EUSEBIUS THE SYRIAN

On the last day of winter, the Church commemorates the memory of Saint Eusebius of Syria. The saint was one of the thirty great ascetics whose lives were described by Theodoret of Cyrus (393-457) in his “Religious History.” Their memory is celebrated by name by the Church during the period from January 26 to March 14, preparing the Church for Great Lent. Lent is a spiritual springtime. It is a remarkable coincidence that in churches that follow the Julian calendar, winter ends with Saint Eusebius.

1 We know nothing about Eusebius’ date of birth or death. All we know about the life of this Syrian monk is contained in four paragraphs that Theodoret devoted to him. The text is extremely concise, cautious in its statements, and careful in its words. Therefore, each characteristic, detail, and feature should be treated with great attention and perceived as a treasure left to the Church by those who have seen God.

2 In the first paragraph of his narrative, Theodoret recounts the beginning of Eusebius’ monastic journey. A remarkable observation: “Eusebius first entrusted himself to the care of others, going where they led him.” At first, he studied under more experienced ascetics. Having learned asceticism, the saint decided to live in seclusion. This classical model of monastic transition from community life to seclusion, hermitage and solitude acquired extraordinary features in the life of Eusebius. He settled on a mountain near … a very large village. He built himself a fence out of stones but did not secure it with any mortar. He began to live under the open sky. Living without shelter was one of the remarkable exploits of Syrian monasticism.

3 Eusebius spent his days and nights, and all seasons, under the open sky. He ate peas, figs, and drank water. As a result, he completely lost his teeth and his muscles. In order to somehow fasten the belt to his body, he simply sewed it to the tunic he wore. “For his muscles had completely disappeared and the belt slipped down freely” (18:1). Eusebius lived not far from a village. Modern scholars have not been able to identify the location of this place. It is symbolic that the saint hid from the world in the smallest details.

4 This incredible and, in fact, extremely realistic description of the mortification of the flesh of Syrian ascetics, remembers an episode from the life of John Chrysostom. Before becoming a presbyter in Antioch and then a bishop in the capital, he completely ruined his health as a result of ascetic feats in the Syrian desert. The imperial court of Constantinople never understood this, believing that John did share food with the powers that be because he despised them.

5 People began to come to Eusebius for spiritual advice. The second paragraph in the work of Theodoret describes this and speaks about his desperate attempts to avoid it. Eusebius responded only to some visitors. As soon as such a conversation ended, he immediately left, and so that he would not be disturbed, he smeared mud on his door. In fact, this ascetic practice manifested itself many centuries later in a Soviet children’s game, when the door handle was smeared with toothpaste. Often, our everyday life reflects ancient ascetic practices.

6 “I am going to build you a house with no windows no door,” sing Rammstein. Eusebius’ cell had a door but no roof. He lived under the open sky. Those who have been in the desert, or in the Middle East in general, know that at night or in winter it can be incredibly scary and cold there. Eusebius had very little contact with those who came to visit him, but even that depressed him. Then he leaned a huge stone against his door to show people that there was a dead man inside. When necessary, he sometimes spoke through a hole in the wall. He honored Theodoret with his conversation. “Finally, Eusebius began to refuse everyone his conversation: he honored only me with his sweet and God-loving voice; often, when I was about to leave, the elder would hold me back, continuing to talk about Heaven,” this is a very touching detail, filled with human warmth (18:2). At that time, Theodoret was not yet a bishop.

7 In the third paragraph of the story about Eusebius, a new paradox awaits the reader. To avoid the crowds who came to him this time not for advice but for blessings, Eusebius again left for a monastic community. Or, more accurately, he did not leave but ran away… jumping over the fence! “And forgetting his weakness, he jumped over the fence, which was not easy even for a strong man to climb” (18.3). Eusebius jumping over the fence to avoid people’s attention. Apparently, this was the last time Theodoret saw Eusebius alive. To leave, to flee, to depart, to escape—in this image of the perception of the temporal, typical of Syrian monasticism, something deeply early Christian is revealed. The ancient Church did not seek expansion, but humanity, rapidly and in great numbers, fled to it. “Eusebius went to the nearest ascetics and in their monastery—a small enclosure attached to the wall—continued to labor in his usual work” (18.3).

8 At the end of his remarkable account of Saint Eusebius, in the fourth and final paragraph, Theodoret says that he later learned from the abbot of the monastery where Eusebius was trying to hide from people. During Lent, the ascetic was content with fifteen figs. He was over 90 years old at the time. “In such labors, bathed in streams of sweat, he achieved his goal” (18.4). He lived as if dead so that when he died, he would live.

9 “From souvenirs to more souvenirs I live, with dreams you left behind,” , sang Greek singer Demis Roussos (1946-2015). “To live with dreams left to me” sounds like a prayer to God and reminds us of the Eucharistic essence of all memories. The essence of human memory is that we remember places we have been or lived in as if the people who are dear to us are still there, still waiting for us. It is incredibly difficult for us to admit to ourselves that none of this exists on earth anymore. Perhaps Theodoret felt the same way about Eusebius. “I long for him to intercede for me before God now, as he once interceded for me during his lifetime.” (18:4). The conversations with the saint bore great spiritual fruit. After his episcopal ordination, Theodoret gave away all his possessions, had no home of his own, and did not even prepare a grave for himself. Theodoret was the only child of his parents, and he was born sixteen years after their marriage, through the prayers of those ascetics, he believed, about whom he later wrote in gratitude. That is why his parents named him Theodoret, which literally means “divine gift.”