The Life of Maximus

Saint Maximus the Confessor · the golden age of the Fathers

The Life of Maximus

Copyright © 2026 Theologians Press. Translation copyright © 2026 Tyler Rhain Holliday. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Purchase of this volume conveys no license to reproduce, distribute, or commercialize its contents, nor to republish it, in whole or in part, under this or any other name or imprint. The Ancient Life and Contest of Our Holy Father and Translated by T.R. Holliday This volume presents the ancient Life and Contest of Our Holy Father and Confessor Maximus (c. 580–662), the record by which the Church has remembered the birth, education, monastic labors, confessions, trials, and final exile of the great confessor of the two wills and two operations of Christ. This has been prepared for purchase in Theologians Bible by Theologians Press, translated by T.R. Holliday. THE LIFE AND CONTEST OF OUR HOLY FATHER AND The Life and Contest of Our Holy Father and Confessor Maximus 1. The life of all who have lived according to God is profitable and beneficial, as urging one on toward virtue, and whetting one for the imitation of what is good; but that of the divine Maximus, the Confessor, is, in proportion as it is great and renowned before all, so much the more effective for training one to courage, and most excellent of all for benefiting the soul.

For that man possessed not only a superhuman life, but also delightful discourse, and a noble and unwavering contest; the very memory of which is known to bring much pleasure, and to instill in God-loving souls a great longing for virtue. Whence the present discourse, being about to speak of the things concerning him, both wishes, and has much cause, to set forth and present in detail each of his deeds, that it may itself become more pleasant through their remembrance, and lay up great grace for its hearers; yet it has no way either to grasp the whole together, or, even of what it does grasp in summary, to speak the praise owed for it, since even the least of the wondrous man’s accomplishments proves greater than the power of discourse. I think it reasonable, then, that I too should be excused for not going through everything, since it is neither easy nor readily accomplished for discourse; nor is anyone to be blamed for the omission, since no one before us, as far as we know, has yet applied himself to all that concerns the man, seeing the undertaking to be difficult and hard to attain. Yet, that we may not seem altogether to pass over so great a subject, and, because it is not possible for us to attain the whole, leave off the whole entirely — which I think would be unprofitable, and not without blame — it is therefore necessary for me to bring forward the present discourse, even though I know it to be very slight, and falling far short of the facts.

For thus I should both fulfill what falls to me, and discharge to you the debt that those who exact an account of him, if anything else, exact without excuse. And if the discourse should, in passing, also call to mind certain other things that happened at that time, this is not at all outside the discourse, nor unreasonable, since the times then, as you know, stirred up much outrage against the truth; but we must, as far as possible, narrate from the beginning the things concerning the saint, for whose sake we have also undertaken the present discourse.

2. To Maximus, then, the divine and confessor, his fatherland was the first and great city of Constantinople, which discourse also knows to call New Rome. His parents were nobly born from of old, and second to few in worldly distinction; but their special mark was piety, and inclination and attachment to virtue, so that from this rather than from their lineage they might carry their splendor. These, having brought this blessed one into the light, and, while his body was still quite new, brought him to the divine washing, that he might receive purification from infancy, permitted him none of the things that give pleasure to the young, nor allowed his mind to be occupied with such childish and infantile things — lest his unformed and tender nature be drawn toward laxity and softness of character; but, forming the noble child toward sterner and more manly things, they instilled in him a great inclination toward the good, and persuaded him to incline wholly toward virtue. And he himself, having obtained both a favorable nature and such an upbringing, even while still young had within himself the first markings of virtue, like certain shadows and outlines not dimly picturing what was to come; and he had these more precisely stamped and characterized as his age advanced further, and his mind took on a settled firmness — at which time reason and understanding and everything together looked, in him, toward what was better and more perfect.

3. And when he also attended teachers, applying himself, as was fitting, to every kind of education, what need is there to say how much knowledge he gathered to himself within a short time? Having practiced grammar and the rest of general education most diligently, and having attained the very summit of rhetoric and the art of speaking, and having listened to philosophy so laboriously that he let no one come near him even by a little. For, using a zeal that rivaled his natural gifts, he was sufficiently, and indeed exceptionally, versed in all the branches of learning; each of which he also put to use, not seldom contributing to his advancement toward better things. But philosophy, and the discourses that come from it, he cherished and loved more greatly, and set before all the others. For since he knew this to be both knowledge and understanding of what exists, and to be occupied with both contemplation and practice, and to treat of nature and the world, and simply to transmit everything else — to this he devoted the greater zeal, and bore it always in mind; yet not simply nor without judgment, but rather, having put far from him and rejected its sophistic side, and whatever partakes of deceit and false reasoning, he approved and made his own the part concerned with reasoning, and doctrines, and the other logical methods and demonstrations.

For what did a false premise, and a plaiting of spurious syllogisms, and such a conclusion, and whatever else defiles true wisdom, matter to him? For it was far from being the case that such a thing ever concerned him, or that he could bear to incline his mind even a little toward anything that others toiled over badly. Indeed, all made him an object of wonder, for possessing such knowledge, such virtue, and yet more so, such moderation and humility — whom nothing that exists puffed up, nor persuaded to think more highly of himself: not the renown of his lineage, not his superiority in discourse over all, not the height of his virtue, not anything else at all; but he was so attached to moderation that this alone he held as the dignity and boast of his life, and prided himself more on this than if someone had bestowed on him all human glory together.

4. But it was not possible for the wondrous man, living thus, to escape notice, nor for the common benefit of him to remain hidden from others — even though he did many things daily to flee empty glory, and to avoid being caught up in the vicissitudes of life, of which even a mere brush he considered a great obstacle to virtue. But although he himself thought and acted thus, nevertheless he was caught, even against his will; the ruler then in power (this was Heraclius) summoned him to the palace with every goodwill, and appointed him first secretary of the imperial records; whom, as befitted so great a man, and of so great a household, he employed in everything at hand, and gained as a helper and collaborator in the noblest matters. For this man was most sagacious in perceiving what was needful, most skillful in proposing counsel, and most ready in extemporaneous speech; in whose company both the emperor himself and those about the palace took the greatest delight, and were forever amazed at the man.

5. But he himself, reckoning these things as of little account compared to philosophy, and glory, and wealth, and honor, and whatever pertains to excessive ambition — and especially seeing the faith at that time being innovated upon, as the doctrine of the Monothelites was doing great harm to the Church — leaves everything behind, considering association with such men a kind of defilement of the soul; and turns with zeal to the solitary life, since he had long loved to live in stillness, giving himself to the monastery on the opposite shore, called that of Chrysopolis, which was then flourishing in philosophy — there having his hair cut, and putting on the garment of hair-cloth; from which time he wore down his body continually — not only by fasting and the other hardship he now practiced, but also by devoting himself to standing all night and to intensified prayer, thereby setting the soul’s uprightness firmly in place, and tearing the mind away from matter, and loosening the bond even before its dissolution. For one who, even before entering upon the more exact life, had accustomed himself to struggles and toils, and pursued the philosophic way of life, would scarcely, after immersing himself in these, have chosen or done otherwise. Indeed, having many fellow ascetics, he surpassed them all, and remarkably obtained the primacy over all of them; who were so overcome by his virtue that they even sent a common embassy to him, begging him to preside over them, and to take up the leadership over them — for they had shortly before lost their own leader.

But he, pushing away the leadership as though it were a burdensome weight to tow, was unyielding in his refusal, and firm of purpose — neither yielding to their words, nor giving way to their entreaties. But when he saw them pressing him yet more, and even adding a measure of compulsion, he was persuaded with difficulty, and accepted the oversight — considering it not so much a position of authority as an office of accountable service.

6. From this point he became more thoughtful, and full of care for everything — not looking only to his own conduct, nor only to how he might live best himself, but to how he might guide the lives of those under him profitably, and lead them to a better way of life. For he saw within himself that those who pursue virtue on their own account will altogether be able, as they think fit, to choose the greater or the lesser of their actions, and one might forgive them for not doing great things. But for one entrusted with the guidance of souls, even a slight relaxation of exactness brings no ordinary danger, both to himself and to those under him — who must not only be excellent himself, but must always be advancing beyond what has gone before, if he is, by his own example, to lead those under his hand toward what is better, as they look to his life as to an archetype, and are thereby led either toward virtue, or, on the contrary, toward vice. Considering these things, the divine Maximus was consumed in soul; he wasted away what remained of his flesh; he was possessed by concern for his disciples. For this reason, setting before them what was better, now using a gentler manner of speech, now a harsher one; at one time applying his teaching evenly and without bite, at another bringing it forth stern and unsweetened, as he saw each one’s disposition or nature to require.

Thus was he disposed toward those under him, and with such a disposition did he exercise his oversight of them.

7. But when he saw, as we said above, the heresy of the Monothelites at that time extending itself yet more completely, and terribly increasing day by day through the patrons of impiety, he groaned, and was seized by the heaviest grief, pitying above all even those who committed such lawless acts; yet he did not know what he himself might do, so immeasurably had the evil poured itself out, having taken hold of nearly the whole East and West. Whence, in the midst of such terrible things, he found this alone advantageous, both to himself and to the situation. For since he knew that elder Rome was free of such defilement, and as much as was in Africa, and in other places and the islands round about there, leaving this place, he journeys there, to lend support to the true doctrine, and to join those there who held to orthodoxy — not without hardship, nor without toil and suffering, did he accomplish so great a journey; yet he counted everything of less account than his good zeal — using perhaps as counselors, for this departure, those who practiced monasticism alongside him; and though the separation from them was heavy and scarcely bearable, he had no other course to take than what had been decided, since the circumstances constrained him, and permitted his withdrawal. But since our narrative has run ahead, let us leave aside for now what came in between, and where this wicked and abominable opinion first arose, which so troubled the Church, and dragged many down into a like fall.

It is necessary, then, to say a little concerning it; and then to add to our discourse what follows in order.

8. When Heraclius had taken up the scepters of the empire, and Sergius held the see of Constantinople, at first Heraclius himself, and all who were about the palace, and all in office and dignity, happened to agree with the orthodox faith, confessing and proclaiming two natures, and the same activities, and wills, belonging to the divine and human natures of my Christ. But this man — alas! — after many trophies over his enemies, and that renowned prowess against the Persians, changed his correct doctrine, and the affairs of the Churches began to change along with it; and no small portion of the people also turned to the opposite side. The cause of the emperor’s change was that Athanasius, the so-called patriarch of the Jacobites — a deceitful man, and most skilled of all at confounding the truth. For this man, approaching Heraclius while he was staying at Hierapolis in Syria, and insidiously and maliciously working upon him, and enticing him with promises that he would accept the Council of Chalcedon, or that he professed the two natures united according to hypostasis (for Heraclius desired, as events showed, both to win over Athanasius himself, to whom he promised to give the see of Antioch, and also all others whom he saw not agreeing, to join to that Council; though in his simplicity and levity of mind, besides drawing no one over, he also brought the heresy upon himself) — this man, then, as has been said, having variously won Heraclius over, established him, wavering somewhat concerning the double activities and the wills of the two natures, in the opposite opinion; and by this he also persuaded him to write to Sergius of Constantinople about what had been decided.

But indeed he also says that he now summoned to himself that Cyrus of Phasis, and persuaded him too as to how one ought to think on this matter; and that whatever seemed good to these, this also seemed good to himself; for the crafty man knew that both were in agreement with the single activity and the single will. And when Heraclius had summoned Cyrus to himself, and had signified to the patriarch by letter what had been decided, he found both alike cherishing the Monothelite doctrine, and agreeing with that man himself, thinking the same things without hesitation; then indeed he became wholly of the opposite party, and of the will that should rather be called will-less, than mono-thelite.

9. And so, in haste, he communicated the decreed doctrine also to the see of Rome; as though he thought it wrong not to fill even those everywhere on earth with his own leaven, and to give them a share of the pestilent heresy. But this divine man, considering what came from that quarter to be plainly a deception, and being offended by the base heresy, not only refutes and overturns what was proposed, by written responses and forceful counter-arguments, but also encloses in anathema those who held and cherished it. But this did Heraclius no good, since the evil had not lodged itself only on the surface, but deep within; and shortly afterward he hastens also to fill Alexandria with this same defilement, sending Cyrus, his accomplice, there as bishop, so that Alexandria too might come to share the same views, and be corrupted along with it. Indeed, Cyrus, coming to terms with Theodore, bishop of Pharan, who was strongly in agreement with the Monothelites, now makes with him the so-called ’water-tinctured union’ — which I think signifies a faded and watery dye, as it were confounded and indistinguishable, preserving purely neither of the two colors — that it might be possible for them, in whichever way they wished, to confuse and mix and blend together the activity they were setting forth as doctrine, so that it was neither single, nor double, nor either — which, to speak truly, is such that it could not even be conceived or named as such.

10. But these men, as they themselves supposed, and as they persuaded those they had deceived, having ratified the single activity and the one natural will, gave both the Jacobites and the followers of Theodosius occasion to boast against our faith, and to hold up the Council of Chalcedon to laughter and mockery — who maliciously alleged that even Chalcedon itself was seen to follow their own view, and to hold to the single nature; and this was clear from the fact that it too professed the single activity — which, they say, it would not otherwise have done, had it not been ashamed before the true doctrine, and had a more complete grasp of it.

11. But at that time, Sophronius was entrusted with the see of Jerusalem, a man shining in piety and virtue; and around him gather all who were of the priestly and orthodox order, condemning, together with him, and enclosing in anathema, those who held that there was one natural activity and one will in Christ; and praising and proclaiming those who confessed and cherished, along with the two natures, the two activities together with the equal number of wills. This holy man, wishing yet further to make plain what had been set forth, declared his views concerning them, one by one, both to John of Rome (for so was he called), and to Sergius of Constantinople, and also to Cyrus of Alexandria — the latter two he censured and greatly disparaged for their doctrine, but John, as was fitting, he praised, and crowned with countless encomiums.

12. When Heraclius the emperor heard of these things, he fell into fear and anguish; being variable and changing his mind, and not knowing to what he might change the innovated doctrine — being ashamed, perhaps, of so recent a change, and an abrupt shift to the opposite view. And so he broke away from both parties — I mean those who held to the two activities, and those who held to the one — this being suggested to him by the detestable Sergius, who knew him to be easy and pliable in everything; and especially fearing lest he see him entirely torn away from their faction, and for this reason permitting the emperor to act on his will in a more clumsy manner. Whence Heraclius, delighted as at a windfall, confirms the absurdity by written decrees, and by the so-called Ekthesis — which those who held Severus’s opinions, having seen it thus set down in writing, mocked, not only at home and among themselves, but even in taverns and bathhouses, saying with unrestrained mouth, that ’Formerly, the Chalcedonians, holding Nestorius’s views (so calling us, though we had rejected their teachings), came to their senses and abstained from ill belief, being united to us through the single activity into the single nature of Christ; but now, having condemned what was right, they have lost both, confessing neither two, nor one, nature in Christ.’

There was then to be seen confusion and disturbance in the Churches, since both shepherds and people had become foolish, both rulers and ruled; there being none who understood, nor any who sought after the Lord. For who could have persuaded the many to choose the better, when those who presided were so disposed — both emperors and high priests decreeing impiety in place of other edicts and laws, and compelling all to submit, and cutting the seamless garment of the Church into many parts, and giving occasion for rejoicing to those who defame and slander us?

13. But not long after, Sergius, the sower of heresy, the manyheaded hydra, departs this life, storing up for himself entirely the dregs of judgment there; and Heraclius installs Pyrrhus on his see, a man of the same faction and opinion, and holding the same views as his predecessor. And when Heraclius himself, shortly afterward, ended his life, Constantine his son was established upon the scepters — whom Pyrrhus, out of wickedness of character, together with that vile woman Martina, most opportune for doing evil, removed by poison, and, contrary to expectation, set up in his place her son, so named Heraclonas, for the throne — a fine deed indeed for the high priest, and worthy of his gentleness! But the Senate, abhorring Heraclonas, quickly removed him from power, at the same time also driving out the impious Pyrrhus, together with the like-minded Martina, from the imperial city; and for the time being the noble fellow paid this penalty, being cast out from both throne and city, in exchange for the unjust murder he had contrived. Constans then became emperor, the son of the murdered Constantine; who also appointed Paul as bishop of Byzantium, who likewise cherished that irrational and Monothelite doctrine. But we must return again to the affairs of the divine Maximus, which discourse set before us as its subject, even though the narrative has turned aside to other matters, which it was also necessary to mention at the outset, as promised.

14. When, then, this holy man chose to journey to Rome on account of the heresy that had spread over Constantinople, as I have shown above, he first meets with the bishops in Africa along the way; and having set before them his own arguments, and let loose upon them a tongue that flowed like a sea with divine things, he made them firmer in the faith, and taught and instructed them thoroughly how they might elude the grasp of their opponents, and how to escape their sophistic arguments. For the wise man knew that we need much experience and skill in disputation, if we are to strike down our adversaries, and cast down every high thing that exalts itself against true knowledge. For this reason he spurred them on in every way; he trained them together; he anointed them with words for courage; he filled them with a nobler resolve. For even if they surpassed him in rank, yet in wisdom and understanding they were inferior and lacking — not to speak of his other virtues, and the man’s renown in all things. Whence they yielded to his words, and were persuaded without contradiction by his other exhortations and counsels, which had such great benefit. For they saw in the man a life exalted and superhuman, and a discourse abundant and copious, flowing not in mere drops but in rivers; and understanding, and the rest of his soul’s condition, comparable to no one at all.

On account of all this, not only among priests and bishops, but also as many as were set over the people and the multitude, all were wholly and entirely attached to him, and hung upon him as upon a magnet — experiencing toward the blessed man the same thing, as they say, that iron filings experience toward that stone, or that those enchanted by the songs of the fabled Sirens experience toward their melodies. And when they learned that at that time an assembly of bishops had gathered at Rome, so that they too, in common with them, might subject the outlandish doctrine to curses and anathema, they too, at the urging and suggestion of the divine Maximus, were led to do this same thing — not Africa alone, and the region about it, but also whoever in the other islands there were drawn to the work, and zealously did what was good — since all these had him as their teacher and guide, and as a fellowworker in what was done.

15. Not long a time passed from then, and John, president of Rome, departs to the Lord; and Theodore ascends to his throne, a successor no less to his orthodoxy than to his presidency. Meanwhile Pyrrhus too, having been driven from the imperial city, reaches Africa, and meets with the divine Maximus, putting forward his own arguments to him, and receiving those of the other; and as both proceeded to questions and rebuttals, how could I, on the present occasion, worthily set forth either the saint’s solution, joined with persuasiveness and truth, in each problem, or Pyrrhus’s defeat and assent to each point spoken? For the one put forward, as something unassailable and hard to refute, that will was one in the one Christ, and said that the true understanding of the matter could not be otherwise; while the other brought in that He was indeed one according to hypostasis — but nevertheless divided the duality of the natures, with which the wills too were correspondingly divided, and showed this most forcefully and irrefutably. And the one again, in turn, linked those who will together with the wills, joining absurdity to absurdity; but the holy man turned this aside as utterly unreasonable, and refuted it from its logical consequence. ’For if it be granted,’ he says (for I will use the very words of that blessed tongue), ’that those who will are introduced together with the wills, then, by the reasonable converse, wills too will altogether be introduced together with those who will; and it will be found, according to you, that of the supra-essential and all-good and most sovereign Godhead, because of its one will, there is also one hypostasis, according to Sabellius; but because of the three persons, there are also three wills; and for this reason, three natures, according to Arius — since, according to the definitions and canons of the Fathers, a difference of wills introduces also a difference of natures.’

16. And why should I recount each of the things then spoken? Which, even were I to set them forth as an entire treatise, I could scarcely go through to the end in their entirety — so long, and varied, and elaborate is their exposition. It is possible, then, for those who go through that very treatise composed by the saint, to learn from it more precisely the saint’s questioning and answering in every point, joined with understanding and most timely reasonings, and Pyrrhus’s incoherence and self-contradiction in his propositions, or rather, one should say, his lack of logic and senselessness — who, having grown weary of the whole matter, ’put an ox on his tongue,’ as they say, and condemned the weakness of his own argument; whom, though Maximus had shaped into many and various forms, and turned him about on every side, he was nevertheless unable to find anything in agreement with his own will. Indeed, he asks forgiveness for what he had done, and immediately, in writing, renounces on oath his own Monothelite doctrine, giving also to the bishop of Rome formal statements — and, one might say, was received by him most gladly. But the foolish and thoroughly senseless man, as though nothing new had happened to him, ran back, like a dog, to his own vomit, at Ravenna. And this coming to the ears of the divine Maximus, and of the aforesaid bishop, they, in common assembly, pronounce the sentence against him, cutting him off entirely, like a rotten and wholly incurable limb, and casting the wretched man out.

But he, even having suffered this, did not thus cease from his shamelessness, nor from the greater arching of his brows; but, with even more headstrong impulse, again leaps upon the see at Constantinople, and receives the high priesthood a second time, as the prize of his impiety.

17. When the emperor, too, was not ignorant of who was the cause of all this (for how could he not be, when the man’s word shone so brightly for all, and blazed forth openly?), he ordered the holy man to be brought with haste to the palace — thinking that if he could master this man, he would master all the rest as well. Together with him he also brought this man’s disciple Anastasius, together with the other Anastasius of the same name and disposition, who was also called the legate of the Church of Rome; and moreover he also quickly brought the most divine Martin, together with several bishops of the West, to Byzantium — being embittered against these, as was to be expected, on account of their opposition of mind. But the things concerning the hierarch Martin, and whatever outrages the impious man committed against him, washing him in countless insults and abuses — oh, unholy hands! — punishing the innocent man, and finally condemning him to the most distant exile (Cherson being the place of his exile) — doing the same, that is, also to his bishops — these things I have no leisure for the present to relate in detail, being pressed on toward the affairs of the divine Maximus; many, perhaps, will tell of these things already, and others, I think, have already told them, honoring the man, and extolling his conduct; but let our discourse proceed, as it does, to its own purpose.

18. When, then, this holy man was at last seized in the hands of murderers, and all eyes were fixed upon him, let us see with what sort of greetings they first receive him, and by what sort of judgment these fine lawgivers conduct his affair. For as soon as he had come to shore at Byzantium, already having been brought by ship, those sent by the emperor came to him — men who, from their very look alone, showed much bitterness in their soul; who, shamelessly seizing the holy man, unshod and without a cloak, dragged him forcibly along the way and led him off, his disciple following, groaning at what was being done — whom, having led away, they shut up in some dark little room, not even granting him the company of his disciple. And after some days had passed, they bring the righteous man into the palace, the whole Senate sitting in session, and looking upon him with a murderous and mad expression; and for the time being they entrust the case against him to the Sacellarius, first in dignity — a man skilled at speaking, skilled at fabricating speeches, and, above all others, most skilled at wickedness through his manipulation of the truth. What evil did he leave undone? What villainy did he not work? Not respecting his venerable old age (for he was then about eighty years, or nearly so), not the grace that bloomed upon his face, not the propriety of his character, and the rest of his becoming and most dignified bearing — and though this most unjust man had all this before him, he found nothing just or reasonable to accuse him of in his conduct, displaying only, so to speak, his own perversity, and the shamelessness and utter baseness of his character; who, even though he was seen shamelessly attempting such great things, nevertheless appeared to be stirring up everything in vain — convicted only of ill-will, and most conspicuous for wickedness.

But the particulars of what was then said and done, and what sort of calumnies those who thought to be covered by falsehood attached to the guiltless man, the saint’s own good disciple relates in detail, setting them forth in his own memoir; from which anyone who wishes may go through everything word for word, and learn it more precisely. Yet it is not beside the point for us also to say a little from those things, and to insert it into the present discourse, that we may not be altogether without mention of such things — intending, however, not to narrate them in full, but to run through what was done, as one might say, in summary.

19. When, then, that ill-named Sacellarius set the saint before him, he began at once to shake him with harsher words and threats, calling him unjust and a traitor, and an enemy of the emperors, and the most shameful of all things. And when the saint inquired for what reason he was recounting these things against him, and what betrayal he had committed, then that man fabricated slanders, which it is likely only he could fabricate, bringing forward witnesses even for what was admittedly a lie. And indeed he babbled nonsense against the saint, saying that he had handed over great cities — Alexandria, I mean, and Egypt, and Pentapolis — cutting them off, he said, from our borders, and attaching them already to the Saracens; whom he called this man’s greatest friend, and most intimate acquaintance.

20. But when the saint refuted this contrivance of his with irrefutable reasoning, showing it to be plain calumny and nothing else (for what had he to do with the capture of cities, whose welfare he rather desired?), the shameless man turned to another device, fabricating certain dreams and shadows and phantoms — in which he inserted echoes of voices, greater and lesser, and titles of emperors, with the clearer echo of the voice being sent forth rather to the West than to the East — here too producing and putting forward accusers and slanderers. At this the saint groaned all the more, and said: “I thank my God, that I have been handed over into your hands, and am struck with such charges; that through these involuntary things, the things voluntarily attached to me might be wiped away, and I might cleanse myself of the stains of this life. Yet, that I may make a brief defense also against these charges: I am neither an interpreter of dreams, nor skilled in dreams; for I have no leisure to fill my mind with fancies of such things. But since you have chosen to accuse me in such a way as even to produce witnesses — and these not men who knew, but men who heard from those who knew, since, you say, they have departed this life — why did you not, from the beginning, while the first witnesses were still alive, demand an account concerning the dreams?

For thus you yourselves would have been freed from the matter, and I would have paid the penalty on facts that were acknowledged. But, as it seems, neither is the truth thus, nor have my accusers set before their eyes Him who searches the heart. For may I never behold the appearing of my Master and Lord, nor be reckoned a Christian, for I have nothing else to swear by myself, if I either saw or formed in my mind the fabricated dream, or related it to others, as though delighting in the matter as some windfall.”

21. Then they bring against him a third accusation, since they saw the second refuted — which I did not even think it fitting to insert into the discourse, since besides being implausible, it is also childish and ridiculous. But since these fine judges did not abstain even from a fourth set of words and falsehoods, they bring in a certain Gregory, who said that in Rome, the saint’s disciple had said that it was neither holy nor reasonable for the emperor to be called a priest — as having learned this from his teacher. But the holy man was not at a loss for a defense against this either, confronting Gregory himself face to face, and showing that what had then been discussed was one thing, and what was now being alleged was another. “And that,” he says, “when he arrived in Rome, the discussion was about union, and about our accepting the Typos, by which the notorious doctrine was formulated and set down in writing. To these, naturally, both our words and our reply were directed, discussing what would be advantageous to ourselves, and what we judged profitable. For this reason, then, I know neither the things now brought forward as my own, nor as my accused disciple’s; to whom I never communicated any such thing, with God as my witness. Only this do I recall having said — not to the disciple, but indeed to Gregory himself; which not even he himself would altogether deny, unless he would deny his very self — that to define and inquire concerning doctrines belongs rather to priests than to emperors.

Since it is granted to these to anoint, and to lay on hands, and to offer the bread, and to stand at the altar, and to perform whatever else is more divine and more mystical. These things I said then, and I say now. On these grounds, let him do as he wishes — either acquit, or condemn; for a man could not be wronged by men, even should he suffer the most terrible of all things.”

22. Then, having nothing further to do, those who placed their hope in falsehood lead the righteous man out of the tribunal, and bring in his disciple Anastasius; whom they terrified with words and threats, compelling him to denounce his teacher, and forcing him to say that he had distressed Pyrrhus when he had conversed with him — I do not know for what purpose these liars contrived such a thing. But when Anastasius had said the opposite of what they expected — that he had by no means distressed him, but rather had honored him with every honor, and, as one seemingly well-disposed, had received him most warmly — they battered him with fists and blows on the head and cheeks, and, having thus extracted this confession of the truth, ordered him again shut up in prison.

23. And again they bring the holy man before them, as though not satisfied with what had gone before, and bring another test to bear on the untested one. This was, that he was in agreement with the doctrines of Origen, and shared his views in everything. But when he had quickly dissolved this rotten and easily refuted accusation, saying openly that whoever holds Origen’s views is separated from God and from the company of Christians, they inquired a second time about Pyrrhus and what had then been said, putting on a mask of kindness, whether they knew this to be false or took it to heart. Then next, in what manner he had broken off communion with the patriarch. Concerning these matters they also put forward other inquiries and questions in the meantime, insisting that the Typos put forward by them ought to be honored, so greatly was it abhorred and dishonored by him; and, simply, whatever seemed to them inescapable and hard to answer, they inserted, neither abstaining from threats against him, nor from insults; until at last, seeing themselves defeated on every point, and caught, as the saying goes, in their own snares, they dissolved the council, and hastened themselves to the emperor, reporting the man’s firmness, and his invincibility in argument, and that no one could persuade Maximus to agree with their views, even should one attempt to punish him.

24. A short time after this, others come to him, already in custody, thinking perhaps that by frequent assaults, and by frightening him with milder words, they might succeed with him. Those who came said they had been sent by the patriarch, and put these things to the saint, as they had them: “Of what Church are you” — for I will use their very words — “O you there? Of Byzantium, Rome, Antioch, Alexandria, Jerusalem? Behold, all of them, together with the provinces under them, have been united. If, then, you too are of the Catholic Church, be united, lest, innovating a strange path for your life, you suffer what you do not expect.” To whom the blessed man answers, how aptly and wisely one might say: “The Lord, in calling the orthodox and saving confession of the faith the Catholic Church, and blessing Peter for having confessed it well, declared that upon this He would build such a Church, the God of all. Yet I wish to learn the confession upon which the union of all the Churches has been made; and if this has been rightly done, I too am not estranged from it.”

25. To him the envoys said: “Even though we have no instruction concerning this, we will nevertheless say it, because you are altogether without excuse. We say two activities, on account of the difference, and one, on account of the union.” And he said: “Do you say the two have become one, on account of the union, or another one besides these?” “No,” they said, “but the two, one, on account of the union.” “We are rid of the matter,” he said, “having fashioned for ourselves a faith without substance, and a nonexistent God. For if we confuse the two into one on account of the union, and again divide the one into two on account of the difference, there will be neither a unity nor a duality of activities — each continually destroying the other, and rendering that to which they are attached without activity, and altogether without existence. For that which has not even one unremovable activity by nature, and one that is not altered or changed by any manner of turning, is deprived of all substance, according to the Fathers — not having an activity that essentially characterizes it. This, then, I cannot say, nor was I taught by the holy Fathers to confess it. Seeing, then, that you are men in authority, do as you think fit.”

26. But they, having nothing to say against this, brought upon him what those in power had decided — declaring that, since he would not be persuaded, he should be subjected to anathema, and that the death sentence decreed against him should also be carried out. But he, meekly and humbly, said: “What has been decreed for me by God, let it now receive its fulfillment, bringing Him glory known before every age.” But for the time being the sentence pronounced was deferred; and the emperor, together with the patriarch, holding council — no less than Pilate and the Jews did against my Jesus — condemn the righteous man to exile; being led off in haste to a certain small town called Bizya; and at the same time carrying off his disciple Anastasius alone to some place utterly wretched, and the farthest reach of the Roman empire (Perberis, as the place is called in a barbarous tongue) — doing the same, that is, also to his namesake, I mean the legate of Rome.

27. And after many days had passed, they send to the saint in exile that Theodosius, bishop of Caesarea, and Paul and another Theodosius, both invested with the rank of consul; who themselves put forward to the blessed man many and various arguments — now flattering, now threatening, now also questioning him for the sake of inquiry. Of these the detailed account is shown by the memoir set forth by the good Anastasius, as I have said above. It is perhaps not out of place for us also to say a little from these, following the summary manner of narration here too. For thus we might better learn the man’s unconquerable steadfastness in all things — that though there were many who shook him, and attempted in many ways to unsettle him, he himself nevertheless remained no less unbending, wholly firm, and unchanging in resolve.

28. But let us see what these men brought to the saint. They first inquired how he fared — putting this question to him in a friendly, or rather flattering, manner. And when he said: “As has been foreknown and foreordained by the providence of God concerning the end of my life, so indeed do I fare,” they in turn asked him: “What does foreknowledge signify, and what does foreordination, and what is the difference between the two?” And he said that the one — foreknowledge, I mean — belongs to things within our own power: thoughts, and words, and deeds, from which the virtues and vices come upon us; while the other — foreordination — belongs to things not in our power, but to what befalls us involuntarily from without: various afflictions, that is, and other punitive manners; and, simply, as this most God-inspired man went through each of these, showing which afflictions come for the remission of sins, and which for testing, or for a dispensation justly and, as one could not say otherwise, profitably brought upon us — they, leaving these matters aside for the time being, brought forward instead the arguments for which they had come, calling him to communion, and to agreement with what they had done. And when he brought up against them the innovation done to the Church, and the confusion of the faith, then Theodosius of Caesarea too set himself to debate with him, and, as though nothing contrary to these views was being professed, nor anything foreign and alien to right reason, urged this very insistently — upholding and championing the activity and that Monothelite will.

29. But the holy man, having exposed the absurdity in such statements — saying that if one should posit one activity where two are said, in respect of Godhead and manhood, then the very account of theology, and of the economy, will altogether be confused; and the absurdity will result that there will be a tetrad, or a triad, since the flesh would become of the same nature as the Word — since, according to the Fathers, ’of those whose essence is one, the activity too will be one.’ But indeed also the distinguishing and constitutive marks both of Godhead and of manhood will be taken away, or each will pass into complete non-existence, since, according to your own arguments and this new doctrinemaking, it will not be possible to conceive or speak of either one activity or two — and, adding many other things to his argument, when Theodosius, as though at a loss, said: “But what has come about for the sake of economy ought not to be taken as a governing doctrine, just as now the Typos put forward by us has come about for the sake of economy, and not as doctrine” — the holy man replying that it is neither reasonable nor just to go along with such innovations, and that this is the mark of false teachers and deceivers, whom one ought not to obey, but to avoid, as far as possible, and to withdraw from, lest we too seem to derive some evil from association with them — they, as though struck dumb at what was said, were silent for a good while, hanging their heads.

30. But Theodosius, coming to himself again, and having at leisure gathered other questions, which he thought would remain for him like unassailable citadels, put forward these statements, and the acceptance of certain simple formulas, asserting that Maximus accepted these; and besides, having raised other inquiries concerning hypostatic activity, and a certain natural and relational will — matters which require a longer discourse, and are not for the present narration; since, then, he put forward these things, and the holy man very easily overturned every one of his arguments and reasonings, at last, growing weary, and having no other way to answer what was before him, he tries to win the saint over by another means — conversing with him now in a more friendly manner, and saying that he himself too would wish that the obstacles and stumbling-blocks between them be removed, and the former peace restored to the Church. “Which,” he said, “could not come about otherwise, unless we should go to those in Rome, and call them to terms and reconciliation — breathing, that is, and thinking as one with them.” At this the saint, becoming even more cheerful, how gladly, one might say, he was disposed toward what was said — with what fair words he did not answer the one who had spoken! He who, though in such poor bodily condition, worn out by asceticism together with old age, was nevertheless eager to journey again to Rome, and to accomplish with them what was profitable.

“Only let this become a deed,” he said, “and not merely a word spoken in vain.”

31. And when Theodosius had confirmed what was said also by oath, and had touched the pure Gospels with his hands — even though the senseless man kept none of these, being dragged along by the wills of those in power — the saint was all the more cheerful, giving himself wholly to the journey, and considering what would be beneficial both to them and to those in Rome. Then, as Theodosius was about to depart from there, in order to share these matters with those in the imperial city, he greeted the saint again with an embrace, and gave him a tunic and a gray cloak, and thus entered Byzantium, together with the two consuls who had accompanied him.

32. Eight days passed from then, and Paul, he too honored with the rank of consul, comes out to the saint — having been instructed by the emperor to take up the holy man from Bizya, with reverence and respect, as a friend and familiar acquaintance of his own ancestors, and to convey him to one of the monasteries at Rhegium, called that of Saint Theodore. And on the following day, Epiphanius and Troilus come to him, both invested with the dignity of patrician, together with Theodosius of Caesarea; whose oath the saint expected to be kept, not having detected his treachery, being himself utterly guileless in mind. These men, having conversed at length with the holy man, relayed the emperor’s promises, that he would make him as a father to himself, and show him above all others, only if he would consent to be united and to come to agreement with him, and choose together with them what had been decreed; and that, on account of his standing apart and dissenting, nearly all the East and West were dissenting and standing apart along with him; and other things besides, which seemed to be in their favor, they said and put forward, bringing up that formless Typos, up and down, in everything they said. But when they realized that the saint was not turned even slightly by their arguments, he cried out this above all, loudly: “All the power of the heavens will not persuade me to do what you propose.

For what defense,” he said, “shall I make — I do not say to God, but to my own conscience — if, for the sake of the glory of men, which has no real existence, I should now abjure the faith that saves me?”

33. When, then, they realized he was thus disposed, and was especially reproaching Theodosius for having so vainly, and to his own harm, put forward his words and oaths, then, rising up in haste, they did what was their own — and did what such men would do. For some struck him with their fists — oh, unholy hands! — even urging on the attendants who accompanied them to such boldness; others buffeted him; others struck him with slaps and shoves; others even spat in his face, just as the soldiers and the lawless mob did to my Jesus — whom these truly abominable men did not cease pelting with their spittle until they had filled his whole face with saliva, and drenched his very garments — so that, from the great quantity of spittle poured upon him, there arose a stench not even bearable — which none but those foul and accursed men themselves were fit to smell. And these most shameless men would not have ceased so acting, had not Theodosius of Caesarea restrained their impulses, and turned them to other matters. And these men, as though they had done nothing — how shall I say it? more impudent than dogs — again, shortly after, brought forward to the saint questions and inquiries, and other such nonsense; and when they saw that their efforts came to nothing and were fruitless, laboring and raving in vain, they poured upon him insults not even fit to be spoken, and, taking away whatever necessities he had, these perverse men departed from there.

34. After some passage of time, they bring him into Constantinople, bringing in with him also his disciple Anastasius; and besides, also the other Anastasius, whom we said was the legate. And these accursed and execrable men, having pronounced curses against them, and having subjected them to anathema — not them alone, but all the orthodox, both the living and the departed — then hand them over to those appointed to inflict punishment, that they might carry out the sentence pronounced against them: not depriving them entirely of life, as though there were still some humanity even in these inhuman men, but devising torments more bitter than death itself. For the eparch of the city, taking them and bringing them into the praetorium, first stretched the divine Maximus by his four limbs, and ordered him to be beaten with hardened sinews — the vile man showing no pity for his old age, none for his shrunken and wasted limbs, none for that body worn down by fasting and toils; but he flogged him so cruelly that the ground beneath was reddened with the great quantity of flowing blood, and all his flesh was consumed, and not the smallest part of his limbs left whole.

35. Then the beastly man turns next to his disciple, and afterward to the other of the same name, inflicting many blows upon them too, and covering them with bruises; setting heralds over them, who cried out to those being scourged: “Thus ought those who disobey the imperial decrees, and remain unyielding, to suffer.” And they, barely breathing, were carried and cast into the prison.

36. And next they set before them the holy man together with his disciple, both entirely marked with bruises, entirely swollen, entirely inflamed with wounds; and though he was in such pain, they did not refrain from doing yet worse things to him, casting off nature altogether. For that Goddiscoursing tongue, which had poured forth words like rivers, they unlawfully cut out from within, from the throat and the adjoining epiglottis, so that, the organ of speech being removed, discourse and teaching might be removed together with it, and he might remain silent and speechless. But you were not going to keep silent, O good Maximus, even with your tongue cut out; nor cease to utter those most sweet words; but He who fashions the tongues of infants, and makes the mute and the deaf to speak, He also made you, contrary to expectation, both to speak and to talk, and to bring forth words even more articulate than before.

37. And when they did the same to his disciple Anastasius, cutting out his tongue also from within, the same grace strengthened him too, giving him speech without the organ of voice, abundant and remarkable beyond measure. At this these vile men, struck with even greater envy, inflicted upon these noble men another, more novel torment; thinking, as it were, that they would be doing wrong if they did not try every kind of terrible thing against them — whom it would have been far better to put out of the way by death, as indeed seemed good to them, than to deliver over to such punishments. For, having bound the blessed man with thin cords, and pressed him on every side with racks, they cut off his right hand with a chisel and hammer, and throw it on the ground; then, in the same condition, they turn to his fellowcontestant Anastasius, exacting the same punishment upon him too, that he might in every way have a share also in the same glory. And having cast them, tongueless and handless, out of the praetorium, they dragged them and led them about through the marketplace, making a spectacle of their severed limbs, uttering inarticulate cries, and pelting them with mockeries and jeers. After this shameful procession, they deliver them to the longest exile, together also with the legate Anastasius — this alone doing well by the saints, these accursed men, in separating them from themselves.

38. But divine justice was not neglectful, though it is longsuffering in most things; but shortly afterward exacted punishment from the lawless emperor — banishing him far off, and giving him to meet his most pitiable death at Syracuse in Sicily. For, being hated by the Byzantines, and having become most odious to them for what he had done, and fearing lest he suffer some harm at their hands, he went there with his wife and children; where, having entered a bathhouse to wash, one of the attendants dealt him a mortal blow on the head, shattering his whole skull, and took away the wretched man’s life. And when his son, who was called Constantine, was established upon the scepters together with his brothers Heraclius and Tiberius, he knew that he must not walk the same path as his father, lest he too meet the same fate; whence, gathering the Fathers from everywhere, and convening a great council — which is also called the Sixth Ecumenical — he accomplished among other things many worthy of remembrance, and proclaimed more clearly the double wills and activities of Christ, according to the two natures — subjecting to curse and anathema those who introduced and upheld that Monothelite doctrine. This the president of Rome, Agatho, who was established on the throne after Martin, had already done earlier in Rome, moved by the divine Spirit — he too pronouncing accursed and cast out of the Church those who had committed such lawless deeds.

But these things belong to a later time.

39. But when, as the narrative said, they had carried off the divine Maximus into exile, many things befell him to suffer along the way, and he endured much pain, being unable to sit either upon a beast of burden, or in a litter, so utterly was he worn out by his sufferings, and exhausted by countless pains. Indeed, having placed him in a kind of wicker basket woven of rods, and carrying him with difficulty and toil, they led him along that long road; and having confined him, imprisoned, in one of the fortresses in Alania, called Schemaris, they left him utterly uncared for. And when they had driven his good disciple, together with his namesake, along the same road, they separate both of them from their teacher, and separate them also from one another — sending each, one by one, through many places, and leading them far off into the land of the Abasgians; from which one of them, having succumbed to great hardship, breathed out his very last breath, which alone remained to him; and it is not even known precisely on what day he departed from this world, as his namesake, I mean the legate Anastasius, related.

40. But upon the divine Maximus, now confined in the fortress in Alania, a divine vision from above came, revealing to him the day of his death, and calling him to the tabernacles from there. And when that day arrived — it was the thirteenth of the month of August — he departs from this world, and hastens up to the heavens, truly worthy of the heavens and of dwelling there. And in the place where his sacred body was laid, three shining lights, each night thereafter, shone upon the tomb — sending forth a wondrous radiance, and, as was fitting, producing yet more wondrous astonishment in those who saw it, and showing forth the most bountiful grace of the great-gift-giving God toward His servant.

41. But to you, O most holy Father, great indeed is the glory and splendor even of these present things, your Master having honored you thus even here; yet far greater, and most exalted, is your portion and heavenly inheritance there — standing beside the great Light, and receiving in yourself the whole radiance of the blessed and light-giving Trinity; and, most paradoxical of all, seeing God, having yourself become God by union, and being wholly deified by participation, and undergoing an ineffable deification. Having attained, then, such glory, grant also much help from yourself to us, who are still swimming amid present things, and sailing through this long and most perilous life; that, with you as our pilot and guide, sailing lightly over the unstable sea, we may come to anchor at the calm and eternal harbors, where is the blessed way of life, and the most peaceful rest.

42. This discourse, offered by us to you, O best and most loving of fathers, falls altogether short, as I myself know, of the facts, but I think falls short in no way of my longing. The cause and instigator of this discourse is altogether your own devoted hierarch, who has been enriched with both the name and the character of the shepherd of Myra — he who ever marvelously loves your words, and longs for you exceedingly, and makes your sweetest name the delight of his tongue. May you repay him with your company and companionship, seeing, as you do, how much anguish he too has undergone for the sake of the good, and how he lays down his very soul, if only he might accomplish something better in these matters — in Christ our Lord Himself, to whom be glory and dominion, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.