Homily on the Martyr Barlaam

1In earlier times the deaths of the saints were adorned with lamentation and tears. Joseph wept bitterly for Jacob when he was dead, and the Jews mourned the death of Moses with no small grief. They honored Samuel too with many tears. But now we leap for joy at the deaths of the holy ones. For after the cross, the nature of sorrowful things has been changed. No longer do we escort the deaths of the saints with dirges, but we dance with inspired choirs around their tombs. For death is sleep for the righteous—or rather, a departure to a better life. That is why martyrs leap for joy as they are being slain. The longing for the more blessed life makes the pain of slaughter dead. The martyr does not see the dangers but the crowns; he does not shudder at the blows but counts the prizes; he does not look at the executioners scourging him below, but imagines the angels praising him above; he does not consider the temporary nature of the dangers, but the eternity of the rewards. Even now among us they enjoy a bright earnest, applauded by the inspired praises of all, and netting countless multitudes from their tombs. This is what the noble Barlaam has accomplished today. For the martial trumpet of the martyr has sounded, and it has gathered the soldiers of piety, as you see. The athlete of Christ, now laid out, has been proclaimed, and he has stirred up the assembly of the Church. And as the Master of the faithful said, “Whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live” (John 11:25). The noble Barlaam has died, and he gathers festal assemblies; he has been consumed in the tomb, yet he summons us to a banquet. Now is the time for us to cry out, “Where is the wise man? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age?” (1 Corinthians 1:20). Today a rustic is our unconquerable teacher of piety—a man whom the tyrant dragged off as easy prey, but after testing him found an unconquerable soldier; a man he laughed at for his mangled speech, but shuddered at when he showed angelic youthful vigor. For his manner did not share in the broken speech of his tongue's instrument, nor was his reasoning seen limping along with his syllables. Rather, he was a second Paul, saying with Paul, “Even if I am untrained in speech, I am not in knowledge” (2 Corinthians 11:6). The scourging executioners grew numb, but the martyr was found more vigorous. The hands of those who flayed him were weakened, but the reasoning of the one being flayed was not bent. The whips loosened the harmonies of his sinews, but the tension of his faith was tightened all the more. His sides were dug into and worn away, but the philosophy of his spirit was in full bloom. Most of his flesh had been put to death, yet he flourished as one who had not yet begun the contests. For when love of piety takes hold of the soul in advance, every form of warfare becomes laughable to it, and all those who flay it for the sake of the beloved give it pleasure rather than pain. The longing of the apostles bears witness to me, making the whips they once received from the Jews delightful. For they went, it says, rejoicing from the presence of the council, because they had been counted worthy to be dishonored for his name (Acts 5:41). Such is the soldier we praise today. He considered tortures a joy, and thought he was being struck with roses by the whips. He fled the outrages of impiety as though they were arrows, and reckoned the judge’s fury a shadow of smoke. He laughed at the raging ranks of bodyguards, and danced among the dangers as though they were crowns. He rejoiced in the blows as though they were honors, and leaped for joy at the more severe punishments as though they were brighter prizes. He spat at drawn swords, and received the hands of the executioners as though they were softer than wax. He embraced the torturer’s wood as a saving wood, and delighted in the locks of the prison as though they were meadows. He took pleasure in the inventions of tortures as though they were varieties of flowers, and he possessed a right hand stronger than fire—the final device that his enemies brought against him.