Sermons to the People 273.1–277.2

The Lord Jesus not only instructed his martyrs by precept but also strengthened them by example. For so that those about to suffer might have something to follow, he suffered first for them: he showed the road and made the way. Death is either of the soul or of the body. But the soul cannot die, and can die: it cannot die, because its sense never perishes; but it can die, if it loses God. For as the soul itself is the life of its body, so God is the life of the soul. As, then, the body dies when the soul, that is, its life, has left it, so the soul dies when God has left it. But so that God may not leave the soul, let it always be in faith, so as not to fear death for God; and it does not die left by God. It remains, then, that the death which is feared is feared for the body. But even there the Lord Christ made his martyrs secure. For how could they be uncertain about the wholeness of their members, who had received security about the number of their hairs? “The hairs of your head,” he says, “are numbered.” And in another place he says more openly: “For I tell you that not a hair of your head will perish.” The Truth has spoken: does weakness tremble?

Blessed are the saints at whose memorials we celebrate the day of their passion: they received for temporal health an eternal crown, immortality without end; to us they left exhortation in these solemnities. When we hear how the martyrs suffered, we rejoice and glorify God in them; nor do we grieve that they died. For if they had not died for Christ, would they be alive to this day? Why should confession not do what sickness would have done? You heard the questions of the persecutors, you heard the answers of the confessors, when the passion of the saints was read. Among other things, what was that answer of blessed Fructuosus the bishop like? When someone said to him, and asked that he keep him in mind and pray for him, he answered: “I must pray for the Catholic Church, spread from east to west.” For who prays for individuals? But he who prays for all passes over none of the individuals. No member is passed over by him whose prayer is poured out for the whole body. What, then, does it seem to you that he admonished the man who asked him to pray for him? What do you think? Without doubt you understand. Let us remind you. He asked him to pray for him. “And I,” he says, “pray for the Catholic Church, spread from east to west.” If you want me to pray for you, do not withdraw from her for whom I pray.

What, too, was that answer of the holy deacon who suffered and was crowned with his bishop? The judge said to him: “Do you also worship Fructuosus?” And he: “I do not worship Fructuosus, but I worship God, whom Fructuosus also worships.” In this way he admonished us to honor the martyrs, and with the martyrs to worship God. For we ought not to be such as we grieve that the pagans are. And indeed they worship dead men. For all those whose names you hear, to whom temples have been built, were men; and many of them, almost all, held royal power in human affairs. You hear of Jupiter, you hear of Hercules, you hear of Neptune, you hear of Pluto, Mercury, Liber, and the rest: they were men. These things are declared not only in the tales of the poets but also in the history of the nations. Those who have read it know; those who have not read it, let them believe those who have. Those men, then, won human affairs over to themselves by certain temporal benefits, and began to be worshiped by vain men following vain things in such a way that they were called gods and held to be gods; temples were built to them as to gods, supplication was made to them as to gods, altars were built to them as to gods, priests were ordained for them as for gods, victims were sacrificed to them as to gods.

But only the true God should have a temple; sacrifice should be offered to the true God alone. These things, then, which are duly and wholly owed to the one true God, wretched men, deceived, were offering to many false gods. Hence perverse error besieged human misery; hence the devil lay upon the prostrate minds of all. But when the grace of the Savior and the mercy of God at last looked upon the unworthy, there was fulfilled what was prophetically foretold in the Song of Songs: “Arise, north wind; and come, south wind; and blow through my garden, and its spices will flow.” It was as it were said, “Arise, north wind.” For the northern part of the world is cold. Under the devil, as under the north wind, souls grew cold, and, having lost the warmth of charity, froze. But what is said to it? “Arise, north wind.” It is enough that you have lain upon them, enough that you have possessed them, enough that you have reclined upon the prostrate: arise. “Come, south wind,” the wind from the region of light and warmth, “and blow through my garden, and its spices will flow.” These spices were being read a little while ago.

What are these spices? Those of which the Lord’s bride herself says: “After the fragrance of your ointments we shall run.” Mindful of this fragrance, the apostle Paul says: “We are the good fragrance of Christ in every place, both among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.” A great sacrament: “We are the good fragrance of Christ in every place, both among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing. To some indeed a fragrance of life unto life, to others a fragrance of death unto death. And who is fit for these things?” How does a good fragrance quicken some and kill others? A good fragrance, not a bad one. For he does not say, “A good fragrance quickens the good, and a bad fragrance kills the bad.” He does not say, “To some we are a good fragrance unto life, to others a bad fragrance unto death.” He does not say this, but: “We are the good fragrance of Christ in every place.” Woe to the wretches whom a good fragrance kills. If, then, you are a good fragrance, O Paul, why does this fragrance kill some and quicken others? That it quickens some, I hear, I understand; that it kills others, I grasp with difficulty: especially because you said, “And who is fit for these things?” It is no wonder that we are not fit. May he make us fit whose fragrance it was of which we are speaking. For the Apostle answers me quickly: Understand: “We are the good fragrance of Christ in every place, both among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.” We are nonetheless a good fragrance: to some a fragrance of life unto life, to others a fragrance of death unto death. This fragrance quickens those who love, kills those who envy. For if there were no glory of the saints, the envy of the ungodly would not arise. The fragrance of the saints began to suffer persecution; but like flasks of ointment, the more they were broken, the more widely the fragrance was spread.

Blessed are those whose passion has been recited. Blessed holy Agnes, whose day of passion is today. A virgin who was what she was called. Agnes in Latin means a lamb; in Greek, chaste. She was what she was called: rightly she was crowned. What then, my brothers, what shall I say to you about those men whom the pagans worshiped as gods, to whom they offered temples, priesthoods, altars, sacrifices? What shall I say to you? That they are not to be compared with our martyrs? Even to say this is an insult. With any of the faithful, however weak, of whatever kind, even those still carnal and to be fed on milk, not solid food, far be it that those sacrilegious ones should be compared. Against one little old Christian woman of the faithful, what is Juno worth? Against one weak Christian old man, trembling in all his limbs, what is Hercules worth? Hercules conquered Cacus, Hercules conquered the lion, Hercules conquered the dog Cerberus: Fructuosus conquered the whole world. Compare the man with the hero. Agnes, a girl of thirteen, conquered the devil. This girl conquered him who deceived many by means of Hercules.

And yet, dearly beloved, our martyrs, with whom those gods are in no way to be compared, we do not hold to be gods, we do not worship as gods. We offer them no temples, no altars, no sacrifices. Priests do not offer to them; these things are offered to God, from whom all things are granted to us. Even when we offer at the memorials of the holy martyrs, do we not offer to God? The holy martyrs have a place of honor. Notice: in the recitation at the altar of Christ they are recited in a better place; yet they are not adored in place of Christ. When have you heard it said at the memorial of Saint Theogenes, by me, or by any brother and colleague of mine, or by any presbyter: “I offer to you, Saint Theogenes”? Or “I offer to you, Peter”? Or “I offer to you, Paul”? You have never heard it. It is not done; it is not lawful. And if it is said to you, “Do you worship Peter?” answer what Eulogius answered about Fructuosus: “I do not worship Peter, but I worship God, whom Peter also worships.” Then Peter loves you. For if you want to hold Peter as God, you stumble against the rock; and see that you do not break your foot by stumbling against the rock. [8] So that you may know that what I say is true, hear; I admonish you. In the Acts of the Apostles, when the apostle Paul had worked a great miracle in Lycaonia, the citizens of that region or province thought that gods had come down to men, and believed that Barnabas was Jupiter and Paul Mercury, because he was the readiest in speech. Believing this, they brought garlands and victims and wanted to offer sacrifice to them. They at once did not laugh but were terrified; they at once tore their garments and said to them: “Brothers, what are you doing? We too are men subject to suffering like you; but we announce to you the true God. Turn from these vain things.” You see how the saints shuddered at being worshiped as gods. Likewise blessed John the evangelist, who wrote the Apocalypse, when he was astonished at the wonders shown him, in terror at one point fell at the feet of the angel by whom everything was shown him. And the angel, with whom no man is to be compared, said to him: “Rise, what are you doing? Worship God. For I am your fellow servant, and of your brothers.” The martyrs hate your flasks, the martyrs hate your frying pans, the martyrs hate your drunken revels. I say it without wrong to those who are not such: let those who do such things take it to themselves. The martyrs hate these things; they do not love those who do them. But they hate it much more if they are worshiped.

So, dearly beloved, exult on the days of the holy martyrs: pray that you may follow in the footsteps of the martyrs. For it is not that you are men and they were not men; it is not that you were born and they were born from elsewhere; for they did not carry flesh of another kind than you carry. We are all from Adam; all are striving to be in Christ. Our Lord himself, the very head of the Church, the only-begotten Son of God, the Word of the Father through whom all things were made, had flesh of no other kind than ours. That is why he willed to take on manhood from a virgin, to be born of flesh from one of the human race. For if he made himself a body from elsewhere, who would believe that he carried the flesh which we too carry? But yet he had flesh in the likeness of sinful flesh, we sinful flesh. For he was not from a man’s seed, or from the concupiscence of male and female: but from what? From the Father’s announcement. And yet, though wonderfully born, he deigned to be born mortal, and to die for us, and to redeem us by his blood, according as he is man. See what I am saying, brothers: even Christ himself, though he is God, though he is one God with the Father, though he is the Word of the Father, only-begotten, equal to the Father and coeternal; yet insofar as he deigned to be man, he preferred to be called priest rather than to demand a priest for himself; he preferred to be the sacrifice rather than to require one; insofar as he is man. For insofar as he is God, everything owed to the Father is owed also to the only-begotten Son. So, dearly beloved, venerate the martyrs, praise, love, proclaim, honor them: worship the God of the martyrs. Turning to the Lord, etc.

We have watched a great spectacle with the eyes of faith: the holy martyr Vincent conquering everywhere. He conquered in words, he conquered in punishments; he conquered in confession, he conquered in tribulation; he conquered burned by fire, he conquered sunk beneath the waves; finally, he conquered tortured, he conquered dead. When his flesh, in which was the trophy of Christ the victor, was thrown from a boat into the sea, it was silently saying: “We are cast down, but we do not perish.” Who gave this patience to his soldier, if not he who first shed his blood for him? To whom it is said in the Psalm: “For you are my patience, O Lord; Lord, my hope from my youth.” A great contest wins a great glory; not human, nor temporal, but divine and everlasting. Faith fights; and when faith fights, no one conquers the flesh. For even if it is torn, even if it is mangled, when does he perish who has been redeemed by the blood of Christ? A powerful man cannot lose what he bought with his gold, and does Christ lose what he bought with his blood? But let all this be referred not to the glory of man but to that of God. From him indeed is patience, true patience, holy patience, devout patience, right patience: Christian patience is the gift of God. For many robbers too are tortured with great patience, and, not yielding and overcoming the torturer, are afterward punished with eternal fire. The cause distinguishes the martyr from the patience, or rather the hardness, of criminals. The punishment is equal, but the cause is unequal. We sang with the voice of the martyrs (for Vincent had said these words in his prayers): “Judge me, O God, and distinguish my cause from an unholy nation.” His cause was distinguished, because he fought for truth, for justice, for God, for Christ, for the faith, for the unity of the Church, for undivided charity. Who gave him this patience? Who? Let the Psalm tell us. For there it is read, there it is sung: “Will not my soul be subject to God? For from him is my patience.” Whoever thinks that Saint Vincent could do these things by his own strength is greatly mistaken. For whoever presumes he can do this by his own strength, even if he seems to conquer by patience, is conquered by pride. To conquer well is this: to conquer all the devices. When the enemy supplies enticements, he is conquered by continence; when he inflicts punishments and torments, he is conquered by patience; when he suggests errors, he is conquered by wisdom. Finally, when all these have been conquered, he suggests to the soul: “Well done, well done! How much you were able! How much you fought! Who is compared to you? How well you conquered!” Let the holy soul answer him: “Let them be put to shame and turned back who say to me, Well done, well done.” When, then, does it conquer, except when it says, “In the Lord my soul shall be praised; let the meek hear and be glad”? For the meek know what I am saying, because in them the word dwells, in them the example dwells. For he who is not meek does not know the savor of what was said, “In the Lord my soul shall be praised.” For everyone not meek, proud, harsh, puffed up, wants to be praised in himself, not in the Lord. But he who says, “In the Lord my soul shall be praised,” does not say, “Let the nations hear and be glad,” “Let men hear and be glad,” but, “Let the meek hear and be glad.” Let those hear to whom it has savor. For Christ was meek: “Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter.” “Let the meek hear and be glad,” because they savor what was said: “Taste and see how sweet the Lord is: blessed is the man who hopes in him.” We have heard a long reading; the day is short; we ought not to hold your patience with a long sermon too. We know that you have listened patiently, and by standing and listening long have as it were suffered with the martyr. May he who hears you love you and crown you.

Our mind has taken in a great and much to be wondered at spectacle: not an utterly empty and most harmful pleasure, as usually in the theaters of all sorts of trifles, but a plainly most useful and most fruitful pleasure we have drunk with the inner eyes, when the glorious passion of blessed Vincent was read. One could see the unconquered soul of the Martyr struggling with the sharpest conflict against the snares of the ancient enemy, against the cruelty of the ungodly judge, against the pains of the mortal flesh, and overcoming all with the Lord’s help. So it plainly was, dearly beloved, so it entirely was: let us praise this soul in the Lord, “that the meek may hear and be glad.” What words he heard, what he gave back, what torments he overcame, the reading that has been gone through has declared, and has set before us as if in our sight what was done. There was such punishment in his members, such security in his words, as if one were being tortured and another were speaking. And truly another: for the Lord foretold this and promised it to his martyrs, saying: “It is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father who speaks in you.” In the Lord, then, let this soul be praised. For what is man, except that he is mindful of him? Or what strength has dust, except with the help of him who made us from dust? “So that whoever glories may glory in the Lord.” For if the diabolical and seducing spirit often fills either lying seers or his false martyrs, so that they either inflict bodily torments on themselves or despise those inflicted: what great thing is it for the Lord our God, to confirm the preaching of his name, to hand over the flesh of those very preachers into the hands of the persecutors, but to take up their mind into the citadel of freedom; so that even while the flesh suffers iniquity, the mind asserts truth? Namely, so that he makes them victors not by endurance but by justice: since the cause, not the punishment, distinguishes martyrs. For many have endured pains by obstinacy, not constancy; by vice, not virtue; by perverse error, not right reason; with the devil possessing them, not persecuting them. But in our Vincent, conquering, he indeed conquered who possessed him; but he possessed him who had cast out the prince of this world, so that he who had already been overcome, lest he rule within, might be overcome even as he fought from outside. For he who was cast out does not cease to go about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. But he fights him for us who, having shut him out, reigns in us.

In the end the devil was more tortured, Vincent not being conquered, than Vincent was, with the devil persecuting him. For the more savage and exquisite those torments were, the more the tortured man triumphed over the torturer; and from that flesh, as from earth watered with his own blood, over which the enemy grieved the more, the palm grew. But since the devil rages in hidden ways and, once conquered, is afflicted in hidden ways, what the devil was suffering in secret appeared openly in the governor, a man; and that invisible adversary was betrayed through the little cracks of his vessel, which he had filled, as it burst. For this man’s cries, eyes, face, and the turbulent movement of his whole body showed how much heavier the torments were that he felt within than those he inflicted on the Martyr without. If we consider the agitation of the torturer and the tranquillity of the one suffering torments, it is very easy to see who was under the punishments and who above them. What joys will there be in the power of those reigning, when there are such joys for those dying for the truth? What will the fountain of life be with the incorruption of the body, when its dew is so sweet amid torments? And what will the eternal flame do to the ungodly, whom the madness of an angry heart so lays waste? What will they suffer when they are judged, who are tormented already when they judge? What power will the future judgments of the saints have, when in this life the Martyr’s rack tortured the judge’s tribunal?

And the Lord gives great testimony to his witnesses, when he who ruled the hearts of those contending does not abandon even the bodies of the dead: as he showed a most splendid miracle concerning the body of this same blessed Vincent, so that what the enemy had wanted, labored, and acted that it should not appear at all, was revealed by so present a divine nod, and was shown to be buried and venerated more devoutly, so that in it the splendid memory of victorious piety and conquered impiety might endure. Truly “precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints”: when not even the earth of the flesh is despised when life departs from it; and when the invisible soul departs from the visible house, the dwelling of the servant is guarded by the Lord’s care and honored by faithful fellow servants for the Lord’s glory. For what does God do in working wonderful works around the bodies of dead saints, except bear witness that what dies does not perish for him; and so that it may be understood from this in what honor he holds with himself the souls of the slain, when lifeless flesh is adorned with so great an effect of divinity? For as the Apostle, speaking of the members of the Church, used a likeness from the members of our body, that “those that are less honorable in us we surround with more abundant honor”: so the providence of the Creator, by granting such splendid testimonies of miracles to the corpses of the martyrs, surrounds with more abundant honor the bloodless remains of men; and in what remains, as it were unsightly now that life has departed, the giver of life appears more evidently present.

In the passion which was recited to us today, my brothers, there is plainly shown a fierce judge, a bloody torturer, an unconquered Martyr. In his body, furrowed with various punishments, the torments had already given out and the members still held out. Ungodliness, convicted by so many miracles, persisted; weakness, harassed by so many tortures, did not yield: let divinity, then, be recognized as at work. For when would corruptible dust hold out against such enormous torments, unless the Lord dwelt in it? For in all these things he is to be recognized, he is to be glorified, he is to be praised, who both in the first calling gave faith and in the final passion gave strength. Do you want to know that both were given? Hear the apostle Paul: “To you,” he says, “it has been given for Christ’s sake not only to believe in him but also to suffer for him.” The levite Vincent had received both of these; he had received and he had them. For if he had not received them, what would he have? He had boldness in speech, he had endurance in suffering. Let no one, then, presume on his own heart when he utters a speech; let no one trust in his own strength when he undergoes temptation: because both our speaking good things wisely is from him, our wisdom, and our bearing evil things bravely is from him, our patience. Recall the Lord Christ admonishing his disciples in the Gospel; recall the King of martyrs equipping his cohorts with spiritual arms, showing them the wars, supplying help, promising rewards: who, when he had said to his disciples, “In this world you will have distress,” at once added how the frightened might be consoled, saying, “But take courage: I have conquered the world.” Why then do we marvel, dearly beloved, if Vincent conquered in him by whom the world was conquered? “In this world,” he says, “you will have distress”: so that if it presses, it does not crush; if it assails, it does not overcome. [2] The world brings out a double battle line against the soldiers of Christ. Notice, brothers. A double battle line, I said, the world brings out against the soldiers of Christ. For it flatters in order to deceive; it terrifies in order to break. Let our own pleasure not hold us, let another’s cruelty not terrify us; and the world is conquered. At both approaches Christ meets us, and the Christian is not conquered. If human patience is considered in this passion, it begins to be incredible; if divine power is recognized, it ceases to be wonderful. Such cruelty raged in the Martyr’s body, and such tranquillity came forth in his voice; such harshness of punishments raged in his members, and such security sounded in his words, that in a wonderful way we might think that, while Vincent was suffering, another, not the one speaking, was being tortured. And truly, brothers, so it was; entirely so it was: another was speaking. For Christ promised this too to his witnesses in the Gospel, whom he was preparing for contests of this kind. For he says: “Do not think beforehand how or what you are to speak. For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father who speaks in you.” So the flesh suffered, and the Spirit spoke. And with the Spirit speaking, not only was ungodliness refuted, but weakness also was strengthened.

So many torments made the Martyr more illustrious to us. Pierced by a manifold variety of wounds, he did not abandon the fight but renewed it more keenly. You would have thought that the flame hardened him rather than burned him; and that, like a potter’s furnace taking soft clay, it made it into hard earthenware. Our Martyr could have said to Dacian: “Now your fire does not burn my flesh, because my strength has dried up like a potsherd.” And since it is truly written, “The furnace tests the potter’s vessels, and the trial of tribulation tests just men,” Vincent was tested and fired in that fire; but Dacian burned and cracked. For if he was not burning, why was he shouting? What were the words of the angry man but the smoke of one burning? So he brought flames from outside to our Martyr, who had refreshment in his heart; but he himself, kindled by the torches of fury, was burning within like an oven, and was burning up his inhabitant, the devil. For through Dacian’s furious cries, through his savage eyes and threatening face and the movement of his whole body, that inner inhabitant of his was shown; and through these visible signs he was seen as through the little cracks of his vessel, which he had filled, as it burst. The torments did not torture the Martyr as much as madness laid waste the persecutor.

But now, brothers, all those things have passed, both Dacian’s anger and Vincent’s punishment. But now punishment remains for Dacian, a crown for Vincent. Finally, having set out first these bounds of future retribution, let us show the glory of the martyrs even in this world. What region today, or what province, as far as either the Roman empire or the Christian name extends, does not rejoice to celebrate the birthday of Vincent? And who today would have heard even the name of Dacian, had he not read the passion of Vincent? And that the Lord preserved the Martyr’s body with such care, what else did it show, but that he had guided the living man whom he did not abandon when lifeless? So Vincent conquered Dacian living, and conquered him dead too. Living, he trampled on torments; dead, he swam across the seas. But he who among the claws gave him an unconquered mind steered the lifeless corpse among the waves. The torturer’s flame did not bend his heart; the sea’s water did not sink his body. But in these and all such things there is nothing else but that “precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.”

With the eyes of faith we watched the Martyr contending, and we loved him, wholly beautiful invisibly. For what beauty of spirit did he have, whose very corpse was unconquered? Living, he confessed the Lord; dead, too, he overcame the enemy. What do we think, brothers: by conferring this honor even on his dead body, did the providence and counsel of the almighty Creator bestow something on the Martyr? For what? If he were not buried, would he not know where he was to be raised from? For him both the crown in victory and eternal life in the resurrection are kept. But from his body a memorial of consolation has been granted to the Church. So God often grants to his servants from his servants by a certain condescension, giving what profits him to whom it is given more than him from whom it is given. So God fed holy Elijah by a bird; and the mercy and almightiness of God had not failed, so that he could always feed him so. Yet he is sent to a widow to be fed: not because there was no way for the servant of God to be nourished, but so that the faithful widow might deserve a blessing. So he has granted the bodies of the saints to his churches as memorials for prayers, not for the glory of the martyrs. For they have their whole glory with their Creator. Nor do they fear anything for the body itself, since there is nothing for them to fear. Rather, if they spare the body, they harm the body too. But if through faith they do not spare the body, they benefit the body too.

See, attend to this, and question your faith. If Saint Vincent had denied Christ for fear of torments, he would seem to have spared his body; but by the condition of mortality he would be released from the body. What would he do in the resurrection, when he would be hurled into eternal fire? Denying Christ, he is denied by Christ. “Whoever denies me before men,” he says, “I will deny him before my Father who is in heaven.” See, suppose he had denied: those torturers would rest, and with the soul wounded the body would be sound; indeed with the soul slain the body would live: what would the brief life of the body profit one dead forever? The day would come which the Lord mentions, when “all who are in the tombs will hear his voice and come forth”: but with a great difference. All will come forth, but not all will come forth to the same thing. All will rise, but not all will be changed. “For those who have done good,” he says, “to the resurrection of life; but those who have done evil, to the resurrection of judgment.” When he says, “all who are in the tombs,” he doubtless makes plain the resurrection of bodies. But when you hear “judgment,” do not flatter yourself as if about a temporal judgment: judgment is put for eternal punishment. In this sense it was said: “But whoever does not believe has already been judged.” This difference, then, will separate the just from the unjust, the faithful from the unbelieving, confessors from deniers, lovers of the perishing life from lovers of eternal life; that discrimination will separate them. “And the just will go into eternal life, but the ungodly into eternal fire.” There those who spared the body will be tortured with the body. For by fearing the torments of the body they spared the body; and by sparing the body they denied Christ; and by denying Christ they postponed eternal punishments for the body too. If they postponed them, did they remove them?