De sancto hieromartyre Babyla

On the Holy Hieromartyr Babylas, I. I wished to repay the debt today, which I promised you when I was here recently. But what can I do? The blessed Babylas appeared in the meantime and called us to himself, not by uttering a voice, but by turning us with the radiance of his countenance. Do not, therefore, be displeased at the postponement of the repayment; assuredly, the longer the time becomes, the more the interest for you increases. For we will pay down this money with interest, since the Master who deposited it commanded thus. Trusting, then, concerning the loan, that both the principal and the profit remain for you, let us not pass by the gain that has fallen in today, but let us take delight in the achievements of the blessed Babylas. How he presided over the Church among us and preserved this sacred ship in storm, billow, and wave, and how much boldness he displayed before the emperor, and how he laid down his life for the sheep and received that blessed slaughter—these and such things we will leave for the older teachers and our common father to tell. For the older matters, those who have grown old among you can narrate well; but what has happened recently, in our own time, these I, the young one, will narrate to you—I mean the things after the death, after the burial of the martyr, when he dwelt in the suburb. And I know that the Greeks will laugh at our promise if we undertake to tell of the brave deeds of one who has been buried and dissolved into dust after death and burial.

We shall not be silent on this account, but for this very reason we shall speak all the more, so that, having shown this paradoxical thing truly, we may turn the laughter back upon their heads. For a mere man, simply, could not accomplish deeds after death; but a martyr could accomplish many and great deeds, not that he himself might become more illustrious—for he has no need of glory from the many—but that you, the unbeliever, may learn that the death of martyrs is not death, but the beginning of a better life and the prelude to a more spiritual existence, and a transition from lesser things to better ones. Do not look at this, that the martyr's body lies bare, bereft of psychic activity; but consider this, that beside the soul itself there abides a greater power, the grace of the Holy Spirit, pleading on behalf of the resurrection for all through the wonders it works. For if God has granted to dead bodies, even those dissolved into dust, a power greater than that of all the living, much more will He grant them a life better than the former, and more blessed, at the time of the crowns. What then are his accomplishments? But do not be disturbed if we lead the discourse a little further back. For those who wish to display images well, having moved the viewers a little away from the panel, thus uncover them, making the sight clearer to them by the distance. Bear with us, then, as we draw the discourse backward.

For when Julian, who surpassed all in impiety, ascended the royal throne and took hold of the imperial scepters, he immediately raised his hands against the God who had made him, and ignored his benefactor, and looking from the earth below toward the heaven, he barked like mad dogs, which cry out alike against those who do not feed them and those who do; rather, he raged with a madness more savage than theirs. For they turn away from and hate both their own and strangers alike; but he fawned upon the demons, who were strangers to his salvation, and served them with every kind of worship; but he turned away from and hated his benefactor and savior, who did not even spare his Only-begotten for his sake, and he mocked the cross—a thing which raised up the world lying prostrate before his eyes, and drove away the darkness from all sides, and brought in a light brighter than the rays for us. And not even there did his madness stop, but he proclaimed that he would snatch the race of the Galileans—for so he was accustomed to call us—from the midst of the world. Yet if he thought the name of Christians was an abomination and the matter full of great shame, why did he not shame us from that name, but desire to shame us with a foreign name? But he clearly knew that being called from kinship with Christ is a great ornament not only for men, but also for angels and the higher powers. For this reason he moved everything, so as to strip us of this ornament and destroy the proclamation.

But this was impossible, wretched and miserable one, just as it was impossible to tear down the sky, to extinguish the sun, and to shake and overthrow the foundations of the earth. And Christ foretold these things, saying thus: "The heaven and the earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away." But you do not tolerate Christ speaking; then accept the testimony of events. For I, having been deemed worthy to know what a decree of God is—how strong and invincible a thing it is, and that it is more trustworthy than natural sequence and the experience of events—have believed this. But you, still crawling on the ground and agitated by the examination of human reasonings, accept the witness of events; I do not contradict or contend. What, then, do events say? Christ said that it is easier for heaven and earth to perish than for any of his words to fall through. The king spoke against these things and threatened to destroy the doctrines. Where, then, is the king who threatened these things? He has perished and been destroyed, and now awaits in Hades the inevitable punishment. Where is Christ, who declared those things? In the heavens, holding the highest throne of glory at the right hand of the Father. Where are the king's blasphemous words and his licentious tongue? They have become ash, dust, and food for worms. Where is Christ's decree? It shines from the truth of events themselves, flashing forth from the outcome of deeds as from a golden pillar. And yet the king left nothing undone at that time, as he was about to raise war against us.

But he also summoned soothsayers and gathered sorcerers, and everything was full of demons and evil spirits. What then were the returns for this service? The overthrow of cities, and a famine more bitter than all famines. For you surely know and remember how the marketplace was empty of wares, while the workshops were full of uproar, each person striving to snatch up whatever appeared and depart. And why do I speak of famine, when even the very springs of water were failing—springs that conceal rivers by the abundance of their flow? But since I have mentioned springs, come now, let us go up to Daphne, and drive the discourse toward the achievements of the martyr. Yet you still desire to parade the shameful deeds of the Greeks; nevertheless, even so, let us proceed—for wherever there is a memory of martyrs, there too is the disgrace of the Greeks. This emperor, then, going up to Daphne, constantly importuned Apollo, begging, supplicating, entreating, so that he might prophesy something about the future for him. What then did the seer, the great god of the Greeks, say? "The dead prevent me from speaking," he said; "but break open the tombs, dig up the bones, remove the dead." What could be more impious than these commands? The demon introduces strange laws of tomb-robbery and devises novel methods of expulsion. Who ever heard of the dead being driven out? Who ever saw lifeless bodies being ordered to move, as he commanded, overturning the common laws of nature from their foundations?

The laws of nature are common to all people: that the departed be hidden in the earth, be given over to burial, and be wrapped in the bosom of the earth, the mother of all. And these laws no Greek, no barbarian, no Scythian, nor anyone more savage than them has ever disturbed; rather, all revere and keep them, and they are so sacred and venerable to all. But the demon, lifting the mask, stands with bare head against the common decrees of nature. "For," he says, "the dead are a pollution." It is not the dead that are a pollution, most wicked demon, but an evil choice is a defilement. And if one must say something remarkable, the bodies of the living are more filled with wickedness than those of the dead; for the former serve the commands of the soul, while the latter lie motionless; and what is motionless and devoid of all sensation would be free from all accusation. Yet I would not even say that the bodies of the living are by nature polluted, but rather that everywhere the evil and perverted choice is liable to the accusations of all. A dead body is not a pollution, Apollo, but pursuing a maiden who wishes to be chaste, digging into the modesty of a virgin, and, having failed in the shameless deed, lamenting—this is worthy of accusation and punishment. Many indeed among us have been wonderful and great prophets, and have foretold many things about the future, and nowhere did they command those who inquired to dig up the bones of the departed.

But Ezekiel, standing near those very bones, was not only not hindered by them, but even clothed them with flesh, sinews, and skin, and brought them back to life. And the great Moses did not stand near the bones of the dead, but carried the whole dead body of Joseph, and in this way foretold the future; and this was quite fitting. For the words of those men were a gift of the Holy Spirit, while the words of these men were deception and falsehood that could not be concealed from any quarter. That this was a pretext and a pretense, and that the king feared the blessed Babylas, is clear from what the king did: he left all the other dead alone and moved only that martyr. And yet, if he had acted out of abhorrence for him, and not out of fear, he would have ordered the coffin to be broken, sunk in the sea, taken to a desert, or destroyed by some other means of annihilation. For that is what one who abhors something does. Thus God acted when he spoke to the Hebrews about the abominations of the nations: he ordered their pillars to be broken, not to bring the pollutions from the suburbs into the cities. 3. So the martyr was moved, but the demon did not enjoy impunity even then; rather, it immediately learned that while it is possible to move the bones of a martyr, it is impossible to escape the hands of a martyr. For at the same time that the coffin was being dragged into the city, a thunderbolt came from above upon the head of the idol and burned everything. And yet, even if not before, then at least at that point it would have been reasonable for the impious king to become angry and to vent his anger on the martyr's shrine; but not even then did he dare.

Such great fear possessed him; but even though he saw the conflagration was unbearable and knew the cause precisely, he kept quiet. And this is not the only remarkable thing—that he did not raze the martyr’s shrine—but that he did not even dare to put a roof back on the temple. For he knew, he knew that the blow was god-sent, and he feared that if he thought of going further, he might call that fire down upon his own head. For this reason he endured seeing the temple of Apollo reduced to such desolation. For there was no other reason why he did not repair what had happened, but only fear, on account of which he unwillingly kept quiet, and this even though he knew how much disgrace he left to the demon and how much honor to the martyr. For the walls now stand as trophies, sending forth a voice clearer than a trumpet, to those in Daphne, to those in the city, to those arriving from afar, to those present, and to all future men, relating everything through sight: the struggle, the conflict, the victory of the martyr. For one who stands far off from the suburb and sees the martyr’s shrine of the saint bereft of its reliquary, and the temple of Apollo stripped of its roof, would naturally seek the cause of each of these things; then, having learned the whole story, would depart from there. Such are the achievements of the martyr, those after his death. Therefore I also bless your city, because you have shown great zeal concerning this saint.

For at that time, when he was returning from Daphne, the whole city poured out onto the road for us, and the marketplaces were empty of men, the houses empty of women, and the bridal chambers deserted of maidens. Thus every age and both sexes of the city rushed out, as if receiving a long-absent father returning from a distant journey. And you gave him back to the choir of the fellow zealots; but the grace of God did not allow him to remain there permanently, but again transferred him across the river, so that many of the places might be filled with the fragrance of the martyr. And when he came here, he was not destined to be alone, but quickly took a neighbor and tent-mate of like character. For he shared with him the same office and displayed equal boldness for the sake of piety. Therefore he obtained the same tent for him, not in vain, as it seems, this wonderful zealot of the martyr. For he labored so much during that time, constantly writing to the emperor, troubling the rulers, and offering the service of his body to the martyr. For you know, of course, and remember, that in summer, when the midday sun held the sky, he walked there every day with those attending him, not only as a spectator but also as a participant in what was happening. For he often took hold of a stone, pulled a rope, and when something needed building, he obeyed before the servants; for he knew, he knew how great the rewards of these things would be for him.

And for this reason he continued to honor the martyrs, not only with splendid buildings or with successive festivals, but with a better method than these. What is this method? He imitates their life, he emulates their courage, he preserves in himself the image of the martyrs in every way as far as possible. For see: They offered their bodies to the slaughter; he mortified the members of the flesh upon the earth. They stood before the flame of fire; he extinguished the flame of desire. They fought against the teeth of wild beasts; but he also subdued the most difficult of our passions, anger. For all these things, let us give thanks to God, that he has granted us both such noble martyrs and shepherds worthy of martyrs, for the perfecting of the saints, for the edification of the body of Christ, with whom to the Father is glory, honor, and power, together with the holy and life-giving Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.