On Saint Romanus

1Again the memory of the martyrs, again a feast, and a spiritual assembly. Those ones labored, and we rejoice; those ones wrestled, and we exult. The crown is theirs, and the glory is shared—or rather, the glory belongs to the whole Church. And how can this be, someone says? Because the martyrs are our parts and members. If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it (1 Corinthians 12:26). The head is crowned, and the rest of the body exults. One Olympic victor emerges, and a whole people rejoices and receives him with great acclaim. If in the Olympic games those who contributed nothing to those labors enjoy such great pleasure, how much more would this happen with the athletes of piety? We are the feet, the martyrs are the head. But the head cannot say to the feet, “I have no need of you” (1 Corinthians 12:21). The members are glorious, but the surpassing glory does not make them strangers to their connection with the remaining parts. For they become glorious especially when they do not break off their connection with us. Even the eye, though brighter than all the rest of the body, preserves its own glory precisely when it is not cut off from the rest of the body. And why do I speak about martyrs? If their Master was not ashamed to become our head, much more are they not ashamed to be our members. For they have love rooted within them, and love is accustomed to join and bind together things that stand apart, and it does not quibble about worth. Just as they suffer with us in our sins, so we rejoice with them in their achievements. Paul commanded us to do this when he said, “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). But weeping with those who weep is easy, while rejoicing with those who rejoice is not very easy. For we more readily suffer with those in misfortune than we share joy with those who prosper. In the one case, the very nature of misfortune is enough to bend even a stone toward sympathy; but in the other case, with prosperity, envy and malice do not allow anyone who is not deeply philosophical to become a partner in the pleasure. For just as love gathers and binds together what is divided, so malice divides what is united. Therefore I urge you, let us practice rejoicing with those who prosper, so that we may cleanse our souls of envy and malice. For nothing drives away this harsh and hard-to-cure disease as much as sharing joy with those who live in virtue. Listen, then, to how Paul excels in both of these. “Who is weak,” he says, “and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I am not on fire?” (2 Corinthians 11:29). He did not say, “and I am not grieved,” but “and I am not on fire,” wanting to show us by this term the intensity of the pain. And again, writing to others, he says, “You have begun to reign without us—and I wish you had begun to reign, so that we also might reign with you” (1 Corinthians 4:8). And again: “Now we live, if you stand firm in the Lord” (1 Thessalonians 3:8). See how precious the good reputation of his brothers was to him—he did not even consider himself alive if they were not being saved.

2A man caught up to the third heaven and carried away into paradise, who shared in secret mysteries and enjoyed such boldness before God, did not receive strong perception of those good things unless he also saw his brothers being saved along with him. For Paul knows—Paul knows clearly—that of love nothing is either greater or equal, not even martyrdom itself, which is the chief point of all good things. And how is this so? Listen. Love, even without martyrdom, makes disciples of Christ, but martyrdom without love would not be able to accomplish this. From where is this clear? From the very words of Christ. For he said to his disciples, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35). See, love without martyrdom makes disciples. And that martyrdom without love not only does not make disciples but does not even benefit the one enduring it, listen to Paul saying, “If I hand over my body to be burned, but do not have love, I gain nothing” (1 Corinthians 13:3).

For this reason I especially love this holy man who has gathered us here today, the blessed Romanus, because along with martyrdom he displayed great love, and for this reason his holy tongue was cut out. And indeed this too is worth examining: why ever did the devil not lead him to tortures and punishments and torments, but cut off his tongue? For he did not do this without purpose, but with great wickedness. For the beast is crafty, and he works and moves everything against our salvation. Come then, let us examine why ever he proceeded to the cutting out of the tongue, bringing the account a little further back. For in this way we will know both the love of God toward humanity, and the endurance of the martyr, and the wickedness of the devil. And when we learn the love of God toward humanity, we will give thanks to the Master; when we know the endurance of the martyr, we will imitate our fellow servant; and when we understand the wickedness of the devil, we will turn away from the enemy. For this reason God has given us to know his schemes, so that by hating him more we may overcome him more easily. And that it is possible to know his thoughts, listen to what Paul says about the man who had committed sexual immorality. For writing to the Corinthians he says something like this: “Reaffirm your love for him, so that we may not be outwitted by Satan; for we are not ignorant of his designs” (2 Corinthians 2:8, 11).

What then is the reason for which he cut out the tongue? Bear with me a little while I narrate from earlier. A harsh war was once stirred up against the Churches—not with barbarians attacking the cities, nor with any foreigners, but with those who seemed to rule over our world, who treated their subjects more savagely and more cruelly than all barbarians and enemies and tyrants. For the danger then was not for freedom and homeland and possessions and the present life, but for the kingdom of heaven and the good things stored up, for immortal life, for confession of faith in Christ. And a new kind of captivity was devised. For they did not cast people out of the city here below, but they attempted to deprive them of the Jerusalem above, the free one, and they forced each person to slaughter his own soul upon the altars, to renounce his own Master, to bow down to the tyranny of demons, and to serve the destroyers and enemies of our salvation—the demons. This was more grievous and more unbearable to Christ-loving souls than ten thousand deaths and all Gehenna.

3At that time, then, when many were being submerged, and the storm was rising, and many were suffering shipwreck, this blessed Romanus came into their midst. He did not immediately consider how to throw himself into the dangers, but first gathered together those who were afraid, those who had collapsed, those who had betrayed their own salvation. He encouraged them, he prepared them to fight back, raising up those who had fallen and securing those who were standing with prayers, exhortations, and counsels. He spoke at length about things to come and things present, showing the temporary nature of these and the permanence of those, setting rewards against labors, crowns against tortures, prizes against pains. He taught what the present life is and what the life to come is, how great the distance between the two, and that death is absolutely necessary. For even if we do not end our life in this way, we will certainly be compelled by the law of nature to depart from these bodies a little later.

By urging these things and others like them, he lifted up the weakened hands, he steadied the paralyzed knees, he brought back the fugitives, he cast out cowardice, he drove away anguish, he instilled courage. Instead of cowards he made them eager; instead of gazelles and deer he made them lions breathing with great strength. He welded together the army of Christ, and he turned the shame that was ours against the heads of the enemy.

So when the devil saw that a sudden transformation had taken place—that those who yesterday and the day before had feared him and trembled before him were now laughing at him and daring against him, stripping themselves for the dangers, leaping upon the torture chambers—and when he recognized the one responsible, he abandoned everyone else and breathed entirely against that man, moving all his power and madness against that blessed head.

And what does he do? Observe his wickedness. He did not bring him to tortures; he did not cut off his head. For the time that had passed had taught him that all these things were done in vain and to no purpose. Not only had they not cut short the eagerness of those who believed, but they had increased it further and made it greater and more fervent. “I spread coals underneath,” he says, “but they ran as if on roses. I kindled fire, but they threw themselves in as if into springs of cold water. I tore their sides and cut deep furrows and brought down streams of blood, but they adorned themselves as if they were being drenched on every side with gold. I hurled them from cliffs and plunged them into the sea, but they were not like people going down into the deep; they were like people going up into heaven itself, leaping and rejoicing, dancing as if in a sacred procession, playing as if in a green meadow. Each one seized the punishments in this way—not as punishments, but as spring flowers, being crowned, and by the excess of their own eagerness they outstripped my punishments.”

“What then should be done?” he says. “Should I cut off this man’s head? But what he prays for is what happens, and his disciples receive greater exhortation through deeds. For he has urged that the death of martyrs is not death, but life without end, and that above all one must endure everything for this, and that one must despise death. If then I cut off his head, and he bears what happens nobly, he will teach them more clearly through deeds that death must be despised in this way, and he will raise their spirits even more, and by dying he will breathe greater eagerness into them.”

4For this reason he cut off the tongue, so that the martyr’s disciples, deprived of the voice they had been enjoying, and having fallen away from counsel, and having been made desolate of exhortation, might become more cowardly and return to their former anxiety, since they no longer had the one who anoints them, nor the one who rouses and arms them.

And observe the wickedness. Herod cut off the head of John the Baptist, but this one cut off not the head, but only the tongue. Why? Because of great wickedness and perversity. “If I cut off his head,” he says, “and he dies, he will depart without seeing the destruction of his own brothers. But I want to set him up as a witness of the corpses and the calamity of his fellow soldiers, so that he may be choked by grief as he watches them fall, unable to stretch out a hand, and no longer able to give the counsel he gave before, since his voice has been cut out along with his tongue.”

But the One who catches the wise in their craftiness turned this scheme back upon that one’s head, and not only did He not deprive them of counsel, but He made them enjoy even more exhortation and share in more spiritual teaching. For when this was decided, the physician is summoned for the cutting, and the executioner takes the place of the physician, not correcting the diseased member but destroying the healthy one. And when he removed the tongue, he was not able to remove the voice along with it. The tongue of flesh was cut out, but the grace hovered over the blessed man’s mouth. Nature released its own member, as the iron forced it, but grace did not allow the voice to fall out with it. From then on the disciples enjoyed more spiritual teaching, hearing not a human voice as before, but a divine and spiritual voice, greater than our nature. And everyone ran together—angels from above, humans from below—each one longing to see a mouth without a tongue and to hear it speaking in this way.

For it was truly wondrous and extraordinary: a mouth speaking without a tongue, bringing great shame to the devil, great glory to the martyr, and great encouragement to the disciples, an occasion of endurance. For it is God’s custom from the beginning: whatever the devil stitches together against us, He turns it back upon that one’s head and makes it serve our salvation.

Consider: the devil cast the human being out of paradise, and God opened heaven to him. The devil drove him from his rule on earth, and God gave him the kingdom of heaven and seated our nature on the royal throne. So God always gives greater goods than those the devil tries to deprive us of. He does this to make the devil more hesitant in his plots against us, and to teach us never to fear his schemes. This is what happened here with the martyr. For the voice the devil expected to deprive him of, God granted him a much greater and more august one. It was not the same thing to speak with a tongue and to speak without a tongue. The former was natural and common to all; the latter was beyond nature and became his alone.

5And yet even if the martyr had stood speechless after his tongue was cut out, his contests would still have been complete and his crown finished. For the cutting of the tongue was a very great and clear proof. If you did not fear the tongue, you foul and utterly defiled one, why did you cut it out? Why did you not leave the ground of the wrestling alone, but shut up the arena? It is as if someone about to fight in the pancration, after receiving unspeakable blows and no longer able to resist, should order his opponent's hands to be cut off and then strike him. No further proof would be needed to award the victory to the one whose hands were cut off. So too in the martyr's case, the cutting out of the tongue became the clearest proof of all of his victory over the devil. For even though the tongue was mortal, yet since it gave immortal wounds to the devil, he breathed against it with all his force, making himself more shameful and making the martyr's crown more brilliant. For just as it is wonderful to see a tree without a root and a river without a spring, so too a voice without a tongue.

Where now are those who disbelieve in the resurrection of bodies? Look: the voice both died and rose again, and both happened in a single moment. And yet this is far greater than the resurrection of bodies. For there the nature of bodies remains; only the composition is dissolved. But here the very ground of the voice was destroyed, and yet it became more brilliant again. If you remove the reeds of a flute, the instrument lies useless from then on. But not so the spiritual flute: even when the tongue was removed, it was not only not voiceless, but it sent forth a more melodious and more mystical song, and with greater astonishment. And again with a lyre: if someone merely snatches away the plectrum, the craftsman is idle, the craft useless, the instrument vain. But here nothing of the sort—rather the complete opposite. For the mouth was the lyre, the tongue was the plectrum, the soul was the craftsman, and the craft was confession. Yet when the plectrum was removed—I mean the tongue—neither the craftsman nor the craft nor the instrument became useless, but all displayed their proper power. Who did these things? Who displayed these wonderful and paradoxical things? God, who alone does wonders, about whom David says, "O Lord, our Lord, how wonderful is your name in all the earth! For your majesty is lifted high above the heavens. Out of the mouths of infants and nursing babies you have prepared praise" (Psalm 8:1-2). Then it was out of the mouths of infants and nursing babies; now it is out of the mouth of the tongueless. Then the nature was unripe; now the mouth is desolate. Then the root on the children was tender, but the fruit was complete. Here the root itself was destroyed, and yet the production of the fruit was not hindered—for the fruit of the tongue is voice. The later things are more wonderful than the former. For so that these things might not be disbelieved, those earlier things ran ahead, so that we might not be disturbed by these, our mind having been accustomed beforehand in those things. For this reason these things came to meet us, so that those unseen and ancient things might be believed from the visible things that had just happened.

6In just this way Aaron's rod once blossomed, just as the martyr's mouth has blossomed now. But why did Aaron's rod blossom then? Because the priest was being dishonored. And why has the martyr's mouth blossomed now? Because the great high priest, Jesus Christ, was being blasphemed. See how great is both the kinship and the superiority of the wonder. For just as that rod was not joined to a root, nor drawing moisture from the earth, but was barren of any supply from there and had lost its fruit-bearing power, yet suddenly produced fruit—so here too the voice, deprived of its root and having no power from the organ, suddenly blossomed in a dry and barren mouth. In this lies the kinship, and in another thing the superiority: for the distance between the two fruits is great. The one was perceptible to the senses, but the other was spiritual, and it opened the very heavens for the one who brought forth this voice at that time.

For all these things, then, let us rejoice together with the martyr. Let us glorify the God who works these wonders. Let us imitate the endurance of our fellow servant. Let us give thanks to the Master for His grace. Let us take from what has been said sufficient encouragement in trials. And as we marvel at the power and care of the God who made us, let us contribute everything on our part, and what comes from Him will surely follow. Even if human beings, even if demons, even if the devil himself fights against us, there will be nothing more for those who war against us—only if we show our own eagerness and contribute everything that must be contributed from our side. For in this way we will draw God's help here, and in the life to come we will enjoy great glory and salvation. May we all attain it, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, honor, and might, forever and ever. Amen.