Salesian Literature

Chapter 8  :  A story worth remembering – to underline the essential influence and perfection of charity

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At Antioch, in the days of the emperors Valerianus and Gallus, there lived a priest called Sapricius and a layman called Nicephorus, who were regarded as brothers on account of their long close friendship.  Yet eventually, for some unknown reason, the friendship happened to break down and turn, as is usual, into a more intense hatred.  This lasted for some time, until Nicephorus admitted that he was to blame and made three separate attempts to heal the breach.  Through one or other of their mutual friends he send Sapricius messages containing all the satisfaction and submission anyone could have wished for.

 

Sapricius, however, unmoved by these appeals, always refused to make it up, showing himself to be as arrogant as Nicephorus was humble.  At last poor Nicephorus imagined that if Sapricius were to see him prostrate before him, begging pardon, he would be more deeply touched; so he went to look for him and do the gallant thing by abasing himself.  “Forgive me reverend Father,” he pleaded, “I entreat you for the love of our Lord.”  Such humility, however, was scorned and spurned like the previous efforts.

 

Meanwhile, what should break our but a bitter persecution of the Christians.  Sapricius was among those who were arrested, and he showed remarkable endurance in the profession of his faith under endless torture – unfailingly steadfast, even when he was rolled and tossed in an instrument resembling a wine-press.  This annoyed the governor of Antioch so intensely that he passed the death sentence.  As a result Sapricius was publicly brought out of prision to be led to the place where he was to receive the glorious crown of martyrdom.

 

No sooner was Nicephorus aware of this than he ran after Sapricius.  The moment he caught up with the condemned man, he knelt before him.

 

“For pity’s sake,” he pleaded at the top of his voice, “forgive me, martyr of Jesus Christ, forgive me for offending you!”

 

As Sapricius ignored him poor Nicephorus took a short cut and once more humbly knelt before the priest, entreating forgiveness in these words: “Martyr of Jesus Christ, forgive me for offending you; I’m only human, after all, and liable to make mistakes.  Why, even now, our Lord – whom you have not disowned – has a crown for you; you have proclaimed his name before so many witnesses.” (1 Tim. 6:12).

 

Sapricius, however, haughty as before, gave him not the slightest answer.  Only the executioners spoke, puzzled by Nicephorus perseverance.

 

“You’re the biggest fool we’ve ever seen,” they told him; “this fellow is as good as dead – what is the use of his forgiveness to you?”

“You don’t know what I am asking from this confessor of Jesus Christ,” replied Nicephorus, “but God knows.”

By this time they had reached the place of execution, so Nicephorus yet again knelt before Sapricius.

“I entreat you, martyr of Jesus Christ,” he pleaded, “to grant me your forgiveness; after all, it is written: Ask, and the gift will come.”  (Mt. 7:7)

 

Not even those words could touch the wretched Sapricius’ disloyal refractory heart.  However, his stubborn refusal to show mercy to his neighbour lost him, through God’s just judgement, the martyr’s palm … When the executioners ordered him to kneel for his head to be struck off, he began to lose his nerve and fell to bargaining with them, until he eventually made the deplorably shameful surrender: “For mercy’s sake, do not behead me!  I’ll obey the emperor’s command; I’ll sacrifice to the idols.”

 

Meanwhile, gentle, humble Nicephorus – an unclaimed martyr’s crown before his eyes by reason of the obdurate Sapricius’ apostasy – received a perfect but rare inspiration to dare to win it himself.

 

“Friends,” he called to officers and executioners, “I am a Christian and I believe in the Jesus Christ whom this man has denied.  Take me, then, in his place and strike off my head.”

 

Incredibly surprised, the officers informed the governor, who gave orders that Sapricius be set free and Nicephorus put to death.

 

Wretched Sapricius! – dare you claim to love God as he should be loved, while you fail to put his will before your passion of hatred, before the grudge you bear poor Nicephorus?  A readiness to die for God’s sake is the greatest act of love we owe to God; but it is not the only one, that is certain.  To set one’s heart upon this single action to the exclusion of all others is vanity, not charity.

 

There is nothing capricious about charity; it would be very odd if it set out to please the beloved in the most difficult things, while it countenanced offending him in easier ones.  How can a man be willing to die for God, if he has no intention of living in accord with God’s will?

 

You may perhaps find people willing to die for their friends, yet they would be unwilling to live as their servants or to gratify their last wishes.  A man may imperil his life, who would not endanger his wealth.  Although not a few people may risk their lives in defence of a friend, there is scarcely one in a century who would risk his freedom or lose an ounce of the emptiest of this world’s recognitions for anyone at all.

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