Homilia 9

Asterius, bishop of Amasea, on the holy martyr of Christ, Phocas. Sacred and inspired is the entire catalogue of noble martyrs, who by their passion have rendered the grace that transcends passion, and by their blood have fulfilled the recompense for blood to the Saviour of all. Yet among these very ones, the glory is not one for all, nor are equal honors apportioned to all by a single measure, but the first and second do not escape even the catalogue of the saints. The cause of this, I think, is the exceedingly precise and impartial nature of the judge. For he observes both the magnitudes of the torments and the steadfastness of endurance, and, testing the contest, he distributes rewards to the athletes according to merit. And it is in no way surprising if from God justice is thus honored, since even among us generals and judges of contests are not equal to the bravest or to the contestants, but indeed they award to each gifts proportionate to the measure of his achievement. I have gone through these things in order to show that the one who today provides us with the occasion for our discourse is more illustrious than his comrades and fellow contestants. For the others are neither all known to all, nor do they have their valor celebrated; but there is no one who is ignorant of Phocas. Rather, just as the ray of the sun is spread over all eyes, so too has the fame of this martyr filled every ear. For as soon as I come into this precious shrine of his and touch the sacred reliquary of his body, I am filled from the place with the memory of all the narratives told about him.

I see the gardener’s craft, the artlessness of his soul, his hospitality, the excellence of the seacoast, the benefactor of the inland, and I become a disciple of the martyr, learning to preserve piety even in the face of ultimate dangers. But if it seems good, leaving aside the common and well-known matters, I will relate to you, lovers of martyrs, the exceptional narratives of the martyr. This holy man, the great benefit of Christians, was brought forth by neighboring Sinope, an ancient and renowned city, rich in noble and philosophical men. His occupation in life was gardening and its care, a garden he owned somewhere before the city gate at the mouth of the isthmus, which he cultivated diligently, providing a livelihood for himself and for those in need. He also opened his small and humble home most willingly to strangers. Dwelling by the highway, he set forth his possessions in common for those who came; and he was a young Lot, not of the Sodomites, but of the Sinopeans. As time advanced, he found the commandment not without reward; for from his hospitality he gained the occasion of his life-giving death. Whence and how, hear a little later. When the word of our piety was denounced and the marvelous proclamation went forth to every ear, making known Christ and the mysteries from him, the nations raged, as the psalmist says, and the kings and rulers gathered together; and the peoples of error were angered that Jesus reigned. Every Christian was sought out as a malefactor, and the one near was punished, and the one far away was tracked down.

Therefore neither the lowliness of his occupation nor his being a gardener concealed Phocas, but he was revealed as a genuine initiate of Christ. And indeed those who were ordered to bring him to trial without judgment or defense came upon him. For the charge was piety toward God, a charge which the perpetrator confessed with a clear voice; and though no one questioned him, he showed it by his deeds, and when asked, he shouted with joy. So the executioners of his punishment, who are also the cause of our feast, arrived and lodged with the very man they sought, neither knowing him nor being known. For a time they kept the reason for their visit secret, so that they might first learn from those outside the city who Phocas was and where he lived, and then suddenly fall upon him and seize him, as the Jews once did with Judas in the garden against the Lord. But they were unaware that they held the quarry within their nets, the dogs the lamb, the wolves the sheep, and the kid lay down with the leopards, the lamb grazed with the wolves, and the lions shared a common dwelling with the calf. But when, as usually happens, table and familiarity gave them confidence in one another, the martyr asked them who they were and for what reason they had come to his city. They, respecting the man's eager welcome and hospitality, and having charged no one to reveal what would be said, disclosed to him the secret and revealed the plot of the ambush, namely that they were seeking to seize Phocas for punishment.

Therefore, in addition to his hospitality, they also asked him to grant them this favor and to join them in the hunt for the man they sought. The servant of the Lord heard this and, receiving the word with an unshaken soul, neither felt nor uttered anything base or ignoble; nor, fearing the danger, did he look to flight, even though he had ample opportunity for this, since it was not yet evident that he himself was the one they sought. On the contrary, he did the very opposite, having chosen to act with courage rather than to flee. Indeed, he even assents to their request. "I too," he says, "will join you in the matter at hand. For I know the man and, having searched for him easily, I will find him; and not far off, but on the coming day I will show him to you yourselves; only rest here in my humble dwelling." Having thus given them a firm promise, he divides himself between two tasks: the reception of his own murderers and the preparation of his grave. Having prepared both the pit and the things necessary for burial, he approached them the next day and said, "I have diligently searched for Phocas for you, and the quarry is already ready; and, if you wish, let him be seized." When they said in great joy, "And where is the man?" he replied, "Not far, but with you; I myself am this man for you; so do with the matter as you will and fulfill the purpose of your journey and your labor." The men were struck in their souls and stood petrified at the hearing, feeling shame before the salt and the table and the generous host in his poverty.

He also urged them on to the boldness of the murder and commanded them not to hesitate even for a moment, saying that the killing was not the work of their hand but the undertaking of those who had ordered it. He spoke, he persuaded, he suffered, and, having his head cut off, he was offered as a sacrifice pleasing to God. A pillar and support of the divine churches of the world, from that time until now we have him, O men; and he is the most illustrious of martyrs, holding the first place among the best. He draws everyone in a body to his own resting place; and the highways are full of those hastening from every land to the place of prayer. That magnificent temple, then, which was allotted to hold the sacred body of the martyr, is a relief for the oppressed, a clinic for the afflicted, a table for the starving. For Phocas, now dead, nourishes more abundantly than Joseph in Egypt did when alive. For the one exchanged grain for silver, but this one bestows it freely on those in need. Thus the tribes of the poor and wandering flock to the isthmus of Sinope as to a common treasury. But so it is there. And if somewhere else, through small relics, the martyr has established for himself, as it were, a colony from the metropolis, that place too is wondrous and eagerly sought by all Christians, just as this sacred precinct among us is a lodging for those celebrating. Honorable

for the death of his holy ones is before the Lord; and although the relics are divided in many places, the whole preserves the blessed one's good name everywhere. Thus, for example, in the imperial city, the head of Italy and queen of the world, the martyr enjoys a public escort and honor, and a conspicuous house, adorned with beauty. And the Romans venerate Phocas no less than Peter and Paul. Therefore, as the account teaches, they zealously acquired the head of the martyr, choosing a purpose opposite to that of the abominable Herodias. For she, thirsting for the blood of a righteous man, demanded the precious head for insult; but they, for the sake of honor and their own benefit, procured the martyr's head worthily. And sailors and seafarers everywhere—not only those crossing the Euxine Sea, but also those cutting through the Adriatic, borne beyond the Aegean, and all who sail the western ocean and voyage in the eastern gulfs—have changed the customary chants with which they relieve the toil of the voyage into a new acclamation of the martyr; and Phocas is entirely sung by them on their lips, since he also provides clear signs of his aid. For often he has appeared, now rousing the helmsman who had dozed at the rudder when a storm was expected by night; at other times again, stretching the ropes and tending the sail, and from the prow looking out for the shallows. Hence it became a custom for sailors to have Phocas as a fellow-diner. And since it is impossible for the now bodiless one to be a table-companion and sharer of the meal, learn how a pious thought contrived the impossible.

Every day they assign the portion of food to the martyr for equal distribution among the diners. One of the banqueters purchases this portion, deposits the money, and on the next day another does so, and at another time yet another; and this lot of purchase goes around to all, providing each day a buyer for the portion. When a harbor receives them and they come to land, the money is distributed to the hungry; and this is the portion of Phocas, a benefaction for the poor. Even emperors have marveled at this most steadfast and God-loving man, and they adorn the church of the renowned poor man with precious offerings. Those who come later strive to surpass their predecessors. And it is no wonder if men of the Roman empire, pious and bred in customs and laws, are so reverent toward the servant of Christ, since the wonder has also reached the barbarians; and all the most savage Scythians, those who inhabit the continent opposite the Euxine Pontus, dwellers near Lake Maeotis and the river Tanais, those who live in the Bosporus and extend as far as the river Phasis, all these serve as bodyguards to the gardener; though differing from us in all customs and practices, they become of one mind in this alone, their savagery of manners tamed by the truth.

One governor, then, and king from that place, having laid aside the crown of his head, gleaming with gold and the blooms of gems, and having taken off the war-breastplate, which contained the materials of wealth—for the panoply of the barbarians is boastful and delicate—sent both as offerings through the martyr to God, consecrating the foundations of both power and rank. For it is evident that the crown was a thank-offering for the kingdom, and the breastplate for strength in wars. As for the benefits that continually occur in addition to these, through visions in dreams and through the healings which the sick enjoy, how could one even describe them, since it is impossible to apply speech to each individual action? We, then, having concluded here, will offer glory to the Savior God, whose faithful servants were deemed worthy of such grace that, for every need and circumstance, according to the gift given to them, they benefit their fellow servants. And these things after their departure from here and the separation from the body, whose memory together with the work

day runs through cities and villages everywhere, proclaiming the benefactor Lord, to whom is due all honor and power, majesty and magnificence, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.