My Journey from Rome to Bethlehem

If anyone wants to hear how my journey from Rome was arranged, it was like this. In the month of August, when the etesian winds were blowing, I went aboard ship at the port of Rome at a time of my own choosing. With me were the reverend presbyter Vincentius, my young brother, and other monks who are now living at Jerusalem, and a very large company of the saints saw me off. I arrived at Rhegium. I stood for a while on the shore of Scylla and heard the old stories: the swift voyage of the wily Ulysses, the songs of the Sirens, and the insatiable whirlpool of Charybdis. The people of the place told me many tales, and advised me to sail not for the columns of Proteus but for the port where Jonah landed, because the first was the course for men in a hurry and in flight, while the second was best for a man who was a prisoner. But I preferred to take the course by Malea and the Cyclades to Cyprus. There I was received by the venerable bishop Epiphanius, whose testimony to you you boast of. I came to Antioch, where I enjoyed the communion of Paulinus, pontiff and confessor, and was sent on by him on my journey to Jerusalem, which I entered in the middle of winter, in bitter cold. There I saw many wonderful things, and confirmed with my own eyes what had come to my ears before by report. From there I made my way to Egypt. I saw the monasteries of Nitria, and noticed the snakes that lurked among the choirs of monks. Then, making haste, I at once returned to Bethlehem, which is now my home, and there poured my perfume on the manger and cradle of the Savior. I saw also the lake of ill omen. Nor did I give myself up to ease and idleness; I learned many things I did not know before. [a]

As for the judgment formed of me at Rome, or what was written afterward, you are quite welcome to speak out, especially since you have writings to rely on. For I am not to be tried by your words, which, as you please, you either veil in riddles or blurt out as open lies, but by the documents of the church. You can see how little I fear you. If you can produce a single record against me from the bishop of Rome or from any other church, I will confess myself guilty of all the wickedness I find laid to your charge. It would be easy for me to tell the circumstances of your departure: your age, the date you sailed, the places you lived, the company you kept. But far be it from me to do what I blame you for doing, and, in a dispute between churchmen, to make up a story worthy of the ravings of squabbling old women. Let this word be enough for your wisdom to remember: do not use a method against another that can at once be turned back on yourself.