He who had restored sight to the blind—if he had to, could he not have made men blind? He who gave wholeness to the feeble—did he find it difficult or laborious to render men feeble? He who bade the lame to walk—did he not know how to bind up the movement of the limbs by a stiffening of the sinews? He who drew the dead from their tombs—was death hard for him to pronounce upon whomever he willed? But because reason demanded that those things be done which had been appointed, and here in this very world and in no other manner than as it was carried out, that inestimable and incredible gentleness—counting the injuries of men against himself as childish follies—suffered hands to be laid upon it by monstrous and most hardened robbers, and thought it not worth reckoning what
their audacity had designed, provided only that he might show his own people what they ought to expect from him. For when, as teacher and author, he instilled many things concerning the perils of souls, many things concerning their salvation, and directed his laws and ordinances toward the ends of fitting duties—did he not crush the arrogance of pride, extinguish the flames of lusts, restrain the gaping of greed, wrest weapons from men's hands, and cut away every seedbed of all vice? In short, did not he himself—gentle, mild, easy of access, familiar in address, grieving over human miseries—by that unique kindness pity all whatsoever who were afflicted with crosses and bodily ills and diseases, and give them back and restore them to health?
What then drives you, what urges you to revile and abuse him, to enter into inexpiable feuds with him whom no one of all men can refute or convict of being guilty of any crime? Your tyrants and kings, who—setting aside the fear of the gods—despoil and plunder the offerings of the temples, who by proscriptions, exiles, and slaughters strip cities of their nobility, who by wanton license overthrow and snatch away the chastity of matrons and maidens—these you call native heroes and divine ones; and those who ought rather to be censured by you with sharper punishments, you honor with couches, altars, temples, and with other worship of games and the celebration of birthdays. And likewise all those who, by writing multiform volumes, tear apart with biting slanders
the public morals, who cut, burn, and mangle your luxuries and lives, who hold up to the posterity of their own age the marks of infamy by the perpetuity of their writings; who persuade that marriages ought to be held in common, who lie down with beautiful boys, wanton and naked, who proclaim that you are cattle, fugitives, exiles, slaves of the vilest brand, frenzied and mad—these men, admiring and applauding, you exalt to the stars of heaven, you lay up in the secret places of your libraries, you present with chariots and statues, and, as far as lies in you, you bestow upon them, as with a kind of eternity, the testimony of immortal inscriptions;
yet Christ alone you can assail and tear to pieces—if you could, indeed a god; you would, nay rather, if it were only permitted, after the manner of savage beasts, chew him with bloody jaws and gulp him down together with his crushed bones. For what merit, tell me, I pray, for the guilt of what sin? What was committed by him that could bend aside the course of the right and rouse you against him with furious goads into fierce hatreds? Was it because he declared himself sent by the sole King as the guardian of your souls, because he brought you immortality—which you trust that you possess, persuaded by the human assertions of a few?
But even if it were certain among you that he spoke falsehoods and promised the most empty hopes, not even so do I see there was cause why you ought to hate him, why to condemn him with hostile punishment; nay rather, if your minds had been merciful and mild, for that very reason alone you ought to have embraced him—because he pledged to you things desirable and prosperous, because he was the messenger of good things, because he proclaimed things that would injure no one's mind, but would rather fill it with a more untroubled expectation. O ungrateful and impious age! O age depraved by an incredible obstinacy of heart, to your own private ruin!
If some physician had come to you from far-off regions never known to you, promising such a remedy as would ward off from your bodies absolutely every kind of disease and sickness: would you not all run to him in eager rivalry, would you not receive him within your walls as a friend, cherished with every blandishment and honor, would you not wish that kind of remedy to be most certain, most true—which pledged that you would be free from so countless afflictions of the body even to the last bounds of life? And though the matter were doubtful, you would nevertheless commit yourselves, nor would you hesitate to drain the unknown potion, with the hope of health set before you and inflamed with love of soundness.
Christ shone forth and appeared, the herald of the greatest of matters, bearing a favorable omen and a saving proclamation to those who believe. What then is this cruelty, this so great inhumanity—nay rather, to speak more truly, this fastidiousness, this disdain—to rend the announcer and bringer of so great a gift not only with the slanders of words, but even to pursue him with grievous war and with all the outpourings of missiles and disasters? The things he says do not please you, and are heard by you with offense: reckon them as ludicrous prophesyings. He speaks the most stupid things and promises foolish gifts: laugh, as wise men, at him, and leave him to wallow, playing the fool amid his own errors.
What is this ferocity—to repeat what has been said more than once—what lust so butcherly, to declare an inexpiable war against one who has deserved nothing from you, to wish to tear him limb from limb through his very bowels if it were granted—one who not only inflicted no evil upon any, but with equal kindness said even to his enemies what salvation was borne to them from God the prince, what needed to be done that they might flee destruction and attain the unknown immortality?
And when the novelty of these things and the unheard-of promise disturbed the minds of his hearers and made their readiness to believe waver, the Lord of all powers and the very destroyer of death permitted his own man to be slain, so that from the consequences they might know their hopes—which they had long since received concerning the salvation of souls—to be secure, and that they could in no other way escape the peril of death.