Recognized as the archetypical saint of Syrian Christianity, St. Ephrem the Syrian (ܐܦܪܝܡ ܣܘܪܝܝܐ/ Ap̄rêm Sūryāyā; c. A.D. 306 – 373) was a Syriac Christian deacon, theologian, poet, hymnist, and posthumous doctor of the Church who is known for his prolific writings in the Syriac language during the fourth century. Contrary to other well-known theologians of his day, Ephrem composed much of his theological work in the form of poetry and hymns, not exclusively relying on philosophical statements to ponder and explain the mysteries of God.
Ephrem was born around the year A.D. 306 in Roman Nisibis (ܢܨܝܒܝܢ/Nṣībīn), Mesopotamia—which is now modern Nusaybin in southeast Turkey. While some accounts of his childhood claim his father was a pagan priest of the goddess Abnil, it seems that Ephrem’s own testimony indicates that his parents were members of the growing Christian community in Nisibis.[1] In his own Confession (Opp. Gr. i. 129), he says:
When I sinned, I was already a partaker of grace: I had been early taught about Christ by my parents: they who had begotten me after the flesh, had trained me in the fear of the Lord. I had seen my neighbours living piously: I had heard of many suffering for Christ. My own parents were confessors before the Judge: yea, I am the kindred of martyrs.[2]
Elsewhere, he says, “I was born in the way of truth: and though my boyhood understood not the greatness of the benefit, I knew it when trial came” (Opp. Syri. ii. 499).[3] While it appears that Ephrem was raised in the faith, it was St. Jacob of Nisibis (ܥܩܘܒ ܢܨܝܒܢܝܐ/Yaʿqôḇ Nṣîḇnāyâ; d. c. A.D. 337/338 or 350), the first bishop of the city, who educated him in the mysteries of Christianity and entranced him into the catechumenate. After his baptism at the age of twenty-eight, Ephrem mentions that he accompanied Jacob to the Council of Nicæa, describing it as “the illustrious synod, gathered by the memorable king, at which the Creed was committed to writing” (Opp. Syr. ii. 488 d) and condemning heretics for not submitting to it.[4]
At some point after their return, Ephrem became a member of a celibate ascetic sect known as the “Children of the Covenant” (ܒܢܝ ܩܝܡܐ/bnay qyāmâ), a pre-monastic group led by Aphrahat (ܐܦܪܗܛ/Ap̄rahaṭ; c. A.D. 280 – c. 345), an important theological figure in the Christian Syrian tradition.[5] Ephrem is often depicted in icons as an extreme ascetic. For nearly years, Ephrem practiced an ascetic and spiritual lifestyle in Nisibis, soaking in the mysteries of the faith, learning, and teaching the orthodox doctrines. In A.D. 363, Nisibis fell to the Persian Empire, Jacob died, and Ephrem moved to Roman Edessa (ܐܘܪܗܝ/ʾŌrhāy), Osroëne, which is now Şanlıurfa, Turkey.[6] During this time, Schaff notes:
[Ephrem] lived a hermit in a cavern near the city, and spent his time in ascetic exercises, in reading, writing, and preaching to the monks and the people with great effect. He acquired complete mastery over his naturally violent temper, he denied himself all pleasures, and slept on the bare ground. He opposed the remnants of idolatry in the surrounding country, and defended the Nicene orthodoxy against all classes of heretics. He made a journey to Egypt, where he spent several years among the hermits. He also visited, by divine admonition, Basil the Great at Cæsarea, who ordained him deacon. Basil held him in the highest esteem, and afterwards sent two of his pupils to Edessa to ordain him bishop; but Ephræm, in order to escape the responsible office, behaved like a fool, and the messengers returned with the report that he was out of his mind. Basil told them that the folly was on their side, and Ephræm was a man full of divine wisdom.[7]
Because of his giftedness in learning, and certainly due to his firsthand witnessing of the Council of Nicæa, Ephrem had a passion for zealously defending orthodoxy. As Taylor notes, in his small community, Ephrem had to face attacks from longstanding heterodox sects such as the Marcionites, Manichæans, and Bardaisanites, but also the new Arian heresy as well as the resurgence of paganism on the rise under the Emperor Julian.[8]
As a child, Ephrem had a received a prophetic vision about his life, one in which his sermons and hymns would be his progeny. In his Testament, he writes:
When I was a child, and lay in my mother’s bosom, I saw as in a dream that which has become a reality. From my tongue there sprang a vine twig, which grew and reached to heaven: it brought forth fruit without end, and leaves without number. It spread, it grew, it lengthened, it expanded itself, it went round about, it stretched abroad till it reached the whole creation. All beings gathered of it, and there was no lack: yea, the more they plucked, so much the more its clusters multiplied. Those clusters were sermons, those leaves were hymns, and God was the giver. To Him be glory for His grace, whereby He has made me receive according as He willed from the storehouse of His treasures (Opp. Gr. ii. 408).[9]
In his Edessan cavern, Ephrem began writing extensive biblical commentaries, theological treatises, and polemical debates. However, Ephrem is perhaps most well-known for his hundreds of theological hymns, written to catechize the faithful through song. Unique to Ephrem is that these works highlight a theological style that went far beyond the plain meaning of the biblical texts. Whether it was a hymn (madrāshē) or a homily (mēmrē), Ephrem makes abundant use of typology and symbolism. As Cross and Livingstone note, “Although Ephræm abhors any systematic presentation, his theological vision is nevertheless a coherent one.”[10] Theodoret of Cyrus (Θεοδώρητος Κύρρου; c. A.D. 393 – c. 458/466) writes the story on how Ephrem began writing hymns as a way to interrupt popular music which promoted heresy:
Ephraim used the Syriac language as a medium for reflecting the rays of divine grace; and although unacquainted with the language of the Greeks, he most ably refuted all their errors, and exposed all the evil machinations of the heretics, Harmonius, the son of Bardesanis, having composed some hymns, in which impiety was disguised beneath the charms of verse, to the destruction of those who listened to them; Ephraim composed others, in which harmony and melody were combined with piety, and which subserved all the purposes of valuable and efficacious medicine. These verses are, even to this day, used at the festivals celebrated in honour of the victorious martyrs.[11]
Perhaps most beautiful in Ephrem’s hymns are his typological and vivid portrait of Christ. Ephrem wrote dozens of hymns on the nativity, and there is an obvious eucharistic center to his thinking, as well. As Amar notes: “To express the fullness of the mystery that is Christ, Ephrem juxtaposes images of the actual body of the historical Jesus with allusions to the eucharistic body of Christ, until, like particles in a kaleidoscope, the images merge and resolve into a single, integrated whole.[12] For instance, Ephrem contrasts Old Testament and New Testament meals with the eschatological vision of the Eucharist. Referencing the feeding of the thousands in various gospel passages, Ephrem writes:
They consumed the seven loaves of bread that He broke, and they finished also the five loaves of bread that He multiplied.
The one loaf of bread that He broke conquered the creation; for however much it is divided it multiplies all the more.
Again, a great deal of wine filled the water jugs; it was poured out and consumed although there had been a great deal.
Although small was the drink of the cup that He gave, very great was its power—infinite.
In the cup that accepts all wines, the mystery remains the same.The one loaf of bread He broke cannot be confined, and the one cup that He mingled cannot be limited.[13]
Ephrem also speaks to the “real presence” of Christ in the Eucharist, but not through systematic argumentation. Instead, he writes on the theological concept in verse form through another of his hymns of the nativity:
Let bread and the mind portray You. Dwell in bread and in those who eat it. In hidden and revealed [form] let your church see You as [does] the one who bore You.
Whoever hates Your bread is like that one who hates Your body. A distant one who loves Your bread [is like] a near one who cherishes Your image. In bread and body the former and the latter have seen You…
Your bread is far more honorable than Your body. For even the unbelievers saw Your body, but they do not see Your living bread…
Behold Your image is portrayed with the blood of the grapes upon the bread and portrayed upon the heart by the finger of love with the pigments of faith.[14]
Ephrem also parallels the eschatological purpose of the Eucharist as the “medicine of life” with the incarnation, baptism of Jesus, and indwelling of the bread and wine—with the “fire” of the Holy Spirit central to all of it:
In Your bread there is hidden the Spirit who is not consumed, in Your Wine there dwells the fire that is not drunk: the Spirit is in Your Bread, the Fire in Your Wine—a manifest wonder, that our lips have received.
To the angels who are spiritual Abraham brought food for the body, and they ate. The new miracle is that our mighty Lord has given to bodily man fire and Spirit to eat and to drink.
See, Fire and Spirit are in the womb of her who bore you, see, Fire and Spirit are in the river in which You were baptized. Fire and Spirit are in our baptismal font, in the Bread and Cup are Fire and Holy Spirit.[15]
While Ephrem makes no explicit mention of liturgical texts in his work, his hymns had a profound influence on Greek liturgical poetry and prayers, especially the kontakion, and on its greatest advocate, St. Romanos the Melodist (Ῥωμανὸς ὁ Μελωδός; c. A.D. 490 – c. 556), a Syrio-Greek hymnographer and deacon.[16]
Reading Ephrem’s hymns today in English, one can still see the imagery and feel the intensity and power of his writing. Understanding the Syriac language and seeing metric rhythms in his verse would make his sung hymns even more encompassing. However, as Sozomen (Σωζομενός; c. A.D. 400 – c. 450) noted as a contemporary of Ephrem,
The productions of Ephraim have not this disadvantage: they were translated into Greek during his life, and translations are even now being made, and yet they preserve much of their original force and power, so that his works are not less admired when read in Greek than when read in Syriac.[17]
It is no wonder that Ephrem’s work was distributed far and wide, as well as fabricated works attributed to him (and legends surrounding his life). Ephrem died of “extreme old age” during a famine, but his legacy is immense for the Syrian Church. As Shea notes, “Later sources suggest that Ephrem was responsible for founding the School of Edessa, a center of Christian learning.”[18]
On a personal level, there are several areas of Ephrem’s life and ministry that can teach us today. Firstly, long before his diaconal ordination, Ephrem was devoted to his bishop, Jacob. For nearly forty years, Ephrem served and attended him. When he was ultimately ordained in his fifties, Ephrem had lived in the diaconal calling of service for most of his life. Second, Ephrem shows us that the diaconal vocation has teaching and catechesis as one of its priorities. Ephrem’s ingenuity in instructing the faithful and converting unbelievers is paramount. It is also important to remember that much of Ephrem’s work are also homilies. Third, as a deacon, there is an inward call to serve at the altar. Ephrem’s devotion to the Eucharist shines through his hymns and other writings, and it is certain that he served his bishop well in this area. And finally, Ephrem’s humility should serve as an inspiration for our own callings. When offered to become a priest (and later bishop), Ephrem rejected the thought, seeing his ministry of an emptying out of himself rather than building up his own honor or glory. One of his most famous prayers is used during the season of Lent on weekdays in the Orthodox Church: “O Lord and Master of my life, grant me not a spirit of sloth, meddling, love of power, and idle talk. But give to me, your servant, a spirit of sober-mindedness, humility, patience, and love. Yes, O Lord and King, grant me to see my own faults and not to judge my brother, since you are blessed to the ages of ages. Amen.” This focus on humbleness is one that we can all learn from. As Shea notes in his Pictorial Lives of the Saints:
Till his death, [Ephrem] wept for the slight sins committed in the thoughtlessness of boyhood. He refused the dignity of the priesthood. “I,” he told St. Basil, whom he went to see at the bidding of the Holy Spirit, “I am that Ephrem who have wandered from the path of heaven.” Then bursting into tears; he cried out, “O my father, have pity on a sinful wretch, and lead me on the narrow way.”[19]
And so, may we learn from St. Ephrem the Syrian. May he teach us as he has taught so many faithful through the ages. May we see more clearly the creative power of God, the redemptive nature of His Son, and live in the fire of the Holy Spirit. And, may we learn to live in his humility, lowering ourselves so that Christ Jesus may be risen.
[1] Jérôme Labourt, “St. Ephraem,” The Catholic Encyclopedia, Vol. 5 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1909). https://www.newadvent.org/cathen/05498a.htm.
[2] William Smith and Henry Wace, eds., “Ephraim (4) the Syrian,” A Dictionary of Christian Biography, Literature, Sects and Doctrines (London: John Murray, 1877–1887), 137.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Eric J. Tully, “Edessa,” ed. John D. Barry et al., The Lexham Bible Dictionary (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2016).
[6] Lucas Van Rompay, “The Christian Syriac Tradition of Interpretation,” ed. Magne Sæbø, Hebrew Bible / Old Testament. I: From the Beginnings to the Middle Ages (Until 1300). Part 1: Antiquity, Vol. 1 (Göttingen, Germany: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996), 622.
[7] Philip Schaff and David Schley Schaff, History of the Christian Church, vol. 3 (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1910), 951.
[8] David G. K. Taylor, “Ephrem (c. 306–73),” The Dictionary of Historical Theology (Carlisle, Cumbria, U.K.: Paternoster Press, 2000), 185.
[9] Smith and Wace, eds., “Ephraim (4) the Syrian,” 137.
[10] F. L. Cross and Elizabeth A. Livingstone, eds., The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 554.
[11] Theodoretus, A History of the Church in Five Books (London: Samuel Bagster and Sons, 1843), 267.
[12] Joseph P. Amar, “Perspectives on the Eucharist in Ephrem the Syrian,” Worship 61 (1987), 446.
[13] Ephrem the Syrian, Ephrem the Syrian: Hymns, ed. Bernard McGinn, trans. Kathleen E. McVey, The Classics of Western Spirituality (New York; Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1989), 96–97.
[14] Ibid., 149–150.
[15] Bryan D. Spinks, Do This in Remembrance of Me: The Eucharist from the Early Church to the Present Day, SCM Studies in Worship and Liturgy (London: SCM Press, 2013), 80.
[16] Taylor, “Ephrem (c. 306–73),” 185.
[17] Sozomen, A History of the Church in Nine Books (London: Samuel Bagster and Sons, 1846), 132.
[19] John Gilmary Shea, Pictorial Lives of the Saints (New York; Cincinnati; Chicago: Benziger Brothers, 1887), 306.
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