Hilarion devoted himself to reading and studying the holy Scriptures. His food consisted of a few figs and the juice of herbs, which he never took before sunset. His mortification and humility were wonderful, and by means of these and other virtues he overcame many terrible temptations of the evil one, and cast innumerable devils out of the possessed in many parts of the world. Hilarion gathered many disciples around him and founded many monasteries in Palestine. In 357 he visited the tomb of Saint Antony in Egypt, and afterwards, to escape from the crowds who continually thronged about him seeking the cure of their maladies, he kept travelling from country to country. He visited Egypt, Sicily, Dalmatia, and Cyprus where he died in 371. In his last agony he exclaimed: “Go forth, my soul, why do you fear? Go forth, why do you hesitate? You have served Christ for nearly seventy years, and you fear death?”
Dom Prosper Guéranger:
“Monks were unknown in Syria before Saint Hilarion,” says his historian Saint Jerome. “He instituted the monastic life in that country, and was the master of those who embraced it. The Lord Jesus had his Anthony in Egypt and his Hilarion in Palestine, the former advanced in years, the latter still young.” Now our Lord very soon raised this young man to such glory that Anthony would say to the sick who came to him from Syria attracted by the fame of his miracles: “Why take the trouble to come so far, when you have near you my son Hilarion?” And yet Hilarion had spent only two months with Anthony, after which the patriarch had said to him: “Persevere to the end, my son, and your labour will win you the delights of Heaven.” Then, giving a hair-shirt and a garment of skin to this boy of fifteen whom he was never to see again, he sent him back to sanctify the solitudes of his own country, while he himself retired farther into the desert.
The enemy of mankind, foreseeing a formidable adversary in this new solitary, waged a terrible war against him. Even the flesh, in spite of the young ascetic’s fasts, was Satan’s first accomplice. But without any pity for a body so frail and delicate, as his historian says, that any effort would have seemed sufficient to destroy it, Hilarion cried out indignantly: “Ass, I will see that you kick no more. I will reduce you by hunger, I will crush you with burdens, I will make you work in all weathers. You will be so pinched with hunger, that you will think no more of pleasure.” Vanquished in this quarter, the enemy found other allies through whom he thought to drive Hilarion by fear back to the dwellings of men. But to the robbers who fell on his poor wicker hut, the Saint said smiling: “He who is naked has no fear of thieves.” And they, touched by his virtue, could not conceal their admiration and promised to amend their lives. Then Satan determined to come in person, as he had done to Anthony, but with no better success. No trouble could disturb the serenity attained by that simple, holy soul. One day the demon entered into a camel and made it mad so that it rushed on the Saint with horrible cries. But he only answered: “I am not afraid of you: you are always the same, whether you come as a fox or a camel.” And the huge beast fell down tamed at his feet.
There was a harder trial yet to come from the most cunning artifice of the serpent. When Hilarion sought to hide himself from the immense concourse of people who besieged his poor cell, the enemy maliciously published his fame far and wide, and brought to him overwhelming crowds from every land. In vain he quitted Syria and travelled the length and breadth of Egypt. In vain, pursued from desert to desert, he crossed the sea and hoped to conceal himself in Sicily, in Dalmatia, in Cyprus. From the ship which was making its way among the Cyclades he heard in each island the infernal spirits calling one another from the towns and villages and running to the shores as he passed by. At Paphos where he landed the same concourse of demons brought to him multitudes of men, until at length God took pity on His servant and discovered to him a place inaccessible to his fellow-men, where he had no company but legions of devils who surrounded him day and night. Far from fearing, says his biographer, he took pleasure in the neighbourhood of his old antagonist whom he knew well, and he lived there in great peace the last five years before his death.
To be a Hilarion, and yet to fear death! “If in the green wood they do these things, what will be done in the dry!” (Luke xxiii. 31) O glorious Saint, penetrate us with the apprehension of God’s judgements. Teach us that Christian fear does not banish love, but on the contrary, clears the way and leads to it, and then accompanies it through life as an attentive and faithful guardian. This holy fear was your security at your last hour. May it protect us also along the path of life, and at death introduce us immediately into Heaven!
