Nicene and Post-Nicene Church Fathers Series 2 - The Still Small ...

the weaker. The fire burned through the hand, but the hand was firm. The martyr might
say, “Thou hast holden me by my right hand. Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and
afterward receive me to glory.” 688 The homily concludes with an apostrophe to the painters
of such scenes. “Up, I charge you, ye famous painters of the martyrs’ struggles! Adorn by
your art the mutilated figure of this officer of our army! I have made but a sorry picture of
the crowned hero. Use all your skill and all your colours in his honour.”
This was taken at the second Council of Nicæa as proof of an actual painting. 689
Homily XVIII. is on the martyr Gordius, who was a native of Cæsarea, and was degraded
from his rank of centurion when Licinius removed Christians from the army. Gordius retired
into the wilderness, and led the life of an anchorite. One day there was a great festival at
Cæsarea in honour of Mars. There were to be races in the theatre, and thither the whole
population trooped. Not a Jew, not a heathen, was wanting. No small company of Christians
had joined the crowd, men of careless life, sitting in the assembly of folly, and not shunning
the counsel of the evil-doers, to see the speed of the horses and the skill of the charioteers.
Masters had given their slaves a holiday. Even boys ran from their schools to the show.
There was a multitude of common women of the lower ranks. The stadium was packed,
and every one was gazing intently on the races. Then that noble man, great of heart and
great of courage, came down from the uplands into the theatre. He took no thought of the
mob. He did not heed how many hostile hands he met.…In a moment the whole theatre
turned to stare at the extraordinary sight. The man looked wild and savage. From his long
sojourn in the mountains his head was squalid, his beard long, his dress filthy. His body
was like a skeleton. He carried a stick and a wallet. Yet there was a certain grace about him,
shining from the unseen all around him. He was recognised. A great shout arose. Those
who shared his faith clapped for joy, but the enemies of the truth urged the magistrate to
put in force the penalty he had incurred, and condemned him beforehand to die. Then an
universal shouting arose all round. Nobody looked at the horses—nobody at the charioteers.
The exhibition of the chariots was mere idle noise. Not an eye but was wholly occupied
with looking at Gordius, not an ear wanted to hear anything but his words. Then a confused
murmur, running like a wind through all the theatre, sounded above the din of the course.
Heralds were told to proclaim silence. The pipes were hushed, and all the band stopped in
a moment. Gordius was being listened to; Gordius was the centre of all eyes, and in a moment
he was dragged before the magistrate who presided over the games. With a mild and gentle
voice the magistrate asked him his name, and whence he came. He told his country, his
family, the rank he had held, the reason for his flight, and his return. “Here I am,” he cried;
“ready to testify by creed to the contempt in which I hold your orders, and my faith in the
688 Ps. lxxiii. 23, 24.
689 Labbe vii. 272. cf. Chrys. Hom. lxxiii.
Homiletical.
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lxx