Macrina was born in about 325 and died in 380, living her whole life in what is now central Turkey. She was the eldest child of Christian parents from families that had suffered much for their faith. Gregory wrote an account of his sister’s life shortly after her death and also mentions her in his Letter 19 and in On the Soul and the Resurrection, but strangely, her brother Basil never refers to her in his writings.
Macrina was given a Christian education at home by her mother. Her parents intended her to marry, but her fiancé died and Macrina refused to be married to anyone else. Instead, she chose at the age of twelve to live a sheltered life with her mother, helping to administer her mother’s property and bring up her own younger brothers whom she inspired in their spiritual lives. Her holiness, generosity and learning drew many women who came to live with her and adopt the same life of austerity, humility and Christian devotion. A large part of Gregory’s account is taken up by a description of his visit to his sister after their mother’s death, when Macrina herself is ill. Gregory tells of her calm courage in facing death, of his own emotions and of the events surrounding her death. Included are Macrina’s healing of herself from a breast abscess, and of a little girl from a chronic eye complaint.
Gregory was born in 331, the younger brother of Macrina. His brother Basil (see also note 3) made him bishop of Nyssa in 372. Together with Basil and Basil’s friend Gregory of Nazianzus, Gregory is regarded as one of the leading churchmen and theological writers in Greek of the fourth century: collectively these three are often referred to as the Cappadocian Fathers. His greatest contributions to Christian theology lie in his work on the Trinity and on the spiritual life. He engaged with Platonic philosophy and was influenced by Philo and Origen. He died after 385.
According to some manuscripts his biography of Macrina is addressed to the monk Olympios.
1 You might think from the title that this is a letter, but since it is as long as a prose monograph it is too long to be a letter. My excuse is that the subject you have asked me to write about is too big to fit into a letter. At any rate you will not have forgotten our meeting when I was about to set out for Jerusalem in fulfilment of a vow, for I wanted to see for myself the evidence for our Lord’s life on earth in the actual places where he stayed. I came across you near the city of Antioch, and all kinds of topics for conversation bubbled up in us (for it was hardly likely that our meeting would take place in silence when your lively mind triggered numerous starting points for discussion) as often happens on such occasions. In the course of our conversation we recalled the life of a person who was highly thought of. This person was a woman – if indeed she was a woman, for I am not sure it is right to refer to someone by their sex when she had transcended her sex. Our account was not based on hearsay but was an accurate description of things we had learned from personal experience. We did not need to rely on what other people can tell us for the young woman who was the subject of our reminiscences was not a stranger to our family. If she had been it would have been necessary to learn from others about the wonders associated with her, but in fact she was from the same family, being as it were the first product of our mother’s womb. You decided that it would be worth telling the story of her achievements so that a life of this kind would not remain unknown in times to come. You considered it wrong that a woman who by means of the Christian faith raised herself to the highest peak of human virtue should be consigned to oblivion and neglected without benefiting anyone. So I thought I ought to do as you asked and tell her story, as briefly as I can, in a straightforward and unpretentious style.
2 This young girl’s name was Macrina. There had been another Macrina in the past who was much admired in our family – she was our father’s mother and had bravely endured the persecutions, standing firm in her faith in Christ – and it was after her that this little girl had been given the name Macrina. This was her official name, the one used by those who knew her, but she had another name given to her in secret as the result of a vision before she was born. For her mother was so virtuous that she was guided in all matters by the will of God. In particular she adopted a pure and spotless way of life to the point that she had chosen of her own accord not to get married. But as she lost both her parents at a stage when she was blossoming into such a lovely young girl that her beauty inspired many men to want to marry her, she ran the risk, if she did not agree to marry someone, of being forced to do something against her will; for some of those who were attracted by her beauty were planning to abduct her. So she chose a man who was clearly serious-minded – in fact he was well known for it – so that she would have someone to protect her in her private life. Soon afterwards, as the result of her first pregnancy, she became the mother of this girl Macrina. When the time came for the birth to put an end to her labour pains, Macrina’s mother fell asleep and dreamed that she was carrying in her arms the child she was still carrying in her womb. Then there appeared to her a person looking much more majestic and taller than any human being, who addressed the unborn child by the name of Thecla, alluding to that famous virgin also called Thecla.1 The person did this three times and then vanished, granting the pregnant woman a pain-free birth. She woke up and realized that she had had a vision while she was asleep. This is how Thecla came to be Macrina’s secret name. It seems to me that the person in the vision made this announcement not to help the mother choose a name for her baby but to indicate the kind of life the child would lead, for having the same name as Thecla signified that she would choose the same way of life.
4 Growing up amid these pursuits as well as becoming skilled at processing wool, she reached her twelfth year, an age at which the flower of youth begins to blossom. At this point one may marvel at how her youthful beauty, even when kept out of the public eye, did not remain unnoticed. It seemed that nowhere in that country was there anything as marvellous as her loveliness: even skilful painters could not do justice to her grace. Although the art of the painter is able to produce anything, venturing to deal with the most challenging subjects and by means of imitation representing the images of the heavenly bodies themselves, it was unable to provide an accurate depiction of her beauty. It attracted a great swarm of suitors and in their eagerness to marry her, they besieged her parents. Her father (who was wise and skilled at discerning what was good) had picked out from the rest a man from a reputable family, well known for his good sense, who had recently left school. This was the man whom he decided should marry his daughter when she came of age. Meanwhile the man showed promise for the future and brought to the girl’s father his fame in public speaking as if it were one of the wedding gifts, demonstrating his eloquence in lawsuits on behalf of those who had been unjustly treated. But Envy destroyed these promising hopes, snatching him from life while he was still tragically young.
5 The girl knew of her father’s plans but when they were cut short, she spoke of the young man’s death as if it were marriage and as if her father’s plans had already been fulfilled. In future, she announced, she would live on her own. In taking this decision she showed a determination stronger than one would expect from someone of her age. Her parents often tried to bring up the subject with her because of the many men who, after hearing of her beauty, sought to marry her, but Macrina answered that it was unnatural and unlawful not to be content with the marriage her father had arranged for her; she should not be forced to set her sights on another, since marriage is by nature unique, as are birth and death. She asserted confidently that the man to whom her parents had decided to marry her had not died. She believed he was living for God through his hope of the resurrection: he was not a corpse, he was just absent. She claimed it was right to remain faithful to a husband while he was away. Using these arguments to repel those who tried to persuade her, she decided that there was one way of safeguarding her noble resolve, namely never to be separated from her mother, not even for a moment. Her mother would often say to her that she had carried her other children for the normal length of time in pregnancy, but that when it came to Macrina she carried her always because she had her with her all the time. But her daughter’s company was not a burden to her – in fact it was very useful, for her daughter helped her, replacing the work of several maids. Indeed both mother and daughter derived mutual benefit: the mother took care of her daughter’s spiritual needs, while Macrina took care of her mother’s physical needs, and in all other matters she carried out the required tasks, in particular often making bread for her mother with her own hands. This was not her main activity for it was only after she had performed the liturgical tasks that she used her spare time to cook for her mother, believing this was appropriate to her way of life. Not only this, but she would also share her mother’s responsibilities, which were quite a burden for her mother had four sons and five daughters and had to pay tax to three governors because her estates were in three different regions. As a result her mother was plagued by many worries (Macrina’s father having already passed away), and so Macrina became her companion in all these tasks, sharing her mother’s anxieties and easing the burden of her sufferings. At the same time she managed to retain her pure way of life under her mother’s guidance and watchful eye. In return, Macrina gradually led her mother towards the same ideal, I mean the philosophical ideal, 2 by means of her own way of life, inspiring her mother to adopt a simple existence detached from material things.
6 But after her mother had made suitable arrangements for Macrina’s sisters in accordance with the expectations of each, her brother Basil,3 a most impressive man, returned after having spent a long time studying rhetoric at university. Macrina found him excessively proud because he was very aware of his own rhetorical talent. He despised those in high office and arrogantly considered himself superior to the leading men of the province. But his sister soon persuaded him to focus on philosophy with the result that he rejected his celebrity status and came to despise the admiration accorded his rhetorical skills. Instead he adopted a way of life that involved hard manual work, preparing for himself a clear path towards a life of virtue by means of total poverty. It would, however, take too long to give an account of his life and the subsequent activities that made him famous everywhere under the sun with the result that his reputation eclipsed that of everyone else who was renowned for virtue, but I hope to return to this subject later.
7 As they no longer had any excuse for leading a materialistic life, Macrina persuaded her mother to renounce the life she was used to and give up her extravagant style of living and the services of her servants to which she had grown accustomed. Instead she came to regard herself as being on a level with the mass of ordinary people, sharing a life in common with the young girls who worked in her house, making them her sisters and equals. Here I would like to make a brief digression because I do not want to leave unrecorded the following episode which provides proof of Macrina’s high ideals.
8 The second of her four brothers after Basil was called Naucratios: he surpassed the others in being lucky enough to have a cheerful personality, good looks, strength, agility and all-round ability. At the age of twenty-two he gave a demonstration of his own work at a public gathering and the whole audience was hugely impressed by him. But divine providence seems to have led him to despise everything he had, and he was suddenly inspired to go off to live a life of solitude and poverty, taking nothing with him – just himself. One of his servants, called Chrysaphios, followed him both because of his affection for Naucratios and because he had decided to lead the same kind of life. And so Naucratios adopted a life of solitude in a remote area beside the Iris, a river that rises in Armenia and then flows through the Pontus (the region where we live), and then pours into the Black Sea. Near the river the young man found a place surrounded by dense woodland and hidden in a hollow beneath an overhanging rock: he decided to live here, far from the noise of the city and the distractions of life as a soldier or as an advocate in the law courts. After he had detached himself from all the noise and cares of human existence, he took to caring for some old men who lived together in poverty and sickness, for he thought that this was a suitable way to spend his time. Being skilled at every kind of hunting, he was able in this way to acquire food for the old men, while at the same time working off his youthful energies. He was also very happy to obey his mother’s wishes whenever she asked him to do something. In this way he lived a double life for the hard physical work allowed him to control his youthful impulses, while his devotion to his mother meant that he was obedient to the divine commandments, thereby travelling on a straight path towards God.
9 Naucratios spent five years in this way, leading the life of a philosopher – a way of life that made his mother very happy, because he was managing both to live in a self-disciplined way and also to put all his energy into doing what his mother asked. But then a terrible tragedy befell his mother – no doubt the result of the adversary’s4 scheming – something that was enough to plunge the whole family into disaster and sorrow. Naucratios was suddenly snatched from this life, without having had any illness that might have provided a warning of what was going to happen; nor was it as if he had fallen victim to any of the usual things that cause a young man to die. He had gone off hunting to get the food necessary for the old men in his care, but then his dead body was carried home, together with that of his companion Chrysaphios. His mother was totally unaware of these events, for she was at a distance of three days’ journey from the accident, and so someone had to go to tell her what had happened. Despite the fact that she was so perfect when it came to virtue, she was as susceptible to emotion as other people. She immediately fainted, unable to breathe or speak, and sorrow took the place of reason. Struck down by this terrible news she lay there like a champion boxer floored by an unexpected blow.
10 In this situation the great Macrina showed what a strong person she was: using her reason to withstand her strong emotions, she prevented herself collapsing and instead she became a support to her mother, raising her up again from the depths of sorrow. By means of her firm and unyielding attitude she trained her mother to be brave. Not that her mother was swept away by her feelings nor did she behave in a womanish or vulgar way: she did not shout abuse at misfortune or tear her clothes or lament over what had happened or encourage the singing of mournful dirges. She patiently endured the assaults of nature, pushing them away by means of her own reasoning and that of her daughter, which helped to heal her suffering. For it was at this time in particular that the young woman’s sublime and noble soul was revealed, for she was naturally suffering in the same way – after all, it was her brother, her dearest brother, whom death had snatched away like this. But she overcame her human nature and by means of her own reflections she raised up her mother, too. She helped her to overcome her sorrow, leading her by her own example to be patient and brave. In addition Macrina’s life was becoming increasingly virtuous, and this allowed her mother not to grieve so much for the son she had lost but rather to be happy for the goodness she could see in her daughter.
11 When Macrina’s mother no longer needed to worry about her children’s upbringing or be concerned about educating or setting them up in life and when she had divided most of her material wealth between her children, then (as has already been mentioned) the young woman became her mother’s guide to this kind of philosophical and spiritual way of life. Macrina, who had already given up all the norms of society, inspired her mother to strive for the same humility: she persuaded her to live as an equal with the female domestic servants, sharing the same table, the same kind of bed, and all the same necessities of life on an equal footing. All differences of rank were removed from their way of life. Indeed it would be impossible to describe their noble way of life, its order and the loftiness of their philosophy, both by day and by night. Just as the soul released from the body by death is also released from worries about this life, so their life was lived apart, far removed from all trivialities, and organized in imitation of the angelic life. You could find no evidence of anger, envy, hatred, contempt, or anything similar among them; they had rejected all desire for trivial things, for fame or reputation, or anything that led to pride or arrogance. Their self-indulgence was to be self-disciplined; their fame was to remain unknown; their wealth was to be poor and to shake off from their bodies all material abundance as if it were dust. They occupied themselves with none of those tasks that people busy themselves with in this life, except incidentally; instead they focused completely on God, on unceasing prayer and the continual singing of hymns, extended equally throughout the day and night in such a way that it was for them both work and a break from work. What human words could adequately describe such a way of life, lived by people existing on the borders between human and incorporeal nature? The fact that they had freed their nature from human feelings made them superhuman, but on the other hand the fact that they appeared in bodies and were encased in human form, equipped with sense organs, meant that they had a nature lower than the incorporeal nature of the angels. One might dare to say that the difference was minimal because living in the flesh in the likeness of incorporeal powers they were not weighed down by the burden of the body; instead their life was sublime and uplifted, walking on high with the heavenly powers. They led this kind of life for a long time and their good qualities increased with time as their philosophy advanced towards a greater purity with the help of other blessings they discovered on their way.
12 Macrina had another brother who particularly helped her to achieve her great purpose in life: his name was Peter5 and he was the last child for whom our mother endured labour pains. He was my parents’ youngest child and he became an orphan and a son at the same time for his father died when he was born. But his eldest sister, the subject of this account, took him from the nurse when he was weaned soon after his birth and looked after him herself, even though she herself was still very young. Macrina educated him in all the higher forms of learning, training him from childhood in the Scriptures so as not to allow his soul any leisure to spend on trivial things. She became everything to the young boy – father, teacher, mentor, mother, giver of all good advice – and managed to bring him to such perfection that before he left childhood behind, while he was still a delicate youth, he was already blossoming and making excellent progress in the spiritual life. He was lucky enough to have a natural aptitude for all forms of manual work, and without having anyone to teach him he achieved a perfect understanding of things that most people spend a lot of time and effort in learning. Peter despised the study of secular subjects, believing that nature was a good enough teacher of everything one needed to know. He always looked to his sister as the ideal at which he should aim. In this way he made such progress in virtue that he was respected for his goodness as much as his brother Basil. These things belong to a later time but at this period he was everything to his sister and mother, helping them in their progress towards the angelic life. Once when there was a severe famine and many people came from all over to the region where they lived, having heard of their generosity, Peter was able, due to his imaginative thinking, to provide so much food that the large numbers of visitors made that remote area look like a city.
13 At about this time their mother, who had reached a comfortable old age, departed for God, dying in the arms of two of her children. It is worthwhile recording the words of blessing she pronounced over her children. As was proper, she mentioned each one who was not there so that no one was deprived of her blessing, but it was those who were with her whom she specially commended to God in prayer. Her two children sat on either side of her bed, and she took the hand of each in her own and spoke her last words to God, saying: ‘To you, O Lord, I offer the first fruits and pay a tithe on the fruit of my labour pains. My first fruits are my eldest daughter and my tithe is my last-born son. Both these offerings are dedicated to you according to your law. May your blessing come upon both the first fruits and the tithe.’ By these words she meant her daughter Macrina and her son Peter. Her life came to an end as she finished her blessing, after getting her children to promise to bury her body in their father’s tomb. When they had done as she asked they were even more resolved to live an ascetic life, and struggling against their personal inclinations, they eclipsed their earlier achievements by means of subsequent success.
14 At about this time Basil, one of the most saintly men, was elected bishop of the great church at Caesarea. He himself ordained his brother Peter a priest, consecrating him with the sacred rites. As a result their lives became yet more solemn and holy, for the priesthood caused them to lead an even more ascetic life. Eight years later, Basil, by now world-famous, departed this life and went to be with God. His death was lamented equally in his own country and the world at large. When news of his death reached Macrina in her distant home, her heart was broken by this loss (for how could she not be affected by this misfortune when even the enemies of truth were affected?). It is said that gold is purified in different furnaces so that if any impurity is left after the first melting process it will be separated in the second, and once more in the final smelting when the metal is purged of all the impurities mixed in with it: the most accurate proof that the gold has been properly tested is if it no longer produces any impurity after it has passed through every furnace. Something similar happened to Macrina for her lofty ideas were put to the test by the repeated onslaughts of grief: her soul was thereby proved to be genuine and firm, first by the death of her brother Naucratios, then by the separation from her mother and finally when Basil, of whom our whole family was proud, departed this life. But Macrina remained unbeaten like a boxer, never cowering or brought to her knees by the blows of misfortune.
15 Nine months or slightly more after Basil’s death a council of bishops was held at Antioch,6 which we attended, and before a year had passed, when we were free once again to return home, I, Gregory, conceived a longing to go and visit my sister. For a long time had elapsed during which I had been prevented from going to her by the difficulties caused by the persecutions. I had endured these difficulties everywhere, exiled as I was from my country by the heretics. When I reckoned the intervening time during which the persecutions had prevented me from meeting her in person, it seemed like a long interval – a little less than eight years. After travelling most of the way I found myself only a day’s journey away. Then a vision came to me in a dream and made my hopes for the future full of apprehension: I seemed to be carrying the relics of a martyr and from them there shone a bright light like that which is reflected off a clean mirror when it is held up to the sun – indeed it was so bright that it dazzled my eyes. That night the same vision appeared to me three times: I could not understand clearly the dream’s hidden meaning, but I foresaw that my soul would encounter some sorrow. I waited to see what would happen next so that I could judge its significance. When I came close to the remote area where Macrina lived her angelic and heavenly life, I asked one of the servants whether my brother Peter was there. He told me that he had set off to meet us three days ago, from which I surmised that he had taken a different route from mine. Then I asked about Macrina. When the servant told me she was ill, I hurried to reach my destination for some premonition of the future crept over me and filled me with fear.
16 When I got there and news of my arrival reached the brothers, the whole community came out of the monastery [on their estate] to greet me (for it is usual for them to honour their friends by coming to meet them). From the women, a group of young girls, carefully arranged in order, were waiting by the church for my arrival. When the prayers and blessing were finished the girls, after respectfully bowing their heads to receive a blessing, withdrew to their quarters, leaving not a single one with us, from which I inferred that their leader was not among them. Someone led me to the house where Macrina was. The door was opened and I entered that holy place. She was already seriously ill but was resting not on a bed or a cover but on the ground itself, on a board covered with sacking, with her head on another board, which was used as a pillow for her head, for it had been set at an angle to support her neck.
17 When she saw me near the door, she raised herself up on one elbow: there was no way she could run towards me, for the fever had already sapped her strength. Instead she carried out her duty to come and meet me by putting her hands firmly on the ground and leaning out of bed as far as she could. I ran up to her and took her face, which was turned towards the ground, in my hands. I raised her up and helped her to lie back again as she had been. She stretched out her hand to God and said: ‘God, you have filled me with this grace and have not failed to grant my desire, for you inspired your servant, my brother, to visit me, your servant girl.’ She did not want to upset me further so she tried to control her groans and conceal how much her breathlessness distressed her, and attempted to put on a brave face, making cheerful remarks and giving us the opportunity to do the same by asking us questions. When Basil was mentioned in the course of the conversation, I lost heart, my face fell in dejection and tears streamed from my eyes. But Macrina was so far from sharing my sorrow that she made the mention of our saintly brother an opportunity for making greater progress in the philosophical life. She talked to us at length, seeking to explain the nature of man and revealing the workings of the divine plan, hidden though it was during these sorrowful times. She told us about things to do with the future life as if she were inspired by the Holy Spirit. As a result of her talk my soul seemed almost to be freed from my human nature, elevated by her words, and to take its place within the heavenly sanctuary.
18 We hear in the story of Job that although this man’s whole body was consumed by infected and suppurating sores, he did not allow himself to indulge in self-pity, but while suffering physically he remained as active as ever and did not cut short his discussions which were concerned with lofty matters. I noticed something similar happening in the case of Macrina when the fever was consuming all her energy and dragging her towards death, and yet she managed to refresh her body with a kind of dew and in this way she kept her mind clear for the contemplation of higher things, unaffected by the terrible illness. If I did not have to keep my account within limits, I would set down in order everything that she said and describe how she was so exalted by her own words as to enter upon a philosophical discussion regarding the soul and an explanation of the cause of life in the body: she told us why man exists and how it is that he is mortal and where death comes from and how we are released from this life into a new one.7 In all of this she was inspired by the Holy Spirit, explaining everything clearly and logically, as fluently as water flowing downhill from a spring without any hindrance.
19 When she had finished, she said, ‘Now, my brother, it is time for you to rest a while for you are very tired after your journey.’ In fact I felt genuine relief at seeing her and hearing her uplifting words, but because I knew it would please her if I complied with her wishes, I went into a nearby garden and found a beautiful place prepared for me. There I rested beneath the shade of the climbing vines. But it was impossible for me to enjoy the pleasant surroundings when my soul was troubled within by the thought of the sad events that were soon to occur. What I saw seemed to explain the mystery of my dream. For the vision before me really seemed to be the remains of a saint who had died to sin, and was radiant with the grace of the Holy Spirit dwelling in him. I told this to one of the people who had heard me describing my dream. We were feeling depressed, as was natural seeing that we were worried about what would happen, but somehow Macrina guessed our state of mind and gave us a more cheerful message. She told us to take heart and to have a more positive attitude for she claimed that she actually felt she was getting stronger. She was not saying this to deceive us – what she said was based on the truth, even if we did not know it at the time. Macrina’s attitude was like that of an athlete overtaking his rival in the stadium: he is already on the home straight and is close to getting the prize; he can see the victor’s wreath and is terribly excited as if the prize were already his; he even shouts out in triumph to his watching supporters. In a similar way Macrina gave us reasons to be excited over her success now that she was close to winning the prize of the heavenly calling and could almost apply the Apostle’s words to herself: ‘There awaits for me a crown of righteousness which the righteous judge will offer me’, since ‘I have fought the good fight and I have finished the race and kept the faith.’8 Her positive attitude cheered us up and as a result we were able to take pleasure in the food set before us: Macrina had up till now put a lot of effort into the careful preparation of a variety of dishes to offer us.
20 When we were in her company again (for she would not allow us to spend our spare time by ourselves), she resumed her account of her life starting from her childhood and describing everything in order as if it were a historical narrative. She told us what she remembered of our parents’ lives, both before my birth and in the years following. Her aim was to express thanks to God. She showed that our parents’ contemporaries did not admire them because of their wealth but for their divinely inspired philanthropy. Our father’s parents had their property confiscated because they were Christians, while our mother’s father was put to death because he provoked the emperor’s anger and all his property was transferred to other owners. Nevertheless, their wealth had increased so much through their faith that no one could name anyone wealthier than they. Later on, when our parents’ property had been divided up among their nine children, each child’s share was increased by God’s blessing in such a way that they each had a greater share than their parents had had. Macrina kept nothing of the share allotted to her when the estate had been divided up between her and her siblings – instead she arranged for it all to be put in the hands of a priest, in accordance with the divine command. Thanks to God’s guidance her life was such that she never ceased to work to carry out his commandments, nor did she ever rely on any human being, nor did her ability to lead a virtuous life depend on other people’s resources. On the other hand she never turned away beggars nor she did go in search of benefactors, for God, by his blessings, secretly increased the meagre resources produced by her efforts, turning them to abundant fruits.
21 Then I told her of the troubles I was experiencing – first, being sent into exile by the Emperor Valens9 because of my faith and then finding myself being drawn into distressing controversies because the churches had been thrown into confusion. She reacted by saying: ‘Will you not stop being so stubborn and ignoring God’s blessings? Will you not heal your ungrateful soul? Why do you not compare your situation with that of your parents? From a worldly point of view at any rate we can be proud of the fact that we are nobly born and come from a good family. Our father was highly regarded in his day for his learning but his reputation only extended as far as the local law courts; despite his outstanding skill at rhetoric, his fame did not go beyond the Pontus, but he was content to be admired in his own region. But you are famous throughout many cities, provinces and countries, and it is you whom the churches call on and send out as their negotiator and troubleshooter – do you not realize how much you are appreciated? Can you not see where all these blessings come from? It is your parents’ prayers that have raised you to these heights for you yourself have little or no natural predisposition for such things.’
22 While she was saying this I felt that I would very much have liked to extend the day so that she could continue to charm our ears with her delightful words. But the sound of the chanting of psalms was summoning us to the evening service, and so Macrina sent me to the church while she herself withdrew to be with God in her prayers. Then night fell. When the next day dawned it was clear to me from what I saw that this would be her last day on earth, for the fever had consumed all her natural strength. When she saw how depressed we were, she made an effort to distract us from our gloomy thoughts, dispelling the grief from our hearts by means of her sweet words, even though her breathing was now weak and distressed. My soul was weighed down by sadness, as was natural, because I could no longer hope to hear such a voice again, and I was expecting this woman, our family’s pride and joy, to pass from human life. On the other hand I was inspired by what was happening, sensing that she had transcended our common human nature. It seemed to me that she was no longer part of human reality in that she experienced nothing strange in waiting for death, even though she had almost breathed her last, and did not fear separation from this life. Instead she was meditating on the most important things right to the very end. It was as if some angel had providentially taken on human shape, an angel who had no connection or familiarity with life in the flesh and for whom a state of incapability of feeling pain was perfectly natural for the flesh did not drag her towards physical passions. For this reason it seemed to me that she revealed to those who were with her at the time that divine and pure love for the unseen Bridegroom which she kept hidden in the secret recesses of her soul. It seemed that she made public her heart’s desire to rush forward to join her beloved as quickly as possible, as soon as she was released from the ties of the body. For it was really her lover towards whom she was running, not allowing any of the pleasures of life to distract her.
23 Most of the day had already passed and the sun was setting, but her eagerness showed no signs of flagging. Indeed, as the time of her departure approached it was as if she could see more clearly the beauty of her Bridegroom and was hastening all the more towards her beloved. She no longer spoke to us who were present but to him on whom her gaze was fixed. Her bed had been turned towards the east, and she had withdrawn from conversation with us and was now addressing God in prayer, with her hands stretched out in supplication. She was whispering so faintly that we could hardly hear what she was saying. I will record the words of her prayer so that there can be no doubt that she was with God and that he was listening to her.
24 ‘You, O Lord, have freed us from the fear of death.10
You have made the end of this life to be the beginning of our true life.
You allow our bodies to rest for a time in sleep and wake us up again at the last trumpet.11
You have given in trust to the earth our earthly bodies which you have shaped with your own hands.
You have restored what you have given, transforming what is mortal and shapeless in us by means of immortality and beauty.
You have redeemed us from the curse of the law and from sin, becoming both for us.12
You have crushed the heads of the dragon13 which seized us in its jaws, dragging us through the yawning gulf of disobedience.
You have prepared the way for the resurrection, smashing down the gates of hell, and have destroyed the one who had power over death.14
You have given as a token to those who fear you the sign of the holy cross so that we can destroy the enemy and bring stability to our lives.
God eternal, at whom I threw myself from the moment I left my mother’s womb,15
You whom my soul has loved with all its strength, you to whom I dedicated my flesh and my soul from my youth until this moment, give me as companion a bright angel who will take me by the hand and lead me to the place of refreshment where flows the water of repose16 in the bosom of the holy fathers.
You have cut through the flame of the fiery sword17 and have allowed the man who was crucified with you and who threw himself on your mercy to enter paradise.18
Remember me, too, in your kingdom when I am crucified with you, I who out of fear of you have nailed down my flesh and have feared your judgements.19
Do not let the terrifying chasm separate me from your chosen ones.
Do not let the jealous one block my way.
Do not let my sin be revealed before your eyes, if I have sinned in word or deed or thought, led astray by the weakness of my nature.
You who have power on earth to forgive sins,20 forgive me so that I may draw breath.
Grant that I may come into your presence when I shed my body and that my soul, holy and without blemish, will be received into your hands like incense before your face.’21
25 As she finished her prayer she traced the sign of the cross over her eyes, her mouth and her heart. Little by little her tongue, parched by the fever, lost the ability to form the words clearly. Her voice failed and it was only from the parting of her lips and the gestures of her hands that we realized she was praying. Then, as evening drew on and a lamp was brought in, Macrina suddenly opened her eyes wide and looked towards the light, indicating that she wanted to sing the hymn set for the lighting of the lamps. But her voice failed her and so she achieved her purpose in her heart and by the gestures of her hands: her lips moved in harmony with her inner activity. When she had finished the hymn of thanksgiving and she moved her hand to her face to make the sign of the cross to indicate the end of the prayer, she gave a deep sigh: she had reached the end of her life at the same time as her prayer. When she stopped breathing and moved no more, I recalled the request she had made when we first met again. She had said she would like me to close her eyes with my hands and carry out the customary treatment of her body. So I put my hand, numb with grief, to her saintly face, because I did not want to appear to be disregarding her request. Her eyes did not need any adjustment for they were as they would be if she had been sleeping naturally, decently covered by her eyelids; her lips were firmly closed and her hands rested on her breast in the proper way. Indeed her whole body had of its own accord adopted a graceful posture and did not need my hands to make any improvements.
26 My soul was paralysed both by what I saw before me and by the distressing sound of lamentation I could hear from the women. Until then they had restrained themselves calmly, keeping their pain deep inside their hearts and stifling their impulse to weep for fear of encountering Macrina’s reproachful look, even if she did not say anything, if one of them failed to stifle a cry, and thereby disobeyed her. They had not wanted to upset her. But when they could no longer calmly control their feelings, like a fire smouldering in their hearts a bitter and irrepressible cry burst forth which knocked me completely off balance. I felt as if I were being dragged under water by a fast-flowing stream as I was swept away by my grief. Forgetting what I had been doing, I joined in their lament. The women’s grief did in fact somehow seem right and reasonable to me. They were not crying because they had lost a close friend or someone with whom they had had a physical relationship or anything of that sort which makes it intolerable when tragedy strikes. No, it was rather as if they had lost their hope in God and in the salvation of their souls – this was what they were crying for and loudly bewailing in their lamentations. ‘The light of our eyes has been put out,’ they said, ‘and the lamp that guided us has been taken away. The stability of our life has been destroyed and the seal of our immortality has been snatched away. That which bound us together in harmony has been torn apart, that which supported us in our exhaustion has been shattered, and we have lost the one who cared for the weak. When we were with you night seemed to us as bright as day because of your pure life; but now daylight itself has turned to darkness.’ Those women who called her mother and nurse expressed their grief even more passionately. They were the ones whom she had found wandering along the roads during the famine: she had taken them home and fed and cared for them and led them towards a pure and uncorrupted life.
27 When I had somehow managed to lift my soul out of the abyss, I looked closely at this saintly woman, and I felt I was being rebuked for the lack of discipline of those who were making such a noise with their wailing. ‘Look at her,’ I called to the women in a loud voice, ‘and remember what she taught you about what was proper and correct in each situation. Her holy soul prescribed a specific time for tears; you were told to limit your crying to the time set aside for prayer. You can obey her now, by turning the wailing of your laments into the harmonious singing of hymns.’ I said this in an even louder voice, so that I could be heard over the sound of their grief. Then I asked them to move to the building next door for a few moments, while some of the women whose care she had been happy to accept during her lifetime stayed behind.
28 Among these women there was one who was wealthy and nobly born and whose physical grace and general distinction had made her a celebrity in her youth. She had married a man of high rank and had lived with him for a short time but their union had been torn apart while she was still young. After that she had made Macrina the guardian and teacher of her widowhood. She lived most of the time with the women who had adopted a life of chastity, learning from them how to live a life of virtue. Vetiana was the name of this woman and her father, Araxios, had been a member of the senate. I told her that now, at any rate, we could not reproach ourselves for dressing Macrina’s body in bright clothes and adorning her pure and spotless body with colourful garments. Vetiana replied that we must find out what the saintly woman had thought right in these circumstances for it would not be a good idea to go against her wishes; but certainly she would be happy to do whatever was pleasing to God.
29 There was one woman who had been put in charge of the women dedicated to chastity – a deaconess called Lampadion who claimed to know precisely what Macrina’s wishes had been with regard to her own burial. When I asked her about it (for she happened to be present at our discussion), she replied in tears, ‘The only adornment that this saintly woman longed for was a pure life. This was to be what adorned her in life and her shroud in death. As regards the adornment of her body she was not concerned with such things during her lifetime nor did she make arrangements for the present situation: even if we wanted it we would find nothing more than what we have here.’ ‘But has nothing been put away,’ I asked, ‘which we could use to decorate the coffin?’ ‘How do you mean, “put away”? What you are holding is everything that she put away. Look at the cloak, look at the veil for her head, the worn-out shoes on her feet. These are her riches, this is her fortune. There is nothing other than what you can see, nothing put away and locked in secret chests or rooms. She knew only one place to store her personal wealth and that was the heavenly treasure-chest. It was there that she stored everything, leaving nothing on earth.’ ‘Well then,’ I said to her, ‘what if I were to offer her one of the things I had put away for my own burial – would that be contrary to her wishes?’ Lampadion replied that she did not think this would be against Macrina’s wishes. ‘While she was still alive she would allow you to pay her such honour for two reasons, because of your priesthood which she always respected and because of your close family tie. In her opinion what belonged to her brother also belonged to her. That is why she asked that her corpse be dressed for burial by your hands.’
30 When this had been decided it was time to dress her saintly body in linen for burial. We divided the tasks between us, each person taking on a different one. For my part I gave instructions to a servant to bring the garment, and Vetiana, whom I mentioned, prepared the saintly woman for burial. As she put her hand to Macrina’s neck she turned to me and said, ‘Look at the necklace she’s wearing!’ She unfastened the chain at the back and stretched out her hand to show me a cross and a ring both made of iron. Macrina had clearly worn them both all the time, hanging by a thin thread over her heart. I said to Vetiana, ‘Let us share these. You take the cross to protect you; I will be happy to take the ring as my share.’ Vetiana looked carefully at the ring’s signet which had a cross engraved on it and then she said to me, ‘This was a good choice of yours. Look, the hoop of the ring is hollow and there is a sliver of the Tree of Life22 inside it. So the cross engraved on the outside is an indication of what the ring contains inside.’
32 When we had finished adorning the body as best we could, the deaconess again said that it was not appropriate for the women to see Macrina dressed as a bride. ‘I have a dark cloak of your mother’s which I have kept,’ she said. ‘I think it would be a good idea to put this over Macrina so that the attractiveness of the clothes she is wearing does not unnaturally enhance her saintly beauty.’ I was persuaded by what she said and so we spread the cloak over Macrina. But even when wearing the dark cloak she was still radiantly lovely. I am convinced that the divine power added this grace to her body, so that her beauty seemed to shine with a bright light just as in the vision I had had in my dream.
33 While we were busy with these things and the women’s psalm singing, mingled with lamentations, echoed round the place, the news of her death had quickly spread – I am not sure how – all over the surrounding area. All the people living nearby were hurrying here in response to this tragic news; in fact the hall was not large enough to contain all those who came running. We spent the whole night singing hymns around her, just like those hymns sung in praise of the martyrs, and when dawn broke, the crowd of both men and women who had gathered from the surrounding areas disturbed the psalm singing with its wailing. For my part, although my heart was suffering as a result of this sad event, I nevertheless decided that as far as our resources permitted we should do all the things appropriate for such a funeral. So I divided the crowd according to sex, putting the many women with the virgins and the men with the monks, thereby creating a rhythmic and harmonious choir to sing the psalms. A little later in the day, when the whole area around this remote spot became too small for the large number of people gathered there, the bishop of that area, a man by the name of Araxios who was there with all his clergy, suggested that the funeral procession should set off slowly because the distance we had to go was considerable and the crowds of people would prevent it moving any faster. At the same time he gave orders that all his priests should help to carry the bier.
34 When these decisions had been made, we began to carry them out. I went to stand in front of the bier and invited Araxios to stand beside me, while two other members of the higher clergy took up position at the back. The slow procession then set off, as is the custom, and we moved forward step by step. The people crowded round the bier, each person finding it hard to tear their eyes from that holy woman, and this meant that it was not easy for us to proceed. On each side long lines of deacons and clergy of the lower orders led the procession, each carrying a candle. It was like a liturgical procession for the sound of the psalms being sung in harmony could be heard the whole length of it, as in the Song of the Three Children.23 It was about a mile from our remote home to the chapel of the holy martyrs where our parents were buried, and the journey took us nearly the whole day. For the ever-increasing number of people accompanying us hindered our progress and we could not go as fast as planned. Once inside the building we stopped, put down the bier and immediately began to pray. But our prayer caused people to start crying. When there was a pause in the singing of the psalms, the women turned to look at that saintly face. At that moment our parents’ tomb (in which Macrina was to be buried) was being opened and some woman cried out desperately that we would never see that divine face again. Then the rest of the women joined her in crying out in the same way, and a wild confusion broke out, disrupting the ordered and sacred character of the psalm singing, as everyone echoed the women’s laments. We signalled to them to be quiet but it was hard to get them to do so. Then the cantor led them in prayer, starting with the proper liturgical chants while the people composed themselves to pray.
35 When the prayer had reached its proper conclusion, I was seized by a fear that I would break the divine command against uncovering one’s father’s or mother’s nakedness.24 ‘How will I avoid this kind of condemnation if I see in my parent’s bodies that nakedness which all humans share? No doubt their bodies will have decayed and become disgusting and foul.’ As I thought about this, I became even more worried when I remembered Noah’s anger at his son, but it was actually the story of Noah that advised me what to do.25 Before the bodies were exposed they were covered with a clean shroud, which was pulled right down to each corner before the lid of the tomb was lifted off. When the shroud covered the bodies, the local bishop and I lifted Macrina’s saintly body from the bier and laid her beside her mother, thereby carrying out the wishes of both women. For together they had prayed to God their whole lives long, asking that their bodies should be joined after death and that the intimacy they had shared during their lives should not be disrupted in death.
36 When we had performed all the funeral rites and it was time to go home, I lay down on the tomb and kissed the dust before starting the return journey. I felt dejected and tearful when I thought of all that my life had now lost. On the way I came to Sebastopolis, a small town in the Pontus, where I was courteously met by a man who was a high-ranking army officer in charge of a garrison there, where he lived with his subordinates. He had heard of my misfortune and was very upset (for he was connected to our family as a relative and a friend), and he described to me a miracle that Macrina had performed. I will just add this one miracle to my account and then I will bring my story to an end. When we had stopped crying and started to talk, he said to me, ‘Let me tell you how good Macrina was, she who has been set free from human existence’, and with these words he began his story.
37 My wife and I once conceived a desire to visit the ‘school of virtue’ – that is, I believe, the name one should give the place where that blessed soul lived. We had our daughter with us who was suffering from an eye infection. She looked really ugly and pitiable for the cornea around her pupil had swollen and turned milky. On entering the holy house, my wife and I went off separately to visit the men and women who were living an ascetic life there: I went to the men’s monastery which was headed by your brother Peter, while my wife went to the women’s monastery to meet the saintly Macrina. After some time, we judged it was time to leave that remote place and we were just about to depart when we both experienced an act of friendship, each in our separate place. For your brother invited me to stay and share their austere meal, while the blessed Macrina refused to let my wife go. Holding my daughter on her lap, she said she would not let them leave until they had been offered a meal and the riches of the ascetic life. Macrina caressed the child as was natural and as she put her lips to the girl’s eyes, she noticed the medical condition around the pupil. ‘If you do me the favour of joining me for the meal, I will give you in return a suitable reward for the respect you have shown me.’ ‘What kind of reward?’ asked the child’s mother. ‘I have an ointment,’ said the great one, ‘which has the power to heal this eye condition.’ When a message from the women’s monastery informed me of Macrina’s promise, my wife and I were happy to stay without worrying too much about the need to return home.
38 When we had finished the meal and our hearts were full – for the great Peter had produced the food for us with his own hands and had cheered us up, while the saintly Macrina had said goodbye to my wife with real friendliness – we resumed our journey, eager and cheerful. As we travelled along we told each other of what we had experienced. For my part I told her what I had seen and heard in the men’s quarters, while my wife described everything to me in great detail, convinced that she should not leave out even the smallest detail, as if she were giving a blow-by-blow account. She gave me an account of events as in an historical monograph, and when she got to the promise of a cure for our daughter’s eyes, she suddenly stopped and said, ‘What’s the matter with us? How could we forget her promise and the eye ointment she told us about?’ I was upset by our carelessness and I asked someone to run back quickly and fetch the medicine. Then the child who was being carried by her nurse happened to look at her mother, and her mother, staring at her daughter’s eyes, said, ‘Do not be upset any longer at our carelessness.’ (Her excitement and surprise caused her to shout out these words.) ‘Look! We have got everything she promised us! She has already given us the true medicine which can heal the medical condition! It is the medicine of prayer and it has already had an effect: there is not the slightest trace of the problem affecting her eyes! That saintly woman’s remedy has cleared her eyes completely!’ As she said this, she took the child and put her in my arms. Remembering the incredible miracles in the Gospels I said, ‘Is it surprising that God’s hand causes the blind to recover their sight, when today his servant Macrina, in curing this disease by means of her faith in God, has performed a miracle almost as wonderful as the ones in the Gospel?’
As he said this his words were choked by sobs: what he had told me made him burst into tears. This was the story I heard from the army officer.
39 We heard many similar stories from those who lived with Macrina and who knew her very well, but I do not think it is a good idea to add them to this account. Most people judge the credibility of what they are told from their own experiences, and anything that goes beyond what they can grasp they disparage as unbelievable, suspecting it of being a lie. For this reason I will not say anything about that incredible harvest during the famine, when the amount of grain available seemed to remain the same even after everybody had got as much as they needed. Nor will I mention other things even stranger than this – the healing of illnesses, the expulsion of demons and the prophecies that proved to be true. All these things, incredible though they may seem, are believed to be true by those who know all the details. But such stories are regarded as unacceptable by people who have a less spiritual view, those who do not know that grace is distributed according to the measure of faith, and is granted in small amounts to those who have little faith, but in abundance to those who have a lot of room for faith in them. So that those who have less faith will not be harmed by being given the opportunity to deny faith in God’s gifts, I have decided to leave out Macrina’s more remarkable miracles, thinking it sufficient to outline her story in the way I have done here.