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Whenever Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, stood before newly baptized Christians on Easter week, his task seemed straightforward: to explain the meaning of the initiations they had recently undergone. His explanations, however, were peppered with dialogue, as he thought aloud about the impression these rites had made on the new converts. He recounted the previous days' events in these words: “You went, you washed, you came to the altar, you began to see what you had not seen before.” This promise of novel sights, however, could not dispel the neophytes' lingering doubts. Aloud, he imagined their questions: “Is this that great mystery which the eye has not seen nor the ear heard … ? I see waters which I used to see daily; are these able to cleanse me?” Ambrose wondered if the baptism lacked sufficient majesty, such that a catechumen might ask, “‘Is this all?’” Ambrose already knew what he would reply, “Yes, this is all, truly all.” Baptism, the rite often timed to coincide with Easter, might disappoint as much as it inspired awe.

Early Christian pilgrimage involved a journey to a place in order to gain access to sacred power, whether manifested in living persons, demarcated spaces, or specific objects. Movement towards the sacred site, as well as ritualized movements once at the destination, shaped pilgrimage. Places associated with the Bible drew large numbers of pilgrims from throughout the Empire. Yet, local martyrs' shrines and pilgrimage centres with international appeal drew visitors to Italy, Asia Minor, Syria, and Egypt. Travel to sacred centres was common in Mediterranean religions. The Jewish pilgrimage festivals of Passover, Pentecost, and Tabernacles drew large crowds to Jerusalem until the Temple's destruction in 70 CE. Early Christians maintained many of these practices. They gathered at the burial places of martyrs for prayers and held funerary banquets there.

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The starting point for this essay is a postmortem episode from the Life of Macrina, when the saint's brother (and biographer) recalls finding a scar on his sister's body as he prepared it for burial (chap. 31). Close analysis of the language and literary structure of the episode suggests that Gregory of Nyssa modeled it on a famous scene from the Odyssey, the discovery of Odysseus' scar (Ody. 19). Guided by literary theorist E. Auerbach's analysis of Odysseus' scar, this essay argues that the scar flashback is significant for establishing Macrina's identity. Why Gregory would have presented Macrina as a scarred and "baptized Odysseus" is the central question of this essay, which explores the legacy of Homer in Christian late antiquity and the construction of heroic identity in early saints' lives.