GREGORY: Floridus, bishop of the Church of Tibur, whose love of truth and holiness is not unknown to your affection. He related to me that there was with him a certain priest named Amantius, a man of especial simplicity; whom he affirms to have this virtue, that after the manner of the apostles he lays his hand upon the sick and restores them to health, and however violent a sickness may be, at his touch it departs. He added that he has also this miracle, that in whatever place he may find a serpent of however monstrous fierceness, as soon as he has signed it with the sign of the cross, he destroys it, so that by the virtue of the cross which the man of God has made with his finger, it dies with its bowels burst asunder.
And if at any time a serpent should flee into a hole, he blesses the mouth of the hole with the sign of the cross, and immediately the serpent, now dead, is drawn out from the hole. This man of such great virtue I myself also took care to see, and when he had been brought to me, I wished him to remain a few days in the house of the sick, where, if any grace of healing were present, it might be more quickly proved. But there among the other sick lay a certain man out of his mind, whom the physicians call by the Greek word 'phrenetic.' When on a certain night he uttered great cries, namely as one insane, and disturbed all the sick with immense clamors, so that no one was there permitted to take sleep, the matter became very pitiable, because from one man's being ill, all fared the worse.
But just as I learned in detail, first from the most reverend man Florid the bishop, who at that time was staying there together with the aforesaid presbyter, and afterward from a boy who on that same night was serving the sick, that same venerable presbyter, rising from his own bed, silently approached the bed of the frenzied man, and laying his hands upon him he prayed. And at once, finding him better, he lifted him up and led him with himself to the upper part of the house, into the oratory, where he devoted himself to prayer for him more freely. And straightway he brought him back healed to his own bed, so that he uttered no further cries, nor any longer disturbed any of the sick with any shouting, nor did he further increase another's sickness, he who had perfectly recovered his own mind.
From this one deed of his we learned to believe all those other things which we had heard concerning him. PETER: Great is the edification of life, to see men doing such wondrous things, and to behold in their own citizens the heavenly Jerusalem upon earth. GREGORY: Nor do I think this should be passed over in silence, that almighty God deigned to show a miracle through Maximian His servant, now bishop of Syracuse, but at that time father of my monastery. For while, by the command of my pontiff, I was serving the ecclesiastical affairs in the palace of the city of Constantinople, that same venerable Maximian came to me there, drawn by charity, together with the brethren.
When he was returning to my monastery at Rome, being caught in the Adriatic Sea by an exceedingly great tempest, in an unmeasurable manner and by an unusual miracle he came to know, toward himself and all who were present with him, both the wrath and the grace of almighty God. For when, at their near death, the waves, raised up by the excess of the winds, raged, the rudder was lost from the ship, the mast was cut away, the sail was cast into the waves, and the whole hull of the ship, battered by the excessive billows, had been dissolved from all its joining. And so, as the gaps opened, the sea came in and filled the ship even up to the upper decks, so that it seemed not so much that the ship was within the waves as that the waves were now within the ship.
Then those sitting in that same ship, no longer troubled merely by their nearing death but by its very presence and sight, all gave one another the kiss of peace, received the body and blood of the Redeemer, each commending himself to God, that He would graciously receive their souls, whose bodies He had delivered over to so dreadful a death. But almighty God, who terrified their minds marvellously, also more marvellously preserved their life. For eight days that same ship, filled with water up to the upper decks, held its own course and stayed afloat; and on the ninth day it was brought into the port of the fortress of Cotrona. From it all came out unharmed, who were sailing with the aforesaid venerable man Maximian.
And when after them he too had gone out, forthwith the ship was sunk into the depth of that same port, as if, when they had disembarked, it had lost the buoyancy proportioned to its burden; and that which, full of men, had carried the waters upon the deep and had stayed afloat, when Maximian with his brethren had departed, could not carry the waters in the port without the men—so that hereby almighty God might show that it was His hand that had held it up when it was laden, since, empty and abandoned by men, it could not remain upon the waters. GREGORY: Also, nearly forty days ago, you saw with me the man of whom I made mention above (Chapter 15), a presbyter of venerable life named Sanctulus, who from the province of Nursia was accustomed to come to me every single year.
But from that same province a certain monk came three days ago, who struck me with grief at heavy tidings, for he announced that this same man had died. Of this man, therefore, though I recall his sweetness not without a sigh, yet now I relate his virtues without dread, which I came to know from the priests near him, endowed with wondrous truth and simplicity. And since among souls that love one another the intimacy of charity offers a great boldness, being often pressed by me out of that sweetness, he too was compelled to confess certain of the least of the things he had done.
For once upon a time, when the Lombards were pressing olives at the press, so that they should be made into oil, since he was of a joyful countenance and spirit, he brought an empty skin to the press, and greeted the labouring Lombards with a glad face, held out the skin, and, ordering rather than asking, told them to fill it for him. But the heathen men, who had laboured in vain the whole day and could not by pressing extract oil from the olives, received his words with restraint, and pursued him with insults. To them the man of the Lord replied with a still more cheerful countenance, saying: 'Pray for me thus, that you may fill this skin for Sanctulus, and thus he will depart from you.'
And when they saw that no oil was flowing from the olives, and beheld the man of God insisting that his skin be filled, being vehemently inflamed, they began to curse him with even greater reproaches of words. But the man of God, seeing that the oil in no way came out from the press, asked that water be given to him, which, as all looked on, he blessed, and cast into the press with his own hands. And immediately at that blessing so great an abundance of oil burst forth, that the Lombards, who before had long laboured in vain, filled not only all their own vessels but also the skin which the man of God had brought, and gave thanks, because he who had come to ask for oil, by blessing gave what he had requested.
At another time also a violent famine had lain upon every place, and the church of the blessed martyr Lawrence had been burned by the Lombards. The man of God, desiring to restore it, employed many craftsmen and several assisting labourers, for whom it was necessary that daily provisions be supplied to the workers without delay. But as the necessity of that same famine demanded, bread failed; and the labourers began urgently to seek their food, because through want they had not strength for the work. Hearing this, the man of God comforted them outwardly with words, promising what was lacking; but he himself was grievously distressed within, unable to provide the food which he promised.
But as he went about here and there in anxiety, he came to an oven, in which the neighbouring women had the day before baked bread, and there, stooping down, he looked in, in case perhaps some bread had been left by those baking. Then suddenly he found a loaf of marvellous size and of unusual whiteness; this indeed he took, but was unwilling to carry it to the craftsmen, lest perchance it belonged to another, and he should commit a fault as it were out of piety. And so he carried it around among the neighbouring women, and showed it to them all, and inquired whether it had been left over by any of them. But all who had baked bread the day before denied that this was theirs, and declared that they had brought back their own loaves from the oven in their full number. Then the man of the Lord went joyful with the one loaf to the many craftsmen;
he admonished them to give thanks to almighty God; and he made known that He had provided them with sustenance; and inviting them at once to a meal, he set before them the loaf he had found. When they had been sufficiently and fully satisfied, he gathered up more fragments from it than the loaf itself had been. These on the next day also he brought to them for a meal; but that which remained over to him from the fragments even surpassed those fragments which had been set before them. And so it came to pass that for ten days all those craftsmen and labourers were satisfied from that one loaf, and both ate of it daily, and daily there remained over from it what could be eaten on the morrow, as though the fragments of that bread grew by being eaten, and restored the mouths of those consuming it. PETER:
A marvellous thing, and in the likeness of the Lord's own work vehemently to be wondered at by all. GREGORY: He Himself, Peter, fed many from one loaf through His servant, who from five loaves satisfied five thousand men by His own self; who multiplies the few grains of seed into countless harvests of grain; who also brought forth the very seeds from the earth, and at once created all things out of nothing. But lest you wonder any longer at what the venerable man Sanctulus outwardly did by the power of the Lord, hear, by the power of the Lord, what manner of man he was within. For on a certain day a certain deacon, captured by the Lombards, was held bound, and those very men who had captured him were planning to kill him.
But as the day was drawing toward evening, Sanctulus the man of God asked from those same Lombards that the deacon should be released and his life granted to him, which they utterly refused they could afterward do. And when he saw that they had resolved upon his death, he asked that the man should be handed over to him for safekeeping. To him they at once answered: 'We give him indeed to you to guard, but on this condition interposed, that if he flees, you yourself shall die in his stead.' The man of the Lord, gladly accepting this, took the aforesaid deacon into his own trust; and when at midnight he saw that all the Lombards were sunk in heavy sleep, he roused him and said: 'Arise, and flee quickly; may almighty God set you free.' But that same deacon, not forgetful of his promise, answered, saying:
'I cannot flee, Father, for if I flee, without doubt you yourself will die in my stead.' But Sanctulus the man of the Lord compelled him to flee, saying: 'Arise and go; may almighty God deliver you; for I am in His hand, and they can do only so much to me as He Himself shall permit.' And so the deacon fled, and the surety, as though deceived, remained in the midst. When therefore morning had come, the Lombards, who had given the deacon to be guarded, came and demanded him whom they had given; but the venerable presbyter answered that he had fled. Then they said: 'You yourself know better what is fitting.' But the servant of the Lord steadfastly said: 'I know.' They said to him: 'You are a good man; we do not wish to kill you by various tortures; choose for yourself the death you will.'
To them the man of the Lord answered, saying: 'I am in the hand of God; slay me by that death by which He Himself shall permit me to be slain.' Then it pleased all the Lombards who were present there that they should behead him, so that without grievous torment they might end his life by a swift death. And so, when it became known that Sanctulus, who among them was held in great honour for the reverence of his holiness, was to be killed, all the Lombards who were found in that place came together (savage as they are, of exceeding cruelty) joyful to the spectacle of death. And so battle-lines stood round about.
The man of the Lord was led into the midst, and out of all the strong men one was chosen, of whom there was no doubt but that with one blow he would strike off his head. The venerable man, therefore, being led among the armed men, ran at once to his own arms; for he asked that a little leave to pray might be granted him. And when this had been granted him, he cast himself upon the ground and prayed. And while he prayed a little longer, the chosen executioner kicked him with his heel that he might rise, saying: 'Arise, and with bended knee stretch out your neck.' The man of the Lord rose, knelt, and stretched out his neck; but with neck outstretched, gazing at the drawn sword against him, he is reported to have said this one thing publicly: 'Holy John, receive it.'
Then the chosen executioner, holding the unsheathed sword, raised his arm on high with a strong effort to strike, but could in no way bring it down, for suddenly it grew stiff, and with the sword raised toward heaven the arm remained immovable. Then the whole throng of the Lombards which was present at that spectacle of death, turned to the applause of praise, began to marvel and to venerate the man of God with fear, because it had clearly shone forth of what holiness he was, who had bound the arm of his executioner in the air. And so, being asked to rise, he rose; being asked to heal the arm of his executioner, he refused, saying: 'I will in no way pray for him, unless he first give me an oath that with this hand he will not slay a Christian man.'
But that same Lombard, who, so to say, by stretching out his arm against God had lost it, being compelled by his own punishment, was forced to swear that he would never kill a Christian man. Then the man of the Lord commanded, saying: 'Put down your hand.' He at once put it down. And immediately he added: 'Return the sword to its sheath.' And at once he returned it. All therefore, recognizing a man of such great virtue, eagerly wished to offer him as a gift the oxen and beasts of burden which they had plundered; but the man of the Lord refused to accept this gift, and sought instead the gift of a good reward, saying: 'If you wish to grant me anything, give me all the captives whom you hold, that I may have those for whom I ought to pray for you.' And so it was done;
and all the captives were released with him, and, by the disposing of heavenly grace, when one man offered himself to death for one, he freed many from death. PETER: A marvellous thing; and although I too have learned this from others, yet truly I confess that as often as it is told me, it is made new to me. GREGORY: Marvel at nothing in this matter concerning Sanctulus, but weigh, if you can, what that spirit was which held his so simple mind and raised it up to so great a height of virtue. For where was his soul, when he so steadfastly resolved to die for his neighbour, and for the temporal life of one brother despised his own, and stretched out his neck beneath the sword? What power of love, then, held that heart, which did not shudder at its own death for the salvation of a single neighbour?
We know for certain that this same venerable man Sanctulus did not even know well the very rudiments of letters. He was ignorant of the precepts of the Law; but because charity is the fulfilment of the Law (Rom. XIII, 10), he kept the whole Law in the love of God and neighbour; and what he did not know outwardly in knowledge, he lived within in love. And he who perhaps had never read what the Apostle John said concerning the Redeemer: 'Because, as He laid down His life for us, so we also ought to lay down our lives for the brethren' (1 John III, 16), knew that so sublime an apostolic precept rather by doing it than by knowing it. Let us compare, if you please, with this our unlearned knowledge his learned ignorance. Where this our knowledge lies low, there his instruction stands eminent.
We who are empty of virtues speak of virtues, and as if placed among fruit-bearing trees we smell the apples but do not eat them; he knew how to pluck the fruits of the virtues, although he knew not how to smell them in words. PETER: What do you suppose, I pray you, is the reason that all good men are taken away, and that those who could have lived for the edification of many either cannot be found at all, or at least now grow rare in every way? GREGORY: The malice of those who remain deserves that those who could have been of profit should be swiftly taken away; and when the end of the world draws near, the elect are removed, lest they see worse things. For hence the prophet says: 'The just perishes, and there is no one who considers it in his heart; and men of mercy are gathered away, because there is none who understands' (Isa. LVII, 1).
Hence again it is written: 'Open, that those who tread it down may go out; take away the stones from the way' (Jer. L, 26). Hence Solomon says: 'A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them' (Eccl. III, 5). The more, therefore, the end of the world presses on, the more it is necessary that men, as stones, be gathered for the heavenly building, in order that our Jerusalem may grow up to the measure of its construction. Yet we do not believe that all the elect are so taken away, that only the perverse remain in the world; because sinners would never return to the lament of penitence, if there were no examples of the good to draw their minds. PETER: In vain do I complain that the good are taken away, when I see even the wicked perish in droves.