Religious History (Lives of the Syrian Monks)

Religious History (Lives of the Syrian Monks)

Theodoret of Cyrus

c. AD 444

Thirty short lives of the monks and hermits of Syria whom Theodoret, bishop of Cyrrhus, knew or heard of, from Jacob of Nisibis to Symeon Stylites on his pillar, and ending with accounts of three women ascetics. Theodoret wrote it about AD 444. The digital Greek text here is rough in places (scanning errors), which the page flags where it shows. An English version exists in print; this is a fresh translation made for SermonIndex.

Preface

Pref..a PROLOGUE. It is a fine thing to watch the struggles of the best men, the athletes of virtue, and to draw benefit through one’s own eyes. Things we praise seem worth owning when we see them. They become worth loving, and they urge the onlookers to take them for their own. Yet accounts of such achievements also bring no small benefit, when those who know the facts pass them on to the ears of those who do not. Some say that sight is more trustworthy than hearing. Even so, hearing also can be persuaded, and it judges what is said by the truthfulness of the speakers. The tongue and palate are trusted to judge sweetness, bitterness and other such qualities, and they deliver the same verdict together. In the same way, hearing has been entrusted with the discernment of words, and it knows how to separate what brings some benefit from what does harm. If the memory of helpful accounts stayed safe, and the damage of forgetfulness did not settle over it like a mist and make it fade, then writing such things down would be needless and superfluous, since the benefit would pass easily to later generations. But time damages the body by bringing old age and death, and it damages noble deeds by producing forgetfulness and dulling memory. So no one could reasonably take offense at us for undertaking to write down the way of life of men who love God. Physicians prepare medicines to fight disease and help the sick. In the same way, the labor of this kind of writing becomes a kind of remedy against harm, working against forgetfulness and coming to the aid of memory. For would it not be absurd that poets and historians should write down brave deeds in war? Tragedians put on stage, for all to see, disasters that were rightly hidden, and leave a written memory of them. Others spend their words on comedy and laughter. And we would look on while men are handed over to oblivion, men who in a mortal body subject to passions showed freedom from passion, and who rivaled the bodiless nature!

Pref..b What penalty would we not justly deserve if we stood by while the memory of these admirable struggles grows dim? Consider that they themselves pursued the highest philosophy of the saints of old. They did not carve the memory of those saints in bronze and letters. They copied all their virtue and made themselves into living images and monuments of them. What forgiveness could we expect, then, if we do not honor this celebrated life even with writing? And this is done for those who compete at Olympia. Charioteers who show themselves victorious in the horse races receive this same honor. Not only these, but also [their own kind of men], and effeminate men, and people of whom it is doubtful whether they are men or women, are painted on panels by the lovers of such spectacles, who are eager that their memory should last as long as possible. Yet remembering them does the soul harm, not good. Even so, some people love these men and some love those, and they honor them with painting, though they corrupt those who watch them. Because death plunders mortal nature, people mix colors and set likenesses of these figures on panels, and so contrive to make the memory last far longer than the life. But we are writing the life of a teacher of philosophy, one who emulated the way of life in heaven. We do not paint the features of bodies, and we do not show copies of them to those who do not know them. We sketch the forms of invisible souls, and we reveal battles no one can see and struggles that are hidden. Such is the full armor that Paul, the general and champion of their battle line, has put on them. For he says: “Take up the full armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the evil day, and having accomplished everything, to stand.” And again: “Stand, therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with readiness for the Gospel of peace, and over all taking up the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the evil one, and to receive the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”

Pref..c He clothed them in this armor and led them into the contest. For their enemies are of such a kind: bodiless, unseen, advancing without being noticed, plotting in secret, lying in ambush and attacking suddenly. This same commander taught as much when he said: “Our wrestling is not against blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the world-rulers of the darkness of this age, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” Yet although this company of saints had such opponents (or rather, each one of them was surrounded by so many enemies of this kind, for the enemies did not attack all together, but now fell on one, now on another), they won so brilliant a victory that their adversaries ran away, and the saints pursued them with full force and set up a trophy with no one standing in the way. The victory was not given them by nature, for nature is mortal and full of countless passions, but by their purpose, which drew down divine grace. They became ardent lovers of divine beauty, and gladly chose to do and suffer everything for the sake of the one they loved. They bravely endured the uprising of the passions and firmly beat off the showers of the devil’s arrows. In the apostle’s words, they bruised the body and made it a slave. They calmed the inflammations of anger, and forced the frenzy of desires to keep quiet. By fasting and sleeping on the ground they put the passions to sleep and stopped their leaps and bounds, and so they forced the body to make a truce with the soul. Thus they ended this war that is born within us. When they had secured peace among these inner powers, they drove out the whole host of their opponents. For the enemy had no thoughts within that betrayed the city, and was robbed of the help of the human members, so he could not make war. The devil uses our own members as the missiles he throws against us.

Pref..d If the eyes are not lured, the ears not charmed, the touch not tickled, and the mind does not accept wicked plans, then the schemers’ effort is wasted. Think of a city built on a height, encircled by strong walls, and surrounded on every side by deep ravines. No enemy could take it unless someone inside betrayed it and quietly opened some small gate. In the same way, it is impossible for demons attacking from outside to overcome a soul that is surrounded by divine grace, unless some careless thought opens one of the little gates of our senses and lets the enemy in through it. The men we are praising had been taught this plainly by the divine Scripture. They had heard God say through the prophet that “death has come up through the windows.” So they shut the senses with the divine laws, as with bars and bolts, and put the keys in the hands of the mind. Neither tongue nor lips opened unless the mind commanded it, and the pupil of the eye was not allowed to look out from the eyelids without permission. The ear could not wall off its entrance with eyelids or lips, so it pushed away foolish words and welcomed only those in which the mind delighted. In the same way they trained the sense of smell not to long for sweet scents, since these naturally make a person soft and slack. In the same way they drove out the fullness of the belly, and taught themselves to take only such food as met a need and not a pleasure, and only as much as could keep off death from hunger. In the same way they overthrew the sweet tyranny of sleep. They freed the eyelids from slavery to it and trained them to be masters instead of slaves, to take the help sleep gives not whenever it comes on them, but when they themselves call it in to give nature a brief relief. So they took care to guard the walls and the gates, and kept their inner thoughts in agreement. They laughed at the enemies attacking from outside. Those enemies could not break in by force, because divine grace made the saints secure, and they found no traitor willing to let them in. Though the enemies are invisible by nature, they could not prevail over a body that is visible and subject to the necessities of nature.

Pref..e The charioteer of this body, who is also its musician and its helmsman, holds the reins well and has persuaded the horses to run in order. By rhythm he has made the strings of the senses sound one harmony. By skill at the rudder he has broken the force of the waves and the rush of the winds. These are the men who walked through life by countless labors and tamed the body with sweat and hardship. They did not know the feeling of laughter, but spent their whole lives in weeping and tears. They counted fasting a Sybarite’s luxury, and counted laborious wakefulness the sweetest sleep. The hard ground was their soft bed, and time spent in prayers and psalm-singing was a pleasure beyond measure and beyond satisfying. Who would not rightly admire men who have gathered every kind of virtue into themselves? Or rather, who could praise them as they deserve? I know well that no speech can reach their virtue. Still, I must try. It would not be right that, because these lovers of true philosophy became perfect men, they should receive no praise at all, even a lesser one. I will not write one common praise for them all. Different gifts were given to them by God, and the blessed Paul teaches this when he says: to one is given through the Spirit a word of wisdom; to another a word of knowledge according to the same Spirit; to another gifts of healing in the same Spirit; to another workings of powers; to another prophecy; to another kinds of tongues; to another interpretation of tongues. Then, to show the source of all of these, he added: “All these things are worked by one and the same Spirit, who divides to each one individually as he wills.” Since they received different gifts, it is right that I give an account of each one separately. I will not go through everything they did, for a whole lifetime would not be enough for such a work. I will tell a few of the things each one lived or did, show through those few the character of his whole life, and then move on to the next.

Pref..f I will not try to set down in history the lives of all the saints who have shone everywhere. I do not know all who have shone in every place, and it is not possible for one man to write about them all. I will record only the lives of those who appeared in the East like lights, whose rays have reached the ends of the world. The account will proceed as a narrative. It will not follow the rules of formal praise, but will simply tell the story of a few men. I ask those who read this God-loving history, or “ascetic way of life” (call the work what you like), not to disbelieve what is said, even if they hear things beyond their own power. Do not measure the virtue of these men by your own. Know clearly that God is accustomed to measure the gifts of the Holy Spirit by the minds of the godly, and gives the greater gifts to those who are more perfect. I say this to those who are not very thoroughly initiated into divine things. Those who are initiated into the inner sanctuary of the Spirit know the Spirit’s generosity. They know what wonders he works through men among men, drawing unbelievers to the knowledge of God by the greatness of his marvels. Whoever will not believe what I am going to say plainly would not believe, as true, the things done through Moses, Joshua, Elijah and Elisha. He must also think the miracles done through the holy apostles a fable. But if he grants that those are true, let him believe that these are free of falsehood too. The grace that worked in those men has worked through these as well. Grace is ever-flowing. It chooses the worthy, and through them, as through springs, it pours out streams of benefit. Of the things I will tell, I was an eyewitness to some. What I have not seen, I have heard from those who saw them: men who love virtue and were counted worthy to see those saints and to be taught by them. Trustworthy writers have also set down the teaching of the Gospel. Not only Matthew and John, the first and great evangelists, who saw the Lord’s miracles with their own eyes, but also Luke and Mark, who had received the account from those who were eyewitnesses from the beginning and servants of the word. They taught accurately not only what the Lord suffered and did, but also what he went on teaching.

Pref..g Blessed Luke was not an eyewitness either. Yet when he begins his writing, he says he is giving an account of matters that have been fully established. We too hear that he was not an eyewitness of these very events but received the teaching from others. Even so, we pay as much attention to him and to Mark as to Matthew and John. Each of them is a trustworthy narrator, because each was taught by those who had seen. In the same way, I will report some things as an eyewitness, and other things on the word of eyewitnesses who told them to me, men who had imitated the lives of these saints. I have spent more words on this because I want to persuade you that what I will tell is true. I will now begin the narrative, starting from this point.

Chapter 1

1a 1. The divine Moses, the lawgiver, laid bare the bed of the sea, flooded the waterless desert with water, and worked all his other wonders. He also wrote the life and conduct of the saints of old. He did not use the wisdom he had learned from the Egyptians; he received the radiance of grace from above. Where else could he have learned the virtue of Abel, the love of God shown by Enoch, the righteousness of Noah, the devout priesthood of Melchizedek, and the calling of Abraham, with his faith, his endurance, his careful hospitality, and his much-celebrated offering of his son? Where else could he have learned the long list of their other achievements, and, to put it briefly, the struggles, victories and proclamations of those inspired men, unless he had received the rays of the intelligent and divine Spirit? I need that same help now, as I try to write the lives of the saints who shone a little before our time and in our own. I want to set before those who wish to imitate them something like a body of law. So I must call on their prayers, and then begin the account. Nisibis is a city on the border between the Roman and Persian kingdoms. In earlier times it paid tribute to the Romans and was under their rule. The great Jacob came from this city. He embraced the life of solitude and quiet, and he went up to the summits of the highest mountains and lived there. In spring, summer and autumn he used the thickets, with the sky as his roof. In the winter season a cave received him and gave him a little shelter. His food was not what is sown and grown with labor, but what springs up of itself. He gathered the fruits of wild trees that grow on their own, and the edible, leafy plants. From these he gave his body what was enough to live on, and he did without the use of fire. He had no need of wool either, since the roughest hair of goats supplied his clothing. From this he made both a tunic and his single, simple cloak.

1b By afflicting his body in this way, he constantly fed his soul with spiritual food. He cleansed the eye of his mind and made it a clear mirror of the divine Spirit. As the divine Apostle says, with unveiled face he beheld the glory of the Lord as in a mirror, and was transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as from the Lord the Spirit. So his boldness toward God grew day by day, and whatever he asked of God, as he ought to ask, he received at once. So too he foresaw future events like a prophet, and he received power to work miracles from the grace of the Holy Spirit. I will tell a few of these things, and show the ray of his apostolic brightness to those who do not know it. At that time people’s madness for idols was at its height. Lifeless wooden images took over the reverence due to God, and the worship of God was neglected by most. Those who refused to share in that drunkenness were easily despised, though they were the steady ones who discerned reality accurately, laughed at the weakness of the idols, and worshiped the Creator of the universe. At that time Jacob came to Persia to see the plants of godliness there and to give them the care they needed. As he was passing a certain spring, some girls were standing at the washing places, trampling the dirt out of clothes with their feet. They were not ashamed at the strangeness of his appearance. Casting off all modesty, with shameless faces and bold eyes they stared at the man of God. They did not cover their heads, nor let down the clothes they had hitched up. The man of God was disgusted at this. He wished to show God’s power at the right moment, so that by a miracle he might free them from their godlessness. He laid a curse on the spring, and at once the stream vanished. He laid a curse on the girls, and punished their shameless youth with premature grey hair. The deed followed the word. The black of their hair changed, and they looked like young trees in spring wearing autumn leaves. So they felt the punishment. The waters of the spring had fled, and as they looked at one another’s heads they saw that sudden change. They ran to the city to report what had happened.

1c The people ran out, found the great Jacob, and begged him to relax his anger and lift the punishment. Without the least delay he made his petition to the Master and commanded the waters to well up again. At once they reappeared from their own storehouses, channeled again at the righteous man’s bidding. Those who had gained this then begged that their daughters’ locks be given back their former color. They say he yielded in this too, but asked for the girls who had received that lesson. Since they did not come, he let the punishment stand, as a lesson in modesty, a reason for good order, and a lasting, visible reminder of the divine power. Such was the miracle of this new Moses. It was not done by the stroke of a rod, but received its effect through the sign of the cross. Besides the miracle, I greatly admire his gentleness. He did not hand those shameless girls over to blood-drinking bears, as the great Elisha did. He used a harmless correction, with only a slight disorder in it, and taught godliness and good order together. I say this not to accuse the prophet of harshness. May I never be so mad! I say it to show that Jacob had that same power, but carried out what was fitting with the gentleness of Christ and in keeping with the New Covenant. At another time he saw a Persian judge give an unjust verdict. He laid a curse on a very large stone lying nearby, that it be shattered and scattered, and so he exposed the judge’s unjust verdict. At once the stone broke into countless pieces, and those present were terrified. The judge, filled with shuddering, revoked his earlier verdict and gave another, a just one. Here too Jacob imitated his own Master. The Master wished to show that he endured the passion willingly. He could easily have punished the guilty if he had wished, but he did not bring punishment on them. He dried up a lifeless fig tree with a word and so showed his power. Imitating this same love for humanity, Jacob did not punish the unjust judge, but taught him justice by the blow to the stone. Distinguished in these things, loved by all, and spoken of on everyone’s lips, he came to the service of the high priesthood and was given charge of his homeland.

1d When he exchanged that life on the mountain for life in the city, he did not do so by his own choice, and he changed neither his food nor his clothing. The places changed, but his manner of life did not. His labors actually increased and became many times greater than before. To fasting, sleeping on the ground, and wearing sackcloth he now added a constant concern for all who were in need: care for widows, protection of orphans, rebuke of those who did wrong, and rightful help for those who were wronged. But why list for those who already know everything that surrounds men who have taken up this office of oversight? He embraced such labors above all because he both longed for and feared, above all, the Lord of the sheep. And the more he gathered the wealth of virtue, the more he enjoyed the grace of the all-holy Spirit. Once, as he was setting out for a village or city (I cannot say exactly which place), some poor men came to him. They had laid out one of their companions as though he were dead, and they begged him for something toward his burial. He yielded to their pleading. But he offered his prayer to God as though for a dead man, asking him to forgive the offenses of his life and to count him worthy of the company of the righteous. As these words were being said, the soul of the man who had been pretending to be dead flew away, and his body was provided with its coverings. When the holy man had gone on a little way, the men who had staged this play told the man lying there to get up. But when they saw that he did not respond, and that the pretense had become truth and the mask had turned into a real face, they ran to the great Jacob. They wailed and rolled at his feet, saying that poverty was the cause of the scheme they had dared, and they begged him to release them from their offense and give back to the man lying there the soul that had been taken away. So, imitating the Lord’s kindness toward men, he accepted their plea and showed his wonder-working power: through prayer he gave back to the man who lay there the life that prayer had taken away. This seems to me to resemble the wonder worked by the great Peter, who sent Ananias and Sapphira to their death when they had stolen and lied.

1e In the same way Peter took away the life of a man who had stolen the truth and used a lie. But Peter knew of the theft, for the grace of the Spirit revealed it to him, and so he brought the penalty. Jacob did not know the purpose of the play. He offered his prayer, and so he stopped the course of a life that was only pretended. Again, the divine Apostle did not undo the calamity of the dead, for the opening of the saving proclamation needed fear. But Jacob, who was full of apostolic grace, punished for a season and quickly lifted the punishment, because he knew that in this way he would win those who had fallen. But we must move on to the other matters and set them out briefly. Arius was the father and maker of the blasphemy against the Only-begotten and the all-holy Spirit. He set his tongue in motion against the One who made it, and filled Egypt with uproar and confusion. Constantine, the greatest of emperors, was the Zerubbabel of our flock. Like Zerubbabel, he brought the whole captivity of the pious back from exile, and raised up to a great height the divine temples that had been thrown down to the ground. At that time, then, he gathered all the presidents of the Churches to Nicaea. Among the others there came the great Jacob, to fight for the right doctrines, like a champion and front-line fighter for the whole army. For Nisibis then belonged to the Roman empire. Now in the great council many things were said well and rightly, and many otherwise. For there were a few who thought the opposite but did not dare to lay bare their own impiety. They covered it with certain baits. These were not clear to everyone, but were quite plain to those who were precisely initiated into the truth. The confession of faith that now prevails and is proclaimed throughout the whole world was dictated. All signed it, and with hand and pen declared that this is what they believed and thought. Most did so gladly. But seven men, advocates of the blasphemy of Arius, agreed with tongue and hand, though they held a mind that spoke against the tongue. This fits the prophecy that says, “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me.” It also fits the voice of Jeremiah, which cries out plainly: “You are near to their mouth, and far from their reins.”

1f David agrees with this when he says about such people: “With their mouths they blessed, and with their hearts they cursed.” And again: “Their words were softer than oil, and yet they are darts.” These men begged Alexander, the great bishop of the Alexandrians, to take pity on Arius, who had been condemned by that whole assembly. Alexander knew their hidden unsoundness and suspected the wickedness of Arius, and for that reason he refused the request. Others, who lived in simplicity, spoke many words of praise for mercy, saying that the God of all rejoiced in it too. But the great Alexander called this unjust “mercy” toward one man plain inhumanity. He said it would ruin many and become an occasion of infection for all the flocks. So the divine Jacob urged everyone to take up the hardship of fasting, and for seven days together to beg God to bring about what would benefit the Churches. All accepted the proposal of the godly man, for they knew he shone with apostolic gifts. Fasting was joined to prayer, and the helmsman of these Churches was voting, as it were, for their good. Then the Lord’s Day came, on which most expected the guilty man to be received back. The time of the divine liturgy arrived, and everyone waited to see the enemy of God shown mercy. At that moment a truly divine and astonishing wonder took place. That accursed man had gone into a foul and stinking place to relieve himself of his insatiable eating, and he passed out with it the very vessels that held it. His inner organs were loosened and went out with the filth, and the wretch collapsed on the spot and suffered that most shameful death. He paid the penalty for his foul blasphemy in a foul place, and received his death-blow through the tongue of the great Jacob. Now the divine Scripture admires Phinehas the priest, and rightly so, because he killed Zimri, who had become a cause of destruction for the people. So blessed David sang: “Phinehas stood and made atonement, and the plague was stopped; and it was counted to him as righteousness, from generation to generation, forever.”

1g Yet Phinehas used a weapon of war to carry out that just and much-celebrated killing. For Jacob the tongue was enough, in place of spear and sword, and it destroyed the ungodly man so that he would not see the glory of the Lord. This alone is enough to expose the folly of the heirs of Arius’s impiety. For this great man was a herald and defender of the doctrines we hold, and he so loathed their impiety that he struck down its very father, using his tongue as a weapon. When the holy council broke up and each man went back to his own home, Jacob also returned, rejoicing like a champion and victor in the trophies of true religion. Time passed. That great and admirable emperor departed this life with the crowns of piety, and his sons inherited rule over the world. Then the king of the Persians, whose name was Shapur, despised the sons, thinking they could not do what their father could, and marched against Nisibis. He brought a very large force of cavalry and a very large force of infantry, and he had a great many elephants as well. He divided his army as for a siege and encamped all around the city. He set up siege engines and built towers. He drove in stakes and fenced the spaces between them with woven branches. Then he ordered his soldiers to pile up earth and raise towers against the city’s towers. He had archers climb up there and ordered them to shoot at those standing on the wall, while he ordered others to dig under the wall from below. But everything came to nothing, undone by the prayer of the holy man. At last, by the labor of many hands, he blocked the flow of the river that ran by the city. When he had collected as much water as possible behind the barrier, he released it all at once against the wall, using it as a very powerful engine. The wall could not bear the blow of the water. It was shaken by the force, and the whole section on that side fell completely. The Persians shouted loudly, thinking the city was easy to take. They did not know about the great wall of the inhabitants [the people’s defense]. Still, they put off the attack, because they saw the city made impassable by the waters.

1h So the Persians withdrew to a distance, supposing their labor was over, and they rested themselves and tended their horses. The people of the city turned to more earnest prayers, with the great Jacob as their envoy. All those of working age rebuilt the wall in haste, caring nothing for beauty or neatness. They put everything together as it came, stones, bricks, whatever anyone brought. In a single night the work advanced, and it rose high enough to stop the charge of horses and to stop men from climbing it without ladders. Then everyone begged the man of God to appear on the wall and to shoot down the enemy with curses. He agreed and went up. When he saw their many tens of thousands, he begged God to send a cloud of gnats and mosquitoes against them. He spoke and God sent them, much as God obeyed Moses. The men were wounded by these divine arrows. The horses and elephants broke their tethers and bolted, scattering this way and that, unable to bear those stings. Then the impious king saw that all his siege engines had done no good, and that the attack of the river had come to nothing, for the wall that had fallen had been rebuilt. He saw his whole army worn out with toil, suffering in the open, and driven off by a blow from God. He also saw the man of God walking on the wall. He guessed that this was the king overseeing the work, because Jacob was seen wearing a purple robe and a diadem. So he raged against those who had deceived him and persuaded him to march, and who had said the king was not in the city. He passed a death sentence on them, disbanded his army, and returned to his own palace as fast as he could. God worked such wonders in the case of this man, as he did for Hezekiah. They were no less than that earlier one, and in my judgment even greater. For that the city was not taken even when its wall had fallen, what greater marvel could there be? And besides this I marvel at something else: though Jacob used curses, he did not ask for thunderbolts and lightning to be sent down, as the great Elijah did when each captain of fifty came to him with his fifty men.

1i For Jacob had heard the Lord speak plainly to James and John, who had tried to do this very thing: “You do not know what spirit you are of.” For that reason he did not ask that the earth open up for the Persians, nor did he beg that their host be handed over to fire. He asked instead that they be wounded by those tiny creatures, so that they might recognize the power of God and learn, even if late, true devotion to him. So great was this man of God’s boldness before God, and so great the grace he enjoyed from above. He continued in these things, growing every day in divine things, and with the greatest renown he laid down this life and set out on his journey from here. Time passed, and this city was handed over to the Persian kingdom by the emperor of the time. All who lived in the city went out, carrying the body of their champion. They were grieving and lamenting their forced migration, and they sang of the power of their victorious hero. For had he been alive, they would never have come under barbarians. Having told this much about this man of God, I will move on to another account, praying that I may share in his blessing.

Chapter 2

2a Julian, whom the locals honored with the nickname Sabbas (in Greek the name means “old man”), set up his ascetic hut in the region once called Parthia and now called Osrhoene. To the west it stretches to the bank of the river itself, which is named Euphrates. To the east it reaches the edge of the Roman empire, for Assyria follows, which is the western limit of the Persian kingdom and which people later called Adiabene. In this land there are many large and populous cities, and a very great stretch of country, part of it inhabited and a great part of it uninhabited and desert. This godly man reached the far edge of that desert. He found a cave that was not made by hands and had not been dug out neatly or well, but could give a little shelter to those who wanted to take refuge in it. He gladly made it his home, judging it more precious than palaces glittering with gold and silver. There he passed his days, taking food only once a week. His food was millet bread, and that made of coarse bran. His relish was salt. His drink, and the sweetest of drinks, was the water that welled up naturally, and he measured it not by what would satisfy him but by what the food he had set out first required. His luxury, his delicacy, and his feast of every kind was the singing of David’s psalms and his unbroken conversation with God. He enjoyed these without ever being sated, and he did not want to have enough of them. He was always being filled, and always crying out, “How sweet are your words to my throat, sweeter than honey and the honeycomb to my mouth!” He heard blessed David say again, “The judgments of the Lord are true, righteous altogether, more to be desired than gold and much precious stone, and sweeter than honey and the honeycomb.” He heard him say again, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the requests of your heart.” And again, “Let the heart of those who seek the Lord rejoice.” And, “Make my heart glad to fear your name.” And, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” And, “My soul has thirsted for God, the strong and living one.”

2b And, “My soul has clung to you.” And he took the love of the one who spoke these words and made it his own. This is the very reason the great David sang these words and taught them, so that he might make many into sharers and fellow lovers of God. He was not disappointed in his hope. He wounded this marvelous man, and countless others, with the love of God. This man received such a burning torch of love that he was drunk with longing. He saw nothing of earthly things. He dreamed of the Beloved alone by night and pictured him by day. Many learned of this highest philosophy of his. Some lived nearby and some far away, for rumor flew everywhere on wings. They ran to him, begging to share in the training-ground and to live from then on under him, as under a trainer and coach. For it is not only birds that hunt birds, singing and calling their own kind to themselves and entangling them in the snares set around. Human beings also catch those of their own nature, some to their ruin and some to their salvation. So they gathered, and quickly there were ten, then double and triple that, and then they filled up the number one hundred. And the cave took in all of these, for they had learned from the old man to condemn the care of the body. Like their coach, they too ate millet bread seasoned with salt. Later they also gathered wild vegetables, packed them into earthen jars, and mixed in as much brine as was needed. This was the relish for those who needed some care. But damp dwellings are the enemy of this vegetable, for it naturally breeds mold and rot. Since this trouble befell the relish, because the cave took in much moisture from every side, the members of the company begged the old man to let them build a small shed, large enough for the jars of this relish. At first he would not accept the request. But at last he was persuaded, for he had been taught by the great Paul not to seek his own things but to be led along with the lowly. He gave only small and modest measurements for the shed, and went off far from the cave to offer his usual prayers to God.

2c He was in the habit of walking out into the desert, often fifty stades and sometimes twice that far. He cut himself off from all human company and turned inward, so that he could talk with God alone and see reflected, as in a mirror, that divine and unspeakable beauty. Those who had been given into his care took advantage of this leisure and built the little house. They made it a fitting size for its purpose, but larger than they had been told to build it. He came back after ten days, like a Moses coming down from the mountain and from a vision beyond words. When he saw that the building was bigger than he wanted, he said: “I am afraid, men, that by enlarging our lodgings on earth we may shrink our dwellings in heaven. These earthly ones are temporary, and useful to us only for a little while. Those are eternal and can never come to an end.” He said this to train the company in the more perfect way. Yet he put up with it, having heard the apostle’s voice: “I do not seek my own advantage, but that of the many, that they may be saved.” He also trained them in this: inside the cave they offered their psalmody to God together. After dawn they went out into the desert two by two. One would bend his knees and give the Master the worship that is due him, while the other stood and sang fifteen psalms of David. Then they exchanged tasks. The one who had been singing would kneel and bow to the ground, and the other would rise and sing. They kept on doing this from early morning until late evening. Shortly before sunset they rested a little. Then they came back to the cave, some from one direction and some from another, and all together offered their worship to the Master. The old man himself used to take one of the more distinguished brothers as a partner in the service. A certain man followed him quite often, a Persian by birth, tall and admirable in appearance, and possessing a soul even more wonderful than his looks. His name was Jacob. After the old man’s death he shone in every virtue, and was famous and admired not only among the people there but also in the monasteries of Syria. In one of those he died, having lived, it is said, a hundred and four years.

2d This man shared the great old man’s journey into the desert, but followed from a distance. The teacher would not allow him to come near, so that it would not give them an excuse for conversation, and conversation steal the mind away from its vision of God. As he followed, Jacob saw an enormous serpent lying on the road. When he saw it he did not dare go forward. Several times he wanted to turn aside out of fear, but his resolve grew strong again. Then he stooped, picked up a pebble and threw it. He saw the serpent stay just as it was, unable to move at all. Understanding that it was dead, he supposed that the old man had killed the beast. When he had finished the walk and completed the service of psalmody, the time for rest came. The old man sat down and told Jacob to rest his body for a little too. At first Jacob sat in silence. But when the old man began some conversation, Jacob smiled and begged him to make clear something he did not understand. The old man allowed him to ask. “I saw a huge serpent thrown down on the road,” he said. “At first I was afraid, thinking it was alive. When I saw it was dead, I took courage and went on. So tell me, Father, who killed it? You were leading the way, and no one else has passed along that road.” The old man said, “Stop prying into such things. They can bring no benefit to those who deal with them.” But the admirable Jacob still pressed him, eager to learn the truth. The old man tried for a long time to hide it, but could not bear to distress the one who loved him any longer. “I will tell you, if you want to know,” he said. “But I charge you not to make anyone else a sharer in what I say as long as I live. Such things ought to be hidden, because they often stir up boasting and conceit. If I depart from here and become free of such passions, I will not forbid you to speak and to tell of the power of divine grace. “Know then,” said the great Julian, “that as I was walking along the road, that beast came at me and opened its mouth, wanting to swallow me.”

2e “I used the name of God and pointed with my finger to the trophy of the cross. At once I shook off all fear, and I saw the beast fall to the ground. I sang praise to our common Savior and went on my way.” When he had finished the story, he got up and continued on the road to the cave. At another time a young man came, born of a noble family and raised in luxury, but with more eagerness than strength. He begged the old man to let him share his journey into the desert. He did not mean the ordinary trip that everyone made every day, but the very long one, an absence that often lasted seven days and often ten. This was the famous Asterius. The holy old man tried to stop the young man and told him the desert had no water. But the young man kept pressing him and pleading to enjoy this gift. Overcome by his entreaties, the old man gave in. At first the young man followed eagerly. But when the first, second and third days had passed, the heat of the sun scorched him (it was summer, and in the height of summer the heat is fiercer), and he was worn down with thirst. At first he was ashamed to report his suffering, remembering what the teacher had warned him. But he was beaten down and close to fainting, and he begged the old man to have pity on him. The old man reminded him of his warnings and told him to go back. The young man said he did not know the road back to the cave, and that even if he knew it, he could not walk it, since thirst had used up his strength. The holy man pitied the young man’s suffering and forgave his bodily weakness. He bent his knees and begged the Master, wetting the ground with hot tears, and he sought a way of rescue for the young man. And the One who does the will of those who fear him, and hears their prayer, made the stream of tears that touched the dust into a spring of water. When the young man had drunk his fill, the old man told him to go back at once. The spring has remained to this day, bearing witness to the Moses-like prayer of the holy old man.

2f Long ago Moses struck that barren rock with his rod and flooded it with streams of river water, to satisfy those many thousands who were thirsty. In the same way this holy man watered that bone-dry sand with his tears and drew out flowing streams of spring water. He did it not for many tens of thousands, but to cure the thirst of one young man. His soul was lit by divine grace, and he saw very clearly the perfection that the young man would one day reach. For many years later Asterius was called by divine grace to train many others in the same virtue. In the district around Gindarus, a very large village under the jurisdiction of Antioch, he set up a school of ascetic training. He drew many other athletes of philosophy to himself. He also drew the great Acacius, the famous one, I mean. Acacius shone in the monastic way of life and sent out bright rays of virtue after he was thought worthy of the office of bishop and was appointed to shepherd Beroea. He was entrusted with leading the flock for fifty-eight years. He did not give up the form of the ascetic life, but blended ascetic virtue with the virtue of public life. From the one he took strictness and from the other management, and so brought together things that stand apart. The one who hunted out this virtue and trained Acacius in it was that same Asterius. He remained so warm a lover of the great old man that he often made the journey to him twice a year, and often three times. When he arrived he used to bring figs for the members of the company, loading them on three or four animals. He would also collect two measures of grain, enough for the old man for a whole year, and put that load on his own shoulders, making himself the teacher’s pack animal. He walked carrying this load, not ten or twenty stades, but on a journey of seven days. Once the old man saw him carrying the load of figs on his shoulders. He was displeased and said he would not make them his food. For it was not right, he said, that Asterius should endure so much labor while he himself took his pleasure in Asterius’s sweat.

2g Asterius swore he would not take the load off his shoulders unless the old man agreed to share in the food he had brought. “I will do what you ask,” said the old man, “only put the sack down as quickly as you can.” In this he was imitating the first of the apostles. When the Lord wished to wash his feet, Peter at first refused and flatly insisted it would never happen. But when he heard that he would be cut off from fellowship with the Master unless he allowed it, he begged to have his hands and his head washed as well as his feet. John, too, great as he was, was commanded to baptize the Saviour. At first he confessed that he was only a servant and pointed to the Master. Later he did what he was told, not out of boldness but out of obedience to his Master. So too this holy man was troubled at the thought of eating food that another had labored to bring. But when he saw how warm the zeal of his attendant was, he chose to accept that service rather than his own preference. Perhaps some who love to find fault, and have learned only to mock what is good, will say this story is not worth remembering. But I have added it to the man’s other wonders. I wanted to show not only the reverence the great men had for him, but also, because I think it is useful, the sweetness and modesty of his character. Great as he was, and so excellent in virtue, he did not think himself worthy of ordinary honor. He pushed it away as something that did not belong to him at all, yet he put up with it again, because it did good to those who gave it. Since he had become known to everyone, and his fame drew to him those who loved what is good, he wanted to escape such honor. In the end he set out for Mount Sinai with a few of his closest companions. He did not go through any city or village but made a path through the pathless desert. On their shoulders they carried the food they needed: bread, salt, a wooden cup, and a sponge tied to a cord. If they ever found water deep down, they could draw it up with the sponge, squeeze it into the cup, and drink.

2h So after a journey of many days they reached the mountain they longed for. They worshiped their Master and stayed there a long time, counting the solitude of the place and the stillness of the soul as the greatest luxury. On that rock, where Moses, the chief of the prophets, hid and was thought worthy to see God as far as it is possible to see him, Julian built a church and consecrated a holy altar, which has remained to this day. [Then he returned] to his own training-ground. Then he learned of the threats of the king who bore his own name but was impious. This king had threatened the godly with total destruction and had set out on his march against the Persians. Those who shared his views were eagerly awaiting his dreaded return. At that time Julian offered earnest prayer to God. He kept it up until the tenth day, and then he heard a voice saying that the foul, stinking pig had been destroyed. Yet he did not simply go on to the end of his prayer. He brought it to a close at once and turned his request into a hymn, sending up a song of thanks to the Saviour of his own people, who is patient and also a powerful enemy to those who are strangers to him. For God had been long-suffering toward the impious man for a long time. But when that long-suffering only trained the accursed wretch to greater rage, God brought punishment on him at the right time. When Julian had finished his prayer and turned to his companions, it was plain that his mind was cheerful, for his face showed a radiant joy. His companions marveled at the strange sight: he always looked grave, yet now he was seen smiling. They asked him the reason. “Gentlemen,” he said, “this is a time for gladness and joy. The impious man has come to an end, as Isaiah’s word says. He has paid a penalty worthy of his daring deeds. He played the tyrant against God who made him and saved him, and he has received a just death by the right hand of one of his own subjects. That is why I rejoice. I see the churches he warred against now exulting, and I see that the wretch got no help from the demons he honored.” So concerning the death of this impious emperor, Julian enjoyed such foreknowledge. But Valens, who took up the reins of Roman rule after him, gave up the truth of the gospel teachings and accepted the deceit of Arius’s error. Then a greater storm arose against the Church. Her helmsmen were driven out from every side, and in their place some pirates and enemies were brought in.

2i So that I do not have to tell that whole tragedy at this point, I will leave the rest aside for now and recall only one thing, which showed plainly the grace of the divine Spirit that flowered in this old man. The great Meletius, whom the God of all had entrusted with shepherding the church of Antioch, had been driven out. All the clergy had been driven out of the holy churches too, together with the people who shared their mind and confessed the one divine essence of the Trinity. Sometimes they occupied the foot of the mountain and held their sacred assemblies there. Sometimes they made the river bank their place of prayer. At other times they used the military exercise ground that lies before the north gate. For their persecutors would not allow the godly to settle in a single place. The nurslings of falsehood also spread a rumor in that city, and sowed it widely: that the great Julian, this very old man, I mean, had embraced fellowship with the doctrines they professed. This troubled the godly most of all, for fear that the rumor might deceive the simpler and more naive and wrap them in the nets of the heretics. But the blessed and godly men Flavian and Diodore, who had been counted worthy of priestly service and were leading the holy people, together with Aphraates, whose life I shall, God willing, add and tell by itself, persuaded the great Acacius, whom I have already mentioned. They urged him to take as his companion on the road his own teacher, who was also a disciple of this holy old man, the famous Asterius. They asked him to run to the common glory of the Church, the support of the gospel’s teaching, and persuade him to leave his dwelling in the desert and come to the help of so many thousands perishing through deceit, and to put out the flame of Arius with the dew of his coming. The divine Acacius ran. He took the great Asterius as he had been told, and came to the greatest light of the Church. He greeted him and said, “Tell me, Father, why do you endure all this toil with joy?” The old man answered, “Serving God is more precious to me than body, soul, life, and my whole existence. I try, as far as I am able, to offer him a service clean of filth, and to please him in everything.”

2j Acacius said, “I will show you a way by which you can serve him even more than you do now. And I say this not from reasoning alone, but because I have learned it from his own teaching. Once he asked Peter whether he loved him more than the others. He learned what he already knew before Peter spoke: ‘You know, Lord, that I love you.’ Then he showed him what he could do to serve him more: ‘If you love me,’ he said, ‘shepherd my sheep, and feed my lambs.’ This is what you too must do, Father. The flocks are in danger of being destroyed by wolves, and the one you love so much loves them very much. It is the mark of lovers to do the things that please the ones they love. Besides, it is no small danger, and a loss of all those many great labors, if you can bear to give up the truth in silence while it is fiercely attacked, and let those who hold to it be hunted down, with your name becoming bait for those being caught. For the champions of the foulness of Arius boast that they have you as a partner in their impiety.” As soon as the old man heard this, he said farewell to his quiet at the right moment. He was not afraid of the unfamiliar tumult of city affairs, and he set out running for Antioch. He completed two or three stages through the desert and reached a village as evening fell. A well-off woman heard that this holy company had come. She ran to gather in their blessing, and throwing herself down before their feet she begged them to make her house their lodging. The old man yielded, though he had been separated from such a sight, that is, from lodging in a house, for more than forty years. While this admirable woman was busy serving those holy men, her seven-year-old child, her only one, fell into the well in the evening darkness. She had imitated Sarah’s hospitality. A commotion arose over this, as you would expect. When the mother learned of it, she told everyone to keep quiet. She put a cover over the well and carried on with her service. When the table had been set before the holy men, the divine old man ordered that the woman’s child be called in to share in the blessing.

2k The woman said she was ill and could not bring the child, but the old man kept insisting that he be brought. When the mother finally revealed what had happened, the old man left the table and ran to the well. He ordered the cover taken off and lights brought, and he saw the child sitting on the surface of the water, striking it with his hand as children do. He took what had seemed to be death as a game and a toy. They tied some ropes together, let them down, and pulled the child up. At once he ran to the old man’s feet and said that he had seen him carrying him on the water and keeping him from sinking. This was the reward the admirable woman received from the blessed old man for her hospitality. I will pass over the other things that happened on the way. They came to Antioch, and people hurried together from every side. They longed to see the man of God, and each one hoped to receive some healing for his own affliction. He was lodged in the caves at the foot of the mountain, where they say the divine apostle, blessed Paul, was brought and hidden. But right away, so that everyone would learn that he was a man, a violent attack of fever came upon him. The great Acacius saw the crowd that had gathered and was troubled by the illness that had struck. He thought the people who had come would be shaken if they learned of the sickness, since they expected to find healing through that man’s hand. “Do not lose heart,” said the old man. “If health is needed, God will give that too, and at once.” Immediately after these words he turned to prayer. As his custom was, he put his knees and forehead to the ground and begged to receive health, if any benefit would come from it to those who had gathered. He had not yet finished the prayer when a heavy sweat suddenly broke out and put out the flame of the fever. From there he freed many from all kinds of diseases and went to the assembly of the faithful. As he was passing the doors of the palace, a beggar who used his buttocks in place of feet, dragging himself along the ground, stretched out his hand and touched the old man’s cloak. By his faith he drove out the affliction. He leapt up and ran as he had before his illness, doing the same as the lame man whom Peter and John raised up.

2l When this happened, the whole population of the city streamed together, and the military exercise ground was full of people running to it. The slanderers and craftsmen of falsehood were put to shame, while those raised in godliness were filled with cheerfulness and joy. From there those who needed healing dragged the lamp of godliness off to their houses. A man who held a very high office and was entrusted with the helm of the East sent and begged him to come and free him from the illness that lay on him. Without delay he came, entreated the common Master, and loosed the sickness with a word. He urged the man to confess his thanks to God. After doing these and similar things, he decided at last to return to his ascetic hut. On his way he passed through Cyrrhus, a city two days’ journey from Antioch, and was lodged in the shrine of the victorious martyr Dionysius. The leaders of the orthodox community there gathered and begged him to help them, since they expected sudden ruin. They said that Asterius, who had been raised on sophistic falsehood, had slipped into the church of the heretics and been given the office of bishop. He was a terrible advocate for falsehood and used evil craft against the truth. “We fear,” they said, “that he will cover falsehood with eloquence like a bait, spread out the tangled webs of his arguments like nets, and catch many of those who live in simplicity. That is why he has been summoned by our opponents.” The old man said, “Take courage, and beg God together with us, adding fasting and hardship to your prayer.” While they were pleading with God in this way, on the day before the festival at which the advocate of falsehood and enemy of the truth was to give his speeches, he received a blow sent by God. He was sick for just one day and then was gone from the list of the living. He probably heard that voice: “Fool, this night they demand your soul from you. The evils you prepared, the nets and traps, will be for you and for no one else.” The same thing happened to Balaam, who was also sent for against the holy people. He gave Balak unholy advice against them and paid the penalty for it, receiving his death at an Israelite’s right hand.

2m So this man too had schemed against the people of God, and by the people of God he was robbed of his life. Cyrrhus enjoyed this deliverance through the old man’s prayer. The story was handed down to me by that godly head, the great Acacius, who knew everything about him exactly. Leaving that place, he returned to his fellow ascetics and spent no little time with them. Then he moved very readily to the life that does not age and knows no grief. He had practiced freedom from passion while still in a mortal nature, and he now awaits the immortality of the body. Here I end my account of this story and will go on to another. I beg the saints who figure in this story to win for me, by their intercession, favor from above.

Chapter 3

3a How could we worthily admire Marcianus, that truly remarkable man? Plainly we must rank him with Elijah and John and those like them, who went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, afflicted, ill-treated, men of whom this world was not worthy, wandering in deserts and mountains and caves and the holes of the earth. His homeland was once Cyrrhus, which I mentioned earlier. After that it was the desert. Now he has left both of these and has heaven. The first gave him birth, the second nourished him and made him a victor, and the third has received him as one crowned. He despised the splendor of his family, for he came from noble stock. He despised the brilliance of the royal court, for he had flourished there. The Creator had given him a tall body and natural beauty, and he had a soul adorned with sharp intelligence. But he transferred his love to God and the things of God. He bade everyone farewell and went to the very center of the desert. There he built a tiny hut, not even fitted to the size of his body, and surrounded it with another small enclosure. He shut himself in continually, cut off from all human company. He conversed with the Master of all and listened to that sweet voice. When he read the divine oracles, he believed he was enjoying the divine voice. When he prayed and offered his petitions, he was himself holding a conversation with the Master. And though he always enjoyed such delight, he never wished to have his fill of it. For he had heard the divine Spirit singing through the great David: the one who meditates on the law of the Lord day and night will be like a tree planted by the streams of water, which will give its fruit in its season, and its leaf will not fall off. Longing for these fruits, he embraced this sweetest labor. Psalm-singing followed prayer, prayer followed psalm-singing, and the reading of the divine oracles followed both again. His only food was bread, and that was brought to him by weight. The weight was so small that it would not have met the need of a child just weaned. They say that the pound of bread was divided into four parts and shared out over four days, one portion given each day.

3b He had decided to eat once a day, in the evening, and never to be filled. He meant always to be hungry and always to be thirsty, and to give the body only what was enough to keep it alive. For he used to say that a man who takes food only after several days does his service to the Master more weakly on the days of fasting. Then on the day he does eat, he will naturally take more, and so he loads his stomach. Once weighed down, it makes the soul sluggish for keeping watch. So he said it was better to take food every day, and never to put up with being full. “For true fasting is constant want.” This divine man kept laying down these rules. Yet his body was very large, and he was the tallest and most handsome man of his time, and he kept it alive on a little food. After some time he took in two companions. One was Eusebius, who became heir of that holy hut. The other was Agapetus, who transplanted this angelic way of life to the territory of Apamea. There is a very large and populous village there called Nicerte. In it he built two very large schools of philosophy. One was named after himself. The other was named after the admirable Symeon, who shone in this philosophy for fifty years. In these communities to this day more than four hundred men live, athletes of virtue and lovers of godliness, buying heaven with their labors. The lawgivers of this way of life were Agapetus and Symeon, who had received the laws from the great Marcianus. From these houses countless other dwellings for ascetics have been planted, adorned with the same rules; they are not easy to count. But the planter of all of them was that inspired man. For the one who supplied the best seed may rightly be called the cause of the good things that grew from it. At first, then, as I said, he had that voluntary prison to himself alone. Afterward he took in these two, but did not keep them as housemates. For the little cell was not enough even for him alone. It was extremely small, and gave him much trouble whether he stood or lay down.

3c He could not stand upright, because the roof bent his head and neck. And when he lay down he could not stretch out his feet, because the length of the house did not match his body. So he allowed the two to build another cell, ordered them to live in that one, and told them to sing hymns, pray and read the divine Scriptures by themselves. Then, since more people needed to share in this benefit, he instructed that another dwelling be built at some distance, and told those who wished to live there to do so. Eusebius led them, passing on the teaching of the great Marcianus. That divine Agapetus, once he had been trained and exercised as he should be and had been taught this athletic discipline thoroughly, went back, as I said, and sowed the seeds he had received from that holy soul. He became so famous and so admired that he was thought worthy of the bishop’s chair, was entrusted with the care of a shepherd, and was given charge of his own native city. The admirable Eusebius, who presided over the flock gathered there, also took on the teacher’s care. He alone was allowed to visit Marcianus at the proper time and ask whether he wanted anything. Once he wished to see by night what Marcianus was doing, and dared to come near the little window through which the light came, which was small. He looked in and saw a light that was not from a lamp and not made by hands, but given by God. It was a light of grace from above, flashing from the teacher’s head, and it showed him the lettering of the divine Scriptures. For Marcianus happened to be holding a book, and was searching out the inviolable treasure of the divine will. When the admirable Eusebius saw this, he was filled with fear and trembling. He learned how much grace had been poured out on the divine servant, and he learned God’s good will toward his servants. At another time, while the great Marcianus was praying in the forecourt, a serpent crept up the wall that faced east. From the top of the wall it peered over, mouth open and glaring fiercely, showing its intention to attack. Eusebius, standing far off, was terrified at that dreadful sight. Supposing that his teacher did not know, he pointed it out with a shout and begged him to flee.

3d Marcian rebuked him and told him to throw off his fear, for fear too, he said, is a deadly passion. With his finger he traced the sign of the cross in front of the creature, and then he breathed on it with his mouth, and so showed the old enmity. The serpent, as if set alight by the breath of his mouth like a fire, was burned up like straw and fell apart in many pieces. Notice, then, how he imitated the Master like a loyal servant. For when the sea once raged against the disciples’ boat and the Master saw them in anguish, he did not calm the storm of the sea until he had first ended the disciples’ unbelief by rebuking it. The wonderful man had learned this lesson from that example: he first took away his disciple’s fear, and only then handed the beast over to punishment. Such was the wisdom of the great Marcian, such his working of wonders, and such his boldness toward God. Yet although he had been counted worthy of such grace and could work great wonders, he was eager to hide his power, because he was wary of the schemes of that thief of virtue. For the one who sows the passion of vainglory tries to rob us of the fruits we have gathered by toil. But though he was determined to hide the grace given to him, he worked wonders against his will, since the brilliance of his achievements flashed out and exposed the power he kept hidden. This is how it once happened. A man of noble family, who had often been entrusted with military commands, came from Beroea in Syria. His daughter had for a long time been raving, tormented by an evil demon and in a frenzy. He reached the desert. He was a friend of the great Marcian and, because of their earlier friendship, expected to meet him and plead with him. But his hope was disappointed, and he was denied the sight of the servant of God. So he begged an old man, who at that time had been given charge of attending the holy man, to take a small flask full of oil and place it beside the door of the little hut. The old man refused to take the task on, many times, but when he was urged many times again, he gave way to the entreaty. The great Marcian heard the noise and asked who it was and what he needed in coming.

3e The old man hid the true reason and pretended that he had come to learn whether Marcian had any command for him; with this answer he was sent away. Toward dawn the girl’s father begged again that the flask be given back to him. The old man, though afraid, went quietly as best he could, stretched out his hand, took the flask, and tried to escape notice. But Marcian again asked what he wanted. When the old man gave the same excuse he had given in the evening, the holy man was displeased, since the old man’s coming was contrary to custom, and he ordered him to tell the truth. Trembling and afraid, and unable to hide anything from a man so full of divine grace, he said who had come, told the whole tragic story of the girl’s suffering, and showed the flask. Marcian was angry, as one would expect, since he did not want his virtue to be displayed. But he threatened that if the old man ever dared such a thing again, he would be deprived of living with him and have his service taken away. To those who know what is gained by it, that was the greatest loss. Then he sent him off with orders to give the flask back to the one who had given it. So Marcian gave that order. Meanwhile the demon, who was four stages away from the one driving it out, was crying out about his power. In Beroea Marcian was doing the work of judges, using the demon’s own cries as though they were executioners against it, driving out that wretch and showing the girl cleansed of its working. The girl’s father learned this exactly. As he was returning and was only a few stades from the city, a servant met him, sent to the countryside by his mistress. When this man saw his master, he brought him the good news of the miracle that had taken place, saying that the wonder had happened four days earlier. The father counted the days and checked the time carefully, and learned that it was the very time when the old man had carried out the flask. As for me, I think of what this great man would not have done if he had wished to work wonders. For if, though he was eager to hide the grace he had received, he gave off so much brightness, what marvels would he not have worked had he wanted to?

3f In the same way he did not show his spiritual wisdom to everyone. Even at the end of his life he allowed those who wished to come in to him only after the feast of the Savior’s passion and the Lord’s resurrection. At that season, of course, everyone was eager to see him. Once the leading bishops gathered and came to him: the great Flavian, who had been entrusted with shepherding the Antiochenes; the holy Acacius, whom I mentioned earlier; Eusebius of Chalcis; and Isidore, who was then entrusted with the governing of Cyrrhus, all of them distinguished for virtue. With them was Theodotus, who held the reins of the church of Hierapolis, a man who shone in discipline and gentleness. Some men of rank and office were present too, who kept the spark of faith alive. Everyone sat in silence, waiting for his sacred voice. He too sat silent for a long time, with his tongue idle but his hearing active. Then one of those seated, who was familiar with him through his care for his soul and was also a man of distinction, said: “Father, all of us here, and the holy fathers too, are thirsty for your teaching and are waiting for your sweet streams. Share the benefit with everyone present, and do not hold back the springs of kindness.” He groaned deeply and said: “The God of all speaks every day through creation. He speaks through the divine Scriptures, advises what is needed, sets out what is profitable, frightens us with threats, and urges us on with promises, and we gain no benefit from it. So how could Marcianus profit you by speaking? You are sent away with so much benefit along with the others, and you do not want to find help from there.” This prompted many speeches from the fathers, which I thought it unnecessary to put into the narrative. They rose and prayed, and wanted to lay hands on him to ordain him to the priesthood, but they were afraid to try it again. One urged the other on, and the other urged the first, and in the end all alike gave up the attempt and made their way home. But I want to add another story to these, which is a mark of his divine understanding.

3g A certain Abitus was the first to set up an ascetic hut in the other desert. It lies farther north than Marcianus’s, and a little to the east, toward the north wind that approaches the east wind. This man was older than the great Marcianus both in years and in labor, a true philosopher, brought up in a hard way of life. He learned that the man’s virtue was being talked about everywhere. He judged that seeing such a man was worth more than his small quiet, and he ran in haste to see the one he longed for. When the great Marcianus learned of his arrival, he opened the door and welcomed him. He told the admirable Eusebius to boil some pulse, and some vegetables if he had any. When they had had their fill of talking with each other and had come to know each other’s virtue, they performed the service of the ninth hour together. Then Eusebius came in carrying a table and bringing bread. The great Marcianus said to the godlike Abitus, “Come, dearest of all to me, and let us share this table.” He answered, “I have never known myself to take food before evening. Often I even go two or three days without eating.” The great Marcianus said, “For my sake, then, let the custom be changed today. My body is weak, and I cannot wait for evening.” When even this did not persuade the admirable Abitus, Marcianus is said to have sighed and said, “I am very discouraged, and my heart is stung, that you endured so great a labor to see someone who loves toil and loves wisdom, and that, cheated of your hope, you have seen a huckster and a profligate instead of a philosopher.” The most godly Abitus was distressed at this and said he would rather eat meat than hear such words. The great Marcianus said, “We too, my friend, follow the same life as you and embrace the same way of living. We prefer toil to rest and choose fasting over food, and when night comes, only then do we take a share of it. But we know that love is worth more than fasting. The one is the work of divine law, the other is a matter of our own power. And it is right to count the divine laws far more precious than our own labors.”

3h After talking together like this, they shared a little food, sang hymns to God, and spent three days with each other. Then they parted, still seeing one another in the Spirit. Who would not admire this man’s wisdom? Guided by it, he knew the proper time for fasting, and the proper time for philosophy and for love of the brethren. He also knew the difference between the parts of virtue, which should give way to which, and to which one should award the prize at the right moment. I have another story as well, a proof of his perfection in divine things. His sister came to him from his homeland with her son, who was a grown man and one of the leading citizens of Cyrrhus. She brought him a generous supply of what he needed. He would not bear to see his sister, but he received his nephew, for it was the time appointed for visitors. They begged him to accept what they had brought. He said, “How many monasteries did you pass on the way? Which of them did you give any of this to?” The nephew said they had given to none. “Then go away with what you brought,” he said. “We need none of it, and if we did need it, we would not accept it. You were thinking of natural kinship, not of service to God, when you chose to show us this kindness. If you honored only the closeness of family, you would not have shared what you brought with us alone.” With these words he sent his nephew away along with his sister, and he would not allow even the smallest part of their gifts to be accepted. So far was he outside nature, and so completely had he moved over to the citizenship of heaven. What clearer example could anyone give that he was worthy of God, according to God’s own word? For he says, “Whoever does not leave father and mother and brothers and sisters and wife and children is not worthy of me.” And if the one who does not leave them is unworthy, then the one who does leave them, and shows such exact perfection, was clearly most worthy. Besides these things, I also admire the precision of his doctrine. He loathed the madness of Arius, which was then being fanned by imperial power. He also detested the mental disorder of Apollinarius.

3i He also fought bravely against those who hold the views of Sabellius and gather the three hypostases into one. He turned completely away from the so-called Euchites, who suffered from the Manichaean sickness under a monastic disguise. His zeal for the teachings of the Church was so hot that he even entered into a just quarrel with a man who was admirable and godly. There was in that desert a man named Abraames, an old man with grey hair and a still greyer mind, shining with every virtue, and always welling up the tears of compunction. At the beginning, led by a kind of simplicity, he accepted celebrating the Pascha at the earlier date. He was ignorant, as one would expect, of what the Fathers had laid down about this at Nicaea, and he chose to keep to an ancient custom. Many others at that time suffered from the same ignorance. The great Marcian, after many conversations, tried to bring the old man Abraames (for that is what the locals called him) into agreement with the Church. When he saw that Abraames would not be persuaded, he openly withdrew from communion with him. But after some time that godly man threw off his fault and came to love agreement in the holy feast, and he sang truthfully, “Blessed are the blameless in the way, who walk in the law of the Lord.” This too was an achievement of the great Marcian’s teaching. Many people in many places built shrines for prayer to honor him. In Cyrrhus his nephew Alypius did so. In Chalcis a woman named Zenobiane did so, distinguished in birth and outstanding in virtue, and abounding in wealth. Quite a few others did the same, each competing to seize that victorious athlete for herself. When the man of God learned of this, he urged the admirable Eusebius, binding him with oaths full of every dread, to lay his body in that place, and to let no one know the tomb except two of the closest members of the household, until a great number of years had passed. That admirable man fulfilled the oath. When the end of the victor came, and a choir of angels carried that holy and godly soul to the dwellings in heaven, Eusebius did not announce his death until he had dug the grave with the two who knew him best, laid the body in it, and leveled the surface of the ground.

3j Fifty years or more went by. Countless people ran together and searched for his body, yet the tomb stayed hidden. But each of the shrines I mentioned had received relics, some of apostles and some of martyrs. So the heirs of his dwelling and his teaching took courage. Two years ago they made a stone coffin and moved the relics of the honored body into it. One man pointed out the tomb, for he alone of the three was still alive. The admirable Eusebius became a zealous imitator of Marcian’s virtue, and he wore down his body with ever more labors. He put on himself one hundred and twenty pounds of iron. To these he added the other fifty pounds that the most godly Agapetus had worn, and then the eighty pounds of the great Marcian. For his dwelling he had a pit with no water in it, and he lived in it like this for three years. I have gone into these matters because I want to show how many other great achievements the great Marcian was responsible for. The admirable Basil also benefited from his way of life. Many years later Basil built a monastic lodging near Seleucobelus, a city of Syria. He shone in many kinds of virtue, and shone especially in the God-loved possession of love and in the divine work of hospitality. Who could easily count how many workers he presented to God, to speak as the apostle did, who had no need to be ashamed and who rightly handled the word of truth? To pass over the others for now, though they deserve praise and would make my account too long, I will mention only one of them. There was a pupil of his whom they called Sabinus, who wore out his body with countless labors. He ate no bread and no relish of any kind. His food was flour moistened with water. He used to mix a whole month’s food at once, so that it went moldy and gave off a heavy stench. By this kind of food he wanted to dull the appetites of the body, and by the stench of his food to wither pleasure. Living by himself in this way, whenever one of his acquaintances came, he would eat simply of everything that was set before them.

3k Such grace did he receive from God that a woman of distinction, proud of her family and her wealth, came running to him from Antioch. She begged him to help her daughter, who was being attacked by a demon. “In a dream,” she said, “I saw someone run here, urging me and promising that through the prayers of the head of the monastery my daughter would be saved.” The man who answered the door told her that it was not the custom for the head of the house to speak with women. But the woman kept pressing him, weeping, wailing, and pleading bitterly, and the head of the monastery came out. The woman said that it was not he, and that the man shown to her was a ruddy one, with some blotches on his cheeks. When they realized who it was she was looking for, who was third in rank in the monastery and not first, they persuaded him to come to the woman. At once she recognized the face, and the wicked demon cried out and left the girl. Such were the achievements of the pupils of the great Marcian. Such were the plants that this excellent planter set everywhere. And I, having brought this account to its end, beg and pray that through the intercession of all these men I may obtain help from God.