Книга седьмая (404–405 гг.)

Kukuz, its position and climate. – Chrysostom accepts Diaspora’s offer to stay in his house. “Deaconess Sabiniana, his aunt, comes to live with him. – The severity of winter, the suffering of an exile. – His decisive letters to the Olympics. - Chrysostom arms himself against the despondency of the Olympics. – The cruelty of separation for Chrysostom: spiritual friendship among Christians; example of the Apostle Paul. – Visits of Chrysostom in Kukuza. – Intention to re-establish the spread of Christianity in Phenicia; sending relics from Aravissa to missionaries. – The Orthodox Goths are asking for a bishop. - Deacon Moduary. – Chrysostom wants to convert Persia; successes of Christianity in this country. – Marugas’ attitude towards King Izdeger. – Marutas refuses to connect with Chrysostom. Kukuz, where Chrysostom's path lay, was a poor city, or rather a fortified place, located in the deep Taurus valley, at the intersection of roads from Cappadocia to Persia and from the Syrian provinces to Upper Armenia. As a military post, it was not without significance: a large garrison of soldiers, usually selected, kept guard here for rare travelers and local residents. It is difficult to imagine a sadder country, where one could only see here and there a few huts surrounding the house of some owner. The city was deprived of all means to provide the most necessary amenities. Sudden transitions from the severe and suffocating heat of summer to the extreme cold of winter made the climate in its valley unbearable, while winter in Cucusa began from the time snow covered the high peaks of the Taurus. The slopes of the mountains, lost in the distance, were covered with dense forest and drilled with many caves where the troglodyte people could easily settle. Among them they pointed out one cave where, under the Emperor Constantius, another Constantinople exile, Archbishop Paul, was imprisoned to death by starvation by the Arian persecutors, and where he was later killed by them, because such a death seemed to them too slow. This is the grave that evoked such ominous memories that Empress Eudoxia forced John Chrysostom to exile to. He was already approaching the city when he suddenly saw a man walking hurriedly towards him, hurrying to tell him something. It was Dioscorus, who had sent him and his servant back in Caesarea an offer to stay in his house, and now he was personally in a hurry to repeat his invitation to him. Dioscorus, a wealthy citizen of Cucusa, had a house in this city, well adapted for winter and equipped with everything that was needed for protection from the cold, and not far from the city - another house in which he intended to settle himself for the entire duration of his guest's stay. He explained all this to Chrysostom, who had already accepted his proposal in Caesarea and was diligently thanking him, when suddenly another person approached. It was a message from the bishop (no matter how small this town was, it still had its own bishop), with an offer to settle in the bishop's premises, even in the bishop's own room, in all likelihood, the only decent one for such a guest in this modest house. “I really don’t know,” Chrysostom wrote on this occasion, “whether he would have refused me both his episcopal throne and his Church - this man showed me so much kindness and hospitality.” The exile, who throughout the journey the bishops had not accustomed to such treatment, was moved to tears, but he had already promised Dioscorus and remained true to his promise. Adelphius (that was the name of this good bishop) met a worthy “rival” in the governor of the city Sopatra, an honest and important dignitary, “who was the father of those governed by him,” wrote the exile, “and in relation to me he turned out to be even more so.” Chrysostom entrusted the attention of the Olympiad to the sons of this excellent man, who at that time were studying in Constantinople schools. However, all the residents of the town, following the example of both of its leaders, tried with all their might to mitigate everything that was difficult for the sick old man in this poor and harsh area. They vied with each other and offered to send him all the things necessary for life from neighboring villas - his door, one might say, was besieged by these owners or their managers. He meekly refused these offers. “This country lacks everything,” he wrote to his friends, “I alone lack nothing.” A wealthy Syrian from Antioch, who owned lands in the vicinity of Kukuz, instructed his manager to deliver various products to Chrysostom. “Thank you for all this,” he answered the owner, “I will only keep your friendship, that’s all I need.” As you can see, small towns brought him more happiness than big cities - these homes of envy, ambition and baseness. The convoy left Zlatoust. The saint entrusted his letters to Constantinople to both praetorian commanders, Anatolius and Theodore, who became his friends, and he also took care of their patronage in the capital. One letter was to Olympias, and the other two were to the eunuch Brison and Peanius - as letters of recommendation to high-ranking officials. The letters to Peanius and the eunuch were simply notes; rather cold in their expression, they bore the stamp of distrust that the exile felt towards these faithful hearts, but he soon gave them complete justice. Chrysostom notified them of his arrival in Kukuz, adding that he felt good there, and asking as a favor to leave him here, because he felt very bad on the way and was afraid of a new change. The letter to the Olympics was written the next day after arrival. Chrysostom writes the same thing about Kukuza: that he wants to stay here, because everything here promises him peace, and he is too weak to move from one place to another with many adventures. “Let no one,” he continues, “let the ill-fated thought of sending me away from here with the intention of doing me good. Now, if, by unheard-of mercy, I was offered the choice of a place of residence according to my heart, if I was offered a seaside city near Constantinople, for example, Cyzicus or Nicomedia (these were the two cities that were discussed as the place of exile for Olympiad), then beware of refusing; as for any other place, reject this intention with all your usual caution, it would be a true disaster in my eyes. Here, at least, I rest my soul and body to such an extent that two days were enough for me to have the most painful consequences of my journey disappear.” In this letter, the saint tells his tender confidante the sad story of his stay in Caesarea, about his move from this city to Kukuz, about the suffering that he experienced near his enemies, who longed for his death, under the constant fear of meeting predators. “For 30 whole days and even more,” he wrote to her, “I did not stop fighting a killer fever and thus made this long and painful journey, not counting other infirmities, no less cruel, and my weak stomach. You will understand what happened to me with such a confluence of suffering, without a doctor, without medicine, without the opportunity to take baths, without the things most necessary for life, without rest either day or night, and in constant anxiety because of the Isaurians... Now I can confess this to you, because all this is over, and I tell you this without reticence. For nothing in the world would I have done this earlier, for fear of upsetting you too much... Today all the many disasters have disappeared, this thick smoke has cleared. As soon as I set foot in Kukuz, I threw away the disease with all its companions. And now I am in full health, freed from fear of robbers by the time of year that is coming, and by a good garrison, ready to menacingly meet them if they appeared. Although the country in which I live is very deserted and wild, I have an abundance of everything. Dear and respected Dioscorus does not cease to multiply worries in order to please me with everything, so I am forced to constantly resist his generosity, for my sake he moved to his villa, and all this in order to surround me with care and better arrange for me his city home for the winter. Accordingly, everyone shows me their affection... Therefore, only a dull echo of the suffering I endured remains in me, just as after a strong sea storm, the excitement still continues, although the wind no longer blows and peace has been restored in the air.” It was the beginning of September, the snow was still slow to appear in the Taurus Mountains, therefore, no cold was yet felt in the valley. This mild temperature, together with the goodwill that the exile met on all faces, restored his strength - it seemed that he came to life, for moral impressions constituted almost the entire life of Chrysostom. In delight, he wrote that he found the winters of Kukuz completely similar to those of Antioch and that he felt better here than in Constantinople. However, this pleasant delusion could not last long, and indeed, when towards the end of November snow accumulated on the mountains, the cold descended into the valley, and the cold wind penetrated into the houses themselves, the exile saw Kukuz in his true light. Dioscorus ran to caulk his house and gave Chrysostom instructions on what precautions should be taken in winter in Armenia. We will also see how painfully the saint fought against the destructive influence of this winter and finally realized how prudent the empress’s choice was when she sent a weak and sick exile to such a place. Great consolation awaited Chrysostom in Kukuza: he found there one of his relatives, a deaconess of the Antiochian Church, who, despite her advanced age, came to see him from the depths of Syria. At the first news of his expulsion, when there was a rumor that he would be sent to Scythia, she decided to follow him there, then, having learned the decree designating Armenia as his place of residence, she changed the direction of her path and, having crossed the Taurus, warned him at the place of exile. The brave deaconess was received in Cucuza, as such devotion deserved; the Bishop of Cucuza wished that she should live in the same position under his Church, and other clergy showed her the same respect and sympathy. Sabiniana (that was her name) was already noted among the famous women of the Christian East. According to one church writer, she was Chrysostom’s aunt on her father’s side and was connected by friendly feelings with Olympias. She is portrayed as a maiden distinguished by enthusiastic mysticism. Her company and concerns were a great relief for the lonely Chrysostom, abandoned in a country so deserted and gloomy. The exile's delusion regarding the Kukuz winters did not last long. About two months after his arrival, snow covered the mountain, the valley was literally penetrated by gusts of frosty wind, which sometimes made it impossible to breathe - Kukuz turned into a place completely unsuitable for the life of an elderly person. Chrysostom was forced to lock himself tightly in his room and maintain a big fire day and night, but this precaution turned out to be useless: the disease, which he was afraid of getting outside the house, overtook him at the very hearth. He began to develop a severe cough, the attacks of which were accompanied by vomiting and severe headaches. Moreover, when he wanted to raise the temperature of his room, he had to suffer no less from the intolerable smoke, which seemed ready to suffocate him, and the smoke also caused an increased cough, which doubled his suffering. To avoid this inconvenience, he decided to light the fire less often and spend his days in bed. So he remained chained to her all winter. In this position, which deprived him of movement, he developed an aversion to food, and then persistent insomnia. “I was at the very doors of death,” the saint later wrote to one of his friends, “and for two months I retained enough life to feel suffering.” He did not make these half-confession to the Olympics, or at least waited for the disaster to pass. Towards the end of winter, when the outside air became less noxious to him, so that he could get up, a minister named Anthony came to him from his dear deaconess with a letter from her. “I am happy,” Chrysostom wrote to her with childish simplicity, “that your servant arrived when my illness had already passed; if he had seen me during my terrible attacks, he would not have failed to tell you about them and you would have died of anxiety.” Despite such suffering and the inevitable hardships of this terrible climate, he repeated in almost all his letters that he loved Kukuz and felt happy there, because at least there he found peace, complete personal freedom, several friends who visited him and served him with all their hearts, and undisturbed peace; there is not a single enemy there to harass and persecute him. Meanwhile, his loneliness little by little ended. Friends began to come to him from everywhere, despite the cold, bad routes of communication and fear of the Isaurians. Evetius did not leave him all the time; many Syrian priests, having escaped the executioners of Porphyry, found refuge near him. He expected many more friends, still detained in Constantinople and Antioch prisons. When Chrysostom found out that the doors of the dungeons were open for them, he exclaimed with magnanimous hope: “Behold, they are free and will not hesitate to unite with me!” But fate did not realize this holy certainty. During a break from his suffering, Chrysostom set to work with all his characteristic zeal. A large number of letters were constantly awaiting him in Kukuza, and soon even more began to arrive when they learned that the governor and bishop of the city showed great affection and sincere respect for him and that, therefore, despite all the accidents of the journey, correspondence with him was quite reliable. The saint found in all these letters a complete revelation of everything that had happened in Constantinople since his departure: he became aware of the imprisonment of the bishops loyal to him, and the persecution of his friends, and their suffering, and the details of the criminal trial regarding the fire, and the position of the Church, which remained faithful to him, and the tyranny of the schismatics, and the sympathy for him on the part of Western Christians - in a word, everything that he did not know at all or that he heard vaguely during his journey, from popular rumor and messages that are even less trustworthy. As the picture of the events that took place after his expulsion from Constantinople unfolded before his eyes, he took up a pen and wrote or dictated answers to the scribes who were with him. Thus began this extensive correspondence, which was supposed to include the complete history of his persecution and of which, unfortunately, only 242 letters have reached us. Many of his letters did not reach their intended destination and disappeared along the way - either because they were intercepted in provinces hostile to him, or because those who undertook to convey them turned out to be unreliable people, or because of attacks by robbers. Communications were carried out partly through hired messengers, partly by travelers, who were known as people who were friendly to Chrysostom, and partly, and most often, by clergy, who at the same time took all sorts of precautions - and only this method was completely reliable. What especially should have touched the heart of Chrysostom was the behavior of the bishops, members of the Council, who preferred to incur shameful accusations and be chained like notorious arsonists, rather than renounce him, as they were offered, and enter into communion with the “wolf, sea robber and executioner”, the thief of his Church. The behavior of these bishops, being a clear evidence of his innocence in the eyes of the entire Christian world, the Emperor, the city prefect and his inquisitors, served at the same time as a solemn accusation of other bishops, his opponents, who dishonorably persecuted the minority of the Council. Chrysostom wrote a letter to these courageous fighters entitled: “To the bishops, presbyters and deacons, imprisoned for the faith,” here meaning all his companions. He assumed that they were still languishing in the dungeons of Constantinople, because the decree of August 29, by virtue of which they were released and their punishment was replaced by eternal exile, could only become known in Cucuza much later. “You are happy,” he wrote to them, “with your imprisonment, your bonds and chains, happy, I say, and three times, and a thousand times happy, you have attracted the surprise of the whole world, even from those who are distant from you in both space and time. Everywhere, on land and at sea, your exploits, your courage, the constancy of your feelings, the holy independence of your spirit are glorified. Nothing that is considered terrible has shaken you: neither the trial, nor the executioner, nor the manifold tortures, nor countless threats of death, nor the judge spitting fire from his mouth, nor the enemies gnashing their teeth and plotting countless intrigues for you, nor slander, nor shameless accusations, nor death, which is daily presented to your eyes; on the contrary, this persecution itself has become a source of consolation for you. This is why everyone is vying to crown you and proclaim glory to you, and not only your friends, but also your enemies and persecutors; if these do not do this out loud, we only have to look into the depths of their conscience, and we will see that they are surprised at you just like us. Such is the property of virtue that even the one who fights against it gives it justice, and such is the property of evil that whoever produces it also condemns it...” Among the letters delivered from Constantinople, he found letters from his deaconesses, where they gave him an account of the accusations of incendiary and schism, of what they had to endure both in the forum before the judge and in prison. Pentadia listed all her sufferings with a kind of bitter pleasure, recalling, perhaps, that the judges of Eudoxia managed to surpass in cruelty even the judges of her former persecutor Eutropius. Amprukta also conveyed to him about the trials that she and her sisters had undergone for loyalty to their rightful Lord and the Church. Amprukta was one of those deaconesses who were present in the Church of Hagia Sophia at the last farewell words of the archbishop, and for this alone she should have been charged with arson. This woman ran a hostel of nuns in Constantinople, she was visiting this city and, in all likelihood, arrived from Syria at the time when Chrysostom became archbishop, and then, it is believed, returned to her homeland to die. She knew Greek poorly and thus apologized for the fact that she rarely wrote to her beloved father. Chrysostom answered her that instead of depriving him of his letters, Ampructa would have done better if she had written in her native language, which was as familiar to him as Greek. As for Olympias, she did not write anything about her confession. She was probably ashamed to divulge to the exile, dejected by misfortunes, about the sufferings that she had the good fortune to endure in his name. What significance did her unknown persecution have in her eyes? What would her death itself mean in comparison with the misfortunes of this great man, whose expulsion excited the entire Christian world? This is what she thought, and, not daring to write about herself, she only mentioned in passing in her letters that she, too, was cruelly persecuted, like many of the faithful, and bore her share of suffering for the Church and for him. Only from the letters of other persons and from the stories of visitors who came from Constantinople did Chrysostom learn with what nobility and firmness of spirit Olympias forced her executioners to retreat and turned Optat’s accusations into nothing. Here is the place to dwell on a whole series of letters from Chrysostom to the Olympiad of a purely personal nature, on these precious monuments of friendship, which has no equal, preserved for us by the holiness of memories. There are 17 of these letters - in our editions of Chrysostom, Photius considered them to be the same number, however, judging by some places in the text, there were obviously more of them. All of them were written from exile, and most of them from Kukuz. In ancient times they enjoyed exceptional veneration, not only as a work of Christian philosophy, but also as examples of a pure, elegant, animated style. History can, moreover, look at them both as an object of psychological research of that era, and as a conversation between two great souls who hid nothing from each other. And in fact, the letters of Chrysostom allow us to reconstruct the letters of Olympias, of course, in basic thoughts, but often in form. These are the circumstances and for what reasons this correspondence took place. Many historians emphasize that not a single philosophical work of antiquity seemed more worthy of such sincere surprise as the entire set of small works in the form of letters and reasoning addressed by Chrysostom to the Olympiad from his exile. And in fact, the very nature of their subject matter, which represents the deepest analysis of the human heart, the beauty of the style, which prompted the Eastern Church to consider them among the most beautiful pearls of its crown, and finally, the special circumstances in which they were written and which establish a connection between the author and his work - all prompt us to give these works an honorable place among the works of the great saint. They belong to the genus that Latin rhetoric calls consolatorium, and Greek rhetoric calls punishment καραχλητιχὁν, i.e. an admonishing message, - this is written by a father to his daughter, a friend to his girlfriend, who for his sake became a victim of the most unjust persecution. But what a comforter this author of letters to the Olympics was! He talks about the torment he experiences, but he also tames his suffering; he pours into the soul, which, according to his own theory of friendship, constitutes half of his soul, a balm that is healing for himself, because he suffers just as much, and even more. “Tell me that my instructions are of benefit to you,” he writes, “and prove it to me with your peace of mind. Shake off, shake off this ashes of sadness that blind and consume you, rise from disastrous despondency, and I will be rewarded for all my worries. Your courage will strengthen mine, and the calmness of your thoughts will comfort me in my suffering...” True, in pagan times there were philosophers who, in their spare time, wrote consolations about exile, sometimes decorated with expensive “gilding.” But here the consolation is expressed by the exile himself, sent from city to city, into the desert, to the edge of the Roman world, the unfortunate, unjustly condemned by two Councils, whom the Emperor expelled, persecuted by the court as an arsonist, the bishops, his brothers, reject, who is deprived of everything, even bread, a bed to sleep and whom the convoy of soldiers assigned to him drags rather than accompanies to his last refuge, under the constant threat of attack by predators. This is the comforter who wrote to Olympias. From the letters it is clear that some of them were written during travel stops, under roofs open to all kinds of weather changes, in snatches during moments of respite that were given to him for sleep, while other letters were written in wild deserts, partly in Kukuza - under the fear of the Isaurians, partly in Aravissa, among the eternal snows. In this most terrible of exiles there was no such suffering, the bitterness of which he would not drink to the dregs, drop by drop, and at the same time he consoles and says about himself: exile is nothing! Chrysostom's philosophy is, in essence, based on the principle that evil exists in sin and that we ourselves produce it. Everything that harms the purity of the soul, that humiliates it and prevents it from striving for a higher destiny, is evil, everything else is indifferent, as temporary and accidental: such are the joys and sorrows of this world, which do not reach the soul at all - changeable, like shadows and ghosts, fleeting, like a blade of grass, or rather, like a blade of grass, carried away and scattered by the slightest breath of wind. Indeed, only good and evil touch the eternal essence and cleanse the soul, or defile it; what affects the body is neither bad nor good, these are fleeting accidents, like the body itself. The Stoics already adhered to this principle, but giving their system a moral application, they told the suffering: “Despise torment, despise chains, imprisonment, exile. Despise also those who subject you to them without reason. Seclude yourself from the world where misfortune and injustice reign, and withdraw into yourself, into your own self, sinless and pure.” The Christian view of Chrysostom takes a big step forward compared to this proud teaching. He says to the persecuted: “Suffer, because it pleases God. You yourself don’t know - maybe your suffering has a connection with His views on the moral order in the world; Perhaps the persecution that is now shaking our Churches is the same as the storm for purifying the spoiled air, winter and frost for the ripening of the seed underground, the night for the revitalization of our body? From the point of view of this sublime contemplation, submissive to Him who disposes of everything and determines everything, the persecutor becomes an instrument of severity and renewal in the right hand of God, and the persecuted becomes a humble servant of an unknown task, on the execution of which he works all day long and only at the end of it receives retribution. So, we must go through the obstacles of life not only with humility, but with joy, with an expression of gratitude to Providence, which always leads us to happiness if we love goodness. This philosophy, so sublime and strong, might seem to us to be a pure theory, a simple speculation, impracticable in practice, except in a momentary impulse leading to martyrdom - however, this philosophy was followed by Chrysostom during the continuous increase of disasters and injustices during the three years of exile. When reading the philosopher who preached submission to poverty and exile in the golden palace of Nero, it is necessary to forget his life, only then can we enjoy his book; but when you read Chrysostom, you involuntarily ask yourself what should be more surprising: the book or its author? The imperious bishop, whose severity and energy aroused so much hatred against him in the days of his prosperity, is here a most tender friend, whom the suffering of his loved ones torments in exile more than the sting of persecution. The brave servant of the Church almost loses his presence of mind at the mere thought that his best friend is suffering for him. The letters of Chrysostom, one might say, show that in reality there were two people in him: one - great for all centuries with his word, an unshakable leader, unyielding in the fight against the enemies of the Church, who found his death in the fight; the other is soft and gentle, infinitely tender towards his friends, merciful towards his enemies, even when he sees in them a scourge raised by the right hand of God against the Church and himself. The fusion of these two men undoubtedly makes the Kukuz exile one of the greatest and holiest personalities that has ever appeared on the stage of world history. Olympias, having entered the Church of Constantinople as a deaconess, devoted money, her weight in society, and all the powers of her mind and high knowledge to the work she had chosen. Nektarios, himself a man of light and a worthy connoisseur of the merits of Olympias, chose her as his advisor, and Chrysostom as his advisor and friend. She spent happy days between the poor and the church, proud to be connected with such a great man, whom she looked upon as a father and mentor - and suddenly the revolution carried out by the evil passions of Eudoxia disrupted everything, introduced a schism in the Church, expelled Chrysostom and scattered his faithful flock. The Olympics were not alone in suffering the consequences of this persecution. She was then 36 years old, and traces of the beauty celebrated by modern historians had certainly not yet disappeared, despite the harshness and hardships she endured. The sight of the storm breaking over everything she respected and loved struck her with both amazement and grief. Olympias could not see, without a deep shock to her sincere faith, the overthrow of all foundations, the torment of the good, the victory of the evil, the triumph of slander over innocence, the desecration of the sanctuary, which remained without retribution from heavenly justice. Seeing that dishonest informers brazenly boasted of their luxury and prosperity, when the name of the one who deserved the blessing of the entire Christian world was cursed in his own Church, she asked herself: is there really a Providence directing the course of earthly affairs, has God abandoned his Church? She fought in vain in prayer against her doubts, which terrified her, imploring God to show his justice and thereby strengthen the faith of her children. These mental storms almost deprived her of her sanity. She fell into moral exhaustion, from which she was brought out only by some strong shocks that pushed her into the field of events, such as the accusation of arson and the interrogation of the prefect, or the encouragement she received from Chrysostom to work for friends or for himself. Books, even spiritual ones, which she had previously read so diligently, no longer brought her comfort. “I will no longer hear,” she said, “the voice of God from these golden lips...” Her health could not bear the internal shocks, she was overcome by a continuous fever, then aversion to all food and movement. Soon Olympias did not leave the bed, to which feverish insomnia confined her, and if she left the bed, it was only to throw herself on the floor and cry - in a word, she was exhausted both in soul and body. The disease that consumed Olympias was known to pagan Greece, which called it melancholy; the great Greek doctors attributed it to the corruption of juices and sought physical medicines to cure it. The Jews considered it a disease of the soul, a punishment from God, worse than death. Jehovah in the book of Deuteronomy, having named all the scourges with which he threatened the Jews for their unfaithfulness to him: slavery, pestilence, leprosy, hunger, which will prompt mothers to devour their own children, adds, as the “crown” of all disasters: “and I will give to this people a heart withered by sorrow, a dull and extinct look, a soul consumed by sorrow.” The Old Testament prophets more than once experienced attacks of this mortal suffering at the sight of the Israelites, deaf to their instructions, mired in crime. Elijah, amazed by him, exclaimed with anguish: “God, accept my spirit, I give it to you!” And another prophet added: “Accept him, for it is better to die than to live like this!” In the New Testament this suffering was called tribulation and raged with no less force. Christianity, so concerned with spiritual healing, found moral cures for this disease, which it considered moral, but sorrow nevertheless reigned among believers. She lived in the desert with hermits, in monasteries with hermits. Finally, it was not uninteresting to civil society, just as it was to religious society: it usually appeared after great upheavals, strong outbursts of passions, and the loss of great hopes. This terrible disease, which kills both the soul and the body at once, which as a result the Church Fathers explained as the machinations of the devil for our entrapment, this disease did not escape the penetrating gaze of Chrysostom: he observed its first signs in the letters of Olympias, then he saw their increase, tried to fight them, and the insufficient success of this struggle showed him how strong the danger was. “My sister,” he exclaimed in one of his letters, “you want to die, I see it!” And she really was dying, but he decided, amid the misfortunes and worries of exile, to extract this daughter of his heart from the abyss into which she was drawn with uncontrollable force. Like a skilled doctor, the saint searches for the cause of the disease in order to find means for healing. He saw that Olympias's grief stemmed from two sources: from church unrest, which multiplied day by day, and from their mutual separation. Against each of these reasons, he used a special medicine: against the first - reasoning and texts of the Holy Scriptures, against the second - evidence of the most touching affection and the hope of a date. Let us consider successively both parts of his consolation, dividing them, as it were, into two sections, although they are mixed together in the letters. First of all, Chrysostom begins to consider an important issue - the disasters of the Church, the spectacle of which inflicted such a deep wound on the heart of Olympias, and he attacks with all his force this tendency of impressionable souls to be tempted. It is known that Christians denoted with this word the state of the soul, which, being shocked in its trust in God by external events incomprehensible to it, puts its false judgment above faith and, thus, allows deviation from the straight path. The saint persistently struggles with this danger, one of the greatest for a Christian, in his letters to Olympias; he even composed a special reasoning in his conclusion - in order to protect both his pious friend and other believers who, like her, were tempted by the events of that time, from these temptations of false reason. Chrysostom considers this weakness - to put one's rash impression or opinion along with the inscrutable intentions of the One who created the world and gives life to it - as a fatal heart disease and as the tricks of the devil, because he sees in it only the indignation and madness of human pride. Trust in the wisdom of God, trust in His infinite goodness and do not judge Him - this is the essence of his view, which, in a brilliant presentation, he applies to nature, human society, even to the history of faith itself. Olympias, as he tells us (and we see this, moreover, from the answers to the letters of the pious deaconess), was gifted with a perspicacious mind, educated in the reading of the Holy Scriptures and what was then called Divine philosophy, but rather stubborn and prone to contradiction. So, Chrysostom was dealing with a student who was not easy to defeat, with a patient who challenged his medications. And he returns to the same thing in several stages and ardently insists on the most important. True, the Church is tormented, its leaders have been expelled, predatory wolves have invaded the sheepfold and scattered the flock, the mighty of the world have risen against the sanctuary and brought abuse and schism into it. So what? - he exclaims, - has nothing like this ever happened in the world? Did not the Church of Christ grow amidst turmoil, and Christ himself, from cradle to grave, was not surrounded by reproach? And if this is so, then why grumble, and what are we with all our miserable sufferings, when the Son of God and His Apostles brought us the truth only in the midst of persecution and torment? And what about persecution and what about the suffering of this world? “Believe me, dear and venerable wife,” writes the saint, “there is only one evil - this is sin, and there is no other good except virtue, everything else, happiness or misfortune, no matter what they call it, is just smoke, ghosts and dreams... In other words, evil is in ourselves, we produce it; we ourselves create it through our own fall; and what is outside of us cannot prevail over us if we remain firm in our hope in the infinite wisdom and goodness of the Most High. Let us consider your thought when it is confused by the strife that besets us. Your friends suffer from them, and you suffer from them, and cry over so many disasters, of which you probably see neither the goal nor the outcome. Gloomy and black thoughts besiege you, you fall into despair because you do not understand anything about everything that is happening. Oh, I don’t want to hide the evil that horrifies you, I don’t want to deny or belittle it, I want, on the contrary, for you to consider it for what it is, i.e. more terrible, more profound than it seems to you yet. Yes, we are sailing amidst an immense storm. The ship that carries us rushes without control at the will of the angry ocean. Half of his sailors are in the water, their corpses swing before our eyes on the surface of the waves, the other half awaits death. No more sails, no more masts; the oars were thrown, the helm was broken, and the helmsmen, sitting on the bench, hugged their knees with their hands, not knowing what to do, and finding the strength only to moan. The dark night hides everything - up to the underwater rock on which they are rushing, and only the deafening roar of the shafts reaches their ears. The sea itself raises from its depths abominable monsters, which it spews onto the ship to the great horror of those floating... In vain do I try to express with the abundance of these images the many disasters that beset us, for what human language could convey them? And yet I, who should be embarrassed by them more than anyone, I do not abandon hope: I raise my eyes to the Supreme Helmsman of the universe, who does not need the art of control in the midst of a storm...” So, one should not despair, one should constantly remember the following truth: one should fear only misfortune in the world - sin and weakness of spirit, which leads to sin, everything else is a dream. Treachery and enmity, deception and slander, insults and slander, theft, imprisonment, sharp swords, troubled seas, war in the whole world - all this is nothing and can confuse the waking soul. The Apostle Paul teaches us this when he says, “The things that are seen are temporary.” Why fear as a real disaster cases that are carried away by time, like water is carried away by a river?.. “But,” the saint continues, “they will say: “Such a disaster is a cruel, heavy burden!” - Of course, but let's look at him from the other side and learn to despise him. Insults, contempt, ridicule directed at us by our enemies, what are they, really? The wool of a decayed cloak, which is worn away by worms and destroyed by time. However,” they add, “in the midst of these trials that befall the world, many perish and are tempted.” Fair enough, and this has happened many times, but after destruction, death and temptation, order is restored, silence reigns, and truth resumes its previous path. You want to be wiser than God! You explore the commands of Providence! Better bow before the law prescribed by Him - do not judge, do not complain, repeat only with the Apostle: “The depth of God’s intentions, who can comprehend you?” If we imagine a person who has never seen the sun rise or set, would he not be tempted to see how the daylight disappears from the sky and night covers the earth? He would have thought that God was abandoning him. And the one who saw only spring, would he not be tempted when he saw the onset of winter, this death of nature? He would have thought that God, by renouncing His creation, was abandoning the world He created. And the one who sees how they sow seed into the ground and how this seed rots under the ground and frost, will he not be tempted, asking: why did this seed perish? But later he will see its rebirth in the yellowing fields. Another will see the sun rising again in the sky, and spring again replacing winter. These people will later repent of their blindness and bow with reverence to the order established by Providence. So it is in the moral world, and in the events of life: it is enough to observe them to soon become convinced with sorrow that such doubt is simply blasphemy. But even the story of our redemption is not surrounded by temptations? What an object of temptation this Divine Child must have been, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a den, forced to leave the manger that served him as a cradle in order to flee to a foreign people! Couldn’t many say, when they saw the poor family of Joseph, who had driven themselves out: “How? And this is the Savior of mankind, the King of heaven and worlds, the Son of God?” And they should be tempted. Later, when this child returned from exile and grew up, an irreconcilable war broke out against him from everywhere. At first, John's disciples persecute him with their envious enmity. “Teacher,” they say to the Forerunner, “he who was with you across the Jordan, now baptizes, and everyone comes to him!” - words of envy inspired by the spirit of malice. And when Jesus begins to work miracles, how much slander is against Him and how many temptations for the weak! “You are a Samaritan,” they shout at him from all sides, “and the devil has taken possession of you!” He is accused of loving good food and wine, wicked and depraved people. Seeing him talking with a woman, he is called a false prophet. “If he were a prophet,” they whispered from all sides, “he would know what kind of woman is speaking to him.” At his very appearance, they gnashed their teeth, and not only the Jews burned with enmity towards him... “His brothers themselves,” notes the evangelist, “did not believe in him.” Olympias objected in justification of her grief that many, yielding to persecution, fell into error and schism. “Do you really think,” objected Chrysostom, “that there were no disciples who were tempted at the sight of the Cross?.. The trial itself, the scourging, the ridicule of royal dignity, and the crucifixion - what a temptation they must have produced! Christ is abandoned by his disciples; nothing is visible around Him except insults from soldiers or mobs, ridicule and slander. “If you are the son of God,” they shouted to Him at the foot of the Cross, “then come down from the Cross, and we will believe in You.” But the height of insult, surpassing all inventions of wickedness, was the preference for a thief, a robber stained with blood. “Whom do you want: Christ or Barabbas?” - “Barrabas! - the whole Jewish people shouts. “We want Barrabas, but crucify this one, crucify him!” Has there ever been a more shameful death? And He dies alone, without disciples; only the robber, his fellow executioner, confesses Him from his cross. No, all the temptations taken together could never compare with such a temptation. His burial itself is alms... This is how the Truth, sent down from heaven, received its beginning on earth: its path was surrounded by circumstances that were a test for the strong and death for the weak. She realized the Divine word spoken by herself; Woe to him who is tempted! The life of the Apostles and the preaching of the Gospel also did not escape temptation and persecution. The apostles are scattered, they flee and hide, they preach in darkness, and yet faith flourishes, it spreads rapidly by the power of the miracles that marked its birth. One of them climbs down the window to escape death; An Angel is needed to free the other prisoners who are chained. When the powers that be drive them away, the beggars and artisans accept them. They are surrounded by the reverent care of purple merchants, tent makers, tanners, in remote quarters of the city or on the seashores. This was the path ordained by God himself in His ineffable wisdom. When the Apostle Paul asked Him for silence and peace for the success of his preaching, God answered him: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness...” “Now, pious and respected wife,” continues the author of these consolations, “if you single out happy events from the multitude of our disasters, then although you will not find signs and wonders there, you will certainly recognize in them the wonderful connection of the ways of Providence. With all this, Olympias, it is not necessary for you to accept everything from my lips without any effort on your part. I leave you to search and combine these various features of heavenly protection, comparing them with our disasters. Such soul-saving work will help disperse your despondency, strengthen your faith, and you will draw from it great relief in your sorrows.” This is the content of Chrysostom’s first letter to the dear deaconess, at least the one that is placed ahead of the others by the oldest publishers of the collection of these letters. One cannot help but see how many hints there are in it about his own position as an exile, about his actual hardships and suffering, about the malice of his enemies. It is also impossible not to see how, linking his martyrdom with the general plans of God regarding the Church, which are not yet visible to his eyes, he accepts all their consequences in advance as good, with faith and courage. Why despair when you endure less, and not find strength in the words of one who endures more? And how can one dare to grumble and lose heart when the Son of God himself proclaims his Gospel here on earth in no other way than in the midst of persecution and temptation? Apparently, the healing did not have the full effect that the doctor expected, and Olympias’s letters still expressed a deep depression of spirit. But Chrysostom did not despair and wrote a second letter, no less lengthy than the first, but concerning subjects remote from his main thought. “It’s too clear to me,” he wrote to her, that sorrow and despondency stubbornly control you, that’s why I want to write to you again. Oh that this letter could bring more comfort to your heart and improve your health. Be brave! I want again and by other means to shake off this sad ashes that covered you. Spiritual ashes, like material ashes, produce disastrous effects with terrifying force: first of all, they shock the vision and, finally, destroy it completely... Let us remove it with all possible diligence in order to clearly see everything that surrounds us, but also work with me, do not deprive me of your assistance. Doctors of bodily diseases, no matter how much they show their art in all the ways known to them, but if the sick do not cooperate with them on their part, then the medicine remains ineffective: the same is true for diseases of the spirit... “I would really like to act,” you write, “but I can’t. The suffering is stronger than me. I cannot dispel these thick clouds that envelop me, despite all my efforts to remove them.” All these are ghosts - empty excuses, because I know the sublimity of your mind, the strength and piety of your soul, I know the power of your prudence, the means of your philosophy; I know, finally, that victory over this furious sea of ​​sorrow and the return of clarity of heart is in your power... What to do in this case? When you hear that one Church has fallen, another is wavering, a third is cruelly struck by the waves and threatens to perish in them, that in many Churches there is a wolf instead of a shepherd, a sea robber instead of a helmsman, an executioner instead of a doctor, then, of course, you are allowed to be sad, because you cannot see such things without grief, but do not be upset beyond measure. If there is no need and it is not good to be overly upset about our own sins, for which we must give an account, it is all the more useless, disastrous, even wicked to fall into despondency and despair because of the sin of others...” On this occasion, Chrysostom cites the example of the Apostle Paul, who, having expelled from the Church one Christian guilty of a great crime, allowed him to return so that he would not be destroyed by excessive grief, the fruit of repentance. “Tell me, Olympias,” he continues, “if the Apostle did not allow a man so criminal to plunge into sorrow, if he resorted to the most extreme measure - forgiveness, in order to stop this disastrous sorrow, convinced that all excess is from the devil, then is it not extreme recklessness and madness to fall into despondency because of the sin of others? .. If you tell me again: I want, but I cannot, then I will repeat to you: empty excuses, unconvincing arguments! When dark thoughts attack you or you hear some news that can awaken them in you, plunge into the depths of your conscience and think about the terrible day when the world judgment comes... Before the One who needs neither accusers nor witnesses, no one is responsible for another, everyone has their own affairs, everyone has a special sentence. Think about this and contrast saving fear with this despondency, an instrument of the devil, and then begin the battle with firmness. A little determination is enough for the dark shell to disappear faster than a spider’s web...” Why should Olympias be embarrassed by the sins of others? Being persecuted, would she go to death for the crimes of her persecutors? The Olympics can appear as they are, fearlessly, even before the Last Judgment. Whose life is purer than hers, whose heart is more generous, whose hand is more generous, and who, having received the most beautiful gifts from above, has made a more beautiful use of them? In order to support a noble woman, carried away to death by a destructive weakening of the spirit, to inspire confidence in herself, to finally raise her in her own eyes. Chrysostom admires the perfections of this daughter of his heart. He shows her what she is like, what she has been since childhood, and how, having realized her merits, she must recognize herself above the pitiful disasters that oppress her. In a fit of desire to be listened to, he does not retreat from holy and noble flattery, that flattery which consists in exalting the strength of one who has a great battle ahead of him, in order to put him on a certain level with the difficulties that await him. The picture that Chrysostom paints on this occasion is interesting for us especially because it depicts the Olympics for us as it seemed to him; and indeed, for him it was almost not a woman, it was already an angelic being, and such and such a being allowed itself to be dominated by imaginary disasters, in the eyes of a sage worthy of contempt! The saint begins to count the virtues, a wonderful combination of which he presents in his picture. He extols the purity of her life, which, being dedicated to chaste widowhood, is equal in merit to the life of virgins dedicated to God, then follows her mercy, which exceeds virginity itself, charity, in which Olympias has undoubted primacy, and patience. Trials seemed to increase this patience, and nothing could weaken it. A whole speech, even a whole story, is not able to tell about all the sorrows that weighed on her from her youth: the persecution of her loved ones, the persecution of strangers, great and small, her friends and enemies, not excluding priests - every episode of these sad incidents would provide an inexhaustible subject for her glorification. What more can be said about her voluntary deprivations, exhaustion, fasting, and the struggle of the spirit with the flesh? “The words “sobriety” and “temperance in food” are not at all applicable to you, pious and honorable wife,” he writes to her, “you need to find others, you need to elevate your language to convey the ideal perfection of your life. What word will express the severity of your holy vigils? You have conquered sleep for prayer, just as you conquered hunger for fasting, and vigil has become as natural for you as sleep is for others; your charity and mercy, more fiery than a fiery furnace, carried your glory beyond the edges of the seas. To depict your life would mean to open and unfold before your eyes a whole sea of ​​miracles; I might have tried to do this if I had not had an even more useful and important goal here; help you and heal you.” In this letter, Chrysostom again touches on the luxury of women in the capital of the East, an insane luxury that far leaves behind the extravagances of Rome and the entire West. Olympias was always distinguished by modesty and despised dress - a virtue, of course, very commendable in a noble woman, who, in order to achieve it, had to go against not only general custom, but also the examples of her family, at a time when this passion for dress, combined with coquetry, infected even the poor in Constantinople on an equal basis with the rich, not excluding virgins belonging to the churches. “Mediocre minds,” says Chrysostom, “can reduce the modesty of women to the last level of their merits; I put it in first place. Upon careful consideration, you are convinced that this virtue requires from those who implement it not only sublimity of spirit, but wisdom of behavior. More than one New Testament prescribes modesty in the words of the Apostle Paul, who forbids silver jewelry, as well as precious fabrics, for women, even married ones. The Old Testament speaks no differently, although in it you will not find anything similar to this Divine philosophy that guides us now, and although God leads people there only in unclear images to the organization of external society. Indeed, listen to how forcefully the prophet Isaiah castigates the luxury of women in Israeli society. “The voice of God against the daughters of Zion! - he exclaims in sacred anger. “For they have become proud, raising their heads high, with looks full of affectation, dragging low the folds of their clothes, majestic gait, rattling the chains of their feet - and the Lord will humiliate the daughters of Zion. Your incense will turn to dust, a rope will be given to you instead of a belt, your beautiful headdress will fall from your head, and you will be bald for your deeds.” Calculating the harm caused by this disease of the spirit in all classes of Byzantine society, Chrysostom moves on to the nuns, who, despite the coarse fabric of their clothes, compete in coquetry with women hung with gold and silk. “Look,” he says, “at this virgin, whose robes breathe sweetness, and whose tunic is loose and drags on the ground; with her gait, the sound of her voice, the movement of her eyes and her outfits, she acts like a deadly poison, attracting eyes, arousing passions, and thus tearing out an abyss under the feet of those passing by! Can you call her a virgin, and would you rather classify her as a libertine? She is more dangerous than the libertines themselves..." Humility in exploits was the main virtue of the Olympics, at least in it she had no rivals. With what generosity of heart, with what unshakable firmness, with what sublime contempt she met her accusers and executioners when she was summoned to the prefect's trial on charges of arson. This daring attack on the honor of such a woman attracted the astonishment of the entire Christian world to the courageous deaconess, and her fame spread her exploits to the borders of the empire. In the Churches faithful to Orthodoxy, there was only talk about its glory and triumph, and this is how they expressed it. Chrysostom was informed first of all by popular rumor about this heroism of his friend, for Olympias disdained to boast of an act in which she saw only the simple fulfillment of duty. And when Chrysostom wanted to greet her, using precisely these expressions: “glory” and “triumph,” Olympias reproached him. “What are you telling me about glory and triumph? - she answered him. “I am as far from all this as the dead are from the living.” "How? - Chrysostom objects in a letter. -Have you not erected trophies of the innocence of the persecuted? Have you not won a great victory and worn a crown that blooms forever? You claim that you are as far from these trophies as the dead are from the living; your words only prove to me that you were able to trample underfoot the feeling of pride, but the universe is looking at the field watered with your blood. You were expelled from your home and Fatherland, separated from friends and loved ones, you knew exile and tasted the bitterness of death every day, not because a person could really experience death many times, but because you felt it so many times with your heart; and under the pressure of present disasters, and in anticipation of those that threatened the future, you thanked God, who gave permission for them in his wisdom.” He adds the following magnificent comparison to support his reasoning: “Think, dear and honorable wife, that in struggle the human spirit is strengthened by the very trials that it endures. This is the nature of sorrows: they elevate above all suffering those who experience them calmly and generously. Trees growing in the shade lack strength and become unable to produce fruit; those who are exposed to all changes in the air, gusts of wind, and rays of the sun are full of strength, clothed with leaves and covered with fruits; sea ​​wrecks produce sailors... Repeat this often to yourself, incomparable Olympiad, say this to those who are waging this magnificent struggle with you. Without allowing yourself to despair; revive the thoughts of others, teach them to despise empty shadows, ghosts of the night, dreams, the dirt they trample; teach them to despise this flying smoke, not to look at the web as a real obstacle; teach us to walk without stopping in front of the grass that is ready to decay, for what else is there if not all this, our earthly prosperity and disasters?..” At one time, Chrysostom might have thought, and even thought, that his efforts were crowned with success; Olympias's letters showed more calm and determination; she claimed to be cured, or on the way to being cured. So, Chrysostom “took by storm,” as he put it, “the fortress of her sorrow,” but he was only behind its first wall, and he had a lot of work ahead of him to take possession of this entire fortress. In addition to these general reasons that plunged the Olympics into the abyss of sorrow, there was another, private and purely personal reason - their separation. Chrysostom often returns to this subject, and with considerable urgency, to show that in his eyes this reason was among the most important. He contrasts the sorrows of disorder in the Church with general medicines, the purpose of which is to confirm faith in Divine Providence, strengthen the soul against the blows of chance, which, in the end, turn out to be nothing more than ghosts and smoke, to prove that true happiness consists in contentment with oneself here on earth, and in anticipation of an eternal reward there in Heaven, that, in essence, the persecutor is pitiful, while the persecuted are worthy of envy. The saint contrasts the sorrow of separation from his spiritual father and friend with one remedy - hope, even confidence that their separation will end. And he experiences the same sadness as a result of separation; he does not hide this from Olympias, but, on the contrary, uses this as one of the means to console her. Chrysostom advises her to meditate on his writings, where she can still hear and see him; then he will write her long letters, he composes arguments for her, or at least for her sake, which she must re-read constantly and, moreover, out loud, if her strength allows. So he tries to dispel her suffering and, with holy care, console the meek woman, for whom he was a spiritual father, leader, friend, the last and fragile support in a life full of trials. In one of his letters (2nd), the saint sets out his teaching on spiritual friendship. “Not only social disasters,” he writes, “are the source of your suffering, I know this very well, dear and respected wife, our separation is also their bitter source. Although I am nothing more than a blade of grass, I hear from here how you sigh and repeat to everyone: “His word does not ring in our ears; we no longer have the happiness of listening to his teachings; deprived of heavenly teaching, we are condemned to die of hunger, which the prophet Amos speaks of.” What to answer to this? First of all, I’ll tell you, Olympias, that even if you can’t hear me with your ears, you can talk to me by reading my works, which won’t hurt me, moreover, from writing special letters, whenever I find a reliable person with whom to send them. But can’t your desire to hear me be fulfilled, and God won’t allow you to see me again? Why this doubt? No, no, don't doubt it - I know it will happen. I will then remind you that this promise was given to you not without reason and not only to reassure you with empty words. If the delay is painful for you, then think that it will not be lost for the reward, as long as it does not cause any grumbling... Yes, it is a cruel struggle, a struggle that requires a generous heart and a mind enlightened by true philosophy - to endure separation from a being that is dear to you. Who says that? Anyone who knows how to love sincerely and knows all the power of love will understand what I am saying. But so that we do not get lost in search of a true friend, this rare and precious treasure, let us resort directly to the holy Apostle Paul: he will reveal to us all the greatness of the battle and all the strength of the soul needed to withstand it. Paul, as it were, took off his flesh and threw off his rough bodily shell - it was, in a sense, a pure spirit going around the Universe. He seemed to have freed himself from all passions, imitating the dispassion of supersensible beings, and lived on earth as if he were already in heaven. He willingly endured the misfortunes of this world and, as if in someone else's flesh, prison and chains, exile and ill-treatment, threats and torment, stoning and drowning - in a word, all possible types of torment; but when this man, insensitive to suffering, saw himself separated from the soul that was dear to him, he fell into such confusion, felt such grief that he immediately left the city, where he did not find the friend whom he had come to look for there. “When I came to Troas to preach the Gospel of Christ,” he writes to the Corinthian brothers, “although the Lord opened the gates of this city to me, my spirit was not at peace, because I did not find my brother Titus there. Therefore, having said goodbye to them, I went to Macedonia.” How is this, Pavel? Imprisoned in shackles, in chains, torn apart by blows and all bloodied, you preach, baptize, perform the Holy Sacrament - and do not neglect anything to save one person? And when you come to Troas, when you see a field prepared for good sowing, when everything promises you free labor and a rich harvest, do you give up what was already in your hands? And he had no other goal when going to Troas, “where he came to preach the Gospel.” “Nobody opposed you: “The gates were open to me,” you write and, despite that, you immediately leave! “Yes, of course,” he answers me, “because I am overwhelmed with grief; the absence of Titus has confused my spirit and struck my heart with despondency to such an extent that I must do this.” We have nothing to guess about the reason for his departure; we know it reliably, from the testimony of the Apostle; “My spirit was not at peace, so after saying goodbye to them, I set off.” You see, Olympics, it is not without a fierce struggle that they endure the absence of a friend, this is a bitter and terrible test that requires nobility and fortitude. This is the kind of struggle you are enduring now. Remember that the harsher it is, the more beautiful the crown of victory and the more abundant the fruits of peace; this is what should sweeten the severity of the delay for you, this is the certainty of the reward. Oh, without a doubt, it is not enough for friends to be bound by spiritual ties. The consolation of separated people is not limited to this. They also demand a date, and if they are deprived of it, then most of their happiness disappears. “My brothers,” the same Apostle writes to the Macedonians, “deprived of you for some time in body, but not in spirit, I wished with all the more fervor to see your face again, and I, Paul, desired this more than once: but Satan prevented this... That is why, no longer able to bear this absence, I decided to remain alone in Athens and sent Timothy to you.” What power is in every word! How the flame of love for others that burned within him shines here with a bright light! The expression he uses to denote his grief contains not only the concept of forced separation or the feeling of a person abandoned, but also the position of a father whose children were kidnapped; This is what the Apostle experienced. He seems to be saying to the friends from whom he is separated: “I thought that I would find consolation in the fact that I am connected with you spiritually, that I kept you in my heart, that I saw you recently: but no, this is not enough; none of this dispels my sadness.” What do you want, tell me, what do you want with such strength? – It’s a joy to meet them. “I ardently wanted to see your face,” he says. What does this mean, great Apostle? You, for whose sake the world was crucified and who was crucified for the sake of the world, you who stripped yourself of all carnal passions, you, in a sense, a disembodied spirit, have you really given yourself over to such a slavish feeling of love and fallen into dependence on this piece of dirt, a handful of earth, accessible to the senses? “Yes,” he answered, “I do not deny this, I am not embarrassed by it, but rather I am proud of it, because this is love for others, the mother of all good, pouring out from my soul...” The very presence of children does not satisfy him. He, moreover, needs to see their face; “I fervently wish to see your face.” Tell me, what is this strange desire? Is it really so, literally, that you want to see their face? “Oh, very much,” he replies, “because a person is revealed in the face.” A soul attached to another soul cannot express anything, hear anything on its own: I can hear those dear to me only in their personal presence, I can talk to them. That is why I want to see your face: there is a tongue, the interpreter of our thoughts, eyes in which the innermost movements of the heart are depicted. Only in this way can you fully communicate with your beloved soul... Be sure, Olympias, that you will see me again and that you will be freed from this separation. Show me your affection, finding in my letters the same power as in my words, and you will really show it to me if I find out that my letters brought you all the good that I wish for you. What is the good? The fact that the peace and joy that took possession of you when I was near you will return to your soul will be a great consolation for me in my terrible loneliness. If you want to inspire me with a little more courage (and I know that this is your most ardent desire), then let me know that you have dispelled all your sadness. With this you will reward, on your part, my devotion and love for you. You know what kindness you will do to me and how much you will console my heart if I am convinced from your letters that your sadness has disappeared.” Under the influence of these gentle and persistent consolations, the soul of Olympias became clearer, at least for a while; she wanted to live - and she came to life. Meanwhile, letters to Cucuza multiplied, and visitors flocked from all parts of the East. From the provinces bordering Armenia, there were especially many guests who ventured into the mountains since they became free. Among them were laymen indifferent to the displeasure of the governors, priests hiding from the vigilance of their schismatic superiors, crowds of monks confident in the consent of their abbots, and several bishops for whom the voice of conscience and duty was higher than the favors of the court. Among them there were even pious women, including very noble ones, who decided to go to the saint in the desert with the onset of spring, but he forbade them to do so, pointing out the tediousness and danger of the journey. The schismatic Patriarch Porphyry of Syria wrote with anger to his Constantinople accomplice: “All Antioch is in Kukuza.” He should have said: “Everything that is honest in the clergy of the extreme East consults with our enemy, openly or secretly; Chrysostom is now more than ever the Primate of the Church.” To preserve his health, they sent him remedies that were known against the severe cold of the Taurus. In addition, there was quite frequent correspondence with that good doctor Gymnetius, whom he met in Caesarea. He also received large sums of money, although these parcels were unpleasant to him - the money was immediately distributed to the poor of Armenia or used to preach Christianity. They did good to him just as he himself did to others. Deprived of everything, weak, given over as a sacrifice to a merciless climate, Chrysostom practiced for himself what he preached amid the splendor of the first archbishopric throne of the East, namely, that earthly blessings are nothing more than a temporary loan that God gives to us so that we return it through alms. He knew how to gather treasures only in heaven. In the midst of these worries, the inexhaustible need for activity did not give him a moment of rest. His formidable struggle with the Emperor, the three robber patriarchs and the union of bishops who were eager to destroy him was not enough for him: he loved the struggle and was looking for one that would be, so to speak, a “rest” in his personal persecution. It’s amazing how he, in the wilderness of Kukuz captivity, surrounded by robbers, rushed into three large enterprises, each of which could have absorbed the entire activity of an ordinary person. These enterprises were nothing more or less than the establishment of the Christian faith in Phenicia, the strengthening of Orthodoxy in the Gothic Church and, which is even difficult to believe, the conversion of the Persian kingdom. We have already talked about Chrysostom’s first attempts to exterminate pagan worship in Phenicia and how difficult such a task was due to the deep-rootedness of pagan beliefs in the hearts of its inhabitants and the inactivity of the authorities, who did not bother to take on the work of official propaganda. At the very first stop on his way to exile, Chrysostom arranged in Nicaea, as we have seen, a missionary mission of monks and priests with the intention of resuming the interrupted preaching in Tire and Berita. This missionary effort, despite daring efforts, had absolutely no success, largely due to the reluctance of the local schismatic bishops, who were better prepared to leave the worshipers of Hercules and Astarte alone rather than be obliged to convert an exile of the imperial court. So, the heroism of the destroyers of pagan temples turned out to be useless almost everywhere, due to the opposition of local clergy. The poor monks soon needed everything, and private charity did not come to the rescue. When they were dying of hunger, the schismatic priests did not miss the opportunity to tell them; “The man who sent you cannot do anything for you, he has neither an obol for bread for you, nor a shadow of credit for patronizing you in the enterprise; you are simply madmen, sacrificing yourselves to his vain glory.” Such speeches, of course, discouraged these people, whose leader was an exile, and they gave up; the pagans, in turn, defeated them. The churches that they began to build were broken, the temples were restored little by little, and Phenicia presented only the sad spectacle of pagan and Christian ruins. The Anti-Johnites celebrated the victory of polytheism. This news, brought to Cucus by the priest Constantius, who got there, moving from one refuge to another, despite the persecution of spies and hired killers of Porfiry, saddened Chrysostom. The picture of these disasters tore his heart. “We must return there,” he told the Antioch priest, “we must return there at any cost!” And, taking a significant amount, which he had left in reserve for alms, he gave it to him. “Go,” he said, “and do not be afraid of anything from the evil ones. This can greatly help the cause of God. Let the monks from now on not suffer deprivation, let them be well fed and dressed in the same way as in their own monasteries, and let the shoes that they lack be bought for them; I want them to feel as good as in their monasteries; I also want part of this money to go towards the restoration of churches.” Constantius was a man of the same caliber as his friend. Despite the personal dangers, he did not hesitate and immediately went to become the head of the new enterprise. About the same time, an Antiochian citizen named Diogenes sent with his manager Aphraates a very significant sum of money. Chrysostom refused it, answering Diogenes: “I do not need it, but my Phoenician brothers really need it,” and he sent the money back with his servant. He did more: when, testing Aphraates, he noticed that he was a decisive and trustworthy man and would be an excellent missionary, he “recruited him into his army” and took an oath from him that he would join the preachers of the faith of Christ in Phenicia. And he “recruited” for this cause not only from among the people around him; the circle of his activities extended far. Thus, he entered into relations on the same subject with the hermits of the monastery of St. Publius in Zeugma, founded near the bridge over the Euphrates and famous in history for being the border point of the Roman Empire on this side of the river. This monastery, inhabited by Greeks and Syrians, consisted of two separate enclosures, had two separate abbots and a common church, where they served in both languages. Chrysostom wrote to both abbots, asking for auxiliary "troops" for his Phoenician army, and received it. One of their monks, Nicholas, who was a priest, wrote to Chrysostom that, before putting himself at his disposal, he would go to Kukuz to see him. “Don’t come,” the exile answered him, “Phenicia is waiting for you; if you came here, the snow could delay you.” Hieromonk Nicholas became one of the most zealous assistants of priest Constantius. Chrysostom was especially successful in recruiting monks in the Apamean diocese, in Syria, where there were a large number of monasteries. He attracted from there, among others, one priest named John, who, under the complacency of his disposition and under the sweetness of his persuasive speech, hid the heart of a hero. Chrysostom understood that he could be as useful for reconciliation as for action, and knew how to attract better than to force. The saint tried in every possible way to persuade him - and finally received his consent. This was a great victory for the conversion of Phoenicia. Chrysostom, in his letter to him, proclaims him “the commander of his army.” While detachments of Greek and Syrian monks, his second army, were setting off towards the Lebanese Mountains, Chrysostom sent a letter full of reproaches to the disheartened soldiers of the “first army”. Why is there such a breakdown in their mission? Why did they lack firmness and trust in his word and, most importantly, trust in God? “It is not at such a moment,” he wrote in sacred anger, “when the sea is swelling and an approaching storm threatens, that the helmsman leaves his ship; on the contrary, he calls on all his courage and tries to encourage those sailing by his own example. It is not when the fever is raging and reaches its highest degree that the doctor leaves the patient; on the contrary, then he resorts to the extreme measures of his art and to the help of others.” The slanderers, as he called those who opposed him, pointed out to the monks mainly their torment and hardships in order to turn them away from the holy cause; therefore he gives them the following assurance that henceforth they will not suffer any hardships; “If I, amidst misfortunes and trials, removed into the wildest desert, take care of you and abundantly supply you with everything you need, then how can you be afraid and so exhausted in soul?.. Be courageous, I repeat to you, get down to business again. Blessed Paul, being imprisoned, tormented by whips, bleeding, beaten into stocks, performed a sacred service amid all this suffering and baptized his prison guard.” These eloquent reproaches had an effect: the holy war resumed with bitterness, but the resistance was no less stubborn. The pagans, supported by the dislike of Chrysostom's enemies towards his cause, gathered in gangs and attacked the monks from all sides, killing many of them; and the enemies continually renewed their attempts, and Chrysostom continued to send brave “recruits” from the depths of Armenia. Among them was one priest, Rufinus, whom he found in some monastery in those wild provinces. This shepherd had a fearless heart, created in order to shine doubly in the army of the Lord: “It has come to me,” the saint wrote to him, “that Phenicia is again in blood and flame... Hurry there as soon as possible... Seeing the fire of your own house, you best understand the inevitability of danger.” Rufinus set off on the journey with new comrades he had acquired along the way. So many persistent efforts were finally crowned with success: the Christians gained the upper hand and managed to erect several churches, which were not only sanctuaries, but also places for uniting the “armies” of Chrysostom. To make a greater impression on the converted population, they wanted to consecrate them with the relics of the martyrs. Rufinus asked Chrysostom for them. “There are many of them,” answered Chrysostom, “in the city of Aravissa, not far from here - the bishop will give them to me.” And he sent priest Terentius, one of his banner bearers, to the Aravis Bishop of Otrey for the relics. Otrey was a kind and simple shepherd, for whom Chrysostom remained the luminary of the Church. He gave him what he asked for. Trusted people carried the holy burden through the Taurus and, what was even more difficult, through the provinces given over to schism. They took her to Phenicia. The presence of the relics of the holy martyrs had the desired effect - they made the Christians invincible, and the conquest began to consolidate... However, many more years were needed for it to spread throughout the entire country of Astarte’s worshipers, and until the very end of the 5th century, facts show many signs of paganism among the Phoenicians. But finally their country became Christian, and they always connected their conversion with the superhuman efforts of the exiled captive - St. John Chrysostom. “Bishop Chrysostom,” writes the historian Theodoret, “overthrew the temples of this pagan country, leaving no stone unturned!” A strange age when such miracles were performed! You can blame this time as much as you like, but no one will deny in the participants in those events, at least, courage, confidence in their work and faith, which made it so fruitful. Chrysostom's second apostolic enterprise took his thoughts far from the Euphrates, to the shores of the Cimmerian Bosphorus, to the Church of the barbarian country, of which he was also the patron - the Church of the Orthodox Goths. Among the large tribe of Visigoths, driven out by the Huns and coming to seek refuge in the lands of the Roman Empire, there were few Christians, but at least the Christianity they professed was Orthodox. Valens agreed to allow them to settle south of the Danube only on the condition that they and their bishop Ulfilas accepted the Arian Creed, which rejected the equality of the Father and the Son in the sacrament of the Holy Trinity. Ulfilas swore allegiance, and the Visigoths turned out to be completely faithful to the oath of their bishop, because when the Eastern Empire returned to the fold of Orthodoxy under Theodosius, the Visigoths did not follow his example. They remained Arians, fanatical Arians and, moreover, persecutors, which posed a double danger to the empire. On the one hand, they formed the core of opposition to the state religion, which served as a gathering place for apostates of Roman citizenship, on the other hand, they attracted to themselves, by persuasion or force, other barbarian tribes that settled in the empire, so that Arianism became the Christianity of the barbarians out of opposition to Orthodoxy, the state religion of the Romans. This double danger was already making itself felt in the times of Arcadius and Honorius. Therefore, in political and religious interests, it was necessary to try to return the Visigoths to Orthodoxy, or at least divide them in order to make them less dangerous. Chrysostom set about this with ardor during the peaceful days of his bishopric. First, he founded a church in Constantinople for the converted Goths, where he himself often served and preached with the assistance of an interpreter who translated his words into Gothic. Then, at the mouth of the Danube, but within the empire, he founded a monastery of Gothic monks, who for some unknown reason were called Mars, and, consequently, formed the second nucleus of the conversion of barbarian tribes to Orthodoxy. Serapion, the former deacon of Chrysostom, who later became the bishop of Heraclea, hid in this monastery during the first time of the persecution, avoiding the hands of the enemies of his former Lord. The Marsa monks loved the exiled archbishop and helped him. In addition to these two centers of Orthodoxy among the Goths within the empire, there was another, much more significant, outside its borders, among the tribes of the Cimmerian Peninsula. How it happened, whether it was a remnant of the previous accession of this tribe is unknown, but we see it in the 4th century connected with close ties with Chrysostom. Chrysostom appointed Bishop Unilu to this Gothic church, whom he himself called an amazing man. Relations between the clergy of this Church and the Archbishop of Constantinople were carried out through the monastery of the Marsi, who corresponded with the saint. At the height of religious discord in the East, when the archbishop was going into exile, Unila died, leaving the Gothic Church in complete disorder. The king of this people, unable to think of anything better than to ask for another bishop in Constantinople, sent a deacon, the Goth Moduarius, to the monastery of the Mars with a letter. Moduary, staying there, learned about everything that happened in Constantinople: about the deposition of Chrysostom and about his expulsion, he learned this from people who were friendly to the exile and who faithfully preserved their cordial disposition towards him. Great was the difficulty of Moduarius. The king's letter, in all likelihood, was addressed to Chrysostom. Should I take it to the impostor successor? – this was a matter of true bewilderment, and Moduary hesitated. Meanwhile, it was necessary for him to bring a bishop to the Cimmerian Goths, and it was necessary to hurry due to the difficulty of sailing in the Black Sea due to the approaching winter. Taking advantage of the deacon's hesitation, the Marsa monks notified Chrysostom about everything in a letter, which he received in Kukuza. Great was his anxiety at this news, because he loved the Church of the Cimmerian Goths as his daughter. Chrysostom hastened to write a letter to Olympias, which has reached us. He asked his dear deaconess to use all her influence and skill to postpone the appointment of a Gothic bishop if Moduarius was already in Constantinople. “Nothing encourages you to rush,” he wrote to her, “because the time convenient for sailing on the sea has already passed, you can wait until spring.” And it would be even better to send Moduarius to him, but secretly, without making any noise, so as not to in any way draw the attention of the schismatics to this, and they will both think and agree on a good choice. Chrysostom’s heart sank at the thought that at the head of this Church, about which he had cared for so long as a father, his enemies would place a man who would begin by renouncing communication with him, not understanding that his name could not be cursed by his own children. The saint felt very well the difficulty of success in this delicate matter, but he ended his letter with these words: “You must do everything you can without thinking about failure. The Lord looks at our heart, and not at the success of our actions.” And indeed, this matter has become very complicated. Olympias, herself condemned to exile, could not deal with him, and Moduarius, authorized to take the bishop to his king, of course, grew impatient due to the delays. Be that as it may, Chrysostom died without knowing the end of this story. The third plan, which worried the heart and mind of the former Archbishop of Constantinople in his Kukuz solitude, shows almost incredible courage. This exile, imprisoned in the extreme reaches of the Roman world, among predators and snows, began to dream of the conversion of Persia. He could not live there, on the border of this glorious paganism of the magicians, without being indignant at the stories about their superstitions - he began to be haunted by the thought of expelling these deceiving priests, exposing their lies, extinguishing their unholy fire and planting the Cross of Christ in the palace of the great king. As soon as this thought finally took possession of him, he began to look for executors, brave, tireless, and did not hesitate to turn to one bishop who declared himself his enemy at the Council in Oak - at the cost of this their reconciliation was supposed to occur. This bishop was none other than Marutas, one of the judges of Archbishop John, whose bound sandal crushed the foot of Cyrinus at the Chalcedon conference. Persia was not completely closed to Christian preaching. Some success was acquired during the life of Constantine by the courageous initiative of one hermit named Simeon of Nisib. But the fire worshipers soon gained the upper hand again, and the persecution of Sapor destroyed these beginnings of the Christian faith for half a century. A chance circumstance called them back to life. Emperor Theodosius needed to negotiate with the king of Persia, on what matter - it is unknown, perhaps on the delimitation of possessions, and he chose as ambassador one priest from the province of Sophene, located on the very border of Mesopotamia and Persia. The envoy was a simple but shrewd man. While negotiating the matter that was entrusted to him, he made observations of the religious life of the Persians and noticed that the seeds of Christianity had not disappeared so much that they could no longer be resurrected. Prompted by this thought, he entered into the confidence of the king and ensured that the remains of the Persian Christians tortured during the reign of Sapor were given to him. Thus, he collected a huge number of remains, which he transported to a church founded north of Amid, on the Nymphaeum River, bordering both nations. Houses were built around this church, like around a fortress founded for religious conquests, and a town called Martyropol was formed there. This town chose a priest as its bishop, to whom it owed its foundation. This priest was Marutas. Marutas, without any malicious intent, could easily have sinned in the theological subtleties with which he was entangled at the Council in Duba, but he possessed a powerful weapon for preaching Christianity - that faith that captivates hearts. The somewhat rough simplicity of his appearance contained nothing that could offend the feelings of his Persian neighbors. Little by little, the population fell in love with him, and since he also indulged in medical practice, he was lucky enough to provide some assistance to King Izdeger in his illness. They said that Marutas even managed to cure with his prayers the royal heir, who, according to him, was possessed by a demon. It goes without saying that this successful healing brought him favor at court. Izdeger could no longer do without him, and Marutas received hope that sooner or later the great king would accept Christianity. The magicians, for their part, looked at him not without fear, and in order to put an end to the beginning of the conversion, they formed a conspiracy that was to be crowned with success in their main church, in front of all the people and in the presence of the sovereign. And indeed, at that moment when, according to the ritual, the king was supposed to approach the sacred fire, a voice was heard from the flames that he should be expelled as a wicked man who had given himself over to the seduction of a Christian. Izdeger retreated in horror and left the church. But Marutas, suspecting some kind of deception, advised him to dig up the ground in the place where the voice came from, and there they found a dungeon with skillfully placed vents. The king's doubts were dispelled, and he severely punished the magicians. However, his good disposition in favor of Christianity was more apparent than real; at least it was short-lived, because history reports that he tainted the end of his reign with a bloody persecution, which was continued by his son Bagram. Chrysostom conceived his “conquest of the Persians” at a time that can be called favorable for conversion, i.e. in 405. He needed Marutas, and, despite his reluctance, Chrysostom decided to establish relations with him. This bishop was a complete ignorant in matters that led to the division of the Eastern Church. Marutas was unable to respond to the step taken towards him by such a person as Chrysostom, who did not want anything from him except an alliance for the spread of Christianity. Marutas set out from Martyropol for Constantinople at the end of 405, bypassing Kukuz. Chrysostom was very upset by this and, in order to dispel the mistrust of his former enemy, wrote him a letter to Constantinople on Persian affairs, inviting him to reconciliation for the benefit of the common cause. Marutas did not answer him. The archbishop's second letter was no more successful: Marutas was rebelled against him. Driven out of patience by the silence of this man he needed so much, Chrysostom turned to his dear missionary Olympias, asking her to find him and do everything in her power to bring him to agreement and deliver him “from this abyss” - an expression with which he denoted the alliance of his enemies. “Make him come to me,” wrote Chrysostom, “I need him for my plans regarding Persia.” He hoped that with her personal influence and convictions the venerable deaconess would persuade Marutas to stop at Kukuz on his way back to Mesopotamia, and that then he, Chrysostom, would easily cope with this stubborn and limited mind. But Marutas’ rancor was adamant. It is unknown what would have happened in the Sassanid monarchy under the leadership of such a leader as the Kukuz exile, with the means of communication that he had at his disposal, and with the monastic army, ready to come out from the border monasteries at his call. Judging by what they were doing in Phenicia at that time, it can be assumed that the religious conquest of Persia, according to the plan drawn up by a man of genius, would have greatly advanced. It would be too bold to suppose that this vast kingdom would have been converted to Christianity: the Magian class was too powerful, and the fire-worshipers had many means at their disposal to inspire the savage population against those whom they called "worshippers of wood," but at least the powerful enemy of the Roman Empire would have been divided, and who knows what consequences his conversion, even partial, might have had on Christianity at the time of the appearance of Mahomet? Tell me, what happened to the tyrants who once tried to suppress the Church? Tell me, where are their dungeons, their fires, where are the teeth of their wild beasts and the sharpened swords of their executioners? They wanted to act, but did nothing. The same silence and the same oblivion always cover the tyrants and the arsenal of their crimes, but what about the Church? It shines brighter than the sun throughout the Universe, and if tyrants could not strangle faith when Christians barely existed, how can they hope to do so now when Christians cover the entire earth? Sometimes, during the days of torment, they saw unimaginable cruelties to which some young girl, almost a youth, was subjected, and how this girl was stronger than the horns of torture and the sting of flame. Iron teeth tormented her sides - her faith remained unshakable. How do they want to frighten a whole people?.. Oh, they don’t know us at all! There is only one evil - this is sin, and there is no other good except virtue, everything else, happiness or misfortune, no matter what it is called, is just smoke, ghosts and dreams...