Книга третья (401–403 г.)

Long brothers. – Patriarch Theophilos of Alexandria. – His struggle with the great stranger Isidore, who is supported by the Long Brothers. – Theophilus accuses the Long Brothers of Origenism. – Invasion of the Patriarch on the Nitrian monasteries; the robbery and fire of these monasteries; their monks are scattered. – Long brothers go to Constantinople to seek justice. – On the way they are pursued by the machinations of Theophilus. - Their meeting with Chrysostom, who asks for pardon from the patriarch. – The Patriarch refuses. – The long brothers bring the Patriarch’s abuses to the Emperor’s attention. - Arkady convenes a Council in Constantinople. - Epiphanius, Bishop of Salamis, was deceived by Theophilus. – His position in Constantinople in the face of Chrysostom. – Violation of the ecclesiastical rights of a bishop by Epiphanius; Serapion forbids him to enter the church; the old bishop loses heart. – His departure and death. - Speech of Chrysostom against the Empress. - The anger of Eudoxia and the entire court. In the country of monasteries, which occupied the Nitrian desert with the annexation of part of the Skit region, between the Nile Valley and the Libyan mountain range - in a country inhabited by cenobitic monks and hermits, where the cities were monasteries, and the hermits were farmers, there lived four people, well known throughout Egypt under the nickname of the Long Brothers. They owed this strange nickname to their tall stature, which further increased their extreme thinness, a consequence of their inexorably harsh lifestyle. The almost infantile simplicity of these sons of the desert was combined with the extraordinary clarity of their minds and deep knowledge. Students of that great Alexandrian school, where Didymus the Blind continued teaching Clement and Origen, they, one might say, had a single desire and breath, so much so their feelings and behavior were invariably consistent. And since they actually constituted one, they liked to unite all four of them with the common nickname of the Long Brothers. The Alexandrian patriarchs always respected them very much. Saint Athanasius, going to Rome in 341, took with him Ammonius, the eldest of the brethren, from the Skete monastery, and in the eternal city they long remembered the good monk, who, sighing amid the capital's splendor for the desert, did not want to see any capital miracles except the tombs of the Holy Apostles. When the “exile” of Saint Athanasius ended, the “exile” of Ammonius also ended - he said goodbye to the world in order to bury himself again in the terrible desert, which was paradise for him. Theophilus, the third successor of Saint Athanasius, following the example of his predecessors, tried to acquire the friendship of the Long Brothers, who were the glory of the Nitrian monasteries, which in turn were the glory of all Christian Egypt. He wanted to attach them to himself as a means of popularity and an instrument of his activities and pestered Ammonius in particular, wanting to make him one of his bishops. Having encountered resistance to his advances in a simple-hearted monk who had disappeared into the desert at the first word about the bishopric, Theophilus sent to kidnap him and force him. Such actions were not uncommon in those times when, despite the depravity of the white clergy, selflessness reigned among the monastic clergy. Ammonius, who was awaiting this decision of the patriarch, had already taken his precautions: when Theophilus' agents appeared, he showed them his ear, which he had cut off for himself, and the wound of which had barely closed. “You came in vain,” he told them, “because I am a voluntary cripple, and such people cannot join the ranks of the clergy: this is prohibited by the charter.” Having said this, he entered his cell, proud as if he had won a victory. In this way Ammonius escaped the bishopric. The third brother, Euthymius, summoned under some pretext to Alexandria, was attracted to episcopal rule by a special order of the patriarch, but, taking advantage of the favorable circumstance, broke these ties and escaped into the depths of the Libyan desert. The fourth, Eusebius, declared himself no less unsociable. Only one of the four conceded. It was Dioscorus, the second brother, who allowed Theophilus to install him as bishop of the diocese of Lesser Hermopolis. However, this sad and waterless diocese contained only cells, as well as the monasteries of Nitria and Skete - it was called a mountain diocese. The hermit Dioscorus, accepting her, did not change his life at all, and he was more often found in his former refuge than in Little Hermopolis, whose modest appearance also little corresponded to the dignity of the episcopal residence. The four brothers were connected by close friendship with the great figure of the Alexandrian Church, the host Isidore. This friendship began during the journey of Saint Athanasius to Rome, where Isidore, together with Ammonius, was under the patriarch. His long brothers saw him often, and the stranger often resorted to their wise advice in difficult cases of his reign, for he had to struggle a lot with the autocracy and passions of his bishop. Since Theophilus took an important part in the church strife of his time, it is necessary to get to know this person in more detail in order to understand by what combination of strange circumstances he could appear from Alexandria on the great stage of Constantinople and converge there with John Chrysostom - like Satan with Job in the biblical narrative bearing the latter’s name. Theophilus was known among his contemporaries as one of the greatest theologians, but at the same time one of the most evil people of the century. Possessing extensive knowledge, the fruits of the teachings of the Alexandrian school, active, intelligent, cunning, as deftly avoiding difficulties as he was attacking others, he also had vices that made him a decidedly universal scourge. Science was for him nothing more than a means to satisfy ambition or hatred, mental acuity was an instrument of evil intentions, all activity was a threat to every person and every teaching if they cast a shadow on his autocratic claims. Personal gain was his only law. He treated the bishops of his department decisively as slaves who could be dismissed or temporarily removed without explanation, without mercy, at the slightest suspicion of striving for independence. And beyond the limits of his power, cunningly inserting his hand into the affairs of his neighbors, he became a judge of foreign bishops - a dangerous judge, because behind him was the authority of a scientist, and the excommunication he carried out always caused horror in some, doubt in others. No theologian of the 5th century was better able to create heresies out of ghosts than he. Therefore, the excommunication received from him was almost always disastrous. He also became a thunderstorm in the dioceses of Palestine and Syria, where many bishops submitted to him as the patriarch of the entire south of the empire. Within the limits of his archiepiscopal power, he was not content with appointing and removing bishops: he changed the dioceses themselves, destroyed the old ones, created new ones, extended or reduced their boundaries at will or for the benefit of his power. For the slightest resistance of his priests or monks, he brought them to the punishments of the secular court - to chains, prison, exile, and the secular authorities did not dare to refuse him their assistance, because he had great influence with the Emperor and with the court officials, whom he bought with gold. “He kept spies in Constantinople,” says Palladius, “on salary, with the help of whom he knew everything that was happening there,” - for the most part, he determined the prefects of Alexandria in such a way that the prefect, during his administration, did not forget which bishop he had to deal with. This omnipotence in two spheres, spiritual and secular, earned Theophilus the title of Christian Pharaoh. So, his lust for power was sufficiently satisfied. But he had another passion, no less strong - greed. Theophilus' greed was terrible. He loved money for its own sake, he loved to hoard it, he loved it for the ostentatious luxury that contributed to his influence, he loved it, finally, in order to bribe, harm, spread his power, and he invented strange means of acquiring money, not only without condemnation from the Church, but also with glory in her eyes, brazenly bringing religion itself into complicity in his thefts. The policy of the Roman emperors after Constantine was, without exerting violence, to allow pagan temples to close by themselves and the ancient gods to fall from decay - due to the apostasy of their admirers. Even some wise decrees protected these ancient monuments from destruction and plunder, often carried out under the guise of Christian zeal. This is how the Egyptian churches were preserved, the fabulous riches of which remained almost untouched. These riches inflamed Theophilus' greed. According to one writer, he was the first to trample upon the laws of tolerance and respect for the traditions of centuries, and the very manner in which he waged this religious war sufficiently shows that religious jealousy was neither the only nor the main motive of his actions. And in fact, his choice fell entirely on churches known for their wealth, which could generously reward his zeal, such as the Church of Canopus, against which he personally launched a predatory raid. He also did not calm down until he plundered the Serapium in the very heart of Alexandria, whose riches were countless and which was considered the most magnificent church in the world after the Capitol. The Serapium, entirely built of marble, was lined on the inside with a triple layer of metal: copper, silver and gold. Statues overlaid with gold, votive gifts of precious stones and solid gold were found there in abundance. The patriarch undertook a siege against this temple together with the prefect and the military commander; he demanded their assistance because the pagans, apparently, were trying to defend this last refuge of their faith. Everything was plundered, and the patriarch, hiding behind religious feelings, hid the golden idols. If you believe modern writers, he did not disdain these idols; he collected them in large quantities and hid them in the cellars of his episcopal palace. This is how Theophilus's treasures accumulated. Christians did not complain much about these thefts, covered with a mask of religious enthusiasm, but they endured with less patience those that were directed at church or their private property. And indeed, Theophilus showed impartiality, rare in relation to sanctuaries, no matter what cult they were dedicated to, as long as they were rich - and, without using violence against the churches of his department and Christian hospitals, he robbed Christian churches with no more discernment than pagan ones. No amount, not even collections for the poor, escaped his predation. With him was a sister who shared his passion for gold and, for her part, extorted, as much as she could, alms and bequests in favor of the Church or in favor of the sick. She did this with the help of “temporary wills”, the contributions of which she appropriated to herself. Her tricks became public in Alexandria, and when a cruel illness struck her at a blossoming age, everyone saw this as heavenly punishment. Theophilus used the fruits of these thefts partly to introduce a magnificent environment into his bishopric, capable of eclipsing the luxury of secular officials, and partly to build churches. While erecting beautiful churches, he made a lot of noise with these buildings, always faithful to his vile system of covering up an evil deed with the glorification of God and his service. The hermit, famous for the holiness of his life, Isidore of Pelus, depicted in words filled with genuine sorrow the fall of Egyptian Christianity under the rule of such a shepherd: “Egypt,” he said, “has returned to its former lawlessness, it rejects Moses and takes the side of Pharaoh. He scourges the weak and depresses the mourning, he builds cities and deprives the workers of their earnings. This is what he produces under the pastoral rod of Theophilus, an ardent friend of precious stones, a zealous admirer of gold.” Another contemporary adds that the Patriarch of Alexandria extended his revenge to blood and murder, and a third characterizes him this way: “He loved only the evil and patronized them, leaving persecution for the good.” One day, in 402, a rich matron appeared to the great stranger Isidore with a bag full of gold, and, prostrating herself at the feet of the old man, said to him: “This is a significant sum that I assign to strangers and the poor. Swear the most terrible oath that you will not allow Theophilus to use a single obol from it. I prefer the creatures of God who suffer to the creatures of stone that the patriarch erects on their tears.” And the woman hugged the elder’s knees until he uttered the oath she demanded. Then she stood up and handed him the money. Elder Isidore was a strict, honest man who managed economically the contributions of public charity, but who could not always be the master of his business under such an autocratic and insatiable bishop. Strengthened by an oath, he did not say a word to Theophilus about what had happened. But the matron was less modest, and after some time this incident became the subject of talk throughout the whole city. The Patriarch was inflamed with mortal hatred of the great host, whom, however, he did not dare to displace. After some time, the same Isidore was involved in one matter, which should have been even more sensitive for the vanity of his ruler. One inheritance was bequeathed to the church of Alexandria through the mediation of the bishop's sister, as often happened, and it seems that there were ambiguous expressions in the will. Theophilus took advantage of this ambiguity to explain the will in favor of his sister. “The gift is intended for her,” he said, “and not for the Church: during the life of the testator she received a verbal promise in the presence of the great stranger.” Isidore, called as a witness, declared in all conscience that he had never heard anything like this and that he knew absolutely nothing about this matter. From then on, his death was a foregone conclusion. But what accusation could be brought against this elder, a former friend of St. Athanasius, whose honesty was, without a doubt, so great that the donors hid from the patriarch, transferring to the stranger the amounts assigned to the poor? Theophilus came up with more than one slander, each of which was dispelled due to lack of evidence. In one of these false cases concerning church governance, he referred to the testimony of the Long Brothers - just as he had previously referred to the testimony of Isidore in favor of his sister, but he met the same rebuff from these honest monks. After listening to their friend's accusations, they exposed the lie and swore that they did not know a more worthy person in all of Egypt. The Patriarch, who believed that the Long Brothers would not leave his will, appreciating the signs of favor with which he always showered them, was at first embarrassed by their answer, then began to insist and demanded that they testify according to his words. They indignantly refused, and Theophilus had four more enemies, whom he later destroyed along with his host. It was difficult to recognize these hermits, who did not live in the world and who were considered a model of ascetic life in the desert, as criminal, worthy of excommunication. To strike them, Theophilus resorted to a weapon that he reserved for last resort - the accusation of heresy. This is where the life of the Long Brothers and Patriarch Theophilus is connected by close and fatal ties with the life of John Chrysostom. That was the time of the most powerful debate about Origenism, begun in Bethlehem by Blessed Jerome, and in Jerusalem by Epiphanius, Bishop of Salamis of Cyprus; disputes about the degree of authority of Origen as a dogmatist, i.e. about what should be accepted or rejected in the opinions of this great Alexandrian philosopher and Christian theologian, who for the first time tried to express the Christian worldview in a systematized form. His teaching was mainly devoted to issues of apologetics of Christianity. Of his provisions, the most daring, some, a century and a half after his death, were condemned by the Church at the V Ecumenical Council in 553, others gradually disappeared thanks to the success of exegesis and the canonical definition of dogmas at the Councils. Nevertheless, the teaching existed, although modified, and the name of Origen lived on as the founder of the mystical interpretation of Holy Scripture. Christians respected his creations without fanaticism, accepting one and rejecting another, each according to personal taste, but in the East, and in Egypt in particular, this choice was not made without controversy and strife. The situation that gave rise to the most controversy on the banks of the Nile concerned the incorporeality of God. God, as a pure Spirit, could not, according to Origen, have a form. The Being of beings, the Source of life in the physical world, the Source of goodness and truth in the moral world, He took on a certain image only on special occasions, when He wanted to appear to people. For minds accustomed to a literal interpretation of the Old Testament, who did not comprehend anything outside it, Origen's God was devoid of personality. “The Bible says,” they said, “that God created man in his own image and likeness. Holy Scripture often mentions the eyes, ears, hands of God, his anger, repentance. So God resembles a man and has flesh.” This was the conclusion reached by some monks, to whom the Origenists gave the name anthropomorphites, i.e. people who recognized a humanoid God. Anthropomorphites, on the contrary, called the Origenists atheists. In remote monasteries and hermitages, anthropomorphism made such progress that the Patriarch of Alexandria considered it his duty to take measures against a double danger: for faith and reason. So, Theophilus imposed an anathema on the supporters of this childhood belief and, in the heat of a religious dispute, accused of anthropomorphism and heresy anyone who did not revere Origen and did not declare himself his follower. Thus, Jerome, the great Jerome, who began the fight against Origenism in Bethlehem, received one of these curses, which the almighty Patriarch of Alexandria sent out right and left, and Epiphanius, who rejected the teachings of Origen in the East, saw himself accused by the Patriarch’s District Epistle to the Churches of Egypt, Palestine, Syria and, moreover, to the Church of Rome, as “an anthropomorphite and ignoramus." Such was Theophilus’s jealousy towards Origen at this time, i.e. in the last years of the 4th century. In addition to excommunicating two such men as Jerome and Epiphanius, he took such strict measures of intolerance against the anthropomorphite monks of his diocese that they opposed him. Having gathered one day in Alexandria, they approached the archbishop's house for explanations. Theophilus came out to them, as if to welcome their safe arrival. “Likeness of God,” he exclaimed in a loud voice, “I salute you.” All their anger fell at these words. The monks, a minute before filled with rage, almost strangled the patriarch in their arms. The simple-hearted “likenesses of God” immediately returned to their cells in delight that they had a patriarch who was of one mind with them on such an important issue, and especially happy that they had turned him to the true path. Meanwhile, he had not yet been converted. But the time of “conversion” was not far off, and the Long Brothers could take credit for this with more justice than the monks who have just been described. Faithful students of the Alexandrian school, they preached in the Nitrian and Skete monasteries eclectic Origenism, similar to the Origenism of Theophilus himself: rejecting errors, accepting reasonable or great thoughts, and above all, the incorporeality of God. The abbots of the monasteries and all the more or less enlightened among ordinary monks shared this teaching. Origen was read in monasteries, commented on, and some of the Long Brothers wrote treatises on this sensitive subject that were recognized by the Orthodox. Nevertheless, agreement seemed to abandon these pious deserts; anthropomorphism with its crude intolerance penetrated them, despite the sanity of the abbots and the cruel excommunications of the patriarch. Not without surprise they heard in Nitria and Skete that Theophilus spoke differently, that he entered into relations with the anthropomorphites of the monasteries, and that in a letter to them he declared that according to the exact meaning of the Holy Scriptures, one can assume that God has a voice, eyes, lips and body, because the Bible says so, and the Bible is the most reliable source of truth. In this message he strongly rebelled against atheists who dared to deny the personality of God. There was a clear change of opinion here, quite unexpected, but which was soon explained. Encouraged by his explanation, and also excited by secret intrigues, the anthropomorphites became more and more defiant, and, in the words of one contemporary, “the war lit its lights in the kingdom of peace.” Meanwhile, Elder Isidore, removed from his position as the great host and sentenced by the local Council to penance with the patriarch, came to seek refuge in the Skete. Convinced of his innocence, former comrades of solitude flocked to meet the old man and support his courage. But Elder Isidore, seeing again the places where he had previously lived in the happy days of his youth and where he was returning now, struck by excommunication due to an unjust judgment, fell into gloomy despondency. The long brothers, worried for his life, went to petition the patriarch for forgiveness and the return of their friend to the fold of the Church. The Patriarch promised - and did nothing. They renewed their attempt, and Ammonius, who spoke on behalf of all of them, with holy courage demanded from the bishop that he fulfill his word: “For,” he said, “you promised us.” The Patriarch, irritated by such insistence, shouted that he was being insulted and, calling the soldiers who were guarding him, ordered them to take the impudent monk to the city prison. The soldiers obeyed, but the other three brothers declared that they would not be separated from Ammonius, that if he was sent to prison, then they wanted to follow him there. They escorted the convoy through the streets to the place where the criminals were imprisoned. The inhabitants, who were well aware of the ardent charity of the Long Brothers, at first believed that they were going as usual to give alms to the prisoners, but when it became known that they themselves were prisoners, a very strong movement took place in the city. Large crowds of people gathered in front of the prison, and persons of the highest circle went to the dungeon to see with their own eyes and hear with their own ears what it all meant. Alarmed by this noise, Theophilus notified the four brothers that he would allow them to leave the prison and come to him for an explanation. “No,” they answered the messenger, “we will not leave here, let the bishop himself come to explain himself to us.” The situation was becoming difficult. Theophilus ordered the stubborn people to be forcibly pushed out into the street, and the explanation took place later, when he considered it necessary. It was distinguished by the same passion with which he greeted them on their first date. Insulted at being treated like criminals in front of the whole city, the Long Brothers, not forgetting the respect they owed to their bishop, addressed him with such a word as can only be heard from people convinced of the justice of their cause, fearing nothing in the world except God. Ammonius, their usual interpreter, spoke calmly and with dignity, setting out the reasons for their action and showing the shame of the bishop's behavior. While he was speaking, Theophilus’s face changed, now turning pale, now blushing, and feverish anger shone in his eyes. Then, unable to restrain himself any longer, he rushed at the monk, grabbed him by the throat, as if intending to strangle him and, holding his breath with one hand, struck him in the face with the other with such force that blood flowed from his mouth and nose. Continuing to beat, he shouted in a frantic voice: “Oh, you heretic! Curse Origen! This name, uttered for the first time as a point of accusation before them, amazed the Long Brothers. This was the explanation that Theophilus desired. Then calling upon a detachment of soldiers to help, he ordered the four monks to be put in chains and taken in this form to Nitria. According to some sources, the patriarch riveted the chain around Ammonius’ neck with his own hands. The entire community was greatly embarrassed when it saw these unfortunate people brought to the monastery under guard and covered in blood. “They asked themselves,” says Palladius, “what other new trials and punishments did the Lord ordain for the sons of repentance.” They soon found out this too. Soon a command came from the patriarch, in which he bemoaned the corruption of the faith in Nitria and ordered that all the books of Origen and his followers, no matter how many of them were found in monasteries and cells, be burned immediately and that if the execution of this order meets resistance or delay, the patriarch will arrive in person and order it to be carried out with him. The hermits understood the threat hidden under these words. Theophilus wanted to offend the abbots, as people who were more independent than simple monks - this was a warning addressed to them. With the help of promises and money, he organized espionage in honest and holy refuges, revered throughout the whole world under the name of the city of the Lord, through which he knew from day to day, from hour to hour, what the brethren were doing. History has brought to shame five of these traitors, agents of Theophilus, informers on their comrades, an instrument of destruction of their monastery. “These were,” says the same Palladius, well acquainted with all these circumstances, “obscure personalities, without meaning and name, strangers in Egypt, who were never allowed into the assembly of the fathers, in a word, people not worthy of a single monastic degree, whom they would not even want to make as gatekeepers.” The worthlessness of these people did not prevent the patriarch from subsequently choosing from among them three deacons, a priest and a bishop, and even establishing a new bishopric for this despicable man, while at that time there was not a single vacant place in Egypt. When matters were thus prepared, the spies and the patriarch conspired on a new affair, which caused a lot of noise. On the appointed day, all five spy monks secretly left their cells and went to Alexandria, to the same church where the patriarch served. There, throwing themselves at his feet, with signs of feigned inner excitement, they presented him with a petition, which the patriarch knew very well, because he himself compiled it. He took it from their hands, and as soon as the service was over, he carried it to the prefect of Egypt and to the military commander of the province, asking their cooperation in the strict measures, the necessity of which, according to him, was set out in this petition. The authorities, having read the petition, were not slow to place at his disposal a fairly large detachment of troops, to which the patriarch added the servants of the episcopal palace and a gang of villains (that’s what history calls them), the usual associates of his unexpected attacks. All of them made up a small army, which he equipped hastily and secretly, not forgetting to give the soldiers plenty to drink: at the time of departure they were all drunk. The bishop at their head, as a commander, set off on a journey to Nitria. He planned his stops so that he would be in the monasteries only by nightfall, and thereby increase the surprise of his appearance. And indeed, it was already the dead of night when, with terrifying screams, the detachment climbed up the holy mountain. This pastoral visit, as history portrays it, presented a vivid picture of the plunder of the city. The besieging robbers broke down the doors of the monasteries, rummaged through the cells and, under the pretext of finding books, took into their hands everything that the monks could have. The monks hurried to hide in the most hidden places; most of them went down the slopes of the mountain along secret paths and scattered throughout the valley. Thanks to the darkness of the night, many abbots managed to escape. The long brothers lived behind the monastery fence in a small house divided into cells; compassionate souls called them from there and lowered them along ropes to the bottom of the cistern, the opening of which was closed with wood and mats. When the sun rose over the City of the Lord, a recent place of prayer and peace, it illuminated only rubble and debris. “The fierce boar,” says Palladius, “has devastated the abundant vineyard of the Lord.” The patriarch's ardent desire was to capture the Long Brothers, whose capture would be a trophy of victory for him, and there were no limits to his anger when he learned that they had escaped. Ordering to be brought to their hut, he forced them to destroy it to the ground before his eyes. Everything was scattered piece by piece by the soldiers, who destroyed everything down to the last wretched bed. They broke down the walls with a lever, collapsed the roof, and dug up the ground to make sure that there was no secret shelter there. The boy servant, left by the brothers to guard the house, was present at this spectacle in silent horror. Theophilus' anger finally took hold of the destroyers, deceived in their expectations - they took revenge for their failure: they piled heaps of grapevines in the middle of the hut and set them on fire. Everything was destroyed by fire. Among the objects destroyed was a collection of books, the treasure and pride of these good monks, as well as parts of the Holy Gifts, which they kept, following the custom of the ancient Church. All that was left was ashes. History tells that the patriarch, not content with the role of witness to this wild execution, himself gave the signal for its beginning and left no sooner than the last glow of the fire had gone out. The fugitive monks (about three hundred people), whom the Long Brothers managed to unite again, among them - abbots, priests, deacons and simple monks, gathered in a remote place in the desert, where they wanted to found a monastery, but, having learned that a new invasion was being prepared against them, they decided to leave this Egypt, which from now on did not provide them with either peace or rest. They intended to go to Syria, outside the authority of Theophilus, and from there - wherever God would lead. Having appointed a meeting place on the western shore of the Red Sea, on the border of Palestine, they dispersed once again, and each, as best he could, set off through the Nile Valley to the point of union. Meanwhile, the Council of obsequious bishops, convened by Theophilus in Alexandria, condemned them as heretics and rebels of the Church with a formula dictated by the patriarch himself and which included their excommunication. When the unfortunates reached the meeting place, out of three hundred who set off, only eighty were present; others were “stopped” on their way by despondency, weakness, illness or uncertainty about the future. Those gathered were mostly old confessors, inaccessible to the spirit of despondency and despair, some of them were already seventy-year-old elders, and the scars on their bodies, signs of the Arian persecution they suffered under Valens, testified to the courage of their spirit. These signs constituted pride among them and honor in the eyes of the whole world. Some showed marks of iron and fire on their chests, others showed marks of ticks on their bodies, and those who did not bear these glorious marks of the battle for faith bore marks of a harsh life. After consulting with each other, they decided to first go to Jerusalem, rest there for a while, and then to Constantinople, where they hoped to achieve (the unfortunates had no doubt about it) justice from the Emperor and patronage from Archbishop John Chrysostom. Having thus set out, full of faith, under the leadership of Elder Isidore and three of the Long Brothers (for Dioscorus was delayed by the duties of his bishopric), they said goodbye to the mountains dear to their hearts, to the hot sands and copper sky, which for them constituted all the charm of their native homeland. They set off without money, without any supplies. Alms supported them on their journey, and they found help everywhere, almost to the desert. Having entered Palestine, they found faithful everywhere who met them with food supplies and money. But the bishops showed themselves to be less compassionate. Many did not even allow them to stop within their dioceses, strictly ordering them to move on. Everywhere along the way, Theophilus's District Epistle was ahead of the unfortunate ones, declaring them excommunicated from the Church, heretics and warning the bishops not to enter into relations with them; Moreover, everyone knew well the inexorable temper of the Patriarch of Alexandria, and even most of the bishops outside the limits of his authority considered it prudent to avoid any conflict with them. Patriarch John of Jerusalem turned out to be better than others. Whether because he retained the old leaven of Origenism, despite his reconciliation with Jerome and the sudden change of Theophilus, or because the good fame of Ammonius and his brothers disposed him favorably, he received the fugitives with open arms. This good reception touched them so much that they asked permission to settle at least for a while in the Skitopol district, where they could find palm trees in abundance and live by making mats from their leaves. John was ready to agree, when he suddenly received a letter from Alexandria that cooled his good intentions. It was from the patriarch and contained the following words; “You should not, contrary to my will, accept Nitrian monks into your city, for they were expelled by me for their crimes. However, if you did it out of ignorance, then I forgive you. From now on, try not to have any more relations with people excommunicated by me, and beware of entrusting them with any church positions and allowing them to stay in your domain.” “If Theophilus in his impudent message does not call himself God,” notes Palladius on this occasion, who conveyed the contents of this letter to us, “then, in all likelihood, he hid this thought in the depths of his heart, daring to express himself in such a way. In addition, the letter was intended not only to John of Jerusalem, it was a District Epistle to all the bishops of Palestine who turned out to be at least somewhat merciful and hospitable to the Egyptian exiles. This comprehensive persecution in the language of Theophilus’s followers was called the “basilisk hunt.” So, Palestine turned out to be closed to the Long Brothers and their companions, the same should have been expected in Syria - everywhere they were afraid of a clash with such a dangerous neighbor as Theophilus. Pursued by fate, the brothers wanted only one thing - to get to Constantinople as soon as possible and put themselves under the protection of such a powerful bishop as Chrysostom. One of the harbors, Caesarea or Jaffa, provided them with a ship, and they arrived unhindered in the capital, where their appearance was something of a surprise. Although in the Byzantine capital, the home of all sorts of rarities of the East, monks were often seen - in all kinds of clothes and of all kinds of nations: Arabs, Syrians, Cappadocians, and Persians, but people from the Egyptian deserts were rare. Here there were stories about Nitria and Scete as almost fabulous countries. The appearance of these monks was news, their clothes also struck everyone’s eyes with their strangeness. Their legs and arms were naked, all their clothing consisted of the skins of desert sheep, with white thin fleece. These clothes were called millit. Of the 80 who set out from Egypt, only 50 now remained - fatigue and deprivation had stolen the rest. And these, despite their strong build, presented an exhausted appearance: their faces bore the imprint of the disasters they had suffered. Having rested in the harbor, they lined up in rows, with Elder Isidore and the Long Brothers at their head, and headed towards the archbishop's house, into which only the Long Brothers entered. Admitted to the archbishop, the Long Brothers, according to custom, prostrated themselves at his feet and outlined in brief words the events that led them to Constantinople and about which Chrysostom had only vague information through popular rumor. They added that they came to him to seek personal safety and representation from the Emperor against the violence of their patriarch, for whose punishment they appealed to the justice of the Sovereign. They drew up an indictment about this, which they presented to him. Chrysostom graciously ordered them to stand up and, asking them about the points of teaching that gave rise to differences of opinion, in a friendly conversation forced them to express their opinions on the most sensitive issues of Origenism. Brought up himself by the flower of Eastern teachings, he soon examined these pure hearts and discovered nothing in their faith that could justify the accusation of the Council of Alexandria and the excommunication imposed by the Patriarch. “I will take upon myself this matter,” Chrysostom told them, “and I will make sure that either another Council allows you, or the bishop voluntarily lifts the ban imposed on you. Rely on me for this...” As for the petition that they wanted to submit to the Emperor, he advised them not to do this, not to subject the head of the Church to secular court. “The business of the Church,” he told them, “is to judge the affairs of the Church; passing authorities do not care about disputes that relate to the service of God.” Dismissing them, he added: “Brothers, you will not fit in my house, because I do not have the right to accept to my table and under my roof people condemned and excommunicated until their condemnation is canonically destroyed and the ban is lifted, but I will place you in the cells of my Church of St. Anastasia, where my deaconesses will take care that you do not lack anything. For the same reason you cannot be admitted to Holy Communion, but in any case I allow you to share prayers with us in church.” Finally, the saint ordered them to live in solitude in the dwelling that he had assigned to them, to rarely appear on the streets of the city, and especially to maintain absolute silence about the reason for their journey, the favorable outcome of which should depend on the decision of the Council and on his own efforts, which could be harmed by outside interference. Having said this, he ordered the Long Brothers and their companions to be taken to the vast premises surrounding the Church of St. Anastasia, and, demanding the deaconess Olympias, instructed her to come to an agreement with the matrons of the city and deliver food and clothing to these unfortunates, deprived of absolutely everything. Chrysostom was greatly concerned about this event, because it could bring great reproach to the Church if an investigation and trial were started regarding everything that was told to him - the case of Isidore, the plunder of the Nitrian monasteries, the condemnation of the Long Brothers without hearing them, and, finally, the verdict of the secular court took place. There was not the slightest doubt about the sincerity of the Long Brothers, and, moreover, he knew Theophilus from experience as the opponent of an unscrupulous and skillful intriguer. He had to face him during his election to the throne of Constantinople: this Patriarch of Alexandria, then in the capital, in order to prevent the success of a man almost unknown to him, but whom he envied, used such machinations that could only be expected from the most inveterate enemy. He agreed to the consecration of John after his election, only on the secondary order of the Emperor and his minister Eutropius. Chrysostom was fully convinced that in the affairs of Nitria Theophilus deserved all the condemnation that he heard from the exiles, but at the same time the thought of the great bishop, the second in the Eastern world, sitting on the bench of the accused in the praetorium of a secular judge, outraged him against his will and affected him almost as if it were his own business. As soon as the hermits were settled in their cells, he took up a pen and, wanting to prevent what in his eyes was a reproach to episcopal dignity, he wrote to the Patriarch of Alexandria, imploring him to grant him, as his brother and son, pardon for the exiles in the name of the Church and the glory of God. “I tested the Nitrian monks,” the saint wrote in his letter, “and truly did not find in their teaching anything contrary to the right faith, but they lost their heads from grief; They want to report you to the Emperor and with this intention presented me with a petition, the submission of which was postponed only at my request. However, they refrained from this with regret, and I tremble lest they should resume their disastrous resolution at the first opportunity. Lift the ban from them of your own free will, have mercy on them - and everything will end. Otherwise, you will have to resort to a Council, which I will convene, or transfer this regrettable matter to the tribunal of the worldly court. I am waiting for your answer and would like to know what your opinion is about all this, so that I myself can choose the path of action.” In depicting the intentions of the Long Brothers in this way, Chrysostom did not make a mistake. He understood that these people, simple but firm to the point of stubbornness and, moreover, driven to despair by suffering, would not allow either caution or delay, and that, not having any means to satisfy them, he would inevitably let them out of his hands. Theophilus, for his part, especially hated Chrysostom, whose glory he envied and whose success he once tried to hinder, but whom, according to the church hierarchy, he was obliged to recognize as the elder. When reading this letter, wise in its content, moderate in form, but where the archbishop took upon himself the judgment of the people whom he excommunicated, declared them Orthodox after the test he had made and added that if pardon was not granted to them, then he, John of Constantinople, would convene a Council to resolve them, the arrogant patriarch trembled with anger, and the anger he had hidden was awakened. Reflecting on the reasons that could prompt this old enemy to accept some despised monks under his protection, he could imagine only two: the intention to harm him or agreement with the teachings of the excommunicated, and he recalled that at a time when he himself was an ardent Origenist, he considered Chrysostom among his like-minded people. This was a ray that illuminated his insidious mind, and from then on he conceived an extensive plan, entangling both the protected and the patron in one net. But for now he limited himself only to questions of church deanery and church law and answered Chrysostom this way: “I did not think that you could not know the decrees of the Council of Nicaea, which prohibit bishops from judging cases outside their district. If you don’t know them, then I advise you to get to know them and not accept the petition against me. If I have to be judged, then the bishops of Egypt should judge me, and not you, who are 75 days away from here.” The fifth decree of the Council of Nicaea indeed prohibited the bishops of other dioceses from entering into communion with members of the clergy and laity who had been excommunicated in their dioceses, and from giving them refuge, but it also added that it was necessary to ascertain whether the complainant had not been excommunicated due to bias or some other fault of the bishop, or as a result of some personal hostility. So, in the matter between the excommunicated Nitrians and their patriarch, the truth in all its severity was on the side of Chrysostom: in accordance with the meaning of the cathedral resolution, he wanted to investigate whether their excommunication was not the result of a mistake or personal vengeance. Theophilus pretended to attribute his intervention to gross ignorance of church decrees, and, wanting to fully show his contempt for Chrysostom and his patronage, he ordered the eldest of the Long brothers, who lived in his mountain diocese, to be taken into custody, where he was the comforter and support of those hermits who still remained there. The Patriarch, like the tyrants of ancient Egypt, sent Ethiopian slaves to Dioscorus, who drove him out of the church, and only then did the elder learn that he had been deposed. The church decree about this was not slow to come. Not only was the bishop of Hermopolis Minor deposed and excommunicated, but his diocese itself was abolished, as if the poorest see of Egypt had been profaned by the presence of this holy man on it. Dioscorus, freed from his sad bonds, secretly sailed from Egypt and united with his brothers in Constantinople. This “feat” of Theophilus complemented the meaning of the letter to Chrysostom and showed its true meaning. The Archbishop of Constantinople did not seem to feel the impudence with which Theophilus responded to his request, he even wrote to him again in order to return him to calmer feelings for the good of the Church, on the other hand, he inclined the Long brothers to reconciliation. These monks and their companions, tired of the slowness, sick, could hardly restrain themselves, moreover, a very sensitive loss embittered them: the great host Isidore was gone. This unwitting culprit of their disasters died at the age of 85, in one of the cells of St. Anastasia, which the archbishop had reserved for their stay. New events returned them freedom of action and freed the archbishop from all responsibility in the sad affairs of Nitria. An Egyptian ship from Alexandria arrived in the harbor of Constantinople with the embassy of the Patriarch to the Emperor. There were five sent: a bishop and four abbots, among them were some of the vile Nitrian spies, the instigators and instruments of all these misadventures - apparently, treason was soon rewarded. They brought a petition to the Emperor, which contained a request to expel from Constantinople, as dangerous people and capable of anything, fugitive monks excommunicated by their bishop and condemned by the local Council for heresy, sorcery, and rebellion against the Church and state. These "villains" were the Long Brothers and their friends. The accusation of sorcery, which slipped among others, was treacherously invented in order to attract the civil authorities to the destruction of these unfortunates. Indeed, magic was considered an insult to the Emperor, and for the most part was tried by special commissions, taking into account the fact that it was almost always mixed with power-hungry intrigues and conspiracies against the head of the empire. Therefore, the laws imposing punishment for this crime were characterized by merciless cruelty: it was either severe exile or death. To declare the Nitrian exiles a gang of sorcerers meant to arouse against them public hatred, the suspicion of the Emperor, the zeal of caresses and scoundrels. Moreover, the messengers were called to confirm their testimony before the imperial court. So that access to the palace would be easier for them, and the praetorium would be more favorable to them, they came with large sums of money and gifts of all kinds. The Patriarch of Alexandria had at court many bribed accomplices who were ready to assist him in all his plans. The relations of the Egyptian high priest with the government of the Eastern Empire were of a very special, exceptional nature. Alexandria fed Constantinople, just as Carthage once fed Rome, and the bishop, who controlled grain farmers, a transport flotilla, in a word, a large staff for food affairs, was in fact a very important political personality. A delay of a month, for two weeks, even for a week in sending food was enough to subject the residence of the Caesars, and even themselves, to starvation. The influence of the formidable patriarchs of Alexandria came out with all its force when, under Constantius, Saint Athanasius was accused of planning to cause a famine. In addition, the provision business in Constantinople was distinguished by almost the same numerous staff as in the Alexandrian pier - and these employees were almost all Egyptians. Therefore, the Patriarchs of Alexandria seemed to have at their disposal, in the very capital of the Eastern Empire, a large population - sailors, artisans, porters, all kinds of traders, concentrated in the coastal quarter and in constant communication with the fleet - a violent people, always taking part in the rebellions of the Byzantine mob and always ready to enter into church strife at the sign of their patriarch. History often presents the Egyptians of Constantinople as the “ringleaders” in the church unrest of the capital, as was the case, for example, during the struggle between Gregory of Nazianzus and the philosopher Maximus or during the accession to the see of John Chrysostom. This state of affairs gave the Egyptian high priest much more weight in the eyes of the imperial government than the archbishops of Antioch, Thessalonica and Caesarea; the rest was completed by Egyptian resourcefulness. Not content with the legal prosecution of the exiles before the Emperor, Theophilus's envoys spread the most shameful rumors about them in the city, and the disposition towards the brothers, previously favorable, was already turning against them. The poor monks could no longer appear on the street without having fingers pointed at them, calling them sorcerers. Having lost patience, they decided to answer the accusations, standing face to face with the accusers, and no matter how Chrysostom looked at it, they wrote a complaint in which, listing all the grievances they had suffered, they demanded punishment for the newly installed bishop and four abbots, Theophilus’s attorneys, as slanderers. Moreover, in this lawsuit they also included a complaint against the Patriarch of Alexandria, as the first and real culprit of slander. Then Chrysostom announced that he was breaking up with them forever. All this only served to the benefit of those who did not like the archbishop. They began to condemn him for the fact that he thus abandoned in danger the petitioners who came from the distant lands of the East to seek his protection, and that he sacrificed the cause of his guests because of the pride of the archpastor, who did not want another archpastor, no matter how criminal, to be judged by a secular court, even the court of the Emperor himself. And, on the other hand, they admired the courage of these honest people, who decided to destroy their last support rather than patiently endure dishonor. As sympathy passed over to their side, the archbishop's enemies took advantage of this to denigrate his behavior, and the misadventures of the Nitrian monks became the subject of his condemnation. It was argued that the monastery in which he hid them was in fact a dungeon, that they suffered cruel treatment there, and that when one of them died from deprivation and hunger (here, they probably meant Elder Isidore), Chrysostom refused to pay his last debt to the dying man. Perhaps this was partly the case, since the decrees did not allow him to commune people who had been excommunicated from the Church before the decision of the Council. The court encouraged this turn of public opinion by all means, and despite the machinations of Theophilus, Nitrian monks became fashionable in order to counteract Chrysostom. They were not only encouraged in their decision to seek justice from the Emperor, not only were they encouraged to submit their petition in compliance with all prescribed forms to the officials of the imperial praetorium, but, since they were slow in answering, they were even encouraged to resort to the help of the Empress herself, who, they were told, would direct matters as it should. And so, one day, when Augusta was expected for the liturgy in the Church of St. John the Baptist, on the outskirts of Hebdomon, the Nitrian monks went there with the Long Brothers at their head and lined up in the path of the empress. Eudoxia, surrounded by guards, arrived in her imperial carriage. The sight of this row of monastic petitioners puzzled her for a moment, then, recognizing them by their strange clothes and the tall stature of their elders, she leaned out of the carriage and signaled to the Long Brothers that she wanted to speak with them. As they approached, she said to them: “Bless me, brothers, and pray for me, for my children, for the Emperor, and also for the empire. I know your request, and I will try to have a Council convened as soon as possible to give you the satisfaction you deserve. Moreover, I wish that your patriarch will be summoned here to answer for the evil that he has caused you.” The long-time brothers and their companions left with joyful feelings. Eudoxia took into her hands the interests of the persecuted Nitrian people and literally attacked this matter with the determination of a woman who does nothing in vain. A few days had barely passed since the Hebdomon meeting when all the delays inseparable from judicial formalities had already been eliminated. The decree convening the Council was signed by the Emperor, and the judges were ordered to interpret the libel case against the sent Egyptians. Theophilus himself was summoned to trial, and, which especially testifies to the ardor with which Eudoxia took up this matter, which became her own, she sent one of her officials, named Elathius, to deliver to the Patriarch in his own hands, in his city of Alexandria, a double summons, which summoned him to appear before the future Council and before the face of the Emperor. The appearance of Elathius and this rapid turn of events, which turned the patriarch into an accused person, and those excommunicated by him into accusers, struck Theophilus like thunder. In all this he saw only Chrysostom’s skillful trick and revenge for the arrogant neglect with which he rejected his offer of reconciliation. Nevertheless, he managed to contain his anger. “Theophilus was silent,” says Palladius, “but his silence was ominous.” Elathius, received with the honor due to the one who sent him and to the commission with which he was invested, did not, however, receive any definite answer. The Patriarch referred to the duties of his administration and presented other excuses for not leaving immediately, but solemnly promised to be in Constantinople soon. That's all that Elathius could bring in response to the empress. And in fact, Theophilus, taken by surprise by the danger that threatened him, needed to gather his thoughts; he needed to come up with new intrigues against the one whom he considered his enemy - this needed time, and he immediately set to work. To save himself, regain the favor of the Emperor and destroy Chrysostom - this is the task, the solution of which now absorbed all his thoughts. As for the Long Brothers, he thought little of them; the importance of their cause disappeared before the thought of the great conflict about to open between the two oldest bishops of the East. No matter how much Theophilus pondered, it seemed to him that the quickest and surest way to defeat the enemy was to put him face to face with some person who had great weight in the Church with knowledge of church discipline and dogma, who, in the name of the trampled orders of discipline, would demand from Chrysostom an account of the patronage of the excommunicated, which he provided in spite of the bishop and the Council, would demand in the name of the Orthodox faith. So, the question of Origenism crept into the matter with all its poison - the Archbishop of Constantinople had to be placed in the position of a heretic at the same time as the Long Brothers. It was assumed that when the matter was given such a course, Theophilus would also appear in order for the hellish plan that he had conceived to be fully realized. But it was necessary to find such an influential person, and an honest one at that, who, out of ignorance, would direct all the power of his authority, his theological knowledge and all his zeal to serve the passions of another. Theophilus thought that he had found such a person in his former enemy, the venerable Epiphanius, Bishop of Salamis of Cyprus. Epiphanius was now at least 80 years old. In the life of this elder there were his heroic days when, devoting both his life and his fortune to the study of heresies, despising hunger, thirst, the ill treatment of people to study deviations from the faith of Christ, in the very depths of the Arabian deserts he held with a firm hand the chain of apostolic traditions, so often shaken in the East by the action of imagination and fantasy. But now, when Theophilus chose him, wanting to turn him into an instrument of hatred and strife, Epiphanius was no more than a shadow of the former Epiphanius. Old age, without diminishing his activity, weakened his mental ability. A spirit of self-confidence now prevailed in that noble soul, which had once burned with pure zeal for the house of the Lord. There was a kind of infantile simplicity in this man, modern historians testify to this, and Theophilus, making his choice, precisely counted on this simplicity, combined, however, with the passion of pride. At a time when, as the head of the Origenists, the patriarch had as his opponent the Bishop of Salamis, the head of the anti-Origenists of the East, he dealt with him as was his custom: impudently, calling him a liar, an anthropomorphite, and yet, despite this public insult, included in the pastoral letter and further strengthened by the threat of excommunication, his one word was enough to subjugate the former enemy to his will. Theophilus wrote to Epiphanius, when he needed him, that if his feelings on the dark question of Origenism had completely changed, if he saw light in this darkness and if the scales fell from his eyes, like the Apostle Paul, then he owed the saving reproaches of the Archbishop of Salamis, i.e. he attributed the honor of his conversion to this great teacher, the luminary of Orthodoxy. This humility should have flattered Epiphanius - and indeed it flattered him. The old bishop forgot about everything with joy that he had made a conversion to Orthodoxy, a conversion famous both for the fame of the convert and for the height of his rank. From now on, the Bishop of Salamis dedicated himself to the service of Patriarch Theophilus. This is how this man, who despised everyone, managed to turn the gray-haired old man into an ally, an unwitting executor of his evil intentions and almost a participant in the crime. The following letter was sent to Epiphanius. A Council was soon to meet in Constantinople to discuss the behavior of the Long Brothers, their theological opinions and the legality of the excommunication to which they had been subjected. Essentially it was the question of Origenism, solemnly raised in the capital for the first time in front of the Emperor, in the face of bishops gathered from all over the East. Who should lead the Council in its definitions? To whom should we expound dogmas to defend them against error? In this interweaving of philosophical subtleties and Christian half-truths, often found in the writings of Origen, who should direct the spiritual dignitaries, although very respectable, but ignorant, summoned to the Council from the Phrygian mountains, from Cilicia, Armenia and from the fields of Thrace? The darkness is thick and the path is slippery, because the Archbishop of Constantinople himself fell into error, thinking, perhaps unintentionally, to take the side of the Long Brothers. Was it not the sacred duty of Epiphanius, who first opened this battle, to bring it to the end, to offer the fruits of his knowledge to the Council, to clear the way for the provisions of true Orthodoxy, and finally to appear at the end of his days to support the Church in what he considered one of the greatest dangers threatening it? These were the thoughts that must have worried Epiphanius when he received a letter from the Patriarch of Alexandria in December 402. At least this letter hoped to arouse such thoughts in his mind. Theophilus sent him a copy of the acts of the Council of Alexandria, which condemned the Long Brothers, and asked him to compile himself or commission the Cypriot bishops, his disciples, to compile a code in which the confession of faith against Origen and Origenism would be clearly stated. This code, at his suggestion, should have been sent to all the bishops of Asia, Bithynia and Cilicia; he himself promised to take care of this and annex the acts of the Council of Alexandria and personal explanations regarding the excommunication of the Long Brothers. Theophilus also proposed that these documents be sent to the Archbishop of Constantinople, so that he could not make excuses, citing ignorance of both persons and teachings, if it were necessary to call him to account. The last thought was far from unpleasant for Epiphanius, for after he had brought the Patriarch of Alexandria to repentance, what glory awaited him if he had turned the Patriarch of Constantinople to the true path?! Theophilus's wish was fulfilled. The Bishop of Salamis of Cyprus, convening the bishops of his region to a Council, dictated to them a set of complete statements of faith against Origen and his like-minded people, then this synodal decree was sent throughout the East with the appendix of the district messages of both bishops. Since the archbishop of the imperial capital was too high a personality to be satisfied with the usual method of transfer, Epiphanius wanted to send one of his priests to him. The messenger had to not only hand over the papers to Chrysostom, but also verbally confront him with all the responsibility to which he was exposed by patronizing convicted heretics. However, the messenger of Epiphanius did not have to go. Theophilus, who had faster means of communication in the Alexandria harbor than could be had in Salamis, warned Epiphanius in order to annoy Chrysostom. He sent him the encyclical Epiphanius and both synodal decrees only with the following handwritten note: “The attached papers are very important. I invite you to reflect on them and not close your heart to the warning of St. bishop, whose decisions, like an oracle, are heeded by the entire Christian world.” Chrysostom, opening the papers and skimming through them, at first saw in what was sent only an invitation to take part in one of those theological disputes in which Epiphanius spent his entire life. Being by nature more inclined to the moral application of the gospel rules, he always showed little taste for debates, which reminded him of the schools of rhetoricians. “I really didn’t have enough of these trifles to worry my people, as if my duty was not to feed them with other food, preaching the word of God to them,” thought Chrysostom. Therefore, his first move was to throw away the papers he had received. But then, in thought, he re-read the letters more carefully. Reflecting on this strange reconciliation of Theophilus and Epiphanius, about this union of the wicked and the holy elder, Chrysostom, after some silence, said to the friends surrounding him: “These people want my deposition, but it will not be easy for them. I value my episcopal throne, because God himself gave it to me.” Then he added more gently: “The concern that is most dear to me will always be to fulfill one’s duty to the end. May I thereby earn forgiveness of sins and the salvation of my soul!” At first he thought of not answering at all, laying, as he said, on God the consequences of all this; later, however, he decided to answer, but briefly, modestly and without expressing displeasure. In his letter, he wrote that if the Council in Constantinople really should meet soon to discuss the subject about which both bishops, his brothers, deign to talk with him, then he will expect this debate. Is it appropriate for him, if a decision of the Church is to be made, to precede it with his opinion, condemning anyone or introducing novelty into the confession? He doesn’t think so, however, he thanks his brothers for their care of him. This answer angered Epiphanius beyond all measure: in prudent expressions he felt contempt, and since the Archbishop of Constantinople refused him the dogmatic authority before which the Patriarch of Alexandria bowed, he decided to go to Constantinople in person to reproach the archbishop in the face of his flock, returning him to the path of duty or deposing him, if that turned out to be necessary, strangling the heresy in the heretic. When Theophilus learned about this decision, which he did not dare even dream of, he was immensely delighted and allowed Epiphanius to go alone, while he himself remained. These preparations lasted until the end of February or the beginning of March 403 - the journey from Cyprus to Constantinople with strong winter winds, making sailing and crossing the Hellespont dangerous, was difficult and too far for the 80-year-old man. Nevertheless, Epiphanius completed the voyage without hindrance. But instead of landing at the main harbor, he landed in a bay, from where he could, bypassing the city, reach the Hebdomon suburb and the Church of St. John the Baptist, from where he made his arrival known. Since the time of Emperor Theodosius, the outskirts of Constantinople have constituted something of a neutral zone for various religious denominations. The Emperor removed the Aryan churches there, and other sectarians settled there, and the Orthodox priests also just retired there, breaking off communication with the archbishop. Perhaps, thanks to the patronage of the empress, this church remained open to them, and they made up the majority of its clergy, moreover, this clergy, who declared ardent hostility towards the archbishop, was replenished only by people of the same feelings. So, Epiphanius entered Hebdomon. Greeted in the Church of John the Baptist with almost triumphal solemnity, he celebrated the liturgy there and then served a prayer service, which was accompanied by a speech addressed to the people, and thus completed the service of that day. He had barely finished when they brought up to him a young man who asked to be ordained a deacon. Epiphanius was in a strange church, he served in it without the consent of the local bishop and thereby committed a strong violation of the church charter - and violated it even more by agreeing to consecrate this young man, whom he did not know at all and for whose tonsure he also did not have the consent of the bishop. But such considerations did not stop him: having accepted the scissors, which, according to custom, were presented to him on a silver platter, he took tonsure and pronounced the initiation formula. This was another recruit, who increased the number of Chrysostom’s enemies. After this, Epiphanius moved towards the city amid the same cliques that greeted his arrival. At the Golden Gate, through which Hebdomon communicated with Constantinople, Epiphanius was met by the clergy of the archbishop, who he sent to meet him when he learned about everything. Chrysostom himself stood in front of the episcopal palace to greet the Bishop of Salamis and invite him to stay under his roof. Epiphanius responded coldly to this invitation, saying that he already had accommodation provided to him by his friends; when the archbishop began to insist, Epiphanius said: “Listen, I will stay with you if you swear to me right here that you will not allow the Long Brothers to receive Communion and will impose a ban in your city on the writings of the heresiarch Origen.” “You are well aware,” Chrysostom calmly answered him, “that we are awaiting the upcoming Council, which should deal with these subjects; it is not appropriate for me to anticipate its decisions.” “And if so,” Epiphanius cried angrily, “I’m leaving,” and, abruptly breaking off the conversation, he gave a sign to be led to the house prepared for him by Theophilus’ agents. The next day, early in the morning, Chrysostom, wanting to prevent the impending rupture at all costs, sent several priests to him with an invitation to take part in the service in the archbishop's church. “I am ready,” replied Epiphanius, “but under one condition, which I set to your bishop yesterday and which he refused to fulfill. Would he agree today? The priests left silently. From that day on, the two bishops did not see each other again. Since then, Epiphanius’s home, like Evgrafia’s home, became a gathering place for Chrysostom’s enemies. Dissatisfied priests flocked there; Severian diligently visited him, once again taking off his disguise and shamelessly violating the peace he had sworn to. Antiochus of Ptolemais and Acacius of Verean occupied first places there with him. In addition to the supporters recruited in the city, they also recruited all sorts of priests from foreign dioceses and visiting bishops - the famous name of Epiphanius alone was enough to attract many visitors to this gathering, even those who did not take part in the conspiracy. We must do justice to the old bishop that, occupied with issues relating to Origenism and the excommunication of the Long Brothers, he took quite lightly the personal accusations with which the archpastor of Constantinople was persecuted. The false opinion that Chrysostom was an Origenist, that he communicated with the Origenists and in his teachings followed this heresy, against which Epiphanius published so many anathemas, is what brought him to Constantinople, and with which he was completely occupied, remaining indifferent to everything else. The meetings that were held with him consisted of conversations, often learned ones, during which the author of so many famous theological works revealed his extensive knowledge with all the more urgency because this question was little familiar to most of his listeners. He could notice this more than once: visitors who did not know the essence of the matter and who were attracted by pure love for the truth sometimes returned from there amazed at everything they heard. This naive amazement gave rise to one incident, which Chrysostom’s friends took advantage of and which greatly amused the pagans and indifferent people, always ready to laugh at everything. Among the people present there, the most inquisitive and sincere was one Goth. Raised in Greece, he converted to Orthodoxy there and was tonsured a priest, receiving the name Theotimus. His origins, which could have been beneficial, and his apostolic zeal prompted him to be elevated to archbishop of Scythia Minor, a province at the mouth of the Danube. Therefore, he lived in Tomi, the place of exile of Ovid, which in that century became a large market of the Huns and Goths and a place of Christian apostolate. Theotimus was not only a bishop, but also a doctor, and, when necessary, a trade intermediary between these savage peoples, who in certain days flocked to his city, and the Roman population, almost equally savage, living by trade or war with the barbarians. Fluent in foreign dialects, he recruited his flock at the bazaars, appearing there in semi-barbaric clothes, with thick and long Gothic hair flowing over his episcopal robe. He also invited converts to his house for large dinners, where he taught them the rudiments of the faith, because among these peoples, mainly the Huns, many important matters were “done” at dinner. More than once this good shepherd was cruelly rejected, many times his very life was in danger, but he patiently endured insults and avoided the blows of the sword. The most intractable of the catechumens, mainly the Huns, ended up believing in him and calling him the god of the Romans. This simpleton brought from Greece, among other books, some of the works of Origen. At times, when Theotimus was not galloping on horseback across the desert steppes or taking into custody some barbarian whom he intended to convert to Christianity, he unrolled the scrolls of his library, from which he studied the works of Origen with particular interest. Imagine his amazement when, in the house of Epiphanius, he heard an anathema against the “man of adamantium,” as the contemporaries of this idol Feotimov, in their reverence, called him. He remained silent, but in order to brilliantly reward himself. One day, when the conversation was again revolving around the same subject, the Apostle of Scythia Minor took out a scroll from under his dress and began to read it aloud. This scroll formed part of the works of Origen and contained passages that were impeccable in dogmatic terms, filled with sublime thoughts and fiery faith. The reading of one passage was followed by the reading of another - amid general silence. Then Theotimus spoke. “I don’t understand,” he exclaimed forcefully, “how they dare to encroach on the glory of a man to whom we owe a thousand similar things and even more wonderful than these, and how they declare him the son of Satan, the first heresiarch and curse him. If you come across places in his books that are worse than these, if you even find something bad, put it aside, discard the bad, choose the good. To condemn Origen unconditionally for certain errors is a vile and criminal matter.” This shepherd, in words as crushing as the sword of a Goth, expressed the same thing that Patriarch Theophilus later expressed, who at the time now described had not yet finally come to his view of Origenism: “Origen is a garden in which there are flowers of rare beauty and between them are thorns and brushwood. Therefore, I will not destroy the garden, I will remove the thorns, but I will rejoice in the flowers.” Theotimus's trick, having become known, aroused ridicule of Epiphanius in society. However, the affairs of the accomplices slowly moved forward. Since the Bishop of Salamis was surrounded only by clergy or secular people, already prejudiced against Chrysostom and confident in advance of his guilt, while Chrysostom, finding support in the people, seemed to neglect everything else, it was decided to also turn to the people. A few days later, a large solemn service was to be held in the Church of the Holy Apostles: here teachings in faith and speeches were usually delivered, in which visiting bishops participating in the service could take part. The leaders of the attackers decided to send Epiphanius there, so that the old bishop there, in the presence of the whole city, would talk about his journey. Let him set forth its cause and failure, let him say what fruitless efforts both Theophilus and he himself experienced, proving to Archbishop John that he was going and leading his people along the path of destruction, and how, drawn by mercy, he himself, Epiphanius, despite his advanced age, despised the dangers of the sea route in order to test the power of his word over the stubborn saint. Then let him follow the story of the excommunication of the Long Brothers and the Councils of Alexandria and Salamis, where the anathema was pronounced against Origen and the Origenists, then let him tell about the archbishop’s arrogant refusals to repeated verbal demands. In conclusion, let the speaker propose the solemn deposition of Chrysostom for the glory of God and for the salvation of the faithful of Constantinople, unless he immediately realizes his error and vows to repent. Such was the plan formed with the aim of striking a blow at the archbishop among his flock. As soon as this intention was accepted, they moved on to plans on how to ensure its success, gathering favorable listeners for this purpose, but rumors about this spread throughout the city. Chrysostom also learned about everything, who immediately measured the danger and, they say, exclaimed indignantly: “Either a madman or a demon possessed can dare to do such things...” And he gave his deacon Serapion the order to talk with Epiphanius about the violation of church order. On the appointed day, when crowds of curious people began to flock from everywhere, Serapion stood on the threshold of the door, awaiting the arrival of Epiphanius, who, in fact, did not hesitate to appear, accompanied by several of his supporters. Serapion stopped him. “Holy Father,” he told him, “listen to what my bishop and the bishop of this country has ordered to announce to you. You allow yourself to do many things within his Church that disagree with church decrees. First, without his permission, you made a dedication in one of his churches, then you are preparing to take possession of another to serve in it against his wishes. You act as if you are his bishop and do not pay any attention to him. He wants it to stop, and if you persist, he places the responsibility on your head for the unrest that may break out today.” Epiphanius did not expect such a decisive action. He did not find anything to answer immediately, except for the accusations against the archbishop and the curses with which he attacked the deacon, but, considering that, in fact, he was committing an important violation of church rules and, feeling that he was wrong, he quickly returned home. This first moment of reflection was followed by a frank discussion of his own behavior since his arrival, and he saw the abyss into which he was being pushed by the abuse of his passion for theological questions. And then Epiphanius decided to leave Constantinople as soon as possible, without waiting for Theophilus. He was in this peaceful mood when a visit to the Long Brothers finally dispelled his hesitation and decided to leave. A few days before, when the Emperor’s son, Tsarevich Theodosius, became ill, his mother, who revered the name of Epiphanius, sent to ask the bishop to pray for her child. “The child will live,” the bishop answered rather sternly to the messenger, “if his mother no longer patronizes heresies and heretics, as she did.” He was hinting at the Long Brothers. This stern answer troubled Eudoxia's heart. “The life of my son is in the hands of the Lord,” she cried out with sadness, “and He will do with him what is in His holy will! God gave it to me, God can take it. And this bishop does not have the power to resurrect the dead, otherwise he would have resurrected his archdeacon, whom he had recently lost,” but despite this philosophical reflection, the mother’s heart did not calm down, and Eudoxia, calling one of the Long brothers, ordered him to go to the Bishop of Cyprus and make peace with him. The order remained unanswered. The long brothers, after consulting with each other, went to Epiphanius’s house and suddenly appeared before the old man. Epiphanius had never seen them before. “We are the Long Brothers,” one of them, Ammonius, told him, “and we came to hear from you, venerable Master, whether you have met any of our students in your life and have you read any of our writings?” “Never,” answered Epiphanius. “How do you judge us without knowing us? Was it not your duty, despite everything you might have heard about us, to inquire for yourself before judging? This is exactly what we did for you. We know your students, we know your writings, and especially the one you entitled “Anchor of Faith.” So what? Although many do not approve of them and are of the opinion that you yourself are a heretic, we defended you, with your writings in our hands, although we did not know you. Why, in our absence, without asking us, without seeing us in person, without reading our books, did you decide that we are guilty?” – Ammonius fell silent, and the old bishop understood the lesson. He talked with these honest and intelligent monks, was pleased with their answers, and his prejudice dissipated significantly. This beginning of reconciliation with the people whom he had come to Constantinople to persecute rendered his presence more useless than ever, and he hastened his preparations for his departure. He was overcome by sadness, and perhaps even remorse. Realizing too late that he was the playground of intrigues, for which he had sacrificed both peace and part of his dignity, he hated Constantinople and, when he boarded the ship that was to take him away, he said to the bishops who saw him off: “I leave you your city, your palace, your spectacles; I can’t wait to leave all this, I assure you.” Those were his last words. As the ship moved away, cutting through the waters of the Propontis, the last traces of the excitement that had sustained it faded away before reflection. All that was left was a feeling of shameful defeat. Fatigue from the sea journey and dejection of spirit completely destroyed his already weakened body. He could not bear the attacks of fever that engulfed him, and died during the move, never seeing the shores of his dear Salamis. This sudden death struck superstitious minds. And when they subsequently saw that his opponent, John Chrysostom, condemned, deposed, expelled, died in exile, from the convergence of these two events arose a folk tale passed on to us by his contemporaries. It was claimed that at the last meeting of both saints, a meeting about which history does not say a word, Epiphanius said to Chrysostom: “I hope that you will not die as a bishop,” to which the latter replied: “And I hope that you will not die on your island of Cyprus.” The flight of Epiphanius left the battlefield behind Chrysostom: he should have taken advantage of the victory, but St. John was not like that. Moreover, he remained face to face with his real enemies - those in whose hands Epiphanius was only a tool with which they mercilessly played. In a speech which is known only from a few words of history (the cursive writers, in all likelihood, did not dare to make it public, and it is not in the collection of his works), he expands on the outrages of women, and especially condemns those who, with the amorous adventures of secular life, combine claims to rule in the Church, sowing discord in the sanctuary and raising persecutions against the servants of God. History tells us that in the bold pictures that he literally unfolded before his listeners, everyone recognized Augusta and those around her. The empress herself was absent this time, but the servants did not fail to convey everything to her. The blow touched her to the quick, so much so that she rushed to the Emperor, conjuring him to be the judge of the insult inflicted on them both. Arkady hesitated. Severian, called to the meeting, expressed the opinion that it was necessary to wait to do anything until the arrival of Theophilus, who at that time was in all likelihood already on his way to Constantinople. Chrysostom's friends became despondent, his enemies rejoiced. And indeed, the Patriarch of Alexandria was already on his way to Constantinople. After the first news from Epiphanius, which promised a happy outcome to his machinations in the great metropolis of the East, Theophilus began to act directly himself. Having chosen 28 Egyptian bishops, all of whom were distinguished by their unconditional devotion to him, he ordered them to sail a few days later to Chalcedon and wait for him in this city, where he himself went by land. Having taken all precautions, he set off through Palestine, Syria and Asia Minor, Brothers, the time has come for weeping, everything turns to dishonor. Gold alone gives shine and glory here. Meanwhile, listen to what David says: “If you have an abundance of wealth, do not set your heart there.” And who said this? Wasn’t this a man elevated to the royal throne?.. And he never looked at other people’s property in order to steal it, he never used his power to ruin the faith. He sought warriors more readily than treasures, and did not appear in the affairs of government as a slave to women... Oh, woe, woe to the women who close their ears to the warnings of heaven, and intoxicated not with wine, but with stinginess and anger, bother their husbands with their evil advice, leading them to injustice. The priest must not only be pure, but also very prudent and experienced in many things, know everything everyday no less than those who convert in the world, and be free from everything more than monks living in the mountains... must be multifaceted; I say - versatile, but not crafty, not a flatterer, not a hypocrite, but filled with great freedom and courage and, however, able to yield usefully when the state of affairs requires it, to be meek and at the same time strict. All subjects cannot be treated in the same way. Whoever entrusts power to a person harmful to the Church will be guilty of his daring actions... As for the elect, it is not enough to say in my own defense: I did not volunteer, I did not foresee and therefore did not shirk; so it cannot help the electors at all if they say that they did not know the chosen one; but therefore the guilt itself becomes greater because they accepted someone they did not know, and the apparent justification serves to increase the condemnation.