De Laude Martyrii

III. ON THE PRAISE OF MARTYRDOM. Although it is unfitting, most beloved brothers, to introduce any hesitation into this favorable manner of speaking, and it least becomes us to diminish the glory of such great devotion by the fact that I confess I have begun to doubt, yet I say again that the mind itself is shattered by deliberation: for it is inflamed with the desire to deliver praise and is restrained from speaking by the magnitude of the virtue, since it is either not fitting to be silent or it is dangerous to say too little, except that this one thing alone comes to the aid of one who is in such a state of agitation: that it seems he can easily be forgiven who has not feared to dare. For this reason, most beloved brothers, although the power of the subject burdens the capacity of the intellect, so that as much as it has extended itself in expressing the dignity of martyrdom, so much is it oppressed by the very weight of the praise and, weakened and rendered powerless by the estimation of all those things about which it speaks most of all, it becomes ensnared within itself, its speech fails, and it does not, with reins loosened and set free, bring forth into the open eloquence of discourse the force of such great praise; nevertheless, unless I am mistaken, there will be some trustworthiness in speaking which, fortified by the speech of the work itself, will broadly establish what the consciousness, unequal to the task of speaking, holds back.

Therefore, most beloved brothers, since we are entangled in so many and such great matters, and we strive with all zeal and labor to prove the excellent and most beautiful outcomes of salvation, I do not fear being terrified by any cowardice, nor being recalled or extinguished; for if anyone wishes to consider that about which we are treating, having weighed the seat of devotion and pondered its very magnitude, he would rather marvel that one could have dared, in which position I am placed, both the vastness of the matter oppresses me and the fervor of my own vow presses my mind, confused with joy, into the straits of the soul. For who is there whom this matter does not terrify, whom the fear of its own admiration does not overthrow? For indeed, unless I am mistaken, there is even in the very strength of conscience an admirable dread which both agitates and inflames us: the more deeply you examine its power, the more, from the very sight of its venerable brightness, it sends forth the horror of its own religion. For you ought certainly to consider: how great is the glory, to expiate by the remedy of a single blow the stain of filth and the unjustly congealed contagions of a polluted body, however slight, and the crime of the world received over so long a time, whereby both reward can be increased and crime can be excluded. Hence all consummation and the state of life is placed in martyrdom. This is the foundation of life and faith, this the safeguard of salvation, this the bond of liberty and honor: and although there are other means by which light may be attained, yet one arrives at the proximity of the promised reward better through the patronage of punishments.

Consider, therefore, how great is the glory: to be separated from the desires of this life and from all commerce of mind, nature, and world, to set oneself against the peril of an adversary, not to shudder at the savagery of the torturer, for a man to be animated and not to be extinguished by the pain by which he is believed to be destroyed, and to take for himself as an increase of virtue what the punisher thinks serves his torture. For although the claw, rebounding, may return into the wound against the hardening ribs, and although the returning lash, as the strap is drawn back with a torn part of the body, may go forth, yet he stands immovable, stronger than his own punishments, revolving within himself only this: that in that cruelty of the executioners, Christ himself suffers more than he for whom he suffers. For when, if he has denied the Lord, he would undergo the crime for which he ought to have conquered, it is necessary that he who is owed victory from punishment be seen to endure all things. Therefore, since martyrdom is the highest thing, there are three things which we have proposed to be said concerning it: what it is, how great it is, to what end it is useful. What, then, is martyrdom? The end of sins, the limit of peril, the guide of salvation, the teacher of patience, the home of life, by which, when perfected, even those torments die which could have been reckoned as perils in a future trial.

Through this, both testimony is rendered to the name and the majesty of the name is amplified—not because it can be diminished in itself or its greatness broken by the crime of one who draws back, but because it redounds to the summit of glory when the terror of the clamoring populace gives fearless minds to suffering and adds to the title amid the threats of gnashing envy, so that the mind grows as much in the struggle as he who thought to conquer, through whom Christ willed to crown a man. Then, therefore, all the strength of faith is deployed, then credulity is proven, when you come into the talk of the crowd and into reproach, and when you have fortified yourself with a religious mind against those popular frenzies, clearly refuting and resisting whatever profane speech hurls under your person against the injury of Christ: so that, as when a mass set against an adverse sea struggles, though the waves strike and the rolled-back water beats again and again, yet the immovable virtue clings fast and, not overwhelmed by the foaming waves around, does not succumb, until the force, dispersed through the rocks, subsides and the beaten water escapes into the open spaces of the shore, flowing over.

For what is in them but empty speech and vain talk and a depraved pleasure of the mind in words, as it is written: they have eyes and do not see, they have ears and do not hear: their foolish heart is weighed down, lest they ever turn and be saved. For there is no doubt that he said this to all those whose hard mind and always obstinate savagery of breast, put to flight from vital devotion, dissents, with madness leading, frenzy seizing, and finally every inhumanity vexing them, by which they are both goaded and borne along: so that, while their own deeds would suffice for their punishment, the crime of the persecution they stirred up would burden the punishment itself. All this pertains to the praise of martyrdom, all this illuminates the glory of the passion, in which the hope of future time is discerned, in which Christ himself works, whose examples we seek, whose power is that by which we fight back. And because in this place it is opportune to bring forth something, that is indeed the highest and most admirable condescension, which we can neither conceive in mind nor fulfill in words. For what more could he have bestowed upon us with generous piety than that he himself should first show in himself what he would crown in others? He became mortal so that we might be immortal, and he underwent the end of the human lot by whom human affairs are governed: so that he might seem to have granted to us what he suffered, he gave confession, he subjected martyrdoms, finally he bound all things by which light could be suppressed to the salutary remedy of his own birth's merits, with preeminent humility and divine power.

those who have been deemed worthy of this have lacked every worst stain of this world, having lived subject to the condition of death. For there is no doubt how much they obtain from the Lord who have preferred the name of God to their own salvation, so that on that day of judgment their blood would make them better and their own blood would show them to be ∗∗∗. Indeed, death makes life more whole; death leads more to glory. Thus, whenever grain swells with rain in milky stalks, the fruitful harvests are gathered in summer; thus, whenever the vine is cut with iron, it is better clothed with bursting shoots. For whatever profits by its own injury yields to the coming of a future season. For flames have often helped to send in fire so that the heat of a spreading conflagration might open the blind vents of the earth: it has helped to scorch light stubble with crackling fire so that the heavy crop might raise itself higher, and a thicker ear of grain might bloom on the laboring stalks. Therefore, such is the first fall and later the fruit of martyrdom, which condemns life by death so that it may guard life by death.

For what is so exceptional and sublime as to preserve, amid all the instruments of the executioners, the entire virtue of faith with steadfast devotion? What is so great and beautiful as to profess, amid the swords of so many surrounding men, the Lord of one’s own freedom and the author of salvation with a voice repeated often, and especially if you set before your eyes that nothing is more detestable than disgrace, nothing more foul than slavery, that you ought already to seek nothing else, to desire nothing else than to be snatched away from the calamities of the age, to be stripped of the evils of the world, and amid the ruins of a world already on the verge of perishing, to dwell free from earthly contagion? For what have you to do with this light, to whom eternal light is promised? What have you to do with this commerce of life and nature, whom the vastness of heaven claims? Let that desire for living indeed hold fast, but only him whom a raging eternal fire will torture with an inexpiable evil in the ultimate punishment of crimes. Let that desire for living indeed hold fast, but only those for whom both dying is a penalty and enduring is a torment. For you, even the world itself yields and the earth gives way, you who have been reserved for this, while all others die, so that you could have been a martyr. Or do we not daily see deaths? Do we not see new, prolonged ends made, and do we not behold, with raging diseases, the destructions and slaughter of devastated cities from some unfamiliar calamity, whereby we can recognize how great the dignity of martyrdom ought to be held, and so that we may recognize that even a plague has begun to compel us to glory?

For, dearest brothers, I ask you to consider this more fully, wherein both our salvation is at stake and our sublimity is reckoned: although I am not unaware that you also know most fully that the condition of all of us is contained in judgments, and that you are not ignorant that this discipline has been handed down to us, that we should defend the force of so great a name without any terror—indeed, we whom the desire for eternal memory has long since led away from the longing for this light, whom the vows of future things have torn away, and whom the longed-for fellowship of Christ has separated from all vices: if here we succumb to destruction, if we hesitate to offer our soul to death, then the benefits, whose divine reward beyond the ardor of things is so great that human mediocrity can scarcely fulfill it in speech, are no longer to be retained and embraced by us. Heaven lies open to our blood; the abode of Gehenna yields to our blood; and amid all glory, a more beautiful title of blood and a more complete crown are inscribed.

Whenever the soldier enters laden with triumphal spoils from the enemy, he rejoices in his wounds; likewise, whenever the sailor long wearied by storms reaches safe shores, he counts his happiness from the peril he has endured. For indeed, unless I am mistaken, it is a joyful labor through which security is found. Therefore, all things must be borne, all things endured, and one must not seek that by which you may rejoice for a short time and be punished forever by burning. For we must remember that you are bound as if by a certain covenant, from which either the just condition of attaining salvation or the deserved fear of punishment arises: you stand between adversities and prosperities alike, between arms and weapons: on one side worldly ambition urges you, on the other heavenly greatness admonishes you. If you fear losing your salvation, know that you can die. Moreover, death must be despised by you, for whom Christ was killed. Let the examples of the Lord’s promise also come before your eyes, let both the offered rewards and the prepared dangers come before you, and see how great a difficulty each of these things has between them. For you will not be able to confess unless you know how much you harm yourself if you deny. Martyrs rejoice in heaven, fire will consume the enemies of truth. Paradise blooms for God’s witnesses, hell embraces deniers, and eternal fire blazes.

And to say nothing of the rest, this ought especially to encourage us, that the confession of a single voice of Christ is preserved by perpetual confession, as it is written: "He who has confessed me on earth before men, I also will confess him before my Father and before his angels." Further adornments of virtues add to the crown of glory. For it says: "They will also shine like sparks running through a reed-bed, they will judge nations and rule over peoples." Great indeed is the glory, dearest brothers, to adorn the life of eternal salvation with eternal passion, great the sublimity before the face of the Lord and the sight of Christ to despise the greatest torments with supreme power and not to shudder. Thus Daniel overcame the threats of the king and the rage of roaring lions through the substance of his faith, believing that no one else was to be worshipped but God. Thus in the furnace, the fire burned within the boys placed there, while they endured the righteous flames, fearing what they did from belief in the Lord concerning hell. Whence they also brought back worthy rewards, not dragged off to a later time, not reserved for the prize of eternal salvation. God saw their faith, so that what they had promised to themselves after death, they merited to live in the body. For it cannot be estimated how great a reward was granted in the present. If there was cruelty, it yielded; if there was flame, it subsided. For there was one mind in all, which neither violence could break nor anger overthrow nor fear of death hinder from the service of devotion.

whereby through the grace of the Lord it came about that in them the king seemed rather to have been punished, while those whom he believed he had killed escaped. Now I shall come, dearest brothers, to that matter by which I can sufficiently show how great the power of martyrdom is: which, although it is known to all and to be sought after for the marks of its innate glory, yet the necessity of the time has added more to the desire for pleasure. For it is a great gift if someone is crowned at that time when he thinks himself crowned, if he should happen to die. Therefore, since martyrdom is sublime and exalted, is it not more necessary when the world itself is overturned and, with the orb partly shaken, a failing nature testifies to the monuments of the final end? For also when rain presses upon the sky, the sad air extends rains, and whenever a black tempest threatens the shuddering sea, through the open gaps of the clouds the flashing lightning gleams beforehand: but also when the sea rolls with great waves, gradually the wave lifts itself and gradually the surface whitens, until you see it afterwards rush so that on the rocks against which it is dashed the foam lies higher than the wave that the swollen sea was spewing out. It is written that we must pay even the last farthing. But this thing has been taken away from the martyrs. For those who, relying on the desires of eternal salvation, have overcome the desires of life, the promises of the Lord have made all of them inexperienced in pain.

Therefore, first of all, dearest brothers, we will be able to consider how great a power martyrdom can fulfill. And to pass over everything, we must remember how great is the glory of coming to the immaculate Christ, of being a partner in the passion and reigning with the Lord in perpetual eternity, of being free from the disasters of the impending age and not being mingled in the common lot with the rest amid the bloody devastation of ravaging diseases. And to say nothing of the crown, if in these slippery evils of nature, placed as you are, an end of life were promised you, would you not rejoice with all your mind? If a nearby rest summoned you, tossing as you are in the whirlwinds of this world, would you not count death as a remedy? Placed among the arms of executioners and the weapons of examining tortures, stand sublime and strong, considering how great a punishment it is to deny at that time when you cannot enjoy the world, for whose sake you would have denied, since indeed the Lord knew that severe tortures and harmful arts of punishment were being armed for our destruction, in order to make us strong for all endurance. "Son," he says, "approaching the service of God, stand in justice and fear, and prepare your soul for temptation." But also the most blessed apostle Paul cried out and says: "For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.

Therefore, dearest brothers, with firm faith and robust devotion, we must resist with adverse strength against all the fierce and harsh roars of the persecutors of this world, and not be afraid, for those whose hope is eternity and whose life is celestial, and whose ardor is kindled by the desire for light, and whose salvation rejoices in promised immortality. But this—that hands are bound by constricting chains, and heavy fetters placed around the neck press down with solid weight, or that the body stretched on the rack hisses against the glowing plates—is not a matter of seeking blood but of testing. For how could we recognize the dignity of martyrdom itself unless we were compelled to desire it even with the loss of our own body? I have felt, and truth does not deceive me, that when the savage hands of the attackers tore apart the limbs and the raging torturer furrowed the lacerated joints yet did not conquer, the words of the bystanders were: 'This is great,' they say, 'something indeed, not to be subdued by pains, not to be broken by pressing torments.' But there were other voices of those saying: 'And I think he has children. For he has a spouse in his household, and yet he neither yields to the bond of his offspring nor, drawn away by the duty of affection, does he fail from his purpose.' The matter must be known, virtue must be deeply probed in the entrails. For this confession, whatever it is, for which a man suffers, is not easy, and it is possible to die.

For indeed, dearest brothers, such is the power of martyrdom that through it even the one who wished to kill you is compelled to believe. It is written and we read: "In pain endure and in your humility have patience, because gold and silver are tested by fire." Therefore, since the Lord tests us with earthly temptations and Christ examines and weighs us through the evils of this age, we ought to rejoice and be glad that He does not reserve us for those everlasting destructions, but rejoices that we are cleansed from every contagion. As for those whom He summons as participants in His inheritance and willingly takes up into the kingdoms of heaven, what else indeed does He seek but the compass of integrity? He Himself fashioned all things—both those that spread out over the lying plains and those that rise up into sloping hills, and what the magnitude of the sky encompasses and the slippery plain which the flowing sea encloses. If all things lie before Him and He demands from us nothing except sincere deeds, we ought to be like gold, as He Himself said. For gold, when you see it with a trembling splendor under the light of dew among the shining lands and it is dissolved into liquid by raging flames—but (for the grace of the craftsman is nearly thus) whenever the seething fire is belched forth from panting furnaces, the rich flame is drawn out through the narrow channel of the earth's entrance, and the sand is held back by the flowing clods.

Hence it is necessary to endure all things, so that we may be free from every crime, just as He said through His prophet: "And even if they have suffered torments before men, yet their hope is full of immortality, and those troubled for a short time will be well arranged in many things, because God has tested them and found them worthy of Himself, and has accepted them as a burnt offering." But if ambitious dignity deters you, and the magnitude of wealth amassed in treasuries admonishes you—which always turns aside the purpose of a good mind and drives a soul devoted to its Lord with a furious honor—I ask you to recall the heavenly words. For there is also that voice of Christ saying: "He who loses his soul for my name will receive in this world a hundredfold and in the future will have eternal life." Than this, surely, we ought to count nothing greater, nothing more fitting, nothing more useful. For although, in the manner of precious garments, purple runs into images and gold wanders with softening threads into a semblance, nor do the heavy metals of a dug-up treasure on which you recline fail you: these things, unless I am mistaken, will be counted empty and vain, if, with all things lying before you, only salvation seems to be lacking, as the Holy Spirit says that we can give nothing in exchange for our soul. For He says: "If you gain the whole world and lose your soul, what will it profit you, or what exchange can a man give for his soul?

For all things that we see are empty, and those placed on weak roots cannot sustain the force of their own solidity. For what is taken from the world is frustrated by the passage of time. Hence, lest anything be sweet or dear or capable of being preferred to the desires of eternal salvation, these things have been cut off by the Lord's precepts and deprived of their own right and law: so that, of course, in torments a son would not break his father, nor a brother his brother, nor would a heart bound with hardened strength be changed into another will by some affection. Christ established by His own right that only truth and only salvation are to be embraced amid great torments, in which wife, children, and grandchildren, in which every offspring of the flesh, is to be seized in a blessed victory. For Abraham also pleased God in this way, who, when tested by the Lord, did not spare his son: for which he might perhaps have been forgiven if he had hesitated to kill him. Religious devotion armed his hands, and paternal piety neglected all the commands of the Lord who orders all piety. He did not shrink from shedding his son's blood, nor did he tremble at the voice, and yet Christ had not yet been killed for him. For what is dearer than He who, lest you suffer anything unwillingly today, first suffered what He would teach? What is sweeter than He who, though He is our God and Lord, nevertheless makes the man who suffers for Him a co-heir of the heavenly kingdom?

Oh, some great thing—whether because the mind’s reason can scarcely bear to keep it away, so that it always marvels at great gifts, or because the majesty of God is so bountiful that, to all who do not hope for it, it even offers those things which, in contemplation of His deeds, it would have been wrong for us to wish for. For if only eternal salvation were given, we would be held in gratitude for the very perpetuity of living. But now, when heaven and the power of judgment over the rest are bestowed for an everlasting age, what is there in which human mediocrity can test its hope against all these things? If you are driven by injuries, that is the prior act. If you are oppressed by insults, you imitate the gift of God. Hence, whatever you endure for Him is too little, since you can do nothing more, except that in this all salvation consists, because He promised everything through martyrdom. Finally, the apostle, to whom all things were always dear, when he deeply marveled at the likeness of the promised gifts, says: “I consider,” he says, “that the sufferings of this time are not worthy of the coming glory that will be revealed in us.” For he turned over in his mind how great the reward would be, that to him for whom it would suffice to lack death, not only the prize of salvation would be given, but also the ascent to heaven—heaven which neither banished light forces into night, nor does day open by alternating turns into light, but the serene mildness of liquid air, through a clear sky, unfolds a pure brightness gleaming with fiery radiance.

Now it remains, dearest brothers, that we must show for what purpose martyrdom is beneficial. And indeed let us teach that which drives us to this title of glory: fear of future things. For those to whom great things are promised, the things that seem to be feared by them are even greater. For a soldier does not arm himself before the enemy’s hostile weapons have been stirred. Nor does anyone bring a ship out of its station unless the terror of the sea has gripped his mind. But also the careful farmer, intent on his resources, does not stir the fertile soil with the plowshare before the crumbling clod, having received rain, is loosened into dust. Such is every natural practice: not to know what benefits unless you have recognized what destroys. Hence reward is given to all the saints while torments of deeds are inflicted upon the unjust. Therefore, what the Lord has promised to his own, no one is ignorant of, nor is there doubt about how many he threatens. And since the discourse has brought itself to the point that account is taken of both, I will briefly set forth, as I said, concerning both.

The seething place, Gehenna by name, murmurs with the great groan of those who lament, and through the dreadful night of thick darkness, with belching flames, the smoking fires of the furnace always new breathe out, a mass of fire is compressed and confined, and is released into various forms of punishment. Then many kinds of savagery, when it rolls back upon itself whatever of emitted heat the devouring flame has tormented. For those who have refused the voice of the Lord and whose commands were held in contempt, it restrains them with unequal forms of destruction: and in proportion to the merit of the exacted salvation, it supplies its own forces, while it imposes a penalty equal to the crime. And some indeed a vast, unbearable weight bends down, others a fierce force hurls headlong down the steep hill of a sloping path, and the heavy weight of the bond of clanking chains inclines them. There are also those whom a wheel, driving tightly and with unceasing rotation, and those whom, packed together in a dense mass, body clings to body, so that the fire consumes, the iron weighs down, and the crowd of many tortures itself.

For those, however, to whom God was always sought or known, the place of Christ never falls away, where grace lies, where the earth, luxuriant with verdant fields, clothes itself with its nursling grass and feeds on fragrant flowers, where tall groves are raised to a summit and where the denser foliage of the trees clothes whatever the drooping branches have shaded with a hanging canopy. There, all things are free from cold or heat, nor do the fields rest in autumn, nor does the earth again bring forth fertile in a new spring. All things are of one season, the fruits of one summer are borne: indeed, because then the moon does not fail in its months, nor does the sun run through the hours of its moments, nor does light, put to flight, yield to night. A joyful peace has its peoples, a calm abode holds them, where a gushing spring emerges in the midst of a bursting riverbed and glides with a hoarse circuit at intervals in winding bends, so that it divides itself at the mouths of its own nascent rivers. Hence, therefore, the great praise of the martyrs, hence the noble crown of the victors, to whom greater things than these are promised, to whom higher rewards are given. But that the body is either exposed to beasts or the imminent sword is not feared, the reason for the honor is shown, the choice is made manifest. For it was unfitting that those whom it had judged worthy of so great a gift should be retained among earthly vices and filth.

Rightly, then, is nothing denied to us, O blessed martyrs, whom the hope of eternity and the salvation of light await, and whose entire devotion is heavenly and whose mind is seen to be dedicated to service: rightly, I say, rightly is nothing unlawful for you to wish, whose soul has despised this world and to whom the alienated face of the age has shuddered as if in the blindness of confused darkness: to whom this world has always been a place of prison, roofs for bars, with passage always unwelcome. Thus, indeed, does a triumphant victory snatch from these evils one whom vain ambition has not subjected with pompous step or popular acclaim has exalted, but whom Christ, burning with heavenly desire, has added to his kingdom. Nothing, therefore, is so great and so venerable as that which frees from death and makes one live and grants one to reign forever. This is fitting for the saints of God, necessary for the wretched, welcome to all, whereby the good rejoice, the abject are relieved, the elect are healed. For indeed, God, the cultivator of all, gave a kind of remedy of life in martyrdom, when he granted it to some according to their merit, and handed it over to others out of his mercy. For we see that many have come to this title of name, noble in faith, so that death might honor the obedience of devotion. But we have also often seen others stand undaunted, so that, redeeming the sin they had committed with their blood, they would be considered washed in blood and would come to life again, slain, who while living were counted as dead. For death makes life more whole; death finds glory that was lost.

For this hope, once lost, is regained; all salvation is restored. Thus, when the seeds have failed the plowmen and the earth has burned with dying grasses, they have been able to draw a river from the sloping hills and, with gushing streams, to temper the thirsty fields, so that the land’s barrenness might pour itself into rich stalks and the denser crop might bristle with a feigned rain. What, then, most beloved brothers, should I chiefly relate or say? Thus, with the titles of dignity coming together into one, the mind is troubled, the sense is led astray, and in the very effort of striving eloquence, the unequal speech fades away. For what can be said that might suffice, since if you have expressed the power of eternal salvation, ambition confronts you; if you have spoken of ambition, greatness anticipates you? The things coincide and concur at once, and there is nothing that seems worthy to be set forth. Thus the bold impetus of speech, as if entangled and ensnared, has been held back by the examples of martyrdom meeting it from the opposite side. What voice, what lungs, what strength can grasp and sustain the burden of such a gift? By the confession of a single voice, adversities succumb, joys come forth, kingdoms lie open, empires are prepared, punishments are overcome, death is subdued, life is brought forth, and the hostile weapons of the attacking enemy are undone. If it is a sin, it dies; if a crime, it ceases. Therefore, I ask you, weigh this in your minds, and receive from our speech only as much as you know you are able to perceive.

Let come before your eyes what that day is like, when, with the people looking on and all watching, against the earthly crosses and the threats of the age, unshaken devotion struggles; how anxious minds and troubled spirits, rejoicing from wavering trepidation, are shaken by the horror of fearful dread; what anxiety is there, what longing for prayers, what vows are recalled, when victory still wavers and the outcome of the case is uncertain, the victor’s crown hangs over the head; and when that pestilent and raging assembly is kindled with anger, inflamed with madness, and finally scorched with every passion of the breast and with gnashing threats. For who does not know how great this is: that not by the pains of wounds, not by the blows of tortures—as though our despised fragility and the unexpected audacity of human strength gave way—a man stands and does not move, is tortured yet not conquered, but is rather armed by the very punishment by which he is tormented.

Consider, therefore, what it is, dearest brothers, to set before your senses and minds the entire dignity of martyrdom. For behold, in the passion of any summoned one, the martyrs already called from the world rejoice, the messengers of all good things rejoice, the elect likewise rejoice. There the Lord rejoices in His soldier, Christ rejoices in the witness of His name. It is little that I say, dearest brothers, it is little. So great a reason in this kind of speech and so admirable a mass has been undertaken by me: but I beg you, let the gravity of your judgment not fail from its own intention, knowing that only so much can be said about martyrdom as can be estimated. Hence this alone was the cause for carrying out the praise, not that I judged myself equal and suitable to its glory, but because I discerned such great virtue therein, that even if I said little about it, I would profess that I had said much. For although guarded justice may be preferred to the good of faith, and immaculate virginity may recognize itself as better among all praises, yet all things must yield to martyrdom and submit to blood and gore. They chose the good; these imitated Christ.

Now, dearest brothers, lest anyone think that I have placed all salvation in no other state than martyrdom, first of all consider this: that I am not the only one who seems to speak, nor does the order of things hold itself such that the hope of immortality promised should lurk in only one part. But since the Lord Himself testified with His own mouth that there are many dwellings with the Father, I have believed nothing greater than that glory by which men are tested here who are unworthy of worldly life. Therefore, dearest brothers, striving with emulous devotion, as if driven by some incentive of reward, let us undertake all our strength and endurance. For things that are fleeting and that are already, by their own ruin, urged not only by the law set forth but also by the very end of time, ought not to move us. John cries out and says: the axe is already placed at the root of the tree, showing and pointing out that this is the final old age of all things. And the Lord Himself says: Walk while you have light, lest the darkness overtake you. And if He foretold that we must walk at that time, He certainly showed that we should walk all the more.

And to return to the praise of martyrdom, it is the voice of the most blessed Paul saying: Do you not know that those who run in the contest, many contend and one receives the palm? But you should run in such a way that all are crowned. And elsewhere, to be able to exhort to martyrdom, he called us co-heirs of Christ. Moreover, lest he omit anything, he says: If you have died together with Christ, why do you decide as if living in this world? Therefore, dearest brothers, we who await the rewards of resurrection, who seek the day of judgment, who finally trust that we will reign with Christ, ought to be dead to the world. For you will not be able to desire martyrdom unless you first hate the world, nor attain the reward of God unless you have loved Christ. But he who loves Christ does not love the world. For Christ was rejected by the world, just as the world was by Christ, so that it is written: The world is crucified to me, and I to the world. No one found the world lovable whom the Lord had not first condemned, nor could he enjoy eternal salvation who gloried in the life of the world. This is the voice of Christ saying: He who in this world has loved his soul will lose it in the future; but he who in the world has hated it will find it in the future. And the apostle Paul says: Be imitators of me, just as I am of Christ. And elsewhere he himself says: I want you, if it is possible, all to be my imitators.

He said this, he who suffered, and because he suffered in order to imitate God, surely he also wished us to suffer, so that through him we might imitate Christ. If you are just and believe in God, why do you fear to shed your blood for him, whom you know suffered so often for you? He was cut in Isaiah, slain in Abel, sacrificed in Isaac, sold in Joseph, crucified in a man; and I pass over the rest in silence, which neither speech can utter nor the mind endure. The conscience is overcome by the example of humility, and when it considers what happened while he suffered, it marvels that he suffered for whose sake all things trembled. Day fled into night, light yielded all to darkness, and with the weight shifting in alternate turns, the whole earth was shaken and split apart; the shades were disturbed, tombs were laid bare, and with sepulchers gaping open, bodies restored to the light stood forth from the earth; the world shuddered with a flow of blood; the veils hanging from the doors were rent, the whole temple groaned. Hence it is a great thing to imitate him who, by dying, condemned the world. Therefore, when you set down your life for the example of the Lord’s passion and for every testimony of Christ, and do not fear to shed your blood, everything must yield to martyrdom. The glory of martyrdom is inestimable, its measure infinite, its victory immaculate, its virtue noble, its title beyond price, its triumph immense—indeed, because he who is preferred by the praise of his own steadfastness is adorned with the blood of Christ as a companion.

Therefore, dearest brothers, although this is entirely a matter of the Lord’s promise and gift, and although it is granted from on high and can be received only by his command, and although it can neither be conceived in the mind nor expressed in words nor traversed in speech nor fulfilled by any powers of eloquence, nevertheless it will be for your goodwill, it will be for your charity and love, if you wish us to be remembered when the Lord begins to honor martyrdom within you. Within itself, that holy altar, within itself, that great seat of the venerable name, embraces you like a certain bosom of a welcoming lap; the empires of eternal time sustain you, and that which you are always to rule and to live. O blessed ones, and those whose sins are truly forgiven, if indeed you who are companions of Christ have ever sinned. O blessed ones, whom the blood of the Lord has stained from the beginning of the world, and whom this splendor of snowy raiment has rightly clothed and the whiteness of the encircling stole has adorned. Finally, I seem to myself already to see, and according to the judgment of the human mind, before my eyes and sight, that divine thing and that distinction rushes to me: I seem, I say, already to see how that true noble number accompanies the glory and path of its Christ. Before his face, the happy throng of victors will go, and with the crowding masses, like the rising of the sun, it will bring forth the whole illuminated host of power. And would that it might someday be granted to me, utterly abject, to see this; but the Lord will be able to bring about what, with you praying, he is believed not to deny.