Religious History (Lives of the Syrian Monks) (chapters 12–21)

Religious History (Lives of the Syrian Monks)

continued

Chapter 12

12a Not many people know the wonderful Zeno, and those who do know him cannot admire him as he deserves. He left behind very great wealth in his homeland, which was Pontus. There, as he used to say, he had drunk from the streams of the great Basil, who lived nearby and watered Cappadocia, and he gave back fruits worthy of that watering. As soon as the emperor Valens was killed, he laid aside his soldier’s belt. He had been enrolled among those who carry the emperor’s dispatches at speed. Leaving the palace, he went off to a tomb (the mountain beside Antioch has many of them) and lived there alone. He was purifying his soul and washing the dirt from its power of sight. He pictured the divine vision to himself and set the ascents to God in his heart. He longed to take wings like a dove and desired to fly up to the divine rest. For this reason he had no bed, no lamp, no hearth, no cooking pot, no oil flask, no chest, no book, nothing else. He wore old rags, and his shoes were the same, in need of ties, since the leather had come apart from the stitching of the soles. He got the food he needed from one acquaintance only. It was a single loaf, supplied every two days. The water he drew from far off and carried himself. Once someone saw him struggling with the load and begged to lighten his labor. At first Zeno resisted, explaining that he could not bear to drink water that another had carried. When he could not persuade the man, he gave him the jars (he carried two, one in each hand). When the man got inside the door of the cell, Zeno poured out the water and sprinkled it about, then ran back to the spring, confirming his words by his deed.

12b When I first longed to see him and went up the mountain, I saw a man holding the jars in both hands. I asked where the dwelling of the wonderful Zeno was. He said he knew of no monk called by that name. I guessed that it was he and followed him, taking his modest manner as proof of my guess. When I got inside the door, I saw a bed made of hay, and some other rubbish spread over the stones, so that those who sat on it would suffer no harm from them. We held many conversations about the philosophy of the ascetic life. I asked questions, and he unfolded for us the things we sought. Then it was time to go home, and I begged him to give us the provisions of his blessing. He resisted, saying that it was lawful for us to fulfil the prayer, and calling himself a layman and us soldiers. For at that time I happened to be reading the sacred books aloud to the people of God. We pleaded our youth and the unripeness of our age (for we had only just begun to show a slight down on the cheek), and swore that we would never come again if we were forced to do this now. At last, late in the day, he gave way to our entreaties and offered the prayer to God. Then he made a long defense of having done it, saying that he had done it out of love and obedience, for we had heard him praying as we drew near. For an old man, who had by then completed forty years in the ascetic life, to have such humility of mind at such a height of philosophy, who could admire it as it deserves? What praise could one offer that matches its greatness?

12c He possessed such wealth of virtue that, though he lived in the utmost poverty, he went to the holy church with the crowd every Sunday. He lent his ears to the divine words and to the teachers, and shared in the mystic table, and then returned to that strange dwelling of his. He had no little key and left no guard behind. The place was closed to evildoers and entirely safe, since he had nothing in it but that litter of rubbish. He would borrow a single book from his acquaintances and read it right through, and only when he had returned it would he take another. Yet he had no bolts and used no bars, and he was guarded by grace from above. We learned this plainly from experience. When a band of Isaurians seized the high citadel by night, and after dawn ran down as far as the foot of the mountain, they cruelly speared many men and many women who were living the ascetic life. At that time this godly man watched the slaughter of the others, and by prayer he darkened the eyes of the raiders. They went past his door and did not see the entrance. He said, calling the truth to witness, that he also clearly saw three young men driving all that company away, showing them the way out. So much, then, is enough to show what kind of life this godly man led and what grace he enjoyed from God. But I must add one more thing. It grieved and stung him greatly that his property had remained, and had not been sold and distributed according to the law of the Gospel. The reason was the youth of his brothers. The lands and the money were held in common, and he did not want to go back to his homeland to divide them. Yet he was afraid to let another man sell his share of the estate, in case the buyers took advantage of his brothers in their greed and then heaped slanders on him.

12d He turned these thoughts over in his mind and put off the disposal for a long time. Later he sold everything to one of his acquaintances and gave away most of the money. Then an illness came on him and forced him to make a decision about what was left. So he sent for the bishop of the city. This was the great Alexander, the glory of godliness, the pattern of virtue, the exact image of true philosophy. Zeno said to him, “Come, my godly friend, and be the best steward of this money. Distribute it according to God’s purpose, as one who will give an account to that Judge. I handled the rest myself and gave it away as I thought best, and I meant to manage what is left in the same way. But since I am ordered to depart from this life, I appoint you steward of it, for you are a high priest and live in a way worthy of your high priesthood.” So he handed the money over to him as to a godly treasurer. He himself did not live much longer, but departed like an Olympic victor leaving the wrestling ground, having received praise not only from men but from angels. And I, begging him also to intercede with the Master on my behalf, will now turn to another account.

Chapter 13

13a Macedonius, nicknamed “the Barley-Eater” (the food he ate gave him that name), is known to everyone in Phoenicia, Syria and Cilicia, and also to their neighbors and the people living near them. Some saw the man’s miracles with their own eyes. Others heard rumor singing them out and repeating them. Not everyone knows everything, however. One person has learned this, another that, and each naturally admires only what he knows. But I know the story of this godly man better than most. Many things drew me to go to him and to marvel, and I will tell each as well as I can. I have placed his story after many others, not because he was second to the rest in virtue (he was equal to the highest and the first), but because he lived a very long time and reached the end of his life after those I have already mentioned. This man made the mountain peaks his wrestling-ground and racecourse. He was not settled in a single place, but lived now in one, now moved to another. He did this not because he found the places disagreeable, but to escape the crowds that gathered to him and came running from every side. For forty-five years he went on in this way. He used no tent and no hut, but made his stand in a deep pit dug in the ground. Because of this some called him Gouba. In the Syrian language, when turned into Greek, that name means “pit.” After this time, when he had become an old man, he gave way to those who begged him and put up a hut. Later, at the urging of his acquaintances, he also made use of small houses, not his own but other people’s. He lived twenty-five years in the hut and the small houses, so that the time of his struggles adds up to seventy years. His food was not bread or vegetables but hulled barley, soaked in water alone.

13b My mother, who had become a friend of his, supplied him with this food for a very long time. Once he came to her when she was ill. He learned that she would not take food suited to her sickness (she too had by then embraced the ascetic life). He urged her to yield to the doctors and to regard such food as medicine, for it is taken not for luxury but for need. “I too,” he said, “as you know, have lived forty years on barley alone. When I fell ill the day before yesterday, I told my companion to ask for a little bread and bring it. A thought had come to me: if I should die, I would have to answer for my death before the just Judge, as one who had run away from the struggles and fled the labors of his service like a runaway slave. It was possible to hold off death with a little food, and to stay on in this life, toiling and suffering, and so gather up the wealth that comes from it. I judged that death by starvation was to be preferred over a life of philosophy. So I was filled with fear, and wanting to blunt the sharp points of that thought, I told him to ask for the bread, and when it was brought I ate it. So now I urge you to give me bread from now on, and no longer barley.” So we heard from a lips that do not lie that for forty years he made barley his food. This is enough to prove the man’s self-discipline and love of labor. We will show the simplicity of his old-fashioned character by other things. When the great Flavian was appointed to shepherd God’s great flock, he learned of the man’s virtue (he was famous and on everyone’s lips). He brought him down from the mountaintop as though a written charge had been laid against him. When the mystical liturgy was set out, he led him to the altar and enrolled him among the priests. When the service was over and someone told him what had happened (he had known nothing at all of it), at first he railed at everyone and pelted them with words. Then he took his staff (in his old age he was used to walking leaning on it) and chased after the bishop himself and everyone else who was there.

13c He thought that ordination would rob him of his mountaintop and the way of life he longed for. That time, some of his friends barely managed to calm him down in his anger. But when the cycle of the week was completed and the Lord’s Day came again, the great Flavian sent for him once more, asking him to share in the festival with them. He said to those who came, “Is what has already been done not enough for you? Do you want to put me forward as a presbyter again?” They told him that the same ordination could not be laid on a man twice. He would not give way and did not go, until time and his friends taught him this by repeated explanation. I know that this story will not seem very admirable to many. But I have included it because I think it is worth remembering, as sufficient proof of his simplicity of mind and purity of soul. For to such people the Master promised the kingdom of heaven. “Truly I say to you,” he said, “unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” Now that I have shown the character of his soul in summary, let me also show the boldness of speech that came from his virtue. A military commander who loved hunting went up the mountain to hunt. Dogs followed him, and soldiers, and everything needed for the chase. When he saw the man from a distance and learned from his companions who he was, he leapt at once from his horse, approached, greeted him, and asked what he was doing there. Macedonius asked him in return, “And what have you come up here to do?” The commander said, “To hunt.” “I too,” he said, “am hunting my God. I long to catch him and I yearn to behold him, and I will not give up this noble hunt.” When the commander heard this, he was amazed, as one would expect, and went away. At another time the city was seized with frenzy by some evil demon, and in its madness it abused the imperial statues. The foremost of the generals came, bringing a sentence of total destruction against the city.

13d Macedonius came down from the mountain and stopped both generals as they were passing through the marketplace. When they learned who he was, they jumped down from their horses, clasped his hands and knees, and promised deliverance. He told them to say this to the emperor: “He is a man, and he has the same nature as those who have insulted him. He ought to measure his anger by that nature, but he has used a measureless fury. For the sake of his own images he hands over the divine images to slaughter, and in place of bronze statues he sends bodies to death. For us,” he said, “it is easy and simple to recast the bronze ones and give them shape again. But you, though you are emperor, cannot bring slaughtered bodies back to life. Why do I say bodies? You cannot even restore a single hair.” He said this in the Syrian language. The generals heard it as the interpreter put it into Greek, and they shuddered, and they promised to carry the message to the emperor. I think everyone would agree that these words came from the grace of the divine Spirit. How else could he have said them, a man untouched by any education, raised in the countryside, living on mountaintops, carrying all simplicity in his soul, and who had not even spent time on the divine oracles? So now that I have shown his spiritual wisdom, and the boldness of speech that suits a righteous man (“for the righteous man is confident as a lion”), I will turn to his miracles. The wife of a wealthy man fell into a disease of ravenous appetite. Some called it the work of a demon, others thought it a sickness of the body. Whichever it was, it went like this: they said she ate thirty birds a day and did not quench her craving, but still longed for more. As the household’s wealth was being used up on her, her relatives took pity and begged that divine man for help. He came and prayed. He laid his right hand on water, stamped on it the saving seal, and told her to drink. He cured the disease, and he blunted the excess of her appetite so greatly that from then on a small portion of a bird each day was enough to meet her need for food.

13e So that was the kind of cure this illness received. There was also a girl, still living in her bridal chamber, who was suddenly seized by the working of an evil demon. Her father ran to the holy man, pleading and begging that his little daughter might be healed. Macedonius prayed and ordered the demon to leave the girl at once. The demon said that he had not entered her willingly but had been forced by sorcery and magic spells. He even named the man who had forced him, and said that love was the reason for the sorcery. When the father heard this, he could not bear the surge of his anger, and he did not wait for his daughter’s cure. He went to the governor who ruled over the higher officials and presided over many nations, lodged a charge against the man, and told him the whole affair. The accused was brought in, denied it, and called the charge slander. The father called as his witness no one else but the very demon who had served the sorcery, and he begged the judge to run to that holy man and hear the demon’s testimony. The judge said it was neither lawful nor holy for an examination to be held in a place of ascetics. So the girl’s father promised to bring the holy Macedonius to the court, and he ran, persuaded him, and brought him. The judge sat outside the courthouse, and he became no judge but a spectator. For the great Macedonius took the judge’s seat, using the power that lived in him, and commanded the demon to drop his usual lying and to tell the whole tragedy of the affair truthfully. Driven by the greatest necessity, the demon pointed out the man who had forced him with his magical incantations, and the maidservant through whom that potion had been given to the girl. Then he hurried on to tell of other things that he had done under compulsion from other people: burning down one man’s house, destroying another man’s cattle, harming someone else in some other way. At that the man of God ordered him to be silent and to go at once far away from the girl and from the town.

13f The demon, as if obeying a law from the Master, did what he was told and fled immediately. In this way the holy man freed the girl from her madness. He also snatched that wretched man out of the charge and prevented the judge from passing a sentence of death. He said it was not right that slaughter should be imposed on those who had been exposed through him, but rather that safety should be granted to the man through repentance. These things are enough to show the abundance of the divine power given to him. But I will still tell of others. A woman of noble family and great wealth (they called her Astrion) lost her wits. She recognized none of her household and would not take any food or drink. She remained out of her mind for a very long time. Others called this the working of a demon, but the doctors called it a disease of the brain. All their skill was spent and no help came from it. So her husband, Aūodianos (he was a man of rank and office), ran to that holy head, described his wife’s affliction, and begged to obtain her cure. The wondrous man yielded. He went to the house and offered an earnest petition to God. When he had finished the prayer, he ordered water to be brought, traced on it the sign of salvation, and told her to drink. The doctors objected that cold drinking would make the disease worse, but the man pushed that whole company aside and gave the woman the drink. As soon as she drank, she came back to herself and her mind was sound. Fully rid of the illness, she recognized the holy man. She begged to take his right hand, laid it on her eyes, and put it to her mouth. For the rest of her life she kept a healthy mind. At the time when he was embracing the life of the mountains, a shepherd looking for stray sheep came to the place where the man of God was.

13g It was deep night and a heavy snow was falling. The shepherd said he saw a fire burning around the man, and two figures in white clothing feeding it with fuel. For Macedonius brought his own eagerness, and so he enjoyed help from God. He had also received the gift of prophecy. Once a general came to him, a man distinguished for his piety (who does not know the virtue of Lupicinus?). He said he was anxious about some men who were bringing him supplies by sea from the imperial city. Fifty days, he said, had passed since they sailed from the harbor, and he had received no word of them. Macedonius did not hesitate. “My friend,” he said, “one of the ships is lost. The other will reach the harbor of Seleucia tomorrow.” The general heard this from that holy tongue as it spoke, and he learned by experience that the words were true. But to pass over the other cases, I will tell what concerns myself. My mother lived with my father for thirteen years and did not become a mother. She was barren, held back by nature from bearing fruit. This did not distress her much, since she had been taught the things of God and believed that it was for the best. But my father was greatly grieved by the lack of children. He went about everywhere, begging God’s holy servants to ask God for children for him. The others promised to pray, and urged him to accept what God willed. But this holy man promised a direct petition, and he promised that my father would receive one son from the Creator of all. Three years went by and the promise had not been fulfilled, so my father ran to him again to demand what he had promised. Macedonius ordered that his wife be sent to him. When my mother came, the holy man told her that he would ask, and that she would receive the child, and that it was fitting to give back to the Giver. My mother begged only to receive the salvation of her soul and deliverance from Gehenna. “Besides this,” he said, “the bountiful Giver will also give you the son.”

13h “For to those who ask sincerely he grants their requests twice over.” My mother went home carrying the blessing of the promise. In the fourth year after the promise she conceived and was heavy with child, and she went to the holy man, showing him the sheaves from the seeds of his blessing. In the fifth month of the pregnancy a danger of miscarriage arose. She sent again to her new Elisha (for her illness kept her from going herself). She reminded him that she had not wanted to be a mother of children, and she brought his promises before him. When he saw the messenger coming from far off, he recognized him and knew the reason. For during the night the Master had shown him both the illness and its cure. So he took his staff and came leaning on it. He entered the house, gave the greeting of peace as he always did, and said, “Take courage and do not be afraid. The Giver will not take the gift away, unless you break the agreement that was made. You promised to give back what would be given, and to consecrate it to the service of God.” “Yes,” said my mother, “that is what I want and pray for as I bear it. I would rather have a child who never comes to birth than raise it for some other life.” “Then drink this water,” said the holy man, “and you will feel God’s help.” She drank as he commanded, and the danger of miscarriage fled. Such were the miracles of our Elisha. I often enjoyed his blessing and his teaching. He would often advise me, “My child, you were born with much labor. I spent many nights asking God only this, that your parents would become what they were called after your birth. So live in a way worthy of those labors. You were dedicated by promises before the birth pains. What is dedicated to God is holy to all and untouchable by the many. So it is fitting that you do not accept the base movements of the soul, but do, say and think only those things that please God, the lawgiver of virtue.”

13i This is the kind of advice the man of God always gave me. I remember his words, and I have been taught about the divine gift. But I do not show my obedience to that advice by my deeds. So I beg that, through his prayer, I may obtain help from God’s hand, and that I may live out the rest of my life according to his counsel. What sort of man he was, and by what labors he drew down the grace of God, these accounts are enough to show. Yet even in this life his death received a fitting honor for his labors. All of them, citizens and strangers alike, and those who had been entrusted with great offices, carried that holy bier on their shoulders. They took it to the shrine of the victorious martyrs, and beside those godly men, Aphraates and Theodosius, they laid his holy body, so dear to God. His fame remains unquenched, and no length of time will be able to blot it out. As for us, we bring this narrative to its end, and we have gathered the fragrance that comes from telling it.

Chapter 14

14a I know that many other lights of godliness shone around the city of Antioch: the great Severus, Peter the Egyptian, Eutychius, Cyrillus, Moses, Malchus, and very many others who walked the same road. But if we tried to write the life of all of them, all our time would not be enough. Besides, reading about too many wearies most people. So let everyone judge the lives of those I have left out from the ones I have written down. Let them praise those men, imitate them, and gather the benefit. As for me, I will cross over to the meadows of Cyrrhus, and of the sweet-smelling and beautiful flowers there I will point out the loveliness of a few, as far as I can. In the times before us there was a man named Maisymas. He was Syrian in speech, raised in the countryside, and he showed every kind of virtue. He shone in the life he lived, and the care of a certain village was entrusted to him. As he performed the sacred rites and shepherded God’s flock, he said and did what the divine law prescribed. They say he hardly ever changed his tunic or his goatskin cloak. When tears appeared in them he sewed other rags onto them, and in this way he looked after his old age. He cared for strangers and the poor so eagerly that he threw open his doors to every passer-by. He is said to have had two jars, one of grain and one of oil. From these he always supplied everyone in need, and yet he always kept them full, because the blessing given to the widow of Zarephath was extended to these jars as well.

14b For the same Lord of all is rich toward all who call upon him. As he commanded that jar and that cruse to keep flowing, supplying the sheaves from the seeds of hospitality, so to this wonderful man he gave a supply equal to his eagerness. He also received from the God of all great grace for working miracles. I will mention one or two miracles and pass over the rest, since I am in a hurry to come to the others. A woman, distinguished by both birth and faith, had a son who fell ill. He was very young, hardly more than a boy. She set him before many physicians. But their skill was defeated, and the physicians gave up. They told her plainly that the child would die. The woman did not throw away her better hopes. She imitated that Shunammite woman and set the covered carriage on her mules. She put herself and the child in it and went to find that godly man. Weeping, and showing him how nature’s weakness had struck her child, she begged him to help. He took the child in both hands, went up to the foot of the altar, and lay face down, pleading with the physician of souls and bodies. He received what he asked, and gave the son back to his mother in good health. I heard this from the woman herself, who saw the miracle and whose child received his healing. They also say that the owner of that village once came there. This was Letoius. He held the first place in the council of Antioch, but he was held in the darkness of ungodliness, and he was exacting the crops from the farmers more harshly than he should. The godly man urged him toward kindness, advised him, and went through arguments about mercy and compassion. Letoius stayed unmoved, but he learned by experience the harm of disobedience.

14c For when Leto’ios was about to leave, the carriage was ready. He sat down and ordered the driver to urge on the mules. They pulled with all their strength, straining to drag the pole, but the wheels seemed fastened down with iron and lead. The crowd of villagers also tried to move the wheels with levers, but it did no good. Then one of the more friendly men in his company explained the cause to Leto’ios. He said that the aged priest had laid a curse on him, and that he ought to win the man’s favor. So he leapt down from the carriage and begged the very man he had spat upon. He rolled at his feet and clung to his filthy rags, pleading with him to relax his anger. The old man accepted the plea and offered it to the Master. He loosed the invisible bonds on the wheels and made the carriage move again as usual. They tell many other such stories about that holy man. From these we can also learn that living in cities and villages does not at all harm those who choose the philosophic life. For he and those like him, who care for the service of God, showed that even people who live in the middle of a crowd can reach the very summit of the virtues. May I, helped by their prayers, climb a little way above the foot of that mountain.

Chapter 15

15a Akepsimas lived at the same time, and his fame spread widely through the whole East. He shut himself up in a small cell and spent sixty years there, neither seen nor speaking. He turned his attention inward and pictured God before him, and from this he received every comfort of the soul, according to the prophecy that says: “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will grant you the requests of your heart.” He would stretch out his hand through a small opening to take the food that was brought. The opening was not cut straight through, so that it would not lie open to those who wanted to look in, but was built slanting, with a winding turn. His food was brought to him: lentils soaked in water. Once a week he went out at night and drew enough water from a nearby spring. Once a shepherd tending his flocks some distance away saw something moving in the darkness. He supposed it was a wolf, for the man walked bent over, weighed down by a great deal of iron. He swung his sling to hurl a stone. But his hand stayed fixed and unmoving for a very long time and could not let the stone go, until that holy man had drawn his water and gone back. Then the shepherd realized his mistake. After dawn he went to that school of virtue, told what had happened, asked pardon, and received forgiveness for his offense. He did not hear a voice speak, but learned the man’s kindness from the movements of his hand. Another man, with malicious nosiness, wanted to find out what he was doing all that time, and dared to climb the plane tree planted beside the enclosure wall. But he immediately reaped the fruits of his boldness. Half of his body, from the top of his head to his feet, was ruined, and he became a suppliant, confessing his sin.

15b He announced beforehand that health would come through the cutting down of the plane tree. So that no one else would do the same and suffer the same, he ordered the tree cut down at once. When it was cut, the punishment was lifted. This was the endurance of this holy man, and this was the grace he received from the one who presides over the contest. When he was getting ready to depart this life, he declared in advance that he would reach the end of his life after fifty days. Meanwhile he received everyone who wished to see him. The head of the Church also came, and urged him to accept the yoke of the presbyterate. “Father,” he said, “I know the height of your philosophy and the depth of my own poverty. But I have been entrusted with the stewardship of the high priesthood, and by this, not by that, I put forward men for ordination. So accept the gift of the priesthood. My right hand will serve, and the grace of the all-holy Spirit will supply it.” To this he is said to have replied: “Since I shall depart from here in a few days, I will not quarrel about this. If I were going to live much longer, I would have run from this heavy and fearful burden of the priesthood, dreading the accounting required for such a trust. But since I shall soon leave everything here behind, I will obey what is commanded.” At once, with no one leading him, he bent his knees and waited for the grace. The bishop laid his hand on him and served the Spirit. He lived only a few days after becoming a priest. Then he exchanged one life for another, and received a life that does not age and has no grief in place of one full of cares. All the villages wanted to seize his body and carry it off to their own place. Then someone revealed the oaths the saint had made, and ended the quarrel.

15c For he said that the saint had made him swear to hand over his body for burial in that particular place. So the citizens of heaven cared about plainness even after death. While they lived they never allowed themselves to think highly of themselves, and when they died they did not draw to themselves any honor from men. They transferred all their love to the Bridegroom, like modest wives who want to be loved and praised only by their own husbands and despise the good reports of others. For this reason the Bridegroom made them famous even against their wishes, and gave them in abundance a good name among men as well. For whenever someone who pursues divine things asks for heavenly things, God adds many other things besides, giving many times over what was asked. This is exactly what he said when he gave his law: “Ask for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all the rest will be added to you.” And again: “The one who leaves father and mother and brothers and wife and children for my sake and the sake of my Gospel will receive a hundredfold in this age, and in the age to come will inherit eternal life.” He said this, and he has done it. May we, taught by this account and leaning on the prayers of these saints, run straight toward the goal, to the prize of the upward calling in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory forever. Amen.

Chapter 16

16a After these I will mention Maron, for he too adorned the holy company. He embraced a life in the open air and took possession of a hilltop that had been honored by the ungodly of old. He consecrated to God the shrine of the demons on it and spent his time there. He pitched a small tent, but rarely used it. He practiced not only the usual labors but devised others as well, gathering up the riches of philosophy. The one who presides over the contest added grace to his labors. For the generous Giver bestowed on him the gift of healing so richly that his fame ran everywhere, and people from every direction were drawn to him and learned by experience that the report was true. One could see fevers put out by the dew of his blessing, shivering fits stopped, demons fleeing, and every kind of varied illness healed by a single remedy. Physicians’ sons give each ailment its own fitting medicine, but the prayer of the saints is a common antidote for all afflictions. He healed not only bodily sicknesses but also gave the fitting treatment to souls. He cured one man’s greed and another’s anger. To one he brought teaching about self-control, to another he added lessons in righteousness. He trained one man out of his licentiousness and roused another from his sluggishness.

16b By working this field, Maron produced many plants of philosophy, and he himself planted for God the garden that now flourishes in the territory of Cyrrhus. The great Jacob was a product of his planting. One could rightly apply to him that prophetic saying: “The righteous will flourish like a palm tree; he will be multiplied like the cedar in Lebanon.” The same applies to all the others, each of whom I will mention separately, God willing. While he was tending this divine farm in this way, healing souls and bodies together, he endured a brief illness. This was so that we might learn both the weakness of our nature and the courage of his purpose. Then he departed this life. A fierce war broke out among his neighbors over his body. A populous village among the neighboring ones came out in a mass, scattered the others, and seized that thrice-longed-for treasure. They built a very large shrine and, to this day, enjoy the benefit that comes from it, honoring that victorious man with a public festival. We too, [by speaking of him], reap the blessing. For us the memory is enough in place of the tomb.

Chapter 17

17a It would not be right to pass over the memory of the admirable Abraham, on the pretext that after the solitary life he graced the episcopal chair. In fact he deserves to be remembered all the more for this reason: when he was forced to change his way of public life, he did not change his manner of living. He carried his ascetic hardship over into it, and ran the course of his life surrounded both by a monk’s labors and by a bishop’s cares. He too is a fruit of the territory of Cyrrhus. He was born and brought up there, and there he gathered the wealth of ascetic virtue. Those who lived with him say that he subdued his body with so much wakefulness, standing, and fasting that for a very long time he remained motionless, hardly able to walk. By divine providence he was freed from that weakness. He then wished to bring dangers upon himself for the sake of divine grace, and he went to Lebanon. He had learned that a certain very large village was held in the darkness of impiety. He hid the face of a monk behind the mask of a merchant. He took sacks along with his companions, as though he were going to buy nuts, for that was the fruit the village produced above all. He rented a house and paid the owners a little money in advance. For three or four days he kept quiet. Then, little by little, he began the divine service, using a moderate voice. When the villagers noticed the psalm-singing, the town crier shouted and called everyone together. Men and women gathered. They walled up the doors, and from above, from the roof, they piled on a great deal of earth and dropped it down on them. But when they saw the men being choked and buried, unwilling to do or say anything, and offering only prayer to God, some of the villagers made a different suggestion, and the rest stopped their frenzy. Then they opened the doors, dug away the heap of earth, and ordered the men to leave at once. But at that very time tax collectors arrived, forcing people to pay their levies. Some they bound; others they abused.

17b But that holy man remembered nothing of what had been done to him. He imitated the Master, who while nailed to the cross cared for those who had done it, and he begged the tax collectors to carry out the collection gently. When they demanded guarantors too, he accepted the demand willingly and promised to pay a hundred gold pieces in a few days. The men who had done those terrible things were full of admiration for his kindness. They asked pardon for what they had dared to do, and begged him to become their patron. For the village had no landlord; the villagers were both the farmers and the owners. So he went to the city, which was Emesa, found some acquaintances there, and took out a loan of the hundred gold pieces. Then he returned to the village and fulfilled his promise to the collectors in full. When they saw his earnestness, they pressed him with a more urgent appeal. He said he would do what they asked if they promised to build a church. They begged him to begin at once, and they led the blessed man around, showing him the more suitable sites. One praised this place, another that. He chose the better one, laid the foundations, and in a short time put the roof on. When the building was finished, he told them to receive a priest. But they said they would choose no one else, and begged him to take them as their father and shepherd. So he accepted the grace of the priesthood. He stayed with them three years and guided them well in divine things. Then he arranged for one of his companions to be put forward in his place, and went back to his monastic dwelling. I do not want to make my account long by telling everything about him. After he had shone in these things, he received the bishop’s chair of Carrhae. That city was wrapped in the drunkenness of impiety and had given itself over to the revelry of demons.

17c But the city was thought worthy of his farming and received the fire of his teaching. It stayed free of its former thorns, and now it flourishes with the crops of the Spirit and offers God sheaves of ripe ears of grain. The holy man did not do this divine farming without toil. He went through countless labors. He imitated the skill of those entrusted with healing bodies: some things he soothed with encouragement, others he treated with harsher astringent medicines, and in some cases he even cut and cauterized, and so he brought about health. His teaching and his other care were backed by the shining example of his life. Lit by that, people listened to what he said and gladly accepted what he did. For during all the time he was bishop, bread was superfluous to him, water was superfluous, a bed was useless, and the use of fire was superfluous. At night he completed forty sets of psalms sung in alternating choirs, and he doubled the measure of the prayers that came between them. For the rest of the night he sat on a chair, granting his eyelids only a brief rest. That man will not live on bread alone, Moses the lawgiver said, and the Master recalled this saying when he turned aside the devil’s invitation. But that it is possible to live without water, we have not learned anywhere in the divine Scripture. Even the great Elijah first supplied his need from the brook. Then, when he came to the widow of Sarepta, he first commanded that water be brought to him, and only then asked for bread. But this remarkable man, during his time as bishop, ate no bread, no pulses, and no vegetables that had been near fire. He took no water either, which people clever in such matters have judged the first of the four elements because of how much it is needed. He ate only lettuce, chicory, and celery.

17d He made these things his food and drink: lettuce, wild chicory, celery, and the like. He showed that the arts of the baker and the cook are unnecessary. In the season of fruit he supplied his need from that, and he took even these only after the evening service. He wore his body down with such labors, yet he gave tireless care to others. For guests who came, a bed of rushes was made ready, and bright, choice loaves were set before them, along with fragrant wine, fish, vegetables, and all that goes with these. At midday he sat beside those at table. He handed each one a portion of what was set out, passed the cups to everyone, and urged them to drink. In this he imitated his namesake, the patriarch I mean, who served his guests but did not eat with them. He spent whole days over the lawsuits of people quarreling. Some he persuaded to be reconciled with one another. Those who would not be persuaded, he compelled with gentle teaching to do what was right. No wrongdoer ever went away having beaten justice by his boldness. He always gave the wronged man his share of justice and so showed him unbeatable, stronger than the man who wanted to do wrong. He was like an excellent physician who always checks whichever humor is in excess and works by his remedies to restore the balance. The emperor longed to see him. Rumor has wings, and it easily carries every report, good and bad. So the emperor summoned him, and when he arrived, greeted him, and counted that rough peasant’s goatskin cloak of his more precious than the imperial purple. The company of the empresses too took hold of his hands and knees and begged him, a man who did not even understand the Greek language. So worthy of reverence is philosophy, to emperors and to all people. And when its lovers and devotees die, they win even greater glory. This can be learned from many things, and not least from the story of this wonderful man.

17e When he died and the emperor learned of it, the emperor wished to lay him in one of the holy shrines. But when he learned that it was right to give the shepherd’s body back to his flock, he himself led the procession, and the company of the empresses followed, with all the officials and those under them, soldiers and private citizens alike. With this same zeal the city of Antioch received him, and the cities after it, until he came to the great river. Along the bank of the Euphrates citizens ran together, and foreigners too. All who could fit in, and people from the neighboring lands, hurried to share the blessing. Many staff-bearers walked beside the bier. They frightened off, by striking them, those who were trying to strip the body of its clothing and wanted to take rags from it as relics. You could hear some singing psalms and others singing laments. One woman, mourning, called him protector, another called him nourisher, another shepherd and teacher. One man, weeping, called him father, another helper and guardian. With such praises and laments they gave that holy and sacred body to the tomb. I marvel that when he changed his office he did not change his way of life. He did not settle into an easy routine in the bishop’s seat, but increased his ascetic labors. For this reason I have counted him in my history of the monks, and I have not separated him from the company he loved, since I seek the blessing that comes from it.

Chapter 18

18a To the holy men already mentioned I will add the great Eusebius. He died not long ago. He lived a great many years, and he bore labor equal to his years, and gathered virtue equal to his labor. The profit he carried away from it was many times greater, for the Judge of the contest surpasses the struggles themselves in the generosity of his rewards. At the beginning he entrusted the care of himself to others and was led wherever they led. They too were godly men, athletes and trainers of virtue. He spent some time with them and took up the knowledge of the ascetic philosophy well and thoroughly. Then he embraced the solitary life. He took a ridge of a mountain, on which there lies a very large village (they call it Asichas). He made use only of a low wall, not even fitting its stones together with mortar. In the open air he spent the rest of his life in hardship. He was clothed in a garment of skins and fed on chickpeas and beans soaked in water. Sometimes he also ate dried figs, trying in this way to prop up the weakness of his body. He reached a deep old age, so that he lost most of his teeth. Yet he changed neither his food nor his dwelling. He was frozen in winter and scorched in summer, and he endured the opposite extremes of the weather with patience. His face was shriveled and wrinkled, and all the limbs of his body were dried up like salted meat. He wore his body down with so many labors that even his belt would not stay at his waist but slipped down. Nothing held it up, for his buttocks and hips had wasted away and gave the belt an easy way downward. So he sewed the belt to his tunic and in this way contrived to make it stay in place. Talking with the many wore him out completely. He was continually seeing the vision of God, and he did not want to draw his mind away from it.

18b Yet even though his love was so ardent, he allowed a few of his acquaintances to open the door and come inside. He would offer them teaching from the divine oracles, and as they left he told them to put clay against the door again. Later he judged it better to avoid even meetings with the few, and he walled up the entrance completely, fitting a very large stone to that door. Through a small opening he spoke with a few of his familiars without being seen, for he had arranged it so. Through it he also received his small portion of food. Then he forbade conversation with everyone, and he thought only me worthy of that sweet voice, dear to God. When I wished to leave, he kept me a very long time, talking about heavenly matters. Many came to him and demanded the gift of his blessing. He was greatly annoyed by the commotion. Giving no thought to his old age and not reckoning with the weakness that weighed on him, he climbed over the wall, which was not easy to climb even for the very strong. He went to a nearby company of ascetics, and again using a small wall by the corner of a building, he carried on his usual labors among his companions. The man who presided over this flock, a man full of every virtue, said that Eusebius got through the seven weeks of the holy fast on fifteen figs. He fought this contest when he was past ninety years old and worn down by an illness hard to describe. But his eagerness was stronger than his illness, and his divine longing made everything seem easy and light. Streaming with these sweats, he too reached the goal of the race, looking on the Judge of the contest and longing for the crowns. As for me, I ask to obtain that intercession which I enjoyed while he was still living. For I believe that he lives, and that he has a purer boldness before God.

Chapter 19

19a I would be wronging virtue if I did not make the life of the admirable Salamanes known to those who want to hear of it, and let it lie buried in forgetfulness. So I will tell his story briefly. There is a village on the western side of the river Euphrates, right on its bank, called Capersana. Salamanes came from this village. He loved the life of quiet, and in the village on the far side of the river he found a small cottage and shut himself in, leaving neither door nor window. Once a year he dug through the ground beside the wall, and he received food for the whole year, never speaking to any human being. He lived this way not for a short time but for a very long time indeed. The bishop of the city to which the village belonged learned of the man’s virtue and came, wanting to give him the gift of the priesthood. He broke through part of the cottage and went in, laid his hand on him, and offered the prayer. He said many things to him and told him of the grace that had come upon him. But he heard no word in reply, and he went away, ordering the opening to be built up again.

19b At another time the people of the village he had come from crossed the river by night, broke into the cottage, and seized him. He neither resisted nor gave any order. They carried him off to their own village, and at dawn they built the same kind of cottage and shut him in at once. He kept silence just as before, speaking to no one. A few days later the people of the village across the river came by night, broke into the cottage, and carried him back to themselves. He did not object, nor did he force them to let him stay, nor again did he eagerly set off with them. So completely did he make himself dead to this life, and he spoke the apostle’s saying truthfully: “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” Such a man was this one also. These things are enough to show the whole purpose of his life. I have gathered a blessing from this man too, and I will pass on to the account of the others.

Chapter 20

20a There is a village in our country called Homer’s village. Beside it the inspired Maris built a small house, and he stayed shut up in it for thirty-seven years. It took in a great deal of damp from the neighboring mountain, and some streams of water welled up in it. How much harm this does to the body, both townspeople and country people know, for even to the peasants the illnesses that spring from it are plain. Yet not even this persuaded that holy man to change his cottage. He stayed on, enduring, until he had finished his course. His earlier life too he had passed amid the labors of virtue. So he kept both body and soul pure. He made this clear to me himself, telling me that his body had stayed uncorrupted, just as it came from his mother’s womb. And this although in his youth he had taken part in many festivals of the martyrs, and had charmed the crowds with his fine voice. For he sang psalms for a very long time, and he was also a man of striking bodily beauty. Yet neither the beauty of his body, nor the brightness of his voice, nor mixing with the many harmed the beauty of his soul. He lived much like those who are shut in, took care of his own soul, and increased his virtue through the labors of his confinement.

20b I often enjoyed his company. He would order the door to be opened for me, and when I went in he embraced me and spoke at length about the philosophic life. He too shone with simplicity, and he utterly detested elaborate ways. He loved poverty more than the greatest wealth. At ninety years old he wore garments made of goat’s hair. Bread and a little salt supplied all the food he needed. After a long time he longed to see the spiritual and mystical sacrifice offered, and he asked that the offering of the divine gift be made there. I gladly agreed. I had the sacred vessels brought, for the place was not far away, and using the hands of the deacons in place of an altar, I offered the mystical, divine and saving sacrifice. He was filled with every spiritual pleasure. He thought he was looking at heaven itself, and he said he had never enjoyed such joy. I was warmly loved by him, and I thought I would be doing wrong if I did not speak well of him after his death. I thought I would wrong others too, if I did not urge them to seek this excellent help from him,

Chapter 21

21a Now that we have gone through the struggles of the athletes of virtue already named, telling in summary both their labors in training, their sweat in the contests, and their bright and glorious victories, let us write about the way of life of those who are still alive. They are contending nobly and are eager to outdo their predecessors in toil. Let us leave a profitable memory for those to come. Just as the lives of the saints who shone long ago brought very great benefit to those after them, so the stories of these men will be patterns for those who come after us. I will begin with the great Jacob. He is first among the others both in time and in labor, and those who imitate him do wonderful and astonishing things. Somehow it has happened that this name stands first both among those who have departed and among those who are still alive. For when I told the story of the earlier men, I began with that divine Jacob who scattered the Persian army by prayer. When the walls of the city had fallen, he did not allow the city to be taken, and he forced the enemy to flee, by sending gnats and mosquitoes against them as his soldiers. So let his equal in honor and in character lead the company of the athletes who are still living. I do not say this just because he shares the name, but because he imitated that man’s virtue and has himself become an example of philosophy for others. He kept company with the great Maron and shared in his divine teaching, and then he put his teacher in the shade by his greater labors. For Maron had as his enclosure the precinct of the old error, and he set up a tent of goat-hair skins, and by using it he escaped the assaults of rain and snow. But this man has said goodbye to all of these things, tent, hut and enclosure. He has the sky for a roof and takes every hostile blow the air can deal. At one time he is flooded by a pouring rain, at another stiffened by frost and snow, and at another scorched and burned by the sun’s rays. He endures it all, and contends as if in someone else’s body, striving by sheer eagerness to overcome the nature of the body.

21b For though he wears this mortal body, subject to suffering, he lives as if he were beyond suffering. He practices the bodiless life while in the body, and with the divine Paul he cries out: “Though we walk in the flesh, we do not wage war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not fleshly, but powerful through God for the tearing down of strongholds, tearing down reasonings and every high thing raised up against the knowledge of God, and taking captive every thought to the obedience of Christ.” But he trained for these struggles above nature with smaller labors first. He shut himself up at first in a small cell, freed himself from outside disturbances, and fastened his mind to the remembrance of God. In this way he practiced perfect virtue. When he had trained himself very well and made his soul used to good labors, he dared the greater contests. He took possession of this mountain, which is thirty stades from this city, and made it famous and venerable, though long ago it was obscure and altogether barren. It is now believed to have received such a blessing that the soil on it is being used up, as people coming from all directions carry it away for their benefit. He lives on this mountain and is seen by all who come. He has no cave, as I said, no tent, no hut, no fence, no wall around him. He is seen praying, resting, standing, sitting, in health, and held by some sickness. So he is always contending before spectators and fighting off the necessities of nature. [The Greek of the next sentence is damaged; the sense is:] Even for other people, raised with a little privacy, it is not easy to bear such things when strangers are present, much less for one trained in the highest philosophy. [uncertain] I say this not because I learned it from someone else, but because I have seen it myself. Fourteen years ago a severe illness struck him and left him in the condition one would expect for someone with a mortal nature. It was the height of summer, and the heat of the sun’s rays burned more fiercely, the winds were asleep and the air did not stir. The illness was a flood of bile moving downward, biting the bowel, pressing on it and forcing it to run outward.

21c Then I saw the great endurance of the man. Very many villages had gathered, meaning to seize his victorious body, and he sat there struck from two sides. Nature forced him to go and relieve himself, but shame before the crowd standing around forced him to stay in position. I knew this, so I gave the people who had come many exhortations and many threats, telling them to go away. Finally I even laid on them the bonds of the priesthood, and with great labor I sent them off late in the evening. Yet even when they had gone, the holy man did not give way to nature. He stayed on, enduring, until deep night came on and forced everyone to go home. I came to him again the next day. I saw that the burning heat had grown fiercer, and that the fever lying on him was fed and increased by the fire from outside. So I pretended to have a headache and said I could not bear the sun’s glare. I begged him to let me improvise a little shade beside him. When he gave the order, we set up three reeds, hung two goatskin rugs on them, and so contrived a shade. He told me to go inside, but I said: “Father, it would be shameful for me, young and strong as I am, to have this comfort, while you, held by a raging fever and in need of such relief, sit outside taking the sun’s blows. If you want me to enjoy the shade, share this little tent with me. I want to stay with you, but the sun prevents me.” When he heard these words he yielded, and chose to accept my care. Once we were enjoying the shade together, I began another argument. I said that I needed to lie down, since my hip could not bear sitting without pain. He urged me to lie down, but I answered that I could not bear to recline while I saw him sitting. “So if you want me to enjoy this rest too, father, let us lie down together. I will not blush if I am not lying down alone.” By such arguments I outwitted his endurance and brought him the comfort of reclining. As he lay on the ground I spoke to him in gentle words, turning his soul toward a more cheerful frame of mind.

21d I put my hand inside his garment and tried to rub his back gently, and then I saw the great load of iron which bound his waist and his neck. There were other chains too, running from the ring around the neck, two in front and two behind, slanting down to the lower ring. They made the shape of the letter Chi, in front and behind, and joined the two rings to each other. His arms also had similar bonds inside, around the elbows. When I saw this load, worth many talents, I begged him to spare his suffering body. It could not bear both the burdens he had taken on willingly and an illness he had not chosen. “For now, father,” I said, “the fever is doing the work of the iron. When it eases, we will put the iron load on the body again.” He yielded in this too, charmed by many such coaxing words. He was ill for only a few days then and recovered easily. Some time later he fell into a more severe illness. Many people gathered from many places to seize his body. When the people of the city heard of it, they all ran together, soldiers and private citizens, some taking up the gear of war, others using whatever weapons they happened to find. Closing ranks, they fought, and they let fly missiles, not to strike but only to frighten. In this way they drove off the neighbors. They laid the champion of the five contests on a bed. He was quite unaware of what was happening; he did not even feel his hair being pulled out by the country people. They rushed him to the city, and when they reached the shrine of the prophet, they put the bed down in the monastery near it. Someone came to Beroea, where I happened to be, to tell what had happened and to bring the news of his death. I ran at once and spent the whole night on the road. After dawn I found the holy man unable to speak or to recognize any of those present. But when I spoke to him and said that the great Acacius was addressing him, he opened his eyes at once, asked how I was, and inquired when I had come. When I answered these questions, he closed his eyes again.

21e Three days passed. Then he asked where he was. When he learned it, he was very upset and asked to be carried back to the mountain at once. I wanted to take care of him in every way, so I immediately ordered the litter to be lifted and carried him to the place he longed for. There I saw how little he cared for honor, though his head was worthy of reverence. The next day I brought him barley gruel, cooled first, because he would not take anything hot; he had completely refused the use of fire. When he would not take it, I said, “Father, spare us all. We count your health as the common salvation of us all. You are not only set before us as a pattern of benefit; you also help us by your prayer and win us the favor of God. And if the unfamiliar food wears you down, endure this too, Father, for this also is a form of philosophy. As you once overcame your appetite by endurance when you were healthy and hungry, so now, when you have no appetite at all, show the same endurance in taking food.” While I was saying this, the man of God Polychronius was with me. He joined in my plea and offered to be the first to take some of the food himself, though it was early morning, and he often fed his body only once in seven days. Overcome by the argument, Acacius took one cup of the gruel, with his eyes shut tight, as we do when we drink something bitter. Since his feet had lost the power to walk through weakness, we persuaded him to have them bathed in water. I think it right to bring this part of his philosophy into the open too. The bowl was lying close by, and one of the attendants tried to cover it with a basket so that it would not be seen by those who came to him. But he said, “Why are you covering the bowl?” The man answered, “So that it won’t be an offense to the visitors who come to see you.” “Away with you, child,” he said. “Do not hide from men what has been made plain to the God of all. I want to live for him alone, and I take no thought for human opinion. What good would it do if these people credited me with more discipline, and God with less? They do not give the reward for my labors; God supplies it.”

21f Who would not marvel at these words, and at the mind that produced them, so far above human glory? I have learned of another such incident. It was evening, late evening, and the time for his meal. He took the potsherd that lay near him and was eating soaked lentils, for that was his food. A man came from the city, entrusted with some military collection. Acacius saw him from far off, but he did not put down the lentils; he went on eating his food as usual. Supposing the man to be an apparition of a demon, he pelted him with words and drove him off as an enemy. To show that he was not afraid, he kept putting the lentils to his mouth in between. The man under this abuse begged him, saying that he was a human being, and that because of some oath he had to leave the city before evening, which was why he had come at this hour. Acacius said, “Take courage and do not be afraid, but pray and then go on your way. Be my table companion too, and share my food.” As he said this, he filled his right hand and gave the man some of the lentils. In this way he drove the passion of empty glory out of his mind, along with the others. As for his endurance, it is unnecessary even to speak of it, since the sight of him bears witness. Often, when snow fell for three days and as many nights, he lay face down praying to God, and was buried so completely that not even a bit of the rags around him could be seen. Often the neighbors would take shovels and hoes, clear away the snow that covered him in this way, and pull him up and raise him as he lay there. From these labors he gathered the gifts of divine grace, and all who wish share in them. By his blessing many fevers have been put out and are still being put out. Many cases of malarial chills have eased and left entirely. Many demons have been forced to flee. The water blessed by his right hand becomes a remedy against harm. Who does not know of the dead child raised through his prayer? His parents live in the suburbs of the city. They had become fathers of many children, but had sent every one of them to the grave before their time.

21g When this last child was born, the father ran to the man of God. He begged that the child might have a long life, and he promised to dedicate it to God if it lived. The child lived four years and then reached the end of its life. The father was away. He came back suddenly and saw the child being carried out. He snatched it from the bier and said, “I must keep my promise and give it to the man of God, even though it is dead.” He carried it there, as he had said he would, and laid it before those holy feet. He spoke the same words he had spoken to his household. The godly man set the child before him, bent his knees, and lay face down, beseeching the Master of life and death. Late in the evening the child gave a cry and called for its father. Then that holy man knew that the Master had received his plea and granted life, and he stood up. He worshiped the One who does the will of those who fear him and hears their prayer, and he finished his supplication. Then he gave the child back to the one who had fathered it. I saw this myself, and I heard the father tell of the wonder. I have told the story to many people, because it is worthy of the apostles and I knew it would bring great benefit to its hearers. I too have often enjoyed this man’s help. I will mention one or two instances, since I think it would be very ungrateful to pass over them in silence and not teach the kinds of kindness he showed me. The abominable Marcion had sown many thorns of impiety in the territory of the city of Cyrrhus. I tried to pull them up by the roots, and, as the saying goes, I moved every rope and used every device. But those who [received] my care did not love me. To put it in the prophet’s words, they slandered me, and they “set evil against me in return for good, and hatred in return for my love.” They used sorcerers’ spells and wicked demons as their helpers, and they tried to wage war on me unseen. One night a vile demon came, shouting in the Syriac language: “Why are you fighting Marcion, so-and-so?

21h “Why have you taken up this battle against him? What grief has he ever caused you? Put an end to the war, and stop your hostility. Otherwise you will learn by experience how good quiet is. Know well that I would have speared you long ago, if I did not see the chorus of the martyrs, together with Jacob, guarding you.” I heard this, and I said to one of my acquaintances who was sleeping nearby, “Do you hear what is being said, so-and-so?” He answered, “I heard it all. I wanted to get up, look out, and find out who was speaking, but I kept still for your sake, thinking you were asleep.” So we both got up and looked out. We saw no one moving and heard no one speaking. But the others who lived with us also heard those words. Then I understood what he meant. By the “chorus of the martyrs” he meant the little flask of the martyrs’ oil, which held a blessing gathered from many martyrs and hung by my bed. Under my head lay the old cloak of the great Jacob, which had become a stronger defense for me than any wall of adamant. Another time I was about to attack the largest of their villages. Many things came up in between and kept me from setting out. So I sent word to my friend Isaiah, asking him to help me by securing divine support. He said, “Take courage. All those hindrances have been dissolved like spiders’ webs. God taught me this in the night, not by sketching it in a dream but by showing it to me in a waking vision. For I saw this, he said, when I had begun the psalmody. In that direction, where those villages lie, I saw a fiery serpent crawling from west to east and carried through the middle of the air. When I had finished three prayers, I saw it bend again and form a circle, with its tail joined to its head. When I had finished eight more prayers, I saw it cut in two and dissolved into smoke.” That is what he foresaw, and we saw the outcome agree with his prediction. At dawn, led by the arch-evil serpent, men who had once belonged to Marcion’s band, and who had now become part of the apostolic ranks, rushed at us from the west and showed us their drawn swords.

21i Around the third hour of the day they coiled themselves together and looked to their own defense, just as the serpent covers its head with its tail. At the eighth hour they scattered and gave us room to enter the village. At once we found a serpent made of bronze, and they were worshiping it. They were eager to serve the accursed serpent, who had openly taken up war against the Creator and Maker of all, as though he were that Creator’s enemy. Since my account has come to the telling of divine revelations, let me relate what I heard from that truthful tongue. He did not tell it out of ambition, for that passion too was far from his divine soul. Some need forced him to say what he wished to keep hidden. I had begged him to entreat the God of all to make my field clean of weeds and free it completely from heretical seeds. The error of the abominable Marcion, which had held on for so long, grieved me deeply. Under my urging he said, “You need neither me nor any other intercessor with him. You have John, the great one, the voice of the Word, the forerunner of the Master, who offers this very petition for you continually.” I said that I trusted his prayers, and those of the other holy apostles and prophets whose relics had recently been brought to us. “Take courage,” he said, “for you have John the Baptist.” But even so I could not bear to keep silent. I pressed him much harder, asking and wanting to learn why he had mentioned John rather than the others. He said, “I wanted to embrace his lovely relics.” I answered, “I will not bring them unless you promise to tell me what you saw.” He promised. The next day I brought what he longed for, told everyone to stand far off, and he told me alone: “When you received these protectors of the city, who had come from Phoenicia and Palestine, together with the choir of David, a thought came to me: whether these were truly the relics of John the great, and not of some other martyr of the same name.”

21j “One day later I got up at night for the psalm-singing. I saw someone in white clothing, who said, ‘Brother Jacob, tell us, why did you not meet us when we arrived?’ I asked who they were. He answered, ‘Those who came yesterday from Phoenicia and Palestine. All received us eagerly, the shepherd, the people, the townsmen and the villagers. You alone did not share in the honor.’ He was hinting at the doubt I had had. He said that he replied to this: [text damaged] ‘Even when you and all the others are absent, I worship God.’ “Again the next day, at the same hour, that same man appeared and said, ‘Look, brother Jacob, at the one standing over there, whose robe is like snow in color, and before whom a furnace of fire is set.’ I turned my eyes in that direction and guessed it was John the Baptist, for he was wearing that garment and stretching out his hand as if baptizing. ‘He is the one you supposed,’ he said. “At another time, when you were going by night to the first village to discipline them as rebels, I had urged them to offer God a more earnest prayer, and I stayed awake the whole night, beseeching the Master. Then I heard a voice saying, ‘Fear nothing, Jacob. The great John the Baptist is entreating the God of all through the whole night. There would have been much bloodshed, if the devil’s boldness had not been put out by his intercessions.’” Having told me this, he charged me to keep it to myself and not to take others as witnesses. But for the sake of the benefit, I have not only told the story to many, I am also committing it to writing. He said too that he saw the patriarch Joseph, with white hair and beard, giving off in old age the radiance of his beauty, and at the very height of virtue calling himself the last of the saints. For he said that when he first named [one of those who share the tomb with him], Joseph named himself last. He also told me of the many kinds of attacks that evil demons made on him.

21k “At the very start of this way of life,” he said, “a naked figure appeared to me. He looked like an Ethiopian and shot fire from his eyes. When I saw him I was filled with fear. I turned to prayer and could not bring myself to eat, since he appeared at mealtimes. Seven days passed, then eight, then ten, and I stayed without food. At last I despised the evil assault, sat down, and ate. He could not bear this boldness of mine and threatened to beat me with a rod. I said to him, ‘If you have been given permission by the Master of all, strike, and I will gladly take the blow as coming from him. But if you have not been given permission, you will not strike, even if you rage ten thousand times.’ When he heard this he fled then, but he kept raging against me in secret. Twice a week water was brought up to me from below. He would meet the man who carried it, take the form of me, take the water, order the man to go away, and pour the water out. He did this not twice only but three times, and so he brought the torment of thirst against me. I was greatly distressed and asked the man who usually brought it, ‘Why have you not brought water, now that fifteen days have passed?’ He said he had brought it three or four times and that I had received it. ‘And where,’ I said, ‘did I receive it from you?’ When he showed me the place, I said, ‘Even if you see me coming there ten thousand times, do not hand over the vessel until you reach this place.’ In this way I undid that plot of his, and he tried another. At night he shouted, ‘I will fill you with such a stench and bring you such disgrace that no human being will ever want to look at you anywhere.’ I answered, ‘I will be grateful to you. Against your will you will be doing your enemy a kindness, because you will make me delight even more in the remembrance of God. With more free time I will have the vision of the divine beauty as my constant work.’ A few days later, at midday, while I was performing my usual service, I saw two women coming down from the mountain.”

21l “I was disgusted by this unusual sight and tried to throw stones at them. Then I remembered the threat of that avenging spirit and supposed this was the disgrace. So I cried out first: ‘Even if they sit on my shoulders, I will not throw stones, I will not chase them away. I will use prayer alone.’ When I said this, the women vanished, and the appearance of the vision was brought to nothing by my word. After this, again at night, I was praying when I heard the noise of a carriage, the shout of a driver, and the neighing of horses. The strangeness of it troubled me. I thought: no governor was visiting the city at that time, there was no road for carriages here, and the season was not suitable for carriages. While I was reasoning in this way, I heard the din of a crowd drawing near. Some leaders carrying rods were shouting, whistling, driving most of the people out of the middle, and clearing the way for the one in front. When he seemed very close, I said, ‘Who are you? Where have you come from? What do you need that you have come at this hour? How long will you play, you wretch, and despise the patience of God?’ I said this facing east and offering my plea to God. He shoved me but could not knock me down, for divine grace held firm, and at once everything vanished.” He also said that at the time of those accursed robbers, when they set out from Isauria, burned most of the east, and plundered it, he was very much afraid. It was not death he feared, for he was not so fond of his body, but being enslaved and taken captive, and having to look on impiety and lawlessness. The devil noticed this fear, for he had often heard him tell his acquaintances about it, and at night he imitated the wailing of women. “I seemed to hear,” he said, “that the enemy had come and were setting fire to the villages. At once I divided my head in two, set the villages on the right and the left, and carried them over my shoulders to my chest. I made my neck ready for the sword’s cut, so that I would receive a quick blow and be delivered from that dreadful sight.”

21m So I spent that whole night, always expecting their attack. When day came and some people arrived, I asked what they had heard about the Isaurians. They said they had heard nothing in those days. “And so,” he said, “I recognized that this vision too was the devil’s.” Another time, he said, the devil took the likeness of a vigorous young man, in the bloom of youth and adorned with fair hair, and came up to him smiling and playing. “But I armed myself with anger,” he said, “and drove him off with abuse. He stayed, looking at me like a prostitute, and his smile and his voice gushed pleasure. Then I sharpened my anger further and said, ‘How can you go all around the world and bring such plots to everyone?’ He said that he was not alone, but that a host of demons was scattered over the whole world, at once playing and working hard at such things. For in what looks like play they labor to destroy the whole human race. ‘But you, be gone,’ I said, ‘at the command of Christ, who sent a whole legion down into the deep by way of the pigs.’” The devil heard this and fled at once. He could not bear the power of the Master’s name, nor look upon the brightness of the servant’s philosophy. I know many more stories besides these, but I do not wish to write them down, lest their number give weaker readers an excuse for unbelief. To those who see the divine man, nothing said of him seems incredible, since the virtue they see confirms what is told. But this written account will pass on to those who come after, and for most people the ears are less trustworthy than the eyes. So I will measure my narrative by the weakness of those who hear it. Other people built for him a very large shrine in the nearby village, not many stades away, and I too prepared a tomb in the shrine of the apostles, the glorious victors. But when the divine man learned this, he begged me again and again to give his body burial on that mountain. I said many times that it is not fitting for one who has neglected the present life to make provision for burial.

21n But when I saw that this was his heart’s desire, I agreed and consented, and had the coffin cut and brought up. When I saw the stone being damaged by the frost, I allowed a small house to be built over the coffin. When he ordered it and we had finished the building and put the roof on, he said, “I will not allow this to be called the tomb of Jacob. I want it to be a shrine of the glorious martyrs, and I want to lie in another coffin, like a resident alien, counted worthy to live as a neighbor beside them.” And he not only said this but did it. He gathered relics of many prophets, many apostles, and very many martyrs from every quarter and laid them in one coffin. He wished to dwell with the people of the saints, to rise with them, and he longed to be counted worthy of the vision of God. This is sufficient proof of the humility of his mind. For he who had amassed so great a wealth, while living in utter poverty, desired to live as a neighbor to the company of the rich. What labors this venerable man endured, how great his struggles, how much grace he enjoyed from God, how many victories he won, and with what crowns he is adorned, these things are enough to teach. But since some people accuse him of a harsh temper and dislike his love of solitude and quiet, I will say a little about this and then end my account. He is exposed to all for viewing, as I said, neither fenced in by a wall nor sheltered by any hut or tent. Each person who arrives, hindered by no enclosure, comes straight up and wants to speak with him. The other lovers of this philosophy have walls and doors and the enjoyment of quiet. The one shut in opens the door when he wishes, puts people off as long as he likes, and takes his fill of the divine vision as much as he wants. Here there is none of this. That is why he is especially irritated by those who disturb him at the time of prayer. If they go away at once when he tells them, he returns to prayer. But if they stay and keep pestering him, and he urges them once or twice without persuading them, then he becomes angry and sends them away with a rebuke. I once spoke with him about this. I told him that some were distressed at being driven off and not sharing in his blessing. I said it was fitting that those who come for this purpose, traveling many days’ journey, should not go back grieved but filled with gladness, and should feed those who do not know you on the stories of your philosophy.

21o He answered, “I have taken this mountain for no one else’s sake but my own. I carry many wounds from my sins, and I need much treatment. For this reason I beg our Master to hand me the remedies for my wickedness. How then would it not be absurd, and very foolish, to break off the chain of my pleading and in the middle of it to hold a conversation with men? “Suppose I were the servant of a man of my own nature, and at the hour of service to my master I left off bringing him his food or drink at the proper time and started a conversation with one of my fellow servants. How many blows would I rightly receive! Or suppose I came to a ruler and was telling of the injustice I suffer from someone, and I broke off the speech in the middle and began to say other things to some of those standing by. Do you not think the judge would be angry, deprive me of his help, add lashes, and drive me away from the bar? How then is it right that a servant should behave properly toward a master, and a petitioner toward a judge, while I, who come to God, the eternal Master, the most just Judge and King of all, should not approach in the same way, but in the middle of my prayer turn to my fellow servants and carry on a long conversation?” This is what I heard from him, and I passed it on to those who had been offended. It seems to me well and rightly said. For besides what he said, it is also the way of lovers to look past everything else and cling to the one whom they love and cherish, to dream of him by night and to picture him by day. That is why he seems to me to be annoyed: he has come to the contemplation he longs for, and he is prevented from being filled with the beauty he loves. I have written these things as a plain narrative, taking care to be quite brief, so that I would not wear out my readers with length. If this man lives on for a time, he will no doubt add countless other achievements to the earlier ones, and others will write those down. As for me, I have a great longing to depart from here. May the one who presides over the contests of the athletes of godliness grant this man an end of his struggles worthy of them. May he let the rest of the course turn out like the first part, so that he reaches the goal as a victor. And may he hold up our weakness by this man’s prayers, so that, strengthened, we may wrestle back from our many defeats, and leave this life with victory.