De Martyrio Maccabeorum

HILARY ON THE MARTYRDOM OF THE MACCABEES. There was once a king, Antiochus, the wealthiest of Syria, in whose kingdom a mother and her seven sons were born, as fame relates, created from a holy people. A constant care bade them remember their lineage and serve the law that was given: for thus the willing from the better people held fast to God’s own laws. The king, eager to change their faith, wished to change the fear of the righteous, to mingle them with a wicked people. He promises rewards to the mother; he promises gold, and whatever he could gather from the whole kingdom, if only she would change her former ways and thoughts, and compel her sons to fashion other habits for themselves. She refused, and pressed a silent grief deep in her heart. After no bribe could compel her, he first tried to conquer her with savage tortures; she endured heavy groans and did not fear the king’s harsh scourges. When he saw himself defeated, he said: “Alas, what shall I do? A woman conquers a king? Yet you will not escape: what is worse, you will suffer bitterly.

She raised her hand, looked up at the high heavens, and with a groan spoke these words: "You may hand over treasures and kingdoms, tyrant, but we are not taken by the gifts of kings, nor will the promises of God be snatched away from the saints. That hope is more certain, which promises us life in the long time to come: I follow this, I have learned this, not to touch slippery gifts; it is easy to take riches and to lose life. But even if you threaten flames after savage beatings, you can change nothing of what we began in our earliest years. With virtue, along with the law given to me, it is certain that I will conquer. What now, cruel one, do you command? What, harsh one, do you threaten my children? You will be able to disturb a mother only with this grief. For I have God as my hope; I have care for my own, through which I hope indeed that you can conquer no one. O heavens, I pray, favor the divine power, because we ask just things." King Antiochus rages, shaken in the tumult of his heart, he shakes and shows his savage face with his gaze, and marvels long that a woman could do so much. "Obey, soldier, go!" he says; "also obey, servant, the king; you servants, obey me! Give worthy tortures to the raging female evil; a woman forces me, raging, to serve: what is more, a woman conquers the commands of her own king! But she has not spoken with impunity:

I will destroy limb by limb the seven treacherous sons whom she holds within her; the one who is considered first, let him perish first; destroy all in order thus, place them on racks, burn them with flames applied beneath, so that she herself, their harsh mother, may see her own sons. But this punishment remains; let the swift ministers be ready." Meanwhile, the fertile parent, with hair already loosened, stood and, like one exhorting, with breast already bared, extending the breasts, the nourishment of her sons, she opens herself, not confused, and when she saw her son at the fire, proceeding brave with steady step, she said: "You are my offspring, you first, look at your mother. You are certainly mine: now remember our bond, son! I bore you first, now imitate your parent: take up my ways and conquer the king by silence. You will be able to endure long, if you conquer the times: let the treacherous violence of the king not overcome the saints, use your mother's counsel, and you will not fear losses. Be stronger than bronze and more powerful than rock itself; enter as a youth, patiently conquer the pains." He, turning his face now toward his mother, now raising it to the heights, and while he is silent and silently asks, whom he owes, and prays, he did not feel the swift fires beneath the applied racks. His empty body flows; the mother rejoices in the pain. And she said: "I have conquered: may I conquer thus more often, I pray; may the virtue of my sons, unknown to the king, endure, but now known to God, who knows the hearts of the people." She had finished the pain of the first birth of her fertile offspring.

But with fear remaining, the mother was anxious for the many; yet she dissembles, lest joy touch the king. King Antiochus is stunned and does not believe that those who follow can be overcome by a similar kind of punishment with the same sensibility. He orders what was begun to be completed; the mother remained unafraid; but when she saw her pale son standing near, she, turning these things over in her mind, is already partly relieved: "Behold, a second age of childbearing is brought forth for me: how like his brother's form! If in your breast you are hard and follow the footsteps of my first offspring, you can be mine; you can recover the salvation which your brother already has, having followed your mother's precepts. Put aside fear, and despise the raging threats of the king and the kingdoms, to which fleeting times are given in haste. After this, that king will not be able to harm you; but after this, son, you will be able to harm the king. Behold, you are forced to ascend the light fires of time! This is a place for virtue: put aside your faltering fear; be mindful of our lineage, if feeling clings to you. This one who holds the scepter, who rages in his kingdom, in this he agitates an empty time with his reign, and will lack life, and, condemned as guilty, will feel eternal fires: you will be secure, with a crowd of the pious accompanying you. Look, son, at my face and look up to the sky and to God the author, through whom life is prepared for you. Do better, and tread in the footsteps of your brother: I hear not what that one orders, but what God commands." As he was admonished, to see his mother and the sky,

She stood firm and with a cheerful countenance began to despise the king, and, as if laughing, rushed into the burning fires, and, having collapsed and lying there, with her spirit prevailing, she rested. When the mother saw this, she spoke with a stern face thus: "I am happy in part: now you cannot conquer all, savage tyrant, by torturing my sons. A heavier punishment soon awaits you, cruel and unjust one; you will suffer it shortly; for God sees all these things." Now two remained, secure, having despised the king; the mother's hope was better: now behold, the third place of punishment presses: if it is punishment to conquer the king, and to serve God, it is praise, not the punishment of a madman. The third youth is dragged forward, the tyrant gnashing his teeth, who was not yet sated; fury within and anger raged equally. He had seen the brave hearts of the brothers fearlessly overcome the king's madness. The youth stood before his feet in the flower of his years, outstanding in form, worthy to hold kingdoms, worthier than Antiochus. And thus, following better things, kingdoms, by the will of God. The mother speaks thus to him: "Take, my son, secure, the words of your parent; take them, lest sluggishness destroy the honors of virtue. Your brothers are already with you, abiding in the seat of piety, in a better place than the fleeting kingdoms of the king. If you touch their own feelings in your heart, you will be borne as a victor among the peoples for having conquered the king. Just as fame has already sent your brothers into all things. Approach these, I beg; these are the most fitting gifts.

She had considered it a crime to despise and to abandon the king’s laws, untamed, whom no pleasure awaits after these things.” But the young man sent forth words in a silent murmur; like one praying, he stretched his palms upward and, with knee bent, hung upon his mother’s face, where, though the crowd pressed the body, it was permitted by her gaze. As soon as he was admonished, he mounted the gridiron, and in the fire, fearless and with sure faith, he placed his limbs. The flames subsided, the ash remaining tepid, and the unharmed body was received by the opened earth, while the holy soul departed inviolate to the heavens. But the mother, hesitating whether to take up groans or joys, wavered and spoke thus in a plaintive speech: “What now, cruel one, do you prepare? We will all obey your commands. But count the offspring, lest the guardian steal any away! And, even if you yourself wish it, I will not suffer, tyrant, that not all my sons perish in this contest. This is your time’s dreadful penalty, and the same harsh sentence for the condemned sons, even if you should change it. If you think there are heavier penalties, if there are heavier, threaten them! Why, when you see my face, are you seized with horror? We rejoice equally, whenever you decree against these.” But the king himself burns the more, driven by mad rage, and thinks he is being tested, lest, like the rest of the band of brothers, he bear the penalties, and he senses that the mother seeks this. He hardens himself for destruction, and soon wished to condemn a fourth son to punishment; for the wearied attendants could bear neither the king’s furies nor the king himself.

For shame! His face blushed to show itself to his mother, and he began to confound her with his astonished mind. After she saw him standing with downcast eyes, she approached the fearful one with such words of warning: "You are the fourth from my firstborn, my fourth child. What words now can I say to you, my son, except this: that hardened power may be with you, and virtue, and the author of holy origin? To him we owe whatever we deny to the king; he gave us Abraham with his holy seed, through whom nobility, through whom every race is proven, which remains holy in the Lord; because Isaac is born then, when old age could hope for no child born of its own accord, since Sarah remained barren. Yet she gave birth, and with the beginning of the family's lineage, grandchildren remain for you, Sarah, unexpectedly: Esau and Jacob, descended from his native origin. We know that Rebecca gave birth to them as twins. From here we come, from here we die; this lineage, my son, you must seek. Open the way for yourself and yield to your parent and to the ancestors, whose progeny, scattered throughout the whole world, suffers envy because it alone worships the powerful Lord in its mind, not mingling with the wicked crowd. What is it to you with a sad face? Why do you keep your eyes fixed on the ground? Look rather at the sky and the parent of the sky! Do not doubt: your mother shows you favorable things.

Whatever is present, endure patiently; bravely accompany my throng, my son, and urge on the following number." Thus the beloved mother, mingling grief and joy, had finished her clear warnings: then he himself lifts the orbs of his eyes and begins to gaze intently at his mother. Bearing nothing sad now in his bearing and expression, he confesses that he had feared nothing except the sad wounds of his mother divided through her births. And so, slipping from the hands of the one holding him, he hastens in a rush into the fires. I shall speak of wonders: the flame did not touch his hair, did not touch his face; his body, as if lifeless, had overcome the flames and fires, with mouth open, yet silent, where the spirit would go, whence it had been received, it fled together with his blood. The mother rejoiced at this very thing, that he who had just stood with a sad expression, soon trusting with his whole heart, had obeyed her warnings and scorned the king's anger. Yet she began thus, when the king hesitated against those who remained, and the pious crowd gave groans to the ministers, cursing the king, complaining in silent speech: "Drag it out; why do you hesitate? You must spare no one now. Nor can you, even if you wish: do not break the decree. I appeal to the king who rules the whole world, to whom the sea, to whom the sky, to whom the stars of the sky are subject, that unless you proceed, there is fear. Now you linger sluggishly, now you feel what kingdoms she seeks, what glory remains for us in either part, if you now refuse to spare.

For all whom you ordered to depart from your kingdom, with savagery accompanying them, they conquered your fury—indeed, your fury—and they remain joyful in the abode of the pious. Do you perhaps think this is death, raging tyrant? It is a life longer and more powerful than that kingdom of yours, which you rule and in whose farthest corner you linger. If you also fear these, the younger ones surpass them. Despised together, they conquered your realms, proud one. But carry out your command and do not divide our children: give these also to the flames and use the forces of your kingdom. Yet you are mortal, and you will not hold your kingdom forever! Antiochus conceives furies, and the savage tyrant seethes and rolls groans within his breast. Grief agrees with his mind, and saddened, he lifts his heavy countenance and speaks such words: "This freedom of yours and harsh power of your tongue, and this stiffness which you carry with swollen neck—it will feel what the times of an angry king can do. If you are not yet sated with evils and you try to feign joy and turn your griefs into celebrations, I will not change the death; rejoice, be glad, triumph—provided that you conquer in such a way that you are the last of your own. Does she thus rejoice in madness at the funeral of her children? I give these also to the flames; no power can change this; the decrees remain—rejoice, survivor, bereft of your children. And lest my orders be delayed, let their own course proceed. Bring forth the son.

Lest the fires perish in vain, or the king be able to appear doubtful. Certainly, I have no fear of a woman." You, a foremost youth from your people, wondrous in face and form, in whose breast virtue remains steadfast—even this king you could have conquered. To him the mother spoke with a calm voice thus: "If it were permitted for you, my son, to give embraces to your mother, I confess, after the wounds, my son, I would have given them only to you; but the harsh and sad power of the king forbids me. Let him deny embraces, as long as we have free speech and it is permitted to remember God and to hold the law—not given by a king, but which God, the arbiter of the world and ruler of the universe, handed down, and which Moses sought and received and gave to the people. To whom the greatest praise is to know God, to whom we owe the honor we merit. Do not hesitate, my son, to obey your parent's warnings. Let there be vigor and virtue, and let your mind, already full of God, remain deep in your whole heart: let your age be stronger than the king hoped to be when he commanded you to be overcome. O how great is virtue, how great is the confidence of the brave! But now do not hesitate to conquer the midst of the flames: you will be victor, believe me, my son, and you will return victor. Bones and strong sinews will mingle bodies; they will return saved souls again into new flesh. But lest, perhaps, the swift fire terrify you, take up the spirits of your brothers and invoke the eternal divinity." He does what is ordered, and silently he calls upon God as witness and prays with whatever murmur he could. His age does not hinder the boy; he did not fear the exposed gridiron, and to his willing mother...

He obeyed, and quicker than speech rushed upon the fires. The flames gave way, all pain gave way, and body and fire were one: the body had overcome the fire, but the spirit had first overcome the gentle breezes. The mother rejoices, but grieves in silence; with suppressed sorrow she turns her sadness and mourning into joy. Meanwhile she trembles and turns over cares in her heart, not about the past, but about the boyish years: those who survive, lest they deny; lest they conceive fear in their minds, and prefer to kindle the king. The younger the age, the greater the fear; anxiously she leads her cares, alas, with her: and now hope and fear together struggle and run through the vitals of the pious mother. Yet hope is greater, since she saw her son advance, and from afar exulting: "I see what hope can bring me in this one: this one too ought to recognize our faces, to obey the number of his brothers. Perhaps only this one may be touched by boyish hearts and bear it indignantly that he is given up like a victim. I will address him and try to speak a few words. Let him remember that he is of the race, rather than of this time. 'If nobility touches you, if origin touches you, look back, son, at your own; look back, son, at Israel too. Do not count your years, boy; begin to bear God with a strong heart. The ages will hand down to the ages what your strong age gives as examples for future times. Give, son, I pray, and what is more than this: think what you flee and how much better things are to be sought. Let not the deceit of the foolish king tempt you.'

But let these things now grow into their opposites." The victorious spirit extinguished the flames; then, as had been called for, the body, which it had given, the opened earth received, and the holy, inviolate soul that remains withdrew. Though weary, the mother, and through her own wounds victorious, fell upon her face, and with upturned hands she spoke these words and such utterances: "You who hold dominion over heaven, earth, and sea, who give the stars to the sky, animals to the lands, fish to the seas, and who temper the winds for the birds: to you, great one, the trust of my mind rises, you who divide the immense chaos, mixed with blind darkness, into parts and give both night and day, and the moon and the sun, which you always command at varying times to provide light through the world by night and day. After these, you give man, from whose seed the mortal race of the world is completed, to whom a tongue speaks, discordant among peoples; yet taste is one for all. But to recount what has changed the merit and the speeches of men is a long delay: it is certain to persist in what has been begun. We confess that you held the sea divided by a rod, while the people crossed the dry seabed on foot, fleeing the deaths of Egypt and King Pharaoh, who ordered the number of the saints to serve him. Whom your majesty, with Moses as leader, transferred across the river, and, preserved by your power, safe, you separated. The earth gave fruits, which it bore at your compulsion,

and you sought water in hiding places for refreshment." There was no moisture: all, complaining with shouts, were demanding that Moses give water to the thirsty. To them he spoke in a brief speech thus: "Believe that God can do whatever you ask of Him. He who is able with this rod to pour forth a stream from rock, so that springs may come throughout the whole region that were denied." And he struck at the same time: swifter than any word, the rock sent forth springs with first sweetness. I confess, although the whole world is indebted to you, you alone can do all that nations can, and you alone grasp all that nations do not grasp. You burden and lighten the mortal race with cares: I pray you, with astonished mind, confirm me as I fear. Let my lowliest infant, ignorant of himself, not be absent from the number of the brothers; whom I already see from afar being held, surrounded by a frequent crowd. For this one alone, his age moves me to tears; for one remains, about whom I have the greatest concern: that the tender one not be ignorant of from what race he was created. If I could secretly seize him alone, I would coax him and teach him his father's race and fatherland: but whatever I can, I will send consolations. "Little boy, dearer to me than your tender years—you are dearer than the kingdom, dearer than life itself—you can render your mother wholly victorious.

you, the end of birth and the end of future evils, if care for me touches you, if you retain a mother's honor with a pious mind; although you are dear and an infant, all the more with eager ear attend to a parent's words. First learn, boy, what you will be after this. If you have been patient; what you will be to me, dear one, deeds teach. You will remain in the portion of the holy brothers and will be secure in rest, while the ages run their savage course. After a long time has ended, seeking this light again, you will see eternal kingdoms. Not stained by evils, but there will be concord with the saints; nor will there be any place for death, nor will wars be waged with swift horses, but eternal peace will remain. Believe your mother, who desires you to be of salvation. Woe is me, why do you repel my words with a sad face? Why do you flee? Have pity on me, have pity on yourself! If it is allowed. I would wish to go first: behold, she forbids! But I will go then, when I have seen you, son, victor over evils. What do you bid me to hope? You alone delay my words, you alone still call back my grief, son. Do you nod assent? Or do you condemn me and the brothers and the family? Lest you perhaps wish that, I beg and entreat you. Listen! I nourished you, son, with these breasts when you were small, with these, I pray, and I pour forth tears on your account, son, lest you wish to remain: you will remain alone and bereft; you no longer have any brother. Who will give consolations of life? Alas, you alone attempt to confound your mother and your family and your fatherland, if you refuse such words. O how much better you will preserve your life for eternity.

If you act before God as those before you acted, boldly put aside fear, put aside dread, conceive God in your mind; He will give you manly strength. While the mother was doing this, the boy looks back at his parent’s commands, and seeing that he alone is left, he raised his face and upturned palms to heaven, and thus with his voice adoring the eternal deity, whom he was beseeching with equal mind and nod, that he might conquer the king, that he might conquer the savage fires. And so, not sluggish, nor in keeping with his boyish years, he leaps intrepidly, slipping down into the midst of the fires, and fights as victor, until his spirit returned to the heights and sought the secret places of his elder brothers. While the boy was doing this, joy released the mother: and now, as she was worn down by evils, now with voice denied, she breathes her last in triumph; and among the hands of her own she collapsed lifeless, and her loosened limbs grew still. Thus she herself and her son were received into the company of the saints.