Under the reign of Totila, Saint Benedict subdued a Goth named Zalla, who was steeped in the Arian heresy, with a single glance.
This barbarian exercised the most revolting cruelty against the pious children of the Catholic Church, to such an extent that if a clergyman or a religious happened to meet him, it was impossible to escape from his hands with one's life.
One day, consumed by the thirst of insatiable greed and breathing nothing but theft and brigandage, he overwhelmed a poor peasant with the cruelest treatments and tore him apart with various tortures. Overwhelmed with pain, the victim declared that he had entrusted his person and his goods to the care of God's servant, Saint Benedict; his aim, if the monster gave credence to his assertion, was to suspend the rigors of his cruelty and to breathe for a moment.
Zalla indeed ceased tormenting him; after binding his arms with strong ropes, he forced him to walk in front of his horse and to come show him who this Benedict was, the keeper of his goods. With his arms bound in this way, the peasant preceded him and led him to the monastery of the holy man, whom he found alone before the convent gate, seated and occupied with reading.
Now, the peasant said to the fierce Zalla, who was following his steps:
"Here is the one I spoke to you about; this is Abbot Benedict."
In the delirium of his perverse thoughts, the barbarian, boiling with anger, cast a look of contempt upon Benedict, and imagining he would triumph over him as he had over others, with the help of terror, he began to shout with all his might:
"Get up! Get up! And give me back the goods you have received from this peasant."
At these cries, the man of God immediately raised his eyes from his book, looked at him, and at the same time considered the bound victim. Scarcely had he cast his gaze upon his arms, when suddenly, by an astonishing prodigy, the ropes that held them chained unwound with more speed than if the most skilled hand had detached them, and the unfortunate man who had come laden with bonds found himself suddenly freed from his shackles.
At the sight of this prodigious power, Zalla, terrified, fell to the ground, bowed his cruel and indomitable head at the feet of the man of God, and ended by commending himself to his prayers. The holy man left neither his seat nor his reading; but he called some religious and ordered them to bring Zalla in so that he might receive hospitality.
When he was brought back to him, he warned him to renounce the excesses of such revolting barbarity. Zalla withdrew utterly dismayed, no longer thinking of demanding anything from the peasant whom the man of God had delivered from his bonds with a single glance, and without taking the trouble to touch him.
Here indeed, my dear Peter, is the verification of my words: those who serve the almighty God with all their heart can sometimes work miracles by the sole effect of their power. He who tamed the ferocity of this terrible Goth, he who by the power of his gaze detached the bonds that shackled the arms of an innocent victim, shows us, by the swiftness with which he worked this prodigy, that he had received from Heaven the power to accomplish it.
To this account, I will add another, to teach you that he had recourse to prayer in order to obtain from God a great and prodigious miracle.
One day, Saint Benedict had gone out with the religious to work in the countryside. Now, a peasant, his heart flooded with affliction, came to the monastery, carrying in his arms the icy body of his son. He asked for the venerable abbot.
He was told that he was working in the countryside with the religious. Immediately, he threw the corpse of his son at the monastery gate, and, in the turmoil of his grief, he began to run with all his might to fetch the venerable Father.
Precisely at the same hour, the man of God was returning from the labors, in the company of his religious. Scarcely had the desolate peasant caught sight of him, when he began to cry out:
"Give me back my son! Give me back my son!"
At this cry, the man of God, stopping, said to him:
"What! Have I taken your son from you?"
— "He is dead," he replied, "come and resurrect him."
These words deeply distressed the man of God.
"Withdraw, my brothers," he said, "withdraw; such works are not for us to do, but for the holy Apostles. Why do you wish to impose burdens on us that we cannot bear?"
But this poor father, pressed by the excess of his sorrow, persevered in his prayer, and swore that he would not withdraw until he had resurrected his son. Then the servant of God said to him:
"Where is he?"
The peasant replied:
"There is his corpse lying at the monastery gate."
Having arrived at that place with his religious, the man of God knelt down, lay upon the little body of the child, rose, and, with hands outstretched toward heaven, said:
"Lord, do not look upon my sins, but upon the faith of this man who asks for the resurrection of his son, and restore to this little body the soul which You have taken from it."
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Scarcely had he finished his prayer, when the soul returned and caused the entire body of the little child to tremble. The spectators witnessed this universal agitation and this marvelous palpitation. The Saint immediately took the child by the hand and returned him, full of strength and health, to his father, overjoyed with delight.
It is clear that he did not have in himself the power to work this miracle, since, to obtain it, he had to prostrate himself and address a fervent prayer to God.
Source: Saint Gregory the Great – The Dialogues – Translation by Abbé Henry – 1851