Book 1
Two Philosophers Won Over by Two Simple Old Men
While these debates were going on, some of the pagan philosophers wanted to take part in them. Some wanted to learn what doctrine was being taught. Others were angry with the Christians because the pagan religion had lately been suppressed, and they wanted to turn the inquiry about doctrine into a quarrel about words, so as to sow division among the Christians and make them appear to hold contradictory opinions. It is said that one of these philosophers, proud of his acknowledged superiority in eloquence, began to ridicule the priests. This roused the indignation of a simple old man, highly respected as a confessor, who, though he had no skill in logical subtleties and wordy argument, undertook to oppose him. The less serious among those who knew the confessor laughed at him for attempting such a thing. The more thoughtful were anxious that in opposing so eloquent a man he would only make himself ridiculous. Yet his influence was so great, and his reputation so high among them, that they could not forbid him to enter the debate. And so he spoke as follows: “In the name of Jesus Christ, philosopher, listen to me. There is one God, the maker of heaven and earth and of all things visible and invisible. He made all things by the power of the Word, and established them by the holiness of his Spirit. The Word, whom we call the Son of God, saw that humankind had sunk into error and was living like the beasts. He pitied them, and was pleased to be born of a woman, to live among people, and to die for them. And he will come again to judge each of us for the deeds of this present life. We believe these things to be true in all simplicity. So do not waste your effort trying to disprove what can be understood only by faith, or prying into how these things did or did not come about. Answer me: do you believe?” The philosopher, astonished at what had happened, replied: “I believe.” He thanked the old man for having overcome him in argument, and he began to teach the same doctrines to others. He urged those who still held his former views to adopt the views he had embraced, and he assured them on oath that he had been driven to embrace Christianity by an impulse he could not explain.
It is said that a similar miracle was worked by Alexander, who governed the church of Constantinople. When Constantine returned to Byzantium, some philosophers came to him to complain about the innovations in religion, and especially that he had brought a new form of worship into the state, contrary to the one followed by his forefathers and by all who had held power before, whether among the Greeks or the Romans. They also wanted to hold a debate on doctrine with Alexander the bishop. Although he had no skill in such contests of argument, he took up the challenge at the emperor’s command, trusting perhaps in his own way of life, for he was an excellent and good man. When the philosophers had assembled, since every one of them wanted to join the discussion, he asked that they choose one whom they thought worthy to speak for them, while the rest kept silent. When one of the philosophers began to open the debate, Alexander said to him: “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ not to speak.” At once the man fell silent. It is right, then, to consider which is the greater miracle: that a man, and a philosopher at that, should be silenced so easily by a word, or that a stone wall should be split by the power of a word, a miracle that I have heard some credit to Julian, called the Chaldean. I understand that these events happened as I have told them.