Homilies and Sermons 17.1–18.8

[1] Formerly the deaths of the saints were honored with lamentations and tears: Joseph wept bitterly for Jacob when he died; the Jews mourned greatly for the death of Moses as well; they honored Samuel too with many tears. But now we leap for joy at the deaths of the holy. For since the cross the nature of sorrowful things has been changed. We no longer escort the deaths of the saints with dirges, but dance in godly choirs at their tombs. For death is sleep for the righteous; or rather, a departure to a better life. Hence martyrs leap for joy while they are being slaughtered. For longing for the more blessed life makes the pain of slaughter dead. The martyr does not see the dangers but the crowns; he does not shudder at the blows but counts the prizes; he does not look at the executioners scourging him below, but pictures the angels acclaiming him from above; he does not consider how brief the dangers are, but how eternal the rewards. Even among us they already reap a splendid pledge, applauded with godly acclamations by everyone, and gathering countless people from their tombs as in a net …

[2] This indeed is what was accomplished today by the noble Barlaam. For the martyr's war trumpet sounded and gathered, as you see, the soldiers of piety. Christ's athlete, lying here, has been proclaimed, and has given wings to the theater of the Church. “He who believes in me, though he die, shall live”: the noble Barlaam has died, and he assembles festivals; he has been consumed in a tomb, and he invites us to a feast. Now is the time for us to cry out, “Where is the wise man? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age?” A rustic is our unconquered teacher of piety today … prey, but after the trial he knew him as an unconquerable man-at-arms; he laughed at him for speaking in broken words, but shuddered at him when he showed an angelic youthful daring. For his character did not share the barbarism of his tongue, nor was his reasoning seen to limp along with his syllables; he was a second Paul, saying with Paul, “Even if I am unskilled in speech, I am not in knowledge.” The executioners wore themselves out scourging him, but the martyr was found more vigorous; … the reasoning was not bent. The whips loosed the joints of his sinews, but [the strength] of faith …; the moistures [of his body] were spent, but the philosophy of his mind flourished. Most of his flesh was deadened, but he was in his prime, as if he had not yet begun the contests. For when the love of piety has first taken hold of the soul, every form of warfare becomes laughable to it, and all who tear it for the sake of what it longs for delight it rather than strike it. The longing of the apostles bears me witness, which once made the scourges of the Jews delightful to them. “For they went,” it says, “rejoicing from the presence of the council, because they had been counted worthy to suffer dishonor for his name.” Such too is the man-at-arms we praise today: regarding the punishments as gladness, thinking that the whips were pelting him with roses, slipping away from the outrages of the impiety as from arrows, reckoning the judge's anger a shadow of smoke, laughing at the savage gaping of the guards, dancing in the dangers as among crowns, leaping at the blows as at more splendid prizes, spitting on the bared swords, receiving the hands of the executioners as softer than wax, embracing the wood of punishment as a saving thing, delighting in the confinement of prisons as in meadows, rejoicing in the devices of torture as in the variety of flowers, possessing a right hand stronger than fire; which was in fact the last device his enemies brought against him. For lighting an altar for the libation to the demons, they bring the martyr and stand him beside it, and ordering him to hold his right hand palm upward over the altar, they maliciously placed burning [incense] on it. For they hoped that the hand, overpowered by the force of the fire, would of necessity soon let the incense fall on the altar. Alas for the intricate trickery of the impious! “Since,” they say, “we have not bent his will with countless wounds, let us at least bend the hand of the contentious wrestler in the flame. Since we have not shaken his soul with all sorts of devices, let us at least make his right hand waver by bringing it to fire.” But not even this hope did the wretches enjoy. The flame ate through the hand, but the hand remained, holding up the flame as if it were ashes. It did not turn its back to the warring fire like fugitives, but gave the martyr the words of the prophet to say: “Blessed be the Lord my God, who trains my hands for battle and my fingers for war.” For fire grappled with the hand, and the defeat was found to be the fire's. A wrestling match was joined between the flame and the martyr's right hand, but the victory of the right hand was a new kind of wrestling: the flame fell through the middle of the hand, while the hand was still stretched out for the bout. O hand more contentious than fire! O hand that did not learn to bend to fire! O fire, taught to be defeated by a hand! Iron yields to the tyranny of fire and is softened; bronze gives way to the power of fire; even the hardness of stones knows how to be conquered by it. But the strength of fire, which overpowers everything, did not bend the martyr's outstretched right hand by burning it.

[3] Fittingly might the martyr cry out to the Master at this: “You held my right hand, and in your counsel you guided me, and with glory you received me.” What shall I call you, noble soldier of Christ? Shall I call you a statue? I would greatly diminish your endurance. For fire softens a statue when it takes hold of it; but your right hand it could not persuade even to be seen moving. If I call you iron, I find this image too falling short of your courage. For you alone persuaded a flame not to overpower a hand; you alone made your right hand an altar; you alone with a burning right hand struck the faces of the demons, and then with a hand turned to coal you melted their heads, and now with this hand turned to ashes you blind their armies and trample them. But why do I diminish the [martyr] by childish … let us yield the hymn to him … let us call upon the grander trumpets of the teachers for him. Rise up for me now, you splendid painters of athletic exploits; magnify by your arts the mutilated image of the general. Illuminate with the colors of your wisdom the crowned victor whom I have drawn too dimly. Let me go away defeated by your painting of the martyr's feats of valor; I rejoice to be defeated today by such a victory of your power. Let me see the hand's struggle with the fire painted more exactly by you; let me see the wrestler painted more brightly in your image. Let the demons weep, struck now again by the martyr's feats of valor in you. Let the burning hand again [be shown] to them, and … to the ages of ages. Amen.

[1] It is a law of nature for bees not to leave the hive until their king leads the flight. Since, then, I see the people of the Lord now for the first time going out to the heavenly flowers, the martyrs, I look for the leader. Who set this great swarm in motion? Who changed the gloom of winter into the brightness of spring? For now for the first time the people, pouring out of the city as from hives, have occupied in a body the ornament before the city, this august and most beautiful stadium of the martyrs. Since, then, the wonder of the martyr has raised us up too, forgetting our weakness, come, let us also, with our voice as best we can, hum about the man's deeds as about a flower, doing a holy thing and giving those present … “[When the righteous are praised,] the peoples will rejoice,” the wise Solomon told us just now. And yet I was perplexed within myself what the proverb's meaning might be. Is it that, when some orator or clever speechwriter has composed a speech to astonish the hearers, beating on their ears with an elaborate sound, the peoples rejoice, welcoming the invention of the thoughts, the arrangement, and the pomp of the diction struck into harmony? Surely he would never have said this, who nowhere used that kind of speech; nor would he have urged us to make a festive display in the praises of the blessed, who everywhere preferred plainness of diction and an unadorned voice. What then is it that he says? That the peoples rejoice with a spiritual joy at the mere recollection of the achievements of the righteous, being led to emulation and imitation of the good things they hear. For the history of men who lived well is like a light for those being saved on the road of life. Hence as soon as we heard the Spirit narrating the life of Moses, at once emulation of the man's virtue entered us, and the gentleness of his character appeared enviable and blessed to each of us. For the praises of other men are put together by amplifying words; but for the righteous the truth of their deeds suffices to show the surpassing quality of their virtue. So when we narrate the lives of those who were distinguished in piety, we first glorify the Master through his servants, we praise the righteous through the testimony of what we know, and we gladden the peoples through the hearing of good things. For the life of Joseph is an exhortation to chastity, and the stories of Samson an encouragement to courage.

[2] The divine school, then, does not know the law of encomia, but reckons the testimony of deeds in place of encomia, as sufficient for the praise of the saints and self-sufficient for the benefit of those eager for virtue. For it is the law of encomia to search out the homeland, inquire into the family, and narrate the upbringing; but our law, silencing what is said of neighbors, fills out the testimony from each one's own deeds. For how am I more august for this, if the city once endured hard and great contests and set up splendid trophies over its enemies? Or if it is favorably situated, so as to be suitable for both winter and summer? Or if it is fertile in men and able to feed cattle, what benefit is that to me? It also surpasses every land under the sun in its herds of horses. What then can these things do to make us better in human virtue? Or shall we deceive ourselves by describing the peaks of the neighboring mountain, how they are above the clouds and rise far into the air, as if we were filling out the praise of the men by these? It is the most ridiculous thing of all, when the whole world has been despised by the righteous, that we should fill out their praises from a few of the things they disdained. Memory, then, suffices for continual benefit. For they have no need of anything added for good repute; but for us who are in this life memory is necessary for imitation. As illumination follows fire of itself, and fragrance ointment, so benefit necessarily follows good deeds. Yet even this is no small thing, to attain exactly the truth of what happened then. For a dim report has been handed down to us, preserving the man's brave deeds in the contests. And our case seems somehow like that of painters. For they, when they copy images from images, fall very far short of the originals, as is to be expected; and for us too, who missed the very sight of the events, there is no small danger of diminishing the truth. But since the day has come that brings the remembrance of a martyr who contended illustriously in testimonies for Christ, let us say what we know. He was born of this city, so that we love him all the more, because the adornment is our own. For as fruitful plants set the fruits they bear before their own soil, so he too, having sprung up from the bosom of our [city] and risen to the greatest height of glory, granted to the land that bore and nourished him the enjoyment of the fruits of his piety. Fine indeed are fruits from abroad too, when they are sweet and nourishing; but much sweeter than the imported are our native and local ones, granting us besides the enjoyment a certain adornment too through their kinship. Enrolled in a distinguished military service, he was entrusted with command of about a hundred soldiers, conspicuous in the army lists for strength of body and courage of soul. When the tyrant of that time extended the bitterness and savagery of his soul as far as war against the Church, and raised a God-fighting hand against piety, proclamations were everywhere, and edicts were posted in every marketplace and every notable place, that Christ was not to be worshiped, or else that death was the penalty for those who worshiped him; and the command was that all should bow down to idols and consider as gods stones and wood shaped by the engraving of art, or else that those who did not obey should suffer incurable things. There was confusion and disturbance throughout the city, and plundering of the pious: property was seized, the bodies of those who loved Christ were torn by blows, women were dragged through the middle of the city; youth was not pitied, old age was not revered; … the prisons were crowded, the prosperous houses were deserted, and the deserts were full of fugitives; and piety was the charge against those who suffered these things. Father handed over child, son informed against father, brothers raged against one another, and slaves rose up against their own masters. A terrible night had seized life, all failing to recognize one another through the derangement caused by the devil. Houses of prayer were thrown down by unholy hands, altars were overturned, and there was no offering nor incense, no place to sacrifice, but a terrible gloom held everything like a cloud. The servants of God were driven away, the whole company of piety was terrified, and demons danced in triumph, polluting everything with the smoke of sacrifices and blood. Then this noble man, anticipating the compulsion of the courts, threw off his belt and went beyond the borders; disdaining power, disdaining glory, wealth of every kind, kindred, friends, servants, the enjoyment of life, all that men strive for, he fled to the deepest deserts, inaccessible to men, reckoning life with wild beasts gentler than fellowship with idolaters, after the example of the zealous Elijah, who, when he saw the idolatry of the Sidonian woman prevailing, fled up to Mount Horeb and lived in the cave, seeking God, until he saw the one he longed for, as far as it is possible for a man to see God.

[3] Such, then, was Gordius too, fleeing the tumults of the city, the crowd of the marketplace, the pomp of the magistrates, the courts, the informers, those who sell, those who buy, those who swear, those who lie, foul talk, jesting, and all else that populous cities drag along like tow-boats. Pure in his ears, pure in his eyes, and above all purified in heart, so that he might be able to see God and become blessed, he saw through revelations and was taught the mysteries, not from men nor through men, but having the great teacher, the Spirit of truth. Hence, coming to a thought of life, how useless it is, how vain, how feebler than any dream and shadow, he was roused more vehemently to desire for the upward call. And like an athlete who perceives that he has been sufficiently trained and anointed for the contest by fasts, vigils, prayers, and the continual and unceasing study of the oracles of the Spirit, he watched for this day, on which the whole city in a body was holding a feast and watching a horse race. When, then, the whole people had gathered above, no Jew was absent, no Greek; and a not small crowd of Christians was mixed in with them, people who live unguardedly, sitting in the council of vanity and not avoiding the gatherings of evildoers, who were then present as spectators of the speed of the horses and the skill of the charioteers; masters had let their slaves off too, children ran from the schools to the spectacle, and all the common and disreputable sort of women were present; the stadium was full, and all were already intent on watching the contest of the horses. Then that noble man, great of soul, great of mind, coming down from the mountains above upon the theater, was not terrified at the people, did not reckon into how many hostile hands he was giving himself, but with fearless heart and proud mind, running past those seated around the stadium as if they were a row of rocks or many trees, he took his stand in the middle, confirming the word that “the righteous man is confident as a lion.” And so undaunted was he in soul that, standing in a conspicuous place in the theater, he cried out with unswerving boldness that utterance which some still alive heard: “I was found by those who did not seek me; I became manifest to those who did not ask for me”; showing by this that he was not led to the dangers by necessity, but gave himself willingly to the contest, imitating the Master, who, unknown to the Jews in the darkness of the night, disclosed himself.

[4] At once the theater turned toward the strange sight: a man grown savage in appearance from his long life in the mountains, with squalid head, deep beard, filthy clothing, his whole body dried up, carrying a staff and wearing a wallet; and on all this there shone a certain grace, illuminating him from the unseen. When it was known who he was, at once a mingled shout rose from everyone: those of the household of the faith clapping for joy, and those at war with the truth [urging] his murder … So everything was filled with shouting and uproar, … and the display of the chariots was an empty noise. For no one's eye was free to look at anything but Gordius, nor did any ear bear to hear anything but … passing through the whole theater, it drowned out the hippodrome. When silence was signaled to the people through the heralds, the pipes fell asleep, … Gordius [was heard], Gordius was gazed at. And at once he was snatched away to the magistrate, who was sitting nearby presiding over the contest. For a while the magistrate asked in a mild and gentle voice who he was and where he came from. When he had told his homeland, his family, the kind of rank he had held, the cause of his flight, and of his return: “I am here,” [he said,] “to show in deed both my contempt for your commands and my faith in God, in whom I have hoped. For I heard,” he says, “that you surpass many in savagery; so I chose this time as fitting for the fulfillment of my desire.” With these words he kindled the magistrate's anger like fire and roused the man's whole madness against himself. “Call the executioners,” he says. “Where are the leaded whips? Where are the scourges? Let him be stretched on the wheel, let him be racked on the wood; let the instruments of punishment be brought; let the beasts, the fire, the sword, the cross, the pit be made ready. But what does the villain lose,” he says, “dying only once?” “Rather, what a loss to me,” said Gordius, forestalling him, “that I cannot die many times for Christ!” The magistrate, besides his natural savagery, was harsher still when he looked at the man's rank, considering the youthful loftiness of his mind a personal dishonor. And the more he saw his heart undaunted, the more savage he became, and the more eager to defeat the man's resolve by the invention of pains.

[5] But he, looking to God, charmed his soul with the sacred Psalms, saying, “The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do to me”; and, “I will fear no evil, for you are with me”; and whatever else akin to these calls to courage, as he had been taught from the divine oracles. So far was he from yielding to the threats and cowering, that he even challenged the terrors to come upon him. “Why do you delay?” he says. “Why do you stand there? Let my body be torn, my limbs racked; let me be tortured as you please. Do not begrudge me my blessed hope. For the more you intensify the terrors, the greater the recompense you procure for me. These are covenants of exchange between us and the Master. For the weals that rise on the body, a garment of light will bloom for us in the resurrection; for dishonor, crowns; for the prison, paradise; for condemnation with criminals, life with angels. Sow much in me, that I may reap manifold.” When they could not take him by terrors, and the matter was hopeless, they changed and flattered him. For such is the devil's method: he terrifies the coward, he softens the brave. Such were the wicked one's tricks at that time. For when he saw him not yielding to the threats, he tried to get round him with deceits and baits. He promised gifts, and some he gave, and he pledged that others would come from the emperor: distinction in the army, sources of money, whatever he might wish.

[6] When he failed in the attempt (for the blessed man, hearing the promises, laughed at his folly, if he thought he could give anything worth as much as the kingdom of heaven), then he was unbearable in his anger; he bared a sword, set the executioner beside him, and, murderous with hand and tongue, condemned the blessed man to death. The whole theater moved to this place; and whatever was left of the inhabitants poured out before the wall and saw that great and agonizing spectacle, wondrous to angels and all creation, painful to the devil and fearful to demons. The city was emptied of its inhabitants, the multitude flowing all at once to this place like a stream. No woman consented to be left out of the spectacle, no man, obscure or eminent. The guards left their guarding of the houses; the merchants' workshops were left unlocked; the wares were scattered about the marketplace; and the one guard and security for all was that all alike had gone out, and not even a criminal remained in the city. Slaves left the service of their masters; and all the foreign and native part of the people was present here for the man. Then even the virgin dared the sight of men, and the old and the sick, forcing their weakness, were outside the wall. As the blessed man was already hastening to life through death, his friends stood around him, embracing him, imploring him, and kissing him for the last time; and shedding hot tears over him, they begged him not to throw himself away to the fire, not to waste his youth, not to leave this sweet sun. Others said: “Just say the denial with a word, and keep the faith in your soul as you wish. Surely [God] does not attend to the tongue … … for you will be able both to appease the judge and to propitiate God.”

[7] But he was unbending and untamable, and unwounded by every assault of temptation. You might liken the steadiness of his mind to the house of the prudent man, which neither the unbearable violence of winds nor the pouring rain of breaking torrents can shake, because of the security of the rock. Such was the man, keeping safe the unshaken firmness of his faith in Christ. … the devil, who moved some to tears and worked with others toward persuasion; to those who wept he said the Lord's word, “Do not weep for me,” but weep for the God-fighters, who dare such things against the pious, who by this flame which they kindle against us are storing up for themselves the fire of Gehenna. Stop weeping and breaking my heart. For I am ready not only to die once for the name of the Lord Jesus, but ten thousand times, if that were possible. To those who [urged] the [denial] through the [tongue] … that the tongue, created by Christ, cannot bear to utter anything against its Creator. “For with the heart we believe unto righteousness, and with the mouth we confess unto salvation.” Is the military order despaired of for salvation? Is no centurion pious? I remember the first centurion, who stood by the cross of Christ and recognized his power from the wonders: while the daring of the Jews was still hot, he did not fear their anger nor shrink from proclaiming the truth, but confessed, and did not deny, that he was truly the Son of God. I know another centurion too, who recognized the Lord while he was still in the flesh to be God and King of the powers, able by command alone to send help through the ministering spirits to those in need; whose faith the Lord declared greater than that of all Israel. And was not Cornelius, a centurion, counted worthy of the vision of the angel, and at last obtained salvation through Peter? For his alms and his prayers were heard before God. I wish to be their disciple. How then shall I deny God? … heaven above? Will not the stars grow dark over me, and will the earth bear me at all? “Do not be deceived; God is not mocked.” He judges us from our own mouth; by words he justifies and by words he will condemn. Have you not read the Lord's fearful threat, “Whoever denies me before men, I too will deny him before my Father in heaven”?

[8] “But why do you advise me to use even this sophistry? So that I may gain something for myself by such an artifice? So that I may gain a few days? But I shall lose a whole age. So that I may escape the pains of the flesh? But I shall not see the good things of the righteous. It is plain madness to perish by art, and by cunning and deceit … eternal punishment for oneself. … you think badly, learn piety; if falsehood, … truth. Say, ‘Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.’ For every tongue will utter this word, when ‘at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow, of those in heaven, on earth, and under the earth.’ All men are mortal, but martyrs are few. Let us not wait to become corpses, but let us pass from life to life. Why do you wait for the death that comes of itself? It is fruitless, gainless, common to beasts and men. For whoever came into life by birth, time has consumed, or disease dissolved, or the more violent necessities of accidents destroyed. Since, then, one must die in any case, … life for yourselves through death. Do not spare a life whose loss is inevitable. Indeed, even if earthly things were equally lasting, one ought to be eager to exchange them for heavenly ones; but if they are short-lived and so far inferior in worth, it is terrible madness, out of eagerness for them, to fall from the blessings laid up in our hopes.” Having said this, and having traced on himself the sign of the cross, he went to the stroke, without changing color or altering anything of the cheerfulness of his face. For he was disposed not as one about to meet an executioner, but as one about to give himself into the hands of angels, who would take him at once, newly slain, and transfer him to the blessed life, as they did Lazarus. Who will describe the shout of the people then? What thunder ever sent such a sound from the clouds to the earth as then rose from those below to heaven? This is the stadium of that crowned victor. This day saw that wondrous spectacle, which time has not dimmed, nor custom weakened, nor the abundance of later events surpassed. For as we always admire the sun, though we always see it, so we keep the memory of that man ever fresh. For “the righteous will be in everlasting remembrance,” both among those on earth, as long as the earth exists, and in the heavens, and with the righteous Judge; to whom be the glory and the power to the ages of ages. Amen.