In Gordium martyrem

Homily 18. On Gordius the Martyr. It is a law of nature that bees do not leave their hives before their king leads the flight. Since I have now seen the people of the Lord for the first time going out to the celestial flowers, the martyrs, I seek the leader. Who has stirred this great swarm? Who has transformed the gloom of winter into the brightness of spring? For now, for the first time, the people, as if poured forth from some hives, from the city, have occupied in full force this suburban ornament, this venerable and beautiful stadium of the martyrs. Since the miracle of the martyr has roused and led us as well, forgetful of our weakness, come then, let us also, with a voice according to our ability, buzz around like some flower of the man's deeds, both doing what is holy and pleasing to those present at the same time. For when a righteous man is praised, the peoples will rejoice, as the wise Solomon just now told us. Yet I was at a loss within myself as to what exactly the proverbialist intends by the riddle. Is it that, when some orator or clever speechwriter composes a speech to astonish the hearers, striking their ears with some boastful sound, the peoples rejoice, accepting both the invention of the thoughts and the arrangement and the pomp of the diction beaten into harmony? Or would he who never used such a form of speech ever have said this? Nor would he who everywhere preferred the plainness of diction and the artlessness of speech have urged us to parade boastfully in the encomia of the blessed.

What then is it that he says? That the people rejoice with spiritual joy at the mere remembrance of the achievements of the righteous, being led to zeal and imitation of the good from what they hear. For the history of men of noble conduct, like a kind of light, imparts guidance for the path of life to those who are being saved. Because as soon as we heard the Spirit narrating the life of Moses, immediately a zeal for the man's virtue entered us, and the gentleness of his character appeared to each as enviable and blessed. For other men, their praises are composed from the amplification of words; but for the righteous, the truth of their deeds suffices to show the surpassing quality of their virtue. So, when we narrate the lives of those who have excelled in piety, we first glorify the Master through the servants; we praise the righteous through the testimony of what we know; and we delight the people through the hearing of good things. For the life of Joseph is an exhortation to temperance, and the narratives of Samson are a call to courage. Therefore, the divine school does not know the law of encomia, but considers the testimony of deeds as a substitute for encomia, since it suffices both for the praise of the saints and is self-sufficient for the benefit of those who are impelled toward virtue. For the law of encomia is to investigate the fatherland, to search out the lineage, and to narrate the upbringing; but our law, having silenced the words of the neighbors, fulfills the testimony from the individual's own deeds.

For what am I more honored because of this, if the city once endured noble and great struggles and set up brilliant trophies against its enemies? What if it is favorably situated, being suitable for both winter and summer? And if it is also productive of men and sufficient to raise livestock, what benefit do I derive from these things? But it even rules over the herds of horses under the sun. How then can these things make us better in human virtue? Or, if we recount the peaks of our neighbor's mountains, how they are above the clouds and stand high in the air, will we deceive ourselves into thinking that through these we fulfill the praise of the men? It is the most ridiculous of all, when the whole world has been despised by the righteous, for us to fill their encomia with a few despised things. Therefore, memory suffices for perpetual benefit. For it is not that they need any addition for their good repute, but that memory is necessary for us in life for the sake of imitation. For just as fire naturally gives light, and myrrh naturally gives fragrance, so too does benefit necessarily follow good deeds. Yet this is not a small thing, to accurately attain the truth of those times. For some faint report has been spread to us, preserving the brave deeds of the man in his struggles. And somehow our situation seems to resemble that of painters. For they, when they copy images from images, fall far short of the originals, as is likely; and we, having been deprived of the very sight of the events, are in no small danger of diminishing the truth.

But since the day has come which brings the memory of a martyr, one who contended gloriously in the martyrdoms for Christ, let us say what we know. This man was born from this city, for which reason we love him all the more, because his glory is our own. For just as fruitful plants offer the fruits they have produced to their own soil, so also this man, having sprung from the loins of our own land and having risen to the greatest height of glory, granted to the city that bore and nurtured him the enjoyment of the fruits of his piety. For the fruits from abroad are indeed good, when they are sweet and nourishing; but much sweeter than foreign ones are those that are native and homegrown, for in addition to enjoyment they also bestow upon us a certain ornament through their kinship. He was enrolled in a distinguished military service, entrusted with the command of a hundred soldiers, and he excelled in the military ranks by his bodily strength and courage of soul. But when the tyrant of that time extended the bitterness and savagery of his soul even to war against the Church, and raised a god-fighting hand against piety, and there were proclamations everywhere, and edicts were spread throughout every marketplace and every notable place, that Christ should not be worshipped, or death would be the penalty for those who worshipped him; and there was an order that all should submit to idols, and consider stones and wood shaped by the skill of art to be gods, or that those who did not obey should suffer incurable evils; and there was confusion and turmoil throughout the whole city, and plunderings against the pious.

Property was plundered, the bodies of the Christ-loving were lacerated with blows, women were dragged through the middle of the city; neither pitiable youth nor venerable old age was spared; but those who had done no wrong suffered the lot of criminals, the prisons were crowded, the well-furnished houses were empty, while the desolate places were full of fugitives; the charge for those who suffered these things was piety, and father betrayed son, and son denounced father, brothers raged against one another, and slaves rose up against their own masters; a terrible night had overtaken life, all having lost knowledge of one another through the madness of the devil; houses of prayer were thrown down by unholy hands, altars were overturned, and there was no offering nor incense, no place to sacrifice, but a terrible gloom, like a cloud, held everything; the servants of the divine were driven out, the whole company of piety was scattered, and demons danced, defiling everything with the savor of burnt offerings and blood; then this noble man, anticipating the necessity of the courts, casting off his belt, was an exile, despising power, despising glory, wealth of every kind, kinship, friends,

ng, fleeing the enjoyment of life, all that is eagerly sought after by people, he fled to the deepest and humanly impassable deserts, considering life among beasts more gentle than communion with idolaters, after the pattern of the zealous Elijah, who, when he saw the idolatry of the Sidonian woman prevailing, fled to Mount Horeb and dwelt in the cave, seeking God until he saw the Beloved, as far as it is possible for a human to see God. Such then was Gordius, having escaped political tumults, the crowd of the marketplace, the pretensions of rulers, the courts, the informers, the sellers, the buyers, those swearing oaths, those lying, foul speech, buffoonery, and all the other things which, like appendages, populous cities drag along. Purifying his ears, purifying his eyes, and above all having purified his heart, so that he might be able to see God and become blessed, he saw through revelations, he was taught the mysteries, not from humans nor through humans, but having the great teacher, the Spirit of truth. Hence, coming to an understanding of life as useless, as vain, as more insubstantial than any dream and shadow, he was more vehemently aroused to the desire for the higher calling. And like an athlete, perceiving himself to have been sufficiently trained and anointed for the contest, by means of fasts, vigils, prayers, and the constant and unceasing study of the oracles of the Spirit, having waited for this day, on which the whole city in public festival had seized a theater devoted to a war-loving demon, watching a horse race.

Since the whole populace had gathered above, no Jew was absent, no Greek; and a not inconsiderable multitude of Christians was mingled with them—those living without caution, sitting with the council of vanity, not shunning the gatherings of evildoers, who were also present then as spectators of the horses’ speed and the charioteers’ skill. But masters had released their slaves, and children were running from their schools to the spectacle; women of the common and undistinguished sort were also present. The stadium was full, and all were already intent on watching the contest of the horses. Then that noble man, great in soul, great in spirit, descending from the mountains upon the theater from above, was not daunted by the populace, nor did he consider to how many hostile hands he was delivering himself; but with fearless heart and proud spirit, as if passing by continuous rocks or many trees, he ran past those seated around the stadium, took his stand in the middle, confirming the saying that the righteous man trusts like a lion.

And so fearless was he in soul that, when he stood in the conspicuous part of the theatre, with unshaken boldness he cried out that cry which some who heard it remember to this day: "I was found by those who did not seek me; I became manifest to those who did not ask for me," showing by these words that he was not driven to the dangers by necessity, but willingly gave himself to the contest, imitating the Master, who in the darkness of night, unknown to the Jews, revealed himself to them. Immediately, then, the theatre was turned by the strangeness of the sight: a man with a wild appearance, his head squalid from long dwelling in the mountains, his beard deep, his clothing filthy, his whole body emaciated, carrying a staff and wearing a pouch—yet over all these there shone some grace, illuminating him from within. When, then, it was known who he was, a mixed shout arose from all: those of his own faith clapping in joy, while those warring against the truth urged the judge to put him to death, condemning him in advance to death. Everything, then, was filled with shouting and uproar: horses were disregarded, charioteers were disregarded, and the display of the chariots was mere empty noise. No one

For no eye was free to look at anything else but Gordius, nor did any ear endure to hear anything other than his words. And a kind of indistinct murmur, like a breeze, passing through the whole theatre, overpowered the hippodrome. But when silence was signaled to the people by the heralds, the flutes fell silent, and the many-toned instruments were hushed; Gordius was heard, Gordius was seen. And immediately he was snatched away to the governor, who was sitting somewhere there, presiding over the contest. At first, then, with a gentle and mild voice, he inquired who he was and whence he came. But when he told his fatherland, his lineage, the kind of rank in which he was, the cause of his flight, his return, and that "I am here," he said, "to show in deed both my contempt for your commands and my faith in God, on whom I have set my hope; for I have heard," he says, "that you surpass many in cruelty; so I have chosen this occasion as suitable for the fulfillment of my desire." With these words, having kindled the governor's wrath like fire, he aroused the whole madness of the man against himself. And he says, "Call the executioners. Where are the leaden weights? Where are the scourges? Let him be stretched on the wheel, let him be twisted on the rack, let the instruments of punishment be brought; let the beasts, the fire, the sword, the cross, the pit be prepared.

But what does he gain," says the judge, "the wretch who dies only once?" "What do I lose," Gordius interrupted, "since I am unable to die many times for Christ?" The judge, in addition to his natural savagery, became even more harsh as he looked upon the man's dignity, considering the youthful vigor of his mind a personal dishonor. And the more he saw the heart undaunted, the more he was enraged and the more contentious he became to overcome the man's steadfastness by devising torments. So much for that. But Gordius, looking to God, chanted to his own soul from the holy Psalms, saying: "The Lord is my helper, and I shall not fear what man will do to me," and "I shall not fear evils, for you are with me," and all such kindred exhortations to courage, which he had learned from the divine oracles. Indeed, he was so far from yielding to the threats and cowering that he even challenged the horrors upon himself. "Why do you delay?" he said. "Why do you stand still? Let the body be flayed, let the limbs be twisted; let me be tortured as you wish. Do not begrudge me my blessed hope. For the more you intensify the horrors, the greater the reward you procure for me. These are transactions between us and the Master. In place of the welts rising on the body, a shining garment will bloom for us at the resurrection; in place of dishonor, crowns; in place of prison, paradise; in place of condemnation with criminals, life with angels. Sow much in me so that I may reap manifold." And when they could not capture him with terrors, and the matter was impossible, they changed and began to flatter him.

Such is the contrivance of the devil: he terrifies the coward, but softens the brave. Of such a kind were the artifices of the malefactor on that occasion. For when he saw that he did not yield to threats, he attempted to circumvent him with deceits and enticements. And he promised gifts, and gave some, and guaranteed that others would come from the emperor—distinction in military service, sources of wealth, everything he might desire. But when he failed in his attempt (for upon hearing the promises, the blessed one laughed at his folly, if he thought he could give anything equal to the kingdom of heaven), then he was unbearable in his wrath, and bared his sword, and set the executioner before him, and with hand and tongue defiled by murder, condemned the blessed one to death. And the whole theater moved to that place; and whatever remained of the inhabitants, pouring out before the wall, beheld that great and thrilling spectacle, wondrous to angels and to all creation, painful to the devil, and terrifying to demons. The city was emptied of

The city was emptied of its inhabitants, as if by some torrent, the multitude having suddenly flowed together to this place. No woman deigned to be left out of the spectacle, no man, whether obscure or notable. The guards abandoned their posts at the houses; the merchants' workshops stood open; wares were scattered about the marketplace; and the one guard and security for all was that everyone alike had gone out, and that not even a malefactor remained behind in the city. Slaves left off the service of their masters; and as many as were foreign to the populace, and as many as were native, were present here before the man. Then also a maiden dared to look upon men, and an old man and an invalid forced their weakness, and were outside the wall. Already, as the blessed one was hastening toward life through death, those close to him stood around, embracing him, lamenting and kissing him for the last time; and shedding hot tears over him, they entreated him not to give himself over to the fire, not to waste his youth, not to leave this sweet sun. Others tried to deceive him with persuasive counsels: "Say the denial with your mouth only, but keep the faith in your soul as you wish. Surely God does not attend to the tongue, but to the mind of the speaker. For thus you will both appease the judge and propitiate God." But he was unbending, and unyielding, and invulnerable to every assault of trials. You would have thought the unshakable firmness of his mind like the house of a prudent man, which neither the unbearable force of winds, nor violent rain bursting from clouds, nor torrents breaking around, can shake, because of its security from the rock.

Such was the man, preserving the unshaken foundation of faith in Christ. Seeing with spiritual eyes the devil running about, stirring some to tears, and cooperating with others toward persuasiveness, he said to those weeping the word of the Lord: "Do not weep for me; but weep for the enemies of God, who dare such things against the pious, who through this flame, which they kindle against us, are storing up for themselves the fire of Gehenna. Cease weeping and crushing my heart. For I am ready not only to die once for the name of the Lord Jesus, but even ten thousand times, if it be possible." To those advising denial through speech, he answered only this, that the tongue, created by Christ, cannot bear to utter anything against its creator. For we believe with the heart for righteousness, and we confess with the mouth for salvation. For is the military order not hopeless for salvation? Is there not a pious centurion? I remember the first centurion, who, standing by the cross of Christ, recognizing the power from the miracles, while the audacity of the Jews was still fresh, did not fear their wrath, nor did he shrink from proclaiming the truth, but confessed and did not deny that he was truly the Son of God. I know also another centurion, who recognized the Lord while still in the flesh, that he is God and king of the powers, and by command alone, through the ministering spirits, is able to send aid to those in need.

of him the Lord declared that his faith was greater than that of all Israel. Was not Cornelius, though a centurion, deemed worthy of the vision of the angel, and did he not finally obtain salvation through Peter? For his alms and his prayers were heard by God. I wish to be a disciple of those men. How then shall I deny my God, whom I have worshipped from childhood? Will not the heaven above shudder? Will not the stars grow dark over me, and will the earth sustain me at all? Do not be deceived: God is not mocked. He judges us from our own mouth, he acquits from our words, and he condemns from our words. Have you not read the terrible threat of the Lord? That whoever denies me before men, I also will deny him before my Father in heaven? And for what reason do you advise me to contrive these things? That I may gain something for myself by such a craft? That I may gain a few days? But I will lose an entire eternity. That I may escape the pains of the flesh? But I will not see the good things of the righteous. It is clear madness to perish with craft, to procure for oneself eternal punishment with cunning and deceit. But I also advise you. If you think wrongly, learn piety instead; if you are pretending to suit the occasion, put away falsehood and speak the truth. Say: That Lord Jesus Christ is for the glory of God the Father. For every tongue will utter this voice when every knee, of heavenly, earthly, and subterranean beings, bends in the name of Jesus. All men are mortal, but martyrs are few.

Let us not wait to become corpses, but pass from life to life. Why do you await death that comes of itself? It is fruitless, profitless, common to beasts and humans. For whoever comes into life through birth is either consumed by time, dissolved by disease, or destroyed by the more violent necessities of accidents. Since, then, one must die in any case, let us procure life for ourselves through death. Make voluntary what is compulsory. Do not spare a life of which the loss is inevitable. And yet, even if earthly things had the same permanence, one ought to be eager to exchange them for heavenly things; but if they are both short-lived and so far inferior in worth, it is a terrible folly to fall away from the blessings stored up in hopes by zeal for these things. Having said this, and having traced the form of the cross upon himself, he advanced toward the blow, altering nothing of his complexion, changing nothing of the brightness of his face. For he was disposed not as one about to meet an executioner, but as one about to entrust himself to the hands of angels, who, immediately taking him up fresh-slain, would transfer him to the blessed life, like Lazarus. Who will describe the shout of that people? What thunder from the clouds sent such a sound to the earth as was then sent up from below to heaven? This is the stadium of that victor. This day beheld that wondrous spectacle, which time has not dimmed, nor custom dissolved, nor the excess of later events overcome. For just as we always look upon the sun and always marvel, so we keep the memory of that man always fresh.

For he will be a righteous man in eternal remembrance, both among those on earth, as long as the earth exists, and in the heavens, and before the righteous judge; to whom belong the glory and the power for ever and ever. Amen.