A Homily on the Cemetery and on the Cross of our Lord and God and Savior Jesus Christ #

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.