In 7th-century Damascus, a Christian named Sergius Mansur and his wife raised an orphan boy named Cosmas alongside their own son, John, born a few years later. These two boys—one adopted, the other biological—would grow to be not only saints of the Orthodox Church but also renowned hymnographers. On 25 October, the Church celebrates the feast of St Cosmas, Bishop of Maiuma, and honours his bond with his foster brother, St John of Damascus.
Many of us sing the sticheron “O Heavenly King” daily, unaware that St Cosmas was its author. This is just one example of the many hymns he composed, which are still sung in Orthodox services. When we read the canons for the Twelve Great Feasts, we often encounter hymns written by St Cosmas and St John, either individually or collaboratively. For instance, the Paschal Canon is attributed to St John of Damascus, while the canon for the Exaltation of the Cross is the work of St Cosmas.
Sadly, little personal information about these hymnographers has survived. They left few writings about themselves, and later biographers recorded many details of their lives, leading some scholars to question their authenticity. Consequently, historical sources offer differing accounts of the exact years of their lives. However, the Orthodox Church preserves a rich Tradition that honours their memory, blending historical research with a timeless devotion. Following this Tradition, we celebrate their legacy with joy, supported by both faith and history.
Brothers in Faith and Genius
In 661, Damascus became the capital of the Islamic Caliphate, a young but rapidly expanding empire. Though Islam had only been founded in 632 with the death of the Prophet Muhammad, the Caliphate now spanned a vast territory. In Damascus, Christians and Jews were allowed to practice their faith freely and often held influential positions within the state.
One such official was Sergius Mansur (known in Arabic as Sarjun ibn Mansur), the “great logothete” or chief treasurer to the Caliph. Sergius and his wife had two sons: their natural son, John, and their adopted son, Cosmas, who was three to five years older. While exact birth dates remain uncertain, it’s believed both boys were born in the latter part of the 7th century.
Sergius was known for his compassion and frequently ransomed Christian captives, helping them to rebuild their lives. On one occasion, he encountered an elderly monk in a slave market, weeping. “Why do you weep?” Sergius asked. “I do not fear captivity,” the monk replied, “but I mourn that I can no longer pass on my knowledge.” This monk, whose name was also Cosmas, was skilled in secular learning, music, and theology. Seeing an opportunity to enrich his sons’ education, Sergius purchased the monk’s freedom and invited him to be their tutor.
Under the monk Cosmas’ guidance, the two boys absorbed a profound knowledge of theology, literature, and music. When their teacher sensed that his pupils had surpassed him, he sought permission from Sergius to retire to Mar Saba, the Holy Lavra of St Sabbas the Sanctified, near Jerusalem. In time, his young pupils would follow him there, dedicating their talents to the Church and composing hymns whose power and theological depth continue to enrich Orthodox worship over 1,300 years later.
The shared genius of Cosmas and John is a marvel. While the influence of a gifted teacher is undeniable, it is rare for even the greatest mentors to inspire disciples to such heights. Could this brilliance be attributed solely to their teacher, or to the faith and love instilled in them by their father, whom Byzantine chroniclers describe as “the most Christian man”? Perhaps their genius was nurtured by both, yet no amount of education or parental devotion alone guarantees such extraordinary gifts.
Instead, it seems the brothers were blessed by God with a unique spiritual gift. Their works inspire reverence and spiritual wonder in generations who hear them, even in translation. As Scripture reminds us, “The Spirit breathes wherever He wills” (John 3:8)—and often, His grace responds to a heart open to learning, raised in love, and steeped in faith.
A Bond Beyond Words
Friendship, especially over the span of centuries, is hard to capture. Few words can do justice to true friendship, which often needs no words at all—a friend is one with whom you can share silence, understanding, and an unwavering connection, even over long distances.
A pivotal episode in the life of John of Damascus highlights the strength of his character and his unshakable convictions. John, who had inherited a prominent position at court, became an outspoken defender of icons when icon veneration was being challenged. The iconoclastic Emperor Leo the Isaurian orchestrated a plot, forging a letter in John’s handwriting, proposing that Damascus be surrendered to Byzantium. This deception led to the Caliph ordering John’s punishment: his hand was cut off and he was imprisoned. Yet, after fervently praying to the Virgin Mary, a miraculous healing occurred. This event inspired the chant “All of Creation Rejoiceth in Thee” and is also linked to the icon of “The Three Hands.” Moved to remorse, the Caliph pardoned John, but John had made up his mind—he left his courtly life behind to pursue monasticism.
While this dramatic story is often depicted as John departing alone, most hagiographies suggest that he and Cosmas left together, renouncing their possessions and entering the Monastery of St. Sabbas the Sanctified near Jerusalem. Whether side by side or separated by distance, their friendship endured. Later, Cosmas would become the Bishop of Maiuma, a port region near Gaza. Yet even as circumstances took them down different paths, their creative partnership and mutual support remained steadfast.
Hymnography and Legacy
According to tradition, John of Damascus initially faced restrictions on composing hymns when he entered the Monastery of St. Sabbas the Sanctified. A strict elder had forbidden him to engage in hymn-writing, but through the intercession of the Most Holy Mother of God, John was eventually allowed to create his celebrated hymns. In contrast, we know very little about how St. Cosmas began his hymn-writing or how it developed within the monastery. However, it is clear that both monks were deeply committed to their sacred work, creating beautiful canons and hymns together.
Their compositions—primarily canons and stichera—reflect not only their devotion but also their formal training under their teacher, Cosmas, who had instructed them in theology, poetry, and music. At the time, traditional monastic custom favoured chanting scripture over what was perceived as “urban” liturgical singing, which may explain the initial resistance John encountered.
Today, the exact sound of these ancient hymns remains a mystery, with reconstructors of early music only able to approximate the melodies, and much of this music owes its structure to John of Damascus himself. Even more, we hear these hymns in translation, usually in Church Slavonic. Yet despite the language shift, these hymns are still sung, preserving their timeless beauty.
As Christmas approaches, we’ll soon hear the vibrant irmos “Christ is born, glorify Him!” composed by Cosmas of Maiuma. Interestingly, there is another canon for the Nativity written by John Damascene, as there are for many other feasts, including Epiphany, Pentecost, the Transfiguration, and the Dormition of the Theotokos. Though some may call these parallel canons a form of “poetic competition,” there is no sense of rivalry in their work. Rather, their hymns seem united by a shared vision and profound spiritual alignment, each offering unique imagery and depth.
Among the two Nativity canons, Cosmas’s is the most familiar, while for Pascha, we sing only John Damascene’s celebrated canon: “It is the Day of Resurrection, let us be radiant, O ye people!” These two great feasts are thus linked by the work of these two remarkable brothers.
Remarkably, many of their irmoi draw directly from the words of St. Gregory the Theologian on Nativity and Pascha. Their shared reverence for Gregory, an influential poet and theologian, undoubtedly shaped their creative spirit and deepened their friendship.
Among John Damascene’s most enduring works is the Paschal Canon, as well as the funeral verses sung across the eight tones: “What pleasure in this life remains unmarked by sorrow?” He is also credited with creating the system of the eight ecclesiastical tones foundational to the weekly liturgical cycle.
In turn, Cosmas authored the well-known Nativity hymn, “Christ is born, glorify Him!” and contributed to the moving Great and Holy Saturday canon, including the lines, “Weep not for me, O Mother…” Perhaps most widely known is his composition of the hymn to the Holy Spirit sung at Pentecost, “O Heavenly King…”
There is much more that could be said about their contributions, but we’ll conclude with these familiar examples, which offer a glimpse of the unparalleled skill and devotion of these hymnographers.
A Unique Canon and a Humble Legend
The canon composed by Cosmas of Maiuma for the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross has an unusual structure. Up to the eighth ode, the canon proceeds as one; however, at the ninth ode, a second canon unexpectedly appears, consisting of a hirmos and three troparia.
Typically, divine services may contain two or three canons, but these are sung from beginning to end, from the first ode to the ninth. Occasionally, shortened canons are added to full-length ones, sometimes consisting of only three, four, or even two odes—but a one-ode canon, like the one at the end of Cosmas’s Exaltation hymn, is rare and unique.
Tradition offers an explanation for this singular feature in the form of a story about St. Cosmas. One year on the eve of the Exaltation, Cosmas was in Antioch, visiting a church where no one recognised him. After the service, he approached the choir:
“You’ve made a mistake in this part of the canon!” he said. “It should be sung differently here.”
Naturally, the choir members responded, “And who are you to correct us?”
“I am the one who composed this canon,” he replied.
The singers laughed at him, “Oh really? Can you prove it?”
“Would you like me to write another ode to the canon right here?”
And there he composed the ninth ode of the second canon. The choir members recognised the undeniable style of a master and soon realised that they were in the presence of Cosmas himself, the author of the remarkable canon for the Exaltation of the Cross.
Although scholars regard this story as a legend without historical documentation, one can understand why the tale has endured. Some may even find it entirely believable.
Together in Life and in Death
Throughout their lives, John and Cosmas shared a deep bond. Though separated by distance when Cosmas was in Maiuma and John in the Monastery of St. Sabbas, they remained united in spirit and in their creative work, often expressing an inner dialogue—a sign of a profound and true friendship.
While the exact dates of their lives differ among sources, it is believed that Cosmas was slightly older than John and likely passed away about a year after him, also at the Monastery of St. Sabbas at the age of around 78.
Both saints were buried at their beloved monastery, and John Damascene dedicated his last and greatest work, The Fountain of Knowledge, to his brother, addressing it to the “Most Venerable and God-Honoured Cosmas.”
Translated by The Catalogue of Good Deeds
Source: https://www.miloserdie.ru/article/dva-bozhestvennyh-timpana-kosma-mayumskij-i-ioann-damaskin/
