The Bodies of the Martyrs.
(Homily on the Martyrs, Benedictine Edition, t. ii., p. 650.)
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Yesterday was the martyrs’ feast, and so is to-day. Would that we could be always keeping the feast of the martyrs! For if those who are mad after theatres, and who gape open-mouthed at horses racing, cannot have enough of those foolish spectacles, how much more should we be insatiable for the feasts of the saints. In the one place there is a diabolical pomp, in the other a Christian feast: in the one place devils are revelling, in the other angelic choirs are singing: in the one place souls are lost, in the other there is salvation for all who are gathered together. Do not theatres offer any pleasure at all? If they do, not such as the other. What pleasure, indeed, is there in seeing horses running senselessly to and fro? In the other case, you see, not brute animals yoked together, but countless chariots of martyrs, and God as charioteer in the midst of them, leading the way to heaven. Listen to the prophet saying that the souls of the saints are God’s chariot: God’s chariots are ten thousand fold, and thousands those who rejoice. That which He has made a gift to the powers above, He has granted to our nature also. He sits upon the cherubim, as the psalm says: He ascended upon the cherubim, and He flew; and again: He who sitteth upon the cherubim and looketh into the abysses. This He has given to us also. He sits on them, He dwells in us. I will abide in you and will walk in you, He says. They have become His chariot, let us become His temple. See you how these honours are akin? See you how He has reconciled the things above and the things below? Therefore, if we choose, we are in nothing removed from the angels! As I began by saying, yesterday was the martyrs’ feast, and to-day is the martyrs’ feast: not the martyrs who are amongst us here, but those who are in the country, or rather, they also are with us. Town and country, in the business of this life, are distinct from each other, but as far as piety is concerned, they meet on the same ground. Tell me not, then, that they have the tongue of barbarians: look rather at their mortified minds. How does unity of language serve me where the spirit is not one? How does a different speech hurt me where there is harmony in the things of faith? According to this reasoning, the country is in no sort of way worse off than the town: they enjoy equality of privileges in the head and chief of good things. So it was that Our Lord Jesus Christ did not confine Himself to cities, and leave country places empty and deserted, but He went about through cities and villages, preaching the Gospel, and curing every sickness and disease.... This is why God sowed martyrs not in cities alone, but in the country too, so that we may use their feasts as a necessary opportunity of meeting each other, and oftener in the country than in the city. For God gave the greater honour to the inferior, as this member is weaker, and therefore enjoyed more attention. Dwellers in towns always have the benefit of teaching at their command, but not so those who live in remote places. God, therefore, comforting the poverty of the teachers in the fruitfulness of the martyrs, has ordained that the greater number should be buried in the country. They have not always the voice of teachers, but the voice of the martyr speaking to them from his tomb, and with more force. And that you may know that the martyrs speak more powerfully in their silence than we by our voice, it has often happened that many have discoursed to multitudes concerning goodness, and have effected nothing; whilst others, who said no word, have done wonders through the shining example of their life. Much more have the martyrs effected this, not raising the voice of their body, but the voice of their deeds, which is far louder than the voice of the mouth. Through this voice they speak to everyone of the human race in these words: ‘Look at us, and see what evils we have endured. What have we suffered in being condemned to death, and finding eternal life? We have been made worthy to lay down our bodies for Christ. If we had not offered them up then for Christ, in a little while we should have been obliged to put off this temporary life of theirs in spite of ourselves.[25] If martyrdom had not come upon us, the common death of nature would have dissolved our bodies. On this account we give thanks to God without ceasing for making us worthy to use inevitable death for the salvation of our souls, and for receiving as a gift from us, and with the greatest honour, that which was a matter of necessity. Are the torments oppressive and painful? If they are, they pass away in a moment of time, whilst the refreshment lasts during eternal ages. Nor are the torments painful even for one moment to those who have their eyes on what is to come, and who gaze intently upon the Judge. Because blessed Stephen saw Christ with the eyes of faith, he was not conscious of the volley of stones, but instead of the stones he was counting the rewards and crowns. So do you rise above present things to the contemplation of the future, and you will be insensible to even a brief consciousness of pain. This and much more is what the martyrs say, and they are far more persuasive than we are. For if I tell you that torment is not torment, my words are not to be trusted, for there is no difficulty about talking wisely. But the martyr, who speaks by his deeds, cannot be gainsaid. And, as with ordinary baths, when they are bubbling over with hot water, no one has the courage to jump in, as long as those who are sitting by the bath invite each other to enter by word only, they induce nobody to try. But as soon as one of them puts in either his hand or his foot, and, encouraged by the attempt, plunges in his whole body, by his silence he persuades those outside, more than the others by all they say, to try the bath; and so it is with the martyrs. In their case we have the stake instead of the bath. Those outside, by all their talk, do not carry much weight; yet, if a single martyr plunge in, not his foot nor his hand alone, but his whole body, he offers by his action something more forcible than any advice or preaching, and he stops the anxiety of those standing round. See you how the voice of the martyr is more powerful even in its silence? This is why God has left us their bodies. This is why, victorious of old, they have not yet risen. Combats, indeed, they endured not long ago, but they have not yet enjoyed the resurrection, and this for your greater benefit, that you, pondering that fight of theirs, may be incited to carry out your own race. They do not suffer in the least from the delay, whilst your profit is immense. After these things they will receive their reward, even if they do not now. If God were to take them away from us at this present time, He would cut off much strength and consolation; because true strength and consolation come to all men from the tombs of the saints, and you are witnesses of what I say. For often when we have used threats, kindness, tears, and exhortations, you were not moved to fervour in prayer, but going to the shrine, without any sermon, and merely seeing the tombs of the saints, you shed a fountain of tears, and warmed to your prayer although the martyr is lying there voiceless in a deep silence. Whence, then, comes the good to the conscience, which opens, as it were, the floodgates of tears? It is the sight of the martyr and the remembrance of all his good deeds. Just as when the poor see other men who are rich and in high offices attended by body-guards, and enjoying great honour from the king, learn to feel their poverty more keenly in the prosperity of others, so is it with us when we call to mind the fortitude which the martyrs showed towards God, the King of all their shining example and their glory, and remember our own sins. Their abundance makes our grief and sorrow at our poverty more poignant, and this consciousness shows us how far we are left behind them: hence come our tears. Again, God left us their bodies, so that whenever the pressure of earthly business and cares should shroud our minds in darkness,—for private and public affairs are full of this,—we should leave our house, go out of the city, bid farewell to these harassing thoughts, and seek out the shrine. We may enjoy the spiritual atmosphere there, forget our business, feed on peace, have the companionship of the saints, pray to Him Who is their judge for our own salvation, pour forth many supplications, and through all these means, lightening our conscience, may return home in much sweetness of spirit. The biers of the martyrs are nothing else than secure harbours, the sources of spiritual streams, inexhaustible treasures of wealth which are never consumed. And just as harbours receive vessels which have been much tossed by the waves, and place them in safety, so the biers of the martyrs receiving these spirits of ours, which are absorbed by the cares of life, establish them in great peace and security. Just as streams of cold water revive failing and scorched bodies, so do those resting-places calm souls which are burnt up with foul passions. The mere sight of them quenches evil cupidity, and wasting envy, and burning desires, and any other trouble of the same kind, and they are superior to treasures of great wealth. For treasures of money present many dangers to those who find them, and when divided into many parts become less in the distribution. Here there is nothing of this sort, for the attainment is without dangers. Contrary to what happens in material treasures, this division does not diminish this treasure. The former, as I said, are lessened by being divided. Now, when these are distributed amongst many, then it is that they most of all show what their riches are. For such is the nature of spiritual things that they are increased by distribution, and become greater by division. Meadows with their sight of roses and violets are not so delightful as the tombs of the martyrs which offer to souls who gaze upon them an indestructible and undying delight.
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The Tombs of the Servants.
(Οἱ τάφοι τῶν δοὺλων.)
(Homilies on Second Epistle to Corinthians, xxvi., vol. iii., p. 273.)
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Thus God has led all the saints through tribulation and distress, helping them on the one hand whilst securing the rest against conceiving an unduly high opinion of their merits. Thus it was in the beginning that idolatries prevailed by the excessive admiration lavished upon men, and in this way the Roman Senate decreed Alexander to be the thirteenth god. For it had this authority of electing and making gods. When the whole work of Christ became known the provincial ruler sent to enquire whether they thought He too should be a god. They would not agree to that, and were impatient and angry that the power of the Crucified, bursting forth before their vote and decree, had attracted the whole world to its own majesty. This was ordained even against their will, so that the divinity of Christ might not be preached by vote of man, and that He should not be looked upon as one of the many decreed by them to be divine. For they made pugilists gods, and the creatures of Hadrian’s infamous lust, whence, too, the city of Antinoos derives its name. For, since death bears witness against mortal nature, the devil lighted upon another way—the immortality of the soul, to which he joined gross flattery, and led many into impiety. What malice! Whenever we bring forward this argument in its proper place, he destroys it; but when he wishes to make an injurious use of it himself, he sets it up most zealously. If anyone should ask, ‘How is Alexander a god? Did he not die and die miserably?’ He answers, ‘But his spirit is immortal’. Then you think over in your mind the argument for immortality, and play the philosopher in order that you may turn men away from the God of all; but when we say that this is the greatest gift of God, you persuade those whom you cheat that we are low-minded and cringing, and nothing better than unreasoning animals. And if we were to say that the Crucified lives, they would indulge in great laughter at us, although the whole universe is crying out that He does live, and did cry out of old, then by signs, now by converts, for these successes do not belong to a dead man; but if some one declares that Alexander lives, you believe him, although he has no wonder whatever to bring forward in proof of it. ‘Yes, he has,’ you reply; ‘in his lifetime Alexander did many and great deeds, for he subdued peoples and cities, and made many victorious wars, and set up trophies.’ Now, if I am able to show you things which neither Alexander nor any other man of his day contemplated in his lifetime, what further proof of the resurrection do you require? That a living man, being a king, and having an army, should carry out wars and victories is neither astonishing nor wonderful; but to do things so great after crucifixion and the tomb, to do them over land and sea, this is truly awe-inspiring, and proclaims divine and infinite power. After his death Alexander did not hinder his empire from dissolution, and when it had disappeared did not bring it back again. How should a dead man do this? Now, Christ set up His kingdom in dying. And why do I speak of Christ, since He gave to His disciples also to become famous after death? Tell me, where is Alexander’s tomb? Show it to me and say what day he died. But the tombs of Christ’s servants are famous; they have taken possession of the most royal city, and their days are solemnly kept as a feast for the world. Whilst the one is unknown amongst his own countrymen, even barbarians are familiar with the other. And the tombs of the servants of the Crucified are more splendid than the courts of kings, not in the greatness and beauty of the monument, though in this, too, they are remarkable, but, what is far more, through the devotion of those who frequent them. And he who is clothed in the royal purple leaves his throne to embrace those tombs, and, putting off the garb of vanity, stands as a suppliant of the saints in order to make them his intercessors with God, and the crowned king has need of a dead tent-maker and a fisherman as patrons. I ask you, would you dare to call the Lord of these a dead man, Whose servants, though no longer here, are the protectors of the kings of the earth? And you may see this happening not in Rome alone, but also in Constantinople. For here, too, the son thought his father, Constantine the Great, most highly honoured if he might be buried in the vestibule of the Fisherman. What door-keepers in palaces are to kings, this kings are at the tombs of fishermen. The fishermen, like lords of the spot, have taken possession of what is within; the kings, like sojourners and neighbours, have been contented to have a separate place in the doorway, thus proving to unbelievers that pre-eminence in the resurrection will belong to fishermen. For if it be so here in the matter of tombs, how much more in the resurrection. And the order is reversed: kings become servants and subjects, whilst subjects are invested with regal dignity, or rather with something even greater. The truth itself shows that there is no flattery in the matter, for kings have become famous through these subjects of theirs. Their tombs are far more awe-inspiring than those of all kings put together; there is great solitude in the one and a great crowd at the other. If you wish to compare these tombs with royal courts, here again they carry off the palm. Many are the bustling people at the court, but at the tomb many are they who call and attract rich and poor, men and women, slaves and freemen. There is great fear at the one, and an unspeakable delight at the other. But it is a pleasant sight to look upon the king with his golden sceptre and his crown on his head, his guards standing near, and princes, and generals, and commanders, and officers high and low. Yet the spectacle presented by the other is so much more magnificent and ineffable, that, compared to it, the court would seem to be a puppet show and child’s play. You have hardly crossed the threshold when the place carries your mind up to heaven, to the King above, to the army of the angels, to the throne of the Most High, to glory unspeakable. At court it falls to the ruler’s part to release one man and to put another in chains; now, the bones of the saints have not this poor and miserable authority, but a power far greater. For they call forth demons and torture them, and release from their sharpest chains those who are bound. What is more awful than this tribunal? Whilst no one is seen and no one appears by the devil’s side, there are voices and convulsions, and blows and torments, and angry tongues, the devil not bearing that wonderful power. And they who carry those bodies have dominion over bodiless spirits: dust, and bones, and ashes, tear those invisible beings into pieces. So it is that no man would ever go a long journey to see royal palaces, whilst many kings have often travelled far for this spectacle. For the testimony of the saints furnishes a likeness and a symbol of the judgment to come, devils are punished, men are chastised and set free. See you the power of the saints even when they are dead, and the weakness of sinners even whilst living? Fly therefore from evil, that you may have dominion over these, and pursue goodness with all zeal. For, if things so wonderful take place here, judge what it will be like hereafter.
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