A word of consolation on the death of Emperor Valentinian the Younger

The funeral speech “A word of consolation on the death of Emperor Valentinian the Younger” was delivered by St. Ambrose of Milan at the burial of Emperor Valentinian II in Milan in 392. St. Ambrose praises the virtues of the deceased emperor and together expresses sorrow that he did not have time to receive holy baptism, although he repeatedly expressed such a desire. However, the saint hopes for God's mercy and compares Valentinian, who was killed for his country, with the Christian martyrs who were baptized in their own blood. Therefore, he boldly prays: “So, grant, O heavenly Father... to Thy servant Valentinian the gift that he desired, which he demanded, being healthy and strong... He was not afraid of not pleasing people, so as to please You alone in Christ: for having Thy spirit, has he not also received Thy grace?..” And then he says: “Unbaptized martyrs... are washed with their blood, but this one has cleansed himself by their pious deeds and will. I pray to You, Lord, unite him with his brother and do not destroy the pious union of their kinship.” *The title of the work in Latin is De obitu Valentiniani. Although writing about what we regret only increases suffering, but since the spirit most often finds peace in the memory of a lost thing (for when we write, we direct thought and attention to it, and then it seems to come to life in our words), we decided to write about the death of the younger Valentinian, so that because of our silence it would not appear that we had consigned to oblivion this pledge that benefited us, and the memory of him disrespectfully left, avoiding the opportunity to express condolences, and especially since the person giving condolences is consoled by his own regret, and when I talk about him or to him, then it is as if I am speaking about the future or to the future. So, what will I mourn first? What is the first thing to bitterly regret? The days of our desires turned into tears: Valentinian returned to us not as expected, he fulfilled his promise by death itself, but his desired presence became very sad for us. Oh, if only he were still absent and alive! But, having heard that the Alpine mountains of Italy were besieged by the enemy, he wished better to be in poverty himself, leaving Gaul, than not to be with us when we are in danger. The emperor made a mistake when he wanted to help the Roman Empire! This guilt in death is worthy of praise. Let us shed tears in recompense to the good Sovereign, for he paid us with his death. But there is no need to call for crying here. Everyone mourns Valentinian, the unknown and the fearful cry, the forced and the barbarians cry, and those who seemed to be enemies also cry. How many groans did he provoke the peoples from Gaul to our places? For everyone mourns him not as an emperor, but as a common father, regretting his death as if it were their own. We have lost an emperor, for whom our condolences are multiplied all the more because he was not mature in years, but wise in advice. Therefore, as the prophet says: “My eye overflows with water, for the comforter who would revive my soul is far from me” (Lamentations 1:16) not only my physical, but also my mental eyes became dull, and all my feelings were covered with a kind of blindness, since I lost the one who converted my soul and encouraged my soul in great despair and filled me with hope. “Listen, all nations, and look at my illness: my virgins and my youths have gone into captivity” (Lamentations 1:18), but the enemy, having learned that they were Valentinians, released them free. The barbarian fought with the young emperor and, having forgotten about his victory, remembered only his respect for him. He voluntarily released the prisoners, apologizing for not knowing that they were Italians. We were still preparing to build a wall on the Alpine mountains, but Valentinian, without any barriers, without river streams and snowy mountains, having overcome everything, covered us with the shelter of his empire. So, it seems to me that I should use here the beginning of prophetic lamentation, for Italy, which was once joyful, is now filled with sadness? “He weeps bitterly at night, and his tears are on his cheeks. He has no comforter among all those who loved him; all his friends betrayed him and became his enemies” (Lamentations 1:2). Just as it is said about Jerusalem: “it weeps bitterly at night,” so our Jerusalem, that is, the Church cries at night: because the one who through his faith and piety gave it radiance has passed away. For indeed he weeps bitterly at night, and his tears are on his cheeks. A face flooded with tears testifies to great weeping, but since it is written: “his cheeks are a fragrant flower garden, ridges of fragrant plants; his lips are lilies, exuding flowing myrrh” (Cant 5, 13), then of course here is the mysterious grace of the weeping Church, which at the death of Valentinian pours out the fragrant aromas of her condolences, glorifying his virtuous life. Death could not harm him, because the fragrance of public praise destroyed all the stench of death. So, the Church mourns her pledge, and her tears are on her cheeks. But listen to the cheeks: “To the one who struck you,” it is said, “turn the other cheek also” (Luke 6:29). For she is patient in illness, so that the one who beats her comes to repentance. The Church was hit on the cheek when it lost Gratian, and gave another blow when Valentinian was taken from it. There are truly tears not on one cheek, but on both, for she piously mourns two sovereigns. The Church is crying, and her cheeks are replete with tears, like some streams of piety. What kind of cheeks does the Church have, about which Scripture speaks elsewhere: “your cheeks are like halves of a pomegranate apple”? (Song 6, 7) On these cheeks shine modesty and beauty, which are a sign of either young blooming years or perfect age. Why is it that in the death of faithful emperors there is, as it were, a certain shame for the Church, and in their such untimely death all its beauty is sad and deplorable. The Church weeps in her wise men, who are like her head: “the wise man’s eye is in his head” (Eccl. 2:14). She cries in her eyes, that is, in her faithful ones, for it is written: “Your eyes are like a dove under your curls” (Song 4:1) 1, for they see with the spirit, and know how to remain silent about the mysteries they see. She cries among her priests, who are like her cheeks with Aaron’s beard, that is, a priest’s beard, onto which the ointment comes from the head. They represent the beauty, pleasant color and perfect age of the Church, which with their bodily abstinence on the outside wears the color and beauty of pomegranates, but inside with spiritual wisdom they warm the people entrusted to them of different ages and sexes, and although they are subject to the insults of this age, they share the sacraments. She cries in her virgins, who, like lilies full of myrrh, are adorned with the color of purity and the glory of victory over bodily charms. For in them the Church weeps, as it is written: “The ways of Zion mourn, ... her priests sigh, her maidens are sad, she herself is bitter” (Pl. 1:4). And although deep down he is upset, he says to Valentinian: “I would lead you, I would bring you to my mother’s house. You would teach me, and I would give you aromatic wine, the juice of my pomegranates” (Song 8:2), that is, from the fragrant wine, from the water of the apples, he would drink “wine that gladdens the heart of a man” (Ps 103:15) and may the juice of pomegranates descend on him. For the words of many feelings, collected from different scriptures, the words of angels, the words of the apostles and prophets, which are intertwined, as it were, into a single skin of the Holy Church, are the incense of pomegranate apples. Valentinian, seeing all this filled with grace, replies: “By the mercy of the Lord, we did not disappear, for His heart was not exhausted” (Lamentations 3:22). My groans are many, and my heart is dry. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul; therefore will I trust in Him. The Lord is good to those who trust in Him, to the soul that seeks Him. It is good for him who patiently waits for salvation from the Lord. It is good for a man when he bears the yoke in his youth; He sits alone and is silent, for He has placed it on him” (Lamentations 3:24–28). Valentinian is consoled by the reward of his virtues, for in his youth he took on many labors and experienced many disasters: he would rather bear the heavy yoke of correction than think about tenderness and amusements. Blessed is he who corrects his sins in old age, and blessed is he who, even at the end of his life, turns his spirit away from vice: “Blessed is he whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered” (Ps 31:1), because it is written: “Turn away from evil and do good; seek peace and follow it” (Ps 33:15). Therefore, whoever abandons sin and turns to something better at whatever age, his former iniquities will be forgiven if he repents of them or, having corrected himself, hates them. But he deserves forgiveness with many, for many in old age could abandon their iniquities and the slippery path of youth, but rarely did anyone in their youth bear the heavy yoke with proper sobriety. The Lord speaks about this yoke in the Gospel: “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest; take My yoke upon you” (Matthew 11:28–29). For whoever, without burdening himself with the heavy burden of sin, bears the yoke in his youth, has a special portion, he should not be compared with many, but only with the one who can say about himself: “For you, Lord, alone allow me to live in safety” (Ps 4:9). But maybe someone will say why Jeremiah mentions the heavy yoke, when in the Gospel the Lord himself says: “My yoke is easy and My burden is light” (Matthew 11:30). Firstly, you need to know that in the Greek original only the yoke is written, and not a heavy one is attributed. But it should also be noted that although it was written like this in Jeremiah’s lamentation, the Gospel says: a good yoke and a light burden, not a light yoke. Because the yoke of the word can be hard, but at the same time it is good: it can be hard for a young man who, in the prime of his years, does not want to subjugate his spirit to the yoke of the word. This yoke may seem heavy because of the severity of the doctrine, correction and abstinence of lust, but it can be good because of the fruit of grace, because of the hope of eternal reward and because of the sweetness that comes from a clear conscience. The yoke of the word is called good, but the burden of obedience is called light, since whoever patiently bears the yoke of the word, the burden of teaching cannot be burdensome. Therefore, whoever bears the yoke from a young age will sit alone and remain silent, rejoicing that the eternal mysteries of Divine reward have been revealed to him. And he will truly remain silent, having no need to excuse himself for sin, when he has already warned this with timely confession and zealous correction. For such a one will not be told: “What you did not gather in your youth, how can you acquire it in your old age?” (Sir 25:5). This can also be understood in this way: whoever bears the yoke of the word early, that is, from a young age, will not communicate with young men, but will sit alone and remain silent until he is filled with the perfection of virtue, and will be clothed in great patience: he will offer his cheek to the beating, despising the offense of beating, in order in this way to obey the heavenly commands. It is a great thing either to abstain from the vices of youth, or from the very beginning, leaving it behind, to turn to what is most important. For the paths of youth are uncertain, as Solomon says: “Three things are incomprehensible to me, and four I do not understand: the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a serpent on a rock, the way of a ship in the midst of the sea, and the way of a man to a maiden” (Proverbs 30:18-19). David says: “Do not remember the sins of my youth and my crimes” (Ps 24:7), for a young man not only falls due to the instability of his years, but also often sins out of ignorance of heavenly commands, but he who sins out of ignorance soon deserves forgiveness. Why does the prophet say: do not remember the sins of my youth and my crimes, and does not say: the sin of my old age and my knowledge do not remember, but like a prophet who soon corrected the sins of his youth, he mentions his age and ignorance. Also, Valentinian, like a prophet, spoke about sin: do not remember the sins of my youth and my crimes, and not only spoke, but before he experienced any fall, he corrected sin and error. Why does he exclaim: do not remember the correction of my youth. Many sin, but few are corrected. What can I say about Valentinian’s other actions, when he refrained from the most childish games, conquered the willfulness of his shaky years, considered it good to reduce public severity, and make leniency for the elderly if accused of any crime. At first they said about him that he loved the Kirken games, but on the contrary, he despised them so much that even on the birthdays of nobles, and even in honor of the emperor, he did not order them to be presented. Some said about him that he loved to practice catching animals, and in this way he seemed to distract his thoughts from public affairs: Valentinian, having heard about this, immediately ordered to kill all his animals. In the courts he heard cases in such a way that when the oldest men had doubts or were carried away by partiality, Valentinian, as a youth, in the spirit of Daniel, made a fair and mature decision. Hearing that envious people were gossiping about his habit of having dinner early, he took upon himself such a post that, while arranging ceremonial feasts for his nobles, he himself, for the most part, ate nothing, in order to thus satisfy both the holy faith and good morals befitting the Emperor. Having discovered that young men in Rome were attracted by the beauty of a certain comedian, he immediately ordered her to be brought to trial. But since the messenger was gifted with money and returned without fulfilling the order, he sent another, so that it would not seem that, although he wanted to correct the vices of the young men, he was unable to achieve this. In this case, some showed envy and slander, but Valentinian never looked at this woman, either in comedy or in private. After that, he ordered her to be returned, so that everyone would know that his order was not in vain, and to teach the young men abstinence in love for a woman whom he despised, although he had her in his power. And he did all this without yet having a wife, and showed chastity, as if already bound by marriage. Who is the master of his servant to the extent that he has mastery over his own body? Who can be such a judge of others as he was at his age? What can I say about his piety? When it was reported to him that some noble and rich people were convicted of malicious intent on his throne, then he said to this that no bloodshed should be allowed on holy days. And when, after several days, he discovered slander in the informer’s note, he immediately ordered the accused to be released. Before and after that, during the reign of this young emperor, no one was afraid of being slandered in such a crime. He laughed at the fact that the strong feared emperors. When the pagans demanded the restoration of their sacred rights, to which all Christians agreed, then Valentinian, like Daniel, aroused the Spirit of God in himself and alone convicted the Christians of treachery, and in objection to the pagans said: what my pious brother took from you, how can I return it to you? For this would offend both faith and brother, below whom in piety I do not want to be. When they began to set his father as an example to him, claiming that in his time no one took away any advantages, then he answered them: you praise my father for the fact that he did not take away, but I did not take away either. Tell me what my parent returned, so that I can also return him, following his example? But even though my parent returned it, my brother took it away: in this case, I would rather follow the latter. My parent was an emperor, and my brother was also an emperor: both are entitled to equal respect, both have equal benefits in the republic. Therefore, I will follow both, I will not give away what my father could not give, for no one took it away, and I will also preserve what my brother laid down. Let Rome demand something else from me, I value love for my parent, but I value more obedience to the author of salvation. What can I say about his love for his subjects or his subjects for him? When, he said, they cannot pay for the old, can they bear the new? The provinces praise Julian for this, but he did this at an advanced age, and this at the beginning of his youth. Julian, having found a lot, exhausted everything, but this one, having received nothing, abounded in everything. Being on the other side of the Alpine Mountains, when I heard that the barbarians were approaching the borders of Italy and, fearing that a foreign enemy would attack the state, he hurried to return, taking upon himself our danger and leaving peace. I have all this in common with others, and especially the fact that he often remembered me when I was absent and most of all sought to receive the sacred sacraments from me. And when the rumor spread in Vienna that I had gone there to invite him to Italy, how he rejoiced and congratulated himself when he learned that I would be present at his request! My delay seemed long to him, and oh, would that not a single messenger had previously notified him of his coming! I already promised the mayor and other respectable people to go, imagining that although due to modesty I cannot interfere in extraneous affairs, I will not fail to think about the peace of Italy and help in needs. This had already been decided, when the next morning a letter was received about the establishment of apartments, how royal decorations and many other things were brought that spoke of the arrival of the emperor. For this reason, the embassy was cancelled. I blamed myself for the fact that you expected my presence, but I did not fulfill your desire; oh, if only I were guilty of this before you while still alive! I would not have thought that I would not have heard about your misfortunes then, would not have received letters, would not have been able to go to meet you on my animals, even though I had set out on the road. But while I, being confident of forgiveness, hesitated, I received another letter telling me to hurry up immediately, for you wanted to have me as a guarantee for yourself from your nobleman. And then did I hesitate? Even to such an extent that in order to speed up my arrival, I did not consider the council of Gallic bishops as the reason for my journey, because of whose disagreements I often refused, but assumed that this was necessary for your baptism. When we left, I could have already seen signs of what had happened, but because of my haste, I didn’t notice anything. I was already approaching the Alpine Mountains when I heard sad news for me and for everyone about the death of the emperor. I returned back and wet the path with my tears. I went at the request of everyone, but I returned with the groans of everyone, for everyone thought that they had lost not the emperor, but their salvation. I myself was overwhelmed with indescribable sadness over the death of such a great emperor, my longed-for guarantee, who before his death so much wanted to see me. I found out how hot he was in those two days in which he, while still alive, sent a letter to me. In the evening a messenger was sent to me, and on the third day in the morning he asked if he had left and if I had arrived? From this it is clear that he thought to receive some kind of salvation from me. Oh, if only I, handsome young man, could catch you still alive! Oh that any delay would delay you until my coming! I did not expect much from my virtue, reason or wisdom, but I would try with all my might to restore harmony and friendship between you and your nobleman; I myself would have vouched for your loyalty, I would have taken into my care those whom he feared, and if he had not agreed, then I would have stayed with you. I hoped that you would listen to me yourself, if others would not listen to me defending your side. I had a lot that I could have received, but now I have nothing but crying and tears: every day my condolences for you multiply, my sighs multiply. Everyone testifies to how deeply you revered me, everyone attributes your death to my absence. But I am not Elijah, not a prophet, so that I can know the future, but a voice crying with groans, with which I can mourn the past. I can do nothing more than repay you with tears for your love for me. I received you little when I was traveling as an ambassador to your enemy, I embraced you, entrusted to me by my mother’s hands: I again traveled from you as an ambassador to Gaul, and this position was pleasant to me both for maintaining your health and because of the peace and piety with which you demanded the remains of my brother, although at that time you were not yet safe, but you were concerned about giving the honor of burial to your brother. But let us return to the prophetic cry and delve into the very essence of the disease. “What,” says the prophet, “should I tell you, with what can I compare you, daughter of Jerusalem? What can I compare you with, so that I can comfort you, O virgin, daughter of Zion? For your wound is as great as the sea; who can heal you?” (Lamentations 2:13). Who will console me, from whom do others demand the service of consolation? “He filled me with bitterness, he gave me wormwood to drink” (Lamentations 3:15). “My womb! my womb! I grieve in the depths of my heart” (Jer 4:19), according to the prophet, for I have lost one who was born in the Gospel. But he did not lose the grace that was demanded by the one who was resurrected today in my speech to the people. For reading that a poor people blesses God, I decided to ask myself who this people are, and to divide the people into rich and poor: the rich people are the Jewish people, and the poor people are the people of the Church: this one is rich in the sayings entrusted to him, and this one is poor in borrowing other people’s sayings. And truly poor, for he was gathered from the poor, who, being rich, became poor, so that we through his poverty might become rich: he exhausted himself in order to make us abundant. But is he poor who had the riches of eternity and the perfection of grace? Who, being in the flesh, said: “From now on you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of power” (Matthew 26:64). And in another place he says to Peter: “I will give you the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven” (Matthew 16:19). Is he poor who gave the Kingdom of Heaven? But listen to how poor he is: “Take,” he exclaims, “My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for .. I am meek and lowly in heart” (Matthew 11:29). Why are his people poor, not due to any lack, for I see them richer than those rich people, when I consider that they were worthy to have not only prophetic sayings, but also apostolic traditions, inspired by the Spirit of God. So, it is not through any lack that one is poor, but one who is poor in spirit, about whom it is said: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3). Truly, blessed are the poor, for they have received what the rich did not have. From their number is that prophetic beggar about whom it is written: “This beggar cried, and the Lord heard” (Ps 33:7). From this people comes the one who said: “I have no silver and gold; But what I have, this I give to you: in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, arise and walk” (Acts 3:6). This beggar - the culprit of the wretched people - says: “God of my praise! do not remain silent, for wicked lips and deceitful lips have been opened against me; They speak to me with a lying tongue; They surround me with words of hatred from everywhere, they take up arms against me for no reason. For my love they fight against me, but I pray” (Ps 109:1-4). Prayer is a good shield that drives away all the fiery arrows of the evil one. The Lord Jesus prayed, and Valentinian was His imitator. But maybe someone will say: what benefit did prayer bring him? He died early in his life. But I am talking here about imminent death, and not about its kind: for I am using the voice not of accusation, but of regret. The Lord prayed and was crucified, for he prayed to destroy the sin of the world. Let us listen to what Christ’s disciple is praying for: of course, about what the teacher commanded. He commanded that we watch and pray, lest we fall into temptation, that is, lest we fall into sin. The temptation of a Christian, when he is touched by the misfortune of his soul, to fear death is not perfection. We must ask for our enemies themselves and pray for those who persecute us, as the Lord prayed, exclaiming: “Father! forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). See great mercy here. People persecuted their Creator, but He forgave them the most serious sins and also excused them by ignorance, saying: for they do not know what they are doing. For if they had known, they would not have dared to persecute their Lord and would have seen their salvation in His power. The persecutors of Christ were not dissatisfied with His killing, but also used blasphemy and slander, as He Himself says: “They curse, but You bless” (Ps 108:28). By this he taught us not to be afraid of the slander of those who persecute us, for we have the author of blessing, he taught us not to be upset by curses, having a Bishop who can remove every curse from us. Valentinian was not afraid of death, but he blamed himself most of all, saying that it was unfair to expose the innocent to envy, it was unfair for others to suffer for him. He wished more for himself to die, so that he himself would not be the cause of the death of others. This is similar to the Gospel word of the Lord: “So if you seek Me, leave them alone, let them come” (John 18:8). And so he died for everyone he loved, and on this occasion his friends were unhappy that they could not all die for him. We saw how kindly he was towards his friends: now let’s see how much he loved his sisters’ relatives. They were the consolation of his spirit and the calm of his heart. He asked them that if, in his youth, he irritated them with any word, they would forgive him and pray to the Lord God to forgive him. He kissed their hands and heads, forgetting his honor, remembering his kinship, and the more he surpassed others in power, the more humbly he showed himself before his sisters. He asked them not to remember the insults, but to remember only the favor. He happened to listen to some matter about their estate: for they did not doubt his justice and the reasoning of the sisters themselves, although he had a tendency to sanctify holy needs, he dissolved his love with justice. The issue was not about rights, but about ownership of a share of the inheritance. And so then love for his sisters and mercy for the orphan fought in him; however, he interceded with the sisters themselves for the orphaned man. The case was sent to a public judge, so as not to sin against his law or violate his piety. From the intention of the noble maidens, we can notice that Valentinian inspired them to act piously, that is, to agree to give up their share. Truly, worthy sisters of such a brother: for they would rather give up what their mother left behind than to cause shame to their brother in their matter. This is for you, holy souls, a precious inheritance of fraternal praise and glory. By this your pious brother made you noblest and richest, who burdened your head not with precious stones, but with kisses. He did not so much decorate your hands with royal signs as kiss them with his imperial lips. In your presence he found his consolation, and for this reason he postponed marriage, because most of all he rejoiced at your love. This should be more of a desire to you than a sorrow, its glory should calm your thoughts more than fill you with lamentation and crying. Often tears themselves console and ease the mind; often crying calms the heart and sad spirit. You stand before the sorrowful tomb, but Saint Mary also stood at the cross of her Son, and the Virgin beheld the suffering of her only begotten. She stood, but did not shed tears. Why did the Son say to her: “Woman! Behold, Your son. Then he says to the disciple, “Behold, your mother” (John 19:26–27), leaving him an inheritance of her love and grace. In this case, I, pious pledges, wish to show you fatherly love, if I am not worthy of saving your brother for my sins. Now I see him in you and think that it is as if he is standing before me with his brother, and both of them, like eyes, have been taken away from me. Emperors are more successful in persecuting bishops than in loving them. Weren't Maxim's threats better than mine? In his hatred lay praise, but in their love there was a legacy of sorrow. Oh, if only I, my children, could give up my ghost for you! This would have shortened my illness, and it would have been better for me to die. But I turn to your consolation, holy daughters, although this deplorable incident destroys all the power of consolation - consolation that, if short, will not calm the mourning spirit, but if long, then condolences will take longer to take effect. For the more you console, the longer you will grieve the person being consoled and prolong his illness. So, this speech of mine will not wipe away your tears. Pious hearts delight in crying itself, and their serious illness comes out in tears. Therefore, I only pray to you that with your crying and groans you do not turn away the brother who is in your heart, or disturb his rest. Let him live in your heart, be in your arms, kiss you, and be always before your eyes in your conversations and thoughts: now you have nothing to fear when talking about him, as before. Forget his misfortune, remember his virtue. Expect help from him with hope; at night may he stand before you as a bishop, and may not even sleep separate you from him. For his sake, may your peace be sweet. It is in your power that your brother will never be kidnapped from you. But you want to have his body: and so, having surrounded it, hold the coffin! Let this coffin be your home, let it be a chamber in which your beloved members rest. But you see the misfortune that he left this life so early. I also recognize the untimeliness of his death and would like him to take a few of our years when he could not continue his own. But I ask: does any feeling remain after death or not? If he remains, then he is alive and enjoys eternal life. It is as if the one whose soul lives and is united again with the body has no feeling, just as the apostle exclaims: “I do not want to leave you, brothers, in ignorance about the dead, so that you do not grieve like others who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, then God will bring with Him those who sleep in Jesus” (1 Thessalonians 4:13–14). So life awaits those who await resurrection. If the pagans, who have no hope of the resurrection, are consoled only by the imagination that after death there will be no feeling, much more should we accept the consolation, since we are not supposed to fear death, for this is the end of sins, when we should not despair about the life that the resurrection restores. Job teaches that the pious do not fear death, but rather they should desire it, saying: “Oh, that You would hide me in the underworld and cover me until Your wrath had passed, that you would set a time for me and then remember me! When a person dies, will he live again? On all the days of my appointed time, I would wait for my replacement to come. You would call, and I would answer You, and You would show favor to the work of Your hands” (Job 14:13-15). Let us assume that we should sympathize with his death at an early age; however, it is appropriate to rejoice, since he died wise in virtue. For his life was so good in his shaky early years, his morals were so commendable, that this should erase all memory of sorrows. The fact that he died early is a sign of ill health, but the fact that he was like that is worthy of surprise. How blessed would the republic be if it could preserve it longer! But since the life of the saints is not here on earth, but in heaven (for for me life is Christ, and death is gain. “I am attracted by both: I have a desire to be resolved and to be with Christ, because this is incomparably better” (Phil. 1:23)), then one must regret his imminent death, but be consoled by the fact that he has moved on to something better. David wept for one of his sons, who was about to die, but he no longer regretted the dead one. He cried, afraid of losing him, but he stopped crying for the deceased, for he knew that he was already with Christ. This holy man wept when his unchaste son Amnon was killed, and regretted the murderer Absalom, saying: “My son Absalom, my son Absalom!” (2 Kings 18:33). You see that he did not want to mourn his blameless son, for he thought that they died for their iniquity, but this one would live for his integrity. So, there is no reason to grieve for a brother: a person is born and subject to human corruption. No one can redeem himself from death - neither the rich, nor the kings themselves, and these latter are subject to even better things. Job said: “A number of years are hidden from the oppressor. The sound of horrors is in his ears; in the midst of the world the destroyer comes against him” (Job 15:20-21). Therefore, you too must bear this burden patiently: for you share it with the saints themselves. David lost his children, but he wished they could die the way your brother died: David regretted their iniquities, and not their death. It’s impossible, you say, not to cry and moan, but how long will the crying last? Two months later you were hugging your brother’s coffin every day. In Scripture, one of Jepha’s daughters demanded time to mourn herself when her father, going to battle, promised to bring to the Lord what he would first find upon his return to the house. After the victory, this daughter of his came out to meet him on his return, not knowing about his promise. The father, seeing her, sighed, saying: “Oh, my daughter! you struck me down; and you are among the disturbers of my peace! I have opened my mouth for you before the Lord, and I cannot deny. She said to him: my father, you have opened your mouth to the Lord, and do to me what your mouth has spoken... And she said to her father: just do this to me: let me go for two months; I will go and ascend the mountains and mourn my virginity with my friends” (Judges 11:35-37). So, after two months, she returned and fulfilled the duty of sacrifice: and the people of Israel decreed that the women should gather together four days a year to mourn her death. The daughter of Jephaah considered it sufficient to mourn for two months the flower of her maidenhood, but with you all the nations mourned, all the provinces sighed, and do you still consider this insufficient? Even if you could redeem your brother with your contrition, he would not want to be resurrected, for he thought that it was better for him to live in you, which is why he wished for himself death rather than to see you in misfortune, and on the very day of his death he said: woe to my poor sisters! You see that he condoled more about your deprivation than about his death. You regret, as I hear, that he was not worthy of the sacrament of baptism. But tell me, what in this case can there be more in us, except one will and desire? He had long wanted to be baptized before arriving in Italy, and he recently repeated this desire, wanting to be baptized by me, and for this purpose he especially decided to call me. So, did he not receive the grace that he desired and demanded? Of course I did. For it is not in vain that it is written: “But the righteous, even if he dies early, will be at peace” (Wis. 4:7). So, reward, heavenly Father, to Your servant the gift received from Moses by the sight of the spirit, the gift that David was awarded through the knowledge of revelation. Give, I say, to Your servant Valentinian the gift that he desired, which he demanded, being healthy and strong. If he had made this omission while being overcome by illness, then he would not have been completely alien to Your mercy, because he would have been deceived by the transience of time, and not by will. Give to Your servant the gift of Your grace, which he never denied, and the day before his death he refused to return the benefits of the pagan temples. Many pagans stood, and the Senate itself asked: but he was not afraid of not pleasing people, so as to please You alone in Christ: for having Your spirit, has he not also received Your grace? But what also confuses you is that the celebration of the sacrament was not solemn; therefore, unbaptized martyrs would not be crowned, but they are washed with their blood, but this one purified himself by his pious deeds and will. I pray to You, Lord, unite him with his brother and do not destroy the pious union of their kinship. Gratian, avenged by your righteous judgment, will still suffer if he is not worthy to be with the brother who avenged him. Now, heavenly Father, he stretches out his hands to You, pours out prayers for his brother, hugs him, not wanting to be separated. There is also a father who, during the reign of Julian, despised the dignity of a tribune for his faith. Return his son to his father, his half-brother to his brother, he imitated both: one in faith, and the other in piety and piety, denying the advantages of pagan temples; What the father lacked, he added, but he kept what his brother had provided. But does the one who, in my opinion, deserves the reward, require petitions? We will give his soul the holy sacraments, we will wish him peace, we will give him the heavenly sacraments, we will accompany his soul with our sacrifices. You nations, “lift up your hands to the sanctuary” (Ps 133:2), so that at least with this debt you can pay for its services. I will not strew his tomb with flowers, but I will pour the fragrance of Christ on his spirit. Let others decorate him with lilies, but for us the lily is Christ, through Him I will consecrate his remains, through Him I will praise his virtue, I will not share the names of pious brothers, I will not share their merits. I am sure that this memory will appease the Lord, and this union will be pleasant to him. Let no one think that their virtues have diminished because of their early death. Enoch is delighted, let not malice change his heart. Josiah, in the eighteenth year of his reign, celebrated the Passover of the Lord so much that he surpassed all previous kings in his piety, but because of his faith he did not live longer; but, since the Jewish people were facing a grave death, the righteous king was first raptured. Why should I be afraid: was it not for the sake of some sin of ours that you were taken away from us, so that in the eighteenth year of your reign, as a righteous person, you could escape the cruelty of the coming evil? But it’s time to embrace my beloved corpse and put it to the grave. My Valentinian, my beloved, white and rosy, have in you the image of Christ! With these words the Church calls out to Christ in songs. And do not consider this an insult: for slaves are marked with the sign of the Lord, while warriors are sealed with the name of the emperor. The Lord Himself says: “Touch not My anointed” (Ps 104:15). “You are the light of the world” (Mt 5:14). And Jacob said: “Judas! Your brothers will praise you" (Genesis 49:8). With these words he addressed his son and thereby revealed the Lord. About Joseph he said: “Joseph is the son returned, my zealous son is returned” (Gen. 49:22) and by this he meant Christ 2.. Why is it possible for me to imprint a servant with the sign of the Lord: “my beloved is white and ruddy, chosen from those” (Song. 5, 10.) 3 .. My son was chosen when, after the death of his father at a young age, he was demanded to take over the kingdom. “His head is pure gold; ...his eyes are like doves by streams of water” (Song 5, 11, 12). “We sat there and wept” (Ps 136:1), said those who came from there. “His belly is like an ivory image” (Song 5:14), may he accept the words of the Scriptures and be able to say: “My womb! my womb! I grieve in the depths of my heart” (Jer 4:19), as the prophet exclaimed. For this is what the imitator of Christ says. “His cheeks are like a fragrant flower bed, beds of fragrant plants” (Song 5:13). His lips are lilies, exuding flowing myrrh; his hands are golden round timbers, set with topazes (Song 3, 13-14.) For truth shone in his words, charity and love for mankind shone in his deeds, his conversations were filled with virtue and royal importance, his constancy did not bow to the fear of death itself, the correction of morals and deeds was incessant: for every good worker is the hand of Christ. “His lips are sweetness, and all he is is kindness” (Song 5:16). How sweet his reasoning was to everyone! With what pleasure they retell his conversations! How many people regret you, child! The last words with which you demanded that I be your guarantee are imprinted in my memory; with them you left a good and glorious testimony about me. I could not show you the fidelity that I had prepared, but I vouched for you in absentia, and Christ heard me vouching for you. My promise is known in heaven, although unknown on earth; I committed myself to God, although I could not commit myself to people. I spoke about your body, now I will talk with your soul, worthy of prophetic adornments. Why do I use the same words: “Who is this shining like the dawn, beautiful like the moon, bright like the sun?” (Song 6, 10). It seems to me that I see you shining and saying: “The night is past and the day is near” (Rom 13:12). And so your holy soul looks at us with concern from above. You have come out of the darkness of this age and you shine like the moon, you shine like the sun; and rightly I said, like the moon: for although previously in the shadow of this body you shone and illuminated the darkness of the earth, but now, borrowing light from the sun of righteousness, you illuminate our days. Why does it seem to me that I see you leaving your body and, having driven away the darkness of the night, rising early, both like the sun approaching God, and like an eagle, swiftly soaring and leaving earthly things. “Look around, look around, Shulamite; look around, look around, and we will look at you” (Song 7:1). Turn to us in peace and show your glory to your sisters, so that they begin to rejoice in your peace and grace. Turn at least once and hasten with all your thoughts to the city of saints, Jerusalem. And truly, Christ, speaking this to the pious soul, commands her to turn for a while so that her glory and future rest with the saints may appear to us, and then commands her to hasten to the highest community of saints. “Why should you look at the Shulamite as at the round dance of Manaim” (Song 7, 1), that is, at one who fought against many in the body. For she fought against external enemies, fought against the deceptive changes of the century, fought against the weaknesses of the body and many different passions. Having heard from the Lord: look around, Shulamite, she once turned to the world, turned through the repetition of communion to the grace of Christ, and therefore her conversion is wonderful, her groans and ascent to heaven are beautiful. Why is it worthy to hear: “How beautiful are your feet in sandals, eminent daughter!” (Song 7:2), that is, O king’s daughter: for she had beautiful feet, which she used without putting on shoes, although she covered them, since she was exalted, she directed her feet wherever she wanted, without any harm, or took off her shoes, as Moses did, to whom it was said: “Take off your sandals from your feet” (Exodus 3:5) So, the forefather Nadab, the leader of the people, exclaims, turning to you: “Hear, daughter, and see... And the King will desire your beauty” (Ps 45:11-12). “How beautiful are your feet in sandals, eminent daughter! The rounding of your hips is like a necklace” (Song 7:2), that is, your constant complacency and moderation in affairs are equal to great triumphs. Because of your moderation and peacefulness, Gaul was not burdened by the enemy, and Italy drove away her enemy who was approaching her borders. After all, there is no doubt that the golden chain is a reward for victory: for it is given to those who fought bravely in war. “Your belly is a round cup in which the fragrant wine does not run dry; Your belly is like a heap of wheat, surrounded by lilies, Your neck is like a pillar of ivory; your eyes are the lakes of Heshbon" (Song 7:3-5) The excellent navel of the soul, which receives all the virtues, like a cup filled with the author of the faith himself, for wisdom dissolved her wine in the cup, saying: “Come, eat my bread, and drink the wine that I have dissolved” (Proverbs 9:5). For this navel, adorned with virtues, is filled with all dissolution. His belly was also not only filled with truth, like wheat, but abounded, like a lily, with pleasantness. His neck was subdued to the yoke of Christ. His head was crowned with the blood of the Lord more than with royal diadems. Therefore, rightly, as the king and conqueror of sin, he ascends in the heavenly crown, and God speaks the word to his soul: “thou art adorned, and thou art delighted in thy sweetness” (Song 7:7). She was adorned with the beauty of virtue, and delighted with grace. Tall as a palm tree, which is the reward of the conqueror. Gratian comes towards this rising soul and, embracing him, says to her: “I belong to my friend, and his desire is directed towards me” (Song 7, 11). Either wanting to be with him, or as an intercessor standing before him, out of love for his brother, he exclaims that his conversion should be preferred to his grace itself. “Come,” he says, “my beloved, and let’s go out into the field, let’s stay in the villages; In the morning let’s go to the vineyards” (Song 7:12-13), that is, you have come to where the fruits of various virtues are distributed, where rewards abound. Let’s go out into the field, where labor is not in vain, but brings the fruits of grace. What you sow on earth, reap here; what you squandered there, gather here. Let’s go out. in the field where the fragrance of Jacob is, - that is, come to the bosom of Jacob, and like poor Lazarus in Abraham’s bosom, so you will rest in the abode of the forefather Jacob, for the bosom of the forefathers is a dwelling of eternal rest. For it is true that Jacob is a fruitful field, as the forefather Isaac testified with the following words: “Behold, the smell is from my son, like the smell of a field that the Lord has blessed” (Genesis 27:27). “Let us stay,” he says, “in the villages” (Song 7:12) - showing that there is peace there, not disturbed by the attacks of the century. “At our doors,” he says, “are all kinds of excellent fruits, new and old: this I have stored up for you, my beloved” (Song 7:14). “Oh, that you were my brother, who suckled my mother’s breasts! Then, when I met you on the street, I would kiss you, and I would not be judged. I would lead you, I would bring you to my mother’s house. You would teach me, and I would give you aromatic wine, the juice of my pomegranate apples. His left hand is under my head, and his right embraces me” (Song 8:1-3). Gratian promises his brother that he will have the fruits of various virtues: because he was faithful to the Lord, pious, meek, sincere and chaste in body. And for this purpose he has prepared and nearby fruits at the door of his dwelling. He offers his brother that he has preserved the new fruits and the old, that is, he has preserved the sacraments of the Old Testament and the New, and says: Oh, that you were my brother, who suckled my mother’s breasts! that is, it was not anyone else, but Christ himself who enlightened you with spiritual grace. He himself baptized you because there was a lack of human service. Having lost little, you received more. What breasts does the Church have if not the sacrament of baptism? And it is well said: suckling, as if about one who, having been baptized, seeks milk. Having met you on the street, she exclaims, I would kiss you, that is, having found you outside the body, I embrace you with the kiss of the mysterious world. No one will despise you or humiliate you; I will lead you into the chambers of Mother Church and into the chambers of the sacraments, so that you can drink the cup of spiritual grace. So, hugging his brother, he leads him to his abode and, passing further, ascends, asking that their love may increase: for there was no envy and self-love in them - vices that usually violate the rights of brotherly love in many. Seeing them, angels and other souls accompany and question them, saying: “Who is this who rises from the desert, leaning on his beloved? (Song 8:5). Let us not doubt the virtue of Valentinian. Let us be assured by the testimony of the angels that, having washed away the filth of sin, he ascends to what is above, that faith has purified him and desire has sanctified him. Let us hope that he, ascending from the desert, that is, from this dry and uninhabited place to those heavenly amusements, enjoys eternal life with his brother. Blessed am I if my prayers help anything. Not a single day will pass without remembering you, in every prayer I will not leave you forgotten, every night I will not fail to pray for you, I will make a sacrifice for you. Who will forbid bringing praise to them? Who will forbid the commemoration of even the most blameless? “If I forget you, Jerusalem, that is, you, holy soul, you, pious and peace-loving two, forget me, my right hand; stick my tongue to my throat, if I do not remember you, if I do not put Jerusalem at the head of my joy” (Ps 137:5-6). I would rather forget myself than you, and if when the word falls silent, then zeal will speak, although the voice will fall silent, but the love nesting in my heart will not dry out. We are amazed at how the strong fell, how they both fell on those Babylonian rivers, how the course of their lives was swifter than the river flows! You, dear children, Gratian and Valentinian, how narrow were the boundaries of life! Gratian, I say, and Valentinian! I am pleased to remember your names. You were inseparable in life, inseparable in death. The grave did not separate you, united by love and united piety. The difference of virtues did not separate you, for you were fed with one faith. Gratianov's arrow did not return, and Valentinianov's truth was not in vain, nor was his importance vain. How did the mighty fall without a fight? I sympathize with you, dear child Gratian; You showed many signs of your piety, you demanded me between your disasters, called me in your extremes and regretted more about my sadness in your reasoning. I sympathize with you too, my beautiful Valentinian: your love fell on me like the love of a pledge. You hoped to avoid disaster through me; you loved me not only as a father, but also revered me as your savior. You said: will I see my father? Your will towards me was good, but unfortunately, it was ineffective. Trust in man is in vain! But in the person of the priest you sought the Lord. I regret that I didn’t know your will before! I regret that you didn’t send it secretly before! Alas for me, who have lost such great pledges! “How the mighty have fallen, the weapons of war have perished!” (2 Kings 1:27.) Great God! no one has so much that he could give to another more than he wishes for himself; deign to preserve me after death with those who were kind to me in this life! “As You, Father, are in Me, and I in You, so may they also be one in us” (John 17:21), so that at least there we can enjoy their eternal union, since here I could no longer communicate with them. I pray to You to awaken the dear young men with a speedy resurrection and thereby reward their short life. Amen. The translator gives the following quote: your eyes are like a dove, except for your silence - ed. In Sov. Synod. first: “Joseph is a branch of a fruitful tree, a branch of a fruitful tree over a spring; its branches stretch out like a wall”: In Sov. Synod. first: “My beloved is white and ruddy, better than ten thousand others”: You might be interested in: