Phocas was a gardener who was a really, really good guy. Generous. Kind. He loved growing food and sharing it with those who were hungry. He welcomed people to his little town of Sinope (in present-day Turkey). He liked being helpful and felt that he could learn whatever he needed to learn about God from his garden!

Phocas readily extended hospitality, conversation, and a good meal to anyone in need, and he enjoyed people. He was a Christian who felt no need to do anything but garden and be kind. As a result, Phocas was really quite well-loved in his community.

Somewhere around the year 303, one of those persecutions of Christians was afoot, and Phocas was on a list of  Christians to be executed (you can scare people more if you get rid of the good people). So, the story goes, two executioners were sent to Sinope, to find this man named Phocas. No sooner had they reached this town, but of course Phocas invited them to his home for a meal! He fed them well and invited them to stay the night in his lodging!

Midway through the dinner, these two told him why they were in town–to find and execute this Christian named Phocas. They asked him if he could direct them to their quarry, since their kindly host seemed likely to know everyone in town. He told his two guests that if they would just enjoy their meal and have a good night’s sleep, he’d lead them to this Phocas come morning, because he knew that man very, very well!

As the two slept, Phocas spent the night outside, digging his own grave, preparing everything for his burial, and praying.

Come morning, the two men arose, had a good breakfast, and asked their host to direct them to Phocas. He told them something to the effect of “You’re looking at him!” The two executioners were surprised and dismayed–experiencing the humanity of their intended victim was NOT supposed to be how bloody persecutions are supposed to work!

Alas, order are orders and Phocas purposely did nothing to make them feel worse than they did about doing what he knew they would end up doing. The two beheaded him.

After they left, the townspeople built a church in Phocas’s honor, and this humble church soon became a way station for travelers and those seeking the kind of hospitality for which Phocas had been so well-known locally. His story even became the stuff of folk songs far and wide.

Phocus was…Phocus. He didn’t change being who he was, try to escape being who he was, or force who he was upon anybody. He was…is…a saint among saints!