By Fr. George Dorbarakis
Saint Boniface lived during the reign of Diocletian. He was the slave of a senatorial woman named Aglaïs, daughter of the Roman proconsul Acacius, and he had an illicit relationship with his mistress. He was also a drunkard, yet at the same time merciful and hospitable, with a tender heart toward human misfortunes and toward those who implored him. His mistress likewise was merciful and a lover of the martyrs.
One day Aglaïs said to Boniface: “Go to the East, where the saints are being martyred, and bring back relics of martyrs, so that we may have them for help and the salvation of our souls.” Boniface replied with a laugh: “If I bring back my own relics, will you accept them?” She too laughed, and after calling him a drunkard, she admonished him, blessed him, and sent him off, giving him money.
Boniface then departed with twelve slaves and much gold for Cilicia, where the saints were being martyred. There he found holy men contending in the contests of faith, and he kissed their chains and their wounds. He himself was stirred, and he went before the governor, confessing that he too was a Christian. He was immediately arrested. They hung him head downward and cruelly scraped his flesh; then they drove sharp reeds under his fingernails, poured molten lead into his mouth, and placed him headfirst into a cauldron of boiling pitch. Through all this he remained unharmed, while fifty of the executioners died. Finally they cut off his head with a sword, but instead of blood, milk flowed forth — a miracle that caused fifty men to believe in Christ and to be baptized.
Meanwhile, the slaves who had come with him from Rome, not knowing what had happened — because they supposed that, according to his habit, he had delayed at taverns and drunken revels — when they learned from the soldiers the particular tortures he had endured until his end, found his relic. They then fell before the Saint and asked forgiveness for the evil thoughts and words they had about him. Afterward, having paid five hundred coins, they purchased his body and brought it to Rome.
His mistress Aglaïs, to whom everything had been revealed by an angel of the Lord, ran to meet him and receive him. She honored him splendidly and buried him with great ceremony five hundred stadia outside the city. Then she built a church in his name in the middle of the city, in her own house, and transferred him there, where to this day fountains of healings flow forth. From then on she lived piously and in a God-pleasing manner, and with this good way of life she surrendered her spirit in peace to God.
These things are wondrous indeed in the life of Saint Boniface. A drunkard, lustful, a fornicator and adulterer, he is suddenly transformed to faith in Christ. And not only this: his conversion is accompanied by a courageous confession of Christ, such that it leads him to endure countless tortures that it is impossible for a man to bear who until that moment had been wallowing in the mire of sensual pleasure. And even more: his martyrdom is shown to be immediately accepted by the Lord — both by the milk that flowed instead of blood at the cutting off of his head, and by his precious relic, which from that time poured forth “fountains of healings,” according to the Synaxarion.
Where is the usual path of Christ’s martyrs, who before reaching martyrdom had been catechized in the faith and strengthened by those regarded as their “trainers”? Where is the caution of those who did not permit martyrdom for Christ if the candidates had not been prepared for it through spiritual struggles, confession, and participation in the divine Eucharist — out of the justified fear that they might falter before the sufferings? In the martyrdom of Saint Boniface all these “canonical” prerequisites are overturned. We have a divine intervention from above, by Christ Himself, who brings about the transformation of his heart so that at once he reaches the charismatic height of martyrdom.
“Having been shown superior to carnal thoughts, through a divine transformation you bore at once every assault of hardships with joy, O Martyr Boniface,” marvels the Holy Hymnographer.
He is not the only one. Like Saint Boniface, we have many in our Church who, in an extraordinary and wholly “uncanonical” way, are led to martyrdom by other paths than the normal course. But who can determine the path when God Himself is at work — He who “searches hearts and reins,” and therefore alone knows what is taking place in the depths of each person’s heart?
Let us recall first of all the thief who was crucified with the Lord. What “canonical order” existed in him? It was enough for him to see the Lord, and his heart “melted,” was transformed. His repentance led him to ask forgiveness of the Lord, thus becoming the first “inhabitant” of Paradise: “Truly I say to you, today you will be with Me in Paradise.” What canonical order existed in the Apostle Paul, when, at the very moment he was persecuting Christians, he received the Lord’s call to become His apostle? What canonical order existed in Saint Porphyrios the Mime (15 September), who, while mocking the mysteries, confessed Christ and was beheaded? The soul of man is an abyss — and even more so the love of our God!
And yet! There is something in Boniface’s former sinful life that was clearly the provocation for the rich activity of God’s grace: the compassion of his character. Let us note the exact words of the Synaxarion: “He was also a drunkard, but merciful and hospitable, and moved by the misfortunes and supplications of men.” Here is the “secret.” Here is what “bent” the almighty Lord: his God-likeness because of his merciful heart. The conclusion is obvious: a merciful person, even if immersed in all the carnal passions, will not be lost. The grace of God will call him at the time He judges fit. God works within such a person, even if outwardly everything appears reversed and sinful.
We know this also from other similar cases in the lives of our saints — for example, Thais the harlot, likewise immersed in shameful passions, yet merciful and compassionate. For this reason she was pursued by God’s grace, and later repented, became holy, and worked miracles. Who, then, can pass judgment on his fellow human beings? Who can boast of his own moral life? And thus we understand that if a merciful heart — even clothed in carnality — brings such grace from God at a given moment, how much more grace will it bring when it is combined with a good and virtuous life!
We cannot fail, however, to note the obvious: Saint Boniface was indeed led to the height of martyrdom and holiness because of his good heart, but his love for God was ignited when he saw before him the martyrdoms of the other saints. There, in faith lived out in action even unto sacrifice, he saw the truth of God and of the Christian faith — and he envied the martyrs. This too is noted by the Hymnographer: “With eager thoughts you envied the contests of the noble athletes, and you contended steadfastly and slew the serpent by your life-bearing struggles, O sacred Boniface.”
The Hymnographer of the Saint cannot fail to recall that his feast is celebrated a few days before the Holy Nativity of Christ. He seeks and finds an occasion to connect the Saint’s feast with the supernatural event of the Lord’s Birth — and he finds it. From the West he set out for the East to find relics of martyrs, as though the East were a star guiding him to the newborn Christ. Just as the Magi from Persia were guided by the star to reach Christ, so was he.
He even finds a correspondence in the gifts. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh were offered by the Magi; faith, hope, and love are offered by Boniface — and more than that, his very self, the purest and most spotless gift:
“As the star of the East led the Magi from Persia, so a divine summons led you from the West, O God-wise one, to worship Christ who was pleased to be born in a cave, as King of all creation, and to offer Him gifts as frankincense and myrrh and gold — Faith, Love, and Hope. Therefore you offered to Him your whole self as a spotless gift.”
Indeed, there is no greater gift to Christ for the blessing of His coming into the world than the offering of our very selves — especially the laying down of our sins in repentance.
Source: Translated by John Sanidopoulos.