Days of the Church Calendar

On Palm Sunday, the Triumphal Entry of our Lord Jesus Christ into Jerusalem to suffer willingly. A homily by St. John Chrysostom.

Just as we have now crossed the deep sea of the fast, let us, O faithful, undertake with even greater zeal the struggle of this week, and pass on from the miracles of the Lord to still greater wonders, now that we have been illumined by the raising of Lazarus. With Mary and Martha, let us offer Christ, our Master, honor and praise as He cometh, and, like the children with branches, let us cry out together with one voice: “Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord: God is the Lord, and hath shewed Himself unto us” (Psalm 117:26–27).

Tell us plainly, O prophet, who is this that cometh in the name of the Lord? Hearken, brethren, to the words of the prophet Isaiah, who speaketh of Him: “Behold, a Virgin shall conceive in her womb, and shall bring forth a Son, and they shall call His name Emmanuel” (Isaiah 7:14). He it is who came down from heaven, and for our sake became poor of His own will, that we through His poverty might be made rich (2 Corinthians 8:9). He it is who was begotten of the Father before all ages, and in the last times was born of the Virgin God-bearer. He it is who raised up Lazarus from the dead, though four days buried. He it is who came willingly to His Passion in the name of the Lord.

But the wicked Jews, moved by envy, conspired against Him in the very place of His glory, plotting not only to kill Him, but also Lazarus, because many, for his sake, believed on the Lord.

Today the whole earth is filled with joy at His coming: it streweth His path with fragrant flowers and gathereth people in gladness. And we, having prepared the branches of the garden of virtue, let us cry aloud in song: “Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord!”—the God of our fathers, who cometh to trample the devil, to destroy death, to break the kingdom of hades, and to free those held in its bonds!

For this cause He came willingly to His Passion, desiring by the Cross to destroy the tormentor, and to bring life to those who had died. That same Cross hath He given us as a weapon against the devil and against our enemies. For by making the sign of it, we utterly destroy all the devil’s deceit. And therefore we say: “Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord!”

He came to save the fasters and to reward each according to their labor. “For in My Father’s house,” saith He, “are many mansions” (John 14:2), assigned to each according to their works. Let us not lose them for the sake of the short-lived pleasures of this life, which pass away like a shadow, and vanish as smoke.

The coming of Christ draweth near. Let us hasten, brethren, while yet we have time, lest the doors of repentance be shut—that is, lest death overtake us. Let us now flee to repentance, lest we hear that fearful answer: “Now, wretched man, dost thou repent, when there is no longer time for repentance?”

Therefore, beloved, let us in this life cast from us the habit of wrath, let us quench the devil’s hatred, let us forsake fraternal enmity. Let us be merciful and generous to those in need. For no one departeth from this world with wealth or glory, but only with their deeds. Riches and glory remain behind, while our body entereth the tomb, to be consumed by worms, and the bones are laid bare.

Let us then rouse ourselves, brethren, unto good works, and complete this season of fasting without negligence—for the crowns are always given at the end to those who labor. If one beginneth a work and doth not complete it, he shall be put to shame. Let us then finish well, that we may receive the full reward.

But if one abstaineth from bread, yet beareth anger, such a one is like a beast—for the beast also eateth not bread. If one refraineth from drink and meat, and sleepeth on the bare earth, yet harboreth malice and worketh injustice, let him not boast—for he is worse than the beasts, which have neither wrath nor envy nor do unrighteousness.

Rather, let us, O faithful, restrain our bodily desires, that we may be made like unto the angels. Behold, the Passion of Christ approacheth—His willing suffering on our behalf. Let us cleanse soul and body and mind, that we may be made worthy partakers of His divine Supper, crying out unto Him and saying: “Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord,” who came willingly unto His Passion for our sake, and shall again come from heaven to judge the living and the dead—that is, the righteous and the sinners—and to render unto every man according to his works.

To our God be glory.

Before the Ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ into heaven, He gave the apostles the commandment to go forth to preach, in order to convert the entire human race to the Christian faith: “Going, teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Mt. 28, 19). An unspeakably difficult task the Lord entrusted to His twelve disciples, whom He chose not from among the most wise and noble, but from fishermen—simple and little-educated people. But by the grace of the Holy Spirit, it was given to them to comprehend the Divine teaching and themselves to become teachers of others, to go to all ends of the earth and to conquer the unyielding hard-heartedness of the Jews, the reasoning of the Greeks, the crude power of the Romans.

What weapon, then, did Christ give to His disciples, sending them into the world for such a great battle? He wanted the apostles to take with them neither sword nor spear, and even neither bag nor staff; He commanded them to take with them the Holy Gospel and with it to pass everywhere: “Going into all the world, preach the Gospel to every creature” (Mk. 16, 15). And their preaching was heard by the whole world, the Church of Christ was raised up, and faith in Christ shone forth. The heirs of the apostles—the teachers of the Church and the pastors—spread the Word of God to all ends of the earth: “Their sound went out into all the earth and their words to the ends of the universe” (Ps. 18, 5).

Thus, the only weapon by which impiety was conquered in the world and the knowledge of God was spread was the Word of God. The almighty Word, which was born from the Father of Wisdom, created everything: heaven and earth, the visible and the invisible. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (Jn. 1, 1). “By the word of the Lord the heavens were established and by the spirit of His mouth all their power” (Ps. 32, 6),—thus sings the prophet David. The Word of God is life, salvation, and resurrection for those who accept it with faith, as Christ says: “Amen, amen I say to you, that the hour comes, and now is, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God and having heard will live” (Jn. 5, 25). And so, we see that the Word of God is life and power, “The word of God is living and active” (Heb. 4, 12).

“I will open My mouth in parables,”—says the Lord through the prophet (Ps. 77). Simple examples of parables Jesus Christ brings in order to set forth hidden wisdom in simplicity. Parables are a treasury of reason, a source of the knowledge of truth. “The wise will listen and will increase knowledge, and the understanding will find wise counsels,”—it is said in the Bible about the parable (Prov. 1, 5). The parable makes the inaccessible accessible, the complex—simple, the secret—manifest. “Meditating in the law of the Most High, he will seek the wisdom of all the ancients, and will be instructed in prophecies. He will seek the hidden things of parables and will live in the enigmas of parables,”—says the wise Sirach (Sir. 39). The entire history of humanity is like a parable that shows the providence of God for our salvation. The Gospel parables give us instruction about eternal life, spiritual health, strengthening, and correction of the mind. Parables teach us high morality, humility, mercy, and other virtues.

But inattention to the Gospel word can be condemnation for us if, having heard the parable, we reject with a cold mind its wisdom and instruction and do not bring forth good fruit, as the Lord says: “He who has ears to hear let him hear” and “Take heed how you hear” (Mt. 23, 3). We hear the words of the Gospel with our ears, but does this word reach our heart? And if it reaches, then, touching it, does it revive us, bring some fruit, and will we live according to this Divine Word? After all, knowledge is not good in itself, but when it is applied in deed, it brings its useful fruit. “For not the hearers,”—it is said,—“but the doers of the law will be justified” (Rom. 2, 13). Today’s Gospel parable speaks to us about the various actions of the Divine Word on the hearts of people.

A sower went out to sow his seed. When he sowed, some seed fell by the way and was trampled, and birds flew in and pecked it; some fell on rocky places, where there was little earth, it sprang up at once and having sprung up withered, because it had no moisture and did not send roots deep; some fell among thorns, and weeds grew and choked the good shoots; some fell on good earth and brought abundant fruits. (Lk. 8, 5-8).

The Lord explained the meaning of this parable “About the sower”: the seed is the Word of God; the sower is Jesus Christ Himself and those who preach the Word of God; the earth is the human heart, a good heart is good earth, and an evil, impure one is barren earth.

Let us pay attention, brethren: the Lord did not say that He went out to plow the verbal fields, to harrow the earth or to pull out wild and weed grass, that is, to prepare our hearts and souls. The Lord expects from us that we ourselves will prepare our soul for the acceptance of the Word. Therefore the prophet John the Forerunner calls us: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make His paths straight” (Mt. 3, 3). Our preparation begins with repentance, confession, with abstinence from evil deeds. But to those who do not wish to prepare themselves in this way for sowing and bringing forth fruits, the Lord threatens judgment: “Every therefore tree that does not make good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire” (Mt. 3, 10). These words are a sentence for those who live in sin, do not repent, and do not bring forth good fruits. Such will be uprooted from this life and the future one and sent to the unquenchable fiery hell.

Those listeners of the Word of God who listen to it only with bodily ears, without heartfelt attention, are likened by the Lord to the earth by the road. Usually the earth by the path is trampled and hard, and the scattered seeds do not sprout. These are those listening, to whom afterward comes the devil and takes away the word from their heart, so that they do not believe and are not saved. Why does he steal and carry away, since these seeds anyway lie on dead earth? The devil knows that the soul can come to life, come to itself, and the seed then can sprout. But the devil distorts true faith, clutters the seeds, mixing into them falsehood, which he introduces through heretics and various sectarians. So also the devil himself tried to tempt Jesus Christ with a word torn from the context of the Bible. When from the desert he lifted Jesus onto the roof of the temple and said: “Throw Yourself down from here,” for it is written: “He will command His angels concerning You to guard You, on hands they will bear You, lest You strike Your foot against a stone.” And if instead of the Lord there had been a person having in the soul thorns of pride, thirsting for flattery and praises, then he could be tempted and throw himself down. But the Lord answered the tempter: “You shall not tempt the Lord your God” (Mt. 4, 7). Therefore we also will be “quick to hear,”—says the apostle—but mainly “to fulfillment” (Jas. 1, 19).

Further the Lord speaks about the seed sown on stone. To stony soil are likened the souls of people who are carried away by the preaching of the Gospel, sometimes even sincerely and pure-heartedly, find pleasure in listening to it, but they are not able to change their way of life, to depart from their favorite sins that have become habitual, to wage battle with temptations, to endure any sorrows and deprivations—in the battle with temptations they are tempted, fall in spirit and betray their faith and the Gospel commandments.

The heart hardened and stiffened in sinful habit is incapable of nourishing the root of the seed, which withers; and it is said: These have no root. The hearts of such people are not warmed by love for God; as with ice, they are bound by self-love and pride. And although such people can speak about virtue, but the Word of God cannot deepen into their hearts and bring good fruit, and the Word in the soul of the self-loving withers as soon as a sacrifice of truth, righteousness, and virtue is required. And in the first centuries of Christianity, and after the schism of the 17th century—the unsteady in faith and in love for Christ and truth, subjected to heavy persecutions and sufferings for the name of Christ, sometimes fell away from the faith. But our pious ancestors-Old Believers in firm faith brought and multiplied the fruits of the piety of Holy Rus. In the present time, when there are no open persecutions for faith, torments for the name of Christ, the spread false values, sinful customs, prejudices, frivolity, seductive entertainments and pleasures remove and tempt many Christians from the “narrow path” of following Jesus Christ and fulfilling His commandments. Brethren and sisters! Let us remember that, having decided to seek the Kingdom of God, we must not “turn back,” but to the end be faithful to the Lord Jesus.

And, finally, the obstacle to the fruit-bearing of the Word of God—thorns of vanity and worldly pleasures. “And other seed fell in the midst of thorns, and the thorns grew and choked it.” This happens from cares and wealth. But not the necessary worldly needs are called cares and condemned by the Savior, and not wealth is the cause of the fruitlessness of the Word of God. Both do not hinder either listening or preserving and fulfilling the word of the Lord. But only vain attachment to the earthly and temporal hinders, which fills and entangles, like thorns, our heart, suppressing in it the actions of the Word of God, chokes in it every good feeling, leaving no time and opportunity for satisfying spiritual needs. Even more dangerous thorns—these are our passionate attractions, which the Savior calls “pleasures of life.” Their root is found in the depth of our “fallen” nature, in the depth of the sinful human heart: “The law in my members, warring against the law of my mind and captivating me by the law of sin,”—says the apostle Paul (Rom. 7, 23).

The fruits of these thorns are the works of the flesh, about which the apostle says that those doing them “will not inherit the Kingdom of God” (Gal. 5, 20). Those relaxing themselves with gluttony and excess in wine-drinking and entertainments vainly accept the Heavenly seed—the Word of teaching, because they will not be able to appear as a fruitful field for God. Saint Gregory Palamas writes: “We know that when there is much moisture in the fields, they are not able to bring fruit. So also the heart immersed in pleasure and intoxication, in fornication and impurity, is impossible to bring fruit worthy of God. Let everyone who because of a passionate and pleasure-loving life has nurtured thorns and weeds of sin, through repentance pull them out by the root and thereby prepare himself for the perception of the saving seed, and, having accepted it, grow and bring fruit—eternal life.”

Thus, it is obvious that for abundant fruit-bearing of the Word of God it is required not only to listen reverently and accept it, but also necessarily to prepare and cleanse one’s own heart, so that it is capable of cultivating fruits of holiness and righteousness. In the parable the Lord says: But other seed fell on good earth, and sprouted and brought fruit a hundredfold. And those on good earth, these are they who with good heart and good, having heard the word hold it and bring fruit in patience.

There are people whose heart is deep, which was plowed deeply—by suffering and compassion, mercy and love, grief and deprivations. In such a heart the seed of the Word of God takes root, as on good earth, it sends deep roots, which, like with moisture, are revived by the experience of the virtuous life of this person, sprouts and brings fruit.

One must not think that for good people the devil does not try to steal the treasure of the Word of God sown in their hearts, and would not want to cool their hearts with self-love, to choke with the thorn of vanity and fleshly lusts. Those about whom the Lord speaks as about good earth try to deepen in their heart the Gospel word, applying efforts for crushing the heart’s hardness with fear of death and God’s judgment, moisten the sown word with tears of contrition about their sins. They with attention and prayer reverently meditate on the Word of God, with repentance, the fire of love for God and fiery desire for eternal life in the Heavenly Kingdom burn in themselves unclean thorns of passionate desires and attractions to worldly vanity.

The Lord requires from the listeners of the Word attention: “He who has ears to hear let him hear.” But how many Christians today hear the Word of God, but do not attend to it, do not fulfill it and do not correct themselves. We must beware lest for contempt of the word of God that terrible spiritual hunger overtake us, which kills not bodies but souls, about which the prophet Amos says: “And I will send hunger on the earth, not hunger for bread, not thirst for water, but hunger for hearing the word of the Lord” (Amos. 8, 11).

Let us think about the words of Christ: “Take heed how you hear!”—let us reflect how we hear: is the seed sown in vain, not for judgment and condemnation for us—or for eternal life? Let us think what our soul represents? Where does the grain of the word of Christ fall? Into the thorn of worldly vanity, which chokes it and kills? On stone, where it grows and dies from sinful heat and heart dryness? Or by the road, whence the wind of little-faith and carelessness carries it away and where it will be plundered by the predator, the enemy of our salvation. Or will the seed fall into a good heart? And if our heart is not fruitful, then let us set before ourselves the question: how then to crush the stone of little-faith, how to revive the dried-up soul scorched by sin, how to warm the heart cooled by self-love?

Our life on earth is short, the time of sowing and bringing fruits is little. Our life will pass, and we will stand at the threshold of the judgment gates, and then it will be terrible to appear with nothing. The farmer who did not labor in time to cultivate the earth awaits hunger, for without labor there is no harvest. Every careless Christian who has done little good and has not labored for the salvation of his soul awaits a bitter fate. Let us fear the terrible consequences of laziness and carelessness. Let us in patience labor and learn, repent and pray, so that for the short days of our life to bring fruit a hundredfold, to reap for us eternal life and inherit paradise bliss according to the promise of the Lord, Who says: “Blessed are those hearing the word of God and keeping it” (Lk. 11, 28).

On Holy and Great Wednesday of Passion Week, concerning the most beautiful Joseph: how he revealed himself to his brothers, and how his father Jacob came to Egypt with all his household. When Potiphar, who had cast Joseph into prison, beheld that most glorious sight—how Joseph sat in Pharaoh’s chariot in great honor—he was greatly afraid. He withdrew in shame from the nobles and hurried home, trembling with fear. Entering his house, he said to his wife: “Knowest thou, O woman, what a wondrous sign hath occurred today, one that filleth us with great dread? Joseph, our servant, hath been made ruler over us and over all the land of Egypt! Behold, he sitteth with glory in Pharaoh’s chariot and is honored by all. I, for fear and trembling, could not appear before him, but quietly slipped away from the nobles.” Hearing this, Potiphar’s wife said to her husband: “Fear not, but I shall this day confess openly unto thee my sin, which until now I have hidden. I loved Joseph passionately. Therefore I adorned myself daily and hourly, seeking to entice him and draw him to myself. Yet I could not attain that wicked desire—for he rejected all my words and would not hearken unto me. I seized him, trying to force him to lie with me, but he fled outside. The garment I showed thee then was the one he left behind when he escaped from my hand and ran out into the street. And now I see that I have become the occasion of his power and great glory. For had I not loved Joseph, and had he not been thrown into prison, he would not have attained such honor. Therefore, I am now worthy to be praised by him, for I was the cause of his exaltation. Joseph is righteous and holy; he will not remember the evil that brought him good. Rise, then—go and bow before him together with the nobles.” Then Potiphar arose and went in shame and bowed before Joseph along with all the nobles. After this, the seven years of abundance came to an end, and famine began to spread across all the land. Jacob and his sons grew faint with hunger in the land of Canaan. When he heard that grain was being sold in Egypt, he said to his sons: “Why do ye look one upon another? Behold, I have heard that there is grain in Egypt. Go down thither and buy for us a little food, that we may live and not die.” So ten of Joseph’s brothers went down to buy grain in Egypt. And when they came, they bowed down before Joseph with their faces to the earth. When Joseph saw his brothers, he recognized them—but they did not recognize him. He spoke harshly to them and said: “From whence come ye?” They said, “From the land of Canaan, to buy food.” But he said to them, “Ye are spies; to see the nakedness of the land are ye come.” They replied, “Nay, my lord, but to buy food are thy servants come. We are all brothers, the children of one man. We were twelve in number; one of us was torn by wild beasts, being our father’s beloved, and our father still mourneth him to this day. The youngest remaineth now with our father.” Joseph said to them, “This is what I said unto you, that ye are spies. Ye shall not depart hence unless your youngest brother, of whom ye spake, be brought unto me. Then I will believe that ye are honest men and not spies.” So he cast them into prison for three days. Then, taking Simeon, he bound him before their eyes, and released the others. He commanded their sacks to be filled with grain, their money to be returned into their sacks, and provisions to be given them for the road. Thus he sent them away. When they had departed with their grain and found the money in their sacks, they were greatly afraid. Returning to their father Jacob in the land of Canaan, they reported to him all that had happened. Then Israel said, “Why have ye dealt so ill with me, as to tell the man that ye had yet another brother?” And they said, “The man questioned us straitly about ourselves and our kindred, saying, ‘Is your father yet alive? Have ye another brother?’ And we answered him according to the truth. How could we know that he would say, ‘Bring your brother down’?” But Jacob said, “My son shall not go down with you. His brother is dead, and he alone is left. If mischief befall him on the way, then shall ye bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.” As the famine worsened, Jacob said to his sons: “Go again and buy us a little food.” But Judah answered him, saying: “If thou wilt not send our brother with us, we will not go. For the man solemnly warned us, saying, ‘Ye shall not see my face, except your brother be with you.’” Then Jacob said: “If it must be so, take gifts and double money with you, and take also your brother, and arise, go again unto the man. And take back with you the money that was found in your sacks—it may have been an oversight. And may my God grant you mercy before the man, that he may release your other brother and Benjamin.” So they arose and went down into Egypt and stood before Joseph. When Joseph saw them, and Benjamin with them—his brother born of the same mother—he said to the steward of his house: “Bring these men into the house, and kill an animal, and prepare it, for these men shall dine with me at noon.” The steward did as Joseph had commanded and brought the men into Joseph’s house. When they saw that they were brought into the house, they were afraid and said: “Because of the money that was returned in our sacks before, they have brought us in, to lay an accusation upon us and to fall upon us and take us as slaves, along with our donkeys.” So they drew near to the steward of Joseph’s house and spoke with him at the door, saying: “O sir, we indeed came down before to buy food. But when we came to the lodging place and opened our sacks, behold, every man’s money was in the mouth of his sack—our money in full weight. And we have brought it back with us. And we have brought other money to buy food. We know not who put the money in our sacks.” But the steward said: “Peace be unto you, fear not. Your God, and the God of your father, hath given you treasure in your sacks: I had your money.” And he brought out Simeon unto them. Then he brought them water to wash their feet and gave fodder to their donkeys. They prepared their gifts until Joseph came at noon, for they had heard that they would eat there. When Joseph came into the house, they brought him the gifts which they had in their hands and bowed themselves to the ground. And he asked them: “Is it well with you? Is your father well, the old man of whom ye spake? Is he yet alive?” They answered, “Thy servant our father is in good health; he is yet alive.” And Joseph said, “Blessed be that man of God.” And bowing themselves again, they worshipped. Then Joseph lifted up his eyes and saw Benjamin, his brother of the same mother, and said: “Is this your younger brother, of whom ye spake unto me?” And he said, “God be gracious unto thee, my son.” And Joseph’s heart was moved for his brother; his inward affections were stirred, and he sought a place to weep. He entered his chamber and wept there. Then he washed his face and came out, restraining himself, and said: “Set on bread.” And they set food before him by himself, and for them separately, and for the Egyptians who ate with him separately; for the Egyptians may not eat with the Hebrews, for that is abomination unto them. They sat before him—the eldest according to his birthright, and the youngest according to his youth—and the men marvelled at one another. Then he took portions from his own table and gave unto them. But Benjamin’s portion was five times as much as any of theirs. And they drank and made merry with him. Then Joseph commanded his steward, saying: “Fill the men’s sacks with food, as much as they can carry, and put every man’s money in the mouth of his sack. And put my silver cup in the sack of the youngest, along with his grain money.” And he did as Joseph had spoken. When morning dawned, the men were sent away with their donkeys. They had not gone far out of the city when Joseph said to his steward: “Arise, follow after the men, and when thou hast overtaken them, say unto them: ‘Wherefore have ye rewarded evil for good? Why have ye stolen my silver cup? Is not this it from which my lord drinketh, and whereby he divineth? Ye have done evil in so doing.’” So the steward overtook them and spoke those words. And they said: “Why speaketh my lord such words as these? God forbid that thy servants should do according to this thing! Behold, the money which we found in our sacks’ mouths we brought again unto thee from the land of Canaan. How then should we steal silver or gold out of thy lord’s house? With whomsoever of thy servants it be found, let him die, and we also will be my lord’s slaves.” He replied, “Let it be according to your words: he with whom it is found shall be my slave; the rest of you shall be blameless.” Then they quickly laid down every man his sack and opened it. And he searched, beginning at the eldest and ending at the youngest. And the cup was found in Benjamin’s sack. Then they tore their garments, and Benjamin lifted up his voice with weeping, saying: “God of my father knoweth, beholding all things invisibly and searching the hearts, that I have not stolen the cup now found in my sack. Woe is me, woe is me, O Rachel my mother! What hath come upon thy child? Joseph, as they say, was devoured by beasts—and now I have been made a thief in a foreign land and shall remain in bondage.” Then each of them loaded his sack onto his donkey and they returned to the city. Judah and his brothers went in to Joseph and fell before him to the ground. Joseph said to them: “What deed is this that ye have done? Know ye not that such a man as I can certainly divine?” And Judah said: “What shall we say unto my lord? or what shall we speak? or how shall we clear ourselves? God hath found out the iniquity of thy servants: behold, we are my lord’s servants, both we and he also with whom the cup is found.” But Joseph said: “God forbid that I should do so: the man in whose hand the cup is found, he shall be my servant; and as for you, get you up in peace unto your father.” Then Judah came near and said: “Let thy servant, I pray thee, speak a word in my lord’s ears, and let not thine anger burn against thy servant. Thou didst ask thy servants, saying, ‘Have ye a father or a brother?’ And we said: ‘We have a father, an old man, and a child of his old age, a little one, and his brother is dead. He alone is left of his mother, and his father loveth him.’ And thou saidst unto thy servants: ‘Bring him down unto me, that I may see him.’ And we said to my lord: ‘The lad cannot leave his father: for if he should leave his father, his father would die.’ But thou saidst unto thy servants: ‘Except your youngest brother come down with you, ye shall see my face no more.’ When our father sent us again to buy food, we said to him: ‘We will not go down, unless our youngest brother go with us.’ And he said: ‘Ye know that my wife bare me two sons. One went out from me, and I said, Surely he is torn in pieces; and I saw him not since. And if ye take this also from me, and mischief befall him, ye shall bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.’ Now I became surety for the lad to my father, saying: ‘If I bring him not unto thee, then I shall bear the blame to my father forever.’ Now therefore, let me abide instead of the lad a bondman to my lord, and let the lad go up with his brothers. For how shall I go up to my father, and the lad be not with me? lest peradventure I see the evil that shall come on my father.” Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all that stood by him, and he cried: “Cause every man to go out from me.” And there stood no man with him while Joseph made himself known unto his brethren. And he wept aloud and said: “I am Joseph. Doth my father yet live?” And his brothers could not answer him, for they were troubled at his presence. Then Joseph said unto his brothers: “Come near to me, I pray you.” And they came near. And he said: “I am Joseph your brother, whom ye sold into Egypt. Now therefore be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither: for God did send me before you to preserve life.” Then he said: “Haste ye, and go up to my father, and say unto him, ‘Thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath made me lord of all Egypt: come down unto me, tarry not. And I will nourish thee—for yet there are five years of famine—lest thou and thy household and all that thou hast come to poverty.’ Tell my father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that ye have seen. And bring him down quickly unto me.” And he fell upon the neck of Benjamin his brother and wept; and Benjamin wept upon his neck. And he kissed all his brothers and wept over them. Then Joseph gave them wagons according to the commandment of Pharaoh, and gave them provision for the way. To all of them he gave changes of raiment; but to Benjamin he gave three hundred pieces of silver and five changes of garments. And to his father he sent likewise ten donkeys laden with the good things of Egypt, and ten she-donkeys laden with corn and bread and meat for his father by the way. Then he sent his brothers away, and they departed. And he said unto them: “See that ye fall not out by the way.” They departed from Egypt and came into the land of Canaan unto Jacob their father. And they told him, saying: “Joseph is yet alive, and he is governor over all the land of Egypt.” And Jacob’s heart fainted, for he believed them not. Being pierced again with sorrow, he said: “Why do ye trouble my soul? That sorrow for Joseph, little quenched in me, ye would now stir up again?” But they told him all the words that Joseph had spoken to them. And when Benjamin came near and said to him: “Truly, these words are so,” Jacob saw the wagons that Joseph had sent to carry him, and the spirit of Jacob their father revived. And Israel said: “It is enough. Joseph my son is yet alive: I will go and see him before I die.” And Israel rose up with all that he had and came into Egypt. When Joseph heard that his father was coming, he harnessed his chariot and went out to meet Israel his father. And when Jacob saw Joseph approaching, he cast aside the burden of old age and dismounted from his chariot. But Joseph came on foot, and all the nobles with him. And as he drew near to his father Jacob, he fell upon his neck and wept greatly. Then Israel said to Joseph: “Now let me die, since I have seen thy face, because thou art yet alive.” And after seventy years, Jacob died in Egypt and was gathered to his fathers. Joseph fell upon his father’s face and wept bitterly over him, and kissed him. He commanded his servants, the embalmers, to prepare his father’s body for burial. The embalmers embalmed Israel, and forty days were fulfilled for him; for so are the days of embalming counted. And Egypt wept for him seventy days. When the days of mourning were past, Joseph spoke to Pharaoh’s household, saying: “If now I have found favor in your eyes, speak, I pray you, in the ears of Pharaoh, saying: ‘My father made me swear, saying, “In the grave which I have digged for me in the land of Canaan, there shalt thou bury me.” Now therefore let me go up and bury my father, and I will come again.’” Pharaoh said, “Go up and bury thy father, according as he made thee swear.” So Joseph went up to bury his father. With him went all Pharaoh’s servants, the elders of his house, and all the elders of the land of Egypt, as well as Joseph’s household, his brothers, and all his father’s house. Only their flocks and herds they left in the land of Goshen. And there went up with him chariots and horsemen, and it was a very great company. And they came to the threshing floor of Atad, which is beyond the Jordan, and there they mourned with a great and very sore lamentation. And he made a mourning for his father seven days. And when the Canaanites saw the mourning at the threshing floor of Atad, they said: “This is a grievous mourning to the Egyptians.” Wherefore the name of that place was called Abel-Mizraim, which is beyond Jordan. His sons did for him as he had commanded them: they carried him into the land of Canaan and buried him in the cave of Machpelah, which Abraham bought as a possession for a burial place from Ephron the Hittite, before Mamre. Then Joseph returned to Egypt, he and his brothers and all who had gone up with him to bury his father. After the burial of their father, Joseph’s brothers, seeing that Jacob was dead, said among themselves: “Peradventure Joseph will remember the wrong we did him and will repay us for all the evil we did unto him.” So they came before Joseph and said to him: “Thy father did command before he died, saying: ‘So shall ye say unto Joseph, Forgive, I pray thee now, the trespass of thy brethren, and their sin; for they did unto thee evil.’ Now therefore, we pray thee, forgive the trespass of the servants of the God of thy father.” And when Joseph heard these words, he wept. Then they came near again and said: “Behold, we are thy servants.” And Joseph said unto them: “Fear not: for am I in the place of God? But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive. Now therefore fear ye not: I will nourish you and your little ones.” And he comforted them, and spake kindly unto them. Thus Joseph and his brothers, and all his father’s house, dwelt in Egypt. Joseph lived one hundred and ten years. He saw Ephraim’s children to the third generation, and also the children of Machir the son of Manasseh were brought up upon Joseph’s knees. And Joseph said unto his brothers: “I die: and God will surely visit you, and bring you out of this land unto the land which He sware to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.” And Joseph took an oath of the children of Israel, saying: “God will surely visit you, and ye shall carry up my bones from hence.” So Joseph died, being one hundred and ten years old, and they embalmed him and laid him in a coffin in Egypt. To Christ, through all these things, be glory, with the Father and the All-Holy Spirit—to Him be honor and dominion, now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

On Holy and Great Tuesday of Passion Week, concerning that most beautiful Joseph: how the Ishmaelites sold him to Potiphar, and how he came to reign over Egypt. When Joseph’s brothers sold him, they brought a goat, slaughtered it, and dipped Joseph’s robe in the blood. They then sent it to their father Jacob, saying: “We have found this robe cast upon the mountains, and we have recognized it: this is the robe of Joseph, our brother, and we are all in sorrow because of him. Therefore, father, we have sent to thee this many-colored robe of Joseph, for we have not found our brother. Recognize it for thyself, whether it is thy son’s robe; for we have all recognized that it is Joseph’s.” When Jacob saw the robe of his son, he cried out with weeping and bitter lamentation, saying: “This robe is my son’s. A wicked beast hath devoured my son!” And with sobs he lamented: “Why was I not consumed in thy place, my son? Why did not that beast meet me instead, to be filled with my flesh, and leave thee alive, my son? Why did that beast not tear me apart? Why was I not its food? Woe is me! Woe is me! My womb is torn apart for Joseph’s sake! Woe is me! Woe is me! Where was my son slain, that I might go and tear my gray hairs for his beauty? I no longer wish to live, not seeing Joseph. I am the cause of thy death, my child. I, my child, have slain thee, having sent thee into the wilderness to visit thy brothers with the flocks. I shall now weep, my child, and mourn without ceasing, until I descend to the grave, my son. I shall place thy robe in the tomb with me, Joseph, ever before my tearful eyes. Behold, once again thy robe compels me to a new lamentation, my son: for it is whole and unharmed, and like a garment never worn. A beast hath not devoured thee, but thou wast stripped by the hands of men and beaten. For if, as thy brothers said, a beast had devoured thee, thy robe would have been torn to pieces, for a beast does not first undress its prey and then feed on its flesh. If, perchance, it had first stripped thee and only afterward devoured thee, then thy robe would have been left unbloodied. But on thy robe there is no sign of claw marks, nor of teeth—then whence is this blood upon thy robe? If there had been but one beast in the wilderness, I would have but one lamentation and one weeping: that I mourn for Joseph and weep over his robe. But now there are two griefs and two sorrows. I shall bitterly weep over the robe—how it was taken off, and how my child was devoured. Let me die, Joseph, my light and my support! Let thy robe descend with me into the grave, for I wish no longer to behold the light of this world, my son Joseph!” Meanwhile, the Ishmaelites, having taken Joseph, brought him diligently into Egypt, thinking that by his beauty they might gain much gold from some nobleman. And as they passed through the city, they were met by Potiphar, a eunuch of Pharaoh and captain of the Egyptian guard. When he saw Joseph, he asked them, saying: “Tell me, merchants, whence is this young man? For he beareth not the same appearance as ye do—ye are all Ishmaelites, but this one is most comely.” They answered him, saying: “He is indeed of noble birth and exceedingly wise, this youth.” Then Potiphar, giving them the price they asked, bought Joseph from them with affection. He brought him into his house and tested him, desiring to know his way of life. Now Joseph was a true branch of the noble seed of the righteous Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. He grew in virtue and was well-ordered in all things in Potiphar’s house. He lived with modesty—in sight, in speech, and in chastity—always keeping before his eyes the Holy God, the All-Seeing, the God of his fathers, who had delivered him from the pit of death and from the hatred of his brothers. Yet his heart remained sorrowful for his father Jacob. When Potiphar observed the conduct of the young man—his wisdom and faithful service—he entrusted everything he had into Joseph’s hands. He concerned himself with nothing in his household, save only the bread that he ate at his table. For his master saw that the Lord was with him, and that whatever he did, the Lord made it to prosper in his hands. And the Lord blessed the house of the Egyptian for Joseph’s sake, and the blessing of the Lord was upon all that he had, both in the house and in the fields. But the wife of his master, seeing that Joseph was handsome and wise, was wounded in her heart by a devilish lust and longed greatly to be with him. She sought to drag that pure and living fountain of chastity into the pit of adultery. Every day she devised many schemes to seduce the young man—changing her garments at all hours, washing and anointing her face, adorning herself with jewelry, casting glances inspired by Satan, and laughing with shameless boldness, flatteringly speaking to the righteous man like a serpent. But she destroyed herself more than him with these wicked displays, attempting to entrap the soul of the innocent one. But Joseph, shielded by the fear of God, would not even entertain a thought of her. And when she saw that, despite all her beautifications, her efforts were in vain, she became all the more inflamed with desire and utterly consumed, not knowing what more to do. At last she resolved to approach him with shameless words, enticing him as the serpent did Eve, to pour out upon him the venom of impurity. She said without shame: “Lie with me; fear not anything, but be bold toward me, that I may delight in thy beauty, and thou in my charms. Many servants are at our disposal, and thou rulest over the whole household; none shall dare enter or overhear our deeds. But if it be for fear of my husband that thou dost refrain, then I shall kill him, giving him poison.” But he, unconquered in both soul and body, did not sink in the midst of this storm, but rejected her words outright, preserved blameless by the fear of God. To every such devilish snare, Joseph replied with noble and chaste words, and said with meekness: “I shall not commit this sin with thee, my lady: for I fear God. My master hath entrusted to me all his possessions—both in the house and in the fields—and there is nothing that is not under my authority, save thee, my lady. It would not be right to betray such great love from my master. And how can I do this evil thing and sin against God, who seeth the secrets of the heart?” These were the holy words Joseph spoke to his mistress, both teaching and forbidding her. But she did not heed the counsel of the righteous one. Instead, she burned all the more with the boiling passion within her, watching for the right hour and awaiting an opportune time to compel Joseph. Seeing the shamelessness of the woman, how she was determined to seduce him, Joseph lifted his eyes to the God of his fathers and often prayed, saying: “O God of my fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, deliver me from this beast! Thou seest, Lord, the madness of this woman—how she seeketh to destroy me through this secret and wicked act. O Master, Thou who didst deliver me from death at the hands of my brothers, deliver me now also from this wicked beast, that I may not be separated from my fathers, who greatly loved Thee, O Lord.” And opposing her impure desire, he cried out to Jacob: “O Jacob, my father, pray earnestly for me to God. Pray for me, father, for a great battle hath arisen against me—one that seeketh to separate me from God. This death from a woman is worse than that which was dealt to me by my brothers. That death destroyed the body, but this one would sever the soul from God. Yet I know that thy prayers, O father, have ascended to the Holy God on my behalf, and because of them I was delivered from the death of the pit. Now again pray to the Most High, that I may be delivered from this deadly pit now dug for thy son—by one who hath neither shame nor fear of God. To my brothers I went, and they were like wild beasts—like savage wolves they tore me away from thee and delivered me into Egypt by the hands of strangers. And now again a beast hath met me. Pray, O righteous one, for thy son Joseph, that I die not in soul before our God.” When Joseph would not obey his mistress’s desire to be with her, she shamelessly seized the chaste young man and tried to force him into sin. But seeing her brazen shamelessness, Joseph fled immediately out the door, leaving his garment in her hand. Thus he broke through all the snares of the devil, like some noble eagle who, seeing the hunter, flies up to the heights. So too did Joseph escape the trap, lest he perish through word and deed alike. But the woman, seeing that he had escaped, was seized with terror and became exceedingly wrathful. She began plotting how to slander the righteous man with wicked words to her husband, thinking that, if her husband heard these things, he would grow angry and put Joseph to death. She said within herself: “Far better that Joseph die and I be freed from this turmoil. I cannot bear to see such beauty in my house, especially when he has spurned me.” And so, calling the male and female servants, she said to them: “Did you see what this Hebrew slave of ours has done? My husband put him in charge of the entire house, and now he wishes to lie with me shamelessly. It was not enough for him to rule over the household—he even sought to take me away from my husband!” Then, when her husband came home from the palace, she took Joseph’s garment and showed it to him, pretending to be chaste and falsely accusing Joseph: “Was it thou who commanded thy Hebrew slave to mock and insult me, thy wife, and do such a thing unto me?” And her husband, hearing her words, believed the unjust slander of his wife and was enraged with fury. Taking Joseph, he cast him into prison—into the place where the king’s prisoners were kept—without remembering the blessings of God which had come upon his house and lands for Joseph’s sake, nor making any inquiry into the truth of the matter. Instead, he pronounced an unrighteous judgment against him at once. Yet the Lord was with Joseph, and He poured out mercy upon him, granting him favor in the sight of the chief jailer. And the jailer entrusted the prison into Joseph’s hands, along with all the prisoners held there: for all things were under Joseph’s care, because the Lord was with him. At that time, while Joseph was in prison, two men of Pharaoh’s household offended the king of Egypt: the chief baker and the chief cupbearer. Pharaoh grew angry with his servants and threw them into the same prison where Joseph was held. And after a few days passed, both men had a dream on the same night, each with its own meaning. In the morning, Joseph came to them and saw that they were troubled. He asked them: “Why are your faces so downcast today?” They answered him: “We have dreamed a dream, and there is no one to interpret it.” And Joseph said unto them, “Do not interpretations belong to God? tell me them, I pray you.” Then the chief cupbearer told his dream to Joseph: “In my dream, there was a vine before me; and on the vine were three branches. As it budded, it blossomed and brought forth clusters of ripe grapes. And Pharaoh’s cup was in my hand, and I took the grapes and pressed them into the cup, and gave the cup into Pharaoh’s hand.” And Joseph said to him: “This is the interpretation: the three branches are three days. Within three days shall Pharaoh remember thy office and restore thee to thy former rank, and thou shalt once again place Pharaoh’s cup in his hand, as thou didst when thou wast his cupbearer.” When the chief baker saw that the interpretation was good, he said to Joseph: “In my dream, I beheld three baskets of bread upon my head. In the upper basket were all manner of baked goods that Pharaoh eats, and the birds of the air were eating them out of the basket on my head.” Joseph answered and said: “This is the interpretation: the three baskets are three days. Within three days shall Pharaoh lift up thy head from off thee, and hang thee on a tree, and the birds shall eat thy flesh from thee.” Then Joseph said to the chief cupbearer: “Remember me when it is well with thee, and show kindness unto me, and make mention of me unto Pharaoh, and bring me out of this prison. For I was stolen away from the land of the Hebrews, and here also I have done nothing that they should put me into this dungeon.” O holy seed! O chosen seed! O blessed one! Why seekest thou help from a man who shall die? Hast thou forsaken God and turned to man? Hast thou grown weary of God’s help? Why art thou faint of heart? It is God who giveth kingdoms and glory when He willeth. The more thou endurest tribulation, the greater shall be thy crown of victory. And it came to pass on the third day, which was Pharaoh’s birthday, that he made a feast for all his servants. And he remembered the chief cupbearer and the chief baker among his servants. He restored the chief cupbearer to his office again, and he gave the cup into Pharaoh’s hand. But he hanged the chief baker, just as Joseph had interpreted to them. But the chief cupbearer did not remember Joseph—he forgot him. After two full years, Pharaoh dreamed a dream: he stood by the river, and behold, there came up out of the river seven cows, beautiful in appearance and fat in flesh, and they fed in the meadow. Then seven other cows came up after them, ugly and thin, and they fed beside the others, and devoured them. Then he saw a second dream: and behold, seven ears of corn came up upon one stalk, full and good. And then seven thin ears, blasted by the east wind, sprung up after them, and the thin ears devoured the seven good ears. Pharaoh awoke in the morning, and his spirit was troubled. So he called for all the magicians of Egypt and all the wise men, and he told them his dreams, but none could interpret them for him. Then the chief cupbearer remembered Joseph, and said to Pharaoh: “As he interpreted to us—me and the chief baker—so it came to pass. Me he restored to mine office, and him he hanged.” Pharaoh sent for Joseph and brought him out of the dungeon, and said to him: “I have dreamed a dream, and there is none that can interpret it. But I have heard say of thee, that thou canst understand a dream to interpret it.” And Joseph answered Pharaoh and said, “It is not in me: God shall give Pharaoh an answer of peace.” Pharaoh then told Joseph his dreams. And Joseph, having heard them, said to him: “Pharaoh’s dream is one and the same: what God is about to do He hath showed unto Pharaoh. The seven good cows and the seven good ears are seven years of plenty. And the seven lean cows and the seven thin ears are seven years of famine. The dream was repeated unto Pharaoh twice, because the thing is established by God, and God will shortly bring it to pass. Now therefore let Pharaoh look out a man discreet and wise, and set him over the land of Egypt. Let Pharaoh appoint officers over the land, and take up the fifth part of the produce during the seven plenteous years. Let them gather food under Pharaoh’s authority, and store it in the cities, to preserve it for the seven years of famine that shall come, that the land perish not through famine.” This saying pleased Pharaoh and all his servants. And Pharaoh said unto them: “Can we find such a one as this, a man in whom the Spirit of God is?” And Pharaoh said unto Joseph: “Forasmuch as God hath shown thee all this, there is none so discreet and wise as thou art. Thou shalt be over my house, and according unto thy word shall all my people be ruled: only in the throne will I be greater than thou.” And Pharaoh said to Joseph: “See, I have set thee over all the land of Egypt.” And Pharaoh took off his ring from his hand, and put it upon Joseph’s hand, and arrayed him in vestures of fine linen dyed in scarlet, and put a gold chain about his neck. He made him ride in the second chariot which he had, and they cried before him, “Bow the knee!” and he made him ruler over all the land of Egypt. To our God be glory, now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.

On the same Great Friday of Passion Week: a homily on the taking down of the Lord from the Cross, His burial, and the lamentation of the Most Holy Mother of God. Today let us praise the noble Joseph together with the myrrh-bearing women, for he ministered to the body of Christ after the Crucifixion. The Evangelist calls him a rich man, who came from Arimathea. “He also was a disciple of Jesus,” it says, “and waited for the kingdom of God.” And at the time of the voluntary and saving Passion of the Savior, having seen the terrible signs in creation—the darkening of the sun and the trembling of the earth—Joseph was filled with fear and wonder. Coming to Jerusalem, he found the body of Christ still hanging on the Cross, pierced, and with it His Mother Mary, standing there with the one disciple entrusted to her, wailing bitterly from the sorrow of her heart. And thus she cried aloud: “Creation mourns with Me, My Son, beholding Thy unjust death. Woe is Me, My Child, My Light and Fashioner of all creation—how shall I lament Thee now? Shall I weep for the blows to Thy cheek, the strikes upon Thy face and back, the bonds and prison, or the spittings upon Thy holy and righteous countenance, which were inflicted by the lawless in return for Thy good deeds? Woe is Me, My Child! Though innocent, Thou wast mocked, and hast tasted death upon the Cross. How did they crown Thee with thorns, and give Thee gall and vinegar to drink? And still more—they pierced Thy most pure side with a spear. Heaven was horrified, and the earth trembled, unable to bear the boldness of the Jews. The sun was darkened, the rocks were split open, revealing the stone-heartedness of the Jews. I behold Thee, My beloved Child, hanging naked upon the Cross, lifeless and without light, lacking form or beauty—and for this I am pierced with sorrow in My soul. I would have preferred to die with Thee; I cannot endure to see Thee lifeless. From this moment, joy shall never again touch Me, for My Light, My Hope, and My Life—My Son and My God—has been extinguished upon the Tree. Where now, My Child, is the glad tidings once spoken by Gabriel, when he said: ‘Rejoice, O thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee’? He called Thee King and Son of the Most High, the Savior of the world, the Life-Giver to all, and the One who taketh away sin. But now I see Thee numbered among criminals, crucified between two thieves, pierced in the side with a spear, and dead. Therefore am I crushed with bitter grief. I do not wish to go on living, but to go before Thee into Hades. For now I have been deprived of My Expectation, My Joy, and My Gladness—My Son and My God. Woe is Me! Not even at Thy wondrous birth did I suffer as I do now, O Master. My very womb is torn with pain as I behold Thy body nailed to the Tree. Glorious was Thy birth, O Jesus—but now terrifying is Thy death. Thou alone didst pass through the Virgin’s womb without corruption, preserving the seal of My virginity. Thou didst make Me the Mother of Thy Incarnation, yet didst also preserve Me a virgin even afterward. I know that Thou sufferest for Adam—but My soul is seized with sorrow, and I weep bitterly, marveling at the depth of Thy mystery. Hear, O heaven, and sea, and give ear, O earth, to the cry of My weeping: behold, your Creator suffereth at the hands of the high priests! The only Righteous One is slain as a lawless man for the sake of sinners. Today, the prophecy of Symeon has come upon Me: for now the spear pierces My soul, as I behold Thy torment at the hands of the soldier. Woe is Me—whom shall I call to weep with Me? With whom shall I share the outpouring of My tears? For all have abandoned Thee, Thy disciples and friends, who once rejoiced in Thy wonders. Where is the company of the seventy disciples? Where are the chief apostles? One of them betrayed Thee to the Pharisees for silver. Another, out of fear, denied Thee before the high priest, swearing an oath that he did not even know Thee as a man. Only I, Thy handmaiden, O my God, remain here weeping, standing with the guardian of Thy words and Thy beloved disciple. Woe is Me, O Jesus—Thy most precious Name! How can the earth even remain standing, bearing Thee as Thou hangest naked upon the Cross—Thou who didst lay its foundation upon the waters at the beginning? Thou who didst give sight to many blind men, who didst raise the dead by Thy word and by the movement of Thy divine power!” Come, and see the mystery of God’s providence—how the One who gives life to all was put to death by an accursed death. Hearing this, Joseph drew near to the Mother, who was weeping bitterly. When Mary saw him, she spoke to him tenderly: “Hasten, noble Joseph, go to Pilate, that lawless judge, and ask to take down from the Cross the body of thy Master—My Son and my God. Go quickly and precede Me, thou who sharest in Christ’s teaching, thou secret apostle, companion of the Kingdom of God, and ask for that lifeless Body which is nailed to the tree and pierced in the side.” “Suffer with Him,” she said, “faithful one, and for this thou shalt receive a double crown after the Resurrection of Christ: honor and veneration from the ends of the earth, and eternal life in heaven.” Joseph was moved to tears by her sorrowful words. He did not say, “The priests will rise up against me and persecute me; the Jews will stir up trouble and stone me; the Pharisees will plunder my wealth; I shall be cast out of the synagogue.” He said none of these things, but considered them as nothing. He paid no regard to his own life, that he might gain Christ. With boldness he entered and approached Pilate, and said, “Give me, O governor, the body of that Stranger Jesus, who was crucified between two thieves, slandered by the high priests out of envy, and mocked unjustly by the soldiers. Give me the body of that Jesus, whom the scribes called the Son of God, and whom the Pharisees named the King. It was He of whom thou didst command the inscription to be placed above His head, reading: ‘This is Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.’ O Pilate, give me the body of Him whose disciple betrayed Him to the priests for silver—the very One whom the prophet Zechariah foresaw and wrote of, saying: ‘Give Me My price, or refuse it’; and they set down thirty pieces of silver, the price of Him that was valued, whom they of the children of Israel did value. I ask for the body of Him of whom Caiaphas prophesied that year, declaring it was better for one man to die for the whole world. His prophecy was not his own, but he was high priest that year. Of such men the prophet Jeremiah said: ‘Many shepherds have ruined My vineyard.’ And again David said of them: ‘The rulers of the people gathered themselves together against the Lord and against His Christ.’ Solomon, too, spoke of them: ‘They devised and were deceived, for their malice blinded them. They said among themselves: Let us capture the Righteous One, let us wear Him out with mockery and wounds, and condemn Him to a dishonorable death.’ I ask for the body of Jesus—the one who answered thy inquiry, saying: ‘I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life’; and, ‘Thou couldest have no power at all against Me, except it were given thee from above.’ It was because of Him that thy wife begged thee, saying: ‘Have thou nothing to do with that just man: for I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of him.’ O Pilate, give me the body of the Crucified One, the One whom, when He entered Jerusalem, children met with palm branches, crying: ‘Hosanna to the Son of David!’ At the sound of His voice, even Hades trembled, and released the soul of Lazarus, who had already lain four days dead. It was of Him that Moses wrote in the Law: ‘Ye shall see your Life hanging before your eyes.’ I desire the lifeless body of Him whose Mother bore Him as a virgin, without knowing a man. Of Him the prophet Isaiah said to Ahaz: ‘Behold, a virgin shall conceive in her womb, and shall bring forth a Son, and they shall call His name Emmanuel.’ Of Him also David prophesied, saying: ‘They pierced My hands and My feet; they numbered all My bones.’ Give me, O governor, the body of Jesus who died upon the Cross, of whom thou thyself didst say to the Jews who demanded His death: ‘I am innocent of the blood of this just person.’ Then thou washed thy hands and had Him scourged, and gave Him over to death. Of Him the prophet said: ‘I gave My back to the smiters, and My cheeks to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not My face from shame and spitting.’ O Pilate, I ask for the body of that Nazarene—at whose name demons fled from the possessed, crying out: ‘What have we to do with thee, Jesus, Thou Son of God? Art thou come hither to torment us before the time?’ It was also of Him that God the Father Himself bore witness from heaven, when He was baptized in the Jordan, saying: “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” Of Him the Holy Spirit spoke through Isaiah: “He was led as a sheep to the slaughter by lawless men, and was delivered up unto death.” O Pilate, give me His body to take down from the Cross. I desire to lay Him in my own tomb, in which no one has yet been laid. There is no benefit to you in a dead body. All that was prophesied of Him has now been fulfilled. “Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows… and with His stripes we are healed.” He was “numbered with the transgressors,” and they said, “Let us destroy the memory of Him from the earth, and let His name be remembered no more.” Therefore, God desired to remove sorrow from His soul and to grant Him the inheritance of the strong. It is written of Him: “And by the blood of Thy covenant, Thou hast set free Thy prisoners out of the pit wherein is no water.” When Pilate heard all these things spoken by Joseph, he marveled. He summoned the centurion and asked whether Jesus, who had been crucified, was already dead. Learning from the centurion that He was, he gave the body to Joseph to bury as he wished. Then Joseph bought a linen shroud and took down the body of Jesus from the Cross. Nicodemus also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about a hundred pounds’ weight, and they anointed the body of Jesus and wrapped it in the linen. And Joseph cried aloud, saying: “O Christ, Sun that never setteth, Creator and Lord of all creation, how shall I touch Thy most pure body, which is untouchable even to the heavenly powers who minister unto Thee with fear? With what kind of linen shall I wrap Thee, who coverest the heavens with clouds and clotheth the earth in mist? What ointments shall I pour upon Thy most pure and holy body—Thou to whom Persian kings once brought gifts with fragrant offerings and fell down to worship as God, foreseeing Thy death for the whole world? What funeral hymns shall I sing at Thy departure, to Thee whom the Seraphim ceaselessly praise with silent voices on high? How shall I bear Thee in my mortal hands—Thou who invisibly bearest all creation, O Lord? How shall I lay Thee in my humble tomb—Thou who with a word didst establish the heavens, and who restest upon the Cherubim with the Father and the Holy Spirit? Yet, all of this Thou dost willingly endure by Thy providence. For Thou goest down to Hades in order to bring Adam and Eve, fallen through transgression, back into Paradise—and together with them, raise the dead by the power of Thy divinity. Therefore, proclaiming these things, I bury Thee, my merciful God, as I have been taught by the Holy Spirit: “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us.” And they laid Him in the tomb, and rolled a great stone before the entrance of the tomb. And the Pure Virgin wept, saying:

“From this moment, joy shall never again touch Me. For My Light and My Gladness has descended into the tomb. O women bearing myrrh, why do you stand still? Weep and lament bitterly with Me, for My Light and yours has been slain, and is now laid in the tomb. Now I have been deprived of My Hope, My Joy, and My Gladness—of My Son and my God. Woe is Me, My heart is pierced with sorrow. O Sun that never setteth, eternal God, Creator of all, and Fashioner of the world—how hast Thou entered the tomb? Didst Thou not speak Thy word unto Thy handmaiden, O Word of God? Wilt Thou not show compassion, O Lord, on the one who gave Thee birth? I think now that I shall never again hear Thy voice, nor behold the beauty of Thy countenance. Already Thou art hidden from My eyes, O My Son. I shall not depart from Thy tomb, O My Son, nor shall My tears cease to flow—I, Thy handmaiden. Why hast Thou left Me alone, O My Son? I shall go with Thee even into Thy little tomb. I beg Thee, O My Son and my God, heal the wound in My soul, O Child. Rise again on the third day, as Thou Thyself hast promised, and turn My bitter sorrow into joy—for Thou art able to do whatsoever Thou wilt, even though Thou hast willingly entered into the grave.”

And the Lord, in secret, answered her: “O My Mother, how could the depth of My compassion be hidden from Thee? I suffer this in order to save My creation.” Let us, then, as sinners, praise and glorify the Holy Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

I have often pondered within myself why our fathers, having passed by the prayer houses that stand within the city, ordained that today we should gather outside the city, and there hold the divine service. Surely they did not do this without cause or in vain. I sought the reason—and by the grace of God, I found one that is just, well-founded, and appropriate to the feast we now celebrate. And what is this reason? Today we commemorate the Cross, and He who was crucified upon it was crucified outside the city. Therefore, we too are led outside the city. “The sheep follow the shepherd,” it is said in Scripture; “where the king is, there also are his warriors,” and “where the carcass is, there will the eagles be gathered” (cf. Matt. 24:28). That is why we gather outside the city. But let us confirm this more surely from the divine Scriptures, so that you will not suppose this is merely a conjecture of ours. I will bring Paul himself as a witness. What does he say concerning sacrifices? “For the bodies of those beasts, whose blood is brought into the sanctuary by the high priest for sin, are burned without the camp” (Hebrews 13:11). “Wherefore Jesus also, that He might sanctify the people with His own blood, suffered without the gate. Let us go forth therefore unto Him without the camp, bearing His reproach” (Hebrews 13:12–13). Paul spoke this and commanded it; we obeyed and went out. Therefore, it is for this reason that we gather outside the city. But why specifically in this church of the martyrs, and not in another? By the grace of God, our city is surrounded on every side by the relics of saints. So why did the fathers appoint this particular church of the martyrs and not another? Because here there lies a multitude of the dead. Since today Jesus descended to the dead, therefore we too gather here. For this reason, the very place is called a cemetery (koimeterion, κοιμητήριον), that thou mightest know that those who have departed and lie here have not died, but rest and sleep. Before the coming of Christ, death was called by its proper name—death. “In the day that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die” (Genesis 2:17); and again: “The soul that sinneth, it shall die” (Ezekiel 18:20). David says, “The death of sinners is evil” (Psalm 33:22 LXX); and also, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints” (Psalm 115:6 LXX). Likewise Job says, “Death is rest to a man” (cf. Job 3:23). And it was not only called death but also Hades. Listen to David: “But God will redeem my soul from the hand of Hades, for He shall receive me” (Psalm 48:16 LXX). And Jacob says, “Ye shall bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to Hades” (Genesis 42:38). Such were the names given to our end before Christ came. But when Christ came and died for the life of the world, death was no longer called death, but sleep and repose. And that it is indeed called repose is evident from what Christ Himself said: “Our friend Lazarus sleepeth” (John 11:11). He did not say “he is dead,” although Lazarus was already dead. And to show that this name of sleep for death was not commonly used, look at how the disciples, upon hearing this, were confused and said, “Lord, if he sleep, he shall do well” (John 11:12). They did not yet understand the meaning of His words. Paul likewise says to some: “Then they also which are fallen asleep in Christ are perished” (1 Corinthians 15:18). And elsewhere: “We which are alive… shall not prevent them which are asleep” (1 Thessalonians 4:15). And again in another place: “Awake, thou that sleepest” (Ephesians 5:14). And to make clear that he speaks of the dead, he adds: “and arise from the dead.” Dost thou see how everywhere death is called sleep? Therefore, this place is called a cemetery, for even this name brings benefit to us and is full of spiritual wisdom. So then, when you bring a dead one here, do not despair, for you are not bringing him to death but to sleep. Let this very name be your consolation in sorrow. Know where you are bringing him—to a place of rest. And know when you bring him—after the death of Christ, when the bonds of death have been loosed. Thus, from both the place and the time you may draw great comfort. And above all, our words are meant especially for women, for this sex is more prone to deep emotion and melancholy. Yet for you too there is sufficient healing for sorrow—in the very name of this place. This, then, is why we gather here. Today our Lord passed through every region of Hades; today He “hath broken the gates of brass, and smitten the bars of iron in sunder” (Psalm 106:16; Isaiah 45:2). Mark well the precision of the words: it does not say that He merely opened the gates of brass, but that He broke them—that the prison might become useless. Nor does it say He removed the bars, but that He shattered them—so that the guards became powerless. Where there is neither door nor lock, none can be detained—not even if one should enter of his own accord. Therefore, when Christ hath shattered them, who shall restore them again? What God hath destroyed, who can rebuild? When kings wish to free prisoners, they do not act thus: they issue decrees, yet leave the prison doors and guards intact—implying that those same prisoners, or others in their stead, might one day return. But Christ did not act in this way. Desiring to show that death itself had come to an end, He destroyed its “gates of brass.” The prophet called them brass not because they were literally of metal, but to show the cruelty and unyielding harshness of death. And to convince you that “brass” and “iron” signify not the material, but the fierceness and inflexibility of death, listen to what the Lord says to a shameless man: “Thy neck is as an iron sinew, and thy brow brass” (Isaiah 48:4). Not that he possessed a literal iron neck or brazen forehead, but that his demeanor was obstinate, shameless, and hardened. Would you know just how stubborn and unyielding death was—like unto adamant? Through so many ages, none was ever released from its grasp, until the Master of angels descended and constrained it. First He bound the strong man, and then plundered his vessels; for this reason the prophet adds, “I will give thee the treasures of darkness… and hidden riches of secret places” (Isaiah 45:3). Though the words are similar, their meaning is twofold. There are, indeed, dark places that may become visible when light is brought in—but Hades was utterly without light or joy, never sharing in the nature of light. Thus, it is called “dark” and “hidden.” And indeed, it was dark—until the Sun of Righteousness descended there, enlightened it, and made Hades into heaven. For where Christ is, there also is heaven. He calls Hades “the treasures of darkness,” and rightly so: for a great treasure was stored therein. The entire human race, which is the treasure of God, had been plundered by the deceiver of the first man, and was delivered over to the bonds of death. And that mankind was a treasure unto God is expressed by Paul when he says, “The same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon Him” (Romans 10:12). Just as when a king captures the chief of bandits—who had attacked cities, looted all, and hidden his plunder in a cave—and binds him, putting him to death, while transferring his treasure to the royal treasury, so likewise did Christ: the prince of robbers, the jailer—namely, the devil and death—He bound through His own death, and transferred all the treasure, that is, the human race, to the royal treasury. This also Paul declares: “He hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of His dear Son” (Colossians 1:13). And what is most marvelous of all: the King Himself came. No earthly king would ever deign to do this; they send their servants to release the prisoners. But here it was not so: the King Himself came to the captives and was not ashamed of them—for He will not be ashamed of that which He created. He broke the gates, shattered the bars, descended into Hades, rendered all its defenses powerless, and, having seized the jailer in bonds, thus returned to us. The tormentor was led away in chains, the strong man bound, death itself, having cast aside its weapons, came naked and trembling to the feet of the King. Dost thou behold this wondrous victory? Dost thou see the power of the Cross? Shall I tell thee something even more marvelous still? Consider the manner of the victory—and thou shalt be yet more amazed. With the very weapons by which the devil had prevailed, Christ overcame him; taking up the same arms, He triumphed over the adversary. And how did this come to pass? Hearken. A virgin, a tree, and death were the symbols of our defeat: the virgin was Eve, for she had not yet known man; the tree was that of Paradise; and death was Adam’s punishment. But now, again, a Virgin, a tree, and death—these same symbols of defeat—have become the signs of victory. Instead of Eve, there is Mary; instead of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, the Tree of the Cross; instead of Adam’s death, the death of Christ. Seest thou how the devil is vanquished by the very means with which he once prevailed? Through a tree, the devil struck down Adam; through the Cross, Christ overthrew the devil. That tree cast man down into Hades; this tree hath drawn the dead up from thence. That tree hid the naked prisoner; this tree from on high revealed to all the naked Victor. And as for death—by that death, those who lived thereafter were condemned; but by this death, those who came before were raised. “Who can utter the mighty acts of the Lord?” (Psalm 105:2) Through death we are made immortal—such is the work of the Cross. Hast thou now understood the victory? Hast thou grasped the manner of triumph? Then understand also how effortlessly this was wrought for us. We did not stain weapons with blood, we did not take our place in battle lines, we did not receive wounds, nor did we witness warfare—yet we received the victory. The combat belonged to the Master; the crown is ours. If then this victory is ours also, let us all lift up a cry of triumph like valiant soldiers. Let us sing unto the Master a hymn of victory, saying: “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” (1 Corinthians 15:54–55) Behold what the Cross hath accomplished for us: the Cross is a trophy over demons, a weapon against sin, the sword by which Christ hath pierced the serpent. The Cross is the will of the Father, the glory of the Only-Begotten, the joy of the Spirit, the adornment of angels, the foundation of the Church, the boast of Paul, the stronghold of the saints, the light of the whole world. As when a house is darkened and someone lights a lamp and sets it high upon a stand, so that the darkness is driven out, so too hath Christ, in a world wrapped in shadow, lifted up the Cross like a radiant lamp, and raised it on high, and scattered all the darkness of the earth. And just as a lamp bears its light at the topmost part, so too did the Cross, on its summit, bear the radiant Sun of Righteousness. When the world beheld Him fastened thereto, it trembled; the earth quaked, the rocks were rent. Yet though the rocks were rent, the hardness of the Jews remained unbroken. The veil of the temple was torn asunder, but the veil of their impiety was not. Why was the veil torn? Because the temple could not bear to see its Lord being crucified. In the rending of its veil, it cried out as it were, saying: “Let now every man who will, trample the Holy of Holies. What use have I for it, when such a sacrifice is offered outside my walls? What use have I now for the covenant? What use for the Law? In vain and to no purpose have I instructed them for so many years.” This too did the prophet foretell, crying out: “Why did the heathen rage, and the people imagine vain things?” (Psalm 2:1) They had heard: “He was led as a sheep to the slaughter; and as a lamb before his shearer is dumb, so He openeth not His mouth” (Isaiah 53:7). They had studied this prophecy for so long—and when the fulfillment came to pass, they did not believe. Dost thou see how “the people imagined vain things”? Therefore was the veil torn, to signify the desolation that was about to befall the temple henceforth, unceasingly. And now, as we prepare this very evening to behold Him who was crucified—like a lamb that is slain and offered in sacrifice—I exhort you: let us draw near with fear, with great reverence and awe. Do you not know how the angels stood by the tomb, even though it held not His body, even though it was empty? Because it had once contained the Master’s body in full, they rendered great honor even to that place. The angels, though surpassing our nature, stood before the tomb with such reverence and holy dread—shall we then approach, not an empty tomb, but the very table upon which the Lamb lies, and do so with noise and confusion? What excuse shall we have after this? I do not speak these words in vain, but because I witness many on this evening acting in disorder—clamoring, shouting, pressing one another, shoving, quarreling—and by this they prepare for themselves not salvation, but condemnation. That is why I address this exhortation to them. What art thou doing, O man? When the priest stands before the holy table, lifting his hands toward heaven, calling upon the Holy Spirit to descend and touch the gifts that lie before him—then there is profound silence, great stillness. And when the Spirit has bestowed His grace, when He has descended, when He has touched the holy gifts, when the Lamb is now slain and offered—at that very moment, dost thou begin to make noise? To stir up confusion, dispute, and shouting? How canst thou partake of this sacrifice while approaching the holy table in such turmoil? Is it not enough that we draw near bearing sins—must we also add sin in the very act of approaching? Truly, if we quarrel, if we cry out, if we wound one another with our tongues, how can we be without sin? Why art thou in haste, tell me? Why dost thou push your neighbor, when thou beholdest the Lamb who is slain? Even if thou were to gaze upon this sacrifice through the entire night, could such a vision ever grow wearisome? All the day thou didst wait; thou hast spent the greater part of the night—wouldst thou now lose so great a labor in the span of a single moment? Consider what lies before thee—and for whose sake. The Lamb is slain for thee, and thou regardest Him with indifference? “Wheresoever the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered together” (Matthew 24:28). But we approach not as eagles, but as dogs—such is our shamelessness! Consider what was once poured out: this is blood—the blood that blotted out the handwriting of thy sins; the blood that cleansed thy soul, that washed away thy uncleanness; the blood that triumphed over principalities and powers. For “having spoiled principalities and powers, He made a shew of them openly, triumphing over them in it” (Colossians 2:15). This trophy, says the Apostle, bears many signs of victory. Upon the summit of the Cross hangs the spoils of battle. As a valiant king, having completed a great war in triumph, displays on a high trophy the armor, shield, and weapons of the vanquished prince and his warriors, so too did Christ, victorious in His war against the devil, hang upon the lofty height of the Cross all of the enemy’s weapons—death and the curse—that all might see this trophy: both the powers above, in heaven, and men below, on earth, and even the vanquished demons themselves. Therefore, if we have received such a great gift, let us show ourselves, to the extent we are able, worthy of the blessings granted us—so that we too may be found worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom be glory, honor, and dominion unto the Father, with the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

By St. Gregory Palamas The eternal and ineffable Word of God, the Almighty and Omnipotent Son, could, even without taking on flesh, have delivered humankind from corruption, death, and bondage to the devil—for all things are upheld by the word of His power, and all creation is subject to His divine authority. As Job says, “Nothing is impossible for Him” (Job 42:2). For the power of the Creator cannot be withstood by any created force, and nothing is stronger than the Almighty. Yet the method chosen—namely, the Incarnation of the Word—was more fitting to our nature and weakness, and more appropriate for the One who accomplished our salvation, for it encompassed also the principle of divine justice, without which God accomplishes nothing. As the Psalmist proclaims, “God is righteous and loves righteousness, and there is no injustice in Him” (Psalm 10:7). Now man, having in the beginning justly been abandoned by God—since he was the first to abandon God and voluntarily ran to the prince of evil, the devil, trusting in his deceitful counsel which opposed the commandment of God—was justly handed over to him. Thus, through the envy of the evil one, and by the just permission of the Good One, death entered the world. This death, due to the excessive wickedness of the prince of evil, became twofold: it was not only natural but also, through his working, all death became violent. Therefore, since we were justly delivered into the bondage of the devil and of death, it was necessary that our restoration to freedom and life also be accomplished by God according to the principle of righteousness. Not only was man handed over to the devil through divine justice, but the devil himself, having cast away righteousness, became unlawfully desirous of power and dominion—or rather, tyranny—opposing justice and acting violently against man. It was fitting, then, that God should first bring low the devil through the principle of justice—since he had violated it—and only afterward by power, on the day of the Resurrection and of the Final Judgment. For this is the most fitting order: that justice precedes power, and that such is the mark of truly divine and good rule—not of tyranny, wherein justice may only follow power. There is, then, a kind of parallel: just as the devil, from the beginning a murderer of man, rose up against us through envy and hatred, so the Author of life was moved for our sake by the abundance of His love and goodness. As the one unlawfully sought the destruction of God’s creature, so the Creator desired strongly to save the work of His own hands. As the devil acted through injustice and deceit to gain a victory and bring about man’s fall, so the Redeemer, by righteousness and wisdom, achieved total victory over the prince of evil and brought about the renewal of His creation. So then, though God could have acted by sheer power, He did not do so, but instead acted in a manner befitting Himself—by the principle of justice. In this way, justice itself was glorified, precisely because it was preferred by the One who holds invincible power. And it was also fitting to instruct mankind, that they should now, in this present age of corruption, practice righteousness through their deeds, so that in the age of immortality, having received power, they might possess it unshakably. Moreover, it was necessary that the one who had been defeated should become the victor over the one who had conquered, and that the deceiver should be outwitted. For this, it was absolutely necessary that a man be without sin. But this was impossible. For Scripture says, “No one is without sin, even if his life be but a single day” (Job 14:4–5), and, “Who can say, I have made my heart clean?” (Proverbs 20:9). No one is without sin—except God alone. Therefore, the One who is from God, the Word of God—eternally begotten of the Father, and ever dwelling in Him (for it is impossible and inconceivable to imagine God ever without His Word), and one with Him, being truly God—just as sunlight is not a light from another source, but the light of the sun itself, and just as a ray is not the manifestation of another sun, but proceeds from this one—so too the only sinless One, the Son and Word of God, became the Son of Man: unchangeable in His divinity, blameless in His humanity. As Isaiah had foretold, “He did no sin, neither was deceit found in His mouth” (Isaiah 53:9). Not only this, but He alone was not conceived in iniquity, nor carried in sin in the womb, as David testifies—not only of himself, but truly of every man (cf. Psalm 50:5). For bodily desire, being independent of the will and clearly hostile to the law of the spirit—though it can be subdued by the will in the chaste and allowed only for the purpose of procreation—nevertheless brings with it condemnation from the beginning, as it is corruption and is rightly called such. It generates us, indeed, for corruption, and is a passionate motion in man who has lost sight of the honor bestowed on our nature by God and has instead become like the beasts. For this reason, God not only became Man, but was born of a Holy Virgin—a Virgin who was higher than all impure thoughts arising from the flesh—as had been foretold by the Prophets. Her conception was not by the will of the flesh but through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit; the cause of God’s indwelling was the Angelic Annunciation and the Virgin’s faith—not the consent or experience of passionate desire. For such a thing was utterly foreign to the All-Holy Virgin, who by her prayer and spiritual joy had utterly cast it far from her. “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word,” said the undefiled Virgin to the angel who announced glad tidings, and so she conceived and gave birth—so that the Victor over the devil might be a Man who, being also God, took from humanity only the root, that is, human nature itself, but not sin. He alone was not conceived in iniquity nor carried in the womb in sin—that is, not in fleshly lust or the impure thoughts of a nature stained through transgression—but was in every sense perfectly pure and spotless. And this not because He Himself needed such purity, but because He wisely received it for our sake. Thus He was truly called the New Adam, utterly free from decay, who came to recreate the old Adam in Himself and through Himself, to preserve him forever in youthful vigor, having the power to utterly banish old age. For even the first Adam, at the beginning, was created by God pure and youthful, until, of his own will, he trusted the devil, turned to carnal pleasures, and fell into the defilement of sin. Then he grew old and entered a condition contrary to nature. Therefore, the Master did not merely renew him with His hand in a miraculous way, but united him to Himself—assuming not only human nature to save it from its fall, but fully clothing Himself with it in an incomprehensible way, joining it to Himself inseparably, being born both God and Man. He was truly born of a woman, in order to exalt that nature which He Himself had created, but which, through the malice of the evil one, had been stolen. And He was born of a Virgin in order to make a new man. For if He had come from the seed of man, then He would not have been the Author and Captain of a new and ever-youthful life. Being of the old stock, He would not have been able to receive in Himself the fullness of the pure Divinity, nor could He have made His flesh an inexhaustible source of sanctification. But by the superabundance of His power, He washed away the ancestral defilement and became sufficient for the sanctification of all those who would come after. Therefore, it was not an angel or a man, but the Lord Himself who willed, out of mercy, to save and recreate us—remaining unchangeably God, yet becoming fully Man in our likeness. Thus, He is born of the Holy Virgin, the only One from eternity free from sin, the only One truly worthy never to be forsaken by God. Before He had known evil, He chose the good, as the prophecy declares. He lived a wholly blameless life, being justly and deservedly free from ever being forsaken by God, for He Himself never forsook God, unlike the first Adam who, having transgressed the commandment, abandoned Him. Rather, He fulfilled every commandment of God, the entire Law of God, and thus was rightfully free from the devil’s dominion. And in this way, the devil, who once conquered man, is now conquered by a Man. The one who once triumphed over the nature made in the image of God, and in this pride gloried—he is now cast down from that pride. And behold, man rises again from both spiritual and true death—that death which he died immediately upon eating from the forbidden tree, the death with which God threatened Adam and Eve before their disobedience, saying: “On the day ye eat thereof, ye shall surely die” (Genesis 2:17). Therefore, after the transgression, we were also condemned to bodily death, as God then said to Adam: “Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return” (Genesis 3:19). For just as the departure of the soul from the body is the death of the body, so also the departure of the soul from God—its separation from Him—is the death of the soul. Though the soul remains immortal in a different sense, when separated from God, it becomes putrid and repulsive—more so than a corpse. Yet it is not dissolved after death, like the body, because it possesses a being independent of the composition of elements. This is evident even in inanimate things: the simpler something is, the more enduring it tends to be. And so, when the rational soul is separated from God, it not only becomes inert in regard to good activity, but also becomes active in evil, wretchedly disordering everything—living still, even in its separation from the body—until, at the judgment, it will be delivered, together with the body in an unbreakable and unbearable union, to eternal torment prepared for the devil and his angels. For they too are dead—though active in evil—because they were justly rejected by God, who is Life itself. The first to undergo this death was Satan, who was justly cast off from God because of disobedience. Then, through wicked counsel, he drew us into disobedience as well, making us partakers of that same death. But Christ, through His life in the flesh, showing perfect obedience in all His deeds, freed our nature from that death. Yet it was fitting, not only that the human nature He had assumed be made immortal, but that the entire human race be raised to share in that Life which in time will also become the cause of eternal life for the body—just as, conversely, the soul’s death became the cause of bodily death. Therefore, it was both necessary and beneficial to display this economy of salvation, and to set forth His manner of life as an example for imitation. For God is presented to us not only for contemplation, but also as a model for imitation—both for man and for the good angels. But since we once fell down from the height of this contemplation, depriving ourselves of it by our own doing, the Most High God, in His exceeding love for mankind, descended to us—without in any way diminishing His divinity—and, living among us, offered Himself as an example of the return and ascent to life. And not only this: He also became our Teacher, showing us by word the path that leads to life, and confirming the words of His teaching with the greatest miracles. In this way, human nature is vindicated—demonstrating that evil (corruption) is not inherent in it. And God is also justified—as not being the cause or creator of any evil. For if the co-eternal Word of the Father had not become incarnate, then it would have seemed that sin was in man by nature, since from the beginning there was no man free of sin. Then it might be supposed that the blame lay with the Creator, as though He were not the Author of good or not Himself good, or worse—that He were an unjust Judge, having condemned man who, from his very creation, was destined for condemnation. Therefore, God assumed human nature to show to what extent it is free from sin—so pure that it could be united to Him hypostatically, and could coexist eternally with Him in indivisible union. Thus, He demonstrated in reality and for all to see, that God is good and just, the Creator of good and the Overseer (epoptēs) of righteous judgment. For although Satan and the angels who fell with him were cast down from heaven, yet by the example of the angels who remained faithful to their rank, it is evident that evil is not natural to angels. On the contrary, goodness is natural to them, and their Creator is by nature Good. It is by a righteous judgment that Satan is condemned to everlasting darkness—because by his own will, he became the cause of evil, having turned away from the Beautiful Good. And after Adam fell—having turned from good to evil—there appeared no one who remained unmoved by evil. Since Adam, no man was found free from sin. Thus appeared the New Adam—Christ—who, as Isaiah says, “did no sin” and did not even think sinfully; how much more, then, did He not speak sinfully, for “there was no deceit found in His mouth” (cf. Is. 53:9). The prophet does not say “from His lips,” but “in His mouth,” to indicate the blamelessness of His thoughts. Elsewhere, Isaiah says that “before He knew evil, He chose the good.” In this way, as mentioned earlier, God was justified and revealed as truly good and the Creator of good works, since man was originally created sinless—and the purity revealed in Christ was attributed by God to human nature itself. And so, since it was fitting to manifest and make known this ineffable dispensation, John—called symbolically the Forerunner—is sent by God from the wilderness. He baptizes those who come to him and proclaims that they must prepare to believe in the One coming after him, who, he says, “shall baptize them with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” This Coming One, John declares, is greater than himself—greater in the same measure that the Holy Spirit surpasses mere water. For He is the Lord, John testifies, the Maker of all, the Master of angels and men. All people are His spiritual field; the winnowing fan—that is, the ministering powers—are in His hand and under His authority. And the Forerunner does not speak merely from himself when he testifies that such is the Coming One, but he also brings forth Isaiah, who prophesied Him as the Lord, while declaring himself to be only a servant, sent to prepare His way and to exhort the faithful to make ready for His arrival. He says, “I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness: Prepare ye the way of the Lord” (Lk. 3:4; Jn. 1:23). He further bears witness that even before he (John) was conceived and born, this One already was. “He who comes after me is made before me,” John says (Jn. 1:15), though Jesus was conceived and born after him. Therefore, if He existed before, it was not in the flesh, but prior to becoming flesh. John adds that He is “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world,” foretelling that He would be the sacrifice and offering for the remission of our sins. He also testifies that He is the Most High God, who came down from heaven, and that He is immeasurably powerful, receiving the Spirit from the Father not by measure. He promises eternal life to those who believe in Him, and threatens inevitable divine wrath upon those who do not. When asked by his disciples about himself, he said: “He must increase, but I must decrease” (Jn. 3:30). And explaining why not only he himself, but all things, yield to Christ, he says, “He that comes from above is above all” (Jn. 3:31)—existing beyond all created ranks, and preserving in full the perfection of the Father as the Beloved Son. And again: “The Father loves the Son, and has given all things into His hand. He who believes in the Son has everlasting life; but he who does not believe the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abides on him” (Jn. 3:35–36). So Christ comes to be baptized—first, to fulfill obedience to the One who sent John, as He Himself said: “For thus it becomes us to fulfill all righteousness” (Mt. 3:15); second, for His manifestation; also, to inaugurate the saving path and make it trustworthy for those to follow and be baptized. Furthermore, He gave an example and showed that in baptism the Holy Spirit is bestowed, and that baptism was instituted by Him as a healing purification of the defilements we acquired through passionate birth and life. He Himself, even as Man, had no need of cleansing, being born of the All-Pure Virgin and remaining without sin throughout His life. But for our sake, He was born, and for our sake, He undergoes purification. Therefore, He is baptized by John, and as He comes up from the water, the heavens are opened, and behold: the voice of the Father is heard—“This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” (Mt. 3:17)—and the Spirit of God descends upon Him as a dove, bearing witness to those present of the One testified to from on high. In this way, the true Son is revealed; the Father is shown as the true Father; and the Holy Spirit is made manifest as proceeding essentially from the Father, yet resting by nature upon the Only-Begotten Son. And present also in the water of baptism is the grace of the Son, and of the Father, and of the Spirit—so that, according to this image, when this grace is later given to the baptized, it might divinely regenerate them, renew them, and mystically re-create them—not as children of the old Adam, from whom they had inherited the curse, but as those born from the New Adam, from whom they receive the blessing; no longer children of the flesh, but children of God, born “not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God” (Jn. 1:13). For although they are still burdened with the weight of this perishing flesh—for the sake of discipline, testing, correction, and understanding the vanity of this present age—yet they have clothed themselves in Christ, so that by striving, they may even here share in His way of life, and after departing hence, become partakers of His blessedness, His radiance, and His incorruptibility. For just as through one Adam, by physical descent, the penalty of death passed to his descendants, so through the one God-man, the Word, grace for eternal and heavenly life is given to all reborn through Him. Therefore, heaven is opened for them—prepared to receive them at the appointed time—if they are nourished by faith in Him and by righteousness that accords with that faith, and become heirs of God, receiving power to be co-heirs with Christ, sharing in His ineffable life and immortality, abiding with Him inseparably and delighting in His glory. For heaven had once been closed to us, and we were children of wrath—meaning, we had justly been forsaken by God because of our sin and unbelief. But now, because our nature in Christ is without sin and obedient to God, we have become children of favor, united with Christ, beloved sons. And heaven is opened for us, so that the Spirit of God may descend upon us and dwell within us, and that, in due time, we may be lifted up into heaven by Him—when He who raised Christ from the dead will also enliven our mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in us, transforming the body of our humility and conforming it to the body of Christ’s glory. Through Him we are enriched with immortality and called to the heavens, where our nature is seated at the right hand of Majesty, above every principality and power. O the depth of the riches and wisdom and love for mankind of God! How marvelously did He know to transform our transgression—freely chosen—into something far greater and more glorious, by His wisdom, His power, and His love! For had the Son of God not descended from heaven, our return to heaven would have been hopeless. Had He not become incarnate, suffered in the flesh, risen, and ascended for us, we would never have known the abyss of God’s love for us. And even when we were still ungodly, had He not taken flesh and suffered for our sake, we—who are now exalted to such a height through Him—would never have been kept from base pride. But now, since we have brought nothing of our own and yet are lifted up to the heights, we remain in humility. And beholding the greatness of the promise and the grace, we become ever more humble—for in this is our salvation. So then, the Son of God became man in order to show to what height He intends to raise us—so that we might not become proud, as though we had triumphed by our own strength. Being of two natures, He truly became the Mediator, uniting both (God and man) in Himself through each of His natures. He came to loosen the bonds of sin, to cleanse the defilement introduced through the sin of the flesh, to reveal God’s love toward us, to show the depth of evil into which we had fallen—so deep that God’s very Incarnation was necessary for our salvation. He came to become for us an example of humility, encompassing flesh and suffering, which is the healing remedy for pride; to demonstrate that our nature was created good by God; to be the Author and Guarantor of the Resurrection and of eternal life, destroying all hopelessness; to become the Son of Man and a partaker of mortality, that He might make men sons of God, partakers of divine immortality. He came to show how greatly the human nature, created in the image of God, surpasses all other created things—for it had such affinity with God that it could be united to Him in a single Hypostasis. He came to honor the flesh—even mortal flesh—so that arrogant spirits would no longer think themselves more worthy of honor than mankind, exalting themselves on account of their bodiless nature and apparent immortality. He came to reconcile and unite, by nature separated, God and mankind—by becoming Himself, in nature, the dual Mediator. And what need is there to say more? If the Word of God had not become incarnate, the Father would not have been revealed as truly the Father, nor the Son as truly the Son, nor the Holy Spirit—proceeding from the Father—nor God in His essence and hypostases. Rather, He would have appeared to creation merely as a Power, just as the foolish philosophers of old claimed, and now their spiritual heirs—followers of Barlaam and Akindynos—likewise blasphemously imagine. Thus the Lord manifested Himself and His dispensation to the extent that this could be revealed to us. He revealed the Father as truly the most high and eternal Father. He showed to those willing to receive it—both in that time and for generations to come—the path of ascent (or return) to the Father, urging and calling them, guiding them by His own life, His teachings, His miracles, and prophecies—or rather, by His truly divine and supernatural wisdom and knowledge, before whom nothing is hidden: neither the future, nor the present invisible movements in the depths of the heart. Therefore, it was necessary that those who hear Him be delivered from the bondage of the devil. And since man had experienced the wrath of God—which consisted in the fact that man had justly been abandoned by the Good—and was delivered into captivity to the devil, it was necessary that man be reconciled with his Creator. For otherwise, it would have been impossible to free him from that bondage. Thus, there was need for a sacrifice to reconcile us with the Most High Father, and to sanctify those who had been defiled through communion with the evil one. There was need for a purifying and spotless sacrifice—and also a need for a priest, likewise pure and sinless. Moreover, there was need for resurrection—not only a resurrection of the spirit, but also of the body, for the sake of future generations, in the resurrection that is to come at the appointed time. It was therefore necessary not only to grant us this deliverance and resurrection, but to guarantee it. And further, to bestow upon us restoration, elevation, and unending citizenship in the heavens. This was not only necessary for those living at that time or in the future, but even more so for the multitudes of people who had been born and died since the beginning of the world. For the number of people in Hades far exceeded those who would be born in the future—vastly more than those who would come to faith and be saved. For this reason, I believe, Christ came at the end of the ages. It was necessary that the Gospel be preached also in Hades, and that this great dispensation of salvation be made manifest even there—granting full liberation from the demons who had enslaved souls, sanctification, and the promise of what is to come. So Christ indeed had to descend into Hades—but all this according to justice and righteousness (meta dikaeosynēs), for without righteousness, God accomplishes nothing. Furthermore, it was just and necessary that the deceiver, the devil, be outwitted, and his hoarded wealth—acquired by deceit—be stripped away from him; that evil, in which he had pridefully reached his fullness, be conquered not by sheer divine force, but by wisdom and justice, lest he be humiliated merely by power and not truly defeated in a just way. Since all men, by deed or word or thought—or by all three, or by any two—had defiled the purity given to human nature by God, there was a need for sanctification. And from the beginning, sanctification is accomplished by an offering made to God by each person. But the offering had to be pure—and we had nothing pure to offer. Therefore, the one pure Christ appeared, and He offered Himself to the Father as a sacrifice for us and as the firstfruits, so that by looking to Him and believing in Him, and by being united to Him through obedience, we might stand before God, receive mercy, and all be sanctified. This is what the Lord Himself says in the Gospel: “For their sakes I sanctify Myself, that they also may be sanctified in truth” (Jn. 17:19). For not only the sacrifice, but also the one offering the sacrifice—the high priest—had to be pure and sinless, as the Apostle says: “Such a high priest became us—holy, innocent, undefiled, separate from sinners, and made higher than the heavens” (Heb. 7:26). Therefore, for the sake of these and such things, the Word of God not only became flesh and dwelt among us—visible upon the earth and living among men—but also took on the same kind of flesh that we have: though utterly pure, yet mortal and passible. And with this flesh, as a divinely wise “bait,” He caught the primeval, evil serpent by the Cross, and thereby freed the entire human race that had been enslaved to him. For when the tyrant fell, all who were tyrannized by him were released. This is precisely what the Lord Himself says in the Gospels: “The strong man is bound, and his goods are plundered.” What had been taken captive by Christ was set free, justified, filled with light, and enriched with divine gifts. For this reason David sings: “Thou art gone up on high” (that is, to the height of the Cross—or, if you prefer, to heaven), “Thou hast led captivity captive, and given gifts to men” (Ps. 67:19). Thus, through His Passion and flesh, He put the devil to flight, offering that same flesh to God the Father as a sacrifice, a spotless and all-holy offering. O unspeakable bounty! In so doing, He reconciled us to God, having made us of one kin with Himself, the God-man. And since He accepted the Passion by the will of the Father, He thereby became an example for us who, through our disobedience, had ruined ourselves, but who are saved by the obedience of Christ. He demonstrated that His death is far more precious than the so-called immortality of the devil, which is worse than ten thousand deaths and destined for eternal punishment. For His death became the cause of truly immortal life—not of a second or everlasting death. It now dwells with Him in the heavenly tabernacles. For He Himself, rising on the third day from the dead, and presenting Himself alive to the disciples, ascended into heaven and, being immortal, has granted to us resurrection, immortality, and an eternal, unshakable, and truly blessed life in heaven—making it certain and sure. By His one death in the flesh and His one resurrection, He has healed us from the double death of soul and body, and has freed us from the twofold captivity of soul and body. For the evil one became spiritually dead when, through willful and conscious sin, he was justly forsaken by God, who is True Life. As the fullness of evil, the prince of envy, lies, and malice, he could not bear that the life of man was spent in a place of delight—I mean Paradise. And by his ruinous counsel, he deceived mankind and made him a sharer in sin and death of the soul. And from this spiritual death, bodily death necessarily followed. In this way, the evil one, through his own single spiritual death, inflicted a twofold death upon us—and by casting us down even lower than himself, he, in his pride, appeared great and exalted, as one who had outwitted us by cunning and enslaved us, and who, being “immortal,” alas, appeared to us as a kind of god. Even after death, possessing our souls—which had been abandoned by God—he dragged them down to Hades and confined them in what seemed to be an unbreakable prison. But the God who created us, having compassion on this great disaster of ours, deigned to descend to where we had fallen, to summon us from there—He who alone appeared among the dead as free, who descended there in His living spirit. And more than that, He illuminated that place with divine light and radiated life-giving power, so as to enlighten those who sat in darkness and to enliven in spirit those in Hades who believed in Him—and at the appointed time, also to enliven their bodies, when He established that the entire human race should be raised and judged. As the Apostle teaches in his Epistle: “For this cause was the Gospel preached also to the dead, that they might be judged according to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit” (1 Peter 4:6). A little earlier in the same epistle, he shows who it was and how He preached the Gospel to the dead in Hades: “Christ also once suffered for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that He might bring us to God; being put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit, by which He also went and preached to the spirits in prison” (1 Peter 3:18–19)—that is, to the souls of the dead from of old. So, just as the evil one, through his own single spiritual death, brought upon us a double death—of both soul and body—so the Good One, through His one bodily death, healed our double death. And through the single resurrection of His body, He granted us a twofold resurrection—of soul and of body—overthrowing by His bodily death the one who had held authority, through death, over our souls and bodies, and delivering us in both respects from his tyranny. The evil one took the form of a serpent to deceive man; the Word of God took on human nature to outwit the deceiver. He assumed this nature untouched by deception and pure, and preserved it as such to the end, offering it to the Father as a sacrifice and firstfruits for our sanctification—through our own human nature. For if the Word of God had assumed a body not subject to death or suffering, how could the devil—being, as he is, the very source of evil—have been deceived or come into contact with Him? Thus, the devil did not dare approach until he recognized that Christ had a body capable of suffering. For after Christ had fasted in the wilderness for forty days and did not hunger—for though He had a body capable of feeling pain, it would not have endured had the divine power, joined to that body, not permitted it—then, as the Gospel says, He afterward hungered. At that moment, for the first time, the evil one dared to approach and began to tempt Him, trying to probe His soul. But when he was strongly repelled, and again approached with temptations involving all the pleasures of the senses, he was mightily defeated. Weakened, shamed, and overthrown, he fled in retreat. Why was the tempter defeated, even though he dared approach because of the passibility of the God-man’s flesh? Because he tried to incite to sin the one sinless Man. Thus, he fled in shameful defeat. But Christ did not relent in His pursuit, driving him out from those possessed by him, healing the sick by His mere command, raising the dead—not only those who had recently died, but even those whose bodies had begun to decay. Moreover, He preached repentance, declared that the Kingdom of Heaven was at hand, led souls to faith and to a life opposite to that taught by the enemy. He converted and received sinners, and even gave His disciples power over demons. Could this be tolerable for Satan and the angels who had fallen with him? Would he not have tried to devise some way to destroy such a power, which opposed him? Could he endure the presence of such a Man—one who expelled him from men and overthrew his many-faced tyranny? Therefore, he raged against Christ. But since he had learned from experience that the God-man’s soul was invulnerable to any passion—the very passions which he himself had introduced into human nature—and that this soul was entirely inaccessible to death (for the devil had introduced death to mankind), and since Christ’s body alone was subject to suffering and death, he was not permitted to kill Him directly. So instead, he stirred up the souls of the unbelieving Jews to kill Him, provoking in them envy and unrestrained fury against Him—because Christ rebuked and rejected them as evildoers. Thus, he incited and agitated them to murder Him, to sentence Him to a shameful death reserved for evildoers and the ungodly, hoping thereby to remove Him from the earth and make His very name a reproach. He arrogantly presumed that when Christ died, His soul—like the souls of all who had died from the beginning—would be held captive in Hades. Thus, the deceiver was himself deceived: attacking Christ’s flesh, seeing it as subject to suffering and death, he—against his will—brought Light into the dark and long-desired depths of the underworld, and presented the Giver of life to souls tyrannized by him through spiritual death. Not only this, but he also mixed the Body—the very source of resurrection and immortality—with the dead, hastening to hand it over to death and the grave. Yet the Lord could, in truth, have overthrown even these wicked plans of his, but instead, He willed all the more to undergo the Passion for our sake—this being the very reason He became man. For had He not become man, He could not have suffered; and if He were not God, remaining impassible in His divinity, He could not have taken on such a death in the flesh for our sake—through which He granted us resurrection and immortality. And had He not been God, it would not be believed that He truly could have suffered voluntarily—but because He was God, He freely willed to suffer. Thus, He demonstrated that His humility was for our liberation and uplifting, and by His actions taught that one must struggle for righteousness even unto death, proclaiming to the faithful the power of immortality—an immortality not merely of endless existence, but of existence immune from eternal perdition, that fearful punishment prepared for the devil—existence instead in everlasting fellowship with the holy angels, in the enjoyment of the beautiful and unending Kingdom. For this reason, He subjected Himself to death, which He did not owe, in order to free us—who were subject to death by obligation—from bondage to the devil and death. And by death, I mean both spiritual and bodily death, both temporal and eternal. For on our behalf—guilty because of sin—He offered His own innocent Blood as a ransom, and thus redeemed us from guilt, forgiving our sins and blotting out the record written against us, nailing it to the Cross, and redeeming us from the tyranny of the devil. For the devil, being deceived and opening his mouth wide, hastening to pour out the Master’s Blood—which is our ransom—not only innocent but full of divine power, gained nothing from it; rather, he found himself bound tightly, mocked openly by the Cross of Christ. In this way, we were snatched from his slavery and transferred into the Kingdom of the Son of God—we who were once vessels of wrath, but through Him became vessels of mercy. He bound the strong man (strong only by comparison with us), the devil, and plundered his goods. And having been unjustly put to death at the devil’s instigation, He justly reigned over us—defeating the evil one by divine justice, openly displaying almighty power, conquering death in the flesh, rising on the third day, ascending into heaven, and sitting at the right hand of the Father in that same flesh which He bore for our sake and in which He died. In this He confirmed the resurrection of the dead, the return to heaven, and the inheritance of the Kingdom—provided we too, imitating Him, conquer the prince of sin through righteousness, repelling his assaults and temptations to wicked passions, and courageously enduring his malicious plots. This is why, though the Lord has regenerated us through divine baptism and sealed us with the grace of the Holy Spirit on the day of redemption, He has nonetheless left us with a mortal and passible body. Though He cast out the prince of evil from human souls, He allows him to attack from without, so that man, being renewed according to the New Covenant—that is, the Gospel of Christ—living in virtue and repentance, scorning worldly pleasures, enduring suffering, and growing strong under the assaults of the enemy, might prepare himself in this life to receive incorruption and those future blessings suited to the age to come. Therefore, the faithful should rejoice in hope; and since this present life will come to an end, he ought wisely and faithfully to await the blessedness that the next life will contain without end. By the understanding of faith, he must patiently endure the hardship that this life carries as a deserved punishment, and must, resisting sin—even unto blood if need be—stand firm against the enemy, the ally of sin and the architect of cunning snares. For apart from sin, nothing in this life—not even death itself—is a misfortune, even though it may appear to be one. For this reason, the company of the saints inflicted suffering on their own bodies. The martyrs transformed the violent deaths inflicted on them by others into great glory, into the gateway of life, glory, and the eternal heavenly Kingdom—courageously and in a way pleasing to God, they made use of death. For this very reason, after abolishing death by His Resurrection, Christ allowed it still to remain for His faithful ones, and along with it allowed other tribulations in this world: so that a person, fighting for Christ amid these circumstances and upholding the Truth in both way of life and doctrines of the New Covenant, might be prepared for that coming, new, and incorruptible age. Thus, even sufferings benefit those who endure them with faith—for the remission of sins, for training, for testing, for a real understanding of the misery of this life, for the fervent stirring of spiritual thirst and for the constant seeking after the adoption, redemption, and truly new and blessed life that abides forever. And since our adoption and renewal in Christ—in both soul and body—is manifold, having a beginning, a middle, and a fulfillment: as its beginning, He has given us the grace of baptism, which grants forgiveness of all sins and the penalty resulting from the curse, and is called the “washing of regeneration.” As its fulfillment, He grants the resurrection—the resurrection hoped for by the faithful, and the life promised in the age to come. And between these lies life according to the Gospel of Christ, through which a person who is growing in God is nourished and matures day by day into the knowledge of God, into righteousness, and into sanctification, little less than the state of the angels, casting off attachment to base things and transferring his longing from the visible, carnal, and temporal to the intellectual, spiritual, and eternal. These three stages of renewal in Christ are set forth by Paul, the beholder of unspeakable mysteries, the chosen vessel, in his epistle to the Romans: “As many of us as were baptized into Christ Jesus, were baptized into His death. Therefore we are buried with Him by baptism into death” (Rom. 6:3–4). This is the beginning of our renewal, for Christ tore up the record of our sins on the Cross and, through baptism, buried us with Him and made us guiltless. Listen also to what he says about the middle, which follows the beginning: “That just as Christ was raised from the dead, so we too might walk in newness of life” (Rom. 6:4). And he adds the fulfillment of our renewal: “For if we have been united with Him in the likeness of His death, we shall also be in the likeness of His resurrection” (Rom. 6:5). Then, more clearly showing both the beginning and the type of renewal and adoption, he says: “And not only they, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption” (Rom. 8:23). He calls “the firstfruits of the Spirit” the sanctification and grace of the Spirit that we receive in divine baptism, being freed from sins and renewed, and justified freely by the grace of Christ—for this is the beginning of the blessings to come. And by “waiting for the adoption,” he shows that he does not speak of the adoption through baptism, but of that future, perfect, and enduring adoption. He adds: “the redemption of our body”—that is, deliverance from passions and corruption. For here, adoption often fails; but that which comes in the regeneration and the resurrection of the dead is perfect and truly unshakable. In his Epistle to the Philippians, Paul sets forth even more clearly the fulfillment—the final goal—of this renewal, saying: “We look for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall transform the body of our humiliation to be conformed to the body of His glory” (Phil. 3:20–21). For just as Christ died in weakness and dishonor of the body, yet rose again in divine power and glory, so too those who lived in Christ are sown into death—let us again use Paul’s own words—in weakness and dishonor, but shall rise in power and glory, receiving a glorified and pure body such as Christ Himself had after the Resurrection, having become the Firstborn from the dead and the Firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. But this renewal of the body is, for now, seen only by faith—not yet by sight, not in actual form, but in hope. This renewal begins, as was said, in divine baptism through the forgiveness of sins, and it is strengthened and grows through righteousness in faith, being ever more renewed in the knowledge of God and the virtues that accompany it. It will receive its fulfillment in the future, in the face-to-face vision of God; for now we see, as it were, through a glass, darkly. Therefore the one greatly beloved by Christ, John the Theologian, combining both renewals—that of the soul and that of the body—says: “Beloved, now are we the children of God” (1 John 3:2). This is the beginning of adoption. But—“it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that when He shall appear, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.” This is the fulfillment of the adoption given to us by Christ, the renewal granted in God. And again, in the Gospel, the same John says: “Christ gave power to those who believe in His Name to become the children of God, who were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God” (John 1:12–13). For by saying that we are not born of flesh but of God, he points to the regeneration and adoption that come through divine baptism, which he also affirms in the epistle when he says: “Now we are the children of God.” Yet in saying that He gave us the power to become children of God—as though we are not yet fully such—he shows the final completion of adoption. For just as a newborn child possesses by nature the power to become wise, and is potentially wise, so also, as the years pass and the conditions conducive to growth are present, the child may actually become wise—so too the one reborn through divine baptism has truly received the potential power to become conformed to the body of the glory of the Son of God. And if he walks in newness of life, living according to Christ and His Gospel, then at the Resurrection—by the power proceeding from that life toward perfection—he shall receive, not just in faith and hope, but in truth and reality, a glorified and most pure body, like that which the Lord Himself had after His Resurrection. The bodies of the ungodly also shall rise, but not in heavenly glory, for they shall not be conformed to the body of Christ’s glory. They shall not behold that vision of God promised to the faithful, which is also called the Kingdom of God. For it is written: “Let the ungodly be taken away, that he may not see the glory of the Lord” (Isaiah 26:10). But those who have been born in Christ and nourished in Him, and who have attained, as far as possible, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, shall be blessed to partake of divine radiance. As it is written, they shall shine like the sun in the Kingdom of their Father. This divine radiance and light-bearing glory was what Adam possessed before his transgression—he was, in truth, clothed in a robe of glory, and was not naked, nor ashamed of his nakedness. Rather, he was adorned with such splendor that it cannot be described—more glorious by far than those now crowned with gold and precious stones. Our nature, once shamefully stripped of this divine brightness and radiance through transgression, was taken up in mercy by the Word of God through His love for mankind. And on Mount Tabor He showed to the chosen of His disciples that same divine glory clothing Him even more powerfully than we once possessed it, clearly revealing what we, who believe in Him and attain perfection in Him, shall be in the age to come. You will find that the pledges of this perfection—granted to those who live in Christ—have already, even in this life, been bestowed upon the saints of God, who have tasted in advance the good things of the age to come. Moses, for instance, bore a reflection of it—his face shone so that the children of Israel could not gaze upon it. And after him, the Lord Himself revealed it even more fully when He shone forth on the mountain with the radiance of divinity, so brightly that even the chosen disciples, though they had received spiritual strength, could not endure the sight. As it is written, the face of Stephen appeared as the face of an angel, and looking up from the earth beyond the heavens, he saw the glory of God above the heavens, where Christ is seated at the right hand of Majesty. And how many more could be named—those who already here, in this life, received pledges of the blessings to come, and were blessed to taste that divine radiance and glory? May we, too, receive it by the grace and love for mankind of Him who for our sake became incarnate, suffered, was buried, rose again, and exalted our nature to the heavens—honoring it with enthronement at the right hand of the Father: Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom be glory, honor, and worship with His Unoriginate Father and the Most Holy and Life-Giving Spirit, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen. source

What is this? Why is there such deep silence upon the earth today, and such stillness? It is because the King is at rest. The earth grew silent with awe, for the Lord has fallen asleep in the flesh, and has raised up those who have slept from ages past. The Lord died in the flesh, and Hades trembled. The Lord slept but a little while, and awakened those who had been sleeping in Hades from of old. Where now, O ungodly ones, are those loud and furious voices that once cried out against Christ? Where has the crowd gone, the conspiracies, the spears and staves? Where are the kings, the priests, and the judges worthy of condemnation? Where are the lanterns, the swords, the chaotic cries? Where has the frenzied mob gone, and the shameful guard? Truly, “the people imagined a vain thing” (cf. Psalm 2:1). They stumbled against the cornerstone—Christ—and they were broken. They struck against the solid Rock and shattered themselves. Their waves turned to foam. They bound the great Samson, but He burst the eternal bonds and destroyed the lawless foreigners. God, the Sun—Christ—went down beneath the earth and left the Jews in perpetual darkness. Today salvation has shone forth to those who dwell on the earth and to those who from of old were in the underworld. Today salvation has shone forth both to the visible and the invisible world. Christ has come with a double visitation: a double descent, a double work of love, a double building of salvation. He has descended from heaven to earth, and from earth into Hades. The gates of Hades are opened. O ye who have died from of old, rejoice! And ye who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, receive the great light! The Master among slaves, God among the dead, Life among mortals; the Innocent among the guilty; the Light without evening among those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death; the Liberator among the captives; He who is above the heavens among those who dwell in the depths. Christ is on earth, and we have believed. Christ is among the dead—let us also go down with Him into Hades and behold the mysteries that take place there. Let us understand the hidden wonders that are wrought beneath the earth by the Hidden One—Christ. Let us learn how the Gospel was proclaimed even to those in Hades. But what then? Does God, having descended into Hades, save all without distinction? No. There too He saves only those who believe. Yesterday He showed forth the works of His humanity, and today the works of His Lordship. Yesterday, the deeds of weakness; today, of omnipotence. Yesterday, the deeds of manhood; today, of Divinity. Yesterday, He was struck on the cheek; today, He shakes the dwellings of Hades with the splendor of His Godhead. Yesterday, He was bound; today, He binds the tyrant with unbreakable chains. Yesterday, He was condemned; today, He grants freedom to the condemned. Yesterday, the servants of Pilate mocked Him; today, the keepers of Hades tremble at His sight. But listen to the essential cause of Christ’s suffering. And having heard it, sing, glorify, and proclaim the great wonders of the Lord. Behold how the Law gives way to grace, how types pass away and shadows vanish, how the Sun fills the whole world, how the Old Covenant is worn out, and the New is established—how “the old things are passed away” (2 Corinthians 5:17), and the new has blossomed! At the time of Christ’s Passion, there were two peoples in Zion—the Jews and the Gentiles; two kings—Pilate and Herod; two high priests—Annas and Caiaphas; two Passovers were being celebrated: the Old, which was coming to its end, and the New, which was just beginning. That same evening, two sacrifices were offered, for salvation was accomplished both for the living and the dead. The Jews, binding the Lamb for slaughter, still looked toward the shadow; the Gentiles turned to the Sun of Righteousness—God. The former, having bound Christ, passed Him from one to another; the latter received Him eagerly. One sacrifice was of a beast (κτηνοθυτον); the other of Him who is God in the flesh (θεοσωμον). The Jews remembered their departure from Egypt; the Gentiles proclaimed their deliverance from delusion. And where did all this occur? In Zion, the city of the great King, where He worked salvation in the midst of the earth. “In the midst of two living beings” (Habakkuk 3:2), Jesus the God-man was made known, the Fountain of life between the two Fountains of life—the Father and the Spirit, life from life; born in a manger among angels and men; lying as the cornerstone among two peoples; preached in the midst of the Law and the Prophets; revealed on the mountain between Moses and Elijah; crucified between two thieves, and confessed to be God by the penitent thief. As the eternal Judge, He sits between the life that now is and that which is to come. In the midst of the living and the dead, He has now accomplished a double life and salvation—I speak of birth and rebirth. Hear of Christ’s double birth, and clap your hands at the wonders. An angel announced to Mary His birth from her; an angel declared to Mary Magdalene His dreadful rebirth from the tomb. At night, Christ was born in Bethlehem; at night in Zion He is reborn. At His birth, He was wrapped in swaddling clothes—here, He is wrapped in a winding sheet. At His birth, myrrh was brought to Him; with myrrh and aloes He is now prepared for burial. There, Joseph was the betrothed of Mary; here, Joseph of Arimathea is the caretaker of our life—Christ. The manger of Bethlehem served as His cradle; and in the tomb He lay as in a manger. At His birth, the first to proclaim Him were shepherds; and the first to declare His resurrection from the dead were also shepherds—the disciples of Christ. There, an angel said to Mary, “Rejoice!” Here, “the Angel of Great Counsel”—Christ—says to the women, “Rejoice!” Forty days after His first birth, Christ entered the earthly Jerusalem and the temple and, as the firstborn, offered to God two turtledoves. And forty days after His resurrection, He ascended to the heavenly Jerusalem—to the true Holy of Holies—and as the incorrupt Firstborn from the dead, He offered to God the Father our soul and body as two spotless turtledoves. And there, the Ancient of Days—the God and Father—received Him inexpressibly into His bosom, just as the aged Simeon once received Him into his arms in the earthly temple. If you think this is a fable and listen with unbelief, the seals of the Lord’s tomb will condemn you—those seals that remained unbroken after Christ’s resurrection. For just as He was born of the Virgin and did not destroy the signs of her virginity, so also He rose, not breaking the seals of the tomb. But let us now listen to the sacred narratives: when, and by whom, was Christ—our Life—laid in the tomb? “Now when the evening was come,” says the Scripture, “there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph. He went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus” (Matthew 27:57–58). A mortal came to a mortal, asking permission to receive the God of mortals; dust approached dust, requesting to take the Fashioner of all things; hay asked hay to grant the Heavenly Fire; a tiny drop reached out to receive the Sea. Who has ever seen or heard anything like this? A man gives over to a man the Creator of men; a lawbreaker promises to deliver the Righteous One and the Giver of the Law; an unrighteous judge hands over the Judge of judges, as if He were condemned, to be buried. “When the evening was come, there came a rich man named Joseph.” Truly he was rich, for he received the entire composite nature of the Lord. Truly rich, for from Pilate he received the double essence of Christ. Rich, for he was counted worthy to receive the priceless Pearl. Truly rich, for he carried the Treasure-house filled with Divinity. How can he not be called rich, who obtained the Life and Salvation of the world? How can Joseph not be rich, who received as a gift Him who feeds all and reigns over all? “When the evening was come,” for the Sun of Righteousness had already descended into Hades. Therefore, “there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who was a secret disciple for fear of the Jews.” Nicodemus also came, the one who had come to Jesus by night. O mystery of mysteries, most hidden! Two secret disciples come to hide Jesus in the tomb—by their concealment teaching the hidden mystery of the God who was concealed in the flesh and now in Hades! One of them surpassed the other in zeal for Christ: Nicodemus won praise for his generosity in bringing myrrh and aloes, and Joseph—for his boldness and courage before Pilate. For he, having cast off fear, “boldly went in unto Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus.” See what prudence Joseph displays before Pilate to obtain his request; with what humility he speaks, lest by provoking him he lose what he seeks. He does not say: Give me the body of Jesus, who darkened the sun, split the rocks, shook the earth, opened graves, and tore the temple veil. No—he puts forth the smallest and humblest of requests. “Governor,” he says, “I have come to ask something small of you: permit me to bury the dead body of that Jesus of Nazareth whom you condemned—Jesus, poor, without home, hanged, naked, despised; Jesus, the son of the carpenter; Jesus, who was bound, who had no dwelling, a stranger unknown, rejected by all. Give me this Stranger, for what profit does His body bring to you? Give me this Stranger, for He came from a far country to save strangers; He descended into the dark region to lift up the stranger. Give me this Stranger, for He alone is truly a Stranger—whose homeland is unknown to us strangers. Give me this Stranger, whose Father is unknown to us strangers. Give me this Stranger, whose place, birth, and manner of life are unknown to us strangers. Give me this Stranger, who lived as a stranger among strangers. Give me this Stranger of Nazareth, who had nowhere to lay His head (Matthew 8:20). Give me this Stranger, who, like a stranger in a foreign land, had no dwelling place, and was even born in a manger. Give me this Stranger, who even from the manger had to flee from Herod. Give me this Stranger, who, even when wrapped in swaddling clothes, had to find shelter in Egypt. He had no city, no village, no home, no dwelling, no kin, and He lived in a strange land. Give me, O governor, this naked One hanging on the tree. I will cover Him—I will cover Him who covered my nakedness. Give me this dead man who is also God. I will cover Him, for He has covered my lawlessness. Give me, O governor, this dead man, who in the Jordan buried my sin. I plead for the dead man who endured insult from all: who was sold by a friend, betrayed by a disciple, pursued by His brethren, and struck by a servant. I plead for the dead man who was condemned by those He freed from bondage. I ask you, O governor, for this dead man, who has no father on earth, no friend, no disciple, no relative, no one to bury Him. He alone is the only-begotten of the one Father—God in the world—and there is no other beside Him.” When Joseph thus spoke to Pilate, the latter gave orders to release to him the all-holy body of Jesus. And Joseph, having come to Golgotha, took down from the tree God in the flesh and laid Him upon the earth. And so He lay outstretched upon the ground—He who draws all things upward. Life and Breath became breathless for a little while. The Creator of the many-eyed was rendered sightless. The Resurrection of all was cast down to the earth. God, who raises the dead, was slain in the flesh, and the thunder of the Word of God was silenced. He who holds the heavens in the hollow of His hand is now carried by hands. Tell me, tell me, O Joseph: how is it that thou performest the dread burial of the body of Jesus? Art thou not afraid to bear in thine arms Him whom the cherubim tremble to behold? With what awe dost thou unwrap His divine flesh? Dost thou not quake as thine eyes gaze upon the unveiled nature of the flesh of the God who is beyond nature? Tell me, O Joseph: how wilt thou lay to rest facing east the One who is Himself the East of all Easts? How shalt thou close with thy fingers the eyes of Jesus, who with His immaculate fingers opened the eyes of the blind? How shalt thou shut the mouth of Him who loosed the tongue of the mute? How shalt thou fold the hands of Him who healed the withered hand? How shalt thou bind the feet of Him who strengthened the cripple? How shalt thou lay upon a bed the One who said to the paralytic, “Take up thy bed and walk” (Matthew 9:6)? How wilt thou anoint with ointment the heavenly Myrrh, who poured Himself out and sanctified the world? How wilt thou wipe clean the side of Jesus that still pours forth blood—He who healed the woman with the issue of blood? How wilt thou wash the body of God, who washed and purified all? What lamps wilt thou light for the true Light, who enlighteneth every man? What funeral hymns shalt thou sing for Him whom the heavenly hosts ceaselessly glorify? How wilt thou mourn Him who wept for Lazarus and raised him on the fourth day? How canst thou weep for Him who granted joy to all and destroyed the sorrow of Eve? I bless thy hands, O Joseph, for they touched the hands and feet of Jesus still streaming with blood. I bless thy hands, for they handled the wound still flowing. I bless thy lips, which touched the lips of Jesus and drew forth the Holy Spirit. I bless thine eyes, which gazed into the eyes of Jesus and drank the true light from them. I bless thy face, which drew near to the face of God. I bless thy shoulders, which bore Him who beareth all. I bless thy head, upon which Christ—the Head of all—rested. I bless thy hands, by which thou didst carry Him who carrieth all things. I bless Joseph and Nicodemus, for they bore God before the cherubim did, and ministered to God before the six-winged hosts. Not with wings, but with a linen shroud they covered the Lord. Joseph and Nicodemus bore upon their shoulders Him before whom the cherubim tremble, and all the ranks of the bodiless powers are filled with awe. “Joseph came with Nicodemus” (John 19:38–40), and so the whole divine host of angels gathered there. The cherubim preceded them. The seraphim assembled. The thrones bore Him. The six-winged covered Him. The many-eyed trembled, beholding Jesus with sight extinguished. The powers veiled themselves. The principalities chanted. The dominions were filled with dread. All the armies of the exalted powers stood in awe and asked one another in amazement: What is this strange and incomprehensible sight? Mortal men freely look upon the God whom we bodiless ones dare not gaze upon! Joseph and Nicodemus freely bury Him before whom the cherubim stand with trembling! How has He who is in the bosom of the Father come forth? How has He who filleth all things come to earth? How has He who is hidden from all been revealed? The perfect God, who abideth above with the Father, now appears below with His Mother as a perfect mortal. He who was never seen before—how is He now seen by men? And as a man—and yet as the God who loveth mankind! How has the Invisible become visible? How has the Immaterial taken on flesh? How has the Passionless One suffered? How has the Judge stood before the judgment seat? How has Life tasted death? How is the Uncontainable contained in a tomb? How does He who is in the bosom of the Father dwell in a grave? (cf. John 1:18). How does He who opened the gates of Paradise enter the door of a cave? He who did not break the seal of the Virgin’s womb now breaks open the gates of Hades. How did He appear to the disciples with the doors shut? (cf. John 20:19). How did He open the gates of the heavenly kingdom for men, yet leave intact the seals of the tomb? How is He counted among the dead—He “who is free among the dead”? (Psalm 87:6 LXX). How does the Light that knows no evening appear in the darkness and shadow of death? For what purpose does He descend into Hades? Could it be that He has come to raise up the condemned Adam? Indeed! He has come to seek the first-formed one, like a lost sheep. Indeed, God, the Son of Eve, comes to deliver the captive Adam, and together with him, the captive Eve, from torment. Let us go down with Him and rejoice! Let us make haste and sing praises! Let us hasten to behold how God is reconciled with man—how the all-good Lord frees the condemned. For He who is by nature the Lover of mankind comes with power and authority to bring forth from the depths those held captive from of old, and to number among the citizens of heaven those whom bitter and insatiable death had swallowed up and cut off from God. There, in Hades, was Adam—the first-created, the first to be condemned. There was Abel, the first to die and the first righteous shepherd, a type of the unjust slaughter of the Shepherd Christ. There was Noah, a type of Christ, the builder of the ark—the great Church of God—which saved the wild-beast-like Gentiles from the flood of ungodliness, through the dove—the Holy Spirit—and sent forth the black raven. There was Abraham, the forefather of Christ, who offered to God a sacrifice without slaughter. There was Isaac, whom Abraham bound for sacrifice as a figure of Christ. There was Jacob, who sorrowed in Hades just as he once sorrowed on earth for Joseph. There was Joseph, the prisoner, who was cast into prison in Egypt as a type of Christ—and in the end became lord of all. There was Moses—in the same darkness as when he was laid in the little ark. There was Daniel in the pit of Hades, once thrown into the lions’ den. There was Jeremiah, who had once been cast into the miry pit. There was Jonah, who had been in the belly of the whale, a figure of the eternal and pre-eternal Christ. There also was the godly David, from whom Christ was born in the flesh. But why speak only of David, Jonah, or Solomon? In the dark womb of Hades was the great John—the greatest of the prophets—who proclaimed Christ to all those dwelling there, thus becoming a double Forerunner: a preacher to the living and to the dead. From the prison of Herod, he was sent to the universal prison of Hades, where from ages past the righteous and the unrighteous had been confined. But the prophets and all the righteous continually cried out to the Lord from there, entreating Him to deliver them from their sorrows and the night of eternal darkness. One said, “Out of the belly of hell cried I, and Thou heardest my voice” (Jonah 2:3); another, “Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice” (Psalm 129:1 LXX); one said, “Shew the light of Thy countenance, and we shall be saved” (Psalm 79:4); another, “Thou that sittest upon the cherubim, appear” (Psalm 79:2); another said, “Stir up Thy strength, and come to save us” (Psalm 79:3); another, “Let Thy tender mercies speedily go before us, O Lord” (Psalm 78:8); one said, “Thou hast delivered my soul from the lowest hell” (Psalm 85:13); another, “O Lord, Thou hast brought up my soul from the grave” (Psalm 29:4); one said, “Thou wilt not leave my soul in hell” (Psalm 15:10); and another, “Let my life rise up from corruption unto Thee, O Lord my God” (Jonah 2:6). The all-merciful Lord Christ, hearing them, did not consider it just to make only those who lived during His time on earth or those who would live after Him partakers of His lovingkindness, but also those who before His coming had been held in Hades, who sat in darkness and in the shadow of death. Therefore, to those living in the flesh, He appeared in an animate body, and to the souls separated from the body, He manifested Himself with His divine and most pure soul—which, though separated from the body, was never separated from the Godhead. Let us hasten then in spirit to descend into Hades, to behold how there He overcame the strong tyrant by His strength and disarmed the immortal powers without weapon, by His mere radiance; how He shattered the gates and opened the doors with the Tree of the Cross; how He trampled the serpent and hung up his head; how He destroyed the dividing wall, raised up an unconquerable trophy, slew death, dissolved corruption, and restored man to his original dignity. Yesterday, He rebuked Peter and rejected the aid of angels, saying, “Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to My Father, and He shall presently give Me more than twelve legions of angels?” (Matthew 26:53). But now, in divine authority, as Conqueror and Master, He descends even into Hades and death, accompanied by the bodiless hosts and the invisible orders—not merely twelve legions, but tens of thousands of thousands and myriads of angels, dominions, thrones, six-winged and many-eyed beings, in order to destroy the tyrant through His death. These ranks followed Him—not as co-workers, but with reverence, as attendants upon their Lord and King. For the almighty Christ has no need of assistance; but it is their duty, and their burning desire, to stand before their Lord and God. Therefore, at a single nod, they rush to fulfill His commands and are ever ready for battle with the enemies and lawless. So now too, they descended with the Lord their God into Hades and the nethermost dwellings, to those held captive from of old, that they might in strength bring forth the prisoners. And when the radiant coming of the Lord, with His divine host, shone forth upon the well-guarded, dark, and unknown dungeon and prisons of Hades, the Archangel Gabriel was first to go before all and proclaim to the hostile powers the following command: “Lift up your gates, O ye princes!” Then Michael cried aloud: “And be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors!” (Psalm 23:7). After them the powers said, “Stand aside, ye lawless gatekeepers!” And finally the dominions, with dominion, proclaimed, “Be loosed, ye unbreakable bonds!” Think not that the Lord who has come is unable to pass through closed doors. He commands you, as runaway slaves, to lift up the everlasting gates—that is, to break them down. “Lift up your gates, O ye princes,” for Christ stands before you—the Door of heaven. Make straight the path for Him who approaches the western realm of Hades. His name is the Lord. His going forth is through the gates of death. You made entrances, but He has come to make an exodus. Therefore, delay not—lift up the gates and hasten! Lift them up without delay! And if you hesitate, we will command the gates themselves to lift up without hands: “And be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors!” After these words of the heavenly powers, the gates were lifted, the bonds were loosed, the bolts fell away, and the foundations of the prison were shaken. The hostile powers fled. Casting away their authority, they cried aloud: “Who is this King of glory?” (Psalm 23:8). Who is this who works such wonders in Hades? Who is this who brings forth the dead from ages past? Who is this who breaks our power and leads away those long bound in the prison of hell? Meanwhile, the Lord approached even unto the very depths of Hades, where especially guarded in bonds was the first-created Adam. And the Lord, taking him by the hand, raised him up, saying: “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light” (Ephesians 5:14). I am thy God, and by My authority I command the prisoners to come forth, those in darkness to be enlightened, the dead to arise. Therefore to thee also I say: Arise, O sleeper! For I did not create thee to be held in Hades. Arise from the dead! I am the Life of the dead. Arise, O My image, fashioned after My likeness. Arise, let us go hence. Thou art in Me, and I am in thee; together we are one undivided person. For thee I, thy God, became thy son. For thee I, the Lord, took the form of a servant. For thee, I, who am higher than the heavens, descended to the earth and even beneath the earth. For thee, O man, who art free among the dead, I became as a man. For thee, who wast cast out of the garden, I was delivered up to the Jews in a garden and crucified on a tree. Behold the spittle on My face—it was for thee, that I might restore to thee thy original dignity. Behold the blows upon My cheeks—I endured them that I might refashion thy disfigured image into My own. Behold My scourged back—I accepted stripes that I might lift the burden of sin from thy shoulders. Behold My hands nailed to the Cross—for thee they were stretched out. Behold My feet pierced—for thee, who ran to the tree of transgression. I suffered to restore thee and to open Paradise for thee once more. For thy sake I tasted gall—to heal the bitterness of thy sin acquired through that sweet fruit. I drank vinegar—to destroy the power of that bitter cup that brought death upon thee. I accepted the sponge—that I might blot out the handwriting of thy sins. I accepted the reed—that I might sign the freedom of mankind. My side hath healed the wound in thine. My sleep hath awakened thee from the sleep of death in Hades. The spear that pierced Me hath turned away the sword aimed at thee. So arise, let us go hence! The enemy led thee out of Paradise; I restore thee not to Paradise, but to the heavenly throne. I forbade thee once to reach out to the symbol of the tree of life—but lo! now I, the true Life, am joined to thee. I set the cherubim to guard the gate of Paradise; now I command the cherubim to serve thee. Once thou didst hide from God because of thy nakedness—now I have hidden Myself in thee, O true God, clothed in thy nature. Thou didst wear garments of skins in shame—but I, thy God, have clothed Myself in thy flesh, the robe of blood. So arise, let us go hence— from death into life, from corruption into incorruption, from darkness into eternal light. Arise, let us go hence— from sorrow into joy, from slavery into freedom, from captivity into the delight of Paradise, from earth unto heaven. For I died for this, and I arose again: that I might be Lord both of the dead and of the living. Arise, let us go hence! For My heavenly Father awaits the lost sheep. The ninety and nine sheep—that is, the angels—await their fellow-servant Adam, to see when he shall rise, when he shall return and ascend to God. The cherubic throne is prepared. Those who are to lift you into the heavens are swift to obey. The mansions of heaven are made ready. The treasuries of blessings are opened. The kingdom of heaven, prepared from before the ages, stands ready. Such good things await mankind as “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath entered into the heart of man” (1 Corinthians 2:9). At the word of the Lord, Adam rises with Him and in Him—joined to Him. Eve rises too, and many other bodies of the righteous who from ages past had died in faith arose, proclaiming the Lord’s glorious three-day Resurrection. This Resurrection we too, who believe, shall greet with brightness. We shall behold it with joy and embrace it, rejoicing with the angels, exulting with the bodiless hosts, and glorifying Christ, who raised us from corruption and gave us life. To Him be glory and dominion, with His unoriginate Father, and with the All-Holy, Good, and Life-giving Spirit, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen. source

Today we celebrate the burial of our Savior. He descends into the netherworld to free the dead from the bonds of death, filling Hades with light and awakening the departed from sleep. We rejoice here on earth, anticipating His Resurrection, and we do not fear that corruption will overcome incorruption—for Scripture says, “Neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption” (Psalm 15:10). Perhaps the Jews and Greeks mock our philosophy—the former because they await another Christ, and the latter because they bury their hopes in tombs. Of them, the prophet rightly said: “Their graves are their homes for ever” (Psalm 48:11). But the mockers shall weep—they shall weep when they look upon Him whom they pierced and insulted (John 19:37), while we who weep shall mingle our sorrow with joy. Death snatched away the Master, Christ, but it cannot hold Life itself. It swallowed Him in ignorance, but with Him it shall vomit forth many. Today He willingly remains in Hades, but tomorrow, having struck down its power, He shall rise. Yesterday, suffering on the Cross, He darkened the sun, and day turned to night. Today, death has lost its dominion, for it has taken in one foreign to it. Yesterday, creation mourned, seeing the madness of the Jews, and clothed itself in darkness like a garment of grief. Today, the people that sat in darkness have seen a great light (Matthew 4:16). Yesterday, the earth quaked, as though ready to flee; it threatened to swallow up the living, the mountains trembled, the rocks were torn apart; the temple was stripped bare, as if it too were alive and had torn its garment in mourning, showing that the Holy Place had been profaned. The senseless elements felt the outrage of the crime, while those who committed it were dull and unfeeling. The elements were on the verge of chaos and disorder, but did not break rank, for they perceived the will of the Creator, that He was willingly enduring insult. O new and wondrous miracle! He who spread out the heavens by His word is stretched out upon the wood; He who bound the sea with sand is bound with cords; He who gave honeyed streams to Israel drinks gall; He who adorned the earth with flowers is crowned with thorns; He who smote Egypt with ten plagues and drowned Pharaoh in the sea is struck upon the head with a reed; He upon whom even the Cherubim dare not gaze is spat upon in the face. Yet He who suffered these things prayed for His crucifiers, saying, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). He overcomes malice with kindness, intercedes for the murderers of God, and by doing so draws them toward salvation. He excuses their guilt and charges their ignorance. He does not rage, though He became the object of their mockery. He endures their madness and, out of love for mankind, calls them to repentance. What more need be said? Gaining no benefit from such mercy, they place in a tomb Him whom all creation cannot contain. They seal it, hoping to conceal our salvation; and fearing the Resurrection, they station a guard of soldiers at the tomb. Who has ever heard of a dead man being guarded? More so, who has seen men go to war against a corpse? Who has heard of death becoming suspicious, or causing fear in the killers? Who continues to hate even after an enemy has been slain? Who is not satisfied with the death of his foe? O Jew, why do you fear Him whom you have killed? Why do you dread Him whom you have slain? Why do you tremble before the departed? Why do you quake before the murdered? Why are you troubled over Him whom you crucified? The killing should bring you peace. Be bold, then! If He was a mere man, He will not rise. If He was a mere man, then your crucifixion was justified. If He was a mere man, then His words were false when He said: “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up” (John 2:19). If He was a mere man, then death will hold Him. If He was a mere man, why then, O fool, did you seal the tomb? Wait for the third day, and you will see your folly exposed. Cease your fruitless labor, and you will see the outcome of your deed. Cease your war against Truth. Stop fighting against God—for in that battle, you only destroy yourself. Cease to insult the Sun of Righteousness, and stop thinking that its rays have been extinguished. Cease to hide the Fountain of Life. Stop pestering the authorities and arranging guards. Stop paying money to deceive and corrupt the soldiers. Do not strive in vain. Do not exhaust all your strength in wickedness. Do not dream of conquering God. Do not bribe the soldiers to say one thing for another. Do not lull the people to sleep with your tomb. Do not trust in weapons. Arms will not hinder the Resurrection; seals will not obstruct it; soldiers will not restrain it, nor can it be bought off with silver. Do you not believe? Did you not see how Lazarus cast off death like a cloak of sleep? Did you not see how the dead man obeyed the command, and the burial cloths did not restrain him? Did you not see how he came forth in funeral wrappings, at the words, “Come forth”? Did you not see how the voice restored one undone by death? He who did that can surely do this. He who raised up a servant will without doubt rise Himself. He who gave life to one who had decayed will not leave Himself in death. But the blindness of the Jews is great: they see wonders, but do not perceive them. “They have eyes, but they see not; they have ears, but they hear not” (Psalm 113:13–14). For “the god of this world hath blinded their hearts”, that the light of the Gospel might not shine upon them. Let us leave them for a time in their unbelief. But as for us, imagining in our minds the tomb of the Savior, let us say with those who were with the believing Mary: “They have taken away our Lord, and we know not where they have laid Him” (John 20:13). To Him be glory with the Most Pure Father and the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen. source

St. Kirill of Turov Today is a double joy for all Christians and unspeakable gladness for the world, on account of the feast now come, in place of the sorrow that belonged to the former mystery. And what was that sorrow of the mystery that preceded it? On the day before yesterday, our Lord Jesus Christ, as man, was crucified—but as God, He darkened the sun and turned the moon to blood, and darkness lay over all the earth. As man, He cried out and gave up the ghost—but as God, He shook the earth and broke the stones asunder. As man, He was pierced in the side—but as God, He tore the veil of the old Law in two. As the Lamb, He poured out His blood in place of the lambs formerly slain in the wilderness for sacrifice, and offered Himself as a sacrifice to God the Father for the salvation of the whole world. As man, He was laid in a tomb—but as God, He sanctified the altar of the Church drawn from the Gentiles. As a king, He lay sealed in the grave and was guarded by soldiers—but as God, through the hosts of angels, He proclaimed to the demonic powers in the depths of Hades: “Lift up your gates, O ye princes, and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors: and the King of glory shall come in” (Psalm 23:7). At His word, the gates of Hades were shattered, and its bars broken down to the foundation. The Lord Himself descended into Hades and trampled down the devil’s dominion by the Cross; He slew death, and those who sat in darkness saw a great light, and those bound in poverty and chains were set free. He plundered the treasures of Hades and now has come forth from it in the power of God and in the glory of the holy angels. The captive souls of mankind have been released and are brought into Paradise, glorifying the name of Christ. While Christ was yet in the tomb, the Church called upon the Prophets, for the Prophets are the children of the Church. Suddenly, Christ rose from the dead, leaving the seals of the tomb intact, and the Church received an inexpressible joy; and the Prophets exult with gladness, crying aloud: “Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us” (1 Corinthians 5:7); “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” (Hosea 13:14). For the sake of our salvation Christ rose from the dead, and granted life to those in the graves, and the souls of the saints were enriched beyond nature and taken up from Hades into Heaven. Therefore this feast has a twofold and even threefold name. It is called Pascha because of the lambs slain by Moses in Egypt, whose blood, smeared on the lintels and doorposts of their houses, caused the Israelites to be spared from death by the angel who smote the Egyptians. So also is the meaning of our present Pascha: now the Lamb of God, Jesus Christ, was slain by the priests for the salvation of the whole world, and He led forth from Hades our forefather Adam, for He came not for the righteous only, but for the whole fallen world. He took upon Himself the sins of all men and bore them upon the Cross. Therefore, let us in faith become partakers of the Divine Pascha; let us anoint our lips—the doors of our spiritual house—with the blood of God, that demons may not approach us, seeking to slay us through sin. The Israelites slew the lamb, but the Gentiles partook of Him—and now the prophet calls all the faithful to the Lord’s table, saying: “Receive the Body of Christ, taste ye the Fountain of Immortality.” For by this Body, the head of Hades was crushed, and its sting blunted; by this Body, the dominion and authority of Hades was overthrown; by this Body, the belly of Hades was pierced—for Christ did not return through the gates of Hades, but, having torn open its belly, He drew forth from it the souls of men. For at the moment when the Body of Christ was laid in the tomb, the brazen gates were shattered, the iron bars broken, the gatekeepers trembled, the prison collapsed, and the dead were raised. The Body of Christ put death to death and renewed the whole decaying creation. Christians who partake of this Body with faith are sanctified and receive eternal life. Therefore, brethren, let us partake of this life-giving food, and let us embrace one another with love, forgiving each other all offenses from the heart. The Resurrection of Christ is called the Great Day. Truly this day is great—not because it contains more hours than others, but because of the great miracles wrought by our Savior Jesus Christ. Today angels rejoice with men, and men are sanctified by the Lord, receiving the Holy Spirit. The Evangelist Luke (Luke 24:1–7) tells us that “on the first day of the week, very early in the morning,” the women came to the tomb of Jesus, bringing the spices they had prepared to anoint His body, “but found the stone rolled away from the tomb.” And entering in, they found not the Lord Jesus. And as they stood perplexed, behold, two men in shining garments stood beside them and said: “Why seek ye the Living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen. Remember how He spake unto you of His rising again on the third day. Now go to His disciples and say: Christ Resurrected!” For of you it was already written by the prophet: “Come from the vision, O heralding woman, and say to Zion: Receive from us the joy of good tidings.” Go to the apostles and tell them: “Hide yourselves no more, for the word spoken to you by Jesus is fulfilled: ‘A little while, and ye shall not see Me; and again a little while, and ye shall see Me’” (John 16:16). Remember the prophet who wrote of Christ and of you: “I will smite the Shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered,” but not long after, “stretching forth My hand, I will gather them, and will give them a Shepherd” (cf. Zechariah 13:7). Go, and tell the disciples that they may understand this time foretold by the prophet Hosea, who proclaimed: “He was stricken by the lawless, He healed the world in two days, and on the third day He shall rise again, and we shall live before Him” (cf. Hosea 6:3); and also by the prophet Zephaniah, who said: “Wait for Me, saith the Lord, in the day of My resurrection as a witness, for My mercy has already come down upon the nations” (cf. Zephaniah 3:8). Go, and tell the apostles: “This is the day of which David spoke: ‘Thou, O Lord, shalt arise and have mercy upon Zion, for the time is come’” (cf. Psalm 101:14). I do not speak of that Zion which is trampled by soldiers, but of the Church drawn from the Gentiles, redeemed by the Precious Blood of the Savior—a Church which none shall overcome. Do not think that you are liable to be deceived, as Eve once was; she took counsel from the serpent, but you are hearing the words of angels. Therefore we proclaim to you the joy, and you shall preach salvation to the world. Then the women returned from the tomb and reported all this to the eleven apostles—but they did not believe them, for they had not yet received the Holy Spirit, and so were unsteady, timid, and weak in faith. But Peter and John arose and ran to the tomb. John arrived before Peter but did not enter until Peter came. Peter went in first and saw only the linen wrappings lying there. John, who came first to the tomb, did not refrain from entering out of fear, but rather in obedience to God’s will and the teaching of Scripture—for these two apostles symbolized the Old and the New Law: John represented the Old Law, and Peter the New. The Old Law, which came before the New, although it looked forward to Christ in hope, yet when He came, it did not enter into faith in Him. But the New Law, though it came later, believed in Christ first, having seen that hope in the former Law was vain and could no longer save those who clung to it. For the fledgling has already flown, and the foolish still sit in the empty nest; Christ Resurrected, but the priests and Pharisees bribe the guard and command them to lie about His resurrection. Woe to you, sinful nation! You have been deceived—though you read the prophets who wrote of Christ, you did not understand them. While awaiting the light, you remain in darkness. O cruel hearts! How could you devise wicked plans against the living God? That same day, two of Christ’s disciples were walking to a village near Jerusalem, speaking with each other about all these things—and behold, Jesus Himself met them on the road. For He is like a shepherd who, having lain down to sleep, awakens to find his flock scattered and quickly goes about to gather them. Jesus said to the disciples, “What are these things you are discussing as you walk, and why are you sad?” They answered that they were speaking of Jesus of Nazareth, who had been crucified by the Jewish priests, and of the women who had heard from an angel of His resurrection. They did not recognize Him, for their eyes were still of the flesh, and Christ had not yet breathed on them, saying, “Receive ye the Holy Ghost,” nor had He yet opened their minds. Yet they were aware of the prophecies concerning Christ. Therefore, He said to them, “O fools, and slow of heart to believe!”—and beginning with all the sacred writings, He interpreted to them the things concerning His suffering and resurrection. Was it not Moses, He said, who wrote: “Thy life shall hang in doubt before thee” (Deuteronomy 28:66)? And David wrote of His crucifixion: “They pierced My hands and My feet” (Psalm 21:17); and again: “They gave Me gall for My food, and in My thirst they gave Me vinegar to drink” (Psalm 68:22); and of His burial: “They have laid Me in the lowest pit, in darkness, and in the shadow of death” (Psalm 87:7); and also of His resurrection: “Let God arise, and let His enemies be scattered” (Psalm 67:2); and again: “Arise, O God, judge the earth” (Psalm 81:8). And Isaiah spoke of His disciples: “Having arisen, I shall gather My brethren, and they shall see My glory and proclaim it among the nations, and many people from among the Gentiles shall be Mine” (cf. Isaiah 66:19–20). While they spoke, they drew near to the village to which they were traveling. The disciples urged Jesus, saying: “Abide with us, for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.” And when He reclined with them at table, He took bread, blessed it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened: they saw the wounds from the nails in His hands and recognized that it was Christ Himself. But He became invisible to them. They returned to Jerusalem and told all this to the apostles, affirming that Christ is truly risen, that He had appeared to them, and that they knew Him by the wounds of the nails. And we, brethren, having beheld the Resurrection of Christ, let us bow down before Him and cry out: “Thou art our God, and we know none other beside Thee. Thou art seen as man, and known as God!” Let all the earth bow before Thee and sing: “Have mercy on us, O Lord, who believe in Thee!” To Thee we pray, with tender hearts: cleanse our sins, remit the debts of our souls that praise Thee! Now do we serve Thee, who didst suffer for us and accept death, as Thy humble servants. Yesterday, with the thief, we were crucified with Thee—today we are risen with Thee! Yesterday, with Longinus, we cried out: “Truly this was the Son of God!” And now with the angels we declare: “Truly, Christ Resurrected!” Yesterday, with Nicodemus, we took Thee down from the Cross; today, with Magdalene, we behold Thee risen. Yesterday, with Joseph, we laid Thee in the tomb; but today, like Mary, we hear from Thee the joyful words: “Go, tell My brethren that they go into Galilee, and there shall they see Me” (Matthew 28:10). And now, as into Galilee, gathering in this holy church, we rejoice and say: “This is the day which the Lord hath made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” For Thine is the Kingdom, O Christ, and the glory, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen. source

By Met. Korniliy (Titov) Dear brothers and sisters! In the profoundly rich and spiritually meaningful service for the Exaltation of the Honorable and Life-Giving Cross of the Lord, the significance and meaning of the sacrificial death on the Cross, which the Lord offered for the redemption of the sins of the human race, are revealed. After this sacrifice, the life-giving wood of the Cross becomes an all-strengthening power for the struggle against sins. Let us recall the words of the festal troparion: “Save, O Lord, Thy people, and bless Thine inheritance”—the Lord acknowledges us, sinful people, as His inheritance, for us the Savior shed His divine blood on the Cross. “And preserving Thine own by Thy Cross”—the life-giving Cross is the protector of all Orthodox Christians, the foundation of our life according to Christ’s commandments. The Cross is given to every Christian at Holy Baptism and accompanies our entire life. The Cross overshadows the final resting place of man—the grave mound. Great is the power of the life-giving Cross! In the church hymns of today’s feast, the honorable and life-giving Cross is praised as “the glory of angels, the adornment of apostles, the strength of the righteous, the praise of the faithful, the beauty of priests, the victory of the pious, the door to paradise, the haven of salvation, the hope of Christians, the guide to the lost, the refuge for the storm-tossed, the healer of the weak, the resurrection of the dead, the scourge of demons, the guardian of the whole universe, the invincible weapon, the victory in battles, the beauty of the Church, whereby the power of death was destroyed and abolished, and we are raised from earth to heaven.” In praising the Lord’s Cross, the Holy Church calls us to kiss the holy Cross with joy and fear—fear because of our sins, for we are unworthy of its holiness, and joy because of the salvation granted to the world through the voluntary sacrifice of our Savior on the Cross. Today is both a sorrowful and a joyful day. It is sorrowful because we see the Lord Jesus Christ crucified on the Cross, enduring the most painful and shameful death. It is joyful if we understand why Jesus Christ died on the Cross. We know that every person is born with original sin and then commits many sins of their own. Yet nothing impure, nothing sinful, can enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Before Christ’s coming, no one could enter the Heavenly Kingdom; all were destined to perish in Hades. This would have been so forever if Jesus Christ had not suffered and died for us on the Cross. We could never atone for our guilt on our own. “With His blood He washed away our sinful defilement.” Jesus Christ not only offered a sacrifice on the Cross for our sins but also granted us grace and strength to preserve ourselves from new sins. When a rich man forgives a poor man’s debt, which he cannot repay, he does a good deed. But he does an even greater good when, beyond that, he gives the poor man money to restore his livelihood and live without dependence on others. Look upon the Cross: is not Jesus Christ that compassionate rich man? Did He not give even Himself, His life-giving blood and life, so that we might receive grace from God and begin a new life? If Jesus Christ had not died on the Cross, we would not have baptism, nor confession, through which the sins committed after baptism are forgiven. If Christ had not offered His most pure Body in sacrifice on the Cross, we would not have the sacrament of Communion, in which we are united with Christ. Much more could be said about what we owe to Christ and what we have thanks to the death of Christ the Savior on the Cross. What does Jesus Christ require of us for His sufferings? Only that we live according to His teaching and His commandments. The Holy Church today solemnly celebrates the finding of the honorable Cross of the Lord. This feast was originally established by the Church in honor of the joyful event that occurred, as is known, three centuries after the Lord’s Resurrection. According to ancient Christian historians, the finding of the Lord’s Cross was accomplished by the holy Emperor Constantine the Great and his mother, Helena. Having deep reverence for the Cross, through which Emperor Constantine achieved many victories, he desired to build a church on Golgotha. To fulfill this desire, his pious mother Helena traveled to Jerusalem with a firm resolve to find the Lord’s Cross, the location of which had been lost during times of persecution against Christians. It was difficult for the Equal-to-the-Apostles Empress Helena to find the Cross, for Jews and pagans, intolerant of worship of the Crucified One, sought to erase the memory of the Lord’s Cross. Along with the crosses of the thieves crucified with Christ on Golgotha, the Lord’s Cross was buried in the ground, and a pagan temple was built over the site. By divine inspiration, an elderly Jew revealed the location of the Cross. When they began to dig, a wondrous fragrance filled the air, and then three crosses were uncovered. Identifying the Lord’s Cross was difficult, as the tablet with the inscription “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews” lay separately. Thus, a higher, divine testimony was needed to confirm the Lord’s Cross, not a human one. Saint Macarius, then Patriarch of Jerusalem, by divine inspiration, ordered the crosses to be placed upon a deceased maiden. The touch of two crosses produced no effect, but upon the touch of the third Cross, the maiden came to life. All saw that this miracle was wrought by the power of the life-giving Cross, which grants resurrection and life. The found Cross was solemnly carried to the Jerusalem temple, where Empress Helena joyfully bowed and kissed the honorable Cross. The fame of the miracle of the Cross’s finding drew crowds to the temple. Due to the multitude, not all could see the honorable Cross. Then Patriarch Macarius took the Cross, stood on an elevated place, and raised it, showing it to the people, who in joyful rapture ceaselessly cried out, “Lord, have mercy!” From that time, the Holy Church established the annual celebration of the Finding and Exaltation of the Honorable and Life-Giving Cross of the Lord. In memory of this event, the Holy Church performs the rite of the exaltation of the cross during the festal service, when the bishop, in the center of the church, blesses all four directions of the world with the cross, lowering it downward and raising it upward, symbolizing the bitter fall of humanity and its rising with Christ from the depths of Hades to the Kingdom of God, from death to eternal, blessed life. Thus, the cross, once an instrument of shameful execution, became the instrument of our salvation from sin. On it, our Savior was nailed by His divine, holy will and love for us. The Cross of Christ thus became a symbol not of evil and shame but of honor and the greatest good for all humanity. Christ said to His disciples before His death: “No man taketh My life from Me, but I lay it down of Myself” (John 10:18). The Lord, of His own free will, gave Himself to death so that others might live eternal life with God. Christ voluntarily gave His life, enduring the horror of abandonment, betrayal, and suffering for each of us, because each of us is precious to Him, loved by Him. We distance ourselves from God through our sins, self-love, and lack of faith. Therefore, for the salvation of each of us, He would endure again the horror of death on the Cross, as He revealed to the Apostle Peter in a wondrous vision during his flight from Rome. Thus, the Cross is an image of Christ’s love for us, His followers, and at the same time a sign of our reciprocal love, devotion, and fidelity to the Savior, tested not by words but by complete dedication of our lives to God, through sacrificial love on the Cross, which can grant life to others. We venerate the Cross, which for us signifies victory over evil and death. This is why we must make the sign of the cross with special reverence, for it is the sign before which all dark forces tremble, vanquished by the weapon of the Cross. The saving power of the Cross, sprinkled with the blood of the Lord, has extended to the entire human race. Let us point to at least a few of the countless examples of the power of the honorable and life-giving Cross. According to the account of Saint Prochorus, a disciple of John the Theologian, the holy apostle healed a sick man lying by the wayside through the sign of the Cross (Life of St. John the Theologian, September 26). A certain pious man named Ir, following the instruction of the holy Apostle Philip, traced the image of Christ’s Cross with his hand upon the afflicted limbs of the sick Aristarchus—and immediately the withered hand was healed, the eye regained sight, the ear was opened, and the sick man became whole (Life of the Holy Apostle Philip, November 14). When Saint Epiphanius, still unbaptized in his childhood, was thrown down by a furious donkey and severely injured his thigh, a certain Christian who found him made the sign of the Cross over him three times and thereby healed the youth (Life of St. Epiphanius of Cyprus, March 12). But the wonder-working Cross of Christ not only heals ailments; it also renders the human body unharmed by fire, wild beasts, deadly poisons, and other mortal dangers. Thus, Saint Thecla, the righteous, made the sign of the Cross over “a multitude of wood and kindling gathered beneath her for her burning”—and the fire dared not touch her body (Life of St. Thecla, September 24). The holy martyr Basilissa of Nicomedia protected herself with the sign of the Cross and stood “for many hours in a burning furnace” without any harm (Life of the Holy Martyr Basilissa, September 4). Condemned to be torn apart by beasts, the holy martyrs Abdon and Sennis shielded themselves with the holy Cross, and the ferocious animals, like gentle lambs, kissed the feet of God’s servants (Life of the Holy Martyrs Abdon and Sennis, July 1). Under the influence of the healing power of Christ’s Cross, even deadly poisons were rendered harmless. Thus, Saint Bishop Julian, having traced the holy Cross on a cup offered to him by evildoers, drank the deadly poison and felt no harm in his body (Spiritual Meadow, Chapter 3). Similarly, the venerable Benedict made the sign of the Cross over a glass vessel containing poison, and the poisonous container shattered as if struck by a stone (Life of St. Benedict, March 12). For those who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and acknowledge the power of His suffering on the Cross for sinful humanity, the sign of His Cross is a great strength and protection against all evil and misfortune, against the schemes of the enemy of our salvation—the devil. After this, brothers and sisters, we cannot but turn to our conscience and ask it whether we believe and live as befits a Christian, called to become an heir of eternal life, redeemed by the blood of the Son of God. In times of persecution, Christians always cherished the treasures that the pagan world threatened to take from them. The Holy Church prescribes that every Christian should protect themselves with the sign of the Cross throughout their life. But how is this instruction actually fulfilled? Observing how some Christians make the sign of the Cross, one is sometimes astonished, even horrified, by the carelessness with which it is done. Holy Scripture pronounces a curse for negligence toward holy things: “Cursed be he that doeth the work of the Lord deceitfully” (Jer. 48:10). Consider the correctness of making the sign of the Cross, by which we, as it were, declare: “I am a Christian, I believe in Christ, in Him I was baptized, in Him I hope and trust.” The sign of the Cross is the mark by which God turns His merciful attention to us, pouring out His saving grace. How greatly do those sin who, instead of making the sign of the Cross properly and devoutly, perform something resembling neither a cross, nor a bow, nor a prayer—merely a mechanical motion of the hand, the meaning of which they themselves do not understand. Such waving “maketh the demons rejoice.” But of those who make the sign of the Cross devoutly, the writings of the holy fathers say: “And whoso maketh the sign of the Cross rightly, placing their hands upon their forehead, their belly, their right shoulder, and then their left, the angels, beholding, rejoice, seeing the true Cross imaged upon their faces.” What explains this lamentable negligence toward the sign of the Cross? Most likely, such careless waving of the hand occurs because negligence and distraction reign in the soul. This suggests that such a person has weakened in faith itself, forgetting the Savior crucified on the Cross and His sufferings, which freed us from the power of the devil and granted us eternal life. Christ calls all Christians: “Take up thy Cross, and follow Me.” Thus, the apostles, martyrs, and venerable saints followed Christ with joy. They willingly sacrificed for the Lord all the blessings of the world, even their very lives, and were not deceived in their hope, inheriting the eternal and blessed Kingdom, as the Apostle Paul says: “If we suffer with Him, we shall also be glorified together with Him” (Rom. 8:17). We, Old Believers, cannot but recall the example of the courageous bearing of the Cross by the confessors of ancient Orthodoxy—Lady Theodosia Morozova, her sister Princess Evdokia, and those who suffered with them. Thus, Protopope Avvakum describes their feats: “They, putting aside womanly weakness, took upon themselves manly wisdom and went to suffer torments for Christ’s sake.” When their tormentors offered them to renounce the old faith, they replied: “For the faith of our fathers, we are ready to die. Even if we die, we shall not betray the true faith!” Thus did the great zealots of ancient piety fulfill the words of the Gospel: “Take up thy Cross, and follow Me.” They were co-crucified with Christ, and the world was crucified to them, as the Apostle says. Why, then, do most people today not follow Christ? Perhaps it is due to unbelief or weak faith, attachment to the fleeting blessings of temporal life, pride, sloth, spiritual ignorance, or negligence toward salvation. In his time, Saint Cyprian wrote of this: “Christians have given themselves over to the spirit of the world. Peace has lulled their faith to sleep. All have begun to care for worldly and temporal things. These bonds, these chains, have suppressed faith, bound the soul, and made it prey and food for the serpent, who treads the earth by God’s judgment” (On the Fallen). The words of Saint John Chrysostom speak of the same: “If someone from outside came to us and thoroughly knew both Christ’s commandments and the disorder of our lives, I do not know how they could imagine enemies of Christ worse than us, for we walk a path as if resolved to go against His commandments” (Homily on Repentance). Bishop Michael Semenov, in his homily “On the Feast of the Exaltation of the Lord’s Cross,” reflects on the inner strength of Christians in times of persecution: “It is said that in Old Belief, since the eight-pointed Cross, which was once removed even from prayer houses, began to be solemnly raised on bell towers, zeal for the faith, love, and mercy have diminished—not to mention that men have disfigured their beards. Whether this is so, I do not know, nor do I wish to engage in rebuke. I only wish to say that the external exaltation of the ‘Cross’—gold, jewels, flowers on the sign of the Son of Man—does not yet signify the true triumph of Christianity. The highest place a person can give to the Cross is in their soul and upon their shoulders, following the first Cross-Bearer. And this Cross is constantly in danger; in outwardly peaceful times, even more so than ever. Great attention and vigilance of will and spirit are required to bear this Cross high and preserve it from desecration.” “If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself,” teaches the Lord. To deny oneself, according to the Savior’s commandment, means to overcome passions, sinful inclinations, and attractions to sin and all evil. All people, including the greatest saints, were not free from the temptations of passions and were in many ways like us. But they did not allow passions to rule over them, subduing and suppressing them in time. If, due to their natural weakness, they fell in the struggle with passions, they quickly rose and, with renewed strength and experience, re-entered the battle until they overcame them. Thus, they ascended higher and higher, rightly called ascetics and valiant, angel-like warriors. In the bitter lot of earthly life, all experience sorrows and burdens. Yet some, through the Cross of earthly deprivations, griefs, and sorrows, ascend to heaven, to paradise, like the wise thief who endured torments with repentance and called upon Christ. Others, like the second, wicked thief, enduring the Cross of temporal sorrows and torments, descend to Hades for eternal torments, for they do not repent of their sins or follow Christ. But Christ’s followers must not only bear their Cross in His footsteps but also be crucified upon it, as the Apostle says: “And they that are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts” (Gal. 5:24). For since man transgressed God’s commandments, sin dwells in him, like a heavy stone weighing down his heart, all his feelings, and darkening his mind. In man, there is a ceaseless struggle between the immortal spirit, which the eternal God “breathed” into him, and the flesh, which must be nailed to the Cross for salvation. This does not mean tormenting or mutilating our body. No, the body itself does neither evil nor good. We must crucify the evil that lives in our flesh—we must “mortify,” as the Apostle teaches, “our members which are upon the earth: fornication, uncleanness, inordinate affection, evil concupiscence, and covetousness, which is idolatry” (Col. 3:5). All passions, all evil impulses, are enemies living in our flesh, warring against God’s laws. These we must conquer with God’s help. To do this, as the Apostle says, we must “put on the whole armour of God, the breastplate of righteousness, and take the shield of faith” (Eph. 6:11), that is, we must arm ourselves with virtues. For example, armed with humility, we overcome pride; with temperance, we cast down fornication and lust; with fasting, we mortify gluttony and drunkenness. Above all, we must arm ourselves with Christian love, which, as the Apostle says, is “the bond of perfectness” (Col. 3:14), for love directs us to do what is truly beneficial for our salvation and to faithfully fulfill our duties to God and neighbor. Thus, brothers and sisters, let us strive to crucify our flesh with its passions and lusts, boldly fighting against sins, that we may, even here on earth, taste the sweetness of the blessedness God has prepared for those who love Him. But if we serve sin and do not crucify our flesh, know that it will crucify us; if we give free rein to passions, they will become our tormentors and destroyers, leading us, in the end, to the grave, for “the wages of sin is death” (Rom. 6:23), and from the grave to the abyss. Such is the outcome of earthly sufferings if a person does not repent in life. “By many tribulations we must enter into the Kingdom of God,” which is “within us.” The first step is repentance, the turning of our will from evil and sin to good. A constant, often painful struggle with passions is necessary, which raises us to the Cross of co-crucifixion with Christ. A Christian must be united with the tree of life, rejecting self-pity, entering the battle with passions, and crucifying themselves. Wondrous is this path—it takes away, yet in taking gives; it cuts off, yet in cutting grafts; it kills, yet in killing gives life. Great is the blessing and labor of Christ’s Cross, by which death is trampled and life is granted. Let us pray to the Lord to send us resolve and strength in the feat of spiritual warfare, delivering us from passions. Let us look with faith and hope upon the life-giving Cross, repeating: “By the power of Thy Cross, preserve us, O Lord.” Brothers and sisters! Bearing our Cross, let us follow the Lord under the banner of His Cross, serving the Author and Perfecter of our faith, who granted us salvation through His divine mercy, love for mankind, and redemptive death on the honorable and life-giving Cross. Let us bear our Cross with humility, patience, and gratitude, that in the day of our passing we may hear the joyful voice of Christ in the Kingdom of Heaven: “Where I am, there shall also My servant be: if any man serve Me, him will My Father honour” (John 12:26). source

The Exaltation of the Lord’s Cross is a great, non-moveable feast of the Lord, celebrated on September 27 (September 14 in the Old Style). This day not only commemorates the finding of the Cross on which the Savior was crucified but also glorifies the Cross as the instrument of our salvation. As the first Adam, representing all humanity, fell into sin by eating the forbidden fruit from the tree growing in the midst of Paradise, so through the tree of the Lord’s Cross, on which Christ—the Second Adam—was crucified, we received salvation. If the first tree brought death, the second served to restore life to the entire human race. The Cross is repeatedly prophesied in the Old Testament. Thus, while in bondage in Egypt, the Hebrews were spared from the tenth plague (the death of the firstborn) by anointing their doorposts with the sacrificial blood of lambs. The blood prefigured Christ’s sacrifice, and the threshold and doorposts symbolized the crucifixion on the Cross (its top, bottom, right, and left sides). During the crossing of the Red Sea, Moses raised his staff, making a vertical motion, and the waters parted. After crossing the sea on dry ground, he raised his staff again, this time horizontally, and the waters closed, drowning the pursuing Egyptians. This act revealed a prophecy of victory over the enemy of the human race through the Cross. During their journey through the desert, the Hebrews encamped in the shape of a cross, placing the tabernacle at the center. In the battle against the Amalekites, Joshua led the army while Moses stood on a hill with his arms outstretched in the form of a cross, prefiguring Jesus Christ’s victory over the devil through the Cross. When venomous snakes attacked, the Lord commanded Moses to make a bronze serpent, and those who looked upon it were healed. The bronze serpent also prefigured Christ’s crucifixion: “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up” (John 3:14). All these and other prefigurations directly pointed to the future instrument by which Christ trampled death. Thus, the cross, once an instrument of cruel, torturous, and shameful execution, became the instrument of our salvation and sanctification. If Christ is the sacrifice for sin, the Cross became the altar on which that sacrifice was offered. After Christ’s crucifixion, His Cross, according to the custom of the time, was buried along with two others near the place of execution. After the Romans destroyed Jerusalem, a temple of Venus was built on the site of the crucifixion. In 312, on the eve of the decisive Battle of the Milvian Bridge, the future Emperor Constantine the Great beheld a vision of the Cross. At the same time, he heard a voice saying, “By this sign, thou shalt conquer.” Ordering the image of the cross to be placed on his soldiers’ shields, Constantine indeed defeated his rival Maxentius. Having become emperor and declared Christianity the state religion, Constantine, in gratitude, resolved to find the Lord’s Cross. However, being occupied with state affairs, he could not undertake the search himself, so his mother, Empress Helena, took up the task. According to Tradition, a local Jew named Judas indicated the place where the instruments of the Crucifixion were buried, beneath a pagan temple. Excavations uncovered all three crosses, but the Lord’s Cross was identified only through a miracle. By applying each cross in turn to a gravely ill woman, the Life-Giving Cross was found when it granted her healing. According to another account, the Cross raised a deceased person being carried past. Consequently, Bishop Macarius of Jerusalem raised (exalted) the Lord’s Cross above the crowd eager to witness the miracle. By Emperor Constantine’s decree, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre was built in 335 on the site of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection. Since the Cross was found shortly after the feast of Pascha, its discovery was initially celebrated on the second day after Christ’s Resurrection. However, after the construction of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the day of the Cross’s finding and exaltation was linked to the second day of celebrations for the church’s consecration. Knowing that Christ was transfigured shortly before His crucifixion, the Exaltation of the Cross was also aligned with the fortieth day after the feast of the Lord’s Transfiguration. Thus, according to the Jerusalem church’s typikon, the Exaltation of the Cross was originally a post-feast of the consecration (renewal) of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. However, as the center of the Christian world shifted to Constantinople, this local Jerusalem celebration gave way to the universal Christian veneration of the Lord’s Cross, and September 14 transformed from a post-feast into an independent solemn feast. The iconography of the Exaltation of the Lord’s Cross has been known since the ninth century. However, its subject is not based on the moment of the Cross’s discovery by Empress Helena but on the annual rite performed in the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople. Thus, the cross held by Bishop Macarius appears small, like a table cross. This rite was established after Emperor Heraclius recovered the Lord’s Cross in 628 from Persian captivity, where it had been taken after the Persians plundered Jerusalem and carried away many sacred relics, including the Cross. In icons, Bishop Macarius is depicted standing on a raised platform of steps, blessing the worshippers with the cross. Nearby are deacons assisting the bishop. Among the worshippers and chanters, recognizable by their pointed hats, stand Empress Helena, sometimes holding a dish with the nails found near the Cross, and Emperor Constantine. From around the sixteenth century, the cross began to be depicted larger than human height, aligning the image more closely with the historical events. The canon for the feast of the Exaltation was composed by Saint Cosmas of Maiuma, an eighth-century hymnographer and foster brother of Saint John of Damascus, who authored many canons for the twelve great feasts. A distinctive feature of this canon is the inclusion of two ninth odes. On this feast, the Rite of Veneration of the Cross is performed, and in cathedral churches, a special solemn Rite of the Exaltation of the Cross may be conducted. The day of the Exaltation of the Honorable and Life-Giving Cross is a fast day, with only food prepared with vegetable oil permitted. source

Luke, reading 54, ch. 10:38–42, ch. 11:27–28 Dear brothers and sisters! Today, the Holy Church celebrates the Nativity of our Most Holy Lady, the God-bearer and Ever-Virgin Mary. This is the first Great Feast of the Twelve in the church year. With it begins the history of the granting of paradisiacal bliss to the perishing human race, the economy of our salvation. The church year begins with the Nativity of the Most Holy God-bearer not by chance, for this event heralded the coming salvation of humanity. For the transgression of the first humans in Paradise, the Lord imposed a punishment upon them. This punishment was expressed in the expulsion of our foreparents from Paradise and the deprivation of divine grace, which led to sorrows and calamities, even unto the death of mankind. “Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned” (Rom. 5:12). But the merciful Creator did not abandon His creation—man—to destruction, nor did He condemn him to eternal torment. Instead, He gave a promise that He would deliver the entire human race from the bondage of sin and the curse of death. To fulfill this promise, the Lord chose the Hebrew people, to whom He promised through the patriarch Abraham that from his seed would be born the Redeemer of the world. Therefore, every family held the hope that among its descendants might be born the Savior of the world, and a family without children considered itself rejected by God and was despised even by its kin. Shortly before the Nativity of Christ, in Israel, in the small town of Nazareth, there lived a righteous man named Joachim, descended from the lineage of King David. He had a pious wife named Anna, who came from the lineage of the high priest Aaron, dedicated to the service of God. The couple lived righteously and God-fearingly; they were modest and humble people, yet they had no children. Old age was approaching, and with it, their hope of having children was fading. This greatly distressed the couple, for in those times, childlessness was considered a punishment from God. Heavy was the sorrow of the aged Joachim and Anna, yet they did not murmur against the Lord but called upon Him with hope. Saint Andrew of Crete says: “The holy couple was wounded by the sting of childlessness, they grieved, sorrowed, and were afflicted, bearing the reproach of their barrenness. Joachim and Anna lamented that they had no heir of their lineage, they grieved and sorrowed, but the spark of hope had not yet entirely faded in them: both sent up prayers to God for the granting of a child, they did not depart from the temple, fervently beseeching God that He might grant fruit to the barren.” Sacred history recounts how deeply barrenness was felt by women in those times. How many tears, both in secret and within the walls of the temple, were shed by the childless Anna! Heavy, too, was the sorrow of Joachim. It became many times heavier when, on the day of the Passover feast, his offering to God was not accepted in the temple. The high priest, unwilling to receive his gift, said: “It is not meet to accept gifts from thee, for thou hast no children, and therefore hast no blessing of God. Surely, thou hast some secret sins, and thou wilt not repent of them.” From sorrow and public shame, Joachim went straight from the temple to the mountains, to a desolate place, and there he remained long in prayer and fasting, unable to show himself before others. Word of what happened in the temple reached Anna. Great was her sorrow, for she considered herself the cause of their family’s disgrace. Weeping, she withdrew from others, saying: “Now I am more wretched than all: rejected by God, scorned by men, and forsaken by my husband! For what should I now weep: for my widowhood or for not being deemed worthy to be called a mother?” Those close to her tried to console Anna, but her sorrow did not lessen. Once, as Tradition relates, while secluded in her garden for prayer, she saw a nest in a tree where a bird tended to its fledglings. Weeping bitterly, Anna began to lament: “Woe is me, childless! Surely, I am the most sinful, for I alone among all women am so humbled. Woe is me! To whom shall I liken myself? Neither to the birds of the air nor to the beasts of the earth, for even they bring forth their fruit unto Thee, O Lord God, while I alone am barren. O Lord, Thou knowest the reproach of childlessness; cease the sorrow of my heart, open my womb, and make me, the barren, fruitful, that we may offer the child born of me unto Thee, blessing, singing, and glorifying Thy mercy.” And Tradition has preserved the account of how Anna suddenly heard words addressed to her: “Anna, Anna! Thy prayer is heard; thy tears have appeared before God, and thou shalt conceive and bear a daughter, and through her shall all the tribes of the earth receive blessing, and salvation shall be granted to the whole world. Her name shall be Mary,” which in Hebrew means “lady” and “hope.” Hearing these words, Anna rejoiced in her heart, went to the temple, and vowed to dedicate her child to God’s service. At the same time, a voice came to Joachim in the wilderness: “Joachim! God hath heard thy prayer and is pleased to grant thee His grace; thy wife Anna shall conceive and bear thee a Daughter, whose birth shall be a joy to the whole world.” With great joy, Joachim returned home, joyful was their meeting with his wife, and joyful was their fervent prayer of thanksgiving to God. In fulfillment of God’s promise, a Daughter was born to the righteous Joachim and Anna, whom they named Mary, who later became the Mother of the Savior of the world. Thus were the bonds of barrenness loosed, and from barren parents, through their fervent prayer, sprang the Fruit—the Most Pure Virgin. In the Holy Gospel, it is said: “When the time cometh for a child to be born, there is sorrow; but when it is born, there remaineth only joy, for a new life hath entered the world… And when a child is born, those around marvel: what shall be the fate of this child?” People rejoice at the birth of a new person, though they know not what this child will become or what it shall bring into the world, yet all hope that the newborn shall bring goodness into the world. How great, then, was the joy of the aged parents Joachim and Anna and their kin, when not only was their barrenness resolved, but it was proclaimed to them that through their Daughter, salvation would be granted to the world. “Thy Nativity, O Virgin God-bearer, hath proclaimed joy to the whole universe…” Saint John of Damascus says: “The day of the Nativity of the God-bearer is a feast of universal joy, for through the God-bearer the entire human race was renewed, and the sorrow of our foremother Eve was transformed into joy.” The Virgin Mary was born, as the Gospel says, not of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man; she came into the world as the fruit of prayer, as a gift from God! Her appearance was like the final link in a long chain of righteous ones who, throughout human history, in humility upheld purity, faith, and devotion to God. They worshipped Him in spirit and truth with all fidelity and love. In this long line of people, there were sinners and saints, but all shared one common trait—humility and repentance. Throughout their lives, they struggled in God’s name—not against others, but against themselves—to purify their souls so that God might triumph within them. Gradually, from generation to generation, they prepared the Heiress of their lineage, who chose purity from the very beginning and lived wholly in fidelity to her great calling. Saint Nicholas Cabasilas writes in his “Homily on the Nativity of the God-bearer”: “All preceding generations ascended to Her, either because the ancient relates to the new as a shadow receives its form and shape from the body, or because She was the common adornment even before Her coming into the world. She alone, among all people from the beginning of time to the last days, stood against all evil and sin and returned to God, unblemished, the beauty she had received from Him.” In the Nativity of the God-bearer, the earth, which until that time bore the corruption of sin with thorns, truly “gave her fruit” (Ps. 66). Now all creation felt itself filled with greater beauty and light when the common Beauty shone forth. Having vowed to dedicate their child to God’s service, the pious elders Joachim and Anna rejoiced in their parental consolation for only three years before presenting Mary to God as an honest gift, leading her into the Jerusalem Temple. There, the pure and spotless Virgin dwelt in silence and prayer, studying the Holy Scriptures, engaging in handiwork, growing in wisdom, and the grace of God was with her. With all her thoughts, feelings, and deeds, she was, without a shadow of doubt, wholly devoted to the Lord. Today we celebrate the Nativity of the Mother of God, with whose coming into the world began the overcoming of the separation that existed between God and man since the Fall. As it is sung in the words of the festal troparion: “For from thee hath shone forth the Sun of Righteousness, Christ our God, who hath broken the curse and given blessing.” Through Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross, the curse was broken, and divine love began to pour forth upon mankind. This was preceded by the Nativity of the God-bearer, who became the Bridge between heaven and earth, the Door of the Savior’s Incarnation opened to heaven, the Mother of God and the Mother of all Christians. She is the God-bearer through the wondrous birth of the Son of God in virginity and the Mother of Christians through adoption. We Christians, by God’s mercy, are called by the Lord His brethren (Heb. 2:11), and thus we may be called the sons of the God-bearer. As the Mother of God, she has the boldness to possess the grace befitting a mother toward her son. As the Mother of Christians, by virtue of maternal love, she shows boundless and unending mercy to Christians, such as a mother can show to her children. Brothers and sisters, let us offer worthy gifts to our Mother for the boundless sea of her mercies granted to us. What gift can we offer in return, and wherein lies our reverence for the Holy Virgin? It lies in keeping our thoughts and feelings in purity and repentance, in abstinence and humility, in prayer and fasting—examples of which the Most Holy Virgin has shown us. “Thus, the first purity in the course of time was presented to the human race by the Mother of God,” writes Saint Nicholas Cabasilas. “In her, man with great advantage demonstrated the ability to contend with sin. The Blessed Virgin, through restraint of mind, uprightness of will, and greatness of soul, from beginning to end cast out all defilement.” Our prayer of gratitude to her must always be with contrition of heart and tears, with repentance and compunction, with hope and trust in her intercession. Saint Gregory Palamas, in his discourse “On the Saving Nativity of the God-bearer,” writes: “Offer to the Virgin honored today the most beautiful and most fitting gift—your sanctification and purity of body, acquired through abstinence and prayer. Behold, all of you, how chastity—fasting and contrite prayer coming together—revealed Joachim and Anna as the parents of the chosen Vessel of God. And if we hold fast to virtues and prayers, diligently and constantly abiding in God’s temple, we too shall find purity of heart, which contains and reveals God to us. Let us turn from evil, through good deeds turn to God, and strive through the path of abstinence and prayer to erase our evil habits and transform our inner thoughts into better ones, having as our helper Her who, for the prayers and God-pleasing life of her parents, was granted to us today.” The Holy Virgin drew much from her “root”—her virtuous ancestors—and surely her purity and holiness were strengthened by her parents, the God-bearers Joachim and Anna. The parents of the Virgin Mary possessed an essential spiritual quality—a profound degree of humility. They did not murmur against the Lord for the dishonor they innocently endured as childless. They bore the reproach of those around them with humility, not for a year or two, but for decades, and for their longsuffering, they received God’s grace, which is given only to the humble, for this is a quality of the Lord Himself, who says: “Learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart” (Matt. 11:29). For the meekness and humility that the Virgin Mary embodied, she was chosen by the Holy Spirit, who overshadowed her. She alone, among all the human race, was the embodiment of deep and sincere humility, declaring at the Annunciation: “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word” (Luke 1:38). She alone could bring forth the Fruit of her womb, through whom salvation came into the world by His humility and obedience to the will of the Heavenly Father. For our sake, Christ came into the world: “Taking upon himself the form of a servant, being made obedient unto death, even the death of the cross” (Phil. 2:8). Thus, the foundation of the miracle of the Nativity of the God-bearer and the coming of the Savior into the world was the humility of the Virgin Mary. On humility, which cleanses man from sin and raises him to heavenly heights, much has been written by the holy fathers. Thus, the Venerable Isaiah wrote: “Humility is to think of oneself as a sinner and that one does nothing good before God.” He instructs that we should not be vainglorious, even when we succeed in doing something good, but attribute that good to God, who works His good deeds through us sinners. We must strive to live so as not to grieve anyone, to help all, to be kind and courteous to everyone, to refrain from returning evil for evil, and, as the Apostle instructs, to “live peaceably with all men” (Rom. 12:18). We must treat each person with care and mercy as an image of God. Though we may not attain the highest sanctity, through humility alone we can reach the Kingdom of Heaven. Therefore, let us acquire humility, which will guide us along the salvific path paved by the feat of humility of the God-bearers Joachim and Anna and the Most Holy God-bearer herself. Brothers and sisters! Let us honor the memory of the God-bearers Joachim and Anna and offer gifts worthy of their feats and prayers. Saint Andrew of Crete writes of this: “Let us offer a worthy gift to this present celebration. Parents—let them emulate fruitfulness; the barren—barrenness of sin. If any of you is a father, let him imitate the father of the Most Holy Virgin. A mother who nurtures her children, let her rejoice with Anna, raising the child granted to her through prayer. A virgin living purely, let her be a mother of the word, adorning the beauty of her soul with the word. Together, rich and poor, young man and maiden, elders with youths (Ps. 48), let them rejoice today in honor of the young Mother of Christ our God.” In the hymns of today’s feast, triumphant words resound, calling us to spiritual joy: “This is the day of the Lord, rejoice ye people! Today is the proclamation of universal joy! Thy Nativity, O Virgin God-bearer, hath proclaimed joy to the whole universe.” What happiness and joy for the entire human race, which lost Paradise through the fall of our foreparents, that with the Nativity of the Most Pure God-bearer, hope entered the world to draw near to Heaven and regain the lost paradisiacal grace! This day is the beginning of our salvation, when the hope for deliverance from spiritual death was born for every person. The God-bearer appeared as the helper and intercessor of the human race, of all Christians who keep God’s commandments. Therefore, let us, brothers and sisters, keep these commandments that lead us to salvation, and the Lord will abide with us and aid us in this holy work, for it pleased Him to give us a comforting promise: “Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world” (Matt. 28:20). And surely, our first Helper, the Most Pure Virgin Mary, who granted the world unending eternal joy, is always with us. Day and night, she prays to her Divine Son for the granting of the joy of salvation to us in place of sinful sorrow. With this hope, let us always turn to the intercession and protection of the Most Pure Virgin Mary, repeating the words of the church hymn: “O unashamed Intercessor of Christians, unwavering Mediatrix before the Creator, despise not the voices of sinners’ supplications, but hasten as one good to aid us who faithfully cry unto thee: hasten to prayer and speed to intercession, ever protecting, O God-bearer, those who honor thee.” To our God be glory, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages, amen! source  

The Nativity of the Most Holy God-bearer is a fixed Great Feast of the Twelve. Though the Holy Scriptures do not speak of the birth of the Virgin Mary, none would dispute the reality of this event. Nevertheless, the Old Testament is replete with many foreshadowings, proclaiming not only the coming birth of the Savior of the world but also of His Mother. These include the ladder seen by Jacob in a dream, the bush from which the Lord spoke to Moses, the blossoming rod of Aaron, the gate from Ezekiel’s prophecy, and others. The parents of the Virgin Mary, the holy and righteous Joachim and Anna, were of royal and high-priestly lineage. Though of noble descent, their family had fallen into poverty, yet they led a righteous life, overshadowed by one sorrow: they had no children. In Old Testament Israel, childlessness was considered a grave misfortune. Every Israelite sought to leave offspring in Israel, hoping that, if not they themselves, their children might serve the coming of the awaited Messiah. If a person had no children, it was commonly believed to signify grave sins, for which the Lord punished them with barrenness. Holy Tradition recounts how, on one occasion, the righteous Joachim, bringing an offering to the temple during the Feast of Dedication, was publicly insulted by the high priest Issachar, who refused to accept his offering due to his supposed sinfulness, inferred from his lack of children. Joachim was pushed aside, deemed unworthy to offer a sacrifice to God before those who had heirs in Israel. Joachim departed to the wilderness, where he remained in fasting and prayer for forty days. The righteous Anna, at home and hearing of what had befallen her husband, suffered greatly, blaming herself for their inability to bear a child. Seeking some solace, she went into the garden, but upon seeing a nest with fledglings in a laurel tree, she fell into even greater distress. “Even a bird can embrace its young, but I cannot,” she exclaimed, vowing to dedicate her child to God if He would hear her prayer and grant her a child. Suddenly, the Archangel Gabriel appeared to her, announcing that the Lord had heard her plea and would grant her a daughter. The Archangel also appeared to Joachim in the wilderness with the same tidings. Rejoicing, Joachim and Anna hastened to the temple, where, without prior arrangement, they met at the Golden Gate. Soon after, Anna conceived and gave birth to a girl, whom the parents named Mary, who would later become the Mother of our Lord Jesus Christ. The Nativity of the Most Holy God-bearer marks the beginning of the New Testament feasts. It is the first feast both in the church year and in the entire Gospel narrative. The event of the Virgin Mary’s birth is extolled in the sermons of Saints John Chrysostom, Epiphanius of Cyprus, Blessed Augustine, and Jerome. However, a distinct feast of the Nativity of the God-bearer did not emerge until at least the first half of the fifth century. The most ancient part of the liturgical texts still in use today is the troparion of the feast, composed in the fifth to seventh centuries, modeled on the troparion of the Nativity of Christ. We know that Saint Romanos the Melodist wrote a kontakion for this feast, but sadly, it has not survived. The remaining liturgical texts for the Nativity of the Most Holy God-bearer were composed in the eighth and ninth centuries. Their authors include many holy men, such as Saint John of Damascus, who wrote the first canon of the feast, and Saint Andrew of Crete, who composed the second canon. Other authors include Herman, Patriarch of Constantinople, Anatolius, Bishop of Thessalonica, Stephen and Sergius of the Holy Mountain, and Joseph the Hymnographer. The Virgin Mary is glorified not only as the Mother of Jesus Christ, who was deemed worthy to give birth to the Savior of the world, but also as the Intercessor and Advocate for the entire human race. The chief characteristic of the iconography of the Nativity of the Most Holy God-bearer is its depiction of the viewer’s intimate participation in a joyful family event that nonetheless carries universal significance. At the center, we see the righteous Anna, reclining or seated on a couch, having just given birth to her Daughter. The Newborn is held by a midwife and a servant, who bathe Her in a font, symbolizing the future cleansing and purification of the entire human race. Young women bearing gifts greet the newly delivered mother. On one hand, this reflects an ancient tradition in which noble court women congratulated Byzantine empresses on the birth of a child. On the other hand, the gifts themselves symbolize the God-bearer, as richly celebrated in Byzantine hymnography. These are not mere cups and pitchers but represent the vessel of virginity that contained God, Whom the whole world cannot contain, “the jar bearing the manna, delighting the senses of all the pious.” At the same time, the maidens bearing gifts are perceived as those who have come to the Source of Life, ready to draw living water with their vessels, opening the path to the Kingdom of Heaven. In ancient icons, the figure of Saint Joachim, the father of the Virgin Mary, is depicted either in a window of a small tower or in a doorway, but not beside Saint Anna, as men could not be present with their wives during childbirth. From around the late thirteenth century, icons of the Nativity of the Most Holy God-bearer began to include a separate scene known as the “Caressing of Mary.” In this scene, the righteous Joachim and Anna hold their newborn Daughter, gazing at Her as if unable to look away. This scene recalls the vow made by the parents to dedicate their Daughter to God, knowing they would soon have to part with Her. In church frescoes, scenes depicting the birth of the Virgin Mary are typically placed in the northern part of the altar, near the prothesis table, where the proskomedia, or preparation for the liturgy, is performed. Just as the life of the righteous Joachim and Anna and the birth of their long-awaited Daughter were a preparation for the Gospel events, so too the prosphora, from which the Lamb is taken for consecration during the Divine Liturgy, symbolizes the Virgin Mary, who gave birth to the Lamb that takes away the sins of the world. source

The Nativity of Our Most Holy Lady, the God-bearer and Ever-Virgin Mary, is the first of the twelve great feasts of the Orthodox Church year. It is first both in the chronology of New Testament events and in the Church calendar, which begins in September and is thus called in liturgical hymns “the beginning of our salvation.” The birth of the Mother of God fulfilled prophecies that Christ, the Savior of the world, would soon come to earth. The Church celebrates the Nativity of the Most Holy God-bearer annually on September 21 (September 8 by the old calendar), a fixed feast with one day of forefeast and four days of afterfeast.

The Nativity of the Most Holy God-bearer: The Event of the Feast

From the Gospel, we learn only the principal events of the God-bearer’s life, but it does not mention the circumstances of Her birth or Her later life. These details are conveyed to us through Church Tradition, including ancient narratives, ecclesiastical-historical writings, and the hymnographic liturgical heritage, that is, the texts of the Church’s services. The parents of the Most Holy God-bearer, Joachim and Anna, are called “God-parents” by the Church. Joachim was a descendant of King David, and Anna came from the lineage of the high priest Aaron. They led a righteous and pious life. Tradition states that they kept only a third of their income for themselves, giving the rest to the needy and the temple. Having reached old age, the couple remained childless. It must be noted that childlessness was considered among the Jewish people a punishment for sins, and thus Joachim and Anna endured unjust accusations of secret sins. Yet they did not despair but hoped in God’s mercy and believed that the Lord could grant them a child even in their old age, as He once did for Abraham and Sarah.

On one of the great Jewish feasts, Joachim went to the Jerusalem Temple to offer a sacrifice to God according to the Law of Moses. But the high priest rejected Joachim’s gifts, accusing him of sins for which God punished him with childlessness. Grieved, Joachim did not return home but went into the wilderness where his flocks were grazing. Anna, learning what had happened in the temple, was also deeply saddened. However, they did not murmur against the Lord but prayed fervently, beseeching His mercy. Their prayer was heard by the Lord. According to Tradition, an angel appeared to Joachim in the wilderness and to Anna in the garden, bringing the joyful tidings that they would have a daughter. Both immediately set out for Jerusalem and met at the Golden Gate. In due time, they had a daughter, whom they named Mary. Joachim and Anna gave thanks to the Lord with joy and vowed to dedicate their child to God’s service. The date of the Nativity of the God-bearer is exactly nine months from the Orthodox feast of the Conception of Saint Anna (December 22).

The Nativity of the Most Holy God-bearer in History

One of the earliest references to the feast of the Nativity of the Most Holy God-bearer is found in the fifth century in the writings of Saint Proclus, Archbishop of Constantinople (439–446). Among the Jacobites and Nestorians, who separated from the Orthodox Church in the fifth century, September 8 is also observed as the feast called “Nativity of the Lady Mary.” By the seventh and eighth centuries, the feast was celebrated with great solemnity in the Greek Church. Its official establishment in the Byzantine Empire is attributed to Emperor Maurice.

The Liturgical Service for the Nativity of the Most Holy God-bearer

The service for the feast includes works by Saint John of Damascus (eighth century)—the first canon; Saint Andrew of Crete (seventh century)—the second canon; Germanus, Patriarch of Constantinople (eighth century)—stichera at the versicles; Anatolius, Bishop of Thessalonica (ninth century)—certain stichera at the litia; and Stephen and Sergius of the Holy City (ninth century)—stichera at “Lord, I have cried” and some at the litia and versicles. The stichera for the Nativity of the God-bearer contain the doctrinal teaching that through the Virgin Mary, the Lord prepared for Himself an earthly Throne and a Royal Chamber; that the Mother of God surpasses all women in Her greatness because from Her was born the Son of God; that by resolving the barrenness of the Mother of God’s parents, the Lord can also resolve our spiritual barrenness, that is, grant us the strength to do good. At the same time, these stichera invite all people, both Old Testament and New Testament (those present in the church), to rejoice and glorify the Mother of God, for through Her, heaven was united with earth, hell was put to shame, the gates of paradise, that is, the Kingdom of Heaven, were reopened to mankind, and we were renewed and “deified,” that is, made partakers of God’s grace.

In the readings appointed for the feast of the Nativity of the God-bearer, the first (Genesis 28:10–17) speaks of Jacob’s vision of the ladder, which prefigured the Mother of God, who united heaven with earth; the second reading (Ezekiel 43:27; 44:1–4) contains Ezekiel’s prophecy, which called the Mother of God the gate through which passed the Holy Ancient of Days and the Holy Steward; the third (Proverbs 9:1–11) speaks of the House prepared by the Hypostatic Wisdom, that is, Jesus Christ (this House, built by Wisdom, is the Mother of God, the Most Holy Virgin Mary, in whom the Lord dwelt).

The thoughts of the canon for the feast are closely aligned with those of the stichera. In the Epistle reading (Philippians 2:5–11), it is said that the Son of God humbled Himself, taking the form of a servant and humbling Himself even unto death on the cross, and for this, He was exalted above every name. In the Gospel reading (Luke 10:38–42; 11:27–28), it is told of Christ’s stay in the house of Martha and Mary. The most ancient hymn of the feast, likely composed between the fifth and seventh centuries, is the troparion:

“Thy nativity, O Virgin God-bearer, hath proclaimed joy to the whole universe: for from thee hath shone forth the Sun of Righteousness, Christ our God, who, having broken the curse, hath given a blessing, and, having abolished death, hath granted us life eternal.”

The kontakion of the feast:

“Joachim and Anna were freed from the reproach of childlessness, and Adam and Eve from the corruption of death by thy holy nativity, O Most Pure One. This is celebrated by thy people, delivered from the burden of sin, who loudly cry unto thee: the barren one beareth the God-bearer and the nourisher of our Life.”

The Feast of the Nativity of the Most Holy God-bearer: Folk Traditions

The feast of the Nativity of the Most Holy God-bearer is also called “Little Most Pure” or “Asposov Day.” According to folk tradition, the time around this day was called Ospozhniki, Spozhinki, or Gospozhinki. The scale of the festive celebrations depended on the harvest of the new year. With a good harvest, Gospozhinki was celebrated for an entire week: the more bountiful the summer, the longer the feast. Village “feasting,” aligned with the Church’s festal cycle, took place from the Dormition of the God-bearer to the Protection of the Most Holy God-bearer. The feast was conducted with all the laws of hospitality: beer was brewed according to the number of guests, a sheep or ram was slaughtered, dishes were prepared from beef, the head and legs of the bull were used for aspic, fish was taken from kulebyaka, and, although the feast day was not a fast day, a pie was baked from homemade wheat flour mixed with purchased fine flour. A day or two before the feast, children invited relatives to the celebration, giving preference to those who would host a feast in return. An exception was made for sons-in-law, especially young ones: neither the father-in-law nor the mother-in-law overlooked inviting them, even if they did not expect a reciprocal invitation. It was very important that good relations existed between sons-in-law and the parents of their wives, as expressed in the proverb: “Not for the son-in-law dog, but for the dear child.”

The matchmakers of the son’s parents were the most honored guests at the table of the daughter’s parents, seated in the front corner under the icons. Village merriment was broader and more varied in places where there were churches dedicated to the Nativity of the God-bearer, and in these villages, fairs were held in connection with the feast.

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“Together with the Word, let us now ascend the lofty mountain of the Transfiguration, casting off the material and dark garments of worldly life and clothing ourselves in those woven from above, shining with the rays of rational virtues,” calls St. Andrew of Crete to the faithful on this great feast day. “And it is pleasing to Christ Himself, Who is the pure Beginning of all and the pre-eternal Word of the Father, Who for our sake descended from heaven and, out of love for mankind, took on our frail flesh, that we should make this ascent with Him, since we are already clothed in white garments through our life and word, and are uplifted by the pure thoughts of the Spirit” (Sermon on the Transfiguration of the Lord). By “white garments,” the saint refers to the grace of baptism, which cleanses the stain of sins, and by “pure thoughts of the Spirit,” he means, first, the holy truths of faith that we read in the Holy Scriptures and hear in church, and second, the gift of heartfelt acceptance of these truths, granted through the Holy Spirit, the true and life-giving Lord, who guides us into all truth. Inviting us to this spiritual ascent, the saint places us, though sinful and weak, alongside the apostles who were deemed worthy of witnessing the divine revelation of Christ on Mount Tabor. The Church echoes this in its festive hymns: “Come, let us ascend to the mountain of the Lord and to the house of our God, and we shall behold the glory of His Transfiguration, the glory as of the Only-Begotten of the Father; let us receive Light with light and, transformed by the Spirit, let us sing praises to the consubstantial Trinity forever” (sticheron at the litia). “Come, O people, having heard, let us ascend to the holy, heavenly mountain, and stand immaterially in the city of the Living God, and mentally behold the immaterial Divinity of the Father and the Spirit, shining forth in the Only-Begotten Son” (Canon, Ode 9). Thus, the feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord is a celebration of spiritual ascent, divine contemplation, and godly vision. Though our bodies are far from Tabor, there are no barriers for our spirit to be there; moreover, the Church calls each of her children to the contemplation once granted only to the three chosen disciples of the Lord. The Gospel recounts that shortly before His Passion (about forty days prior), the Lord Jesus Christ took with Him three of His closest disciples—Peter, James, and John—and ascended a mountain to pray. Church tradition unanimously holds that this was Mount Tabor, located near Jerusalem. “And as He prayed, the appearance of His face changed, and His clothing became white and dazzling,” writes the Evangelist Luke (Luke 9:29), while the Evangelist Matthew adds, “His face shone like the sun, and His clothes became white as light” (Matthew 17:2). Beside the Lord, the apostles saw the prophets Moses and Elijah: “They appeared in glory and spoke of His departure, which He was about to accomplish in Jerusalem” (Luke 9:31). Seeing this, the Apostle Peter, in a state of rapture and “not knowing what he said,” addressed the Lord: “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three tabernacles (that is, three shelters or booths—Ed.): one for Thee, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” (Mark 9:5). Peter felt such extraordinary bliss and joy that he did not wish to return to ordinary earthly life; he desired the contemplation to last forever. “While he was still speaking,” continues the Evangelist Luke, “a cloud came and overshadowed them, and they were afraid as they entered the cloud. And a voice came from the cloud, saying, ‘This is My beloved Son; listen to Him’” (Luke 9:34–35). Immediately after, “looking around, they saw no one with them anymore, except Jesus alone. As they were coming down from the mountain, He ordered them to tell no one what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead” (Mark 9:8–9). This wondrous vision is rightly called the Tabor Theophany by the holy fathers. In it, the apostles were granted, for the strengthening of their faith, to see a “faint dawn” of the divine nature of the Savior, to be convinced that He is the true Son of the eternal Father, equal to Him in power and glory. It is no coincidence that the prophets of the Old Testament appeared with Him, especially those who were zealous for the glory of the One God and were granted unique gifts: Moses received the Law given by God on Sinai, and Elijah, without experiencing the death common to all, was taken to heaven in a fiery chariot. Who better than they could testify before the apostles that Jesus, to whom they now stood in reverent worship, is the very God who spoke to Moses amid thunder and lightning, and who descended from heaven as fire upon the sacrifice offered by Elijah? Thus, the Lord Jesus Christ proclaimed Himself—not only in word but in deed—as existing inseparably and unconfusedly in two natures: divine and human; as the One who is eternal and immortal in His divinity, yet in His humanity came into the world to taste sacrificial death for the salvation of His fellow human beings. “What could be more significant or awe-inspiring than to behold God in human form, His face shining, radiant like the sun and more than the sun, ceaselessly emitting rays, pointing with His most pure finger to His countenance and saying to those present with Him in that place: ‘Thus shall the righteous shine in the resurrection, thus shall they be glorified, transformed into this My likeness, changed into this glory, conformed to this form, this image, these features, this light, this blessedness, becoming conformed and enthroned with Me, the Son of God,’” exclaims the holy ascetic, preacher, and theologian Anastasius of Sinai, indicating that in the Transfiguration, Christ revealed not only His own likeness but also ours—that is, the likeness of all who, at His second coming, will attain resurrection into eternal glory and the life of the age to come. “Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the Kingdom of their Father. Whoever has ears to hear, let him hear!” (Matthew 13:43) — so our Savior Himself proclaimed. Thus, we understand why, on this day, both the sermons of holy theologians and the festal hymns so insistently call us to share in the apostles’ wonder of contemplation. For the dazzling vision of Jesus’ face, shining brighter than the sun, and His radiant garments is a recognition of our own destiny, to which we are called by Christ’s holy Gospel. Christ is the image of saved and deified humanity. Amid the multitude of calamities, injustices, and wrongs committed daily on earth by those who forget their divine calling, let us behold this radiant face and, without doubting, believe that God’s will—“that all people be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Timothy 2:4)—remains and will remain unchanging until the end. The darkness of vice and falsehood, with which the adversary, the devil, seeks to defile the image of God in humanity, is powerless before the victorious radiance of the rays of the coming King of Glory. At Great Vespers, at “Lord, I Have Cried,” Stichera, Tone 4: The mountain, once dark and smoky, is now honorable and holy, for thereon, O Lord, did Thy feet stand. The eternal hidden mystery was at last revealed, Thy dread Transfiguration shown to Peter, John, and James. Unable to bear the radiance of Thy countenance and the brightness of Thy garments, they fell prostrate upon the earth, and, seized with awe, they marveled, beholding Moses and Elijah speaking with Thee of the things that were to befall Thee. And a voice from the Father bore witness, saying: “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye Him!” Who granteth the world great mercy. At the Litia, Stichera, Tone 2: Thou who with Thy light dost sanctify the whole universe, wast transfigured on the lofty mountain, O Good One, revealing to Thy disciples the glory of Thine own, that Thou dost deliver the world from transgression. Wherefore we cry unto Thee: O merciful Lord, save our souls. Thou who wast transfigured in glory on Mount Tabor, O Christ our God, and didst show to Thy disciples the glory of Thy divinity, illumine us also with the light of Thy knowledge, and guide us in the path of Thy commandments, for Thou alone art good and lovest mankind. source  

The name of this feast can be confusing for modern people, who might think it refers to the origin of the wooden pieces of the Cross on which Jesus Christ was crucified. Church interpreters of Scripture and theologians have long viewed a passage from the Book of Isaiah as a prophecy about the Lord’s Cross: “The glory of Lebanon shall come to you, cypress, pine, and cedar together, to adorn the place of my sanctuary, and I will glorify the place where my feet rest.” Based on this, a tradition arose among Christians that the Cross was made from three types of wood: cypress, pine, and cedar. This belief is reflected in church hymns, such as: “Upon cypress, pine, and cedar were you lifted up, O Lamb of God, to save those who worship your voluntary crucifixion.” There are also interpretations, found in various manuscript collections, that connect the wood of the Cross to Old Testament figures like Abraham, Lot, or King Solomon and the temple he built. These stories cannot be proven or disproven. The wood of the Cross, found during the time of Empress Elena—almost three centuries after Christ’s crucifixion—on Golgotha, alongside the crosses of the thieves crucified with Him, had no distinguishing features. It was identified only through a miracle: touching the Lord’s Cross brought a deceased girl back to life. Thus, the importance lies not in the material of the Cross, nor in who handled it or how it was used before, but in the fact that Christ sanctified it with His blood, shed for the world’s salvation. The feast of the Origin of the Precious Cross has a specific meaning. Here, “origin” refers to a solemn procession with crosses and holy icons, which began in Constantinople on August 1 during the time of Patriarch Photius. In August, seasonal fevers (malaria) killed thousands in southern regions each year, so a custom was established to hold intense prayers before the Precious Cross in the city streets to protect Christians from this disease. On the eve of the feast (July 31), the Precious Cross was taken from the imperial treasury and placed on the holy altar of Hagia Sophia, the Church of Divine Wisdom. From August 1 until the feast of the Dormition of the Most Holy God-bearer, the Cross was carried through streets and squares in processions. Wells and springs were blessed, and clergy sprinkled homes and public buildings with holy water. In Russian liturgical books, this day also includes a solemn service to the All-Merciful Savior, which is why the feast is popularly called the “First Savior” (the second and third being the feasts of the Transfiguration of the Lord and the Transfer of the Holy Mandylion, respectively). According to the Prologue, this feast was established because, in 1164, Grand Prince Andrey Bogolyubsky marched from Vladimir against the Volga Bulgars, a Muslim people living along the middle Volga, while Byzantine Emperor Manuel campaigned against the Saracens (Seljuk Turks). The Prologue states that before the battles, both Christian armies witnessed the same sign, which their leaders saw as a message of God’s favor and coming victory. From the icons of Jesus Christ and the Most Pure God-bearer, carried before the armies, rays of divine light shone, illuminating the Christian ranks. Inspired by these sacred signs, both armies defeated their enemies, and this display of God’s power was established as a church feast. There is another reason to celebrate this day. Chronicles record that on August 1, 988, Prince Vladimir and his retinue were baptized in the city of Korsun (Chersonese). While military victories are fleeting, and defeats often follow triumphs (as with Rus, which, seventy years after Andrey’s victories, suffered a devastating Tatar invasion and two centuries of their rule), the baptism of Rus is a victory with eternal fruits, found in Christ’s eternal Kingdom, opened to generations of Russian Christians. This may be the primary reason to offer grateful prayers on the feast of the All-Merciful Savior. Reflecting on this event—a great victory of Christ on earth—Metropolitan Hilarion of Kiev, one of the early figures of the Russian Church, addressed Prince Vladimir in his famous Sermon on Law and Grace with heartfelt praise: “What name shall we give you, lover of Christ? Champion of truth, vessel of wisdom, haven of mercy! How did you come to believe? How were you set ablaze with love for Christ? How did a mind greater than earthly scholars enter you, so that you loved the Invisible and reached for the heavenly? How did you seek Christ, how did you surrender to Him? […] Where did you catch the scent of the Holy Spirit? Where did you drink from the sweet cup of the life to come? Where did you taste and see that the Lord is good? You didn’t see Christ, you didn’t follow Him—how then did you become His disciple? Others saw Him and still didn’t believe. But you, without seeing, believed. Truly, the blessing of the Lord Jesus, spoken to Thomas, was fulfilled in you: ‘Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.’ […] The Savior Himself called you blessed, for you believed in Him and were not offended by Him, as He truly said: ‘…and blessed is the one who is not offended by me.’ Those who knew the Law and the prophets crucified Him. But you, who honored neither Law nor prophets, worshipped the Crucified. […] How did the fear of God enter you, how were you filled with love for Him? You saw no apostle come to your land to humble your heart. You saw no demons cast out in the name of Jesus Christ, no sick healed, no mute speaking, no fire turned to cold, no dead rising—seeing none of these, how did you believe? What a marvel! Other kings and rulers, seeing these things done by holy men, did not believe but instead subjected them to torment and suffering. But you, blessed one, without witnessing any of this, ran to Christ, understanding through clear reasoning alone that there is One God, Creator of the invisible and visible, of heaven and earth, and that He sent His beloved Son into the world for its salvation. […] What seems foolishness to others became for you the power of God.” With joyful wonder, speaking of the prince’s conversion as a great miracle, Saint Hilarion marvels at the mystery of gaining faith, which is always a miracle and a gift of grace—for the great and the small, the worthy and the unworthy. The seed of God’s word, as the parable says, grows differently on stones, among thorns, and in fertile soil, producing different fruits, but the seed itself is always divine, even when human hearts reject it or accept it superficially. Let us be good soil for the Divine Sower, and whether we inherited the Christian faith from our ancestors long ago or found it recently, let us see in its truths and commandments an ongoing miracle of boundless, saving mercy. Tropar, Tone 8: Beholding from on high, receiving the lowly, look down, O Saviour, and visit us who are afflicted with sins, O Master All-Merciful, through the intercessions of the God-bearer, grant unto our souls great mercy. Kondak, Tone 4: Of all defilement, O All-Merciful Saviour, I have been a worker, and into the pit of despair have I fallen. Yet from my heart I groan, and unto Thee, O Word, I cry: Hasten, O Bountiful One, and make speed to our aid, for Thou art merciful. Ikos: Having Thee, O All-Merciful Saviour, as a mighty stronghold, and Thy Most Pure Mother as a wall unshaken, we fear not ever the assaults of foes. For by Thy wisdom invisible we are kept and covered, vanquishing enemies both seen and unseen. Having Thy Most Pure Mother as our succour, we escape the wiles of foes as from a snare. With joy we sing, O Most Joyous One: Hasten, O Bountiful One, and make speed to our aid, for Thou art merciful. source

HOW VLADIMIR WAS BAPTIZED, AND BAPTIZED HIS CHILDREN, AND THE WHOLE RUSSIAN LAND FROM END TO END, AND HOW BEFORE VLADIMIR, VLADIMIR’S GRANDMOTHER OLGA WAS BAPTIZED. WRITTEN BY JACOB THE MONK Father, bless! Paul, the holy apostle, teacher of the Church and light of the whole world, sending a letter to Timothy, said: “My child Timothy, what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses, entrust to faithful people who will be able to teach others also.” And the blessed apostle Luke the Evangelist wrote to Theophilus, saying: “Since many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things that have been accomplished among us, it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught.” For that same Theophilus, the holy apostle Luke wrote the Acts of the Apostles and the Gospel, and afterward, the lives and martyrdoms of many saints began to be described. So too I, the unworthy monk Jacob, having heard from many about the pious prince of all the Russian land, Vladimir, son of Svyatoslav, and having gathered a little from much, have written about his virtues, as well as about his two sons, the holy glorious martyrs Boris and Gleb. And I have written how the grace of God enlightened the heart of the Russian prince Vladimir, son of Svyatoslav, grandson of Igor, and how the merciful God, “who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth,” loved him—and the prince thirsted for holy baptism. “As a deer pants for flowing streams,” so the pious prince Vladimir thirsted for holy baptism, and God fulfilled his desire. For it is written: “He will fulfill the desire of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them.” And the Lord himself said: “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened.” And again he said: “Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned.” He sought salvation and learned about his grandmother Olga, how she went to Constantinople and received holy baptism, and lived in a godly manner, adorned with all good works, and reposed in peace in Jesus Christ and in the good faith. Having heard all this about his grandmother Olga, who was named Helen in holy baptism, Prince Vladimir began to imitate her in life, just as he followed the holy Empress Helen, mother of the great Emperor Constantine, in all things. And his heart was kindled by the Holy Spirit, desiring holy baptism. Seeing the desire of his heart, God, knowing his goodness, descended from heaven upon Prince Vladimir with his mercy and bounties. And God the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, glorified in Trinity, the righteous God who “searches mind and heart,” foreseeing all things, enlightened the heart of Prince Vladimir of the Russian land, that he might receive holy baptism. Prince Vladimir himself was baptized, and enlightened his children and his whole household with holy baptism, and freed every soul, both male and female, with holy baptism. And he rejoiced like David, and Prince Vladimir was glad in God, and “he rejoiced and exulted in the Lord,” like the wondrous holy prophet Avvakum, in God his Savior. O blessed time and good day, filled with every good thing, in which Prince Vladimir was baptized and named Basil in holy baptism! And the gift of God overshadowed him, and the grace of the Holy Spirit illumined his heart, and he learned to walk according to God’s commandment, and to live virtuously in a godly manner, and he kept the faith firmly and unshakably. He baptized the whole Russian land from end to end—and rejected the impious delusion, and the pagan gods, or rather demons, Perun and Khors, and trampled down many others, and crushed the idols. And he built a stone church in the name of the most holy Mother of God, a refuge and salvation for faithful souls, and gave it a tithe, to care for the priests, and orphans, and widows, and the poor. And afterward, he adorned the whole Russian land and all the cities with holy churches. And he rejected all the devil’s deceit, and came from the devil’s darkness to the light with his children, came to God, having received baptism, and snatched the whole Russian land from the jaws of the devil and brought it to God and to the true light. For the Lord said through the prophet: “He who turns a sinner from the error of his way will save his soul from death.” And Prince Vladimir was like the mouth of God and led people from the devil’s deception to God. O, how much joy and gladness there was on earth! The angels rejoiced and the archangels, and the souls of the saints leaped up. The Lord himself said: “There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents.” Countless souls were brought to God by holy baptism throughout the Russian land; the deed was accomplished, worthy of all praise and full of spiritual joy. O blessed and thrice-blessed Prince Vladimir, pious, Christ-loving, and hospitable, great is your reward from God! As the blessed David said: “Blessed is the one whom you discipline, O Lord, and whom you teach out of your law, to give him rest from days of adversity.” Blessed Prince Vladimir, having renounced service to the devil, came to Christ God, his Lord, and brought his people, and taught them to serve God. For the Lord himself said: “Whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.” And you, blessed Prince Vladimir, were an apostle among princes, having brought the whole Russian land to God by holy baptism, you taught your people to worship God and to glorify and sing praises to the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. And all the people of the Russian land came to know God through you, divine Prince Vladimir. The angelic hosts rejoiced, the glorious lambs; now the faithful rejoice, and they have sung and praised! As the Hebrew children met Christ with branches, crying: “Hosanna to Christ God, the conqueror of death!”, so the newly chosen people of the Russian land praised the Lord Christ with the Father and the Holy Spirit. And having drawn near to God by holy baptism, and having rejected the devil, and scorned his service, and spat upon the demons, they came to know the true God, the creator and maker of all things. And they sing every day and hour of their life a wondrous song, the archangelic praise: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will among men!” And you, blessed Prince Vladimir, like Constantine the Great, accomplished the work, as he was moved by great faith and love for God. Constantine established the whole universe with love and faith, and enlightened the whole world with holy baptism, and commanded God’s law throughout the universe. And he destroyed the idolatrous temples with their falsely exalted gods, and set up holy churches throughout the universe to the glory of God, glorified in Trinity, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and found the cross, the salvation of the whole world. With his blessed and divinely wise mother, the holy Helen, and with many children, he brought countless multitudes of people to God by holy baptism. And he destroyed the devil’s altars, and demolished the idolatrous temples, and adorned churches and cities, and the whole universe, and commanded that the memory of the saints be celebrated in churches with singing and prayers, and festivals observed to the glory and praise of God. The same did blessed Prince Vladimir and his grandmother Olga accomplish. Blessed Prince Vladimir, grandson of Olga, having been baptized himself, baptized his children and the whole Russian land from end to end. He dug up and cut down the idolatrous temples and altars everywhere, and crushed the idols, adorned the cities and the whole Russian land with churches, and celebrated the memory of the saints in churches with singing and prayers, and brightly observed the Lord’s festivals. He set three tables: the first for the metropolitan with bishops and monks, and priests; the second for the poor and the needy; the third for himself, and his boyars, and all his men. Blessed Prince Vladimir imitated the holy kings, the prophet David, King Hezekiah, and the thrice-blessed Josiah, and the great Constantine, who chose and preferred God’s law above all, and served God with all their heart, and received God’s mercy, and inherited paradise, and received the kingdom of heaven, and reposed with all the saints who pleased God. Like them was blessed Prince Vladimir, who served God with all his heart and soul. Let us not marvel, beloved, that he does not perform miracles after death, for many holy righteous ones did not perform miracles, yet they are holy. As it is said somewhere by the holy John Chrysostom: “How do we know and understand a holy man, by miracles or by works?” And he said: “By works we know, not by miracles, for even magicians performed many miracles by demonic delusion.” And there were holy apostles and false apostles, and holy prophets and false prophets, servants of the devil, and moreover—a wonder—Satan himself disguises himself as an angel of light. By works we know a saint, as the apostle said: “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.” Blessed Prince Vladimir, having loved God with all his heart and soul, knew and kept his commandments. And all countries feared him and brought him gifts. And he rejoiced and was glad in God and in holy baptism, and gave thanks and glorified God for all that, Prince Vladimir. And thus in joy with humility in his heart he said: “Lord, good Master, you have remembered me and brought me to the light, and I have known you, the creator of all things. Glory to you, God of all, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! Glory to you with the Son and the Holy Spirit, for you have had mercy on me. I was in darkness, serving the devil and demons, but you have enlightened me with holy baptism. I was like a beast, doing much evil in paganism and living like an animal, but you have tamed me with your grace and taught me. Glory to you, God, glorified in Trinity, Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit! Holy Trinity, have mercy on me, guide me on the true path and teach me to do your will, for you are my God!” Prince Vladimir followed the works of holy men and their lives, and was ravished by the life of Abraham and imitated his hospitality, loved Jacob’s truth, Moses’ meekness, David’s innocence, but above all imitated Constantine, the great emperor, the first Christian emperor, in orthodoxy, and performed alms, Prince Vladimir. If the weak and old could not reach the prince’s court to take what they needed, then blessed Prince Vladimir sent to their homes and gave them all that was necessary. I cannot describe his many mercies—he showed mercy not only in his house, but throughout the city, not only in Kiev alone, but throughout the whole Russian land. And in cities and villages, everywhere he showed mercy, clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, giving rest to travelers; honoring churchmen, and loving and having mercy on them, giving them what was needed, the poor and orphans, and widows, and the blind, and the lame, and the afflicted, he had mercy on all, and clothed, and fed, and gave drink. When Prince Vladimir performed good works, God’s grace illumined his heart and the hand of the Lord helped him, and he conquered all his enemies, and all feared him. Whomever he went against, he overcame: he defeated the Radimichs and imposed tribute on them, defeated the Vyatichs and imposed tribute on them, took the Yatvingians, and defeated the Silver Bulgars; and going against the Khazars, he defeated them and imposed tribute on them. Having planned a campaign against the Greek city of Cherson, Prince Vladimir prayed thus to God: “Lord God, Master of all, I ask one thing of you: give me the city, that I may take it and bring Christian people and priests to the whole land, and let them teach the people the Christian law.” And God heard his prayer, and he took the city of Cherson, and church vessels, and icons, and the relics of the holy martyr Clement and other saints. And in those days there were two emperors in Constantinople: Constantine and Basil. And Vladimir sent to them, asking for their sister as his wife—that he might be further strengthened in the Christian law. And they gave him their sister, and sent him many gifts, and gave him relics of saints. And thus piously lived the pious Prince Vladimir, and ended his life in the orthodox faith in Christ Jesus our Lord, as did the pious Olga. She before him, going to Constantinople, received holy baptism, and having done much good in this life before God, ended her life in the true faith, and reposed in peace, committing her soul into God’s hands. And when there was war with the Pechenegs, Prince Vladimir was still alive, but ill, and from that illness he committed his soul into God’s hands. Prayer of the holy Prince Vladimir. Prince Vladimir, departing from this world, prayed thus, saying: “Lord my God, I did not know you, but you had mercy on me and enlightened me with holy baptism—and I have known you, God of all, holy creator of all things, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, glory to you with the Son and the Holy Spirit! Master God, do not remember my evil; I did not know you in paganism, but now I know you and acknowledge you. Lord my God, have mercy on me. If you wish to punish and torment me for my sins, punish me yourself, Lord, do not deliver me to demons!” And thus praying to God, he committed his soul in peace to the angels of the Lord and died. “The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God,” “and their reward is from the Lord, and their care is with the Most High; they will receive a glorious crown from the Lord’s hand.” After holy baptism, blessed Prince Vladimir lived twenty-eight years. In the year after baptism, he went to the rapids; in the third year he took the city of Cherson; in the fourth year he laid the foundation of the stone church of the holy Mother of God; in the fifth year he founded Pereslavl; in the ninth year the blessed Christ-loving Prince Vladimir gave a tithe to the church of the holy Mother of God from his possessions. About this the Lord himself said: “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” And blessed Prince Vladimir hid his treasure in heaven by mercy and good works; there his heart was in the kingdom of heaven. And God helped him, and he sat in Kiev in the place of his father Svyatoslav and his grandfather Igor. And Prince Svyatoslav was killed by the Pechenegs, and Yaropolk sat in Kiev in the place of his father Svyatoslav. And when Oleg was going with warriors near the city of Ovruch, the bridge broke with the warriors, and they crushed Oleg in the ditch; and Yaropolk was killed in Kiev by Vladimir’s people. And Prince Vladimir sat in Kiev in the eighth year after the death of his father Svyatoslav, on June 11, in the year 6486 (978). Prince Vladimir was baptized in the tenth year after the murder of his brother Yaropolk. Blessed Prince Vladimir repented and lamented all that he had done in paganism, not knowing God. But having known the true God, creator of heaven and earth, repenting of all and rejecting demons and the devil and service to him, he served God with his good works and mercy. He reposed in peace on July 15, in the year 6523 (1015) in Christ Jesus our Lord. https://starove.ru/izbran/pamyat-i-pohvala-knyazyu-russkomu-vladimiru/  

Venerable Father Afanasiy of Athos (Vigil). Holy Martyrs Anna and Kiryla. Finding of the Honorable Relics of the Venerable and God-bearing Father Sergiy, Wonderworker of Radonezh (Vigil). The relics of Venerable Sergiy (commemorated on September 25) were found 30 years after his repose, on July 5, 1422, during the time of Venerable Nikon, Abbot of Radonezh.

Life of Venerable Afanasiy of Athos

Venerable Afanasiy of Athos, baptized Avraamiy, was born in the city of Trapezund. Orphaned early, he was raised by a kind and pious nun, emulating her in the practices of monastic life, fasting, and prayer. He excelled in his studies, quickly surpassing his peers. After his foster mother’s death, Avraamiy was taken to Constantinople to the court of the Byzantine Emperor Roman the Elder, where he studied under the renowned rhetorician Afanasiy. Avraamiy soon matched his teacher’s mastery and became a mentor to youth. Valuing fasting and vigilance as true life, Avraamiy lived strictly and ascetically, sleeping little on a chair, with barley bread and water as his sustenance. When his teacher Afanasiy grew envious, Avraamiy left his mentorship and withdrew. At that time, Venerable Mikhail Malein, Abbot of Kiminsky Monastery, arrived in Constantinople. Avraamiy shared his life story and his secret desire to become a monk. The divinely inspired elder, seeing Avraamiy as a chosen vessel of the Holy Spirit, loved him and taught him much about salvation. During one of their spiritual conversations, Mikhail was visited by his nephew, Nikiphor Foka, a renowned general and future emperor. Avraamiy’s lofty spirit and profound intellect deeply impressed Nikiphor, inspiring lifelong reverence and love. Burning with zeal for monastic life, Avraamiy left everything and arrived at Kiminsky Monastery, falling at the feet of the venerable abbot to be clothed in the monastic habit. The abbot joyfully fulfilled his request and tonsured him with the name Afanasiy. Through prolonged fasting, vigils, prostrations, and day-and-night labors, Afanasiy soon attained such perfection that the holy abbot blessed him for the ascetic feat of silence in a secluded place near the monastery. Later, leaving Kiminsky, Afanasiy wandered through many desolate and solitary places until, guided by God, he came to a place called Melana, at the far edge of Athos, distant from other monastic dwellings. There, he built a cell and labored in prayer and asceticism, advancing from one spiritual feat to another toward the highest monastic perfection. The enemy sought to stir hatred in Afanasiy for his chosen place, assailing him with relentless thoughts. The ascetic resolved to endure for a year, then act as God willed. On the final day, as Afanasiy stood in prayer, a Heavenly Light suddenly shone upon him, filling him with inexpressible joy. His troubling thoughts vanished, and tears of grace flowed from his eyes. From that moment, Afanasiy received the gift of compunction and came to love his place of solitude as fervently as he had once despised it. At that time, Nikiphor Foka, weary of military exploits, recalled his vow to become a monk and asked Afanasiy to use his resources to build a monastery—cells for silence and a church where the brethren could partake of the Divine Mysteries of Christ on Sundays. Initially, Afanasiy resisted accepting the “hated gold” to avoid worldly cares, but seeing Nikiphor’s fervent desire and discerning God’s will, he began constructing the monastery. He built a great church in honor of the Holy Prophet and Forerunner of Christ, Ioann, and another at the mountain’s base dedicated to the Most Holy Mother of God. Cells arose around the church, forming a wondrous monastery on the Holy Mountain. A refectory, hospital, guesthouse, and other necessary buildings were also constructed. Monks flocked to the monastery from Greece and beyond—common folk and nobles, hermits seasoned by years in the desert, abbots of many monasteries, and even bishops who wished to be simple monks in Afanasiy’s Athonite Lavra. The holy abbot established a cenobitic rule modeled after ancient Palestinian monasteries. Services were conducted with strict reverence; no one dared speak during worship, arrive late, or leave without necessity. The Most Pure Mother of God, the Heavenly Queen of Athos, favored the saint. He was granted to see Her with his bodily eyes many times. By God’s allowance, a famine struck the monastery, causing monks to leave one by one. Afanasiy, left alone, briefly considered departing. Suddenly, he saw a Woman under a radiant veil approaching him. “Who are you, and where are you going?” She asked gently. Afanasiy stopped with involuntary reverence. “I am a monk here,” he replied, sharing his story and concerns. “Will you abandon the monastery destined to be glorified for generations over a piece of daily bread? Where is your faith? Return, and I will help you,” She said. “Who are you?” Afanasiy asked. “I am the Mother of your Lord,” She answered, instructing him to strike a rock with his staff. A spring burst forth, which remains to this day as a reminder of Her wondrous visitation. The brotherhood grew, and construction continued in the Lavra. Foreseeing his departure to the Lord, Afanasiy prophesied his imminent death, urging the brethren not to be troubled by what would happen, saying, “For men judge one way, but the All-Wise ordains another.” The brethren, puzzled, pondered his words. After giving his final instructions and comforting all, Afanasiy entered his cell, donned his mantle and sacred cowl (worn only on great feasts), and prayed at length. Vigorous and joyful, the holy abbot ascended the church’s roof with six brethren to inspect the construction. Suddenly, by God’s mysterious providence, the roof collapsed. Five brethren immediately gave their souls to God. Afanasiy and the architect Daniil, buried under stones, remained alive. All heard Afanasiy cry out, “Glory to Thee, O God! Lord Jesus Christ, help me!” The brethren, weeping bitterly, dug through the rubble but found their father already reposed.

(To the Monk Olympius)

This composition, though in form bearing the appearance of a letter according to its heading, exceeds the limits of a letter by its length and takes the shape of a long written narrative. Yet the subject about which you commanded me to write justifies this—being far broader than the scope allowed by a typical letter. Surely, you have not forgotten the time of our meeting, when I, fulfilling a vow, was intending to journey to Jerusalem to behold in visible form the memorials of our Lord’s life in the flesh, and came upon you near the city of Antiochus, and all the conversations we then had together. For our meeting could not have passed in silence, when your thoughtful nature offered so many topics for discussion.

As often happens at such meetings, the course of conversation led us to the recollection of a certain renowned life. The occasion for our narration was a woman—if indeed one may still call her by that name. For I know not whether it is fitting to designate by a name derived from nature one who had risen above nature. And the truth of our account is not based on hearsay or second-hand stories, but what was known through experience was carefully conveyed by our words, without relying for proof upon what had been reported by others. For the one remembered here was not a stranger to our family, such that we would need outside sources to learn of her wondrous deeds: she was born of the same parents as we, a sort of firstfruits of their offspring, being the first to grow forth from our mother’s womb. And since you have judged that accounts of the lives of the devout bring some benefit, it seemed good to me to obey your request, so that such a life might not be left unknown to future generations, nor such greatness of philosophical virtue pass without profit, hidden in silence. I therefore believe I acted rightly in obeying your request and setting forth, as best I could, in simple and unadorned words, an account of her life.

The maiden’s name was Macrina. Her parents gave her this name because there had been in our family, long ago, another Macrina—a woman of renown, our father’s mother—who had suffered for confessing Christ during the time of persecution. This, then, was her public name, by which she was known to those around her. But there was also a secret name given to her, revealed through a vision before she was brought forth into the world in the pangs of childbirth. For her mother too was virtuous, and in all things governed her life by the will of God, especially cherishing a pure and blameless mode of living. She did not enter marriage by her own desire, but having lost both parents while still in the flower of her bodily beauty—such beauty that the fame of it moved many to seek her hand—she was in danger of suffering some unwanted fate by force, for those drawn by her beauty were ready even for abduction. Therefore, she chose for herself a husband of upright character, well spoken of by all, so as to have in him a guardian of her life. And shortly afterward—at her very first childbirth—she became the mother of this daughter.

But when the time came for her to be delivered of the child, she fell into a deep sleep and saw in a dream that she held the babe—still yet in the womb—in her arms, and a figure appeared to her, in form and aspect more glorious than any man. He named the one carried in her arms Thekla—after that Thekla so renowned among virgins. Having said this and confirmed it thrice, he disappeared from view, and made the labor of childbirth easy, so that she awoke from sleep and immediately saw the very thing that had appeared to her in the dream. Thus this was the maiden’s hidden name.

But it seems to me that the one who appeared in the dream spoke not merely to indicate the name by which the child should be called, but rather to foretell the course of her life, showing by the likeness of the name the likeness of character. And so the child was raised; and although she had a nurse, she was for the most part brought up in her mother’s own arms. When she passed the stage of infancy, she showed great aptitude in learning the rudiments of childhood education, and in all that her parents deemed fitting for her to study, the young girl displayed brilliant progress. But her mother took care to instruct her not in the worldly and commonly accepted studies with which most children are usually filled—by reading poems and verse—but considered it shameful and completely improper that a tender and easily molded nature should be made to learn either the tragic passions derived from women, which have provided poets with themes, or the shameless scenes of comedy, thereby in some way defiling herself with indecent tales about women. Instead, what was judged more accessible to the early years from the divinely inspired Scriptures became the substance of her learning—especially the wise sayings of Solomon, and most of all those that pertain to moral life. Nor was she unfamiliar with the Psalms; at fixed hours she would go through a set portion of the psalmody. Whether she rose from bed, took up her work, set it aside, began a meal or finished it, lay down to sleep or stood for prayer—she always had a psalm on her lips, as though it were a good and constant companion that never left her side.

Thus growing in these and similar occupations, and diligently training her hands for labor, she reached the age of twelve, when the flower of youth begins especially to bloom. And what is worthy of marvel here is that, although the beauty of the girl was kept hidden, it could not remain concealed. In her whole homeland, there seemed to be nothing so wonderful as to compare with her beauty and graceful bearing, so that even the hands of painters could not capture it. Indeed, the art whose imitative power dares to depict even the grandest things—even the elements themselves— could not render the exquisite beauty of her appearance. Thus, many suitors came to her parents, desiring to enter into marriage with her. Her father, being wise and experienced in discerning good qualities, dismissed the others and selected one—a youth of noble family, known for his virtue and recently graduated from his studies—and resolved to betroth his daughter to him when she came of full age. Meanwhile, as this young man grew in virtue and gave ever greater hope of future excellence, offering, as it were, his good reputation as an engagement gift to the girl’s father by defending the oppressed in court with eloquence, fate suddenly shattered these bright hopes by snatching him from life, cutting short his promising youth.

The girl was not unaware of her father’s intentions. But when death broke off the engagement, she regarded her father’s decision as if it had already taken full effect. She resolved to spend the rest of her life alone and with herself. And this resolve was firmer than her years might suggest. For when her parents often spoke to her of marriage— because many, hearing of her beauty, desired to wed her—she would reply that it was unseemly and unlawful to disregard the marriage once appointed by her father, and to force herself to turn to another, since marriage by nature is a single union, as there is but one birth and one death. She asserted that the man who had been joined to her by her father’s decision was not dead, but alive in God, in hope of the resurrection; that he, in her view, was not truly dead but only gone for a time; and that it would be folly not to remain faithful to an absent bridegroom. With such words she repelled those who tried to persuade her to remarry, and found the surest way to guard this good resolve was never to part—even for a moment—from her mother’s side. So constant was her presence that her mother used to say she had borne her other children for a set time in the womb, but this daughter she still carried at all times, as though within herself.

Yet the daughter’s companionship was neither burdensome nor useless to her mother, for the services she rendered equaled those of many handmaids. There was between them a good and mutual exchange of help, so that each met the needs of the other. The mother served the girl’s soul, and the daughter served her mother’s body, fulfilling all necessary household tasks—so that she often baked bread with her own hands for her mother. Yet she did not devote herself solely to this task, but only after consecrating her hands to the service of the mysteries, regarding such manual labor as befitting her way of life, and from what remained of her labors, she would prepare food for her mother. Nor was this the only burden she shared. She also helped with all the other concerns her mother had to bear—for she still had four sons and five daughters, and besides that, had to pay tribute to three rulers, for her estates were scattered across three provinces.

Thus, when her mother was occupied with many concerns—since their father had already departed this life—Macrina became her companion in all things, sharing in her labors and lightening the weight of her griefs. Under her mother’s guidance, she maintained an undefiled life, continually finding both direction and approval in her mother’s eyes; and at the same time, by the example of her own life, she offered her mother great instruction toward the same goal (I speak here of the pursuit of philosophy), gradually drawing her toward an immaterial and more perfect manner of living. And when her mother had properly arranged the lives of her other daughters in a manner fitting to each, there returned from his long studies the great Basil, brother of the one we have spoken of, who had long pursued learning. Finding him filled with lofty thoughts about rhetoric, scorning every other excellence, and proud of his reputation beyond even the most honored nobles, she so quickly drew him too toward the goal of true philosophy, that he set aside worldly vanity and, despising the fame of his education, turned to that life of labor and action, preparing himself for the virtuous life through absolute poverty. But his life and the labors which followed—wherein he, becoming known throughout the world, overshadowed with his glory all others renowned for virtue—would require a long account and much time to recount. So let my narrative return again to its intended subject.

Since she had already severed all ties to vain pursuits, Macrina now persuaded her mother to forsake ordinary life, to leave behind its lavish comforts and the service of slaves to which she had until then been accustomed, and to adopt a way of humility equal to that of many others, uniting her life with that of the virgins, and making all those whom she had formerly kept as servants or slaves her sisters and equals. But here I wish to pause for a moment in the narrative, so as not to leave untold a certain event through which the noble character of the maiden is especially revealed.

Of the four brothers, the second after the great Basil was named Naucratius. He was gifted with natural talents, bodily beauty, strength, dexterity, and ability surpassing his brothers. Having reached the age of twenty-two, and publicly demonstrating the success of his learning to the admiration of all who heard him, he, by some divine prompting, suddenly abandoned all that he had and, driven by a great inward zeal, withdrew into a solitary and poverty-stricken life, taking with him nothing but himself. One of the household servants, named Chrysaphios, followed him, being deeply attached to him and sharing his intent in life. So, seeking some wilderness, he came to the river Iris (this river flows through the middle of Pontus, having its source in Armenia, and passes through our land on its way to the Euxine Sea). Near this river, he found a place overgrown with forest and a hill overshadowed by a towering rocky mountain. There the youth settled, fleeing the noise of the city, the affairs of war, and the rhetorical contests of the courts. Thus freed from all the worldly distractions that agitate human life, he served some aged men who lived there with him in poverty and illness, considering such service and care fitting to the life he had chosen. For this purpose, this noble man went out to fish; and since he was very skilled in all forms of hunting, by this means he provided food for the needy and at the same time subdued the fervor of his youth through such labors. He also fulfilled his mother’s wishes whenever she gave him any command. In this way, he perfected his life both by labor—disciplining youthful passion—and by obedience to his mother, thereby fulfilling the commandments of God and striving straight toward Him.

He had spent five years in this pursuit of philosophy, providing consolation to his mother both through his chastity and by submitting his will to hers. Suddenly, however, a grievous and lamentable misfortune—brought about, I think, by the envy of the adversary—struck his mother and brought sorrow and mourning to the whole household. The youth was unexpectedly taken from this life at a time when neither illness gave cause for foreboding, nor did any of the usual or known causes of death apply. He had gone on one of his regular expeditions to procure food for the elderly hermits, and he was brought back dead—along with his companion Chrysaphios.

His mother was far away when the tragedy occurred, at a distance of three days’ journey. Someone went to inform her of the calamity. And although she was in every way perfect in virtue, nature, by its right, prevailed even over her; her spirit collapsed, and she at once became breathless and speechless. Her reason, crushed by grief, left her lying there, struck down by the dreadful news, like a brave warrior felled by an unexpected blow.

It was then that the greatness of Macrina’s soul shone forth. Setting thought against grief, she preserved herself and, becoming the support for her mother’s weakness, raised her again from the depths of sorrow, guiding her soul toward courage with her own steadiness and resolve. At last, the mother ceased to be torn by grief and displayed none of the unworthy frailty of women—no wailing over her misfortune, no rending of garments, no collapse from sorrow, no outpouring of complaints and lamentations. In silence, she bore her grief, resisting the assault of natural feeling with reasoned reflection— both her own thoughts and those suggested by her daughter, offered as healing for the wound. At this time especially was the exalted and noble soul of the maiden revealed. For though nature had its claim on her too—since the one taken by such a death was her brother and the dearest of her brothers—she nonetheless placed herself above nature and lifted her mother up as well, raising her above sorrow by her reasoning and teaching her, by her example, both courage and endurance. Moreover, her life, ever growing in virtue, gave her mother not so much time to grieve over the lost treasure, as reason to rejoice over the one she still had before her eyes.

Thus, when the burden of raising and educating the children had been lifted from the mother, and most of the responsibilities of the material household had passed into the hands of the children, then, as was said, this virgin by her own life inclined her mother toward that immaterial way of life adorned with philosophy. Turning her away from all customary modes of living, she brought her to the level of her own humility, persuading her to stand alongside all the virgins, so that, having erased every distinction of rank from her life, they might share all things in common—table, bed, and everything pertaining to daily life. And such was their rule of life, such the height of their philosophy, and such the strictness of their conduct both day and night, that it exceeds all description. For just as souls, when separated from the body by death, also lay aside all worldly concerns, so also was their life withdrawn and removed from all the tumult of earthly affairs, and modeled after the life of the angels.

Among them there was no trace of anger, envy, hatred, pride, or anything of the sort. The desire for vain things—such as honor, glory, elevation, or superiority over others—was entirely banished from their midst. Their pleasure was in self-restraint, their glory was to be unknown, and their wealth was poverty and renunciation of all material possessions, as though it were dust of the earth. Among all the occupations that engage people in this life, there was none that they regarded as belonging to them. Their sole concern was the things of God: unceasing prayer, continual psalmody, flowing evenly through every day and night, so that this work became both their labor and their rest. What human speech could adequately portray such a life? Their existence touched both human nature and the nature of bodiless beings: for in ridding their nature of human passions, they rose above humanity; but in dwelling in the body, clothed in outward form, and living by means of the senses, they were lower than the angelic and incorporeal nature. Yet one may dare to say that even this distinction made them in no way inferior: for though they lived in the flesh, yet after the likeness of the bodiless powers they were not weighed down by the burden of the body, but their life was heavenly and exalted, soaring aloft together with the celestial hosts. And this life endured not for a short time, but with the passage of time their progress increased, for with every new labor of virtue, philosophy continually elevated the soul to greater purity.

Her chief helper in attaining this great goal was her full brother named Peter, through whom the pains of their mother’s childbearing came to an end. He was the last offspring of the womb and could rightly be called both a son and an orphan, for at the very moment of his birth, their father departed this life. Yet the eldest among the siblings, of whom this account speaks, soon took him from the nurse, after only a short period of nursing, and raised him herself, giving him the highest instruction, training him from infancy in sacred learning, that his soul might never have leisure for vain inclinations. Thus being to the boy everything—a father, a teacher, a guardian, a mother, a counselor in every good deed—she shaped him into such a man that before even reaching the threshold of manhood, while still in the bloom of youth, he had already risen in soul to the lofty pursuit of philosophy. And by a fortunate natural gift, he had an innate capacity for mastering every kind of manual skill, so that without any instruction he attained precise knowledge in the crafts that others learn only through long and difficult practice.

Thus, he scorned the pursuits of worldly learning and, having in his very nature a sufficient guide to every form of good instruction, he continually looked to his sister and took her as the model for every virtue, rising to such heights of moral excellence that in later life he seemed not at all inferior to the great Basil in the perfection of virtue. At that time he served as everything to his sister and mother, being their companion in this angelic life. Once, during a time of severe famine, when many people, having heard of his generosity, came from all around to the secluded place where he lived, he managed through his skillful efforts to provide so much food for the poor that his wilderness came to resemble a city from the multitude of those who flocked there. It was during this time that their mother, having reached advanced old age, passed to God, ending her life in the arms of both her children.

It is fitting to relate the words of blessing she spoke to her children. Remembering with love each of those who were absent, that none might be deprived of her blessing, she especially entrusted those present to God in prayer. For when both of them sat at either side of her bed, she touched each with her hands and uttered these final words to God: “To Thee, O Lord, I dedicate the first-fruit and the tithe of the fruit of my labor in childbirth—my firstborn, this daughter, and this last-born son. According to the law, both are consecrated to Thee, and I offer them to Thee as a gift. Let Thy sanctification come upon this my first-fruit and upon this tithe.” With these meaningful words she indicated her daughter and her son. Having completed the blessing, she also completed her life, leaving instructions to her children that her body should be laid in the tomb of their father. They fulfilled her will and strove toward even greater heights of philosophy, never being content with their current state, but surpassing their past achievements in virtue with yet greater labors.

At that time, the great Basil, renowned among the saints, was appointed head of the great Church of Caesarea. He brought his brother into the sacred clergy, and through his mystical rites, ordained him to the rank of presbyter. Their life thereafter continued to grow in holiness and piety, for to priesthood was joined philosophy. Eight years later, in the ninth year, the great Basil, known throughout the world, departed from men and was gathered to God, becoming an object of universal mourning both to his homeland and to the world at large.

When Macrina heard of this sorrowful news from afar, she grieved deeply at so great a loss. Could she not be touched by a grief that was shared even by the enemies of the truth? But just as gold is purified in various refining furnaces so that if any impurity remains from the first melting, it may be removed in the second, and at last the final process eliminates every trace of dross—so that the surest sign of pure gold is when it passes through all these fires and leaves no impurity—so too something similar occurred in her case: after her reason had been tested by many blows of misfortune, there was revealed on every side the pure and exalted quality of her soul. These trials were: first, the death of one brother; then the loss of her mother; and finally, the departure from this life of Basil the Great, the common adornment of their lineage. Yet through all these, she remained steadfast, like a mighty and unconquered athlete, never falling under the weight of affliction.

After the passing of nine months—or perhaps a little more—following this loss, a council of bishops was convened in the city of Antioch, in which we also took part. But when all dispersed again to their homes, and before the year had yet ended, I, Gregory, felt a strong desire to visit my sister. Much time had passed during which the harsh circumstances I had endured had prevented such a meeting—being driven from my homeland on every side by the leaders of heresy. When I reckoned the span of time during which these trials had obstructed our personal reunion, I found it to be no small space—nearly eight years had passed.

Thus, having completed most of the journey and being already within a day’s travel from the place, a vision appeared to me in sleep which stirred fearful expectations of what was to come. It seemed to me that I was carrying in my arms the relics of martyrs, from which shone a radiance like that of a polished mirror reflecting the full sun, so that my eyes were forced to close from the brilliance of the light. This vision came to me three times in one and the same night. I could not clearly understand what it signified, but sensing sorrow in my soul, I waited for the outcome to interpret the meaning.

When I drew near the place of retreat where my sister lived, leading her angelic and heavenly life, I first asked one of the servants whether her brother was there. When he replied that it had been four days since he had departed, I understood that he must have taken another road to come and meet us. Finally, I asked about the great one herself. When he said that she was suffering from an illness, I was troubled, and hastened the remainder of the way, for grief and dread—harbingers of what was to come—seized me and shook me inwardly.

When I reached the place and the news of my arrival reached the brethren, all the men of the male household came out to meet me; for it is their custom to honor cherished guests with a formal reception. And in the women’s quarters, a group of virgins stood modestly outside near the church, awaiting our arrival. When the prayers and blessings were concluded, and after they had bowed their heads for a blessing, they departed in an orderly manner to their dwellings, leaving not one behind. It was not hard to guess what this absence of the abbess among them signified.

Then someone led me into the house where the great one lived and opened the door; I entered her sacred cell. She was already greatly afflicted by her illness and lay not on a bed or couch, but on the ground—a board covered with sackcloth; another board, propped beneath her head at an angle, served as a pillow and supported the back of her neck.

When she saw me near the doorway, she raised herself on her elbow (she could not rise fully, for her strength had already been drained by fever), and leaning on her hands upon the floor, she half-lifted herself from her lowly bed to show me the honor of a proper greeting. I went up to her, took her face, which was bent toward the ground, in my hands, lifted it, and gently laid her back as she had been lying. And she, lifting her hands to God, said: “Thou hast granted me this joy also, O God, and hast not deprived me of that which I desired, but hast sent Thy servant to visit Thy handmaid.” That she might not sadden my heart, she held back her groans and struggled with all her strength to conceal the tightness of her breathing, and in everything strove to appear cheerful, initiating pleasant conversations herself and giving us topics by asking questions.

When the course of our conversation brought us to speak of the great Basil, my soul was stirred and my face darkened with sorrow; but she was far from descending to our grief. Instead, she took the memory of the saint as a springboard to a higher philosophy. She turned her attention to human nature and, with her words, unfolded the divine economy hidden within afflictions. As though inspired by the Holy Spirit, she spoke also of the life to come in such words that my soul, enraptured by her speech and lifted up through the guidance of her words into the heavenly sanctuary, seemed to me nearly to pass beyond the bounds of human nature.

As we read in the story of Job, who wasted away from rotting and festering sores covering his whole body, he never directed his thoughts to the feeling of pain; though disease racked his flesh, his mind remained engaged in lofty discourse. So also, in this great one, I beheld the same thing. Though the fever dried up all her strength and rapidly led her toward death, she, as though her body were refreshed by dew, preserved the clarity of her intellect undisturbed in the contemplation of heavenly matters, and her mind remained untouched by so great an illness. And if this account were not already expanding to boundless length, I would recount in order all the ways in which she elevated our conversation: her philosophizing with us about the soul, the cause of life in the flesh, the purpose of man’s creation, the origin of mortality, and the transition from death to life. Concerning all these things, as if inspired by the power of the Holy Spirit, she explained everything clearly and in proper order, and her words flowed with perfect ease, like water from a spring rushing freely down a slope.

After the conversation ended, she said to me: “Brother, it is time for you, after the toil of your difficult journey, to give your body a little rest.” And though it was a true and great rest for me to look upon her and listen to her lofty words, yet since this brought her delight and pleasure, I, so as to be in all things obedient to my teacher, found a pleasant resting place in one of the nearby gardens—beneath the shade of grapevines—and there I took my rest. But it was impossible to feel joy while the soul was gripped with foreboding sorrow. It seemed to me that what I had seen before my eyes was revealing the meaning of the dream I had earlier: for truly what lay before me were the relics of a holy martyr—dead indeed to sin, but shining with the indwelling grace of the Spirit. I thus interpreted my vision to one who had already heard it from me; and while we, with broken spirits, anxiously awaited a sorrowful outcome, she—whether by divine insight or by some other means—guessed our thoughts and sent us a more joyful message, bidding us be of good cheer and hope for the best, for she felt her illness was tending toward recovery. And she did not say this to mislead us, but in pure truth, though we did not then understand it.

For indeed, like a swift runner who has overtaken his opponent and nears the end of his course, already almost touching the victor’s crown, rejoicing inwardly as though he had already received the prize, and who calls out to the favorable spectators of his race to declare his victory—so she too, in this same spirit, let us know that we might hope for the best, for she already beheld the reward of her high calling, and was all but reciting the words of the Apostle: “Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me” (2 Tim. 4:7–8), for she had “fought the good fight, finished the course, and kept the faith.”

Thus, cheered by this good news, we arose and went to partake of the meal set before us; it was varied, and everything had been prepared with full hospitality—such was the thoughtful care of the great one, extending even to this. But when we again returned to her presence (for she would not permit us to spend even the hour of rest apart), she began recounting, in order as if reading from a written book, all that had occurred to her throughout her life from youth onward: what she remembered of our parents, what had happened before her birth, and all that followed after. The purpose of her narrative was to offer thanksgiving to God. She spoke of the life of our parents as being honorable and renowned not so much for wealth as for the abundance of divine love. For our father’s parents, having confessed Christ, suffered exile for their faith; and our maternal grandfather, due to the wrath of the emperor, was stripped of his property, and all that he possessed was transferred to other owners. Yet despite this, because of their faith, their earthly goods were so increased that none at that time were more prominent than they. And though their property had been divided into nine shares according to the number of children, each one’s portion, by God’s blessing, increased so greatly that every child’s estate surpassed that of the parents. But as for herself, she kept nothing of her inheritance, which was hers by equal right with her brothers; she gave it all to a priest, that he might distribute it according to the divine commandment. As for her own life, with the help of God, she lived in such a way that she never ceased to work with her own hands, according to the commandment; she never turned to others for help, nor did she seek any man’s charity for a respectable life. Yet neither did she turn away those who asked, nor did she go seeking those who might give—for God, in His hidden providence, caused her modest means from her labor to increase like seeds, bringing forth diverse fruits in abundance by His blessing.

When I recounted my own sufferings—first, my exile at the hands of Emperor Valens for the faith, and then the hardships stirred by the disorders in the churches, which summoned us to labors and struggles—the great one said to me: “Will you never cease being ungrateful for God’s blessings? Will you not heal your soul of thanklessness? Will you not compare your condition with that of our parents? In this world we boast, above all, of our noble birth and descent from honorable parents. Our father, she said, was famed in his day for his learning, but his renown was limited to the courts of his own land. Though in the art of speech he surpassed others, his fame extended no further than Pontus. He was content to be honored in his own country. But you, she said, are known to cities, assemblies, and entire provinces; churches summon and call you for help and correction. Do you not see the grace of God? Do you not understand the reason for such great blessings—that it is the prayers of our parents that have lifted you to such heights, you who were scarcely or not at all prepared for this task at home?”

As she spoke in this way, I wished the daylight might be prolonged, so that she would not cease delighting our ears. But the voice of the singers summoned us to the evening prayer of thanksgiving. So she dismissed me to church, and the great one again turned in prayer to God. Thus the night passed.

When day dawned, I understood from what I saw that this was the final day of her life on earth. The fever had drained all her bodily strength. Yet she, seeing that we were cast down in spirit, skillfully strove to draw us away from sorrowful expectation, once again dispelling our grief with those beautiful words of hers, though now uttered with labored and broken breath.

At the sight of all this, my soul was torn by many conflicting thoughts. Nature, of course, urged sorrow, for I no longer expected to hear her voice again. A little while more—and the common glory of our family was to depart from the life of men. But my soul, beholding this sight, seemed to be inspired and led to the thought that she had truly transcended the bounds of human nature. For to be at the very point of death and to feel nothing extraordinary about that moment, to have no fear of departing from life, but rather to philosophize with elevated understanding concerning this life, maintaining to the end the same view she had held from the beginning—this seemed to me less a human act than that of some angel who, by divine dispensation, had taken on the form of man. An angel who, having no kinship or attachment to fleshly life, naturally keeps his reason undisturbed—for the flesh does not draw his mind into its passions.

Therefore, it seemed to me that this divine and pure love for the unseen Bridegroom, which she had nourished in secret within her soul, was now being openly declared before us all, clearly revealing her heart’s desire to hasten to the Beloved—to be loosed from the bonds of the flesh and united with Him. For truly, the course of her life had ever moved toward virtue, and nothing among the pleasures of this world had ever drawn her attention away from that path.

The greater part of the day had already passed, and the sun was leaning toward its setting; but the joyful disposition of her spirit did not abandon her. On the contrary, the closer she came to her departure, the more she beheld the beauty of the Bridegroom, and the more eagerly she hastened toward the Beloved. Her speech turned no longer to us who were present, but to Him upon whom her gaze was fixed with intense longing, for her bed was turned toward the East.

And so, leaving off her conversation with us, she spent the remaining time in prayer, communing with God, raising her hands and uttering words in a faint voice, so low that we could scarcely hear them. Yet her prayer was such that there was no doubt it was being poured forth sincerely to God and heard by Him.

She said: “Thou, O Lord, hast loosed for us the fear of death; Thou hast made the end of this earthly life the beginning of true life. Thou restest our bodies for a time in the sleep of death and shalt awaken them again at the sound of the final trumpet. Thou dost entrust to the earth our frail composition, fashioned by Thy hands, as a pledge—and wilt reclaim that which Thou hast given, transforming our mortal and dishonored form into immortality and glory.

Thou hast delivered us from the curse and from sin, becoming both curse and sin for us. Thou hast broken the heads of the dragon, who opened his jaws against man to draw him into the pit of disobedience. Thou hast opened for us the path to the resurrection, breaking the gates of hell and trampling underfoot him who had the power of death—the devil. Thou hast given a sign to them that fear Thee: the symbol of Thy holy Cross, for victory over the adversary and the protection of our life.

O Eternal God, to whom I have clung from my mother’s womb, whom my soul has loved with all her strength, to whom I have consecrated my soul and body from my youth until this very moment—appoint to me a shining angel to guide me to the place of refreshment, where is the water of rest, to the bosom of the holy fathers.

Thou who didst break the flaming sword and restore to Paradise the man crucified with Thee who had fled to Thy mercy—remember me also in Thy Kingdom. For I too am crucified with Thee, having nailed my flesh to the fear of Thee, trembling before Thy judgment. Let not that dreadful chasm separate me from Thy elect; let not the accuser obstruct my path; let not my sins rise up before Thy face—if in anything I have stumbled, through the weakness of the flesh, whether in word, deed, or thought.

Thou who hast authority on earth to forgive sins, forgive me, that I may find refreshment and may be found before Thee, when I have cast off this body, with the image of my soul untainted. May my spirit, pure and undefiled like incense before Thee, be received into Thy hands.”

And as she spoke this, she traced the sign of the Cross upon her eyes, lips, and heart. A little afterward, her tongue, dried from the fever, could no longer utter words, and her voice faded. Yet by the motion of her lips and the movement of her hands, we understood that she was still continuing her prayer.

As evening came and the lamp was brought in, she suddenly opened her eyes wide and, turning toward the light, gave indication that she was preparing to offer the evening thanksgiving prayer. But since her voice had failed, she fulfilled this intent with her heart and with the movement of her hands; her lips moved in harmony with the inner impulse of her soul.

When she had completed this thanksgiving, and when her hand, lifted to her face to seal herself with the sign of the Cross, indicated the end of her prayer—then, releasing a deep and long breath, together with her prayer she also released her life.

When she at last became still and breathless, I recalled the charge she had given me at our very first meeting—that she wished my hands to close her eyes and render the final honor to her body. So, though my hand was weakened by sorrow, I touched her holy face, only so as not to seem to neglect her command. For in truth, there was no need to perform this service: her eyes were already gently closed beneath their lids, as if in sleep; her lips modestly shut; her hands reverently folded upon her chest; and her whole body lay in such grace that it needed no arranging by any hand.

But my soul was doubly tormented by grief: by what my eyes beheld and by the wailing cries of the virgins that pierced my ears. Until that moment, they had been courageous, silent, suppressing their sorrow within, restraining their urge to weep out of reverence for her, afraid that even a sound might draw a rebuke from their teacher—even though her lips were now forever silent. They feared to grieve her with their sobbing.

But now, grief could no longer be restrained in silence. Sorrow, like a fire consuming their hearts, broke forth in a bitter and uncontrollable cry so intense that even my reason faltered in its firmness. My own sorrow, like an overflowing flood, burst outward—and forgetting all that I held in my hands, I surrendered wholly to weeping.

And the cause of their weeping seemed to me not only just but righteous. For they did not bewail the loss of some mere earthly comfort or ordinary care—but cried out over the loss of their very hope in God and the salvation of their souls. This is what they mourned in their tears, saying:

“The lamp of our eyes is extinguished! The light that guided our souls has been taken away! The support of our life is gone; the seal of incorruption is removed; the bond of chastity is broken; the stronghold of the weak is cast down; the healing of the infirm is taken from us! With thee, even the night was made as day, illumined by the purity of thy life—but now even the day shall turn to darkness!”

Yet more bitter than the rest were the lamentations of those who called her their mother and their nourisher. For there were some among them whom, during a time of famine, she had found abandoned by the roadside—whom she had taken in, fed, raised, and brought up into the pure and incorrupt life.

After this, I turned my gaze upon that holy head and, as if reproached by it for the disorder caused by the loud weeping of those present, I seemed to call my soul out from some deep place and, raising my voice, cried aloud to the virgins: “Look upon her, and remember her instructions, by which she taught us in all things to maintain order and decency. That divine soul appointed a time for tears, commanding that they be shed during prayer—this we can now fulfill by turning our sobbing into fitting psalmody.” I said this loudly, in order to drown out the wailing cries. Then I ordered that they all withdraw for a time into a nearby house, leaving only a few of those who had served her during life.

Among them was a noblewoman, who in her youth had been renowned for her wealth, lineage, bodily beauty, and other qualities. Having been married to a worthy man, she lived with him only a short while, was freed from wedlock in the prime of life, and had chosen the great Makrina as the guardian and guide of her widowhood. For a long time she lived among the virgins, learning from them the life of virtue. Her name was Vettiana; her father had been a member of the imperial senate. I said to her: “Now it would not be improper to lay upon this body more radiant garments, to clothe this pure and undefiled flesh in bright raiment.” But she replied that we ought first to learn what the saint herself would have approved in this matter, for it would be wholly unfitting on our part to do anything contrary to her will. Surely, she said, what is pleasing to God will also be pleasing to her.

There was a woman who presided over the choir of virgins, bearing the rank of deaconess, by name Lampadia. She said that she knew precisely what the saint had arranged for her burial. When I asked her about it (for she had been present at the discussion), she answered with tears: “The adornment the saint cared for was a pure life—this was her ornament in life, and now it is her garment in death. As for bodily decorations, she neither used them in life nor prepared any for this occasion. Therefore, even if we wished to do something, we cannot, for there is nothing prepared for this purpose.”

“But,” I asked, “can we not find something in the storerooms that might serve to adorn her body for the funeral?” “What storerooms,” she said, “are you speaking of? Everything she saved you now have in your hands. Here is her garment, here her head-covering, here her worn sandals—this is her wealth, this is her estate. Beyond what you now see, there is nothing kept in secret places, nothing locked away in chests or storerooms. The only place she knew to store her treasure was the heavenly treasury—there she laid up all things, and left nothing behind on earth.”

“And what,” I said to her, “if I bring something of what I have prepared for the burial—would even that be displeasing to her?” “I do not think that would be contrary to her will,” she said, “for even in life she did not refuse such an honor from you, for two reasons: for the priesthood she always revered, and because of your natural kinship. What belonged to her brother she never considered alien to herself; and that is why she charged you to prepare her body with your own hands.”

When this was approved and the holy body was to be clothed in garments, we divided the task among ourselves, each contributing one thing or another. I commanded one of my attendants to bring the clothing, and the aforementioned Vettiana, as she dressed the sacred head with her own hands, touched the neck, and looking at me, said: “Behold the adornment that hung upon the saint’s neck.” With these words, she untied a knot at the back and reached out her hand to show us an iron cross and a small ring of the same metal; both had been suspended from a fine cord of hair and had always rested over her heart.

“Let us divide this inheritance between us,” I said. “You take the saving cross, and let the ring be enough for me as a legacy—for the seal on it bears also the sign of the cross.” Looking carefully at the ring, the woman said again to me: “You have not erred in your choice of what remains—for beneath the stone of the ring there is a small cavity in which is hidden a fragment of the life-giving wood (of the Cross), and thus the seal that lies above it, by its engraving, reveals what lies hidden below.”

When the time came to clothe that pure body in garments, and the testament of the great Makrina had laid upon me the duty of performing this service, the woman who had assisted us and had shared in the great inheritance with us said: “Do not overlook the greatness of the wondrous deeds performed by the saint.” “What do you mean?” I asked. She uncovered a part of the breast and said, “Do you see this small, barely visible mark beneath the skin? It looks like a tiny prick made by a fine needle,” and with that she brought the lamp closer to the spot she indicated. “What,” I asked, “is so remarkable about an indistinct mark, perhaps left by some accidental prick?”

“This,” she said, “remains as a memorial of a great divine help. Once, a painful swelling appeared on this part of her body, and there was danger that it might need to be cut open. Otherwise, the illness might have become incurable if it had reached the region near the heart. Her mother long pleaded and urged her to seek the help of a physician, since, as she said, that art too is given by God for the benefit of man. But she, considering the uncovering of any part of her body before strange eyes more grievous than the illness itself, after fulfilling her usual service to her mother in the evening, withdrew to the holy sanctuary and spent the whole night in prayer to God the Healer. Mixing the tears flowing from her eyes with earth, she used this muddy paste as medicine on the swelling. And when her mother, grieved in spirit, again begged her to seek a physician, she replied that the only remedy she needed was for her mother to make the sign of the Cross over the swelling with her own hand. As soon as her mother laid her hand upon her breast and made the sign of the Cross, the illness vanished. But this small mark appeared immediately in the place of the once terrible swelling, and remained until the end of her life—so that it might serve, I believe, as a lasting sign of divine visitation, a memorial that would continually prompt her to give thanks to God.”

When we had finished our tasks and had adorned the body as best we could, the deaconess said: “It is not fitting that she, adorned like a bride, should lie openly before the virgins’ eyes. There is a dark-colored cloak of your mother’s kept with me—let us, I think, cover the body with it, so that her sacred beauty may not shine out with garments unworthy of her.” This opinion was accepted, and the cloak was laid over her. But even under the dark veil she still shone forth, for I believe a divine power had granted that grace also to her body, so that, in accord with my vision during the night, some radiant beams seemed to emanate from her beauty.

While we were thus engaged, and the combined sound of weeping and psalmody filled the place, I know not how, but word of the saint’s repose spread quickly through the surrounding region, and all the nearby inhabitants came running so that the courtyard could not contain the gathering crowd. All night long, as at the feasts of martyrs, psalmody was sung around her. At dawn, a multitude of men and women assembled from all parts of the region, and their wailing cries drowned out the psalmody.

Though deeply troubled in spirit by the sorrowful event, I did my utmost to ensure that the funeral was conducted with all due reverence. So I divided the people in two: the women I placed with the virgins’ choir, and the men with the assembly of monks, and from both I formed a single harmonious and orderly choir for psalmody, like that of well-trained singers. As the day advanced and the desert place grew crowded with the arriving multitudes, the bishop who oversaw the region, by name Araxius (for he had come with all his clergy), ordered that the funeral bier be carried slowly—since the way was long, and the crowd would hinder swifter movement—and summoned all his clergy to carry the body.

When this was received gladly, I lifted one side of the bier, offering the other to him, while two other honorable clergy took up the rear corners. Thus the procession moved forward as befitted the solemnity; but we progressed slowly, for the crowd pressed in on all sides and none seemed able to get their fill of the sacred sight. On either side of the bier walked many deacons and attendants in order, all bearing lighted wax candles. The whole scene was like a sacred procession: from the first to the last, all joined in a single voice, chanting the psalms in harmony, as in the hymn of the three youths.

Since the distance from the desert dwelling to the church of the holy martyrs—where her parents’ bodies lay—was about seven or eight stadia, nearly the whole day was spent in the procession. For the crowd already present and the steady stream of new arrivals did not permit us to complete the journey as swiftly as we had intended. At last, when we reached the church, we first laid down the bier and turned to prayer—but this prayer became a new occasion for lamentation. For when the psalmody ceased, and the virgins saw again the sacred face, and when the tomb of her parents was opened where she was to be laid, one of them cried aloud in anguish that from this hour we would no longer see her divine countenance, and the others raised their voices with hers.

Then the solemn and orderly psalmody dissolved into a great tumult, as everyone joined in their weeping. When we had at last calmed them to silence, the deacon began the prayer and proclaimed aloud the usual litanies of the Church. Only then was the reverent order of prayer among the people restored.

After the prayer had been properly concluded, a certain fear came over me—lest I transgress the divine commandment which forbids uncovering the nakedness of one’s father or mother (Leviticus 18:7). “How,” I asked myself, “shall I avoid condemnation, if I behold in the bodies of my parents the disfigurement common to human nature, for they have likely decayed, collapsed, and been transformed into a repulsive and unpleasant sight?” And as I pondered this, the account of Noah’s indignation against his son intensified my dread (cf. Genesis 9:25). Yet the same story of Noah provided me counsel for what was right to do.

Before the bodies were made visible to our eyes, they were covered with a clean linen cloth, which had been laid across from one raised side of the coffin lid to the other. And so, once the bodies were thus veiled in linen, I and the aforementioned local bishop, lifting the sacred body from the bier, laid it beside her mother, fulfilling the shared desire of both. For throughout their lives, they had prayed with one mind to God that their bodies, too, would be united in death, so that the companionship they had kept in life might not be sundered after death.

Once all the customary funeral rites had been fulfilled, and it was time for us to return, I fell before the tomb and kissed the dust, and set out again on my way, weeping and sorrowing in my heart as I reflected on what a great treasure I had lost in this life. On the return journey, a man well-known among the military—an officer stationed in a Pontic town called Sebastopolis, living there with his command—kindly came out to meet us as we approached the city. When he heard of the loss (for he was bound to us by ties of kinship and friendship), he was struck with grief and shared with me a miracle worked by her, which I shall now record as the final note of this narrative.

When our weeping had quieted and we entered into conversation, he said to me: “Listen to what a great and holy treasure has passed from this life.” And he told the story in these words:

“Once, my wife and I were filled with a strong desire to visit the school of virtue—for so I think that place should rightly be called, where the blessed soul dwelt. With us came our little daughter, who, due to a contagious illness, had suffered a condition in her eye that made her very unpleasant to look at. For a film had grown over the pupil, and a white spot had formed because of the disease. When we entered that divine dwelling, my wife and I, according to our sexes, were received into the respective areas: I into the men’s quarters, where your brother Peter was abbot, and my wife among the women, where she was received by the saint herself.

Now, after some time had passed, we decided it was time to return home from the desert. But at the moment of our departure, we were lovingly detained from both sides. Your brother invited me to stay and share the table of philosophy, and the blessed one would not release my wife, but holding our daughter in her arms said she would not give her back until she had set a table before them and shared with them the riches of virtue.

Then, as she kissed the child and pressed her lips to the girl’s eyes, she noticed the white film upon the pupil and said: ‘If you will grant me this favor and stay to share our table, I will give you a gift not unworthy of such a kindness.’ When the mother asked, ‘And what sort of gift is this?’ the great one replied: ‘I have a remedy that can cure this affliction of the eye.’ And when word of this reached me from the women’s quarters, and I heard of such a promise, we joyfully decided to stay, no longer concerned about the urgent need to return home.”

When the meal had ended and our desire had been fulfilled—your brother, the great Peter, himself served me with his own hands and delighted me with his conversation, while the holy Macrina, with the utmost gracious hospitality, sent my wife on her way—we returned with joy and gladness. Along the way, we each recounted to the other how we had spent our time. I told her what I had seen and heard in the men’s quarters, and she, recounting everything in detail like a written history, considered it her duty not to omit even the smallest matter.

As she narrated everything in order, like a well-composed tale, and came to the part where the healing of the eye had been promised, she suddenly interrupted herself. “What have we done? How could we have neglected her promise and failed to seek the healing ointment she offered for the eye?” When I likewise rebuked our negligence and ordered someone to run back quickly to request the medicine, the child, who was then in the arms of her nurse, happened by chance to look at her mother. The mother, gazing intently into her daughter’s eyes, cried out with joy and astonishment, “Stop reproaching our carelessness!”—speaking loudly in delight. “For behold, all that she promised us has been fulfilled! The true remedy she possessed—healing by prayer—she has indeed given us, and it has already worked: there is not the slightest trace left of the illness in the eye, now clear by that divine healing!” Saying this, she embraced the child and placed her in my arms.

Then I, reflecting on the Gospel miracles so often rejected by unbelief, said, “What is there to marvel at, if the hand of God once gave sight to the blind, when in our own time His handmaid, working healing through faith in Him, has performed a work only slightly lesser than those wonders?”

As he told this, his voice was broken by sobs, and tears streamed from his eyes. Such was the account given me by the military commander. As for the other similar miracles, which we heard from those who had lived with her and knew her whole life intimately, I do not deem it prudent to add them to this account. For many judge the truth of what is told to them by the measure of their own capacity, and if something surpasses their understanding, they take it as false and insult it with accusations of deceit.

Therefore, I shall omit that extraordinary event during a famine, when the grain distributed to the poor was not diminished in quantity, but remained equal to what it had been before its distribution. I shall also omit other, even more wondrous occurrences—healings of the sick, casting out of demons, and accurate predictions of future events. All this is undoubted truth for those who knew her well, though it may seem unbelievable to others. For those who are more carnal in mind, such things seem impossible, since they do not understand that the distribution of gifts is given according to the measure of faith: little to the faint-hearted, much to those rich in the capacity of faith.

Thus, lest the unbelieving suffer harm by disbelieving the gifts of God, I refrain from relating in detail the greater miracles she performed, considering it sufficient to end the account with what has already been said.

Text reproduced from the edition: Works of St. Gregory of Nyssa, Part 8. Moscow Theological Academy, 1871.

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