CHRYSOSTOM'S life will give a better insight into the state of the church at the close of the fourth century than any mere description can do.
John Chrysostom was born at Antioch about A.D. 347. His father had died when he was an infant, but his mother was a godly woman who felt that her work was to devote herself to the care and bringing up of this son, and she remained a widow for that purpose.
Chrysostom was educated for the bar, and began to practice as an advocate, in which occupation he was soon renowned for his eloquence. This would speedily have drawn him into the world, but the pious instructions of his mother began to bear fruit, and he was early struck with the contrast between the lives of true Christians and those who bore its name only.
He soon discovered also the difficulties of being both a Christian and an advocate. To accept fees to use his eloquence to bolster up a bad cause and make it appear a good one, seemed to him to be practicing a lie—to be taking the devil's wages—to sin indeed against his own soul.
He also had a particular friend named Basil, who had resolved to adopt the monastic life, and though Chrysostom could not at first give up the world and follow his friend, he did so after a time. Melitus, at that time bishop of Antioch, is described as "mild, holy, and orthodox," and he was soon attracted by the gifts of the young man, and seemed to see he would be a shining light in the church. Though Chrysostom's mother was a Christian, he had never been baptized, and after living apart from the world for three years, he was baptized and ordained as a "reader," and thus was employed to read the scriptures in public.
He now proposed to seek some secluded spot with his friend Basil, where they could practice a rigid asceticism. But his pious mother besought him so earnestly with tears not to desert her, that he gave way and went home with her. But he would be a recluse, nevertheless. He ate but little and seldom, and that of the plainest food. He slept on the bare boards, and rose frequently at night to pray. He seldom left the house, and when in company he spoke but little lest he should sin with his tongue.
Diodorus was head of a monastery near Antioch, and he taught Chrysostom to avoid the allegorizing interpretation of scripture so common in the early church, and to let scripture speak for itself and mean what it said. This was of great use to Chrysostom in his after life, when he became instructor of others; though, strange to say, he was a party to a gross act of deception soon after, thinking the end justified the means: indeed, he even went so far as to say that Jacob's acts were "not a deceit but an economy.”
What he did was this. Some of the bishoprics in Syria became vacant, and those interested in the matter looked about for suitable men to fill the offices, and they fixed upon Chrysostom and his friend Basil. Chrysostom shrank from the responsibility and determined not to accept it; but in order to get Basil to accept the office, he pretended to agree to it, and that they should both accept the proposal and be consecrated together. Whether Basil agreed to this or not is not clear, for we read that Basil was "seized," carried before the bishop, and ordained. But when they attempted to do the same to Chrysostom he was not to be found, for he had concealed himself until all danger was past. A strange way surely of making a man a bishop! and in direct opposition to the scriptural injunction not to lay hands suddenly on any man. (1 Tim. 5:2222Lay hands suddenly on no man, neither be partaker of other men's sins: keep thyself pure. (1 Timothy 5:22).) And strange conduct of Chrysostom, supposed to be so conscientious: he only laughed at Basil's remonstrances afterward and was glad his plot had succeeded!
Chrysostom tells us of a narrow escape he had soon after this, in which he believed he was saved by God's overruling hand. A severe edict had been issued at Antioch against practicing magical arts, and anyone possessing a book on the subject was held to be guilty and was in danger of torture if not death. He was one day walking with a friend near the river Orontes, when they saw in the water part of a book and at once fished it out; but to their horror discovered it to be on the magical arts. At that moment, too, they observed a soldier approaching-what could they do with the book? To keep and attempt to hide it would show they were guilty; to be seen to throw it into the water was equally dangerous. They, however, flung it into the river, and were allowed to pass on unchallenged.
Soon after this he left the city and joined himself to a monk of severe habits, and there spent four years in crucifying the flesh. But, alas, he found that his flesh was stronger than he was—he could not subdue it. He would retire to a more lonely spot and be still more severe with himself. He found a cavern in a lonely place exposed to the cold, and there by scarcity of food and little sleep, if he did not succeed in killing the flesh he nearly succeeded in killing himself. At the end of two years he had to give it all up and return, with a shattered frame, to his home at Antioch. The flesh cannot be killed while life remains, and it is not to be conquered thus: power, given by life in Christ, and being led of the Holy Spirit, is the only way in which the flesh can be conquered (Gal. 5:66For in Jesus Christ neither circumcision availeth any thing, nor uncircumcision; but faith which worketh by love. (Galatians 5:6)): "killed" it cannot be.
Chrysostom was soon at work again: first he was made deacon by Meletius in A.D. 381, and then presbyter by Flavian, bishop of Antioch, in A.D. 386. We see by the case of Chrysostom that being a "deacon" in those days was not simply to look after the poor and dispense the alms; for we find that during the four years he was a "deacon" he had become quite popular by his aptness to teach others, though perhaps privately. When he was ordained presbyter he began to preach, and for ten years his principal occupation was preaching in the church or cathedral; and, strange as it may seem to us, his sermons not only drew together large congregations, but his eloquence drew forth "loud and noisy applause." This did not please him, for he often rebuked it as unseemly for such occasions.
In A.D. 387 Antioch drew upon itself the wrath of the emperor Theodosius. A call for a large sum of money from the city to pay the army was received with general discontent. From grumbling things came to uproar and revolt. The lower classes, and especially those who are to be found in every city who have nothing to lose, proceeded to acts of violence. The public baths were sacked, and then an attack was made on the prætorium. Here the governor was overpowered and had to escape by a back door. The judgment hall was decorated with portraits of the emperors: here, too, were statues of Theodosius and his deceased wife Flaccilla; but nothing was spared: the pictures were torn to shreds, and the statues smashed to atoms. Further destruction was stopped by the appearance of a body of archers sent by the prefect, and at length order was restored. But now every one was appalled at what had happened: what would the emperor say and do to such a direct insult to himself and his beloved wife? He was remarkable for his outbursts of passion, and all feared he would not distinguish between the guilty and the innocent, but destroy the city with a general massacre. Flavian was at that time absent from the city, but disregarding his infirmities, he started at once to see, and attempt to appease the wrath of the emperor. In the meantime imperial commissioners arrived, and began to arrest, torture, and put to death those whom they thought to be the most guilty; but deadly fear fell upon all, and many prepared for flight.
Chrysostom at once was stirred into action.
His addresses now were specially directed to quelling the fears of the citizens generally, while he turned it to an occasion of loudly calling the unconverted to repentance. If there was cause for so much fear because of the anger of a man—an emperor—what real cause of fear was there as to their being able to meet an angry God!
Flavian was successful in his endeavors to calm the angry emperor, and obtained pardon for the guilty city as a whole, though many had already been put to death.
The labors of Chrysostom were not in vain—many of the pagan citizens were won over to the faith. He speaks of the great labor he had afterward in establishing those who had turned from idols in consequence of this calamity.
These things occurred in A.D. 387, and for ten years longer Chrysostom spent his time here in preaching, exhorting, &c. Many of his sermons are left on record as commentaries on various parts of the word of God. But he was not to remain here all his life. A great and unexpected change awaited him, and it was brought about in this way.
In A.D. 397, the bishop of Constantinople, Nectarius, died, and many inquiries were made as to who should succeed him. It was a very honorable position at that time, the bishop being the Metropolitan of that district of the church, and sometimes called archbishop. Many were the aspiring candidates who in an unseemly manner pressed their claims.
At this time the weak Arcadius was emperor of the East, and though the bishop was nominally chosen by the clergy, the real choice lay with the emperor, or rather with his prime minister, who now was Eutropius, the chief eunuch. Eutropius had heard Chrysostom preach, and knew of his influence with the people; thereupon, passing by all the importunate candidates, he proposed to the electing bishops "John of Antioch," and he was at once accepted. And now came a piece of deception to be played on Chrysostom, such as he had once connived at in the case of his friend Basil. He was privately enticed to a martyrs' chapel outside the city. There he was taken possession of by officers sent for the purpose, and, before any alarm could be given, was conveyed to Pagrae, the first post station on the road to Constantinople. He protested against such treatment, but he was not heeded. He made all sorts of inquiries, but could get no information as to his fate. At Pagrae he was placed in a chariot, and, with a military escort, was driven from stage to stage with all speed until he reached Constantinople—eight hundred miles—a prisoner.
Chrysostom had seen too much of such ways of making bishops, to know it was any use resisting; he was therefore duly installed. Theophilus, patriarch of Alexandria, had to perform the consecration, and this he was very unwilling to do; for he had a favorite candidate of his own who would better have suited his purpose. But the prime minister knew of certain charges against Theophilus, and of which he held the proofs: he declared he would use these against him and bring him to trial if he refused. Theophilus gave way, and Chrysostom was consecrated bishop of Constantinople, on February 26th, 398, in the presence of a large company.
It was soon discovered at Constantinople that their new bishop was a very different man from the easy-going Nectarius, who had lived in great magnificence, keeping a good table and giving banquets to the clergy and laity. All this was changed by the ascetic habits of Chrysostom. The costly plate and rich equipage of the palace were sold off, and the money given to benevolent objects, and he ate his frugal meals of common fare in his chamber alone. Until pressed, he shunned the court and the society of the rich; and, when drawn out, he spoke but little so that he was soon judged to be morose, niggardly, and proud.
On the other hand, he was bishop, and had now to take the oversight of all the clergy in the city, and by many of them he was disliked even more than by those in high station; for he was brought into closer contact with them, and had to set aside several for gross sins, and refuse the Lord's supper to others.
He revived an old custom of services at night for the benefit of those who were unable to attend the services in the day. This also gave great offense to the clergy, who studied their own ease-rather than the good of the people.
It is to be feared that the rigid asceticism of Chrysostom led him to rule the clergy with a rough hand as well as a firm one. Strictly sincere himself, he could make no allowance for anything that deviated from the path he laid down; so that his rule appeared to be one of iron rather than of love. Anything but happy fellowship was the result.
With the general public he soon rose into favor because of his sermons. We may hope that some were attracted by the truths he expounded, but certainly many were drawn by his eloquent denunciations of vice and folly, no matter where found. The clergy were no more pleased than the aristocracy by these public orations, to which the people flocked in crowds.
The bishop also pleased the emperor and his clever consort Eudoxia, who was gradually rising into power over both the weak emperor and his favorite prime minister. The empress and the bishop were brought into closer contact by the following circumstance. In a whim of mere religiousness she had founded a martyr's chapel in honor of St. Thomas, on the sea-shore of Drypia, about nine miles from the city; and she was now desirous of carrying thither the bones of some unknown martyrs, treasured up in a Greek Church. Of course the bishop must take a prominent part in such a ceremony. It was effected at night-time with a profuse display of torches. The empress, in her diadem and purple, walking by the side of the bishop and attended by nobles and ladies, followed the chest containing the sacred bones, and behind them the clergy and all communities of the people, male and female, followed, so that the light of the torches was compared to a "river of fire." The morning had dawned before the chapel was reached, and then Chrysostom had to preach his sermon. But, alas! instead of telling forth the folly of such ceremonies, his sermon was full of unseemly praises of the empress, and expressions of his joy in taking part on such an occasion. On the next day the emperor paid his devotions at the same place, and another sermon of the bishop told of the piety and humility of the emperor. Such things seem marvelously strange in this day, but it gives a true picture of the state into which the church had fallen in that comparatively early age; and this conduct, too, is that of one universally styled a great and good man. Alas if such things were done in a green tree, what might be expected in a dry?
Chrysostom had however nobler work. The Goths had attacked the Roman empire, and had probably taken some Christians among the prisoners, by whom Christianity was made known to the barbarians. Certainly, many of the Goths professed Christianity. On persecution arising among their own people, many were allowed to take refuge in some parts of the Roman empire, and many were now found at Constantinople, and these drew forth the sympathies of Chrysostom to care for their souls: these were for the most part Arians. The bishop had certain portions of the scriptures translated into their native tongue, and these were read to them, in one of the churches set apart for the purpose, by a Gothic presbyter, who afterward addressed them, and Chrysostom himself at times preached to them through an interpreter. He also was the cause of missionaries being sent to the Gothic and Scythian tribes at their homes on the banks of the Danube.
In A.D. 399, Chrysostom had his heart drawn out in another direction. The eunuch Eutropius, first minister in the State, was, as we have seen, the means of the bishop's election. He had hoped that Chrysostom, in return, would have sanctioned his plans and purposes, not always right and good. But he found in the bishop a man of quite a different stamp; instead of helping on the statesman, he denounced all dishonorable transactions from the pulpit, though he did not name to whom his remarks applied.
This would have placed Chrysostom in great danger, had not the haughty eunuch given grave offense to the empress, who was now able to hurl the favorite from his high position. Eutropius had attempted to abolish the right of taking refuge in a church, because some of his victims had thus escaped the punishment he intended for them; but now, no sooner was there an outcry for his own death, than he ran into the church and clung, not to the horns of the altar now, but to the communion table, for safety. Loud demands were made by the soldiers and populace for the victim to be given up to them; but to these the bishop gave a persistent refusal.
Their indignation now turned upon the bishop, and he was marched off to the emperor. Here he so pleaded for the life of Eutropius, though his enemy, that he moved the emperor to agree to perpetual banishment instead of death.
The next day was Sunday. Chrysostom failed not to show how unstable were all earthly favors and honors, pointing to the fallen statesman, to be seen through the curtains still clinging fast to the table. We hope he pointed also to those glories which Christ could give and which none could take away.
The culprit was saved for the present and exiled to Cyprus, but soon afterward was put to death.
In the next year (A.D. 400) the Goths, having brought an army near to Constantinople, demanded three of the chief men of the city to be given up to them, and also that one of the churches of the city should be handed over to them for Arian worship. This roused Chrysostom: he braved the danger of going to the enemy's camp, and there used his eloquence before the chief, Gainas, on behalf of the three who, to save the State, had surrendered themselves; and to divert him from his purpose as to the church; for he resolved that, cost what it would, no misbeliever should publicly worship in the city. He gained this point also. At length the emperor saw no way of saving the city from pillage and bloodshed but by declaring war against the Goths. The city was roused into activity, and the Goths were conquered.
We thus see how varied were the duties of a bishop in those days, at least, of one who, whatever his failings may have been, had Christianity truly at heart, as far as he himself understood it. But he soon felt himself called upon to oppose one yet more formidable. The empress had got rid of Eutropius, and was free also from the interference of the Gothic chief; the bishop now only stood in her way of ruling her weak husband just as she wished. Her religious zeal had all evaporated, and she was now seeking to ruin the bishop. An occasion soon presented itself.
In the General Council, A.D. 381, the bishop of Constantinople was declared to rank next to the bishop of Rome, the bishops of Alexandria and Antioch following, yet it was not well defined nor well acknowledged how far the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan of Constantinople extended. Thus, while some of the outlying districts would at one time respect his authority when he was in their favor, they refused it at another when he was against them. The actual collision arose thus. At a synod of bishops, held at Constantinople in A.D. 400, Eusebius of Valentinopolis accused Antoninus (bishop of Ephesus) of selling some bishoprics, of melting down the church plate, &c. An investigation was set on foot, but the accused died before any decision was arrived at. The Ephesian clergy invited Chrysostom to come and endeavor to set matters right. He went at once, and removed six bishops for simony, and proceeded to correct other abuses with his usual sternness. This gained him many enemies among the clergy in that district.
In the meantime his own position was being undermined at Constantinople. He had left Severian, bishop of Gabala, to be his deputy in his absence; but he joined with Chrysostom's enemies to bring about his ruin. The empress was at the head of it, together with a number of ladies in high life, whose arts to make themselves attractive the bishop had ridiculed in his addresses. Two bishops had also arrived at Constantinople: Antiochus, bishop of Ptolemais, and Acacius of Berœa, who also joined in the empress's plot. Chrysostom's archdeacon kept him informed of these growing troubles, and urged again and again the bishop's return; but three months elapsed before he had concluded his business.
When once there, he went into the pulpit and publicly attacked, in unseemly language, both Antiochus and Severian as flatterers and parasites. A short time after, having chosen a text from the history of Elijah, he said: "Gather together to me those base priests that eat at Jezebel's table, that I may say to them, as Elijah of old, 'How long halt ye between two opinions?'.... If Jezebel's table be the table of the Lord, eat at it, eat at it till you vomit." Whether Chrysostom meant it or not, the allusion was taken to point to the empress as Jezebel, and it is not easy to see to whom else it could apply. This insult the empress could not overlook, and his doom was sealed.
A quarrel sprang up between Severian and Serapion, the bishop's archdeacon, who charged the former with a blasphemous denial of the divinity of Christ. Chrysostom rashly listened to this, and, without due investigation, deposed Severian and banished him from the city. The populace took up Chrysostom's cause, and Severian was obliged to fly for his life. But he had served the empress, who now, hiding her purposes, pleaded earnestly for the exile, and even placed her infant son on Chrysostom's knees in the church. He could not refuse such an appeal, and absolved Severian, and peace was so far restored.
But it was only a temporary lull before the coming storm. The empress could not forget being compared to Jezebel, and Severian was now a more determined enemy than ever. A leader of the conspiracy was found in Theophilus, bishop of Alexandria, who had never forgotten nor forgiven having been compelled to consecrate Chrysostom. A plea for his interference soon presented itself. A number of monks, called because of their stature, "the Tall Brethren," had come to Constantinople and been well received by Chrysostom. They had been persecuted by Theophilus, on the plea of heresy, but it was believed it was really because they knew too much of his evil deeds. They had fled from place to place, and, he still pursuing them, they came to Constantinople to appeal to the emperor and Chrysostom for protection. Theophilus was summoned to appear before a council at Constantinople to answer the charges these monks made against him. He felt obliged to obey the summons, but set his wits to work to make matters turn to the condemnation of Chrysostom rather than of himself.
Theophilus arrived with the curious escort of a number of rough sailors of the port of Alexandria, and with not a few rich presents to gain over to his cause those who could be purchased. He refused all intercourse with Chrysostom, and soon succeeded with several of the clergy and the influential citizens by sumptuous banquets and a distribution of his gifts. And then, instead of his case being submitted to a council, he summoned Chrysostom to a synod to be held at a place called " the Oak," in the suburb of Chalcedon on the other side of the Bosphorus. Thirty-six bishops, nearly all Egyptian and dependent upon Theophilus, the rest being known enemies of Chrysostom, formed the synod. A list of twenty-nine articles formed the charge against Chrysostom, and he was summoned to appear and plead. It had been drawn up by two deacons whom he had been compelled to depose for gross sins.
Many of the charges were frivolous in the extreme, though some were more serious, as to the misappropriation of the church funds. Others touched his private life—his want of hospitality: one, "he had private interviews with women;” “he dined gluttonously by himself as a cyclops would eat," he had changed his robes on the episcopal throne; and he had eaten a lozenge after the Lord's supper, &c.
A second list was also drawn up, among which was the charge of comparing the empress to Jezebel, and this was made to signify inciting the people to rebellion.
Chrysostom was summoned four times, but refused to appear before such a tribunal composed of his enemies only: he appealed to an impartial council. In the meantime he called together a synod of forty bishops, who protested against the proceedings of the synod at "the Oak." This was disregarded, and on receiving an order from the court to come to a speedy conclusion, those at "the Oak" deposed Chrysostom. They would hardly have done this, had it not been that the empress had now the chief ordering of the empire, and she was his deadly enemy. The synod professed to leave the charge of treason to the State, and hoped that the accused would be condemned to death. The empress, however, knew how the bishop was beloved by the people, and was content to get the decision of the synod ratified and sentence him to banishment for life.
No sooner, however, was the sentence known than the people rose to protect their bishop, and formed a guard round both his residence and the great church. A sign from Chrysostom would have raised an insurrection; but he exhorted the people to patience and resignation to the will of God. "Glory be to God for all things," was his favorite exclamation. On the third day he took occasion to slip out unperceived, and gave himself up to the officers, who, after dark, conducted him to the harbor, and put him on board a vessel bound to Hieron, at the mouth of the Euxine. His enemies were in high glee, and Theophilus proceeded to punish those who had supported the bishop; while his friends and the people flocked to the gates of the palace, demanding a fair trial for their beloved bishop, and a revolt seemed imminent.
But, strange to say, on the following night the city was shaken by an earthquake, and, a shock being felt severely in the bed-chamber of the empress, she was filled with great superstitious fear, and, falling on her knees, entreated the emperor to avert the judgment of heaven by revoking the sentence and recalling the expelled bishop. This was at once done, and messengers were soon despatched by several routes to call back the bishop. His friends, too, were filled with joy, and, seizing on what boats could be had, they went forth with torches to meet and give him a hearty welcome. He came to the gates of the city, and then hesitated to enter until he was acquitted by a general council. But the people, fearing another plot against him, were ready to revolt, when the emperor sent a messenger begging him to enter at once. He obeyed, and was carried by the people through the city, taken at once to the church, placed on his throne, and an address demanded. A council of about sixty bishops declared the proceedings of the synod of "the Oak" null and void, and that Chrysostom was the bishop of Constantinople. On the other hand, Theophilus dared not shew his face in the city, and privately left for his own diocese.
Thus peace was restored, and now the empress and the bishop were again great friends, at least outwardly, praising each other in an unseemly manner. But peace brought about by such means had no real foundation, and was soon again shattered to pieces. Within about two months the collision took place, and was thus brought about. Eudoxia had virtually the ruling of the eastern empire, but she aspired now to higher honors than this. She caused a column of porphyry to be erected near the church of St. Sophia, on which was placed her statue in silver, for the adoration, it is said, of the people. This was a common thing among the heathen emperors, but how could this be with Christians? At any rate, in September, 403, it was dedicated amid tumultuous and licentious proceedings, very like those that had been customary among them when pagans. The noise of this dedication penetrated into the church and disturbed the worshippers. Chrysostom could not endure this pagan proceeding, and at once, with great rashness, denounced in his sermons the whole thing: the authorities and the people were all roughly handled, but especially the empress, whose image was to be adored. He is reported to have said, "Herodias is once more maddening; Herodias is once more dancing; once more Herodias demands the head of John on a charger." Who could be the John but Chrysostom? and who could be the Herodias but Eudoxia?
It is not to be wondered at that this—whether exactly reported or not is not known—should revive all the deep-seated enmity of the empress, and she loudly demanded redress. This was no sooner known than all Chrysostom's old enemies rose as one man to seek his destruction. It so happened that the bishop had been for some time asking the emperor to call a general council. Now this was the very thing. Yes, they would call a council, but not a general one; it would be easy, in spite of the bishop's many friends, to call such a one as would be sure to condemn him.
Theophilus did not personally attend, though he was one of the chief actors in the plot, and he had now a decree ready that would at once condemn the bishop. In the council of Antioch, A.D. 341, the 12th canon condemned any one who had been once deposed, if such appealed to the secular arm for restoration. Chrysostom had not really done this: the secular arm had appealed to him, and he had not resumed his duties until he had been cleared by a council. But it was quite near enough in resemblance when injustice wanted a plea, and on this he was condemned, though no formal resolution is recorded.
The council met at the end of A.D. 403, and was continued to the Easter following. The emperor had abstained from the Lord's supper at Christmas, on the plea that he did not know whether Chrysostom was really bishop, and as Easter approached, when a great festival in the church was held, it was thought desirable to get rid of Chrysostom, so as not to shut out the emperor again from the eucharist. Still the emperor hesitated until Antiochus and his companions stoutly assured him that Chrysostom was no longer bishop. The order for his removal was given, but, on the officer presenting it to the bishop, he replied with firmness that he had received his office from God and would not desert it. The emperor might expel him by force if he pleased; violence would be his excuse before God for leaving his post. He was then ordered to keep himself a prisoner in his house and not enter the cathedral. But the bishop would obey God rather than man, and go he would; he expected 3,000 catechumens to present themselves on this occasion: the guards feared to stop him. The emperor now reproached the bishops for being the means of things coming to this state, when they declared again that Chrysostorn was no longer bishop, and they would take the responsibility of his being removed. The emperor was glad of shifting the responsibility on to others, and ordered the arrest of the bishop.
It was on the night before the day that spoke of the resurrection. A vast crowd filled the cathedral. Baptism was being administered to a long file of catechumens, who had removed their outer garments for the occasion. On a sudden the soldiers appeared, and, with drawn swords, took possession of the place. Those near the front were driven away, some wounded, and, as an eye-witness puts it, "the waters of regeneration were stained with blood." Those driven into the streets sought refuge with some of the clergy in the baths of the city, the waters of which were consecrated and the baptisms went on; but only to be again disturbed, and the people driven out by the soldiers—who were mostly rude barbarians from Thrace, and who did their work roughly. The persecutions were continued all Easter week, whenever it was known that any of Chrysostom's clergy were continuing his work. The horrors of that week were long remembered in the city.
In the meantime Chrysostom was a prisoner in his own house, but guarded by his friends outside. Still he was in real danger, his assassination being twice attempted. Thus he remained for two months before the timid emperor could be induced to order his banishment. He may have feared another earthquake. At length the blow was struck, and the order given. Chrysostom bowed to it, and surrendered himself, after a visit to the church with a few friends for prayer. He had to steal away to avoid a tumult. Two bishops refused to leave him, and the three were at once conveyed on board ship and taken by night to the Asiatic shore. They had, however, scarcely left the place, when a fire broke out in the church they had so lately left. The church was consumed, and the fire spread also to some public buildings. It was never ascertained how the fire originated, but suspicion fell on the bishop's friends, and many were put to the torture in order to draw out a confession. Two are named—Tigrius a presbyter, and Eutropius a reader—who expired under their tortures, and others are mentioned who remained maimed or disabled for life; but no confession was gained. This was followed by rigorous persecution of all who refused to bow to the one put into Chrysostom's place.
Appeal was made to the church in the western empire by Chrysostom and the persecuted bishops who held with him, through those who were accounted to be in influential positions, such as Innocent bishop of Rome, Venerius bishop of Milan, and Chromatius bishop of Aquileia. On the other hand, Theophilus sent his charges. The bishop of Rome judged the council who condemned Chrysostom to have been irregular, and he remonstrated sharply with Theophilus and condoled with the exile. He also got Honorius, the Western emperor, to write to his brother Arcadius urging him to call a general council, and the letter was entrusted to some Western bishops. But the empress ruled, aided by the bishops and others, and these messengers were not allowed to approach the emperor, the letters being snatched from them, and they treated with contempt. Injustice ruled supreme.
Chrysostom was sent to a most inclement spot—Cucusus, "a lonely mountain village buried in the depths of a valley of the Tauric range, on the borders of Cilicia and the Lesser Armenia." Remonstrance was vain: go he must. A long journey through a desolate country lay before him, and yet he was to be taken with all speed, regardless of his health or strength, and this in the great heat of midsummer. The villages fixed on for resting-places could give him only the barest fare of hard black bread, very unsuitable for him; this, with unwholesome water, brought on ague-fever. Still, on he must move: the orders were imperative. At length, more dead than alive, he reached Cæsarea. The bishop here was no friend of his, though some of the clergy were; so he pretended to sympathize with him, but really avoided him, and would be glad to see him gone. He was really too ill to travel, but a body of fanatical monks attacked the house and demanded that he should be sent away. A lady took him into her country house, but the bishop of Cæsarea compelled her to turn him out in the night, under the plea that the banditti were about and he must fly for his life. He had to be led or nearly carried along, and at length reached his destination towards the end of August.
Here he was kindly received, and more than one offered him hospitality. Many of his friends at Constantinople had estates in that neighborhood, and directed their stewards to send him supplies. He was now nearer Antioch, his former scene of labors, and was visited by some of his old friends. He occupied his time in receiving and writing letters, and his influence was felt far and near; indeed, he seemed to become the principal guiding star of the church both in its western and eastern portions. His counsel was sought from all quarters, and few things of real importance were undertaken without consulting the exiled bishop. If it was the rooting out of heresy, he was the one who directed the course to be taken; if it was destroying the remains of pagan observances, he was the directing power; and if it was extending the operations of the church, he was the one who exhorted to it. While, at the same time, he comforted and exhorted the faithful, and warned and sought to recover those who had gone astray. He also used much of the money sent to him for benevolent purposes and in cases of need around him.
But the spot where he was had great disadvantages. It was subject to inroads of Isaurian robbers, who would rush down upon the peaceful inhabitants to kill and rob. The climate also was severe, especially to such a worn-out frame as that of Chrysostom. He had to remain at home during the winter, with fires always burning, and many blankets on his bed; and, at times, had to keep his bed for weeks together.
In the winter of the year 405, intelligence reached the place that the banditti were coming, and nearly the whole town took to flight, Chrysostom, among them, hobbling along as well as he could with a few faithful followers, passing the nights in forests or ravines with but little shelter, until they reached the mountain fort of Arabissus, described more as a prison than a home; there he spent the winter in much distress. In the spring he was glad to get back again to his home at Cucusus, inclement as that was, and again receive his letters and send forth his epistles far and wide. He seemed to have a strong persuasion that he should again be restored to his diocese and to his beloved people, though this was not to be.
The relentless Eudoxia had passed from the scene by death, but had left many enemies of Chrysostom, who were disappointed and amazed to find that banishment had neither killed the old man nor hindered him from making his voice heard so universally in the church. They now obtained an order for his removal to a still more inclement spot—the worst in the whole empire—to the small town of Pityus at the base of the Caucasus on the north-east of the Euxine. Two guards were chosen to convey him thither— men remarkable for their harshness. They were to take him there on foot with all speed, and regardless of his health or of the weather—with a private hint, says bishop Palladius, that if he died on the road they might expect promotion! Towns were to be avoided, all letters to be refused him, and no one was allowed to aid him on the journey.
For three months the weary journey was pursued—his poor body being shriveled up with the heat of the sun. They had reached Comana, he being more dead than alive; but he was not allowed to rest there—he must go on to a chapel some five or six miles beyond, where they were to spend the night. This chapel was supposed to have been erected over the tomb of the martyr Basiliscus. Chrysostom fell asleep and dreamed that he saw the martyr by his side, who said to him, "Be of good cheer; on the morrow we shall be together." The presbyter in charge of the chapel, it was said, had also seen a vision bidding him "prepare a place for our brother John.”
In the morning the old man begged for a halt, but it was denied him: he must go on, but they had not proceeded far when a fever attacked him, and made progress hopeless—they therefore returned to the chapel. Here he was clothed in white baptismal robes, and partook of the Lord's supper. He prayed, ending with his "Glory be to God for all things, Amen," and fell asleep. It was September 14, 407. He had been bishop ten years, but three and a quarter of these he had spent in exile.
About thirty years afterward, when Theodosius II was emperor, the remains of Chrysostom were removed with great ceremony to Constantinople, and interred in the church of the Holy Apostles, the emperor and his sister Pulcheria praying for the pardon of heaven for the persecution by their parents of this holy man.
We have not only the life of Chrysostom, but also his numerous writings, which throw much light upon the state of the church in his days. Montfaucon collected enough to fill thirteen folio volumes.
It will have been seen how subject the church had become to the state. An emperor, or even his chief minister, could make bishops of whom he pleased; he could call councils when he pleased, and, by taking care as to who were invited, bring about any decisions he pleased. Many of the clergy had become mere tools in the hands of those in authority, and aided each other in carrying out plans for personal enrichment, as well as in enforcing their wishes by persecution.
Chrysostom, as we have seen, had to remove several of the clergy because of their having purchased their livings, and others for their immoral lives: all shewing the sad low state into which those had fallen who ought to have been examples to the flock. We would fain hope that these were the exceptions and not the rule. Still Chrysostom speaks of the state of many of the clergy as beyond belief, evinced not only by the means used to obtain their dignities, but by their undeniable profligacy and their restless ambition for power.
As to his hearers generally, he is no less severe, laying bare all the follies and sins of the age, while he warned and exhorted those who had made profession of faith.
One great feature in the character of Chrysostom was his love of scripture, doubtless instilled into him by his pious mother. His writings constantly quote it, and he publicly exhorted the flock to read the Bible. Business in all its shapes, and the family in all its cares, were no excuse for neglecting the Bible. "It is a plain book," said he, "the artisan, slave, and widow, may understand it;" the earnest reader would profit by it though he had none to explain it. It was of no value to possess it merely, or hang portions of it round their necks—they needed it in their souls. In those days of manuscripts only, few could afford to purchase even a whole New Testament; he exhorted them to buy portions of it, according as they had the means.
Chrysostom preached the holiness and love of God, the divinity of our Lord, the atonement by His death, the personality and work of the Holy Spirit, the walk of faith, and the eternal happiness that awaited the faithful. But it is to be feared that he did not preach the gospel fully and freely, even so far as the forgiveness of sins. It was too much mixed up with philosophy. Thus, how often would he dwell on the exalted merit and angelic perfection of celibacy, almost to the exclusion of perfect Christianity in the married state!
Another thing that damaged his gospel was the exalting the church and its ordinances unduly. Baptism was "the pool of regeneration," and the Lord's supper, "the altar of sacrifice.” How could such thoughts agree with pardon through the work of Christ alone? He knew that ordinances did not avail without faith in the atonement, and yet he would often exhort to repentance and faith, and then, as if the work of Christ was not enough, he would exhort the people to partake of the Lord's supper—"as of a mystery, initiation into which would banish evil, curb Satan, and open the portals of heaven.”
As to the terms he uses respecting the Lord's supper, and partaking of the body and blood of Christ, he has been claimed by Roman Catholics as teaching transubstantiation, and by Protestants as not teaching it.
The rules and orders of the church were thought much of in his days. Thus, at his trial, while he could calmly deny graver charges, the thought that he had baptized anyone after he himself had eaten, was dreadful and worthy of a curse! When charged with giving the eucharist to some who had not fasted, he exclaimed, "If I have done so, let me be rejected by Christ," Such things were apparently in his eyes greater sins than moral iniquities. Was not this the setting of the traditions of the church before the plain injunctions of the word of God?
Thus we see how, at that time, the foundations were being laid on which ritualism was afterward erected; there may have been no thought of its undermining God's foundation of grace and truth; but, as we plainly read in the word of God, there can be no other foundation laid whereby men can be saved, nor must the word of God be added to nor taken from. And there is that solemn word that "we have an altar whereof they have no right to eat which serve the tabernacle." (Heb. 13:1010We have an altar, whereof they have no right to eat which serve the tabernacle. (Hebrews 13:10).) If Christ is not enough, the whole is lost. The ordinances are quite right in their place, but salvation cannot be obtained by them.