Religious History (Lives of the Syrian Monks) (chapters 4–11)

Religious History (Lives of the Syrian Monks)

continued

Chapter 4

4a I have already shown, in the accounts written so far, what kind of fruit the unfruitful desert has offered to God. It was ripe and mature, dear to the One who planted it, and lovely and greatly longed for by sensible people. But no one should suppose that virtue is confined to a place, or that only the desert is fit to bear such a harvest. So let us now move in our account to the inhabited world, and show that it is no hindrance at all to gaining the philosophic life. There is a high mountain east of Antioch and west of Beroea. It stands above the mountains around it, and its highest summit has the shape of a cone. It takes its name from its height, for the people who live around it call it “the Peak.” Long ago, right at its summit, there was a precinct of demons that the neighbors honored greatly. To the south a plain lies spread out like a bay, enclosed on both sides by ridges that are not very high. These ridges reach as far as the road used by horsemen, and they take in the paths that run down on either side from south to north. In this plain there are settlements, small and large, joined to the mountains on both sides. Right at the foot of the high mountain there is a very large and populous village, which they call Teledan in the local language. Above the foothills there is a glen. It is not very steep, but slopes moderately toward that plain and faces the south wind. In this glen a man named Ammian built a school of philosophy. He shone in many kinds of virtue, but above all he surpassed others in his modest way of thinking. The proof is this. He was well able to teach not only his own company but twice as many, and yet he often ran to the great [Eusebius], begging him to take a part with him, as a trainer and teacher in the wrestling-school Ammian had set up. [Eusebius] lived twenty-five stades away, shut up in a very small dwelling that did not even have windows. Marianos had led him to this way of virtue. Marianos was his uncle and a faithful servant of God.

4b It is enough to say that much, since the Master honored the great Moses with this same title. This Marianos had tasted divine love, and he did not want to enjoy the good things alone. He made many others fellow-lovers, and he also hunted down the great Eusebius and Eusebius’s brother, who was a brother in manner of life as well. For he thought it unreasonable to catch for virtue people who were nothing to him, and to leave his own nephews uncaught. He shut both of them in a small cell and trained them in the angelic way of life. But illness struck the brother and cut short his race, and death followed the illness. He lived only a few days after leaving that place, and then he reached the end of his life. The great Eusebius, however, stayed there for the whole life of his uncle. He spoke with no one and did not see the light, but remained shut in continually. After his uncle’s death he still held to this way of life, until the marvelous Ammian won him over with many entreaties and persuaded him. “Tell me, excellent man,” Ammian said to him, “whom do you think you please, that you have taken up this toilsome and squalid life?” Eusebius answered, as was natural, that it was God, the lawgiver and teacher of virtue. “Then since you love him,” said Ammian, “I will show you a way by which you will kindle your love further and also serve the One you love. To spend all one’s care on oneself would not, I think, escape the charge of self-love. For the divine law commands us to love our neighbor as ourselves. But to take many into a share of one’s wealth is the mark of success in love. The inspired Paul called this love the fulfillment of the law. And the word cries out again: ‘The law and the prophets are summed up in this saying, in “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”’ And in the holy Gospels the Lord told Peter, who had confessed that he loved him more than the others did, to shepherd his sheep. To those who have not done this he cries out in complaint through the prophet: ‘O shepherds! Surely shepherds do not feed themselves, do they? Do they not tend the sheep?’”

4c It was for this reason that he commanded the great Elijah, when he pursued this way of life, to live among the godless. And the second Elijah, John, that great man, who loved the desert, he sent to the banks of the Jordan, and there ordered him to baptize and to preach. So since you too are a warm lover of the God who made and saved you, make many others lovers along with you. For this is very dear to our common Master. That is why he named Ezekiel a watchman and ordered him to bear witness against sinners. And he commanded Jonah to run to Nineveh, and when Jonah was unwilling, he sent him off as a prisoner.” With these and similar words Ammianos charmed the divine man. He broke through that self-chosen prison, led Eusebios out and took him away, and handed over to him the care of the brothers. I do not know which I should admire more: the humility of the one, or the readiness to obey of the other. For Ammianos kept running away from leadership. He preferred to be one of those under authority, since he was wary of the danger of presiding over others. And the great Eusebios shrank from living with a larger company. Yet he yielded, and caught in the nets of love he accepted the care of the flock and led the choir. He did not need many words to teach, for the sight of him was enough to make even the very slowest man quick to run the race of virtue. Those who saw him say that his face was always stern and put considerable fear into those who looked at him. He himself took food only every three or four days, but he ordered his companions to share a meal every other day. He urged them to converse with God continually and to let no time go without this work. They were to perform the appointed services together. But in the parts of the day between these, each one was to be by himself, either in the shade of a tree, or beside a rock, or wherever he could enjoy some quiet, and standing or lying on the ground, to plead with the Master and ask for salvation.

4d Eusebios so trained each part of his body in virtue that it did only what reason alone allowed. To make this clear to everyone, I will tell one story about him. He and the wonderful Ammianos were sitting on a certain rock. One was reading the account in the holy Gospels, and the other was explaining the meaning of the obscure parts. Some farm laborers in the plain below were breaking up new ground, and the great Eusebios was drawn to watch them. Ammianos, the divine man, had read a passage from the Gospel and was seeking its interpretation, and he told the great Eusebios to take up the reading. But Ammianos said, “You were enjoying the plowmen and, as it seems, did not listen.” So Eusebios laid down a law for his eyes: never again to look at that plain, nor to feast on the beauty of heaven and the chorus of the stars. He used a very narrow path, said to be a span wide, leading to the house of prayer, and he would not bear to walk outside it. They say he lived by this law for more than forty years afterward. So that necessity as well as resolve would pull him to this, he bound his waist with an iron belt and put a very heavy iron collar on his neck. He fastened the belt to the collar with another piece of iron, so that, bent over in this way, he was forced to look down at the ground continually. Such was the penalty he exacted from himself for watching those farmers. Many others who have investigated his life and know his story accurately told me these things. But the great presbyter Acacius, whom I mentioned earlier in other accounts, told me this very story. He said that once, seeing Eusebios bent over, he asked him what benefit he was gaining that he could not bear to look at heaven, or to see that plain below, or to walk outside the narrow path. Eusebios answered that he contrived these things against the schemes of the evil demon.

4e “So that he may not wage war over great matters,” he said, “I try to move the fight to these small things. In great matters he tries to steal my self-control and my righteousness, to arm my temper, to inflame my desire, to make me swell and burn with pride, and whatever else he plots against my soul. In small matters, if he wins, he does no great harm, and if he is beaten, he becomes more of a laughingstock, since he could not prevail even in little things. I know this kind of war is the safer one, because the man who is struck in these matters suffers no great loss. What harm is there in looking at a field, or in lifting the eyes to heaven? So I shift the battle to this ground, for here he can neither kill nor wound. These are not deadly arrows, since they have none of those iron points.” The great Acacius said he heard this, admired the wisdom, and marvelled at the man’s courage and skill in fighting. For this reason I have also set down this story, as worthy of admiration and of remembrance for those who wish to learn such things. His fame ran in every direction and drew to him all who loved virtue. Among them came the sheep of the excellent flock of the most godly Julian the elder, whose story I told earlier. When that inspired man reached the end of his life and passed to the life above, James the Persian and Agrippa, who were the leaders of that flock, ran to the great Eusebius, judging it better to be well led than to lead. Of James I made mention earlier, in summary, showing his virtue; now too I will give a clear proof of his supreme philosophy. When the godly Eusebius was departing this life, he charged James to preside over the flock. James begged to be excused from the care, and though he could not persuade those who wanted to put him in charge, he went off to another flock, choosing to be shepherded rather than to shepherd. He lived a very long time and so ended his life.

4f Agrippa, then, succeeded to the leadership. He was a man adorned with many other good qualities, and above all with purity of soul. Because of this he received a vision of the divine beauty, and, set ablaze by the torch of that love, he kept his cheeks wet with unceasing tears. After he had shepherded that choice and godly flock lawfully for a long time, he departed this life, and the godly David, whom I also had the joy of seeing, took over the leadership. He was a man who had truly put to death, as the divine Apostle says, the members that are upon the earth. He so benefited from the teaching of the great Eusebius that he spent forty-five years in that monastery, and lived that whole time without temper or anger. Even after he became leader, no one ever saw him overcome by this passion, though, as one would expect, countless things pressed him to it. For a hundred and fifty men were shepherded by his hand. Some were at the summit of virtue and imitated the life of heaven. Others had only just grown their wings and were being taught to rise above the earth and fly over it. Yet among so many being trained in divine things, some of them, as one would expect, were also doing wrong, since it is not easy to get everything right with a newcomer [the Greek here is corrupt]. Still that godly man stayed unmoved, like a bodiless being, and no pretext roused him to anger. I learned this not by hearsay only but by experience. I once desired to see that flock, and I went, with others who shared my way of life as companions on the journey. We spent the whole circuit of a week with this godly man, and we saw a face that underwent no change. It was not relaxed at one moment and drawn into a frown at another. His gaze was likewise never fierce at one time and cheerful at another, but his eyes stayed always in the same composure. These things too are enough to prove the calm of his soul. But some may suppose that he was seen like this only because nothing happened to provoke him.

4g That is why I am forced to tell of something that happened in our own presence. That godly man was sitting beside us, stirring up talk about the philosophic life and seeking the highest point of the life of the Gospel. While we were speaking of such things, a man named Olympius came to us. He was a Roman by birth and himself admirable in character, honored with the priesthood, and holding the second place in that community’s leadership. He came shouting against the godly David. He called that gentleness of his a public plague, said that his mildness was ruining everyone, and named that highest philosophy folly, not gentleness. David, as if he had a soul of adamant, took in the words but was not stung by what is made to sting. His face did not change, and he did not drop the discussion he had begun. In a mild voice, and with words that showed the calm weather of his soul, he sent the old man away, asking him to attend to whatever he wished. “But I,” he said, “am talking, as you see, with those who have come to us, since I think this service is necessary.” How could anyone better show the gentleness of the soul? The man entrusted with that leadership received such drunken abuse from the one who held the second place, and especially with strangers present listening to the insult, and yet he endured no storm or turmoil of anger. What excess of courage and endurance does that leave out? The divine Apostle, who had considered the weakness of human nature, measures his legislation by that nature. “Be angry,” he says, “and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your wrath.” He knew that the stirrings of anger belong to nature, not to the will. So he would not lay down a law that was very burdensome, and perhaps impossible. But for the movement of nature and the storm of anger he sets the day as the measure. He commands us to choke it with reason, to press it with the bridle, and not to let it go beyond its limits. This godly man, however, contended beyond the laws laid down, and leapt beyond the jumping pit. He did not allow anger to stir him until evening. He did not allow it to stir him at all.

4h Such were the benefits this man too drew from the company of the great Eusebius. I have also seen many other lovers and zealots of this philosophy at that hut, some in the prime of their bodies and some in deep old age. There were men who had lived more than ninety years and still would not leave the laborious life. They were distinguished by the sweat of youth. They besought God all night and all day and performed those holy services. Every second day they shared those poor meals. I will pass over the others, who deserve not silence but praise and every kind of commendation, so that I do not make the account longer than it should be. There was in that divine place a man they call Abba. He sprang from the stock of Ishmael, yet he was not cut off from the house of Abraham, his forefather. He shared with Isaac the inheritance of the fathers, or rather he seized the very kingdom of heaven. He took up this ascetic life at once, under a man who then lived in the desert and was an excellent trainer in such things. His name was Marosas. Later Marosas also gave up leading others and came with Abba to this flock. He lived no short time, and after contending brilliantly and becoming famous in song, he departed this life. Abba has already spent thirty-eight years there, yet he desires toil as if he had only just begun it. To this day he has never covered his feet with shoes. In the cold he sits in the shade, and in the burning heat he takes the sun, and he receives its flame as if it were a breeze from the west. In all this time he has not allowed himself to take any water. Nor does he eat what is usual for those who practice not drinking, who customarily have moister foods. He eats the same food as the others, but only a little, and such things as give little strength, and he considers the use of water unnecessary.

4i He wears a heavy iron belt around his waist. He seldom sits. For most of the night and day he stands, or kneels, and offers the service of prayer to the Master. He has refused altogether the need to lie down. To this day no one has ever seen him lying down. He has been appointed head of the choir and given charge of the others, and he bears all this labor eagerly, setting himself before all who are under him as the pattern of the philosophic life. Such were the victorious contenders whom the divine Eusebius, trainer and coach in these contests, presented to God. He made many others like them and sent them out as teachers to other training grounds. They filled that whole holy mountain with divine meadows and sweet-smelling flowers. To the east of the ascetic hut first built there, and to the west and south, you can see the offspring of this philosophy, like stars dancing around the moon. Some sing the praises of the Maker in Greek, others in the language of the country. But I am attempting the impossible when I try to go through everything that soul accomplished. So I must put an end to this account and turn to another, and from there gain fresh benefit, begging to share in the blessing of these great men.

Chapter 5

5a At the same time there lived a man named Publius. He was striking to look at, and his soul matched his appearance; or rather he showed a soul far more admirable than his body. He came from the class of town councillors, and his city was the one where the famous Xerxes, marching against Greece and eager to take his army across the river Euphrates, gathered a multitude of ships, joined them to one another, and so bridged the river. He named the place Zeugma, “the joining,” and gave the city its name from the deed. Starting out from there, and sprung from such a family, Publius took possession of a high place not more than thirty stades from the town. There he built a small cottage and sold everything he had received from his father: house, lands, livestock, clothing, vessels of silver and bronze, and whatever else there was besides. He distributed the money, according to the divine law, to those who needed it. Having freed himself from every earthly care, he took up in place of them all one single care: the service of the One who had called him. He turned it over in his soul and guarded it, planning night and day how to increase it. For this reason his labor kept growing continually and became more intense every day. Yet it was sweet and full of pleasure, and it drove weariness far away. No one ever saw him take even a small part of a day for rest. Prayer followed psalmody, and psalmody followed prayer, and the reading of the divine words followed both. Then came the care of strangers who arrived, and after that some other necessary work. Walking his life in this way, and set before those who wished to imitate him as a pattern of virtue, like a sweet-voiced bird he roused many of his countrymen to these nets that bring salvation.

5b At first Publius would not allow anyone to live with him. He built small huts close to one another and told each man who came to live by himself. He visited them often and searched the huts, in case anyone was keeping anything beyond what he needed. They say he even carried a pair of scales with him and checked the weight of the loaves exactly. If he ever found more than the set amount, he was displeased, and he called those who did it gluttons. For he commanded that, whether eating or drinking, they should not wait until they were stuffed, but should take only as much as was enough to keep the body alive. And if he ever saw flour sifted free of its bran, he rebuked the men who had done it, as though they were enjoying Sybarite luxury. He would also come suddenly at night to each man’s door. If he found someone awake and singing hymns to God, he went away again in silence. But if he saw that someone was held fast by sleep, he beat on the door with his hand and struck the man lying inside with his tongue, for giving the body more care than it should have. Some of his like-minded companions saw this labor of his and suggested building one dwelling for them all. They said that those now scattered would live more strictly, and that he himself would be freed from much of his anxiety. The wise man accepted the advice. He gathered everyone together, pulled down those small huts, and built one house for those who had assembled. He begged them to live as a community and to sharpen one another. One should imitate another’s gentleness, and that other should mix his gentleness with the first man’s zeal. Another, who shared his wakefulness, should learn from someone else the lesson of fasting. “For in this way,” he said, “by taking from one another what each lacks, we will reach the most perfect virtue. In the public markets of a city, one man sells bread, another vegetables, another is a dealer in clothing, another a maker of shoes. By drawing on one another for what they need, they live more happily. The man who gives a coat gets a shoe in return, and the man who buys vegetables pays in bread. In the same way it is right for us to give one another in exchange the precious parts of virtue.”

5c So the Greek speakers trained and struggled in this way, singing hymns to God in the Greek language. Then a love for this way of life seized those who used the native language as well. Some of them ran together and begged to become part of the flock and to share in his holy teaching. He accepted their request. He remembered the Lord’s commandment, which he gave to the holy apostles when he said, “Go and make disciples of all nations.” Next to that house he built another and told these men to live there. He also built a sacred church and ordered both groups to gather in it at the beginning and the end of the day. In this way they would offer the evening and morning hymns to God together. They were divided into two groups, each using its own language, and they sent up the song in turn. This form of life has lasted to this very day. Time, which loves to change such things, has not altered it, and those who took over his care were not persuaded to overturn any of the rules he laid down. And this is true though not two or three, but more men have succeeded to this leadership. As soon as he had finished his contest and left this life, passing over to that life without grief, Theoteknos took over the leadership of the Greek speakers and Aphthonios that of the Syrian speakers. Both became living pillars and images of his virtue. They allowed neither those who lived there nor those who came from outside to feel any sense of his death, showing themselves to be exact copies of his way of life. The divine Theoteknos did not live long afterward and handed the leadership to Theodotos. Aphthonios remained for a very long time, caring for the flock and guiding it according to the established rules. This Theodotos came from Armenia.

5d When Theodotus came from Armenia and saw that company of ascetics, he first took his place among the subjects, obeying the great Theoteknos as their governor. But as I said, Theoteknos departed this life and Theodotus took over the leadership. He then flourished in so many good qualities that he almost eclipsed his predecessors in reputation. For divine longing so shaped him, and wounded him with so many arrows of such a kind, that night and day he poured out tears of compunction. He was so full of spiritual grace that when he prayed, everyone present fell silent and listened only to those holy words, counting the hearing of them as earnest prayer in itself. For who was so hard as adamant that, when those words were offered, his soul would not be charmed, its hardness and stubbornness softened, and itself turned toward the service of God? So he increased his wealth every day and filled his treasures, which no one could plunder, with such goods. After he had shepherded the flock for twenty-five years, he was gathered to his fathers, as the divine Scripture puts it, nourished in a good old age. He handed the reins to Theoteknos, who was his nephew by birth and his brother in character. The divine Aphthonius, for his part, led the company for more than forty years and then received the presidency of the high priesthood. He did not change his ascetic goatskin cloak or the tunic made of goats’ hair, and he ate the same food he had eaten before he held the office. Even after taking on this charge, he cared for that flock no less than before. He spent most of his days there. Sometimes he settled the quarrels of those who were fighting. Sometimes he took care of those who were suffering from any cause. At other times he gave the brothers divine exhortation. And he did all this sitting among them, mending the rags of his fellow monks, or cleaning lentils, or washing wheat, or handling some other such task.

5e So he adorned the presidency, increased his virtue, and reached the divine harbor with its cargo. And why need I speak of Theoteknos and of Gregory, who came after him? Theoteknos in his youth embraced every form of philosophy, and went abroad with the fame of his ancestors. Gregory is still alive today, and in deep old age labors with his body as if he were in his prime. For he has continued to refuse entirely the fruit of the vine. He takes not even vinegar or raisins, nor milk, whether freshly drawn or curdled. For the great Publius laid down this way of life by law. They allow oil only around the season of Pentecost, as they learn the need for it, and then they renounce it again. This is what I have learned about the great Publius. Some I received by hearsay. Some I learned from seeing his pupils and their teacher, and from the athletes I came to know the trainer. I judged it unjust and grudging to betray so great a benefit by silence, so I have added this account for those who do not know it. I do this to secure the benefit for them from it, and to gain for myself the profit of remembering. For I have heard the Master say: “Everyone who confesses me before men, I too will confess him before my Father who is in the heavens.” And I know clearly that by bringing the memory of these men to other people, I shall enjoy their memory of me before the God of all.

Chapter 6

6a If anyone deliberately passed over Symeon the Elder and consigned the memory of his philosophy to oblivion, he could not rightly escape a charge of injustice and ill will. He would be unwilling to praise what deserves praise, and he would hold up nothing lovely for imitation to those who wish to be helped. I will not tell the story out of fear of such an accusation, but out of love for speaking well of him. I will give the account of his way of life. For a very long time this man embraced the life of the desert. He lived in a small cave and enjoyed no human comfort at all. He had chosen to live alone, and he spoke continually with the God of all. He made the edible plants of the field his food. This labor won him a rich grace from above, so that he could give orders even to the strongest and boldest wild beasts. This became plain not only to the godly but even to unbelieving Jews. For some of them were traveling on business to one of the forts lying outside our inhabited world. A violent downpour came, and a squall struck them. They lost the road, since they could not see ahead, and wandered through the desert. They found no village, no cave, no traveler. Tossed about in the middle of the mainland like sailors at sea, they came upon the cave of the divine Symeon as though it were a harbor. There they saw a man dry and unwashed, with a scrap of a goatskin cloak on his shoulders. As soon as he saw them he greeted them, for he was a friendly man, and he asked why they had come. They told him what had happened and begged to learn the road that led to the fort. “Stay,” he said, “and I will at once give you guides to show you the road you want.” They obeyed and rested. While they sat there, two lions arrived. They did not look fierce, but fawned like servants before a master, showing their submission. With a nod he told them to guide the men, and to lead them back to the road they had left and lost when they went astray. But let no one think the story a fable, since I have as witnesses the common enemies of the truth, who testify for the truth.

6b For the very men who received the kindness never stopped singing of it. The great Jacob also told me this, saying that he was present when they described the miracle to the holy Aaron. So whoever disbelieves Jews who bear witness to the miracle-working of Christians, how could he not rightly be called more unbelieving than the Jews? For they, though hostile, are still overcome and yield to the rays of the truth. But those who are thought to be friendly, and to share the faith, do not even believe their enemies when these testify to the power of grace. That holy man became famous through such miracles and drew many of the neighboring barbarians to himself. (The people who live in that desert are those who take pride in Ishmael as their ancestor.) But since he loved quiet, he was forced to leave the cave. After a long journey he came to the mountain called Amanus. It had long been full of the madness of many gods. By his many and varied wonders he cultivated it like a field, and he planted the reverence for God that now flourishes there. To tell all of it would be very laborious, and perhaps impossible for me. So I will mention one case and set it out as a sort of imprint of his apostolic and prophetic wonder-working, and I leave it to readers to infer from it the strength of the grace he received. It was summer, harvest time, and the sheaves were being carried to the threshing floors. A certain man, not content with honest labor but longing for what belonged to others, stole some of his neighbor’s sheaves and tried to enlarge his own stack with them. At once the divine verdict against the theft was delivered. A fiery blast came, and the threshing floor was set on fire. The wretched man went to the man of God, who was staying not far from the village. He told of the disaster, but tried to hide the theft. When he was ordered to tell the truth, he confessed the theft, for his suffering forced him to accuse himself. The holy man ordered him to undo the punishment by undoing the wrong. “For when you restore those sheaves,” he said, “that fire sent from God will be put out.” So you could see the man running and bringing the stolen ears of grain to the one he had wronged, and the blaze going out without water, through the prayer and intercession of the holy elder.

6c This event filled the people living nearby with fear, and the whole city of Antioch too, since the village came under that city. It forced people to hurry there. One reported release from a demon’s raving, another an end to fever, another a cure for some other trouble. And Symeon freely poured out the streams of the grace that lived in him. But he again longed for quiet, and wanted to make his way to Mount Sinai. Many of the best men heard of it, men who followed the same way of life, and they ran together, eager to share the journey with him. After a journey of many days they came to the desert of Sodom. From far off they saw a man’s hands stretched up toward the sky out of a hollow. At first they thought it was a demon’s deception. But they prayed more earnestly and saw the same thing again, so they hurried to the place. They saw a small hole in the ground, like the burrows foxes make for themselves, but they saw no one appear there. For the man who had been holding out his hands heard the sound of their feet and hid himself inside the hole. The old man leaned in and begged him earnestly to show himself, if he was of human nature and not some deceiving demon putting on such appearances. “For we also,” he said, “follow the ascetic life and love quiet, and we are wandering through this desert. We want to worship the God of all on Mount Sinai, where he made himself known to his servant Moses and gave him the tablets of the law. We do not suppose that the Divine is confined to a place. We hear him say, ‘I fill heaven and earth, says the Lord,’ and that he holds the circle of the earth, and that its inhabitants are like locusts. But for people who love ardently, it is not only the beloved who are longed for; the places that received their presence and their company are dear as well.” While the old man was saying these things and others like them, the hidden man brought himself out of the hole. He was wild to look at. His hair was matted, his face wrinkled, and all the limbs of his body withered. He wore some wretched rags sewn together from palm shoots.

6d He greeted them and gave them the greeting of peace. Then he asked who they were, where they had come from, and where they were going. They answered his questions, and in turn asked where he had come from and why on earth he had chosen this life. He said, “I had the same eagerness you have as you travel. I had made a companion for this journey, a friend of like mind who held the same purpose as I did. We had bound each other by an oath that not even death would end our fellowship. So on the journey he happened to reach the end of his life here. Bound by the oath, I dug as well as I could and committed his body to burial. Beside that body I dug another grave for myself, and here I wait for the end of my life and offer the Master the service I am used to offering. My food is the dates which a brother, appointed by the one who looks after me, brings to me.” While he was saying this, a lion appeared in the distance. The men with the old man were seized with terror. But the man sitting at the mouth of the hole noticed it, got up, and signaled to the lion to cross to the other side. The lion obeyed at once and came, carrying a cluster of dates. Then, having been told to, it went away again, lay down far from the men, and slept. So the hermit shared the dates among them all. He joined them in prayer and psalm-singing, and when the service was over, at dawn, he embraced them and sent them off, amazed at the strange sight. If anyone does not believe what has been said, let him remember the way of life of the great Elijah and the service of the ravens, who brought him bread in the morning and meat in the evening. It is easy for the Maker of all things to find every kind of provision for the care of his own. So he kept Jonah safe in the belly of the whale for three days and nights. He made the lions stand astonished before Daniel in the pit. And he made lifeless fire act as if it had reason, lighting those inside and burning those outside. But I am doing something unnecessary by offering proofs of the divine power.

6e When the old man reached the mountain he longed for, they say that this marvelous elder knelt in the very place where Moses was counted worthy to see God, as far as a mortal nature can see him. He did not get up until he heard a divine voice declaring the Master’s favor toward him. He stayed bent over like this for the whole circuit of a week, without tasting even a morsel of food. Then the voice that had spoken told him to take what had been set before him and to eat it eagerly. He stretched out his hand and found three apples. He ate his fill, as the giver had commanded, and became full of strength. Then he warmly greeted his companions, as was natural. He went back rejoicing and glad, having heard a divine voice and having enjoyed food given by God. After he returned, he built two monasteries of philosophy. One was on the ridge of the mountain I mentioned earlier, and the other was at the very edge of its foothills. In each he gathered athletes of virtue, and for both groups he was trainer and coach. He taught them the assaults of the adversary and enemy, promised them the goodwill of the one who presides over the contest, urged them to take courage, and filled them with high resolve. He told them to be modest toward their own kind, but to show great-souled boldness against the enemy. Teaching such things, living such a life, working such wonders, and sending out all kinds of shining signs, he came to the end of his laborious life. He departed to the life that does not age and knows no grief, leaving behind unquenchable fame and a memory that will last forever. My blessed and thrice-blessed mother enjoyed his blessing while he was alive, and she often told me many stories about him. As for me, I beg to enjoy his power and intercession now, and I know that I will obtain it. For he will surely grant the request, imitating the loving-kindness of the Master.

Chapter 7

7a Palladius, the much-talked-of, lived at the same time as this man, followed the same way of life, and was his friend and acquaintance. They used to visit one another, so they say, and each benefited from the other, sharpening one another and rousing each other to divine zeal. Palladius was shut up in a small [cell] near a very large and populous village, whose name is Imma. About the man’s endurance, his fasting, his sleeplessness and his unceasing prayer, I think it needless to tell, for in these he pulled the same yoke as the divine Symeon. But I thought it right to tell the miracle that is still sung about to this day, which came about through his voice and his hand. A festival gathering was being held in the village I mentioned, drawing merchants from every side and a crowd too large to count. At this gathering a certain merchant sold what he had brought, collected his gold, and wanted to leave by night. A murderer saw the gold he had gathered. Filled with frenzy and madness, he drove sleep from his eyes and watched for the man’s departure. After the crowing of the cocks, the merchant set out confidently. The murderer went ahead, took a place suited for an ambush, leapt out suddenly, struck the blow, and dared the bloody deed. To this crime he added another act of impiety. He took the gold and threw the dead body down at the door of the great Palladius. When day came, the rumor spread, and the whole festival crowd was talking about what had happened. Everyone ran together, broke down the door, and demanded satisfaction for the murder from the divine Palladius. One of those doing this was the very man who had committed the murder himself.

7b So the holy man stood hemmed in by that great crowd. He looked up to heaven, and in his mind went beyond heaven, and begged the Master to expose the lie of the false accusation and bring the hidden truth to light. When he had prayed in this way, he took the right hand of the dead man and said, “Tell me, young man, who struck you this blow? Point out the author of this crime, and show that an innocent man is free of this wicked slander.” The word was followed by the deed. The dead man followed his hand, sat up, looked around at those present, and pointed with his finger at the murderer. A shout went up from everyone, astonished at the miracle and stunned at the slander that had been brought. They stripped that murderer and found the knife still stained with blood, and the gold that had caused the killing. Divine Palladius had long been worthy of admiration, and he now naturally became more so. The miracle was enough to show the man’s boldness of speech before God. The wonderful Abraames belonged to the same company. He lived in the place called Paratomos, and sent the radiance of his virtue out in every direction. The miracles worked after his death bear witness to the brightness of his life. To this day his tomb pours out cures of every kind, and those who draw them from it in abundance through faith are witnesses. May I too obtain the help of these men, since I have consecrated my tongue by remembering them.

Chapter 8

8a That human nature is one and the same in all people, and that philosophy is easy for those who want it, whether they are Greeks or barbarians, can be learned easily from many other examples. But Aphraates alone is enough to show it plainly. He was born and raised among the Persians, the most lawless of peoples, sprang from such parents, and was trained in their customs. Yet he reached such virtue that he put in the shade even those who were born of godly parents and received a godly upbringing from childhood. First he despised his noble birth, which was famous and splendid, and ran to the worship of the Master, imitating his ancestors the Magi. Then, loathing the impiety of his countrymen, he chose a foreign land over his own. He came to Edessa, a very large and populous city, outstanding for its godliness. Outside its walls he found a small house, shut himself in, and looked after his own soul. Like an excellent farmer, he cut out the thorns of the passions by the roots, cleared the divine field, and offered to the Master ripe fruit from the seeds of the Gospel. From there he came to Antioch, which was cruelly tossed about in the storm of heresy. He settled before the city in a monastery of philosophy. He learned a few little words of the Greek language, and drew as many as he could to hear the divine oracles. Using a half-barbarian tongue, he brought out the birth-pangs of his mind, receiving such streams from the grace of the divine Spirit. For which of those who swell with pride in their eloquence, who knit their brows, speak haughtily, and play the young champion among the traps of syllogisms, ever got the better of that uneducated, barbarian voice? He defeated the arguments of the philosophers, reasoning with reasoning and divine oracles with divine oracles, crying out with the great Paul, “Though I am unskilled in speech, I am not so in knowledge.” And he kept on in this way throughout, according to the apostolic word: “casting down reasonings and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, and taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.” And you could see people running together to him: those in office and high rank, those serving in the army, and those who lived by working with their hands.

8b He saw people of every kind running to him: ordinary men and soldiers, the educated and those with no schooling, men who lived in poverty and men who prided themselves on their wealth. Some received what was said to them in silence. Others asked questions and inquired, and so gave him openings for his teaching. Though he had taken on so great a labor, he never would put up with a housemate. He preferred to do things himself rather than be served by others. He held his meetings beside the outer door, and he himself opened it to those who came and saw them off when they left. He never accepted anything from anyone, not bread, not food to go with it, not a garment. Only one of his acquaintances supplied him with bread. When he reached deep old age, he also ate some vegetables after sunset. They say that Anthemius, who later became prefect and consul, was appointed an envoy and set out on a journey to Persia. He brought Aphraates a tunic woven among the Persians and said, “Father, I know that everyone finds his own homeland sweet, and the fruits that grow there most pleasant. So I have brought you this tunic from your homeland. I beg you to take it, and I ask in return to receive your blessing.” Aphraates first ordered him to put it down on the stool. Then, after some other conversation, he said he was troubled, because his mind was divided in two. When Anthemius asked the reason, he said, “I chose always to have one housemate, and I made it a rule for myself absolutely to refuse the sharing of the house by two. Now someone has lived with me for sixteen years, and he has been agreeable to me. Recently a man of my own tribe has come, who wants to live with me and asks for this. That divides my mind. I will not bear to have two at the same time. I welcome the tribesman as a tribesman. But to throw out the first one, who has become dear to me, I think would be painful and unjust.” Anthemius said, “That is reasonable, Father. It would not be right to send away, as unfit, the one who has served you for so long, and to take in another who has not yet given proof of his own character, simply because of his homeland.” At this the divine Aphraates said, “Then, my good man, I will not take this tunic. I will not bear to have two. And by my judgment it is more pleasant, and by yours it is better, to keep the one who has served me for so long.”

8c Having outwitted Anthemius in this way, and having given him cause to marvel at his sharpness, Aphraates persuaded him never to bring up that tunic again. I have told this story to show two things at once: that he accepted the care his body needed from only one person, and that he was so full of wisdom that he made the man who begged him to accept it vote not to accept it. But I will leave such things and tell of greater ones. When the God-hating Julian paid the penalty for his impiety in the barbarian land, those raised in the true faith enjoyed a short calm, as Jovian took the helm of the Roman empire. But he too reigned only a very short time and reached the end of his life, and Valens took the rule of the East. Storms and gales stirred up our sea again, a harsh swell rose, and waves from every side struck the ship. The lack of helmsmen made the storm still worse, for the emperor, bold against true religion alone, forced them to live abroad in exile. Even after such lawlessness, he was not satisfied with his impiety. He scattered the gatherings of all the godly, striving like a wild beast to tear the flock apart. For this reason he drove them out not only from every church, but also from the foot of the mountain, from the riverbank, and from the military exercise ground. They kept going from place to place through all these sites, treated as a side matter by the armed bands. Meanwhile the Scythians and the other barbarians were plundering all of Thrace without fear, from the Danube to the Propontis. Yet he could not, as the saying goes, bear even to hear of this with ears standing open. Against his own countrymen and subjects, who were distinguished for their piety, he used arms. The godly people, lamenting that untimely evil, sang that song of David: “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and wept, when we remembered Zion.” But the rest of the song no longer suited them. For Aphraates, Flavian and Diodore did not let the instruments of teaching be hung on the willows, and the people could not bring themselves to say, “How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?”

8d No, they sang the Lord’s song everywhere: on the mountains and in the plains, in the city and in the suburbs, in houses and in the marketplaces. For they had learned from David that “the earth is the Lord’s, and its fullness, the world and all who live in it.” They heard the same prophet say again, “Bless the Lord, all his works, in every place of his dominion.” They heard the inspired Paul urge “that the men pray in every place, lifting up holy hands without anger or disputing.” And the Master himself, speaking with the Samaritan woman, said the same thing more plainly: “Truly I tell you, woman, an hour is coming, and is now here, when neither in this place nor in Jerusalem, but in every place, they will worship the Father.” Taught by these words, they kept on testifying in house and marketplace, and, to speak as the apostle does, “publicly and from house to house.” They were like excellent generals, arming their own men and striking down their opponents. Now Flavian the Great and the divine Diodorus were at that time shepherding under the chief shepherd and had been given the second seat. That they did the things I have described is wonderful and deserves praise. Yet they did these things as generals appointed to command, and subject to the laws of command. The most wise Aphraates, by contrast, leapt into this struggle of his own free will. He had been brought up in quiet and had chosen to live by himself, sitting, as the saying goes, out of range of the missiles. But when he saw how fierce the war was, he did not love his own safety. He bade the quiet a farewell for the time being and became a champion in the front rank of the devout. He struck the enemy by his way of life, by his words and by his miracles, and was never struck himself. On one occasion the thoroughly foolish emperor saw him going out to the military exercise ground. (For it happened that the worshipers of the Trinity were then gathering there. Someone pointed Aphraates out to the emperor, who was peering out from the palace, as he walked along the riverbank.) The emperor asked where he was hurrying. Aphraates said he was going to offer prayers for the world and for the empire.

8e The emperor answered again: “Then why, when you profess the solitary life, do you walk about the marketplace without fear and leave your quiet behind?” Aphraates, who was in the habit of reasoning in parables, imitating the Master, said: “Tell me, O emperor, if I were a maiden hidden away in some inner room, and I saw someone throwing fire onto my father’s house, what would you advise me to do as I watched the flames catch hold and saw the house burning? To sit inside and ignore the house going up in fire? In that case I too would have been consumed by the blaze. But if you say that I ought to run, bring water, dash up and down and put out the flames, then do not blame me, O emperor, for doing exactly that. For what you would have advised the maiden in her chamber, I am compelled to do, though I have professed the solitary life. And if you blame me for leaving my quiet, blame yourself, who threw this fire into the house of God, and not me, who am forced to put it out. You yourself have admitted that it is right to defend a father’s house when it is on fire. And that God is a more true father than any fathers on earth is plain to everyone, even to one completely uninitiated in divine things. So we are doing nothing beside the point, nor anything contrary to our original purpose, O emperor, when we gather the nurslings of true religion, shepherd them, and set before them the divine pasture.” When he had said this, the emperor reasoned it through and approved the justice of his defense. But one of those who are neither men nor women, who have been deprived of the ability ever to become fathers, and who for that reason are thought to be loyal to the emperor and take their title from it, spoke from above and abused the man of God, and even threatened him with death. He did not wait long to pay the penalty for his boldness. The emperor wanted to refresh his body in the bath. The wretched man went ahead to see whether the tub was properly mixed. But his wits were stricken, and he jumped into the basin that received the unmixed hot water. No one was inside with him (he had gone in alone to see whether all was ready), and he stayed there, boiled and dissolved.

8f Some time passed. Then the emperor sent in another man to call him, but this one found no one in any of the rooms and reported back to the emperor. After that, several men ran in and searched all the bathing tubs. At last they came to that one and saw him thrown down in it, robbed of his life. There was uproar, and everyone lamented. Some drained off the scalding water, and others carried out the thrice-wretched body. Fear then fell on the emperor and on all who were arming themselves against true religion. A report rang through the whole city: that wretched man had paid the penalty for his insolence against Aphraates, and everyone went on praising Aphraates’ God. This prevented the man of God from being banished, though his enemies were pressing for it. For the emperor, thoroughly frightened, turned away from those who urged this and held the man in respect. He learned of the man’s virtue from another source as well. A horse of fine breed, well trained to carry its rider, was very dear to the emperor. A sickness came upon it that distressed the emperor greatly: the horse could not pass its liquid waste. The men trained in this art were called in to treat it. When their treatment failed, the emperor was grieved, and the man entrusted with the care of the horses wept aloud. This man was devout and strong in faith. At midday he took the horse to the lodging of the great Aphraates, told him of the illness, made known his faith, and begged him to pray and release the horse from the disease. Aphraates did not delay. He at once besought God, ordered water to be drawn from the well, set the sign of the saving cross on it, and told the man to give it to the horse. The horse drank it, which it had not been doing. Then Aphraates filled oil with the blessing of the divine invocation and rubbed it on the horse’s belly. At the touch of his hand the sickness was at once loosed, and immediately the discharge became natural. The man, overjoyed, took the horse and ran to the stables. Late in the evening (for that was the time when the emperor was accustomed to visit the stables) the emperor came and asked how the horse was.

8g The man answered that it was well and led the horse out. The emperor saw it strong, spirited, whinnying, and holding its neck proudly high, and he asked the reason for its recovery. The man put off answering many times, for he was afraid to point out the healer, knowing that the one asking was hostile to him. In the end he was forced to tell the truth and explained how the cure had been done. The emperor was astonished and admitted that the man was worthy of admiration. Even so, he was not freed from his former madness. He kept raging against the Only-begotten until he became the prey of a barbarian fire, and was not even thought worthy of burial, as servants or beggars are. But the divine Aphraates showed his own virtue in that storm too, and when calm came he went on doing the same things. He worked countless other wonders, of which I will mention one or two. A woman of noble family, who was dragging the yoke of marriage with a licentious husband, came to that blessed man, wailing over her misfortune. She said that her husband was devoted to a concubine and had been bewitched by some sorcerer’s spell, and that he hated her, though she was joined to him by the law of marriage. The woman said this standing in front of the outer door. For this was how he used to speak with women: he never admitted any woman inside the door. On that occasion he pitied the woman in her entreaty, and by prayer he dimmed the working of the sorcery. She had brought a small flask of oil, and he consecrated it with the divine invocation and told her to anoint herself with it. The woman carried out these instructions, and the love of her husband was turned toward herself. She persuaded him to choose his lawful bed over the unlawful one. They say also that once locusts suddenly descended on the land and, like fire, devoured everything: crops, plants, marshes, groves and meadows. A devout man came to him begging for help. He had a single field, from which he fed himself, his wife, his children and his household, and from which he also had to pay the royal tax. Again, imitating the Master’s kindness toward people, Aphraates ordered a measure of water to be brought to him. When the man who was asking for his prayer brought the measure, Aphraates laid his hand on it and begged God that the water be filled with divine power.

8h Then, when he had finished the prayer, he instructed the man to sprinkle the water around the boundaries of the field. The man who had carried it home did as he was told, and the water became an unbreakable, inviolable fence for those fields. Up to those boundaries the locusts crept and flew about like armies. Then they turned back again, afraid of the blessing laid upon the place, as if held in by a bridle and forbidden to go any further. Why should I tell everything that blessed soul accomplished? These examples are enough to show the radiance of the grace that lived in him. I myself was a witness of this, and I gathered the blessing of that holy right hand. I was still a boy, and I went with my mother on her journey to the man. As he usually did, he opened the door a little and gave her conversation and a blessing. But he took me inside and shared with me the riches of his prayer. May I enjoy that prayer even now. I believe he is alive, dancing with the angels, and speaking to God with greater boldness than before. For in those days that boldness was kept within the limits of his mortal body, so that greater boldness would not become an occasion for pride. But now he has laid down the burden of the passions, and like a victorious athlete he speaks freely to the one who presides over the contest. For this reason I beg to receive his intercession as well.

Chapter 9

9a We hear of Galatians in Europe, in the west. We also know of those in Asia, their descendants, who settled beside the Black Sea, the Pontus. From these the blessed Peter sprang, a man thrice blessed and many times over. They say that he was raised by his parents for seven years from his birth, and spent all the rest of his life in the contests of the philosophic life. He is said to have died after living ninety-nine years. Who could admire as he deserves a man who struggled for ninety-two years and traveled victoriously through every day and night? What tongue could be enough to tell the achievements he labored at as a youth and a child, as a mature man, as an elder and as an old man? Who could measure his sweat? Who could count the wrestling matches that took place in so long a time? What account could do justice to the seeds he sowed, or the sheaves he gathered? Who is so lofty in mind as to see accurately the wealth amassed from that fine trade? I know the sea of his achievements, and so I am afraid to approach the telling of his story, in case my account goes under the waves. Therefore I will walk along the shore. I will admire and describe what lies along the coast of the sea, and I will leave the depths to the one who, as divine Scripture says, searches the depths and knows hidden things. This man, then, first struggled in Galatia. From there he came to Palestine to see the places, so that when he had seen the places that received the saving sufferings, he might worship in them the God who saved him. He did not suppose God was confined to a place, for he knew that God’s nature cannot be circumscribed. He went so that he might feed his eyes on the sight of what he longed for, and so that the sight of his soul alone, without the sight of the eyes, would not be the only thing to enjoy the spiritual feast through faith. For people who are tenderly attached to someone are somehow made so that they take delight not only from seeing him, but also look with complete joy on his house, his clothes and his shoes.

9b With this same love for the Bridegroom, the bride in the Song of Songs cries out: “As an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the sons. In his shadow I longed to sit, and I sat down, and his fruit was sweet in my throat.” So it is not surprising that this divine man did the same. He had received the same love for the Bridegroom, and he used the bride’s words: “I am wounded with love.” He longed to see, as it were, some shadow of the Bridegroom, and so he sought out the places from which the springs of salvation had burst forth for all people. When he had enjoyed what he had longed for, he came down to Antioch. He saw how the city loved God, and he chose to be a stranger there rather than live in his homeland. He counted as his fellow citizens not those of his own race and family, but those of one mind with him, partners in the faith, who pulled the same yoke of godliness. He loved this way of life, but he did not pitch a tent, or build a hut, or put up a little house. He spent all his time in a tomb that belonged to someone else. He had an upper room there, with a kind of lattice screen set in front of it, and a ladder was fitted to it to receive those who wished to climb up. He stayed shut up in this place for a very long time. He drank cold water and ate only bread, and not even that every day: he would go one day without food and take these things on the next. Once a man came to him who was raving and out of his mind, full of the working of the evil demon. Peter prayed and cleansed him, and set him free from that devilish frenzy. The man did not want to leave. He begged to give his service in return for that healing, and Peter made him a housemate. I knew this man too. I remember the miracle, I saw the reward of the healing, and I heard the conversation that took place about me between them. For Daniel (that was his name) said, “I will share in this good service myself.” But that wonderful man would not agree that this should happen, since he took into account the affection of my parents for me.

9c Often he sat me on his knees and fed me grapes and bread. My mother had experienced his spiritual grace for herself, and so she told me to gather in that blessing once every week. She came to know him for this reason. A disease had struck one of her eyes, and it proved stronger than medical skill. There was nothing written down by the ancients, or discovered by later men, that was not tried on the sickness. When it had tested everything and shown that none of it did any good, one of her acquaintances came to tell her about the divine man and the miracle he had done. She said that the wife of the man who then held the helm of the East (he was from Pergamum) had fallen into this same affliction, and that he had healed her with prayer and the sign of the cross. My mother heard this and ran at once to the divine man. She was wearing jewels, necklaces and other gold ornaments, and a many-colored dress woven from silk threads. For she had not yet tasted the more perfect virtue; she was in the bloom of her years, and she put up with the adornment of youth. When that wonderful man saw such things, he first healed the sickness of her love of finery. He used words like these: “Tell me, child” (for I will use his own voice, and will not change the address of that holy tongue), “if a painter, well trained in his craft, painted a portrait as the rule of the art dictates, and set it out for those who wished to look at it; and then another man came who did not know that craft exactly, but improvised whatever he pleased; and then, finding fault with the skilled painting, he added longer lines to the eyebrows and eyelids, made the face whiter, and laid red color on the cheeks, would you not think the first painter justly angry, since his art had been insulted, and additions he did not need had been made by an ignorant hand?”

9d “Then,” he said, “you must also believe that the Maker of all, who formed and painted our nature, is angry, because you accuse that unspeakable wisdom of ignorance. You would not pour on red, white and black paint unless you thought you lacked these additions. By supposing that the body needs them, you pass a verdict of weakness on its Maker. You ought to know that his power matches his will. For, as David says, he did all that the Lord willed. He looks out for what is good for everyone, and he does not give what does harm. So do not spoil the image of God. Do not try to add what the wise Maker did not give. Do not invent this counterfeit beauty, which harms even modest women, because it lies in wait for those who look at it.” That most excellent woman heard this, and at once she was inside Peter’s net. Like his namesake, this man was a fisher too. She took hold of his feet, and with great earnestness begged that healing be given to her eye. He said that he was only a man and had the same nature as she did. He said he carried a great load of sins, and for that reason lacked boldness before God. But my mother wept and pleaded, and said she would not leave unless she got her cure. Then he said that God is the healer of such things, and always grants the requests of those who believe. “So he will give it now too,” he said. “He will not be giving the favor to me, but looking at your faith. So if you have a faith that is pure and sincere and free from all doubt, then say goodbye to doctors and drugs, and receive this medicine given by God.” When he had said this, he laid his hand on the eye and traced the sign of the saving cross, and he drove the disease away. She went back home and washed off the medicine. She threw away all her borrowed finery and lived by the rules laid down by her physician. She no longer wore embroidered clothing or decked herself with gold. And she did this though she was still quite young. She was in her twenty-third year and not yet a mother. She lived seven years more, and only then did she go through the pains of bearing me, which were her first and her only.

9e That is how much she gained from the teaching of the great Peter. She received a double cure. She came seeking healing for her body, and she gained health of soul besides. He was effective when he spoke such words, and powerful when he prayed. At another time she brought a household servant, a cook, who was troubled by an evil demon, and begged to get help from him. The man of God prayed, and then ordered the demon to tell by what right it held power over God’s creature. The demon was like a murderer or burglar standing before a judge’s bench and commanded to tell what he has done. Against its habit, fear forced it to tell the truth, and it told everything. It said that in Heliopolis the servant’s master had fallen ill, and the mistress was sitting beside her sick husband. The maidservants of the house, where it was staying, were telling of the life of the monks who practice philosophy in Antioch, and how much strength they have against demons. Then these girls, like young girls who love a game, were pretending to be possessed and mad. The servant himself put on a goatskin cloak and, in the manner of a monk, exorcised them. “While this was going on,” the demon said, “I was standing by the door. I could not stand the boastful talk about the monks, and I wanted to learn by experience what power they boast of having. So I left the girls and slipped into this man, because I wanted to learn how I would be driven out by monks. And now I have learned, and I need no further test. At your command I will go out at once.” As it said this, it fled, and the servant enjoyed his freedom. Another time there was a farm worker of my mother’s who was possessed. He was brought by [the woman who was my mother’s mother?], my nurse, and she begged the enemy of evil to help him. Again he asked the demon where it came from, and from whom it had received authority over God’s creature. But it stood silent and gave no answer. So he knelt down and prayed, and begged God to show that wretch the power of his own servants.

9f Peter got up again, and again the demon resisted and kept silent. This went on until the ninth hour. Then Peter offered the Master a more fervent and earnest prayer, stood up, and said to the wicked spirit, “It is not Peter who commands you, but Peter’s God. Answer, then, under the compulsion of his power.” The avenging spirit, shameless as he was, was shamed by the holy man’s gentleness. He cried out in a very loud voice that he had been living on Mount Amanus, “but when I saw this man on the road drawing water from a spring and drinking it, I wanted to make him my own dwelling.” “Then come out,” said the man of God, “for the One who was crucified for the whole world commands you this.” The demon heard and fled, and the farmer was given back to my nurse, free of his madness. I have countless other stories like these about that blessed soul, but I will pass over most of them, because I fear the weakness of the many. They look only at themselves, and so they disbelieve the miracles of godly men. I will tell one or two more and then move on to another contender. There was a licentious man who had been a general in earlier times. A young girl of marriageable age, who was under his authority, left her mother and her family and fled to a women’s house, a company of athletes. For women also contend just as men do, and go down into the arena of virtue. When the general learned of her flight, he flogged her mother and hung her up, and he did not release her from her bonds until she pointed out the refuge of the devout women. Then, giving rein to his own rage, he snatched the girl from there and brought her back to his own house. The wretch hoped to satisfy his lust. But the God who struck Pharaoh with great and grievous plagues over Sarah, Abraham’s wife, and kept that chaste woman untouched, and who struck the Sodomites with blindness when they tried to abuse the incorporeal beings as if they were strangers, struck this man’s eyes with blindness too, and let the prey escape from the middle of the nets. He himself went into the bedchamber, but she, who was being kept inside, went out at once and vanished, and reached the refuge she so longed for.

9g So the fool learned that he could not overpower a girl who had chosen the divine Bridegroom. He was forced to keep quiet, and he no longer sought the one he had caught and who had escaped by divine power. After some time she fell into a grievous illness. It was a cancer, and as her breast swelled, the pain grew with it. But at the height of the pain she would call on the great Peter. She said that as soon as that holy voice reached her ears, all the pain was lulled to sleep, and she felt no distress from it at all. For this reason she sent for him quite often and found comfort. She said that the whole time he was present the pains kept away completely. In the end, having struggled like this, she was sent from this life by him with praises of victory. Again, when my mother, after my birth pangs, had come to the very gates of death, he was begged by my nurse and came, and snatched her from the hands of death. She lay there, so they say, with the doctors having given up and her household wailing and awaiting the end. Her eyes were shut, a raging fever held her, and she recognized none of her familiar friends. Then he came, who had been given the title and the grace of an apostle, and said, “Peace to you, little child” (this was his usual greeting). At once, it is said, she opened her eyelids, looked steadily at him, and promised that the blessing would bear fruit. The company of women cried out aloud, for sorrow and joy were mixed together, and they raised that great shout. The man of God urged all of them to join him in prayer. He said that Tabitha too had obtained her salvation this way: the widows mourned, and the great Peter brought their tears to God. They pleaded as he commanded, and they received as he had foretold. When the prayer reached its end, the illness also reached its end. Sweat suddenly poured from her whole body, that fire was put out, and the signs of health appeared.

9h In our own times the Master still works such wonders through his own servants. Peter’s clothing, like that of the most divine Paul, was also effective. I do not say this by way of exaggeration; the truth itself agrees with me. He cut his own belt in two (it was broad and long, plaited from coarse linen). With one half he girded his own waist, and with the other half he girded mine. My mother often put this half on me when I was sick, and often on my father, and she drove the illness away. She herself also used this remedy to regain her health. Many of our acquaintances learned of this and constantly took the belt to help their sick, and everywhere it showed the working of his grace. In this way someone took it and deprived those who had given it, proving ungrateful to his benefactors. That is how we were stripped of that gift. So he shone, and lit up Antioch with his rays, and then passed beyond the contests, awaiting the crown laid up for the victors. As for me, I enjoyed his blessing while he lived, and I now beg to enjoy it still. With that prayer I will bring this account to its end.

Chapter 10

10a Rhosus is a city of Cilicia, on the right as you sail into the Cilician gulf. To the east and south of it there is a high mountain, spreading wide and shady, and it also feeds wild beasts in its thickets. In this mountain the great and much-celebrated Theodosius found a wooded glen sloping down toward the sea. He built a small hut there and, alone, embraced the way of life of the Gospel. He came from Antioch and was distinguished by the splendor of his family. Yet he left house, relatives and everything else, and bought, to speak in the language of the Gospel, the pearl of great price. There is no need to speak of his fasting, his sleeping on the ground, and his clothing of hair to those who see his followers and disciples and observe this way of life among them. Yet he practiced these things with exceptional zeal, since he set himself as an example to those who were being introduced to the life. He added to these an iron burden on his neck, his waist and both his hands. He wore his hair unkempt, reaching right down to his feet and even beyond, and for this reason he had it tied around his waist. He used prayer and hymn-singing continually, and so he lulled to sleep desire, anger, pride and the other wild beasts of the soul. Always adding labor to labor, he also did manual work. At one time he wove what are called fans and baskets; at another he made small fields in the glen, sowed seed, and gathered from there enough food. As time went on his fame spread in every direction, and many people came running from many places, eager to share with him his dwelling, his labors and his way of life. He received them and led them on into this life. You could see some weaving sails, others weaving ropes of hair, others plaiting the fans or the baskets, and others taking up farming.

10b Because the place lay by the sea, he later built a ferryboat and used it to carry goods. It took out the work of the brothers who lived with him and brought back what they needed. He remembered the apostle’s words: “working night and day so as not to burden any of you,” and “these hands served my needs and those of the men with me.” So he worked himself, and he urged his fellow monks to add the sweat of the body to the labors of the soul. For it would be wrong, he said, for people living in the world to toil and suffer to feed wives and children, and on top of that to pay taxes and tribute, to offer firstfruits to God, and to relieve the need of beggars as far as they can, while we do not earn what we need by our labor. And that, though our food is poor and scanty and our clothing is poor, too! It would be wrong for us to sit with our hands tucked away, living off other people’s hands. With these and similar words he urged them to work. He performed the divine services, as they are customarily kept everywhere, at their proper times, and gave the time between to work. He took special care of the hospitality given to strangers. He entrusted this duty to men adorned with gentleness and humility of mind, who had love for their neighbor. He himself oversaw everything and checked whether each task was carried out according to the established rules. He became so famous that sailors, even those more than a thousand stades away, called on “the God of Theodosius” in times of danger, and by the name of Theodosius they calmed the storm at sea. Even bold and savage enemies respected him, men who had plundered and enslaved most of the East. For who among those living in our part of the world has not heard of the evils that happened in that time at the hands of the people once called Solymi and now called Isaurians?

10c Even so, those raiders spared neither city nor village. They plundered every place they were able to capture and set it on fire. Yet they respected that philosophy of his. They asked only for bread and promised prayers, and they left that ascetic dwelling unharmed. They did this not once but twice. Still, the bishops of the churches feared that the devil might put a love of money into the barbarians and so cause that great light to be taken captive. It was likely that very large ransoms would be sent to them from everywhere by all who honor divine things. So they begged him and persuaded him to go to Antioch. They had already taken two bishops of the churches captive. They treated them with every kindness, but after receiving fourteen thousand gold pieces for the two, they allowed them to go back wherever they wished. When he came to Antioch, he settled in a dwelling beside the river. He drew to himself all who knew how to gather such fruit. I was carried along by the rush of my story and passed over a miracle that this holy man performed. To many it may seem unbelievable, yet it remains to this day as a witness to my account, and it shows what grace and boldness before God this marvelous man had received. A steep rock rises above the monastery that he himself had built, and it had previously been completely dry, without any moisture. In this rock he made a channel running from the summit down to the monastery, as though the flow of water were already in his hand. Full of confidence in God, and bold, as one might expect, because he had the Master favorable to him and an unwavering faith, he woke at night and went up to the top of the channel before his companions had risen for their usual prayers. He begged God in prayer, trusting in the one who does the will of those who fear him, and struck the rock with the staff on which he happened to be leaning. The rock split and water gushed out like a river. It flowed inside the monastery through the channel and supplied every need richly, and what was left over drained into the nearby sea.

10d To this day the grace of Moses at work in the great Theodosius can be seen. This one thing is enough to show the man’s boldness before God. He lived only a short time longer in Antioch, and then passed over to the company of angels. His holy body was carried through the middle of the city. It was adorned, as with golden crowns, by that iron he had worn. All the leaders walked in front, including those entrusted with the great offices. There was a struggle and a quarrel over the bier, since everyone was eager to carry it and to gain a blessing from it. So he was carried, and laid in the shrine of the holy martyrs. He had shared tent and roof with Julian, that victorious champion of godliness. The tomb that received him is the same one that received the divine and blessed Aphraates. The leadership of the flock passed to the admirable Helladius. He spent sixty years in those labors, and then by God’s gift received the bishopric of the Cilicians. He did not give up his earlier philosophy. Day after day he added the toils of the high priesthood to those labors. The blessed Romulus became his hearer and was appointed leader of a very large flock. His company, too, has continued to this day in the same way of life. A village lies beside the monastery, called Marathon in Syriac. With this I bring the account to its end, and I ask [to share] in the blessing that comes from it.

Chapter 11

11a Now the great Theodosius came from Antioch and struggled in the Rhosian mountains. He returned to the city of Antioch and so received the end of his life. The godly Romanus, however, was born and first raised in Rhosus, but took up the contests of virtue in Antioch. He pitched his tent outside the city walls, at the foot of the mountain, and spent all his time in a small house that belonged to someone else. He lived to old age without ever using fire or receiving the light of a lamp. His food was bread and salt, and his drink was spring water. His hair was like that of the great Theodosius, and so were his clothing and his iron. He excelled in simplicity of character, gentleness of manner, and humility of mind. For this reason the radiance of divine grace shone from him. “On whom shall I look,” it says, “but on the gentle, the quiet, the one who trembles at my words?” And the Lord said again to his own disciples: “Learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” And again: “Blessed are the gentle, for they will inherit the earth.” For Moses the lawgiver, too, this was the mark of his achievements. “Moses,” it says, “was the gentlest of all the people on the earth.” The all-holy Spirit bore the same witness to the prophet David: “Remember David,” it says, “and all his gentleness.” And we have learned about the patriarch Jacob that he was a plain man, living in a house.

11b Romanus gathered these virtues like a bee from those divine meadows, and made from them the honey of truth. But he did not enjoy the fruit of his labors alone. The sweetest streams flowed out also to those outside. To those who came to him he spoke in a gentle, sweet voice. He gave many exhortations about brotherly love, and many about harmony and peace. Many he made lovers of divine things merely by being seen. For who would not have been amazed to see an old man with a body worn out, choosing to carry as much iron as possible, dressed in a garment of hair, and taking only as much food as would prevent death from hunger? Besides the greatness and number of his labors, the grace that bloomed in him persuaded everyone to marvel at him and honor him. Often he drove away severe diseases from many people, and he gave children to many barren women. Though he had received so much power from the divine Spirit, he called himself a poor man and a beggar. So all who came to him he filled with benefit, by being seen and by speaking, through his whole life. When he left this world and was moved to the company of angels, he left a memory that was not buried with his body. It flourishes and is green, it never goes out, it remains forever, and it is enough to help any who wish. I too have gathered a blessing from it. Now I will tell, as well as I can, the stories of the other champions.