Cyprian & Lactantius · a new plain-English translation from the original language
Behold, most beloved brothers, peace has been given back to the church, and what recently seemed impossible to the faithless and unbelieving has, through divine help and vengeance, restored our security. Minds are returning to joy, and now that the cloud of the storm's pressure has been dispersed, tranquility and serenity shine forth again. God deserves our praise, and thanksgiving must accompany the celebration of his kindnesses and gifts, even though our voice never stopped giving thanks, even throughout the persecution: for the enemy can never hold so much power that we — who love God with our whole heart, soul, and strength — would fail to declare his blessing and his glory everywhere and always. The day every prayer had longed for has arrived, and after a long night's dreadful, foul gloom, the world has burst into light, radiant with the brightness of the Lord.
We gaze with joyful eyes upon the confessors, bright with the renown of a good name and glorious for the praise of their courage and faith, and we embrace those we longed for with holy kisses, with a divine and unquenchable desire. Here stands the shining company of Christ's soldiers, who broke the raging violence of the pressing persecution by steadfast resistance, ready to endure prison, armed to endure death. You fought bravely against the world, you offered a glorious spectacle to God, you became an example to the brothers who would follow. Your devout voice spoke Christ's name, confessing that it had once for all believed in him; your illustrious hands, accustomed only to godly works, resisted the sacrilegious sacrifices; your mouths, made holy by heaven's food, having received the Lord's own body and blood, spat out the profane contagion and the remnants of idols. From the wicked and criminal veil with which the heads of those sacrificing were there covered, your head remained free and unenslaved; your forehead, bearing God's own mark, could never carry the devil's crown, but kept itself instead for the Lord's crown. With what a joyful bosom does mother church receive you as you return from the battle! How blessed, how rejoicing she is as she opens her gates, that you may enter in gathered ranks, bringing back trophies from the fallen enemy! Together with the triumphant men come women too, who along with the world have conquered even their sex. Virgins come as well, their glory doubled by their calling, and boys who have surpassed their years by their virtues. And the remaining crowd of those still standing firm follows in your glory as well, their footsteps trailing yours with marks of praise nearly equal to your own. Their hearts hold that same sincerity, their faith that same unshaken integrity. Anchored deep in the immovable foundations of heaven's commandments, and fortified by what the gospel handed down, they were not terrified by prescribed exile, by appointed torments, by the penalties threatened against their property and their bodies. Days were set for the testing of their faith: but whoever recalls having renounced this world owns no day that belongs to the world, nor does he reckon earthly time any longer, once he hopes for eternity from God.
Let no one, brothers, let no one diminish this glory; let no one weaken by malicious detraction the unblemished steadfastness of those who stood firm. When the day appointed for those who would deny had passed, whoever professed his faith within that day confessed that he was a Christian. The first title to victory is to confess the Lord when seized by pagan hands; the second step toward glory is to be reserved already for God by a cautious withdrawal. The one is a public confession, the other a private one; the one conquers the judge of this world, the other, content with God as his judge, keeps a pure conscience through integrity of heart; the one shows a readier courage, the other a safer carefulness. The one was found already ripe as his hour drew near; the other was perhaps only delayed, one who withdrew after abandoning his estate precisely because he was not going to deny — he would certainly have confessed, if he too had been seized.
These heavenly crowns of the martyrs, these spiritual glories of the confessors, these greatest and choicest virtues of the brothers who stood firm, are all saddened by one grief alone: that a part torn from our very vitals has been struck down by the violent enemy in the ruin of his onslaught. What am I to do here, most beloved brothers, tossed by the varied surge of my mind — what or how am I to speak? Words fail here; only tears can express a grief like this — the wound dealt to our body, the widespread devastation of a once-numerous people now calling for lament. For who is so hard and iron-hearted, who so forgetful of brotherly love, that standing amid the manifold ruin of his own and the mournful, defiled remnants, he could keep dry eyes and not, before any words, pour out his groans in tears the moment weeping breaks forth? Brothers, this grief is mine as much as yours, and neither my own untouched health nor my private security brings me any relief, since a shepherd feels the wound to his flock even more sharply than his own. I join my heart to each one, I share the mournful weight of grief and loss. I mourn with those who mourn, I weep with those who weep, I believe myself to lie prostrate with those who lie prostrate. My own limbs alike were struck by those darts of the raging enemy, the cruel swords passed through my own vitals. A mind could not be untouched and free from the assault of persecution: in the fall of the prostrate brothers, love itself has laid me low as well.
Yet, most beloved brothers, an account must be kept, nor should the dark gloom of this hostile persecution so blind the mind and understanding that no light at all remains by which the divine precepts may be discerned. If the cause of the disaster is known, the remedy for the wound is also found. The Lord chose to put his household to the test: a long peace had eaten away at the discipline handed down to us as a divine gift, and so a censure from heaven stirred our faith back to life after it had fallen and, I might almost say, gone to sleep; and though by our sins we deserved even worse, the most merciful Lord so tempered everything that all that has happened seemed rather a testing than a persecution.
Each one was intent on increasing his estate, and, forgetting what believers had done under the apostles or ought always to do, they devoted themselves with insatiable eagerness for gain to enlarging their fortunes. In the priests there was no devoted religion, in the ministers no whole faith, in works no mercy, in conduct no discipline. Men corrupted their beards, women painted their faces with false color; eyes were falsified beyond what God's hand had made them, hair was dyed by deceit. Deceit and cunning schemes preyed on simple hearts, and treacherous plots ensnared the brothers. They bound themselves in marriage to unbelievers, handing over Christ's own members to pagan defilement. Not only did they swear rashly, but they even committed perjury; they scorned their superiors with proud contempt, cursed one another with poisoned tongues, quarreled among themselves with unrelenting hatreds. Many bishops, who ought to be an encouragement and example to the rest, scorning their divine stewardship, became stewards of worldly rulers, abandoning their sees, deserting their flocks, wandering through foreign provinces in pursuit of the profitable trades of the marketplace. While brothers went hungry in the church, they wished to possess abundant silver, to seize estates by cunning frauds, to increase their wealth by multiplying interest. What punishment do we not deserve for wrongdoing of this sort, given that the divine censure had already warned us long before and declared: if they forsake my law and do not walk in my judgments, if they profane my ordinances and do not keep my commandments, their wrongdoing will be punished with the rod, their transgressions struck down with scourges?
These things were foretold to us, predicted beforehand. But we, forgetful of the law given to us and of its observance, brought it about by our own sins that, while we despised the Lord's commands, we came to need harsher remedies for the correction of our fault and the testing of our faith; and even at this late stage we did not turn back toward fearing the Lord enough to endure his correction and testing with patience and courage. At the very first words of the threatening enemy the greatest number of the brothers betrayed their faith, and were not struck down by the assault of persecution but laid themselves low by a voluntary fall. What unheard-of thing, I ask, what new thing had come to pass, that the sacrament of Christ should be dissolved by headlong rashness, as though some unknown and unexpected event had arisen? Did not the prophets foretell this before, and the apostles afterward proclaim it? Did they not, full of the Holy Spirit, always preach the trials of the righteous and the ever-present injuries of the pagans? Did not the divine scripture, always arming our faith and strengthening God's servants with a heavenly voice, say: You shall worship the Lord your God, and him alone shall you serve? Does it not, showing the wrath of divine indignation and warning beforehand of the fear of punishment, say again: They worshiped what their own fingers had made, and man was bowed down and made low, and I will not forgive them? And again God speaks, saying: he who sacrifices to gods shall be rooted out, save to the Lord alone. In the gospel too, afterward, the Lord — instructing through his words and fulfilling through his actions, practicing exactly what he taught — surely gave warning beforehand of everything now taking place and still to come? Did he not fix beforehand eternal punishments for those who deny and saving rewards for those who confess?
For some, sad to say, every such thought vanished utterly from mind. Rather than waiting to be arrested and interrogated before denying, they climbed the platform unasked. Battle lines had not even formed before a great many surrendered, falling without any struggle, not even preserving the appearance of unwilling idol-sacrifice. Unsummoned, they raced to the forum; they rushed toward death as if they had craved it for years, as if grasping at a long-hoped-for chance. So many were held back by magistrates as evening approached, and yet begged not to have their own ruin postponed! What force can a man plead in his own defense, when it was he who forced his own downfall into being? When they came to the Capitol unbidden, when they went of their own will to carry out that dreadful act — did their steps not falter, their eyes not dim, their insides not shake, their limbs not buckle? Did their minds not reel, their tongues not stick fast, their voices not fail? Could someone who had already renounced the devil and the age stand there and speak, renouncing Christ instead? Was that altar he approached to die at not simply his own pyre? Should he not have recoiled from that devilish altar, reeking with its foul smoke, and fled it as though from the very tomb and grave of his own life? What offering, wretch, what sacrifice do you bring as you go to beg mercy? You came to the altar as the sacrifice yourself, you yourself were the victim; there you offered up your salvation, there your hope and faith burned away in those deadly flames.
And for many their own ruin was not enough: by mutual encouragement people were driven on to destruction, death was passed from one to another like a deadly cup. And that nothing might be lacking to the full measure of the crime, even infants, placed or dragged by their parents' hands, lost as little ones what they had gained at the very beginning of their birth. Will they not say, when the day of judgment comes: We did nothing, nor did we of our own will hasten from the food and cup of the Lord to profane contagion; another's treachery destroyed us, we found our parents to be our murderers. They it was who denied us the church as mother, they who denied us God as father, so that while we, small and unwitting and ignorant of so great a crime, were joined by others to a share in their guilt, we were caught by another's fraud?
Nor, alas, is there any just and weighty cause that could excuse so great a crime. One's homeland had to be left behind, and the loss of one's estate accepted. For to whom, whether being born or dying, is it not appointed sometime to leave his homeland and suffer the loss of his estate? Christ himself must never be abandoned; what should be feared is losing salvation and forfeiting an eternal home. Behold, the Holy Spirit cries out through the prophet: Depart, depart, go out from there, and touch nothing unclean; go out from the midst of her, separate yourselves, you who carry the vessels of the Lord. And should those who serve as the Lord's vessels, the very temple of God, fail to withdraw and go out from the midst, at risk of being forced to touch what is unclean and be defiled and violated by deadly food? Elsewhere too a voice is heard from heaven, warning what the servants of God ought to do, and saying: Come out of her, my people, lest you share in her sins and be struck by her plagues. He who goes out and withdraws does not become a partaker in the sin, but he who is found a partner in the crime is struck by the plagues as well. And therefore the Lord commanded withdrawal and flight in time of persecution, and both taught this should be done and did it himself. For since the crown descends by God's own reckoning and cannot be received except when the hour for receiving it has come, whoever remains in Christ meanwhile withdraws, not denying the faith but awaiting the time; but he who fell because he did not withdraw remained one who was going to deny.
The truth must not be concealed, brothers, nor should we pass over in silence what has caused and produced this wound of ours. A blind love of their own estate deceived many, and those whom their possessions bound like fetters could not be ready or unencumbered for withdrawal. Those were the chains for those who remained, those the fetters by which their courage was held back, their faith weighed down, their mind bound, and their soul shut in, so that they became prey and food for the serpent who, by God's sentence, devours the earth — those, that is, who clung to earthly things. And for this reason the Lord, the teacher of good things, warning us in advance for the future, says: If you wish to be perfect, sell everything you possess and give to the poor, and treasure will await you in heaven; then come and follow me. Had the wealthy acted this way, their riches would never have ruined them; storing up wealth in heaven, they would no longer harbor an enemy and besieger inside their own household; their heart and mind and understanding would be in heaven, if their treasure were in heaven, and one whose means of being conquered lay not in this world could not be conquered by this world. He would follow the Lord unencumbered and free, as the apostles did, and many under the apostles, and not a few since, who, leaving behind both their possessions and their parents, clung to Christ with undivided bonds.
But how can those follow Christ who are held fast by the chain of their estate? Or how do they aim for heaven, climbing toward what is lofty and sublime, when earthly cravings drag them down? They believe they possess, when rather they are possessed, slaves of their own wealth, enslaved not so that money serves its master but rather so that the master is bound over to his money. This is exactly the age, these the very men the apostle points to when he says: those wanting to grow rich fall prey to temptation, to a trap, to countless harmful cravings that drag a person down into ruin and destruction. Greed for money is the root from which every evil grows; certain people, chasing after it eagerly, wandered away from the faith and impaled themselves on many griefs. Yet what reward does the Lord hold out to us for despising worldly possessions? What payment does he offer in exchange for these slight, passing losses we suffer now? No one, he tells us, gives up house, field, parents, siblings, wife, or children for God's kingdom without receiving seven times as much in return during this age, and life without end in the age to come. Once we grasp this and take hold of the truth of God's promise, such a loss deserves not fear but eager longing, since the Lord himself proclaims it again and admonishes: Blessed shall you be, when they persecute you and separate you and cast you out and revile your name as evil, for the sake of the Son of Man. Rejoice and leap for joy on that day, for your reward waits, great, in the heavens.
But then came the torments, and grievous sufferings pressed upon those who resisted. He may complain of the torments who was overcome by the torments; he may plead pain as his excuse who was conquered in his pain. Such a one may well ask and say: I truly meant to fight with courage — remembering my sacred vow, I armed myself with devotion and faith — yet as the contest wore on, the shifting torments and drawn-out agonies broke me down. My resolve held firm, my faith stayed strong, and for a long while my spirit resisted, untouched by the torturer's pains. But when, under the renewed savagery of a most cruel judge, the whips now tore my already-exhausted body, the clubs now battered it, the rack now stretched it, the claws now tore it open, the flame now scorched it, my flesh gave way in the struggle, the weakness of my body yielded, and it was not the mind but the body that failed under the pain — such a case may quickly deserve pardon, such an excuse may well be pitiable. So the Lord once forgave Castus and Aemilius in this very way, so in a second contest he made victors of those who had been defeated in the first encounter, that they became stronger through fire, having once given way before fire, and conquered by the very thing that had once conquered them. They pleaded not with the mere pity of tears but with their wounds, not with lamenting voice alone but with the laceration of their bodies and their pain; blood flowed in place of weeping, and gore ran down in place of tears from their half-burned flesh.
But now, what wounds can those who were defeated show, what gaping wounds of torn flesh, what torments of limbs, when faith did not fall after engaging in the struggle, but treachery ran ahead of the struggle itself? Nor does necessity excuse one overwhelmed, when the crime is one of the will. Nor do I say this to burden the case of the brothers, but rather to spur the brothers on to the prayer of satisfaction. For since it is written: those who praise you as blessed are in fact misleading you, throwing the path beneath your feet into confusion — he who flatters a sinner with soothing indulgence supplies fuel for sin, and does not check the offense but rather nourishes it. But he who reproves with sterner counsel both instructs and advances his brother toward salvation. Those whom I love, says the Lord, I reprove and chastise. So too the priest of the Lord ought not to deceive by indulgent compliance, but to provide for healing by wholesome remedies. He is an unskilled physician who handles the swollen recesses of a wound with a sparing hand, and by preserving the poison shut deep within the flesh only makes it worse. The wound needs cutting open, and only a stronger remedy can heal it once the rotten matter has been carved away. Let the sick man cry out and complain and protest, impatient under the pain — he will give thanks afterward, once he feels himself restored to health.
A fresh disaster has now emerged, dearest brothers: as if the persecution's fury had not been savage enough on its own, a further calamity arrives to finish the destruction — a wrong dressed up as compassion, a deceit that flatters even as it destroys. Certain men, rashly defying the gospel's strength and the law of the Lord and of God, hand out communion carelessly to those still unready — an empty, counterfeit peace, harmful to whoever gives it and useless to whoever receives it. They look for no patient road to healing, no genuine remedy through amends; repentance finds no room in their hearts, and all memory of so serious and final a sin has been erased. The injuries of these dying souls are papered over, and the fatal wound, buried deep within, is hidden simply by masking the pain. Coming straight from the devil's altars, hands still fouled and reeking, they approach the Lord's sacred things; breath still nearly reeking of the death-dealing offerings to idols, still exhaling the stench of their crime and its deadly contagion, they seize hold of the Lord's body — and this while scripture itself cries out: Every person who is clean may eat of the flesh, but whoever eats flesh from the peace-offering of the Lord while still unclean shall be cut off from among his people, that soul shall perish; and the apostle likewise attests, saying: You cannot both drink from the Lord's cup and from the cup of demons; you cannot share both the Lord's table and the table of demons; and this same apostle warns and threatens the defiant and stubborn, declaring: whoever eats that bread and drinks from that cup unworthily, doing so without discernment, bears guilt for the Lord's own body and blood.