Chapter XII: Part II: The King’s House (3)

This Body He gave to us to take and eat, which was an act of exceeding love.[24] For it often happens that we bite those whom we love. Thus, when Job pointed out the affection of his household for himself, he quoted those who loved him specially as often saying, _Who will give us to be filled with his flesh?_ So it is that Christ has given us to be filled with His Flesh, drawing us to greater love. Let us, therefore, approach Him with fervour and burning love, that we may not encounter the harder chastisement. For the more we are benefitted, the greater will be our punishment whenever we show ourselves unworthy of His generosity. This Body, even lying in the manger, the Magi reverenced: untutored and uncivilised men, leaving their country and their home, undertook a long journey, they came and adored, full of awe and fear. Let us, citizens of heaven, emulate even uncivilised men, if necessary. _They_, seeing Him in a manger, and in a hut, and not seeing Him as you see Him, approached Him with deep reverence: you see Him not in the crib, but on the altar: you see Him not held by a woman, but the priest standing there, and the Spirit hovering with abundant blessings over what is lying there. Nor do you merely see this Body as they did: _you_ know His power and all the economy of His providence, nor are you ignorant of anything accomplished through Him, initiated as you are into all His mysteries. Let us therefore rouse ourselves, and tremble, and show forth so much the greater reverence than those men from afar, in order that we may not approach Him heedlessly or casually, and so heap coals of fire upon our heads. This I say, not that we may not approach Him, but that we may not approach Him carelessly. For just as going to Him in a chance way is a danger, so the non-participation in that mystical Banquet is hunger and death. This Feast is the sinew of our soul, the bond of intellect, the basis of fortitude; it is hope, salvation, light, life. With this sacrifice, at our departure from this world to the next, we shall pass through those sacred portals in great fearlessness, as if encompassed with an armour of gold. And why do I speak of the future? Even here this mystery makes the earth a heaven for you. At least unfold the gates of heaven and look through them, or rather not only the gates of heaven, but of the heaven of heavens, and then you will see what I say. For that which is the most precious of all things there, is what I will show you lying on earth. Just as in royal palaces it is not the walls which strike men with the most awe, nor the golden ceilings, but the person of the king sitting on his throne, so in heaven is it the King’s Body. Yet this is what you may now see on earth. I am showing you not angels, nor archangels, nor the heavens, nor the heaven of heavens, but the Lord of all these Himself. Do you understand how it is that you see the most precious thing of all upon earth? And not only do you see it, but you also touch it? And not only touch it, but you eat it, and, receiving it, you take it away with you? Cleanse, therefore, your soul; prepare your mind for the reception of these mysteries. If, now, you were judged worthy to carry a royal child in state, with his kingly robes and his diadem, you would give up everything on earth for it. And, here, receiving not a royal child of man, but the very only begotten Son of God, tell me, do you not tremble, and renounce the love of all earthly things, and adorn yourself only for that world to come, or have you still your eyes fixed on the earth, do you still love money, and anxiously crave for gold? What pardon could you look for, or what excuse would you have? Know you not how Our Lord turns His back upon all worldly luxury? Was not this His reason for being born and laid in a manger, and for choosing a mother who was poor? Was it not for this that He said to the man who looked to worldly traffic: _The Son of man has not whereon to lay His head_? And what of His disciples? Did not they carry out the same law, lodging at the houses of the poor, one going to a tanner’s, another to a tent-maker’s, another to the woman selling purple? They did not seek for illustrious houses, but for upright minds. Let us then emulate their example; looking beyond the beauty of pillars and marbles, seeking only for the mansions above, let us trample under foot all vanities here below, together with the lust for money, and take up a lofty mind. For if we be sober and watchful, the world itself will not be worthy of us, much less the Stoic portico or the Peripatetic walk. Therefore, I repeat, let us adorn our souls, let us prepare this dwelling-place, which we shall take with us when we depart, so that we may possess the eternal tents through the grace and love of Our Lord Jesus Christ, to Whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

Remembrance of the Dead.
(_Homilies on Epistle to the Philippians_, iv., vol. v., p. 36.)

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Let us, then, not simply grieve for the dead, nor simply rejoice in the living. Then what shall we do? Let us grieve for sinners not when dead alone, but when living also; and let us be glad over the just not in their lifetime only, but when they have departed hence. Sinners even living are dead, whilst the just, who are dead, live: sinners are an object of pity to all men even here because they have quarrelled with God, so are the just blessed in that place, since they have gone to Christ. Sinners, wherever they are, are far from the King, and therefore deserve tears, but the just, whether here or there, are with the King; _there_ they are more with Him and nearer to Him, not by their going in, nor by faith, but face to face. Let us, then, not weep simply for the dead but for those in sin: these call for tears, for lamentation and weeping. For, tell me, what hope is there of those who depart in sins to that place where sins are not put off? As long as they were here, the probability was great that they might be converted and become better. But if they go to the other world, there is nothing to be gained from contrition. _In hell_, he says, _who shall give praise to Thee_? Let us weep for those who thus depart. I do not forbid it, only not in an unseemly fashion, not plucking out our hair, nor baring our arms, nor tearing our face, nor wearing black, but only in shedding a bitter tear according to the spirit in secret. Without these accompaniments we may weep bitterly, and not be contented with a show, for what some people have done differs in nothing from a show. For instance, those who beat themselves at the market-place do it not from sympathy, but for display and for self-seeking and vainglory, and many women so treat themselves as a business speculation. Weep bitterly, groan at home when no one is looking: this is sympathy, and this will be helpful to you also. For, in grieving for another, you will be all the more zealous never to fall in the same way, and you will tremble at sin ever afterwards. Weep for unbelievers, for those who are not different from unbelievers, who depart hence without baptism, without being signed with the seal: these should have tears and wailings, they are outside the royal palace with those awaiting judgment and with the condemned. _Amen, I say to you, unless a man be born of water and the Spirit, he shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven._ Weep for those who have died in riches, and have devised no comfort for their own souls out of their wealth, who have received power to wash away their sins, and have not willed to do it. Weep all of you for these both in secret and in public, but with decorum and reverence, not making a show of yourselves. Let us shed tears over these not for one day, nor two, but during our whole life. This is no foolish weeping, but the weeping of affection; the other is senseless, and therefore it soon spends itself. Grief which is born of the fear of God endures for ever. Let us weep for these and help them as much as we can. Let us devise some succour for them; it may be a slight thing, but let us somehow do it. How and in what manner? By praying and inviting others to pray for them, by constantly giving alms to the poor for them. This deed has its consolation. Listen to God’s words: _I will protect this city for Myself and for David, My servant_. If the mere remembrance of a just man could do so much, what will works done for him not be able to accomplish? Not in vain was it ordained by the Apostles that the dead should be commemorated at the tremendous mysteries: they knew what a great gain and benefit it would be to the dead. For when a whole people stands with uplifted hands in full and sacred assembly, and the awful sacrifice is lying before us, how shall we not reach God in our prayer for them? But this applies to those who have died in the faith. With regard to catechumens they are not deemed worthy of this consolation; they lack all such succour, save in one particular. What is this? We may give alms for them to the poor, and the action brings them a certain refreshment, because God wills us to be of use to each other. For why did He command us to pray for the peace and well-being of the world, or, again, for all men? Although there are thieves, and tomb-despoilers, and plunderers, and men full of every sort of evil amongst the whole number, yet we still pray for them all. Perhaps there may be a conversion of some. Now, as we pray for the living who do not differ from the dead, so we may pray for the departed. Job offered sacrifices for his children, and freed them from their sins. _Lest perhaps_, he said, _they have sinned in their hearts_. Thus is a man provident for his children. He did not say, as the multitude of men _do_ say, ‘I will leave them possessions,’ nor a fine name, nor, ‘I will buy an office,’ nor fields, but what, _Lest perhaps they have sinned in their hearts_. For what is the profit of those things? None, of things that remain here below. _I will make_, he says, _the King of all propitious to them: and then nothing is wanting to them_. _The Lord is my Shepherd, and I shall lack for nothing._ Here are great riches, here are treasures. If we have the fear of God we want nothing, but without it, even if we have a kingdom, we are the poorest of men. A God-fearing man has no equal. The fear of the Lord exceeds all things. This let us possess, and let us do all things unto this end: even if we have to give up our life, or our body to be cut in pieces, let us not fear: let us do all our actions in order to gain this fear. Thus shall we become richer than all, and arrive at the goods to come in Christ Jesus Our Lord, to Whom, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, be honour, power, and glory, now and for ever. Amen.

The Departed at the Sacred Mysteries.
(_Homilies on First Epistle to Corinthians_, xli., vol. ii., p. 524.)

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Since, then, we are to enjoy goods so great, let us join ourselves to that company which is as bright as the sun, and let us not weep for those who depart hence, but for those who make a bad end. For, as the husbandman does not grieve over his seed dissolved, but is in fear and anxiety as long as it remains solid, so he rejoices when he sees that it _is_ dissolved. For dissolution is the beginning of the future generating. So let us also rejoice when the corruptible habitation perishes, and man is generated. And wonder not if Paul called the burying a generating, for this is the better generating of the two. Death, labours, dangers, cares, succeed the one; whilst for the other, if we have lived righteously, we receive crowns and rewards: corruption and death succeed the one; incorruption, immortality, and a thousand goods succeed the other. In the one generating there is embracing, pleasure, sleep; in the other there is only the voice coming down from heaven, and all things accomplished in the twinkling of an eye. And he who rises is no more driven to a laborious life, but he will be where pain and sorrow and lamentation have fled away. If, however, you are seeking for a protector, and weep over the man on this account, fly for refuge to God, the common Protector, and Saviour, and Benefactor of all: to the almighty Friend, to the never-failing Succour, to the lasting Shelter, Who is everywhere and always holding us up. ‘But,’ you say, ‘the intercourse was pleasant and fascinating.’ I know it was. Still, if you meet your suffering with your reason, and consider in yourself who it is that has taken him, and that if you bear it bravely, you offer up your wish as a sacrifice to God, you will be borne aloft even over this wave, and Christian principle will effect what the action of time does; but if you are pusillanimous, time will weaken your passion without bringing you a reward. Together with these recollections, ponder on the examples offered both in this present life and in Holy Scripture. Consider how Abraham slaughtered his own son, neither shedding tears nor uttering a bitter word. ‘But _he_ was Abraham,’ you say. Yet you are called to greater conflicts. Job, indeed, showed sorrow as a loving father would who mourns over those departing from him. Now _we_ show the grief of foes and enemies. For if a man were summoned to a palace and crowned, and you were to beat your breast and be in sorrow at it, I should say you were not a friend to the man crowned, but a determined adversary and hater. ‘I am not weeping for him,’ you say, ‘but for myself.’ Neither is this the part of a lover—the wishing him to be still in conflict on your account, to be left in uncertainty as to the future, instead of being crowned, or to be tossing on the sea when he might be resting in harbour. ‘But,’ you say, ‘I know not where he has gone.’ How is it that you do not know? This will be evident from the fact of his having lived righteously or the reverse. ‘And as he departed in sin, this is the very reason why I am tormented.’ What you say is a mere pretext. If this is why you mourn over a dead man, you should have taken pains with the living one and set him right. You are throughout thinking of your own interests, not of his. If, indeed, he departed hence in sin, you should rejoice that his sins were stopped and that he did not continue in evil, and you should help him by those means which are in your power: not by tears, but by prayers, and supplications, and alms-giving, and offerings. It is not by chance that these things have been ordered, nor is it due to haphazard that we commemorate the dead at the sacred mysteries, and that we succour them by supplication to the Lamb, Who is lying there, Who takes away the sins of the world, but that they may derive hence some consolation. Nor is it without reason that he who is standing by the altar, as the sacred mysteries are performed, utters this cry: for all those who have fallen asleep in Christ, and for those who make commemoration in their behalf. For if commemoration were not made for them, this would not be said. Our mysteries are no theatrical display. God forbid! These things take place by the disposition of the Spirit. Therefore, let us help them, and make commemoration in their behalf. For if Job’s sacrifice purified his children, why do you doubt that the departed receive comfort when we too offer sacrifice for them? God is wont to give graces to some on behalf of others. And this Paul also showed, saying _that for this gift obtained for us, by the means of many persons, thanks may be given by many in our behalf_. Let us not weary of helping the departed, both by offering sacrifice and claiming intercession for them. For the sacrifice which saves the whole world is before us. Therefore we pray confidently at it for what concerns the world, and we name them with martyrs, and confessors, and pontiffs. For we are all one body, even if certain members be more resplendent than others; and everywhere we may be gaining forgiveness for them, by prayers, by offerings made for them, by those who are named with them. Why, then, do you grieve and weep, when you are able to apply so great a forgiveness to him who has departed? Is it because you have become lonely, and have lost your protector? But you ought never to say this, because you have not lost God. As long as you possess Him, He will be more to you than any man, be he father, child, or near relation; for even when these were living, it was He in reality Who did everything.

The Tombs of the Martyrs.
(_Homily on the Martyrs, Benedictine Edition_, t. ii., p. 667.)

The feasts of the martyrs are not according to the course of days only, but they are reckoned also by the disposition of those who celebrate them. For instance, have you imitated a martyr, have you emulated his goodness, have you pressed on in the footsteps of his ascetic life? Then, though it is not a martyr’s day, you have celebrated a martyr’s feast. For to honour a martyr is to imitate him. Just as evil-doers are feastless in the midst of feasts, so the righteous, even if there be no solemnity, have carried out one. The feast is characterised by purity of conscience. This Paul expressed clearly: _Therefore, let us keep the feast not in the old leaven of evil and wickedness, but in the unleavened bread of purity and truth_. There is, then, unleavened bread amongst the Jews, and so there is amongst us; but with them it consists of wheaten flour, with us in a pure life and in remaining spotless. Thus, he who wards off every stain keeps a feast every day, is ever celebrating a solemnity not only on the feast of the martyr or at his shrine, but also sitting at home. Every man can keep the martyr’s feast by himself. In saying this I do not mean that we should _not_ go to the tombs of the martyrs. I mean that, being there, we should frequent these places with befitting devotion, not only on their days, but that we should show the same piety out of their days. Who would not revere this gathering of ours to-day, this splendid sight, the fervent charity and glowing spirit, the boundless love, which are here manifested? Nearly all the city has been eager to come; fear of his master has not withheld the servant; no straits of poverty, no feebleness of age, have kept the poor or the old away; no tenderness of sex in women, no extreme of luxury has hindered the rich, no folly of power the ruler. But a longing for the martyrs vanquishing all such disparity, both the weakness of nature and the stress of poverty hold together by one bond the vast multitude gathered here, who are moved by the wings of this desire to live the life of the heavenly citizens. For, treading under foot all allurements to excess and wickedness, you are consumed with longing for the martyrs. As with the dawn of day wild animals flee away and take shelter in their own holes, so when the light of the martyrs bursts upon our minds all diseases are put to flight and the bright flame of mortification is enkindled. And let us keep this fire alive not now only, but always, when this spiritual spectacle has been broken up; let us retire to our own homes with the same fervour, not giving ourselves up to taverns, or dissoluteness, or drunkenness, or feastings. You have made night into day through these sacred vigils: do not again make day into night through inebriation, and gluttony, and meretricious songs. You have honoured the martyrs by your presence, your attention, and your fervour: honour them by going modestly home, lest anyone seeing you taking your ease in a low place should say that you came not on account of the martyrs, but to increase your passion and to incite your bad desires. This I say, prohibiting not feasting but sin, prohibiting not wine but drunkenness. It is not the wine which is evil, it is intemperance. Wine is the gift of God, intemperance is the devil’s invention.... Intemperance is ever an evil, beloved brethren, and most of all on the feast day of the martyrs. Together with the sin, it is a most open contempt and folly and putting aside of the divine words; hence the chastisement would be double. If, therefore, you have come to the martyrs and mean afterwards to drink, you had better remain at home and not shame nor insult the martyrs’ feast, nor scandalise your neighbour, nor distort your understanding, nor add to your sins. You came to look upon men who were racked with torments, covered with blood, and adorned with wounds, who gave up this present life and took their flight to the life above. Show yourself worthy of those wrestlers. _They_ despised life, do _you_ despise luxury; they renounced their life in this world, do you renounce the craving for drink. Do you wish for feasting? Remain by the martyr’s tomb, weep there a fountain of tears, grieve in your mind, take a blessing from that tomb. Let it assist you in your prayers; make the account of his fight your constant reading; embrace the coffin; nail yourself to the shrine. Not only the bones of the martyrs, but their tombs also and their coffins, produce an abundant blessing. Take holy oil and sign your whole body with it, your tongue, your lips, your throat and eyes, and you will avoid the abyss of drunkenness.

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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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