Church History 1 part 10/18

Having led him in and arranged for him to enter the innermost sanctuary, the deceiver summoned the demons.

And when they appeared with their customary apparition, fear compelled him to set the sign of the cross upon his forehead;

and they, seeing the sign of the Lord's trophy and being reminded of their own defeat, immediately vanished.

But that sorcerer, perceiving the cause of their flight, rebuked him for it.

And Julian both admitted his fear and declared that he marveled at the power of the cross, saying:

"For the demons fled, unable to bear the sight of its sign."

"Do not suppose this, good sir," said the sorcerer, "for they did not flee out of fear, as you say, but departed in abhorrence of what you did."

Thus deceiving the wretched man, he initiated him and filled him with pollution.

And so the desire for the kingdom stripped the thrice-wretched man of piety.

Nevertheless, upon assuming power, he concealed his impiety for a very long time;

for he was especially afraid of the soldiers, who had received the teachings of piety.

For first the all-renowned Constantine, having freed them from their former deception, instructed them in the teachings of truth;

and then his sons made the teaching that had come from their father even firmer within them.

For even though Constantius, deceived by those who guided him, did not accept the term "homoousios," he nonetheless purely confessed its meaning.

For he called God the Word the true Son begotten of the Father before the ages, openly denounced those who dared to call him a creature, and utterly forbade the worship of idols.

I shall also relate another praiseworthy deed of his, sufficient to attest his zeal for divine things.

For indeed, in the war against Magnentius, having assembled the whole army together, he counselled all to partake of the divine mysteries, saying that the end of life is always uncertain, and not least so in war, when countless arrows, shields, and spears are hurled from both sides, and swords and daggers are wielded, along with the other instruments by which violent death is inflicted.

"For this reason each man must possess that garment worth acquiring, which we need above all in that life to come."

"But if anyone delays taking up this vesture, let him now depart from here and go home;

for I will not endure fighting alongside the uninitiated." Now Julian, knowing these things well, did not make his soul's impiety manifest, but, drawing everyone to goodwill toward himself, he ordered that the bishops who had been driven out of their churches by Constantius, even those dwelling at the ends of the inhabited world, should return to their own churches.

When this law was thus enacted, the divine Meletius returned to Antioch, and the much-praised Athanasius to Alexandria.

Eusebius and Hilary, who were from Italy, and Lucifer, who had been allotted to shepherd the island of Sardinia, were living in the Thebaid near Egypt;

for Constantius had banished them there.

These men, coming together with the other like-minded ones, said that it was necessary to bring the churches into one accord.

For not only were the churches besieged by those who held opposing views, but they were also at strife among themselves.

For indeed at Antioch the sound body of the church was divided in two:

for those who from the beginning, for the sake of the all-renowned Eustathius, had separated from the rest and assembled by themselves, and those who, with the admirable Meletius, had separated from the Arian faction, celebrated the divine liturgies in the church called "the Old."

And the confession of faith of both these and those was one and the same:

for each body championed the doctrine set forth at Nicaea.

Only strife, and their attachment to their respective leaders, kept them apart from one another;

for not even the death of one of them dissolved the division.

For those bearing the name of Eustathius were not persuaded to reunite.

Eusebius and Lucifer, and those with them, sought to find a means for this union:

Eusebius asked Lucifer to go to Alexandria and confer with the great Athanasius on this matter, while he himself wished to undertake the labor of reconciliation.

But Lucifer did not go to Alexandria; instead he arrived at the city of Antioch.

Having addressed many arguments concerning reconciliation to both parties, and then seeing that those of the Eustathian faction (which was led by Paulinus, a presbyter) objected, he ordained Paulinus as bishop for them — an action he did not do well.

This made that division last even longer:

for it persisted for eighty-five years, until the presidency of Alexander, who is worthy of all praise;

who, having been entrusted with the helm of the church of Antioch, employed every means and brought to bear every zeal and eagerness for concord, and joined the separated member back to the rest of the body of the church.

At that time, then, Lucifer, having increased the division, remained in Antioch for a very long time.

But Eusebius, upon arriving at Antioch and perceiving that, through this unfortunate remedy, the malady had become hard to cure, sailed away to the West.

And Lucifer, having arrived in Sardinia, added certain other things to the doctrines of the church.

And those who received these teachings also took their name from his:

for they were called Luciferians for a very long time.

But this teaching, too, was extinguished and consigned to oblivion.

These things, then, took place after the return of the bishops.

But when Julian revealed his own impiety, the cities were filled with dissensions.

For those enslaved to the error of idols, taking fresh courage, opened the shrines of the idols and performed those abominable rites worthy of oblivion:

they kindled the fire upon the altars, and, defiling the earth with the blood of their victims, they polluted the air with the reek and smoke of the sacrifices.

And driven into Bacchic frenzy by the demons they served, raving and behaving like Corybants, they ran wildly through the streets, employed scurrilous jests and mockeries against the saints, and no form of abuse and public derision was lacking.

But the devotees of piety, unable to bear their blasphemies, retorted with abuse and refuted the error which those men championed.

The workers of impiety, growing angry and having as provision for their boldness the license granted them by the ruler, inflicted incurable blows upon them.

For the utterly abominable emperor, though he ought to have provided for the peace of his subjects, himself incited the populace to frenzy against one another.

For he looked on with indifference at the outrages the bolder dared against the more moderate, and he entrusted the civil and military offices to the most savage and impious men, who did not openly compel the lovers of piety to sacrifice, but heaped upon them every kind of dishonor.

For he also took away the privileges that had been allotted to the clergy by the great Constantine.

Now the deeds which those bound to the deceit of idols dared to commit at that time are very many and would require a separate treatise of their own;

but I shall relate a few out of many.

For at Ascalon and Gaza (these are cities of Palestine), they ripped open the bellies of men who had been deemed worthy of the priesthood and of women who had vowed lifelong virginity, then filled them with barley and set them out as food for swine.

At Sebaste (this too belongs to the aforementioned nation) they opened the tomb of John the Baptist, gave his bones over to fire, and scattered the ashes.

But how could anyone relate without tears the abomination perpetrated in Phoenicia? For at Heliopolis, near Lebanon, there was a certain deacon named Cyril.

This man, in the reign of Constantine, burning with divine zeal, smashed many of the idols worshiped there.

Cutting open his belly, they tasted of his liver.

Yet they did not escape the all-seeing eye, but paid the penalty their audacity deserved.

For as many as had shared in that abomination were deprived of all their teeth, which fell out together, and they were deprived of their tongues as well;

for these too rotted away, falling into decay;

they were also deprived of their sight, and through their sufferings they proclaimed the power of piety.

But the drama of Mark, bishop of Arethusa, requires the grand eloquence of Aeschylus and Sophocles, that they might worthily give tragic voice to his sufferings.

For since, in the time of Constantius, he had torn down a certain idol shrine and built a church, the people of Arethusa, having learned Julian's intent, laid bare their hostility.

He first attempted to flee, in accordance with the evangelical precept;

but when he learned that some of those under his charge had been seized in his place, he returned and gave himself up to the murderers.

But when they had taken him, they neither pitied him as an old man nor respected him as one devoted to virtue; rather, though the man was adorned in both life and word, they first tortured him, stripping his body bare and laying whips upon all his limbs;

then, casting him into foul-smelling sewers and bringing him up again from there, they handed him over to a crowd of boys, ordering them to prick him mercilessly with styluses.

After this, putting him into a wicker basket and smearing him with fish sauce and honey, they hung him up in the open air at the height of summer, inviting wasps and bees alike to feast.

They did this, compelling him to choose one of two things: either to rebuild the shrine that had been torn down, or to pay the cost of its construction.

But he endured those grievous sufferings, while promising to do none of what was demanded of him.

They, supposing that he was not providing the money because of poverty, remitted half of what had been demanded, and ordered him to pay the rest;

But he, hanging there, pierced by the styluses and being devoured by wasps and bees, not only did not show any sign of his pains, but even mocked those unholy men, saying that they were creatures who crawled upon the ground and clung to earth, while he himself was raised on high, aloft above the earth.

At last they demanded but a small portion of the money;

but he said it was equally impious to give even a single obol as to give everything.

Thus defeated, they released him, having come to admire greatly his endurance, and having been turned, through these very opposites, to the opposite disposition.

For through his tongue they learned true piety afresh.

And countless other outrages, in every part of land and sea, were at that time dared by the impious against the pious.

For indeed the god-hated one now openly legislated against piety.

And first he forbade the children of the Galileans (for so he called the devotees of our Savior) from partaking of the studies of poets, rhetoricians, and philosophers.

"For," said he, "according to the proverb, we are struck by our own feathers;

for arming themselves from our own writings, they take up war against us."

After this he enacted another law, ordering the Galileans to be driven out of the army.

At this time Athanasius, that champion of truth skilled in every contest, again underwent another danger.

For the demons, unable to bear the power of Athanasius's tongue and prayer, armed their own servants with slanders against him.

They uttered many other cries too, beseeching the champion of impiety to drive Athanasius out, and they added this as well:

"If Athanasius remains, not a single pagan will be left;

for he will transfer them all into his own band."

Julian, receiving these entreaties, ordered not only that Athanasius be driven out, but also that he be put to death.

While they were in dread, he is said to have foretold the swift ending of the disturbance;

for he called it a cloud that would dissolve very quickly.

He withdrew, however, upon learning that those who had been sent had arrived;

and finding a ferry-boat by the bank of the river, he set out toward the region of the Thebans.

But the one who had been ordered to kill him, learning of his flight, pursued him with all his might.

When another of his acquaintances had gone ahead and reported that he was pressing hard after him, some of those with him begged him to turn aside into the desert;

but he himself ordered the pilot to steer the ferry-boat toward Alexandria.

So then, as they were sailing directly toward the very man pursuing them, the one who had received the orders for his death arrived and asked how far off Athanasius was.

He said that this man was near at hand, sent him off, and himself reached Alexandria, remaining there in hiding for the rest of Julian's life.

But he said that the neighboring corpses were an obstacle to the divination, and that they must first be removed to another place, and only then would he declare the prophecy:

"for I could say nothing unless the precinct is purified."

At that time there lay there the relics of the gloriously victorious martyr Babylas and of the youths who had contended alongside him;

and it was clear that the false oracle was being kept from its customary lying by his grace.

Julian too understood this (for from his former piety he had known the power of the martyrs), and so he did not have any other dead body removed from there, but ordered the devotees of Christ to carry away only the relics of the victorious martyrs.

"Let all who worship graven images be put to shame."

For they took the transfer of the martyr's relics as a defeat of the demon.

But Julian, unable to bear the shame that came upon him from this, on the next day ordered the leaders of that procession to be arrested.

Now Sallustius, who was prefect at that time, although he was in bondage to impiety, tried to persuade the tyrant not to grant the Christians, who were eager for glory, what they desired.

But when he saw that the emperor was unable to master his rage, he seized a certain young man, adorned with divine zeal, who was walking through the marketplace, and, hanging him up publicly on a wooden frame, tore his back to shreds with thongs and gouged his sides with claws;

and he continued doing this, beginning from dawn until the close of day.

Then, putting iron chains on him, he ordered him to be kept under guard.

At dawn, informing Julian of this and reporting the young man's endurance, he said that what was happening was a defeat for themselves, but glory for the Christians.

Persuaded by this, the god-hated one did not allow others to suffer these things, and indeed he ordered Theodore to be released from prison;

for this was the name of that young and noble champion of the truth.

Some asked him whether he had felt any pain, having endured those bitter and most cruel torments.

He said that at first he felt a little pain, but then someone appeared to him, continually wiping the sweat from his face with a soft and cool cloth, and urging him to take courage;

and for this reason, he said, when the executioners stopped, he was not glad but grieved.

For he said that even the one who furnished the soul's inspiration had likewise deserted.

But the lying, prophesying demon increased the martyr's glory, while exposing his own falsehood.

For a thunderbolt, sent down from heaven, set the whole shrine ablaze, and reduced the very statue of the Pythian god to the finest dust.

For it was made of wood, overlaid on the outside with gold.

When he saw the so-called god turned to dust, he tortured the temple wardens, suspecting that the fire had been caused by some Christian.

But they, even while being tortured, could not bring themselves to say anything false.

For they said that the fire had taken its beginning not from below but from above; and some of the country folk from the neighboring districts, arriving, said that they had seen the lightning bolt come borne down from heaven.

But although the impious had learned that these things had happened in this way, they armed themselves against the God of the universe.

The tyrant ordered the sacred vessels to be handed over to the imperial treasuries, and, having nailed shut the doors of the great church which Constantine had built, he made it inaccessible to those who gathered there.

Now at that time those of Arius's faction held possession of it.

Together with Julian, the prefect of the East, there entered the sacred temple Felix, who was treasurer of the imperial treasures, and Elpidius, who had been entrusted with the administration of the emperor's private funds and estates.

The Romans customarily call such a man "comes privatarum" (count of the privy purse).

They say that both Felix and Elpidius, though they were Christians, apostatized from piety in order to curry favor with the impious emperor.

Julian relieved himself upon the holy table, and struck Euzoius on the cheek when he attempted to stop him.

He is said to have declared that the affairs of the Christians lie destitute of divine care.

Felix, having beheld the costliness of the sacred vessels (for Constantine and Constantius had had them made with lavish munificence),

said, "Behold, with what vessels the son of Mary is served!"

But not long afterward, they paid the penalty for these impious and mad presumptions.

For Julian was immediately seized by a grievous disease; his inward parts were consumed by putrefaction, and he no longer discharged his excrement through the organs appointed for that purpose, but his foul mouth, which had become the instrument of blasphemy, became the organ of excretion.

They say that his wife, resplendent in faith, spoke as follows to her husband:

"Husband, it is fitting to praise the Savior Christ, because through this affliction He has shown you His own power;

for you would never have known who it is you have been warring against, had He, in His accustomed long-suffering, not brought these God-sent blows upon you."

From these words, and from the sufferings pressing upon him, the wretched man, having understood the cause of his disease, entreated the emperor to restore the church to those who had been deprived of it;

but he did not persuade him, and he himself came to the end of his life.

Felix, too, suddenly receiving a God-sent scourge, discharged blood from his mouth both day and night, as the vessels of his body converged from every quarter toward that one part.

Thus, when all his blood had been spent, he too was extinguished and handed over to eternal death.

These men, then, paid these penalties for their impiety.

A certain young man, the son of a priest, though reared in impiety, at that time passed over into the company of the pious.

For a certain woman, notable for her piety and deemed worthy of the grace of the diaconate, was an acquaintance of this young man's mother.

Whenever he came with his mother (for he was still quite a young boy), she would greet him and exhort him toward piety.

And when his mother died, the young man kept coming to her and continued to enjoy his customary instruction;

having firmly taken her counsels to heart, he asked his teacher what means there might be by which he could both flee his father's superstition and partake of the truth proclaimed by them.

She told him that he must flee his father, and prefer above him the Maker of both himself and his father, and take refuge in another city where it would be possible to remain hidden and escape the hands of the impious emperor;

she promised that she herself would make provision for this.

"Well then," said the young man, "from now on I will come and entrust my soul to you."

His father had also come up with him, for he was a priest and accustomed to accompany the emperor.

For the two of them were temple wardens, who sprinkled the emperor's dishes.

So on the first day, he stood by the emperor's couch and, as was the custom, sprinkled the dishes and filled them with defilement; then, taking to flight at a run, he reached the city of Antioch, and came to that admirable woman.

"I have come to you," he said, "not having broken my promise;

do you now take care for my deliverance in both respects, and fulfill your promise."

So then she immediately rose up and led the young man to the man of God, Meletius;

he, for the time being, ordered him to remain upstairs in the lodging.

I heard these things related by the man himself, when he had already become an old man.

He added this too, that, having become inspired and filled with divine grace, he smashed all his father's idols and mocked their weakness;

but afterward, coming to his senses over what he had done, he feared his father's arrival, and besought the Lord Christ to grant assent and shatter the bolts and throw open the doors;

"for it was for Your sake," he said, "that I have both suffered and done these things."

"While I was saying this," he said, "the bolts fell out, and the doors were opened;

and I ran back again to my teacher."

"She dressed me in the guise of a woman, and, having seated me together with her in the carriage, brought me again to the divine Meletius."

"He delivered me to the bishop of Jerusalem (Cyril was bishop at that time), and thus, by night, we set out for Palestine."

After Julian's death, this man also guided his father to the truth;

for he taught us this too, along with the other things.

In this manner, then, these men, having been guided to the knowledge of God, obtained a share in salvation.

But Julian armed himself more boldly—or rather more shamelessly—against piety, wearing the mask of fair dealing while devising snares and traps that caught the deceived, leading them to ruin through impiety.

For loaves, meats, fruits, vegetables, and all other edible things were sprinkled with libations.

Seeing this, those who had obtained the name of the Savior groaned and lamented, abhorring what was being done, yet nonetheless partook, obeying the apostolic precept:

"Eat whatever is sold in the meat market, asking no question for conscience's sake."

"For You have delivered us up," they said, "to a lawless, apostate king, beyond all the nations that are upon the earth."

One of his table companions reported these words to him.

He immediately had those excellent men brought before him, and inquired what it was they had said.

They, taking the emperor's question as an occasion for boldness of speech, and having whetted their praiseworthy zeal, spoke as follows:

"Seeing everything filled with defilement, and both food and drink polluted by the accursed sacrifices,

we have lamented these things at home, and now, in your presence, we bewail them still;

for this alone is what we find grievous in your reign."

Having heard these words, he who was called by those like himself "the gentlest and most philosophical" stripped off the mask of fair dealing, and exposed the true face of impiety.

And having ordered bitter and cruel torments to be inflicted on them, he deprived them of their present life—or rather, he freed them from that wretched time, and procured for them crowns of victory.

But he attached to the punishment a pretext other than the piety for which they had been put to death—namely, insolence;

for he claimed that he was punishing them as men who had insulted their emperor.

He ordered this to be given out publicly, begrudging the champions of truth the title and honor of martyrs.

Of these, the one was named Juventinus, and the other Maximinus.

The city of Antioch, honoring these men as champions of piety, committed them to a costly shrine, and even to this day they are honored with an annual public feast.

Others too, among those in office and of the highest rank, using similar boldness, enjoyed crowns of equal honor.

For indeed that Valentinian, who a little later became emperor (he was at that time a tribune commanding the spearmen stationed about the palace), did not conceal the zeal he had for piety.

For that madman went dancing into the temple of Fortune, and on either side of the doors stood temple-attendants sprinkling those who entered with lustral water, purifying them beforehand as they supposed. And when Valentinian, who was walking before the emperor, saw a drop of it touch his cloak — he who, on account of this, was to obtain a kingdom of each sort — he struck the temple-attendant with his fist, declaring that he had been defiled, not purified.

But when the accursed one saw what had happened, he sent him away to a fortress situated near the desert, having ordered him to reside there.

But he, when a year and a few months had passed, received the empire as the reward of his confession; for the righteous Judge does not honor those who are careful for divine things only in that future life, but sometimes He also grants immediate recompense for good labors, confirming the things hoped for by the gifts now bestowed.

But the tyrant devised yet another scheme against piety.

For while distributing gold to the military ranks according to the ancient custom, he himself sat upon the royal throne, but contrary to custom he set up an altar full of burning coals, and placed incense upon a table.

And he commanded that each of those receiving the gold should first cast the incense upon the altar, and then receive the gold from his own right hand.

Most were entirely unaware of this trap;

but those who had learned of it beforehand, feigning illness, escaped that grievous snare;

others, coveting the money, made light of their own salvation;

and still others betrayed piety out of cowardice.

After that fatal distribution of money, however, some of those who had received the gold were feasting together at a certain banquet.

One of them, having received a cup, did not drink before making upon it the sign of salvation.

When one of his fellow-diners reproached him and said this was contrary to what had happened shortly before, he asked what among the things he had done was called contrary to it.

The other reminded him of the altar, the incense, and the denial that had taken place;

for these things were opposed to the Christian confession.

On hearing this, most of those at the feast cried aloud and lamented, and tearing out much of the hair of their heads, rose up from the banquet, and running through the marketplace cried out that they were Christians and had been deceived by imperial artifice, and sang a recantation, and struggled to reverse the defeat that had befallen them through ignorance.

that, having been defiled, they might receive purification through another fire.

These words, and whatever else similar to them was spoken by them, drove the wretch's fury to madness.

And first he commanded that their heads be cut off.

As they were being led outside the city, the multitude of the city followed, admiring them for their courage and marveling at their boldness on behalf of piety.

And when they reached the place where it was customary to punish criminals, the eldest of them begged the executioner to cut off first the head of the youngest of them all, lest, seeing the slaughter of the others, he should be overcome by fear.

And when the one had knelt upon the ground and the other had drawn his sword, someone came announcing a reprieve, and with a shout from a distance stopped the execution.

Then the youngest, vexed at being spared from the slaughter, said:

"Romanus, then," he said, "was not worthy to be called a martyr of Christ."

But that deviser of evil prevented the slaughter, being smitten with envy and grudging the athletes their glory; nevertheless he did not allow them to dwell in the cities, but sent them off to the farthest reaches of the Roman dominion.