On His Own Life 1 part 3/3

But when I and the majesty of the purple were within the sacred chancel-rail, and from all there rose up a mingled praise, God being invoked with shouting and the raising of hands, so great a gleam of sunlight shone forth — the cloud having burst at God's command — that the whole building at once became radiant as with lightning, though before it had been overcast, and all received the image of the ancient Tabernacle, which the brightness of God used to conceal; and the sight made bright both the eyes and the minds of all.

And here, boldness surging with the sight, they began to cry out for me with all their might, seeking me, as though this alone were wanting to what was already present, and as though this would be the first and greatest gift of the new reign to the city, granted even before formal enthronement —

that I be given to the throne of the city.

This came from men of rank and from the lowly, all made equal by an equal longing; this too was shouted from on high by women, almost beyond what befits womanly modesty.

It was like an incredible thunder, echoing back and forth, until I, raising up one who sat beside me on the throne — for I myself had no strength of voice, being crushed by the crowd and worn out with fear — spoke these words through another's tongue:

"Hold, you there! Restrain your shouting!"

And afterward he spoke also of weightier matters. The people acclaimed what I had said — for moderation is dear to all — and the emperor himself departed, giving his approval.

Thus this gathering came to an end, having frightened us only this much — as much as one drawn sword returning to its sheath — and cutting short the rashness of the heated crowd.

But what follows from here, I do not know how I shall carry forward my account, which also has some weight in these matters.

What writer would give an end to my discourse for me? For I am ashamed at my own praises, even if another speaks well of me.

Nevertheless I will speak, moderating myself as best I have strength.

The city had cast down its arrogant snorting, once the church was taken.

Yet still it groaned beneath, like the giant, so they say, who, struck by the thunderbolt, lies pinned under the crag of Etna, belching smoke and fire from the depths.

What then, before God, was right for me to do? Teach me, tell me — you who now think yourselves so accomplished, that assembly of wretched striplings, to whom gentleness is reckoned weakness, and frenzied, utterly base conduct is reckoned manly!

To push, to drive, to provoke to savagery, to inflame, using opportunity and power insatiably? Or rather to administer the medicine of salvation? For thus it was possible to gain two good things at once:

to make them themselves moderate by my own moderation, and for us to gain both good repute and their affection.

This was just, and this I shall be shown to have always done — even then, as far as it was possible.

First, that I might show I was not yielding more to the drift of circumstance than to the power of God — what good counsel do I heed? I hold reason as my safest advisor. While all men courted the proud brow of those in authority — above all the inner attendants of such men, who are cowards in everything else except where money is concerned — what could one say of how, and by what manifold arts, those who cling to the very gates of the palace accuse others, take bribes outrageously, gorge themselves wickedly on the name of piety, and behave disgracefully, to put it briefly? I alone, I resolved, would rather be longed for than hated, and I purchased my dignity through scarcity, devoting the greater part of myself to God and to purification, and leaving the doors of the powerful to others.

Next, seeing some in distress, conscious of wrongs they had done, and others, as is natural, desiring good treatment, I released the former from their fear, and I helped the latter — others still, according to their various needs, as far as my power allowed.

Of all these I will tell one, for the sake of an example.

Once I was resting indoors, on account of illness — for it had begun, it had begun, coinciding with my labors.

This was my luxury, as it seems to the envious.

While things were thus, suddenly some of the people came in, and with them a young man, pale, long-haired, dressed in mourning.

And having uttered to the emperor whatever grateful words seemed fitting, lavishly, as to one who had granted them this very day, and having praised us with certain words, they departed.

But he, suddenly clinging to my feet, a mute suppliant, was struck with terror.

And when I said, 'Who are you, and from where, and what do you need?' — nothing more came than louder cries.

He wailed, he groaned, and the grip of his hands grew tighter still.

And when he was torn away by force (for it could not be done by words), one of those present said:

"This man," he said, "is the murderer of you, who see the light of day through God's protection."

"He comes here of his own will, a prisoner of his own conscience — a senseless murderer, yet a noble accuser of himself; his tears pay the price for the blood he would have shed." These things he said.

I was broken by these words, and I uttered a saying that released him from the wrong:

"For me, who have been saved, to show kindness to my would-be murderer is no great thing.

Your audacity has made you mine.

See to it that you become worthy of both me and God." These things I said.

And the city (for nothing good remains hidden) was at once softened, just as iron is softened by fiery workings.

As for the much-rumored matter of so vast a sum of money — which the greatest churches of the whole inhabited world had been treasuring up from every age, in heirlooms and revenues from every source — I found no accounting whatsoever in the records of the former overseers of the church, nor among the new stewards in whose hands the affairs now lay. I chose to let it be, and not to bring in any outsider at all to audit it, though some advised and even urged me to do so — that is, to appoint an auditor of these things, to the outrage of the sacred mystery. How much do you suppose it was? For one is accountable only for what he himself actually holds, not for what it would have been right to receive but was not.

Whoever is a slave to money finds fault with this;

but whoever is superior to it will readily approve.

For while greed is evil in anyone, it is worse to be insatiable in matters of the Spirit.

If all men thought thus concerning money, the churches would never be found possessed of such abundance — I say this not to my own credit — I mean, as much as is devoted to ministry, drawing near to God.

And this too was a jibe of my opponents: that the flock — formerly divided, when we were in want — would not suffice to fill even the gateways.

So utterly had we been despised by all, we of whom now there are temples, and temples full.

These things were my earnest concern — not to mention overseeing the poor, monastics, virgins, the sick, strangers, resident aliens, prisoners, all-night psalm-singing and weeping, men and women practicing holiness, and other things besides, in which God delights when done in good order.

But envy the destroyer did not rest, by which all things are overcome, either openly or secretly;

it makes my holding of office the beginning of my troubles.

For as many bishops as presided over the peoples of the East, Egypt excepted, as far as the second Rome, moved from the innermost recesses of land and sea — by what counsel of God I know not — came together, as though to establish a pious see.

Their president was a most pious man, simple, artless in character, full of God; his gaze was serene, inspiring in those who beheld him a confidence tempered with reverence — a very field cultivated by the Spirit.

Who did not know this man, whom my account makes plain — the leader of the church of the Antiochenes, who was what he was called, and was called what he was? For both his character and his name were of honey.

who endured much for the sake of the divine Spirit (even if some small thing was stolen away by an alien hand), scouring away error through brilliant contests

These men set me upon the venerable throne, though I cried out and groaned — except that, for one reason alone, I was not wholly unwilling.

What was that reason? For it is not right to conceal the truth.

I imagined, in the vain fantasies of my heart (for the will is quick to hope, and in the fervor of the spirit everything seems easiest, and I too am, in such matters, somehow otherwise high-minded), that if I should gain the mastery of this throne — for mere appearance too carries no small weight — like a chorus-leader standing between two choirs, drawing to himself the neighbors on either side, this one here, that one there, I would, by the law of the dance, gather into one those who stood so ill-divided.

And how was this not most wretched, worthy of copious tears and many laments and rending of garments — such as no one, of the ancients or the moderns, ever raised over any sorrow before, so many evils having befallen so many — not even worthy of that scattering of Israel which all men sing of, which the wrath that slew Christ winnowed away?

Bishops and teachers of the people, givers of the Spirit, from whose lofty thrones saving discourse issues forth, who ever preach peace to all with far-reaching voices amid the churches — these men raged so bitterly against one another that, shouting, gathering allies, accusing and being accused, bribing, hastening abroad at a bound, plundering whomever each could catch before the other, in the frenzy of love of rule and of sole dominion — how shall I cry this aloud, and in what words? — they have already torn apart the whole inhabited world, as I said before, when I began my discourse.

East and West are now reckoned divided more by a cleavage of doctrine than by lands and latitudes.

For these were united, not indeed at their outer bounds, but at least in their midst.

But these men are as nothing, broken off from what was needful — not for piety's sake (this is what wrath contrives, a ready liar), but for strife over thrones.

What do I mean by 'the leaders'? Not the leaders themselves so much (for I know both to be moderate men), as their wretched underlings on both sides, who fan the kindled flame like gusts of wind, managing their own affairs well among their friends — if indeed this is 'well', then at least not too badly.

Of these evils, I too got my share.

For since he whom I praised just now — {the president of the church of the Antiochenes} — full of years both measured and beyond measure, having, as I hear, given much conciliatory counsel, such as he had before been heard confiding to friends, thence passed on to the choir of angels; and with a divine procession, and with the whole city then, as report has it, poured forth in its fullest measure, he was sent onward to his own homeland — a fine treasure indeed for those who had known him.

But there lay before us a deliberation that should never have been deliberated at all — one which the factious and wicked men were contriving, eager to set up another rival president against him who till then had held the throne alone.

Many words were stirred up from both sides, some peaceable, and some tending toward harm.

Then I myself spoke the words which I believed to be both the best and a remedy for the evils.

You do not seem to me, friends, all to hold the same opinion, nor to have come here reckoning worthy of consideration the very matters for whose sake we must now deliberate, but rather to err by the greatest possible measure from what is needful.

Your concern is with a single city, and how it may contend yet the more just now — for this is the very aim you pursue — and you need my hand to lend its aid.

But mine is the concern of greater things, and things more entire.

Behold this great circle of the earth, which has been sealed with streams of precious blood — God having suffered in the guise of man, and having given himself, in honor, as a ransom, together with many other, lesser sacrifices besides.

This world is being convulsed — let us grant it — for two angels; yet not even they (I speak the word of a man in pain) are worthy of so great an honor.

On the contrary — the more they are angels, the less worthy they are of strife and of baser things.

if indeed the better deserves the better.

So then, while a divine purpose stood at stake in the midst of it — nor was it yet clear how the men of the West, hitherto embittered, would receive the man — it was in some measure pardonable even moderately to grieve those who, as they say, are the defenders of the laws.

for a gentle man is a remedy against wrath, and not knowing the full truth gives the greatest freedom for bold speech.

But now — for there is not a single storm left, God having granted calm to his own affairs — what do I say must be done? Receive my word, a word of foresight, wiser than that of the young.

For we elders shall not persuade away their fervor.

for it is ever a matter of less empty glory.

Let the throne be held by whoever holds it for the present.

What harm is there, if we mourn the man a little longer, as was once the custom? Then old age will grant the resolution of the matter — that common, necessary, and honorable term appointed for the whole race.

The one who dies will go where he has long desired, giving back to God, who gave it, his spirit.

And then we, out of the concord of soul of all the people and of wise bishops, shall give the throne another occupant, with the Spirit's aid.

This, then, would be one resolution of these evils: either the greater course — to win over the alien party as well (for the West, as I see, is now estranged from us) — or, as a second-best voyage, that the city come to one mind — so great a people, worn out as it is by so much time.

Let it come to a stand at last, however late; let the storm of the world be stilled.

Let us take pity — both on those now torn asunder, and on those close to that same suffering, and on those yet to come.

and let us learn whether these things will prevail over long time.

It stands upon a razor's edge, whether our solemn and venerable doctrine is still being preserved, or whether it exists no more, dissolved utterly by faction.

For just as the poor quality of the colors is imputed to the painter — though not by right reasoning — or the character of the disciples to their teachers, so too is a bad initiate imputed to his guide — how much more is a bad hierophant an outrage against the mystery!

Let us be defeated in some small measure, so as to win a greater victory — salvation to God's glory, and the saving of a world so wretchedly perishing.

Surely victory does not in every case bring glory.

Better to be nobly deprived than basely to possess.

This the Trinity knows, and knows too the brilliant proclamation of my frank speech, uttered even amid stones hurled at me — which also made me an object of envy to the wicked.

I have spoken today simply and justly, the things which I know will profit those now under deliberation.

But if any of these evil men supposes that I say this to curry favor, myself having been bought (for there are indeed traffickers in high office, full of gold and of like eagerness), or that I look to some private advantage, as is the way of many, myself scheming to hide within these evils, or from this contriving power for myself — let him leave the judgment of it to the final fire.

But grant me a life without a throne — inglorious, indeed, yet free from danger.

I shall go and dwell where there is solitude from these evils.

For it is better than, mingled with the crowd, to have power neither to draw others to one's own will, nor to go along oneself with others, where there is no sense in it.

Come then — whoever knows the throne, let him mount it.

It will pass through many occupants, both the worthy and the base.

My speech is ended. This is what I said.

But they cawed, one from here, another from there — a mob of jackdaws marshaled into one, a tumult of young men, a new workshop of mischief, a whirlwind dragging up dust in a strife of winds — men to whom not even one of the mature would, out of reverence for God and for age, have thought fit to render account — seething in disorder, or darting, like wasps, straight at our faces, all together in a swarm.

And the venerable senate of elders followed after them.

So far were they from bringing the young men to their senses.

And consider their reasoning too — how commendable it was!

For, they said, affairs must keep pace with the sun, taking their beginning from that point whence God shone forth upon us in the projection of flesh.

What then? Shall we learn not to venerate the turning-points of the sun, but to consider the flesh of Christ the firstfruits of our whole race?

But someone might quickly reply: 'it began just there, where boldness is greatest' — as though one who is ready to die here too would reason: 'from this comes resurrection, and from this, salvation.' Ought not those who held such opinions have yielded to those who, as I said, had grasped the truth readily? From this it is plain that in other matters too they were high-minded.

That sweet and lovely fountain of the ancient faith, which gathered the venerable nature of the Trinity into one — of which Nicaea was once the council-chamber — this I saw wretchedly fouled by the brackish inflows of the double-minded, men who hold such opinions, in whom power delights; men 'moderate' in creed — welcome indeed, if they were truly moderate, and not manifestly of the opposing persuasion — bishops now only learning about God, teachers yesterday and disciples today, perfecters of others, yet themselves perfected only afterward, setting the people in order — men who, I know not how, nevertheless blurt out their own faults, and this without tears.

which is strange indeed — a tearless confession of one's own ailments.

for they say all things are slaves to circumstance.

But what greater luxury is there than mere sport? A thing to be had neither by toil, as most possessions are, nor procured elsewhere, nor even bought. But how could we — we who are so exceedingly humane — refuse it? We set forth a proclamation before the tribunals:

Whoever wishes, let him enter here — even should he prove a man twice turned, or many times turned.

It is a theater thrown open to all; a festal gathering stands ready.

Let not a single one depart without his business done.

Should the die turn again — for nothing turns more readily than occasion — you still have your little trick.

It is accounted, it seems, no wisdom to cling to a single faith, but rather to know many ways of escape in life. And what comes of this? That many-layered image of old, seen in dreams —

gold, then silver, bronze, iron, and potter's clay at the feet.

I fear lest the stone should winnow all these away.

And for Moabites and Ammonites, for whom of old it was not permitted, now there is an entrance into the church.

But did you not praise these very things before? Speak!

There were assemblies — of such men as they were then (for I am loath to say again those of whom I am ashamed) — assemblies of everyone, which is as much as to say, of no one worth naming.

For the rule of the many is anarchy.

As for me, my illness governed well, keeping me at home often and many times indeed, with my gaze fixed on one thing alone — departure, which held release from all evils.

But whatever came to pass, let that stand as law.

There were some who, by force and with difficulty, yet nevertheless did come together — men who had some share of frankness, as many as had ignorance of the evil for their advocate, beguiled by the duplicity of the teachings, and by the proclamation set forth in their midst, pious in outward form, yet offspring wholly estranged from its parents.

But the great rabble of Christ-hucksters I will admit only then — when someone mixes mud with the fragrance of unsullied myrrh.

For it is easier to share in evil than in good.

With these the innovator was not pleased (so the reckless call the prudent), but neither were those pleased with the prudent man.

So there arose again that Lot, and the patriarch Abraham.

The one walks this way, the other the opposite way, so as not to be crowded by the breadth of their possessions.

What need to tell with how many and what kind of words my dearest friends tried this grey head of mine — granting me the first honors, yet asking in return for what was genuine, alas, for Gregory the genuine one — friends genuine indeed, but joined together in a conspiracy of evils.

And this it was: to have me cooperating in everything.

How, in everything? Who ever imagined so much — that a multitude, and not the word of God, would lead me toward anything? Sooner shall the nature of springs flow upward, and fire travel its opposite course, than I shall betray anything of my own salvation.

From then on I began stealing my foot away out of their midst.

For indeed I exchanged my dwelling, dragging myself out of the depths of the church, far from evils and disputes and assemblies.

Except for how greatly those devoted to me groaned — of the people especially, not to speak of everyone — crying out, beseeching, lifting their hands to God, adjuring me, mourning me already as one dead — such was the suffering, such the tears.

How was it possible to bear this, and with what heart? Will you abandon us, your — as we used to hear it called — ear of grain, once slender, but now a rich-eared harvest? And the proselyte people — some standing at your doors, for whom you need only open them, some already within, and some the very hunter of strangers — to whom will you hand them over? Who will nurture your offspring? Honor your labors, to which you gave yourself so fully.

Give what remains of your breath to us, and to God.

Let the church become the one who escorts your life to its final end. These things broke my heart indeed, yet still I held firm.

A little while, and God grants the resolution.

For they came, they came suddenly, having been summoned, as though to contribute something toward the aim of peace — Egyptians and Macedonians, laborers in the laws and mysteries of God — breathing upon us a western wind, and a harsh one.

Against them advanced the people of the sun-minded East.

And like boars whetting their savage tusks (that I might borrow something from tragedy), glaring sidelong with fiery eyes, they clashed together.

And amid the many things stirred up, by movements more of anger than of reason, they also considered something more bitter than my own case, twisting laws long since dead — laws from which we were, in fact, most fully and clearly free.

Not, indeed, out of hostility toward me, nor hastening to give the see to another — not at all — but rather targeting the labor of those who had enthroned me, as at least they clearly persuaded me by secret disclosures.

For they said they knew that the insult done to them was not to be borne, an outrage as old as it was renewed in these new affairs.

But I, for a time, like a horse in bondage, though worn down by troubles and by illness, did not cease stamping my feet within, and neighed a servant's neigh from the fetters of that force, longing for pastures and for my own solitude.

But when they saw fit to stir up what I have already told, I broke my bonds and gladly seized the occasion — I could never persuade the lovers of power, that much is plain, but it is nonetheless true.

And coming forward into their midst, I spoke as follows:

Men, whom God has gathered together, that you might take counsel on matters dear to God — let what concerns me be set as a matter of secondary account.

For it is a small matter, at least in comparison to so great an assembly, however it may turn out — even if I am chosen in vain.

But you — lift up your minds toward something greater.

Become one; be bound together, at least now, late as it is.

As for me, I become the prophet Jonah.

I give myself for the salvation of the ship, although I am not the cause of the storm.

Take me up and cast me forth by the casting of lots.

A sea-monster from the deep will receive me as a hospitable host.

From this, begin to be of one mind.

Proceed through everything in order.

Let this be called a place of open space.

If you halt at me alone, this is dishonor.

I lay down this law: do not fight over thrones.

If you are so minded, nothing will be difficult.

I was not enthroned gladly, and now I depart willingly.

My body too, being in such a state, persuades me to this.

But, O my Trinity, it is for you alone that I care.

What tongue will you have as your ready advocate — or at least one that is free, and full of zeal? Farewell, and remember my labors. These things I said.

And I went forth, caught between joy and a certain dejection.

Joy, because I had gained some cessation from my labors; grief, because I did not know where the people would be left.

Who is not torn apart, being orphaned of his children? I, at any rate, felt so.

But others, and God, know whether there is anything more hidden beneath the surface.

The wreck of ships, and reefs, and ambushes lurking in the deep.

Others say these things; but I will keep silent.

For I have no leisure to learn intricate evils, being one who practices simplicity of heart, from which comes salvation — the only matter my whole discourse is concerned with.

More than is fitting, I was suddenly honored by an all-too-easy acclamation.

Such are the gifts a homeland grants to its own.

But what of dealings with power? Did I stoop? Did I bow low? Did I clasp his right hand in supplication? Did I bring forward any pleading words? Did I put forward other envoys from among my friends — those in office who were dearest to me? Did I pour out gold to the great potentate, so eager was I not to fall from my see? Let such things belong to others, to those excessively versed in scheming.

But I, just as I was, ran up to the purple, with many present and watching what was happening, and I too, I said, O king, ask a favor of your all-generous, all-encompassing authority.

I do not ask you for gold, nor richly colored panels, nor coverings for the mystic table, nor to obtain some ruling eminence for my family, or to stand close beside you, O best of men.

These are the concerns of others, for whom small things are the object of ambition.

But I deem myself worthy of even greater things.

Thrones I do desire — but only to revere them from a distance.

I have grown weary of everyone, even friends, hated because I am unable to look toward anything but God.

Demand from these men their longed-for concord.

Let them cast away their weapons — for your sake, if not for fear of God and of punishment.

Raise a trophy over this bloodless battle, you who raised one over the unbending insolence of the barbarians.

Demand this of it (displaying at once this grey head, and the toils which we poured out for God): that it endure suffering for the good order of the world.

You know how they set me on the throne, even against my will. These things the emperor applauded there in the midst of all, and others applauded as well, and I receive the grace — reluctantly, as they say, yet I receive it all the same.

What second care now occupies wretched me? To persuade everyone to bear these things with equanimity, and to entertain nothing rash at all — whether out of affection for me or out of anger at wickedness.

I comforted them, I praised them, amid my own troubles I strengthened the assembly — those from outside, the bell-wethers of the flock, both the long-standing and the newly converted, who could not bear the desolation of their father, and those among the bishops who were most deeply struck.

For many, when they perceived the plan, fled away as if from bolts of lightning, stopping their ears and clapping their hands, so that they might never behold with their own eyes this sight — someone else exalted to my throne.

Defeated—O the wonder!—yet crowned, having God and my God-filled friends instead of thrones and empty bluster.

Mock on, be merry, exult, O wise men!

Make my misfortunes a song in your assemblies, your drinking-parties, and your public platforms.

Crow like cocks, as though victorious, beating your ribs with your elbows, standing erect, necks held high amid the throng of fools.

With but one man willing, all of you together prevailed.

If indeed it was of my own will—O envy!—you rob me even of this, boasting as though I had been cast out.

But if against my will, be ashamed of your wickedness—you who yesterday enthroned me and today persecute one who has escaped these things.

As for me, whatever one's disposition toward me, it will neither harm my life nor benefit it.

Let tongues flow past me like empty breezes.

And I have had my fill of them—struck often by evil report, and often by exceptional praise.

I seek to dwell in some solitude away from evils, where for me the divine is sought by mind alone, and a buoyant hope of things above nurses my old age.

But what shall I give to the churches? My tears.

For to this very end God has gathered me in, winding my life through many turnings—whither will it proceed? Tell me, O Word of God!

I pray for that unshaken dwelling, where is my Trinity and its blended splendor, toward which we now are lifted up but dimly, through shadows.