Marcellus of Apamea and the Temples He Destroyed

The first of the bishops to put the edict into effect and destroy the shrines in the city entrusted to him was Marcellus, who trusted in God rather than in the hands of a crowd. What happened is remarkable, and I will now tell it. When John, the bishop of Apamea whom I have already mentioned, died, the divine Marcellus, “fervent in spirit,” as the apostle’s rule says, was appointed in his place. [a]

Now the prefect of the East had arrived at Apamea with two tribunes and their troops, and fear of the troops kept the people quiet. An attempt was made to destroy the vast and magnificent shrine of Jupiter. But the building was so firm and solid that breaking up its tightly fitted stones seemed beyond human power. For they were huge, well and truly laid, and clamped fast with iron and lead besides. [b] When the divine Marcellus saw that the prefect was afraid to begin the attack, he sent him on to the other towns, while he himself prayed to God to help him in the work of destruction. The next morning a man came to the bishop without being asked. He was no builder or mason or craftsman of any kind, only a laborer who carried stones and timber on his back. “Give me two workmen’s pay,” he said, “and I promise you I will destroy the temple easily.” The holy bishop did as he asked, and this was the fellow’s plan. Around the four sides of the temple ran a colonnade joined to it, on which its upper story rested. The columns were massive, in keeping with the temple, each about twenty-four feet around. The stone was exceptionally hard and resisted the masons’ tools stubbornly. In each of these columns the man cut an opening all the way around, propping up the structure above with olive timber before he went on to the next. After he had hollowed out three of the columns, he set fire to the timbers. But a black demon appeared and would not let the wood be consumed by the fire, as it naturally would have been, and held back the force of the flame. The attempt was made several times, and when the plan proved useless, news of the failure was brought to the bishop, who was taking his midday sleep. Marcellus at once hurried to the church, had water poured into a pail, and set the water on the divine altar. Then, bowing his head to the ground, he begged the loving Lord not to give in at all to the demon’s usurped power, but to expose its weakness and show his own strength, so that unbelievers would not find in this an excuse for greater wrong from then on. With these and other words like them, he made the sign of the cross over the water. He ordered Equitius, one of his deacons, a man armed with faith and enthusiasm, to take the water, sprinkle it in faith, and then put the flame to the wood. His orders were carried out, and the demon, unable to bear the approach of the water, fled. Then the fire, acted on by its enemy the water as though it had been oil, caught the wood and consumed it in an instant. When their support was gone, the columns themselves fell down and pulled twelve others down with them. The side of the temple that was joined to the columns was dragged down by the violence of their fall and carried away with them. The crash was tremendous and was heard throughout the town, and everyone ran to see the sight. As soon as the crowd heard that the hostile demon had fled, they broke out into a hymn of praise to God. [d]

This holy bishop destroyed other shrines in the same way. I have many other most admirable deeds of this holy man to tell, for he wrote letters to the victorious martyrs and received replies from them, and he himself won the martyr’s crown. But for now I hold back from telling them, so as not to wear out, by going on too long, the patience of those into whose hands my history may fall. So I will now turn to another subject.