Homily on the Forty Martyrs of Sebaste

1What satiety could there ever be in remembering the martyrs for someone who loves martyrs? For the honor we give to good fellow-servants proves our goodwill toward the common Master. It is clear that the one who welcomes brave men will not be left behind in imitating them when similar times come. Bless the martyr sincerely, and you become a martyr by choice: you depart this life without persecution, without fire, without scourges, and are counted worthy of the same rewards as they are.

For us, though, it is not one man set before us to admire, nor only two, nor does the number of the blessed reach only as far as ten. Forty men, holding one soul in divided bodies, displayed one shared breath and one concord of faith, one endurance in the face of dangers, and one resistance on behalf of the truth. All were alike to one another, equal in resolve, equal in contest. Therefore they were counted worthy of crowns of equal honor and glory.

What speech, then, could reach the worth of these men? Not even forty tongues would have been enough to hymn the virtue of so many men. And yet, even if only one were being admired, he would have been enough to overpower the strength of our words—let alone such a multitude, a military phalanx, a company hard to overcome, alike unconquered in wars and unapproachable in praises.

Come then, let us bring them into our midst through remembrance and make their benefit common to all who are present, displaying the men's brave deeds to everyone as if in a painting. For historians often mark out brave deeds in wars, and painters do as well—the one adorning them with words, the others engraving them on tablets—and both have stirred many toward courage. What the word of history presents through hearing, painting shows in silence through imitation.

So let us also remind those present of the virtue of these men, and, as it were, bring their actions before their eyes, and move the more noble and those close to them in resolve toward imitation. For this is the praise of martyrs: the call to virtue for those who have gathered. Words about the saints do not consent to be enslaved to the rules of encomium. For those who speak praises take the starting points of their praises from the world's resources; but for those to whom the world has been crucified, how can anything in it provide a starting point for renown?

The saints did not have one fatherland; each had set out from a different place. What then? Should we call them cityless, or citizens of the whole world? For just as in contributions to a common feast what each one puts in becomes common to all who contributed, so also for these blessed ones each one's fatherland is common to all, and all of them give their native lands to one another in exchange from every direction.

But why should we search out the lands that lie on the ground, when it is possible to consider their present city, which is what it is? The city of the martyrs, then, is the city of God. Its craftsman and builder is God: the Jerusalem above, the free one, the mother of Paul and of those like him. Their human lineage, one different from another; but their spiritual lineage is one for all.

2For their common Father is God, and they are all brothers—not born from one man and one woman, but fitted together into unity of mind with one another through the adoption of the Spirit and through love. They are a company made ready, a great addition to those who from eternity have glorified the Lord, not gathered one by one, but removed all at once. And what was the manner of their removal? These men, who excelled all their contemporaries in bodily size, in the prime of life, and in strength, were enrolled in the military registers. Because of their experience in war and their courage of soul, they already held the first honors from the emperors, and were famous among all for their virtue. But when that godless and impious proclamation was announced—that they must not confess Christ, or else face dangers—every kind of punishment was threatened, and great and beastly fury was stirred up by the judges of injustice against the devout. Plots and deceits were stitched together against them, and varied forms of torture were devised. The torturers were relentless: fire was made ready, the sword was sharpened, the cross was planted, the pit, the wheel, the whips. Some fled, some bowed down, some were shaken. Some, before the test, were terrified by the threat alone. Others, when they came near the horrors, grew dizzy. Still others entered the contests, but then, unable to endure to the end of their labors, gave up somewhere around the middle of the contest. Like men storm-tossed on the open sea, they shipwrecked even the cargo of endurance they already carried. Then these men—the unconquered and noble soldiers of Christ—came forward into the midst. The ruler displayed the emperor's letters and demanded obedience, but with a free voice, boldly and courageously, shrinking from nothing they saw and terrified by nothing threatened, they proclaimed themselves Christians. O blessed tongues, how many uttered that sacred sound! The air received it and was sanctified; the angels heard it and applauded; the devil and his demons were wounded; and the Lord recorded it in heaven. So each one came forward into the midst and said, "I am a Christian." And just as in the stadiums those who pass by for a contest speak their names and then move to the place of struggle, so these men then cast away the names given them at birth and each one announced himself by the name of the common Savior. And they all did this, each one joining himself to the one who had gone before. So there came to be one name for all of them: no longer "so-and-so" or "so-and-so," but all were proclaimed Christians. What then did the ruler do? He was clever and versatile, seeking to win them over at one moment with flattery and at another to turn them aside with threats. First he bewitched them with flattery, trying to slacken the tension of their devotion. "Do not betray your youth," he said, "and do not exchange this sweet life for an untimely death. It is absurd for men accustomed to excelling in wars to die the death of criminals." In addition to this he promised money. He offered honors from the emperor, distributions of offices, and out-generaled them with countless schemes. But when they did not yield to this attempt, he moved on to the other kind of device.

3He held out to them blows, and deaths, and the trial of incurable punishments. And what did the martyrs do in response? “Why do you bait us, fighter against God,” they said, “to abandon the living God and serve destructive demons by offering us your goods? Why do you give as much as you are eager to take away? I hate a gift that procures loss. I do not accept honor that is the mother of dishonor. You give money that remains behind, glory that fades. You make us known to the emperor, but you alienate us from the true King. Why do you offer us the little things of the world in such a stingy way? We have despised the whole world. The things that are seen are not worth the hope we long for. Do you see this heaven, how beautiful to see, and how great? And the earth, how vast? And the wonders in it? None of these equals the blessedness of the righteous. For these things pass away, but what is ours remains. I long for one gift: the crown of righteousness (2 Timothy 4:8). I am in a flutter about one glory: the glory in the kingdom of heaven. I am ambitious for the honor above. I fear the punishment in hell. That fire is fearful to me, but the fire threatened by you is a fellow-servant. It knows how to show reverence to those who despise idols. I count your blows as arrows of infants. For you strike the body; if it holds out longer, it is crowned more brightly, but if it gives up sooner, it departs, freed from such violent judges—you who, having received the service of bodies, still strive to rule over souls as well. And even though you are not preferred to our God, you are angry, as if you had been grossly insulted by us, and you hold out these fearful punishments, bringing against us the charge of devotion. But indeed you will not encounter cowardly men, nor life-loving men, nor easily terrified men, when it comes to love for God. We are ready to be racked, and tortured, and burned, and to accept every kind of torment. When that arrogant barbarian heard these things, he could not bear the men’s boldness. Boiling over with rage, he considered what device he might devise to make their death both long and bitter at the same time. He found a plan—and see how cruel it was. He examined the nature of the region, that it was freezing, and the season of the year, that it was winter. He watched for a night when the cold was at its worst, and when the north wind was blowing upon it. Then he commanded them all to be stripped naked and to die freezing under the open sky in the middle of the city. You all know, who have experienced winter, how unbearable this kind of torture is. It is not possible to describe it to others except to those who already have examples of what is said from their own experience. For a body that has fallen into cold is first all livid, as the blood freezes. Then it shudders and seethes, teeth chattering, fibers convulsing, and the whole mass involuntarily contracting. A sharp pain and unspeakable suffering reaches to the very marrow, and makes the sensation most distressing for those who are freezing. Then the extremities are destroyed, as if by fire, as the ends burn. For the heat is driven away from the extremities of the body and flees together to the depths. It leaves dead the parts from which it has departed, and gives pain to the parts into which it is crowded, as death approaches little by little through the freezing.

4So then they were condemned to pass the night in the open air. The lake beside which the city is settled, where the saints were carrying on this contest, had become like a plain fit for horses, because the ice had transformed it. It had become dry land by the cold, and it safely allowed the people nearby to walk over its back. Ever-flowing rivers were bound by the ice and their streams stood still. The soft nature of the water was changed into the hardness of stone. The sharp blasts of the north wind were driving every living thing toward death.

So then, when they heard the order—and consider here how unconquerable these men were—each one threw off even his last tunic with joy and went toward death through the cold, urging one another on as if in the seizing of spoils. “We are not taking off a garment,” they said, “but we are putting away the old man, who is being corrupted according to the desires of deceit (Ephesians 4:22; Colossians 3:9). We thank you, Lord, that with this garment we cast off sin together with it. Since we put it on because of the serpent, let us take it off because of Christ. Let us not cling to our garments because of the paradise we lost. What shall we give back to the Lord (Psalm 115:12 LXX / Psalm 116:12 Hebrew)? The Lord was stripped for our sake as well. What great thing is it for a servant to suffer what belongs to the Master? Or rather, we ourselves are the ones who stripped the Lord. For that was the soldiers’ outrage: they stripped him and divided his garments (Matthew 27:35). So let us wipe out the written accusation against us through our own actions. The winter is sharp, but paradise is sweet. The freezing is painful, but the rest is pleasant. Let us wait a little while, and the bosom of the patriarch will warm us. Let us exchange a whole age for one night. Let the foot be frostbitten, so that it may dance forever with the angels. Let the hand fall away, so that it may have boldness to be lifted up to the Master. How many of our soldiers have fallen in battle, keeping faith with a mortal king? And will we not give up this life for faith in the true King? How many have endured the death of criminals, caught in wrongdoing? And will we not endure death for righteousness? Let us not turn aside, fellow soldiers; let us not give our backs to the devil. They are flesh; let us not spare them. Since we must certainly die, let us die so that we may live. Let our sacrifice be before you, Lord; and may we be accepted, as a living sacrifice, pleasing to you, being wholly burned by this cold. The offering is beautiful, the whole burnt offering is new: it is wholly consumed not by fire, but by cold.”

Giving these encouragements to one another, and each one urging on the next, as if they were holding a forward post in war, they passed the night, bearing the present circumstances nobly, rejoicing in what they hoped for, and laughing at the adversary. One prayer belonged to them all: “We entered the stadium as forty; may we be crowned as forty, Master. Let not even one be missing from the number. The number is precious, which you honored with the fast of forty days, through which the law entered the world. Elijah sought the Lord for forty days in fasting and obtained the vision (3 Kingdoms 19:8 (1 Kings 19:8 Hebrew)).” Such was their prayer. But one of the number, his knees buckling before the terrors, deserted and went away, leaving behind unspeakable grief for the saints. But the Lord did not allow their prayers to go unfulfilled.

5The man entrusted with guarding the martyrs was warming himself nearby at some gymnasium, watching for what would happen, ready to receive any of the soldiers who fled over to him. For this too had been devised: that a bath was nearby, promising swift relief to those who changed their minds. What the enemy had maliciously contrived—finding a place for the contest where the ready comfort would weaken the steadfastness of the contestants—this very thing made the endurance of the martyrs shine more brightly. For it is not the one who lacks necessities who shows endurance, but the one who holds fast amid an abundance of enjoyment. As they were contending and he was watching for the outcome, he saw a strange sight: powers descending from heaven, distributing great gifts to the soldiers as if from a king. To all the others they divided the gifts, but one alone they left without a gift, judging him unworthy of heavenly honors—who, immediately giving up on the struggle, deserted to the enemy. A pitiful sight to the righteous: the soldier a fugitive, the champion a captive, Christ's sheep caught by wild beasts. And what was more pitiful still: he both missed eternal life and did not enjoy this present life, for his flesh dissolved at once when the heat struck him. The lover of life fell, having broken faith to no purpose. But the guard, when he saw him turn aside and run to the bath, put himself in the deserter's place, threw off his garments, and joined himself to the naked ones, crying out the same cry as the saints: "I am a Christian." By the suddenness of his change he astonished those present, filled up the number, and comforted the grief over the one who had weakened by his own addition—imitating those in battle line who, when the man in the first shield falls, immediately fill the gap in the phalanx so that their shield-wall is not broken by the missing one. Something like this he did. He saw the heavenly wonders, recognized the truth, fled for refuge to the Master, and was numbered with the martyrs. He restored the company of the disciples: Judas departed, and Matthias was brought in. He became an imitator of Paul—the one yesterday a persecutor, today preaching the gospel. He too had his call from above, not from men nor through a man. He believed in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ; he was baptized into Him, not by another but by his own faith, not in water but in his own blood. And so, as day was beginning, still breathing they were handed over to the fire, and the remains of the fire were cast into the river, so that the contest of the blessed ones passed through all creation. On earth they contended, in the air they endured, to fire they were handed over, the water received them. Theirs is the voice: "We went through fire and water, and You brought us out to refreshment" (Psalm 65:12 (Hebrew 66:12)). These are the ones who have taken hold of our region, like continuous towers providing security against the assaults of the enemy—not shutting themselves up in one place, but already visiting many districts and adorning many homelands. And the wonder is that they do not come to those who receive them divided one by one, but mixed with one another, unitedly they move in company.

6What a wonder! They do not fall short in number, nor do they admit any increase. If you divide them into a hundred, they do not leave their proper number; if you gather them into one, they remain forty, just as fire behaves. For fire passes to the one who lights from it, and yet remains whole with the one who has it; so the Forty are all together, and all are present with each one. This is ungrudging beneficence, grace that is not spent, ready help for Christians, a church of martyrs, an army of trophy-bearers, a company of those who glorify God. How much would you have toiled to find even one person to entreat the Lord on your behalf? Here are forty, sending up a harmonious prayer. Where two or three are gathered in the name of the Lord, there He is in the midst of them (Matthew 18:20). Where there are forty, who can doubt the presence of God? The one who is afflicted flees for refuge to the Forty; the one who rejoices runs to them—the one, to find release from hardships; the other, to keep his blessings secure. Here a devout woman praying for her children is heard, asking the return of a husband who is away, the salvation of one who is sick. Let your requests be made with the martyrs. Let the young men imitate those of their own age; let fathers pray to be fathers of such children; let mothers learn from the story of a noble mother. The mother of one of those blessed ones, seeing the others already perfected by the cold, while her own son was still breathing because of his strength and endurance of terrible things, and seeing the executioners leaving him behind as one who might change his mind, lifted him with her own hands and placed him on the cart on which the rest were laid and carried to the pyre—a true mother of a martyr. For she shed no ignoble tear, nor uttered anything low or unworthy of the moment, but said, “Go, my child, on the good journey with those of your own age, with your tent-companions. Do not be left behind from the company. Do not appear before the Master second to the others.” Truly a good shoot from a good root. The noble mother showed that she had nourished him with the teachings of devotion more than with milk. And the one so raised was thus sent forth by his devout mother; and the devil went away put to shame. For though he had stirred up all creation against them, he found everything defeated by the men’s virtue—the stormy night, the wintry homeland, the season of the year, the nakedness of their bodies. O holy company! O sacred band! O unbroken shield-wall! O common guardians of the human race! Good sharers of cares, co-workers in supplication, most powerful ambassadors, stars of the world, flowers of the churches. The earth did not hide you, but heaven received you; the gates of paradise were opened to you. A sight worthy of the army of angels, worthy of patriarchs, prophets, and the righteous: men in the very flower of youth, despising life, loving the Lord more than parents, more than children. At the very prime of life, they looked with contempt on this passing life, so that they might glorify God in their members; becoming a spectacle to the world, and to angels, and to men, they raised up the fallen, confirmed the wavering, and doubled the desire of the devout. All together they raised one trophy for devotion. With one crown of righteousness they were adorned, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory and power forever and ever. Amen.