ORDINATION AS DEACON—DESCRIPTION OF ANTIOCH—WORKS COMPOSED DURING HIS
DIACONATE. A.D. 381-386.
Probably one of the last acts of Bishop Meletius before he left
Antioch to attend the Council of Constantinople in 381, was to ordain
Chrysostom a deacon. The bishop never returned. He died during the
session of the council of which he was president, leaving both that
and the see of Antioch distracted by the most deplorable factions. It
will be remembered[164] that the Catholics of Antioch had, ever since
the ill-judged mission of Lucifer of Cagliari, been divided between
allegiance to Paulinus, a priest of the old Eustathian party, who had
been consecrated bishop by Lucifer, and Meletius, bishop of the more
moderate party. With the laudable purpose of healing this schism, it
is said that several of the clergy at Antioch, who were considered
most likely to succeed to a vacancy, bound themselves under an oath,
that in the event of either bishop dying, they would decline the offer
of the see, if made, and acknowledge the survivor. But on the death
of Meletius, their plan was frustrated. Either the Asiatics, who
generally favoured Meletius, refused to submit to the authority of
Paulinus, because he had been ordained by a Western prelate, or the
Eustathians who acknowledged Paulinus were unwilling on their side to
admit Meletians into their fold. In any case, the earnest endeavours
of Gregory of Nazianzum, now President of the Council, to unite the
two factions under one prelate were unsuccessful.[165] The Meletians
elected Flavian to be their bishop, one of the very priests who had,
under oath, renounced their pretensions to the see. This appointment
of course exposed Flavian to the imputation of perjury, but we may
hope that, like Gregory, he yielded to a pressing necessity only,
and to a conviction that the dissension would have been aggravated
and protracted if he had obdurately refused.[166] At any rate, as
will hereafter appear, his conduct, wherever it comes before us, is
worthy of all admiration, and Chrysostom must have filled the office
of deacon with happiness under his administration. A greater contrast
than the initiation of Chrysostom into clerical life, and that of a
young deacon in modern times, can scarcely be imagined. He was in his
thirty-seventh year, and had supplemented the good liberal education
of his youth by several years of devotion to close study of Scripture,
to rigorous mortification of the body, to prayer and meditation, and
to every means of promoting the culture of the soul. After this long
and careful training, he enters the subordinate ranks of the clergy,
not to discharge, like a modern deacon, duties as laborious, and often
as responsible, as those which pertained to the priest, but such light
and irresponsible tasks as were suitable to men who might be young,
and were necessarily inexperienced in pastoral work. The deacons were
sometimes called the Levites of the Christian Church.[167] It was their
office to take care of the holy table and its furniture, to administer
the cup to the laity, but not to a priest or a bishop, and occasionally
to read the Gospel.[168] They were in most churches permitted to
baptize.[169] But their peculiar duty in the services of the Church
was to call the attention of the people to every fresh movement, to
use a musical expression, in the progress of the service. Thus at the
close of the sermon, the deacon’s voice was heard crying: “Let the
hearers [_i.e._ the second order of catechumens who were permitted to
hear the sermon, but not the conclusion of the Eucharistic service] and
the unbelievers depart!”[170] Then he bid the remaining orders of the
catechumens, _i.e._ the energumens, the competentes, and the penitents
to pray for one another, and the people also to pray for them; ἐκτενῶς
δεηθῶμεν, “let us ardently pray for them”—such was the form. Again when
they were dismissed by the command ἀπολύεσθε, “disperse,” the faithful
were invited by the deacon to pray for the whole state of Christ’s
Church.[171] Thus the deacons were the sacred criers or heralds of
the Church; they “proclaimed or bid prayer,” they announced each part
as it was unfolded in the sacred drama of the Liturgy. The frequent
recurrence in our own Liturgy, without much apparent significance, of
the form “Let us pray,” is a remnant of these old diaconal invitations.
The deacons were not permitted to preach except by a special direction
of the bishop. Their duty in part corresponded to that of our
churchwardens; they were to reprove any improper behaviour during
divine service,[172] to bring cases of poverty and sickness before the
notice of the bishop, to distribute the alms under his direction, and
also to report to him grave moral offences.[173] They were essentially,
as the name implies, ministers to the bishops and priests, and were
often styled, in symbolical language, “the bishop’s eyes,” or “ears,”
or “right hand.” The attitude of respect, which they were bound to
maintain in church towards bishops and priests was in keeping with the
servitorial character of their office as a whole. While the priests had
their chairs ranged on either side of the central chair of the bishop
in the choir, the deacons stood humbly by, as if ready to receive and
execute the directions of their superiors.[174] Even the Roman deacons,
who rose rather above the natural lowliness of their office, did not
presume to sit in the church.[175]
The duties of the diaconate must have brought Chrysostom into constant
intercourse with the Christian population of Antioch, and especially
with the poorer portion of it. The whole population of the city
amounted, according to Chrysostom’s statement, to 200,000,[176] and
the Christians to 100,000,[177] of whom 3000 were indigent, and mainly
supported by the bounty of the Church.[178] The deacon’s function of
searching out and relieving the necessitous by distribution of alms
must have been peculiarly congenial to him. There is no Christian
duty on which he more constantly and earnestly insists than that of
almsgiving, not only in order to alleviate the sufferings of poverty,
but as a means of counteracting the inordinate avarice and selfish
luxury which were the prevailing vices in the higher ranks of society,
both in Antioch and Constantinople. His hold upon the affections of the
common people, partly no doubt through his sympathy with their needs,
partly by his bold denunciation of the vices of the wealthy, partly by
his affectionate and earnest plain-speaking of Christian truth, was
remarkably strong throughout his life. As during the secluded leisure
of his monastic life he had acquired a profound intimacy with Holy
Scripture, so in the more active labours of his diaconate he enlarged
his knowledge of human nature, and stored up observations on the
character and manners of the people among whom he moved; qualifications
no less important for the formation of a great and effective preacher.
It may not be uninteresting to take a brief glance at the character of
the city and its inhabitants among whom he was destined to labour for
the next seventeen years of his life.
Both nature and art combined to make Antioch one of the most
delectable and luxurious residences in the world. The advantages of
its situation, in some most important respects, could scarcely be
exceeded. The river Orontes, connecting it with the sea about three
miles distant, was the throat through which the city was fed with
merchandise from all parts of the world. The wooded shores of the large
lake of Antioch some miles above the city, supplied the inhabitants
with fuel, and its waters yielded fish in great abundance. The hills
which impended over the town on the southern side sent down numerous
and copious streams, whose water, unsurpassed in purity, bubbled
up through the fountains which stood in the court of every house.
Northwards extended a fertile plain between the Orontes and Mount
Coryphæus. The northern winds were occasionally keen and searching,
but the prevailing western breezes coming up from the sea were so
delicately soft, yet refreshing, that the citizens delighted in summer
to sleep upon the flat roofs of their dwellings. These advantages,
however, were in some degree balanced by a liability to inundations
and earthquakes. Those hill-streams, the blessing and delight of the
inhabitants in summer, were sometimes swollen in winter by excessive
rains into torrents of incontrollable fury, and caused much damage
to the buildings which were situated near their course. But far more
destructive were the earthquakes. More than once, indeed, especially in
the reigns of Caligula, Claudius, and Trajan, the whole city was almost
shattered to pieces; but on each occasion, through public and private
exertions, it arose from its ruins in new and, if possible, increased
magnificence. The peculiar glories of Antioch were its gardens, and
baths, and colonnaded streets. As in its population, and religion, and
customs, so also in its architecture, it presented, as time went on, a
remarkable mixture of Asiatic, Greek, and Roman elements. The aim of
each Greek king and Roman emperor was to leave it more beautiful than
he had received it from the hands of his predecessor. Each marked his
reign by the erection of a temple or basilica, or bath, or aqueduct, or
theatre, or column. The church in which Chrysostom officiated, usually
called “the great Church,” to distinguish it from the smaller and older
church, called the Church of the Apostles, was begun by Constantine
and finished by Constantius. In the main principles of structure, we
may find some parallel to it in St. Vitale at Ravenna. It stood in
the centre of a large court, and was octangular in shape; chambers,
some of them subterranean, were clustered round it; the domed roof,
of an amazing height, was gilded on the inside; the floor was paved
with polished marbles; the walls and columns were adorned with images,
and glistened with precious stones; every part, indeed, was richly
embellished with bronze and golden ornament.[179] Among the principal
wonders of Antioch was the great street constructed by Antiochus
Epiphanes, nearly four miles in length, which traversed the city from
east to west; the natural inequalities of the ground were filled up, so
that the thoroughfare was a perfect level from end to end; the spacious
colonnades on either side were paved with red granite. From the centre
of this magnificent street, where stood a statue of Apollo, another
street, similar in character, but much shorter, was drawn at right
angles, leading northwards in the direction of the Orontes. Many of the
other streets were also colonnaded, so that the inhabitants, as they
pursued their errands of business or pleasure, were sheltered alike
from the scorching sun of summer and the rains of winter. Innumerable
lanterns at night illuminated the main thoroughfares with a brilliancy
which almost rivalled the light of day, and much of the business, as
well as the festivity, of the inhabitants was carried on by night.[180]
The character of the inhabitants partook of the various
elements—Asiatic, Syrian, Greek, Jewish, Roman—which composed the whole
population. But the impulsive oriental temperament, subject at times
to fits of gloomy despondency, and to outbursts of wild ferocity, was
undoubtedly the most dominant. When not driven under the pressure of
excitement to either of these extremes, they abandoned themselves
very freely to those voluptuous recreations for which the character
of their city and climate afforded every facility and inducement.
The bath, the circus, the theatre, were the daily amusements of the
citizen; the Olympic games (instituted in the time of Commodus), which
were celebrated in the grove of Daphne, and the festivities held at
particular seasons in honour of different deities, were the greater
occasions to which he looked forward with all the eagerness of a
pleasure-loving nature.
These main characteristics of the people are abundantly illustrated in
detail, as will be seen hereafter, in the homilies of Chrysostom. He is
ever, in them, labouring with indefatigable industry and earnestness
to lift the Christians above the frivolity and vices of the rest of
the population. His opportunities for investigating the condition of
the Christian community were great during his diaconate. He did not
as yet preach; but by observations on life and manners, he laid up
copious materials for preaching. And he was not idle in the use of his
pen, for to this period may be assigned the treatise on Virginity; a
letter addressed to a young widow; a book on the martyr Babylas; and,
perhaps, though this cannot certainly be determined, the six books on
the Priesthood.[181]
The letter to a young widow must have been written soon after the
destruction of the Emperor Valens and his army by the Goths in
A.D. 378, since it contains a reference to that event as a recent
occurrence,[182] yet it must have been antecedent to the crushing
defeats inflicted on them by Theodosius in A.D. 382, because the writer
implies that at the time of composition the Goths were overrunning
large tracts of the empire with impunity, and mocking the helplessness
and timidity of the imperial troops.[183] The whole book is penetrated
with that profound sense of the misery and instability of things human,
which the corruption of society and recent calamities of the empire
impressed with peculiar force on the minds of reflecting persons; which
produced among pagans either melancholy or careless indifference, but
made Christians cling with a more earnest and tenacious trust to the
hopes and consolations of the Gospel.
Therasius, the husband of the young widow, had died after five
years of married life. He is described by Chrysostom as having been
distinguished in rank, in ability, and, above all, in virtue; as having
held a high position in the army, with a reasonable expectation of
soon becoming a prefect. But these very excellencies and brilliant
prospects, which seemed to aggravate the sense of his loss, “ought,”
Chrysostom observes, “to be regarded as sources of consolation. If
death were a final and total destruction, then indeed it would have
been reasonable to lament the extinction of one so benevolent, so
gentle, so humble, prudent, and devout, as her late husband. But if
death was only the landing of the soul in a tranquil haven, only a
transition from the worse to better, from earth to heaven, from men
to angels and archangels, and to Him who is the Lord of angels, then
there was no place left for tears. It was better that he should depart
and be with Christ, his true King, serving Whom in that other world,
he would not be exposed to the dangers and animosities which attended
the service of an earthly monarch. They were, indeed, separated in
body, but neither length of time nor remoteness of place could sunder
the friendship of the soul. Endure patiently for a little time, and
you will behold again the face of your desire; perhaps even now, in
visions, his form will be permitted to visit you.”[184] If it was the
loss of the prefecture that she specially deplored, let her think
from what dangerous ambitions her husband had been preserved; think
of the fate of Theodorus, who was tempted by his high station to lay
a plot against the Emperor, and suffered capital punishment for his
treason.[185] The loftier a man’s ambitions in life, the more probable
a disastrous fall. Look at the tragical fate of the Emperors in the
course of the past fifty years. Two only, out of nine, had died natural
deaths; of the other seven, one had been killed by a usurper,[186] one
in battle,[187] one by a sedition of his domestic guards,[188] one by
the man who had invested him with the purple.[189] Julian had fallen
in battle in the Persian expedition. Valentinian I. died in a fit of
rage, and Valens had been burnt, together with his retinue, in a house
to which the Goths set fire. And of the widows of these Emperors, some
had perished by poison, others had died of despair and broken hearts.
Of those who yet survived, one was trembling for the safety of an
orphan son,[190] another had with difficulty obtained permission to
return from exile.[191] Of the wives of the present Emperors, one was
racked by constant anxiety on account of the youth and inexperience
of her husband,[192] the other was subject to no less anxiety for her
husband’s safety, who ever since his elevation to the throne had been
engaged in incessant warfare with the Goths.[193] Human ambition was
a hard taskmistress, who employed arrogance and avarice as her agents;
“do not then, mourn that your husband has been emancipated from her
tyranny.” Most of the wisest and noblest characters even of the pagan
world had resisted the allurements of ambition—Socrates, Epaminondas,
Aristides, Diogenes, Crates. Shall the Christian then complain, if God
takes one away from these temptations? He who cared least about glory,
who was natural and modest, and unambitious, often acquired most glory,
whereas he who was most eager and anxious to secure it, often obtained
nothing but derision and reproach. She believed that her husband might
have obtained the prefecture; it was a reasonable hope, but there was
many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip, and he who was king to-day was
dead to-morrow. “Strive, then, to equal and even surpass your husband
in piety and goodness, that you may be admitted into the same home, and
reunited to him in a bond far more lovely and enduring than that of
earthly wedlock.”
In the long treatise “De Virginitate,” Chrysostom boldly declares his
preference for celibacy, but at the same time he exposes and denounces
the mischievous error of Marcionites and Manichæans, who condemned
marriage altogether as positive sin. “They were mistaken in supposing
that abstinence from marriage would procure them a high place in
heaven, because, even if it were granted that marriage was a positive
sin, it must be remembered that not those who abstained from sin, but
those who did positive good, would receive the highest rewards; not one
who abstained from calling his brother ‘Raca,’ but he who loved his
enemies. The celibacy of heretics, such as the Manichæans, was based on
the false conception that all created matter was evil, and that the
Creator Himself was an inferior being to the Supreme Deity. Hence their
celibacy was the work of the devil; they belonged to those mentioned
only to be condemned in 1 Tim. iv. 1-3 ‘as forbidding to marry.’[194]
Chastity of body was worthless, if the soul within was depraved; but
celibacy rightly cultivated, to preserve the purity of the soul towards
God, was better than marriage, better as heaven was better than earth,
and angels better than men.” He confronts the common objection: if
all men embraced celibacy, how would the race be propagated? “Myriads
of angels inhabit heaven, yet we believe they are not propagated by
matrimony, and it was only by the special provision and will of God,
that matrimony itself produced offspring. Sarah was barren till God
vouchsafed her Isaac. Marriage was the inferior state to conduct us
to the higher; it was to celibacy as the Law to the Gospel, it was
a crutch to support those who would otherwise fall into sin, but to
be dispensed with when possible. Let those, then, who reproached and
derided celibacy, put a restraint upon their lips, lest like Miriam, or
the children who mocked Elisha, they should be severely punished for
pouring contempt on so holy a state.”[195]
We are enabled to understand from this work why the best Christianity
in the East was so disparaging of the married state. The woman had
not attained her proper place in society. She seems to have been
ill-educated, to have been kept, especially before marriage, in a state
of unnatural seclusion, which she broke when she could, and was too
often treated by the husband like a slave, with severity and distrust.
This degrading position was partly a remnant of a pagan state of
society, partly the offspring of oriental character and habits of life.
Christianity perceived the evil, but had not effected much towards
a remedy. Instead of endeavouring to elevate, to soften, and refine
the relation of one sex to the other, it encouraged rather a total
separation. The treatise now under notice presents curious pictures
of domestic life, if such it can be called, in that age. Matrimonial
matches were arranged entirely by the parents, the attentions of the
suitors were paid to the parents, not to the maiden herself. She
suffered an agony of suspense, while the favourite of yesterday was
supplanted by the superior charms of some rival of to-day, who in his
turn was superseded by a third. Sometimes, on the very eve of marriage,
the suitor whom she herself preferred was dismissed, and she was
finally handed over to another whom she disliked. The suitors also, on
their side, were racked by anxiety; for it was difficult to ascertain
what the real character, personal appearance, and manners were of the
maiden, who was always kept in the strictest seclusion. Then there was
often great difficulty in getting the dowry paid by the father-in-law,
which was an annoyance to each of the newly-married pair.[196]
He draws a highly-wrought picture, with some caustic humour, of the
miseries of jealous wives and husbands. When a man constantly suspects
“his dearest love,”[197] for whom he would willingly sacrifice life
itself, what can console him? By day and night he has no peace, and
is irritable to all. Some men have even slain their wives, without
succeeding in cooling their own jealous rage. The trials of the wife
were more severe; her words, her very looks and sighs, were watched by
slaves, and reported to her husband, who was too jealous to distinguish
false tales from the true. The poor woman was reduced to the wretched
alternative of keeping her own apartment, or, if she went out, of
rendering an exact account of her proceedings. Untold wealth, sumptuous
fare, troops of servants, distinguished birth, amounted to nothing
when placed in the balance against such miseries as these. If it was
the woman who was jealous, she suffered more than the man, for she
could not keep him at home, or set the servants to watch him. If she
remonstrated with him, she would be told that she had better hold her
tongue, and keep her suspicions to herself. If the husband instituted
a suit against the wife, the laws were favourable to him, and he
could procure her condemnation, and even death; but if she were the
petitioner, he would escape.[198]
It was very natural that the woman, who, before marriage, was cooped
up like a child in the parental home, should break out afterwards into
extravagance, dissipation, and frivolity, if not worse. An inordinate
amount of time and money was bestowed upon dress, though perhaps not
more than by the fashionable ladies of modern times. Women loaded
themselves with ornaments, under the delusion that these added to
their charms, whereas, Chrysostom observes, if the woman was naturally
beautiful, the ornaments only concealed and detracted from her charms.
If she was ugly, they only set off her ugliness by the glaring
contrast, and the effect on the spectator was ludicrous or painful.
But the adornment of the virgin who had dedicated herself to God was
altogether spiritual. She arrayed herself in gentleness, modesty,
poverty, humility, fasting, vigils. Incorporeal graces and incorporeal
beauty were the objects of her love and contemplation. She treated
enemies with such perfect courtesy and forbearance, that even the
depraved were put to shame in her presence. The goodness of the soul
within overflowed into all her outer actions.[199] From this rapturous
description of a highly spiritual kind of life, Chrysostom passes,
with versatile quickness, to a somewhat ludicrous picture of the petty
cares of life in the world. “The worldly lady thinks it a fine thing
to drive round the Forum; how much better to be independent, and use
her feet for the purpose for which God gave them! There was always some
difficulty about the mules: she and her husband wanted them at the
same time; one or both were lame or turned out to grass. A quiet and
modestly-dressed woman needed no carriage and attendants to protect
her in her passage through the streets, but might walk through the
Forum, free from any annoyance. Some might say it was pleasant to be
waited on by a troop of handmaids; but, on the contrary, such a charge
was attended with much anxiety. Not only had the sick to be taken care
of, but the indolent to be chastised, mischief, quarrels, and all
kinds of evil doings to be corrected; and if there happened to be one
distinguished by personal beauty, jealousy was added to all these other
cares, lest the husband should be so captivated by her charms as to
pay more attention to her than to her mistress.[200] If it was replied
to all these objections against married life, that Abraham and other
saints in the Old Testament were all married men, it must be remembered
that a much higher standard was required under the New Dispensation.
There were degrees of perfection. When Noah was said to be ‘perfect in
his generation,’ it meant relatively to that age in which he lived, for
what is perfect in relation to one era becomes imperfect for another.
Murder was forbidden by the Old Law, but hatred and wrath under the
New. A larger effusion of the Holy Spirit rendered Christian men fully
grown as compared with the children of the Old Dispensation. Degrees of
virtue, impossible then, were attainable now; and as the moral standard
under the Old Dispensation was lower, so the rewards of obedience were
less exalted. The Jews were encouraged to obedience by the promise of
an earthly country, Christians by the prospect of heaven. The Jews
were deterred from sin by menaces of temporal calamity; the Christian,
of eternal punishment. Let us, therefore, not spend our care upon
money-getting and wives and luxurious living, else how shall we ever
become men rather than children, and live in the spirit? for when we
have taken our journey to that other world, the time for contest will
have passed; then those who have not oil in their lamps will be unable
to borrow it from their neighbours, or he who has a soiled garment to
exchange it for another robe. When the Judge’s throne has been placed,
and He is seated upon it, and the fiery stream is ‘coming forth from
before Him’ (Dan. vii. 10), and the scrutiny of past life has begun:
though Noah, Daniel, and Job were to implore an alteration of the
sentence passed upon their own sons and daughters, their intercession
would not avail.”[201]
The long treatise “De S. Babyla contra Julianum et Gentiles” presents
several interesting subjects for consideration. In the history of
the grove of Daphne we have a singular instance of the way in which
Grecian legend was transplanted into foreign soil. Daphne, the daughter
of the Grecian river-god Ladon, was, according to the Syrian version
of the myth, overtaken by Apollo near Antioch. Here it was, on the
banks, not of the Peneus, but of the Orontes, that the maiden prayed
to her mother earth to open her arms and shelter her from the pursuit
of the amorous god, and that the laurel plant sprang out of the spot
where she disappeared from the eyes of her disappointed lover. The
horse of Seleucus Nicator, founder of the Syrian monarchy, was said
to have struck his hoof upon one of the arrows which Apollo had
dropped in the hurry of his chase; in consequence of which the king
dedicated the place to the god. A temple was erected in his honour,
ample in proportions, and sumptuous in its adornments; the interior
walls were resplendent with polished marbles, the lofty ceiling was of
cypress wood. The colossal image of the god, enriched with gold and
gems, nearly reached the top of the roof; the draped portions were of
wood, the nude portions of marble. The fingers of the deity lightly
touched the lyre which hung from his shoulders, and in the other
hand he held a golden dish, as if about to pour a libation on the
earth, “and supplicate the venerable mother to give to his arms the
cold and beauteous Daphne.”[202] The whole grove became consecrated
to pleasure, under the guise of festivity in honour of the god. A
more beautiful combination of delights cannot well be conceived. The
grove was situated five miles to the south-west of Antioch, among the
outskirts of the hills, where many of the limpid streams, rushing down
towards the valley of the Orontes, mingled their waters. The road
which connected the city with this spot was lined on the left hand
with large gardens and groves, baths, fountains, and resting-places;
on the right were villas with vineyards and rose-gardens irrigated by
rivulets. Daphne itself was, according to Strabo,[203] eighty stadia,
or about ten miles, in circumference. It contained everything which
could gratify and charm the senses; the deep impenetrable shade of
cypress trees, the delicious sound and coolness of falling waters,
the fragrance of aromatic shrubs. Such a combination of all that was
voluptuous told with fatal and enervating effect upon the morals of
a people who were at all times disposed to an immoderate indulgence
in luxurious pleasures. Roman troops, and even Roman emperors, fell
victims to the allurements of the spot.[204] The annual celebration
of the Olympian games instituted here by Commodus was especially the
occasion of shocking excesses of every kind. But by the order of Gallus
Cæsar an attempt was made to introduce a pure association into the spot
hitherto abandoned to the licentiousness of pagan rites. The remains
of Babylas, the Bishop of Antioch, who had suffered martyrdom in the
reign of Decius, were transferred from their resting-place in the city
to the grove of Daphne. The chapel or martyry erected over the bones of
the Christian saint stood hard by the temple of the pagan deity. Here
it confronted the Christian visitor, as a warning to him not to take
part in pagan and licentious rites, abhorrent to the faith for which
the Bishop had died. But the remains of the martyr were not permitted
to rest in peace. When Julian visited Antioch, he consulted the oracle
of Apollo at Daphne respecting the issue of the expedition which he
was about to make into Persia. But the oracle was dumb. At length the
god yielded to the importunity of repeated prayers and sacrifices so
far as to explain the cause of his silence. He was disturbed by the
proximity of a dead body: “Break open the sepulchres, take up the
bones, and remove them hence.” The demand was interpreted as referring
to the remains of Babylas, and the wishes of the crestfallen oracle
were complied with.[205] But the insult done to the Christian martyr
was speedily avenged. Soon after the accomplishment of the impious
act, a violent thunderstorm broke over the temple, and the lightning
consumed both the roof of the building and the statue of the deity. At
the time when Chrysostom wrote, some twenty years after the occurrence,
the mournful wreck was yet standing; but the chapel again contained the
relics of the saint and martyr, and conferred blessings on the pilgrims
who resorted thither in crowds. The ruined and deserted temple, side
by side with the carefully-preserved church of the martyr, thronged
by devotees, presented a striking emblem of the fate of paganism,
crumbling and vanishing away before the presence of the new faith,
blasted by the lightning flash of a mightier force. A great portion of
the treatise of Chrysostom is occupied by an analysis of his old master
Libanius’s elegy over the fate of the stricken shrine of pagan worship.
The affected and inflated tone of the sophist’s composition deserves
the sarcasm and scorn which his pupil unsparingly pours upon it.