden to look even toward those who were humbler according to the appearance of their life (for it is possible that even among such—

^A a person might be found who surpassed in the wealth of his soul those who were more renowned in their life). Someone among those presiding over the vote thought this judgment of the great man was an insult and a mockery, since, when none of those who were preferred to the rest by their eloquence, their dignity, and the manifest splendor of their life were being admitted to the priesthood, some from among the base handicraftsmen were being thought more worthy of such a grace. And at the same time, mocking him, he came forward and said to him, "If you bid this, that such men as these, who have been chosen from the whole number of the citizens, should be passed over, and that we should take instead from the dregs of society someone for the administration of the priesthood, to preside over such a city, it will be time for you next to call Alexander the charcoal-burner to the priesthood." And turning to him, he added, "If it pleases you, let the whole city agree to this vote." He was saying these things, speaking against his counsel, and through this ironical vote was criticizing the exactness shown in the ^B previous selections.

But to the great man, through these words, the thought occurred that it was not without divine providence that Alexander had been brought into the memory of those who were deliberating among the rest. "And who," he asked, "is this Alexander of whom you have made mention?" Then, when one of those present had, with laughter, brought forth into the midst the man who had been mentioned, clad in vile and filthy rags—indeed, not even covering his whole body—and at the same time showing by his appearance his trade—his hands, his face, and the rest of his body being smeared and soiled with the work of charcoal—to the others such an Alexander, standing in their midst, was a subject for laughter. But to that perceptive eye of his, the thing that was happening and being seen caused great astonishment: a man in extreme poverty, with a neglected body, looking only to himself, and as it were rejoicing in that habit—a habit which was ridiculous to uninstructed eyes. For so it was. ^C He had not come to such a kind of life driven by poverty, but the man was a philosopher, as his subsequent life showed, to such a degree that he even attained to martyrdom, having finished his course through fire. He sought, however, to remain hidden, or rather he made it his aim, being gifted with a higher spirit than to care for the happiness that is sought by the masses; he held the world as nothing, being possessed by the desire for the higher and true life. And in order that he might best attain the virtue to which he aspired, he took pains that he might remain unknown as such, hiding himself as if behind an ugly mask by means of a more despised way of life. Furthermore, since he was also endowed with the exceptional flower of youth, he deemed it dangerous for one who had proposed to himself the pursuit of continence to make public the beauty of his body, as if parading the felicity of his nature; for he knew that such a thing is wont to ^D provide for most people an occasion for grave falls and sins.

And so, that he might neither suffer anything involuntary, nor provide to the eyes of others a cause for falling and stumbling, he deliberately donned, like some hideous mask, the work of a charcoal burner, by which his body was exercised toward virtue through these labors, its beauty was covered by the filth of the charcoal, and at the same time the money he sought from his labors was provided for the fulfillment of the commandments. Having therefore moved him away from the council, and having questioned him with all precision concerning his state and condition, he surrendered him to those around him, giving them orders to do what the matter required. He himself returned to the council, and, taking his cue from the current deliberation, he instructed those gathered there, proposing to them discourses on the office of the priesthood, and through these outlining a life joined with virtue. He persisted in such discourses, keeping the assembly delayed, until those who performed their service to him had fulfilled what was commanded, and arrived, bringing with them Alexander, who had both washed away the unpleasantness of the soot with a bath, and was adorned and dressed in the great man’s garments. For the others had been ordered to see to these things.

When everyone had turned toward Alexander and was set in admiration at the appearance, "Nothing new has happened to you," the master said to them, "if you have been deceived by your eyes and have entrusted the judgment of beauty to the senses alone. For the sense is a fallacious and uncertain judge of the truth of things, precluding of itself [the opportunity for] access to the depth of the mind and intelligence. ^C At the same time, it was also entirely the goal of the demon who is an enemy of piety that the vessel of election should be kept covered by ignorance, so as to be idle and useless, and that a man who was to be the destroyer of his dominion should not come into the midst." Having said this, he offered the man to God through the priesthood, making him perfect in grace according to the customary manner.

When everyone was looking toward the new priest, and he was requested to deliver some discourse to the church, Alexander immediately, at the very beginning of his administration, showed that the judgment of the great Gregory concerning him had not been false. For his discourse was full of intelligence and depth of thought, less adorned with the flowers of rhetoric. Hence, a certain insolent youth from Attica, who happened to be among them, mocked his unrefined diction, because it was not adorned with that exact and superfluous care which the Attics were accustomed to employ in speaking. They say that he was corrected by a certain divine vision, when he had caught sight of a flock of pigeons shining with an incredible beauty, and had heard someone saying that these were the pigeons of Alexander, whom he had mocked. ^D Which of these things should one admire more? That the man was not moved by the vote of those who were preeminent in dignity, nor was he carried away, at the same time, by the testimonies of the leading and prominent men? Or is it more fitting to admire the riches hidden in the charcoal, which, by a testimony of right judgment directly produced by God, followed through the vision of the orator? For to me, each of these things seems to be of such a nature that they compete with one another, while all of them are, for the most part, among the first of those things mentioned for which one should marvel. For the fact that he resisted the impulse of the powerful, the...

clearest sign of a firm and lofty mind, is what made him regard as equal all things that appear in the world, whether they tended toward magnificence and splendor or toward lowliness and obscurity; and by assigning pride of place only to virtue, and judging only a life lived in wickedness to be worthy of rejection, he looked upon as nothing all things whatsoever that are judged in this life to be worthy of any pursuit or of contempt. And this, indeed, is what is demonstrated to have been done even on that occasion. For since he was making every effort to find a person acceptable and worthy in the sight of God, he did not consider wealth, or dignity, or the splendors of this world—none of which are enumerated in holy Scripture in the list of goods—to be suitable things to admit as testimony. It is not, therefore, only this which is worthy of praise and admiration, that he rejected the promptings of those in power; but rather that, through what followed, he surpassed even himself. For he who merely rejects an inept and less suitable opinion, without adding what the situation demands, surely prevents the evil, yet does not accomplish the good. But he who, beyond not consenting to the worse, also discovers the good, achieves the good through both, while neither giving the evil an opportunity nor failing to bring the good to effect. Thus, the benefit of great Gregory accrued to the city in both respects, as he both averted what was being done amiss by them through ignorance and, through himself, manifested the good that had been hidden among them. ^A This was the clearest mark of [his] unmovable and lofty intellect, whereby all things appearing in the world were viewed by him in the same light, whether they had to do with what is greater and more illustrious, or whether they had to do with what is humble and obscure; he held it as belonging to the same, granting preference only to virtue and judging only the life of vice as worthy of rejection, seeing all things which in this life are judged either worthy of some zeal or of dishonor as nothing. ^B And this he also demonstrates having done at that time. For seeking to find one who was favored by God and worthy, he did not think wealth and rank, and the splendors of this world, to be reliable indicators for testimony—things which the divine Word has not numbered among the list of goods. This, then, is not the only thing worthy of praise and wonder, that he did not yield to the pursuits of the powerful; but he even surpassed himself through the things that followed. For the one who merely declined an unworthy opinion, but did not contribute what was lacking for the necessity, prevented the evil but did not perform the good. But he, in addition to not agreeing with the worse, also discovered the good, completing the good through both; not allowing the evil access, and bringing the good into activity, so that the benefit of the great Gregory to the city became twofold: he both turned them away from that which was being done wrong by them through ignorance, and made known the good that had been hidden among them by his own action.

^C Since all things had, in the opinion of this great man, proceeded with the assistance of the Holy Spirit, it would not be out of place to recount also the incidental event of his journey, in order that the grace which was present with the man might be shown through all things. For since it was known to all that this was what he sought after before all others—to look to all things for the consolation of those in need—two men of the Hebrew faith, whether looking for gain or contriving some insult against the man, as one easily disposed to being deceived, lay in wait for his return. And one of these, appearing to be dead, was stretched out on his back, thrown across the public highway; the other, as if lamenting the one lying there, imitated the voices of those who mourn, and cried out to the passing great man, saying that this wretch had suddenly been seized by death, lay naked, and was unprepared for burial. ^D He therefore begged the great man not to overlook the funeral rites for him, but, taking some pity on his poverty, to provide from what he had at hand that with which the final adornment might be cast upon his body. He indeed was supplicating, saying these and such-like things; but the other, without any hesitation, cast the cloak with which he was wrapped upon the one lying there and continued on his way. But when he had passed by and those who had played this trick upon him were alone, that deceiver changed his pretended lamentation into laughter, and exhorted the one lying there to get up, wishing for himself the gain that had come to them by his deceit.

But the other remained in the same state, hearing nothing of what was being said. And when he used a louder voice, and at the same time tried to rouse him by kicking him with his foot, the one lying still neither listened to the voice nor felt the blow, but remained stretched out in the same posture. ^A For he was dead, having passed away in true death at the very moment the cloak was cast upon him—the death he had feigned for the sake of deceiving ^B the great man; so that the man of God was not proved false, but the cloak, for the sake of which it had been given by him, became useful for the purpose of those who had received it. If such an act of the great man’s faith and power seems bitter and atrocious, let no one be surprised, looking toward the great Peter. For he, too, did not merely demonstrate the power with which he was endowed by doing good—showing to the people the man lame from birth running and leaping, or healing the infirmities of the sick by the shadow of his own body as the sun, in the movement of the apostle, ^C fell transversely across his body—but he also condemns Ananias to death when he viewed the power dwelling in the apostle with contempt, so that, I believe, by fear of that event, everyone among the people who might be suffering the same disease of contempt might be recalled to a sounder opinion, being restrained by the dreadful example, lest he himself should be led to commit the same act and be subjected to the same penalties. Rightly, then, the imitator of Peter, having shown the greatness of his power through many benevolent miracles, also prepared the one who had attempted to use deceit against the Spirit to testify to the truth concerning himself. For it was necessary, I suppose, for the destroyer of falsehood to transform the falsehood even in the deceiver into truth, so that it might become clear to all thereby that whatever was said by the great man was true, and that whatever he had accepted as true was not a lie. The Jews, therefore, having mocked his power as they thought, in the manner described, became a lesson to others not to dare any deception in matters where God himself becomes ^D the accuser of the things dared.

After this, when a certain gathering had once taken place under the open sky in one of the places of the region, and all were held in admiration of his teaching, a certain youth was calling out to those assembled that the teacher was not saying these things from himself, but that another standing beside him was uttering the words. And when, after the gathering was dismissed, the boy was brought to him, that great man is said to have told those present that the youth was not free from a demon; and at the same time, taking off the linen cloth which he wore upon his shoulders, and bringing it to the breath of his own mouth, he cast it in this way upon the young man. When this happened, the youth began to be troubled and to cry out, and to fall to the ground and be tossed about, and to suffer all the torments that are accustomed to come from demons. Then, when the saint had laid his hand upon him and calmed the turmoil, the demon indeed flew away from him, and he himself, having returned to his former state and tranquility, no longer said that he saw upon the holy man the one speaking

^A For this, too, is among his great miracles, namely that he did not perform miracles of healing with any elaborate procedure; but it sufficed for the casting out of demons, and for the healing of bodily ailments, for the breath from his mouth to be brought to the sufferer by means of a linen cloth. But to go through all the miracles performed by him in succession would be a long task of writing, and one that would exceed the present leisure of my discourse; yet, by mentioning one or two more of the miracles told of him, I shall here bring my discourse to a close. For since the divine proclamation had already traveled everywhere, and all, both those inhabiting the city and those who dwelt in the surrounding countryside, had been brought over to the pious faith of the doctrine, and altars and shrines and idols among them had been pulled down, ^B and human life had already been purged of the defilements regarding the idols, and the foul stench of the sacrifices extinguished, and the filth of the altars and the pollutions from animal slaughter had been washed away, and all men everywhere were zealously erecting houses of prayer in the name of Christ, rage and envy entered into him who at that time presided over the Roman empire, because the ancestral worship of his deceit was being neglected, while the mystery of the Christians was increasing, and the Church was growing in size everywhere in the inhabited world through those who were constantly being added to the Word; and, thinking it possible to resist the divine power with his own cruelty, and to inhibit the preaching of the mystery, and to overthrow the established Churches, and to lead back again to the idols those who had been added to the Word, he therefore sends forth an edict to the governors of the nations, defining a terrible threat of punishment against them if they did not, by all manner of tortures, cause those who invoked and worshipped the name of Christ to be corrupted, and did not lead them back again through fear and the necessity of tortures to the ancestral worship of the demons. ^C When this terrible and impious edict was announced to the rulers, it having traveled everywhere throughout the empire by those appointed by the tyrannical cruelty for this very purpose, and such a one was in power over the nation of that place, who needed to prompt no higher authority toward his own wicked eagerness and bitterness and hostility toward those who had believed in the Word—it was proclaimed by him in public edicts that they must either abjure the faith or be punished with all manner of tortures and death. And there was nothing else at that time, either public or private, that was being done or sought by those who held public affairs in their hands, except to besiege and punish those who held fast to the faith. ^D Moreover, the terrors were not in the threats of words alone, but along with these, the varied construction of the tortures brought every kind of consternation, and

^A fear even before the danger was instilled in men. Swords, fire, wild beasts, pits, and instruments for wrenching the limbs were ready, as were iron chairs heated in the fire and upright wooden stakes, upon which the bodies of those standing firm were stretched and lacerated by the violent application of terrible claws. Countless other things were devised by them, invented for the varied torment of the body. The one concern of those who held these powers was that no one should appear milder than another in the degree of their cruelty. Some gave information, others pointed out the victims, others searched for those in hiding. Some set upon those fleeing, while others, looking toward the possessions of the faithful and desiring to take hold of their property, harassed and agitated under the pretext of piety those who clung to the faith. There was total confusion and great helplessness among the people, with everyone suspicious of one another; neither did fathers retain affection for their children in the face of such terrors, nor did nature guarantee children the faithful care of their fathers. Families and kinships were divided and set against each other, split by their religious sects. A son who embraced the errors of the Greeks became a betrayer of his faithful parents, and a father who remained in infidelity became the accuser of his son who had believed. A brother, for the same cause, fought against nature, judging it a pious act to punish his own kin if that person held fast to the faith. Hence, the wildernesses were full of those being driven away, while houses were emptied of their inhabitants. Many of the public buildings were assigned to the needs of those who were imprisoned, for the dungeons were not large enough to contain the multitude of those who were punished for the sake of the faith. All the market-places and assemblies, both public and private, instead of their accustomed cheerfulness and joy, received these types of calamities, as some were dragged away, others were led off, and others among those present either laughed or wept at what was happening. There was no pity for infants, no honor for gray hairs, no respect for virtue that entered the minds of the hostile; but, as in a captured city, every age was surrendered and subjected to the enemies of the faith. ^D Not even for women was the natural weakness of their sex indulged, so that they might remain exempt from such dangers; but there was one law of cruelty against all, subjecting, with no distinction of sex, the one who was alien to the idols to the same manner of punishment. Then that great man, having observed and considered the weakness and fragility of human nature, seeing that the many were not able to struggle until death for the sake of piety, becomes an advisor to the Church to withdraw for a little while from the terrible assault, judging it better that their souls should be preserved through flight than that, while standing in the battle line of the struggle, they should become deserters of the faith. And so that men might be most fully persuaded that there is no danger to the soul in preserving the faith through flight, he becomes, by his own example, an advisor for this withdrawal, having himself withdrawn before others from the force of the danger. Moreover, this was also the most earnest desire of those in power, that through him, as if a general had been captured, they might dissolve the entire battle line of the faith; and of this

^A the enemy was so eager, in order that they might bring him into their power.

He had occupied a certain deserted hill, taking with him the man who had originally been an attendant (neokoros) but had been instructed in the faith and was already serving in the office of deacon. When the persecutors, who followed his tracks in great numbers, were informed by someone of the place where he was hiding, some of them ^B occupied and guarded the foothills all around, so that in no way could he escape, should he attempt to flee. Others climbed the mountain and, scouring every part, were soon in plain sight of the great man, as they ran straight toward him. He, however, urged his companion to stand firm in unwavering trust towards God, and to entrust his salvation to Him, just as he himself was doing; and, extending his hands in prayer, he encouraged him not to cast off his faith through fear, even if the persecutors should come close. He provided himself to the deacon as an example of what he was commanding, gazing toward heaven with an unturning eye, and with hands outstretched in an upright posture. While they were in this state, those who had run up to them ^C searched the whole place; and when they had searched every thicket and shrub, every projecting rock, and every hollow of the ravines with the utmost diligence, they returned again to the foothills, so that out of fear of those searching, he might turn to flight and fall into the hands of those who had surrounded the lowest part of the hill.

Since, therefore, he was not found by these, nor was he among those others, and the informant who had observed the place where the great man stood described the location with signs—the place where the searchers asserted they had seen no one, except for two trees standing a little apart from each other—and when the searchers had departed, the informant remained behind. Finding the great man and his companion in prayer, and recognizing the divine protection through which those trees had appeared to the persecutors, he fell at his feet and believed his words; and he who a short while before had been a persecutor, became one of those who had fled.

Now, as they remained in the wilderness for a long time (for the war against the faith was prevailing, and the provincial governor was raging cruelly against those who adhered to the preaching of piety), and all had turned to flight; after they despaired ^D of the great man ever falling into the hands of the persecutors, they then turned their rabid fury against the rest. They searched everywhere throughout the province for all—men, women, and children alike—whoever held the holy name of Christ in reverence, and dragged them to the city, filling the prisons, charging them with piety as a crime in place of any other wrongdoing, so that at that time the courts were not occupied with any other public business, except that the magistrates were solely intent on this one thing: applying all kinds of uniquely and cleverly devised tortures against those who held fast to the faith.

Then it becomes even more clearly manifest to all ^A that the great man took no counsel without the divine will. For having preserved himself for his people by flight, he was a common aid and protection to all who were struggling on behalf of the faith. For just as we hear of Moses, that although he stood far off from the battle array of the Amalekites, by prayer he imparted strength to his kin against their adversaries, in the same manner he too, as if beholding with the eyes of the soul the things that were happening, invoked the divine assistance for those contending for the profession of the faith. And once, while praying to God with his companions as was his custom, he was suddenly filled with an intense struggle and turmoil, and was clearly seen by those present to be as one struck with wonder, and gripped with anxiety at the spectacle, and straining his hearing as if some sound were reaching him. And after a not inconsiderable space of time had passed, having remained throughout all the time in between erect and motionless, then, as if the spectacle before him had reached a good end, he returned again to his usual state, and praised God with a most clear voice, and uttered that hymn of victory and thanksgiving which we often hear in the Psalter of David saying: *Blessed be God, who has not given us as a prey to their teeth* (Ps. cxxiii, 6). And when those about him were marveling and asking to learn what in the world the spectacle was that had occurred before his eyes, he is said to have replied that he had seen in that hour a great fall, the devil having been ^B overthrown by a certain youth in the struggles for piety. And to those who did not yet understand what had been said, he explained more clearly to them that by divine help in that hour a certain youth of noble birth had contended with the sweat of faith, having been led by the executioners to the governor. He even added the name, calling him Troadius, and that after many torments, which he had endured bravely, he had been crowned with the crown of martyrdom. The deacon, being struck with amazement at what he heard, and while neither daring to disbelieve any of the things being said, and at the same time judging them to be above human nature—that one who was far from the city, and with no man having reported to him the things concerning him, should speak to those with him about those events as if he had been present at the happenings—he becomes a suppliant to the master to allow him to see with his own eyes what had been done, and not to be prevented by him from reaching those places where the miracle had occurred. And when he said that it was fearful to be in the midst of murderous men, and that often by the hostility of the adversary something undesirable might suddenly happen ^C beyond what was intended, the deacon said he relied upon the help of his prayers, uttering this voice to him: "Do you commend me to God, and no fear from the enemies shall lay hold of me." And when he had sent him forth, as if commending God's help as a fellow traveler for him through his prayer, he went on his way full of confidence, turning to no one of those he met. Being inside the city by evening, and weary from his

journey, he considered it necessary to tend to his exhausted body in a bath. ^A Now, a certain murderous demon resided in that place, accustomed to haunting the bathhouse, whose destructive power became active in the darkness against those who approached. For this reason, that bath was inaccessible and unused after sunset. Standing at its entrance, he implored the one in charge to open the door, to allow him entry, and not to begrudge him the relief of the bath. When the man testified that no one who had dared to enter the water at that hour had ever returned on his own feet, but that after evening the demon held everyone in its power, and that many, through ignorance, had already suffered incurable evils, whom lamentations, burials, and groans had awaited instead of the hoped-for relief—as the bath-attendant related these and similar things, he did not in the least relent from his desire, but pressed him in every way, compelling him to let him inside. Wishing not to share the danger of the stranger’s ignorance, the attendant, having turned the key for him, departed far from the bath.

When he had undressed and was inside, many and varied causes of fear and terror were arrayed by the demon: specters of every kind, displaying a nature mingled with fire and smoke, falling upon his eyes in the form of men and beasts, resounding in his ears, approaching with panting breath, and surrounding his body on every side. But he, setting before himself the sign (of the cross) and invoking the name of Christ, passed through the first chamber unharmed. As he proceeded further into the interior of the building, he encountered more grievous sights, the demon having transformed its appearance into a more terrifying form; at the same time, the room seemed to him to be shaken by an earthquake, and the floor appearing to crack open revealed the fire beneath, while sparks of flame were emitted from the waters. Yet again, by the same weapons—the sign (of the cross, that is) and the name of Christ—and by the help of the prayers of his master, he dispersed the terrors of those things which were then occurring.

When, now refreshed by the water, he hastened to leave, he was again hindered by the demon, which had blocked the door. But even this obstacle was ^C dispersed by the same power, the door opening of its own accord as the sign (of the cross) was used. When everything had turned out according to his wishes, it is said that the demon cried out to him in a human voice, not to attribute to himself the power by which he had escaped destruction; for the voice of the one who had entrusted him to his guardian had granted him protection from harm.

Saved, therefore, in the manner we have described, he was an object of wonder to those in charge of the place, because none of those who had ever dared to enter the water at that time had afterward been seen among the living. When he had related to them what had happened to him, and had learned that the valiant deeds of the martyrs in the city had come to pass in the same manner as that great man, living in the wilderness, had previously set forth and predicted, in addition to the accounts concerning himself,

^A and what he had heard, and what he had learned by his own experience of the power of the great faith, to which the demon had also borne witness—he returned again to his teacher, leaving behind for the men of his own time and for those who would come after both a common protection, that each might commend himself to God through the priests. And even now, throughout the whole Church, but especially among those people, such a voice is held as a memorial of the aid and protection that was at that time provided to that man by Gregory.

But when that tyranny had already been dissolved by divine assistance, and peace had again succeeded in human life, by which the pursuit of the divine was freely and abundantly open to all, he descended again to the city, and having traversed the whole region round about, he made an addition to the pursuit of the divine for the peoples everywhere, by decreeing festivals for those who had struggled for the faith. And having distributed the bodies of the martyrs elsewhere, they would gather together at the annual rotation of the yearly cycle, and rejoice, celebrating in honor of the martyrs. For this indeed was a proof of his great wisdom: because, while transforming the whole generation of his time at once to a new kind of life—like some charioteer presiding over nature, and securely yoking them with the reins of faith and the knowledge of God—he granted a small relaxation to the yoke of faith, allowing the subjects to rejoice briefly out of gladness. For having perceived that, because of bodily pleasures, the simple and uneducated multitude remained in the error of idol worship, ^B in order that he might attain in the meantime that which was the primary goal—namely, that having abandoned vain superstitions they should be converted to God—he allowed them to exhilarate and delight themselves in the memory of the holy martyrs, and to pour themselves into joy, so that in time they might one day, of their own accord, pass over to a more honorable and exact manner of life; and because faith also prepared a way for that end, which indeed has already been attained in the case of many, every pleasure being translated from the delights of the body to a spiritual form of gladness.

But while he lived and conducted himself in this manner in the Church, and had a zeal, before his departure from this life, to see all men converted from idols to the saving faith: when he foresaw his own departure, he searched with care and diligence through the whole surrounding region, wishing to know if any were left outside the faith. When, therefore, he learned that those who had remained in the ancient error were no more than seventeen, "It is indeed a bitter thing," he said, looking up to God, "that anything should be lacking to the fullness of those who are being saved." Nevertheless, he said that it was a matter worthy of great thanksgiving that he should leave behind as many idolaters for the one who was to succeed him in the Church as he himself had received Christians. And having prayed for those who had already believed, for their growth toward perfection, and for the conversion of those who were unbelievers, thus of the human...

^A life he departs to God, having charged his kin not to acquire a place specifically for his burial. For if, while alive, he did not consent to be called lord of any place, but lived his life dwelling as a tenant and stranger in others' lands, he would not even after death be at all ashamed of being a tenant. "But let it be," he said, "a narrative for the life hereafter, that Gregory was neither named after any place while living, nor became an occupant of others' lands after death, having detached himself from all possession on earth, so that he did not even endure to be buried in his own place; for he judged that to be the only possession honorable and desirable which bears within it no trace of deceit or avarice."

But as to the sudden transformation of the whole nation from Grecian vanity to the acknowledgment of the truth, let whoever reads this account marvel; yet let no one withhold belief, but rather look to the dispensation and counsel ^B by which such a change occurred for those who were transferred from falsehood to the truth. For what happened in the first times of his priesthood—which my narrative, hurrying toward the other miracles, passed over—I shall now take up again and relate.

There was a certain public and universal festival in the city, celebrated for a certain local demon according to some ancestral rite and customary observance. To this, almost the entire nation flocked, with the whole region celebrating along with the city. The theater had been completely filled with those who had hurried there, and the crowd of latecomers spilled over from all sides above the seats. And since everyone was eager to watch the spectacles and listen to the performances directed toward the orchestra, the stage was full of uproar, and the display for the magicians was rendered fruitless; the turmoil of those cramped together was not only impeding the enjoyment of the music, but was not even granting the magicians time to display their own arts. ^C Then a common voice bursts forth from the whole multitude, calling upon the demon in whose honor they were holding the festival, and requesting from him that space be made for them.

Since everyone was speaking in unison, the voice rose to a height, and it seemed as if the speech of the entire city were from one mouth, for the intercession offered to the demon (and the prayer was, as to hear the words themselves: "Zeus, make us room"). But that great man, having heard the sound of those calling by name upon the demon from whom they were requesting room to be made for the city, sent one of those standing by and said to them that space—more than they were praying for—would shortly be given to them.

But with this voice from him—uttered, as it were, like a ^D grim sentence—a pestilence follows that crowded gathering of those keeping the festival and celebrating the games. And at once, lamentation was mingled with the choruses of dancers, so that their pleasures were turned into mourning and calamities, and instead of the flutes and clapping, alternating dirges and mournful songs had seized the city everywhere. For once the disease had attacked the people, it spread faster than could be imagined, consuming the houses like fire, so that

^A even the sacred edifices, to which men fled in the hope of healing and remedy, were filled with those dying of the disease; while the fountains, the conduits, the springs, and the wells were filled with those whom the thirst caused by the ^B violence of the disease was consuming (and in these cases the water was of no power to quench the burning heat of the ailment, for those who had once been seized by the malady were affected just as much after drinking the water as they had been before). Many, moreover, went of their own accord to the tombs, because the survivors were no longer sufficient to bury the dead, nor did the evil attack men unexpectedly; but rather, a certain specter would appear at the houses upon which destruction was impending, so that a sure death would follow. When, therefore, the cause of the disease became plain to all—namely, that the demon invoked by them was wickedly fulfilling the prayers of these foolish and wretched men, thereby producing this wretched lack of space in the city—they became suppliants of the great man, beseeching him to stay the onrush of the evil through the God who was known and preached by him, whom they acknowledged to be the only true God and to possess authority over all things. For since that specter appeared to a house before the destruction that was to occur there, and immediately cast the inhabitants into despair of their lives, the only means of salvation for those in danger was for the great Gregory to enter that house, and by his prayer to drive away the ailment that had fallen upon it. When the news spread quickly among all the people through those who had been the first to obtain such salvation, all the things which they had previously busied themselves with out of vanity—oracles, ^C expiatory sacrifices, and the dwelling in the temples of idols—were abandoned. All turned their eyes toward the great priest, each one drawing him to himself for the salvation of his whole family. The reward he received from those who were saved was the salvation of their souls. For by such an experience of the priest's piety being manifested, there was no longer any delay in consenting to the mystery, since they were being taught the power of faith through these deeds. Thus, to those people, the disease became stronger than health. For by as much as they were weak in their reasoning with regard to the acceptance of the mystery while in health, by so much were they strengthened toward faith by the bodily disease. And thus, ^D the error concerning idols being exposed, all were translated to the name of Christ, some being led by the hand to the truth by the disease that had come upon them, while others put forward faith in Christ as a protection, in order that they might be safe against the pestilence. There are also other miracles of the great Gregory preserved in memory to this day, which, sparing unbelieving ears, lest those who, on account of the magnitude of the things reported, think that truth is a lie should be offended, we have not added to our writings. To Christ, however, who works such miracles through his servants, belongs glory, honor, and adoration, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

OF OUR HOLY FATHER GREGORY, ON THE LIFE OF SAINT MACRINA, SISTER OF THE GREAT BASIL.

^A The form of this volume, insofar as its title indicates, appears to be a letter; yet its length exceeds the measure of a letter and encompasses the full magnitude of a book. Nevertheless, the subject matter, which you commanded me to commit to writing, defends me, for it is too great and too abundant to be confined within the bounds of a letter. You surely ought not to have forgotten that meeting when we encountered one another in the city of Antioch, at the time you were traveling to Jerusalem in order to visit the monuments of Christ’s pilgrimage while He was in the flesh, and the conversations which we held together on various topics; for that meeting could not have been silent, since your wisdom provided manifold occasion for discussion.

^B During our discourse, therefore, as happens in such meetings, we fell into mention of a certain virtuous woman—if indeed she ought to be called a woman, who surpassed the standard of nature. Our account did not derive its credibility from the reports of others, but carefully pursued those things of which experience had been the teacher, and it confirmed almost nothing by the testimony of another's hearing. For the virgin of whom we speak was not a stranger to our family, such that it would be necessary to learn the wonderful things about her through others, but she was born to the same parents, just as a sort of first-fruit of the harvest, having first blossomed from the maternal womb.

Since, therefore, you have judged that the history of good people is fruitful, so that a life of such a kind might not be hidden by time, nor pass by uselessly, enveloped in silence—the life of one who, through the study of philosophy, had raised herself to the height of human virtue—I deemed it necessary to obey you, and to explain her life in an unadorned and simple narrative as briefly as I could. ^C The virgin’s name was Macrina; and Macrina was a certain distinguished woman of old in our family, the mother of our father.

^A who had contended for the confessions of Christ at the time of the persecutions, from whom the child was named by her parents. But this was the name known in public, the name by which she was called by those who knew her. Another name had been given to her in hidden fashion; before she came into the light through the pains of childbirth, she was named by a certain divine manifestation. For her mother was indeed such in virtue that she was guided in everything by the divine will; and she especially embraced a pure and unblemished manner of life, so much so that she would not have chosen marriage of her own accord. But since she was an orphan on both sides, and was in the flower of her age, and the report of her beauty incited many to seek her hand in marriage, and there was danger—unless she were joined to someone by her own consent—that she might suffer some unwanted harm from the harassment of those who had been driven to madness by her beauty; for this reason, having chosen a man who was recognized and attested for the gravity of his life, so as to gain a guardian for her own life, she became the mother of this child at the very first labor pains. And when the time arrived in which the labor needed to reach its natural conclusion, she fell asleep and seemed to be carrying in her hands what she was still bearing in her womb; and someone appearing in a form and shape more magnificent than that of a human being called the child she was carrying by the name of Thecla—that Thecla, I mean, who is so celebrated among the martyrs. ^B Having done this and left it testified three times, he departed, and the labor was eased, so that as soon as she awoke from sleep, she saw the dream fulfilled in reality. This, therefore, was her secret name. It seems to me, however, that He who appeared in her sleep did not utter this word so much to declare by what name the child should be called, as to show, by the likeness of the name, the same zeal and standard for her life.

^C The child was therefore brought up; though she had her own nurse, she was for the most part nurtured in the arms of her mother. When she had passed the age of infancy, she showed herself very teachable in learning childhood lessons; for whatever subject her parents indicated ought to be learned, the girl’s talent excelled in it. Her mother, however, was anxious to educate the girl, but not in that external series of disciplines by which the first ages of those learning are generally imbued through the reading of the poets. For she thought it shameful and altogether improper for a tender and well-formed mind to be infected by the tragic passions which the poets drew from women for the beginnings and subjects of their writing, or by the obscenities of the comedies, or by the shameful deeds of those who had brought so many woes to Ilium, or for it to be, in a sense, defiled by less serious stories about women. ^D Therefore, the lessons she proposed for her daughter were those from the divinely inspired Scripture that seemed easier and more suitable for a young age, and especially the Wisdom of Solomon; and more than this, whatever contributed to our moral life. But she was not ignorant of any part of the sung Scripture, going through each part of the Psalter at its proper time, both when rising from her bed, and when taking up her serious tasks, and when resting, and when taking food, and when withdrawing

from them, and when rising to pray, she always had the Psalmodic chant as a good and inseparable companion, forsaking her at no time.

Educated by these and similar customs, and exercising her hand excellently in working wool, she reached her twelfth year. At this time, the flower of her youth began to shine forth in a wonderful way, and what is worthy of admiration is that, although the maiden’s beauty was veiled, it could not remain hidden. For it seemed that ^B there was nothing in all her native land as admirable as her form and grace, such that even the hands of painters could not attain her comeliness; rather, that art which contrives everything and dares the greatest things, even representing the images of the elements by imitation, proved unable to imitate the excellence of that form with accuracy. For this reason, a great swarm of those seeking her hand in marriage surrounded her parents. Her father, however (for he was indeed prudent and experienced in judging what is noble), singled out a certain young man, distinguished by both lineage and character, and, preferring him to the others, promised his daughter to him, should she reach the proper age. In the meantime, the young man was raising great expectations for himself, and in his legal defenses of the accused, he displayed an outstanding talent for oratory, and thus offered to the maiden’s father a gift of engagement that was quite pleasing. Yet envy interrupted this bright hope, snatching him away from life in his pitiable youth.

The maiden was not unaware of what her father had decreed; for, upon the death of the youth, she learned of her father’s plan. Therefore, calling her father’s judgment a marriage—as if what her father had ordained had already been fulfilled—she resolved to keep to herself for the remainder of her life, and she remained more constant in this conviction ^C than was required of that age. For with the frequent approach of the words of her parents, because many were those who, led by the reputation of her beauty, desired to join her to themselves as their wife, she said it was absurd and unlawful not to honor the marriage once betrothed to her by her father, and to be forced to look toward another; since there is one marriage by nature, just as there is one birth and one death. She argued that the one to whom she had been betrothed by her parents was not dead, but lived in God through the hope of the resurrection. Therefore, she judged that he had not died, but had gone abroad, and it would be a sin if she did not keep faith with a betrothed spouse who was traveling. By such arguments, she drove away those who tried to persuade her, and she fixed upon this as the one safeguard of her good judgment: never to be separated from her own mother, not even for a fleeting moment of time. So often, the mother said to her that she had carried her other children in her womb for a predetermined time, but that she always bore her daughter, in a way, contained within her own heart. Yet for the mother, this companionship ^D of the daughter was neither laborious nor unprofitable; for the daughter’s care was equivalent to many handmaids for her, and it was a sort of reciprocation

^A beneficial to both. For the one tended the soul of the young woman, while the other tended the mother’s body, fulfilling in all other respects the required service; and this included frequently preparing bread for her mother with her own hands. This, however, was not what she occupied herself with primarily; but since she had consecrated her hands to mystical services, believing that the diligence involved in this was appropriate to her way of life, she provided food for her mother from what remained of her own labors. Nor did she do this alone, but she also helped her manage every burden that weighed upon her. For she was the mother of four sons and five daughters, and she paid taxes to three different governors, because her property was scattered throughout so many nations.

Since the mother was therefore involved in varied cares, being divided by this—for the father had already departed this life—in all these things the daughter was a partner to her mother in her labors, sharing her cares and lightening the burden of her distresses. Simultaneously, under her mother’s training, she kept her own life blameless, living always before her mother’s eyes and being approved by her witness; and at the same time she provided for her mother a great guide toward the same goal, I mean that of philosophy, through the example of her own life, slowly drawing her toward a more immaterial and perfect existence. And when the mother had arranged the affairs of her daughters according to what seemed proper for each with due decorum, there returned from the schools of learning, in which he had spent much time, the great Basil, the brother of the aforementioned. Having found him, therefore, to be ^B exceedingly puffed up by his conceit regarding eloquence, and despising all official honors, and set above those who were illustrious in power by his arrogance, she incited him to the same goal of philosophy with such speed that, having abandoned worldly distinction and regarding with contempt the glory of eloquence, he embraced this laborious and toil-filled way of life through perfect poverty, and constructed for himself a clear path toward virtue. But his life and the subsequent pursuits through which he became famous throughout the whole world ^C—obscuring with his own glory all those who had shone in virtue—would require a long composition and much time; but let my discourse now turn back to the subject at hand. For since the premise of a more material life had already been cut away from her, she persuaded her mother, having abandoned the life according to custom, and the more ostentatious way of living, and the services of the underlings she had been wont to use in time past, to become equal in status to the many in her mindset, and to mingle her own life with the company of the virgins, making all those among the household servants and underlings who had been with her as sisters and peers;—but I wish to interpose a small matter into the narrative, and not to pass over in silence such a thing, by which the sublimity of the virgin is more clearly declared.

Of the four brothers, the one next in age after the great Basil ^D was named Naucratius, a youth gifted with exceptional endowments of both mind and body; for in beauty of form, and in strength, and in speed, and in his aptitude for everything, he surpassed the others.

Having reached his twenty-second year, and having given such an exhibition of his studies in a public address that the entire theater of his audience was moved to admiration for him, he was suddenly led by a ^A certain divine providence and a great impulse of mind to despise all things he had in his hands and betook himself to a solitary and destitute life, carrying nothing with him but himself. One of the servants, named Chrysaphius, followed him, both because he was fond of him and because he had been seized by the same zeal for this way of life. Having therefore found a retreat near the Iris—for the Iris is a river which flows through the middle of the province of Pontus, taking its origin from Armenia itself and discharging its stream through our own region into the Euxine Sea—the young man found a place near this river covered with dense woods and a hill hidden within the expanse of the mountain’s ridge; and there he lived, far removed from the tumults of the city and from all the disturbances and clamor of military service and the law courts. Having freed himself from all the entanglements that encompass human life, he cared for certain old men who lived together in poverty and infirmity, judging that such an occupation was not at odds with his own rule of life. By hunting, therefore (since he was most skillful at every kind of hunting craft), he sought food for the old men, and by these labors he likewise tamed his own youth; nor did he for this reason cease to obey his mother’s will with a ready mind, whenever anything was commanded by her, rightly ordering his life with a double endeavor: both to extinguish the fervor of youth through labor, and by obeying his mother to struggle towards God along the straight path through the divine commandments.

Thus, then, he practiced philosophy, and by his life he made his mother blessed, and he had passed his fifth year in this manner, while he was arming his breast with temperance and obeying his mother’s will with all his strength, when a heavy and tragic blow, from the treachery of the adversary, I believe, befell his mother, or rather, brought grief and mourning upon the whole family. For the young man was suddenly snatched from life, not by any disease or any customary reason, having been carried off by an untimely death; but when he had set out for hunting, by which craft he provided the necessities of life for those worn out by old age, he was brought home dead, together with his companion and lifelong associate Chrysaphius. The mother was far away from these events, three days' journey distant from the calamity. Although she was perfect in every kind of virtue, yet when she had received so bitter a report from someone, nature, as is to be expected, prevailing, she collapsed and, being stunned, all but lost her breath along with her voice. For reason, overcome by the magnitude of the pain, succumbed, and she lay as if some noble athlete struck by an unexpected wound.

^D In this, the virtue of the great Macrina was revealed; for she not only kept herself unconquered and upright, but—

^A also braced and sustained the mother’s weakness. For she raised and refreshed her soul, which had been cast down by a most grievous misfortune, by her own invincible strength, and instructed her in fortitude and endurance.

Therefore, the mother at last resisted the sorrow, nor did she admit anything unworthy or effeminate, such as crying out against the evil, or rending her garment, or wailing, or stirring up lamentations with mournful melodies. But she waited quietly, fortified by reason, repelling the impulses of nature with those arguments which both she possessed herself and those which were brought to her by her daughter for the healing of the pain. For it was then especially that the soul of the virgin shone forth, high and exalted; for although in her too nature suffered its own—since it was a brother, and the most beloved of brothers, who had been snatched away by such a bitter kind of death—nevertheless, having risen higher than nature, she sustained her mother with her own reasoning and set her above her passion, instructing her in patience and valor by her own example. Moreover, her life, always being elevated by virtue, afforded the mother no opportunity to fret over what was lost, rather than to rejoice in the good that was seen.

^C Since, therefore, the care of nurturing the children and the concern for their education and their settlement being finished, and the greater part of the occupations of a more material life having been distributed among the children, then, as has been said, the life of the virgin became a counselor to the mother for this philosophic and immaterial way of living. Having detached her from all her habits, she led her to her own measure of humility, preparing her to become a peer to the assembly of virgins, so that she might share with them on equal terms in the same table, the same bed, and all things pertaining to life, all difference of rank being removed from their life. And such was the order of their life, and such was the height of their philosophy, and the holy manner of their living in their daily and nightly conduct, that it exceeds any power of description. For just as the souls released by death from the body are also released from the concerns of this life, so their life was separated and removed from all worldly vanity, and was fashioned after the imitation of the life of the angels. For in them no anger, no envy, no hatred, no pride, nor any other thing of that kind was seen; the desire for vain things—honor, glory, conceit, arrogance, and all such things—had been cast out. ^D Their luxury was temperance, and their glory was to be known by no one. Their wealth was their destitution, and that they had shaken off all material abundance like some dust from their bodies. They considered no study to be anything but a distraction, save what was concerned with this life. Only the meditation on divine things thrived there, and the unceasing devotion to prayer, and the continuous singing of psalms, which was extended equally with time itself, through the whole night and every day, so that for them, it was both work

^A and rest. What human power of speech, then, could adequately explain this manner of life? Their life was placed between the human and the celestial nature, sharing in both and bordering on both. For in so far as they had liberated themselves from human passions, they were superior to the human condition; yet, in so far as they were seen in a body, and were contained within a human form, and used the instruments of the senses, they yielded to the angelic and incorporeal nature. Perhaps someone might even venture to argue that their state was not inferior. For although they lived in the flesh, after the likeness of the incorporeal powers, they were not weighed down by the burden of the body; rather, their life was uplifted and elevated, journeying together with the heavenly powers. The time spent in such a way of life was not short; and as time went on, their accomplishments increased, as the pursuit of wisdom was always reaching forward toward greater purity of soul through the addition of newly discovered goods.

^B There was, moreover, a brother of theirs, born of the same womb, who was of great help in attaining this noble goal of life. His name was Peter, the one in whom our mother’s labor pains ceased. For he was the last sprout of those pangs, and was called both a son and an orphan; for at the very time he came into the light, our father departed from this life. The eldest of the sisters, of whom this narrative speaks, having taken him from his nurse's breast shortly after his birth, herself immediately reared him and educated him with excellent discipline, instructing him in sacred learning from infancy, so that she left him no leisure to incline his soul toward anything vain. Indeed, ^C becoming everything to the youth—father, teacher, tutor, mother, and counselor in every good thing—she fashioned him in such a way that, before he had yet passed out of the age of childhood, while still a boy blossoming in the tenderness of his years, he was raised to the high goal of philosophy. And by a certain natural good fortune, he was so adept at every manual art that, without any guide, he achieved through the perfection of his own care the mastery of those things which others learn from masters only with much time and labor. He, therefore, having spurned the occupations of secular studies, and possessing a mind apt for receiving all good learning, always looking to his sister, whom he had proposed to himself as the goal of every good, ^D made such progress in virtue that in his later life he was judged to be in no way inferior to the great Basil in excellence. At that time, however, he was everything to his sister and mother, working with them toward that angelic life.

Once, when a severe shortage and famine were occurring, and many people, excited by the reputation for beneficence, were streaming from all sides to that retreat where they dwelt, he provided food for the poor by his own industry to such an extent that, because of the multitude of those arriving, that place seemed not to be a wilderness, but a city. In this life, reaching a flourishing old age, she

^A departed to God, having surrendered her life in the hands of her two children.

It is fitting to record the voice of the blessing which she used for her children, mentioning each of those who were not present as if to a friend, so that not one might be deprived of the blessing; and especially she commended those who were present to God through prayer. For as these two were sitting by her on either side of the bed ^B, she touched each of her children with one hand, and spoke these last words to God: "To you, O Lord, I offer as first fruits and tithe the fruit of my womb. This firstborn daughter holds the place for me of the first fruits, and this youngest son the place of the tithe. By the law, both are yours, and they are your gifts. Therefore, may sanctification come upon this, my first product, and upon this, my tenth," she said, indicating with her gestures the daughter and the son.

Having thus ceased to bless, she ceased also to live, having instructed her children that they should deposit her body in the ancestral tomb. Those who fulfilled what had been commanded held themselves to a higher philosophy, always contending toward their own life, and concealing the achievements that had passed by those that followed.

^C In this time, the great and holy Basil was declared primate of the great Church of the Caesareans, who led his brother into the rank of the priesthood, having consecrated him with his own mystical priestly rites. And in this, their course of life advanced once more toward a more solemn and holy state, since the dignity of the priesthood was augmented by the study of philosophy.

Eight years after this had passed, in the ninth year, Basil, renowned throughout the entire world, migrated from the company of men to God, becoming a common cause of mourning for his country and the world. ^D When the rumor of this calamity reached Macrina from afar, her soul could not but be troubled by such a loss—for who would not be touched by a grief by which even the enemies of the truth were affected? But just as they say that the testing of gold happens in various furnaces—so that if it escapes the first furnace it is tested in the second, and again in the final one all the dross mixed into the material is purged, and the exquisite proof of the finest gold is that it passes through every furnace and gives off no dross—so it happened also in her case. Her high intellect having been tested by the various assaults of grief, the incorruptible and unbowed nature of her soul was shown from every side. First, in the passing of her other brother; then, after that, in the separation from her mother; and for a third time, when the common glory of her lineage, the great Basil, was parted from human life. She remained, therefore, like an unconquered athlete, nowhere yielding to the assault of calamities.

It was the ninth month after this affliction, or a little more, when a council of bishops was gathered in the city of Antioch, in which we also participated. And since we had again departed, each to his own home, before

^A a year had passed, the desire came to me, Gregory, to go to her. ^B For a long time had intervened, during which the circumstances of my trials—which I endured everywhere in my homeland, being driven out by the leaders of the heresy—had prevented us from enjoying a mutual encounter. And as I counted the time that had passed in the interval—during which my trials had prevented me from seeing her face to face—the span did not seem small, as it measured nearly eight years.

Since, therefore, I had completed most of the journey and only a day's travel remained, a certain vision appeared to me in a dream, making manifest the judgment of the things that were to come. For I seemed to be carrying the relics of martyrs in my hands; and from them radiated a brilliance, such as comes from a clear mirror when it is placed opposite the sun, so that my eyes were blinded by the radiance of the light. Since this same vision occurred to me three times that night, I could not clearly understand the riddle of the dream, but I felt a certain sadness in my soul, and I kept watch in order to judge the dream by the outcome.

And when I came near to the retreat where she was living her angelic and heavenly life, I first asked one of those familiar with the place about my brother, whether he was present. Upon his replying that he had departed four days earlier—and realizing that he had journeyed toward us by another route—I then inquired about the Great One. When he replied that she was suffering from a certain illness, I was seized by a greater zeal, and I hurriedly covered the remaining part of the road. For my soul, shaken by a certain fear, was already sensing what was to come. But as I drew near to the place itself and the report of my arrival had already been announced to the brotherhood, the whole company of men flowed out from the men's quarters toward us; for it was their custom to honor their beloved ones by going out to meet them. And the chorus of virgins who were living a life of virginity was modestly awaiting our arrival at the church. ^C But when we had reached the end of the prayer and the blessing, and the women, having bowed their heads to receive the blessing, had decorously withdrawn to their own places—and not even one of them had remained with us—I easily surmised what was the case: that the leader was not among them. Therefore, with someone leading the way and opening the door, I entered the holy house in which the Great One resided.

She was at that time suffering severely from illness, but she was resting, not on any bed or mattress, but on the ground, with a board placed beneath her hair shirt, and another board supporting her head, which served as a bolster; this had a distinct shape and fit beneath her neck, receiving her neck gracefully into it. ^D Such was its shape that it functioned as a pillow for her head, raising it up and holding it comfortably.

When, therefore, she saw me near the doors, raising herself up on her elbow—for she could not run to meet me, her strength having already been sapped by the fever—but fixing her hands upon the floor, and stretching herself out as much as she could from her lowly pallet, she fulfilled the honor of a greeting. And I, running up and taking her by the hands, lifted her up from the ground, and

restored her to her customary posture of reclining. ^A She, stretching out her hand to God, said, “And this grace, O God, Thou hast fulfilled for me, and hast not denied me my desire; for Thou hast moved Thy servant to visit Thy handmaid.” And as if to avoid bringing any sorrow upon my soul, she suppressed her groans and struggled to conceal the difficulty of her breathing, adapting herself in every way to a more cheerful mood, both initiating pleasant discourse herself and providing us with subjects for inquiry. But when the steady flow of our conversation brought us to the mention of the great Basil, my soul was troubled, and my face sagged with sadness, and tears flowed from my eyes. ^B Yet she was so far from being cast down with us by the same agitation that, taking the memory of the saint as an opportunity for higher philosophy, she discoursed at length, naturalizing human existence and revealing the divine economy hidden in what is grievous. She spoke of the life to come as if inspired by the Holy Spirit, so that my soul, nearly transported out of human nature by being raised up by what was said, seemed to be placed within the heavenly sanctuaries by the guidance of her discourse.

And just as we hear in the history of Job, that although his whole body was being consumed by the putrefaction of his wounds and by humors, he did not allow his reason to succumb to what was causing the pain, but while he felt the pain in his body, his will was in no way dulled, nor did he interrupt his discourse on higher matters—something like this I saw in that great woman. ^C Although the fever had dried up all her strength and was driving her toward death, even as the dew cools the body, she kept her mind so unhindered in its contemplation of high things that it was in no way damaged by such great infirmity. And if this composition were not to be extended to an infinite length, I would recount everything in order: how she was lifted up by her discourse as she philosophized for us on the soul, and traversed the cause of life in the flesh; why man exists, and how he is mortal; whence death comes, and what the dissolution from this into life again is. In all these things, as if inspired by the power of the Holy Spirit, she went through everything clearly and consecutively, as easily as water flowing from a fountain, ^D and borne along without any impediment down a slope.

When the discourse was finished, she said, “It is time, brother, for you to rest your body a little, for you are exhausted by the great toil of your journey.” For me, it was a great and true refreshment both to look upon her and to listen to her great words. But since this was welcome and dear to her, in order that I might appear to obey my teacher in all things, I found a pleasant resting place prepared in one of the nearby gardens, and rested under the shade of the arbor trees; but it was not possible to derive any enjoyment from the pleasant things, for my soul

^A was oppressed by the expectation of sad things. For the vision seen in sleep seemed to me to elucidate the enigma through the things appearing. For the spectacle presented was truly the relics of a holy martyr, which, though dead to sin, were made to shine by the grace of the Spirit dwelling within them. And I explained these things to one of those who were with me. But while we were expecting sad things with a downcast spirit, she, somehow conjecturing our thoughts, sent word that brought more cheerful news, bidding us be of good courage and to conceive better hopes concerning her; for she had sensed that her malady was turning for the better. These things were not said to deceive us, but ^B truly, although at that time we were ignorant of it. For in truth, just as some runner, having outdistanced an opponent and already reached the goal of the stadium, approaching the prize and seeing the victory crown, rejoices as if he were already in possession of the things set before him, and brings the joyful news of victory to himself and the more well-disposed of the spectators; so she, being in such a state of mind, indicated to us that we should hope for better things for her; already looking toward the prize of the upward calling, and *saying almost those same words of the Apostle concerning herself: "Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the just Judge will award to me,"* since "I have fought the good fight, and I have finished the course, and I have kept the faith."

Therefore, being refreshed by the report of good things, we arose so that we might enjoy the things present; but these were varied, and an arrangement full of joy. For up to this point she had descended with great zeal; but when we had again come into her presence, she did not permit the time to be wasted ^C in vain, but, taking up the memory of the things lived from her youth, she recounted everything in order as if from a script, not omitting those things which she remembered concerning the life of our parents, and those things which had happened either before or after my birth. The goal of her narrative, however, was to give thanks to God. For she demonstrated that the life of the parents themselves was not so much famous and illustrious because of riches, as it was increased and piled high by divine benevolence, although the father's parents had been assailed and harassed for their confession of Christ; and the maternal grandfather had been taken away by royal indignation, and all his goods had been distributed to other masters; nevertheless, they had grown so much through faith that at that time no one was more renowned than they. ^D Moreover, although the family property had been divided in a multifaceted way according to the number of the children, yet she demonstrated that they had received such a heap of divine mercy that the portion of individual children had surpassed the wealth of their parents; for her own part, from the equal partition among the brothers, she had left nothing for herself, but had dispensed everything into the hands of the priest according to the divine command, and with God providing, her life had been such that neither then, according to the precept, did she cease to labor with her hands, nor did she ever look to man, nor place her hope of living honestly in the beneficence of anyone.

of the bounty of God, so that she never ceased to have her hands active in performing the commandments, and never looked toward any man; nor did she allow the opportunities for an honorable way of life to come to her through any human benevolence. Instead, she never turned away those who asked, nor did she make demands of those who gave, as God, in a hidden way, was increasing those small offerings from her works into a manifold harvest through His blessings. ^A And when I was recounting my own labors—the circumstances I was in, first when we were driven into exile for the faith by the Emperor Valens, and afterward when the disturbance in the churches called us to struggles and toils—she said, "Will you not cease, O Great One, from being ungratefully disposed toward divine favors? Will you not check the vice of an ungrateful soul? Will you not compare your own circumstances with those of your parents? And yet, if in this world we glorify ourselves in this very thing—that we are born of a noble family and born of honorable parents—our father during those times, while he was still young, flourished to such an extent that his glory stood firm both among his fellow citizens and in the courts of law. Later, however, though his learning extended further, his fame did not cross the borders of Pontus; for it was sufficient for him to be renowned in his homeland. But you," she said, "are celebrated by cities, peoples, and nations; and the churches send and call for you to bring help and to set things in order. Do you not see the grace? Do you not recognize the cause of such great blessings—that the prayers of your parents are raising you to this height, while you have little or no resource of your own for this?" ^B

While she was relating these things, I, for my part, was wishing that the length of the day would be extended, so that she might not cease to gladden our hearing with her sweet discourse; but the voice of those chanting the evening thanksgiving summoned me, and after having sent me off to the church, the Great One again withdrew to God in prayer. And the night passed in this way. But when day broke, it was manifest to me from the signs that the day then present was the final boundary of her life in the flesh, as the fever had consumed whatever strength of nature remained in her. But she, looking to the weakness of our mind, was contriving to lead us away from the gloomier expectation by pouring forth again those noble words, despite the small and constricted breath that remained to her afflicted soul. Then, indeed, my soul was affected in various ways by the sight ^C as it appeared: nature itself, as is fitting, was pushing me toward sadness, as I had no further hope that I would hear such a voice, and I believed that the common glory of our generation would very soon depart from human life. But my mind, from what it saw, was as if inspired by the divine, and judged that she had truly transcended common nature. For the fact that even in her final breaths she suffered no strangeness in the hope of her departure, nor showed fear at the separation of life, but with an exalted mind continued to philosophize about the things decided for her from the beginning concerning this life until her very last breath, no longer seemed to me to be human; but it seemed rather like that of some angel who, by divine providence, had assumed human form, ^D and had no connection or dependency with this mortal life, and thus admitted nothing unbecoming

in the state of her soul, nor did the flesh draw her mind down to its own passions. For this reason, it seems to me that she was then manifesting to those present that divine and pure love for the invisible Bridegroom, which she had kept hidden and nourished in the secrets of her soul, and was making public the disposition of her heart, hastening toward the One she loved so that, having been freed from the bonds of the body, she might quickly be with Him. For, in truth, as her course was toward virtue, nothing else of the pleasant things of this life turned her eye toward itself.

^B Now, the greater part of the day had already passed, and the sun was inclining toward the west; but she did not slacken the alacrity of her mind; rather, the closer she drew to her departure, the more clearly did she behold the beauty of the Bridegroom, and with greater haste she strove toward the Beloved, no longer addressing us who were present, but Him Himself, whom she embraced with fixed eyes. For her couch was turned toward the east. Ceasing, therefore, to speak with us, she spoke from that point on with God in prayer, supplicating with her hands and murmuring in such a low voice that what was said could only barely be heard by us. Yet such was the prayer that it was not doubtful that it was poured out to God, and from Him it was heard.

“You,” she said, “O Lord, have wiped away the fear of death from us. You have made the end of this life the beginning of true life for us. You deliver our bodies to sleep for a time, and raise them up again at the final trumpet. You commit our earth, which You fashioned with Your hands, to the earth as a deposit, and You reclaim what You had given, adorning our mortal and unsightly part with immortality and grace. You have delivered us from the curse and from sin, having become both for our sake. ^C You have crushed the heads of the dragon, who had seized man by the throat through the chasm of disobedience. You have opened the way for us to the resurrection, having shattered the gates of Hades and brought to naught the devil who had the power of death. You have given to those who fear You a sign, the mark of Your holy cross, for the destruction of the opposing one and for the security of our life. O eternal God, to whom I have been dedicated from my mother’s womb, whom my soul has loved with all its strength, and to whom I have consecrated both my flesh and my soul from my youth until this present time, do You ^D provide for me a shining angel who may lead me to the place of refreshment, where there is water of rest, into the bosom of the holy Fathers. You who broke the flaming sword and restored to paradise the man who was crucified with You and had fled to Your mercy, remember me also in Your kingdom; for I too have been crucified with You, having pierced my flesh with the fear of You, and having trembled at Your judgments. Let not that fearful chasm separate me from Your elect. Let not the envious one hinder my path, nor let my sins be found before Your eyes, if by reason of na-

^Atural weakness I have sinned in word, or deed, or thought. Do You who have power on earth to forgive sins, grant me remission, that I may be refreshed and may be found before You in the putting off of my body, having no stain in the form of my soul. But may my soul be received blameless and unspotted in Your hands, as incense before You." Saying these things, she also traced the sign of the cross upon her eyes, and upon her mouth, and upon her heart. But her tongue, having been gradually withered by the fever, could no longer articulate the words, and her voice failed. Wherefore, by the mere opening of her lips and the movement of her hands, we knew that she was engaged in prayer.

And while this was happening, evening having come and the light having been brought in, she suddenly opened the circle of her eyes, and looking toward the light, it was manifest that she was eager to utter the evening thanksgiving; but as her voice failed, she ^B fulfilled her intention through her heart and the movement of her hands, and her lips moved in sympathy with her inward impulse. And as she finished the thanksgiving, her hand, having been brought to her face to mark it with the sign, indicated the end of the prayer, and drawing a great and deep breath, she finished her life along with her prayer.

Since she was now lifeless and motionless, I, remembering the commands which she had given me at our very first meeting, when she said that she wished my hands to close her eyes and to perform the customary service to her mouth, I applied my hand, which was numb from the suffering, to her holy face, lest I should seem to neglect her command rather than because such a service was necessary for her eyes; for they were, as happens in natural sleep, becomingly covered by the eyelids. Her lips were likewise closed, her hands were gracefully laid upon her breast, and the whole position of her body was automatically disposed with such decorum that it stood in no need of the hands of those who would arrange it. ^C

My own soul, however, was doubly distressed; I looked upon what was present, and my hearing was beset by the wailing of the virgins. For until then they had persevered in silence, and, enclosing their sorrow within their souls, they had stifled the impulse of the lamentation out of fear of her, as if fearing the rebuke of her who was now silent, lest, if any voice should break forth from them contrary to what had been prescribed, their teacher might be pained by what was happening. But when the sorrow could no longer be held back by silence, as if a fire were inwardly consuming their souls, a bitter and uncontrollable cry suddenly burst forth; so that my reason could no longer remain steadfast, but, as if overwhelmed by the rush of a torrent, it was carried away by the commotion ^D and surrendered itself entirely to the lamentations. And the cause for the mourning and weeping seemed to me, in a way, just and reasonable for the virgins; for they did not mourn [out] of custom or any human guidance, or other

^A things of this sort for which men generally fret under their calamities; but as if they had been cut off from their hope in God and the salvation of their souls, they lived thus, and thus they wailed in their lamentations, saying: "The light of our eyes is extinguished; the light which led our souls on their journey has been snatched away; the protection of our life is scattered, the pattern of integrity is taken away; the bond of concord is severed, the staff of the weak is broken, the healing of the sick is removed. Under your guidance, night was for us in place of day, illuminated by the splendor of your life; but now, even the day will be turned into darkness." More severely than the others, those who called her their mother and nurse kindled their grief. For these were the ones whom, in a time of famine and want, she had gathered up, cast out as they were upon the roads, and had nursed and reared, and guided toward a pure and incorrupt life. ^B

But after I had gathered my soul as if from some depth of anguish, and fixed the gaze of my eyes upon that holy head, as if rebuked by her because of the unseemly clamor of those who were tumultuous in their mourning, I cried out with a loud voice, calling to the virgins: "Look to her," I said, "and remember her precepts, by which you were instructed by her toward all beauty and honesty. That divine soul prescribed for us a single time for tears, commanding us to do this when we were at leisure for prayer: which you can now even perform, changing the clamor of lamentation into the pious chanting of psalms." This I said with as loud a voice as I could, so that I might overcome the noise of those lamenting; then I encouraged them to withdraw to the nearby house, leaving behind only a few whose service she had more gladly used while she was alive.

In this number was a certain woman, most noble, ^C who in youth had been illustrious in wealth, and birth, and in bodily beauty, and in other respects. She had been joined in marriage to a certain very honorable man, but had lived with him only for a short time. Therefore, being released from wedlock, she had chosen the great Macrina as the guardian and mistress of her widowhood, and she associated much with the virgins, that she might learn from them the way of living rightly and according to virtue. Vestiana was the woman's name, whose father was Araxius, one of the number of those belonging to the senate of the high council. To her I said: "Now, indeed, it will not be invidious if we bestow a more splendid adornment upon the deceased, and clothe that pure and immaculate flesh with brighter garments." But she replied that it was necessary to learn what had been approved by that holy woman in this matter; for it was not right, she said, for anything to be done by us contrary to her will. For certainly, that which was pleasing and acceptable to God would be delightful to her as well. ^D

There was a certain woman set over the choir of virgins in the rank of service, Lampadia by name, who said she knew clearly her opinion regarding funeral processions.

^A She, being interrogated by me on these matters (for she happened to be present by design), replied with tears: "The holy one prepared for herself an ornament by living purely and integrily, which would decorate both her life and her burial: for as regards the adornment of the body, she neither accepted it while she lived, nor did she reserve it for this use. Wherefore, not even if we desired it is it possible, since there is no such equipment at hand." "Is there nothing," I asked, "stored away, with which proper funeral rites could be adorned?" "What," she said, "do you call 'stored away'? You have everything that is set aside in your hands: behold the pallium, behold the head-covering, the worn-out shoes of her feet; these are her riches, this is her substance. Nothing beyond what you see lies hidden in chests or locked in chambers. She knew of but one storehouse for her own wealth, the heavenly treasury; there she deposited everything, leaving nothing upon the earth."

"What then," I said to her, "if I should bring something from what I have prepared for the burial; will she think it an unwanted act on this account?" She replied that she did not think this would be against her will. "For even if she were living," she said, "she would not reject such an honor from you, both because of the dignity of the priesthood which she always venerated, and because of the bond of nature; for she would not consider that which came from her brother to be alien to her. For this reason, she also commanded that her body be adorned by your hands."

^B When this had been determined, and it was necessary to shroud that sacred body in linen cloths, we divided the task among us, each thinking of what he might do for her. And I indeed ordered one of my own attendants to bring a garment; but the aforementioned Vetiana, adorning that holy head with her own hands, when she had placed her hand under her neck, "Behold," she said, looking at me, "what kind of necklace ornament hangs from the neck of the holy one." And saying this, having loosened the fastening from behind, she reached out her hand and showed us the form of a cross made of iron, and a certain ring of the same material; both of which, suspended from a thin cord, had always clung to her heart. And I said, "Let the possession be common. You indeed take the protection of the cross; for me, the inheritance of the ring will suffice," for on its seal the cross was also engraved. Looking intently at it, the woman said to me again, "Your choice of this treasure has not been mistaken. For the ring is hollowed out beneath the bezel, and within it a particle of the wood of life is hidden; and thus the seal above points to what lies beneath by its own image."

^C But when the time required that the chaste body be covered with the garment, a duty that necessarily fell to me by the command of that great soul, and while she was present and handling at the same time those things which, along with me, she had shared in that great inheritance, "Do not omit," she said, "to contemplate the magnitude of the miracle perfectly achieved by this holy one." "What is that?" I said. But she, having bared a portion of the chest,

^A observed, "Do you see this thin and faint mark beneath the surface of the skin?" It resembled a mark made by a thin needle. And at the same time, she brought the lamp closer to the place she was showing me. "What is wonderful," I said, "if the body is marked in this part with some faint sign?" "This too," she said, "remains upon the body as a memorial ^B of the great help of God. For when once this part had painfully swollen, and there was danger that the tumor would have to be cut, or that the evil, spreading further, would become incurable if it reached the regions about the heart, the mother often asked and implored her to admit the hand of the physician, for she said that this art also was shown by God for the salvation of men. But she, judging the baring of any part of her body to strange eyes to be more grievous than the malady itself, when evening fell, after she had completed her customary service to her mother with her own hands, entered the most holy sanctuary and prostrated herself the whole night, supplicating God for healing. And she poured out upon the earth the water falling from her eyes, and with the clay of her tears, she applied a remedy to the disease. But to her mother, who was overcome with anxiety and urging her to use a physician, she replied that it was enough to expel the disease if her mother herself would mark the place with the sign of the cross. When, therefore, the mother had placed her hand within her bosom to mark that part, the sign indeed performed its work, but the disease departed. And this small mark appeared ^C in place of the horrible tumor, and it remained until the end, so that it might be, as I believe, a token of divine aid, by which she was continually moved to give thanks to God."

After we had put an end to our labors and decorated the body with domestic resources, that ministering woman said that it was not fitting for the body, adorned in the likeness of a bride, to be placed before the eyes of the maidens. "But I have," she said, "a dark mantle from the vestments of your mother, which I believe may rightly be thrown over it, lest this holy beauty be illuminated by that external and adventitious decoration of clothing." When this opinion prevailed and the mantle was laid over it, even in her dark garment, by divine power, as I suppose, which added this grace ^D to the body, she so shone forth that, just as the vision in the dream had shown, certain rays of light seemed to beam forth from her beauty.

Meanwhile, while we were doing these things and the place was resounding with the chanting of the maidens commingled with lamentations, a report in some way spread everywhere, and all the neighbors flocked to the funeral, so that the vestibule could not contain those who were rushing in. When, therefore, the nightly vigil was completed with the chanting of psalms, as at a celebration for martyrs, and it was dawn, the multitude of men and women flowing together from every part of the surrounding district was interrupting the psalmody with their wailing. I, although my soul was distressed by the calamity, nevertheless, from the things present, as much as could be done, devoted my effort to ensure that nothing in such

^A a funeral might be wanting. And so, dividing the swarming crowd by lineage, and mingling the multitude of women with the choir of virgins, and assigning the body of men to the order of the monks, I strove to institute one fitting and harmonious order from both, as if in a gathering of those chanting psalms, aptly joined together from the common song of all.

But as the day gradually advanced, and the place at the edge became straitened by the multitude of those standing by, the bishop who presided over those regions, Araxius by name (for he was present with the entire fullness of the clergy), exhorted us to move the tabernacle slowly. For there was a sufficiently long distance of the way, and the multitude, moreover, would have been an impediment to more rapid movement. And while saying these things, he called forward all those who shared with him in the priesthood, so that by their means the body might be carried.

^B When this had been decided, and the pressing task was in hand, I, going under the bier, called upon him to support the other side; and two others, honored among the clergy, took up the rear part of the bier. Thus we went forward, holding our place, proceeding at a walking pace as was appropriate, our movement small by small. For because the people were pressed close around the bier, and because all were insatiably intent on that holy sight, it was not easy for us to complete the journey. A not small multitude of deacons and ministers preceded us on either side, walking in line before the tabernacle, all of them holding beeswax candles.

And the procession that was taking place was like a mystery, with the chanting of psalms being sung in unison from the beginning to the very end, by a triple order of singers, just as in the hymnody of the three children. And there being seven or eight stades between the edge of the cemetery and the house of the holy martyrs, in which the bodies of our ^C parents also reposed, we spent nearly the whole day in finishing the way. For the multitude, both those gathering and those constantly arriving, did not allow the journey to proceed according to our intention.

When, therefore, we were established within the house, having set down the bier, we turned first to prayer; but the prayer became an occasion of mourning for the people. For when the psalmody was silenced, once the virgins looked upon that holy face and the tomb of the parents was now opened, in which it had been decided to lay her, a certain one of them cried out in disorder that we would no longer behold this God-like face after this hour. As the rest of the virgins likewise cried out with her, a disorderly confusion disrupted that orderly and holy psalmody, for the spirits of all were broken by the wailing of the virgins. But with difficulty, as we signaled for silence, and the herald led the prayer and ^D shouted out the customary voices to the Church, the people were at last composed to the form of prayer.

^A But when the prayer had finished its proper course, a certain fear came over me as I considered that commandment which forbids us to uncover the nakedness of father or mother. "And how," I said, "shall I escape this judgment, if I should behold upon the bodies of my parents the common nakedness of human nature, which it is likely has fallen away and dissolved, and has been changed into a shameful and repulsive deformity?" While I was reflecting on these things, and the indignation of Noah against his son further heightened my fear, the story of Noah itself advised me what needed to be done. For before the bodies were exposed to our eyes, they were covered with a clean linen sheet; for when the lid had been removed from one end to the other, the cloth was thrown over, and the bodies of our parents having been thus hidden by the linen, I and that bishop of the region whom I mentioned, taking the body from the bier, placed it beside our mother, and thus we fulfilled the vow of both; for with one consent they had always prayed to God that their bodies might be joined together after death, so that the union which had existed between them in life might not be sundered even in death itself.

^B When all the rites customary at a funeral had been duly performed for us, and the time had come that we must return, I threw myself upon the grave and, after kissing the dust, I departed sad and weeping, reflecting upon how great a good our life had been deprived of. But on the very journey, a certain man illustrious in military affairs, who was a leader of the army in a city of Pontus by the name of Sebastopolis, having heard of the calamity and bearing it ill, came to meet us with his retinue in a friendly manner. For he was bound to us by the bond of both kinship and friendship. He related to me a miracle concerning her, which shall be the one thing I add, and with which I will bring my writing to an end. For when we had put an end to our tears and had begun to converse, he said to me, “Listen to me,” he said, “as to what and how great a good has departed from life,” and thus he began his narrative:

^D “A desire formerly came upon me and my wife to visit with all speed the training school of virtue—for so, I think, one ought to call that place in which that blessed soul spent her days. Our young daughter was with us, whom a calamity in the form of a pestilential disease had befallen regarding her eye, so that a film had grown over the pupil, and it had contracted a whiteness, making it a foul and pitiable sight. Having entered that divine house, we were separated in that place devoted to wisdom, so that I withdrew to where the men lived, over whom your brother Peter presided, while she went within to the women’s quarters, where she associated with the holy Macrina. When we had stayed there for a short time, we thought it was time to depart. And we were already preparing for our departure, when a certain human impulse came upon us from both sides. For your brother was bidding me to remain and study...

at the table of philosophy; and the blessed one would not let my wife go, but, holding the little daughter in her bosom, she said she would not restore her until she had set a table for them and entertained them with the wealth of philosophy. While kissing the child, as is natural, and bringing her mouth to her eyes, when she saw the affliction of the little girl, she said, "If you grant me the favor and share our table with us, I will give you a reward for such honor that is not unworthy." The child’s mother asked, "What is this?" The Great One replied, "I have a medicine to cure this affliction of the eye." And on these conditions, a sign having come to me from the women’s quarters indicating that she would keep that promise, we gladly remained, setting aside the necessity of departing that urged us on.

^B When the banquet had come to an end, and our prayer was complete—with the great Peter having entertained us with his own hands and cheered us, and the holy Macrina having refreshed our partner with every becoming delight—we set out on the same road, happy and joyful, each of us narrating to the other what had happened to him on the journey. I was recounting the things from the men’s quarters, as much as I had seen and heard; and she, in turn, recounting each thing one by one, thought that nothing, however small, should be omitted, just as in a history. And so, as she went through everything in order just as if she were reading from a written text, when she had reached that part which contained the promise of the healing of the eye, she broke off the narrative: "What," she said, "have we suffered? How have we neglected the promise she made us, that medicine promised in the form of an ointment?" And while I joined in censuring the negligence and was bidding someone to run quickly to ask for the medicine, the infant who was in the foster-mother’s arms looked toward her mother; and the mother, fixing her gaze upon the infant’s eyes, said, "Cease, [brother], to be vexed at the negligence." ^C This she said in a loud voice, accompanied by joy and amazement at once. "For look, nothing of what was promised to us has been left out; but that true medicine of hers, that healer of ailments which is healing through prayer, she has given, and it has already become effective, and there is no part of the affliction of the eye remaining, for it has been cleansed by that divine medicine." And while speaking these things, she herself embraced the child and placed her into my hands. And I then, taking into my mind the miracles narrated in the Gospel which are thought incredible, said, "What is so great about the blind having received the power of sight by the hand of God, when now His handmaid, by the faith in Him, accomplishes those very healings? For we behold the work, which is not much inferior to those miracles." ^D While I was saying these things, a sob interrupted my voice, and a flood of tears followed as I told the story—these things, I mean, from the soldier.

But as for those other such things that I heard from those who lived with her and who knew her life with precision, I do not believe it is safe to add them to the narrative; for most people, in proportion to that...