Letter 107: Laeta, the daughter-in-law of Paula, having written from Rome to ask Jerome how she ought to bring up her infant daughter (also called Paula) as a virgin consecrated to Christ, Jerome now instructs her in detail as to the child's training and education. Feeling some doubt, however, as to whether the scheme proposed by him will be practicable at ...

JeromeLaeta|c. 406 AD|jerome
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Barbarian peoples/invasions; Imperial politics; Persecution or exile

Jerome to Laeta — greetings.

The apostle Paul, writing to the Corinthians to instruct a church still learning its Christian ABCs, laid down among other rules this one: "If a woman has an unbelieving husband who is willing to live with her, she must not leave him. The unbelieving husband is made holy through his believing wife" (1 Corinthians 7:13). Anyone who thought Christian discipline was being relaxed too far need only look at your own father's household — a man of the highest distinction and culture, still walking in the darkness of paganism — to see the sweet fruit that can grow from a bitter stock, the precious balsam that can come from an unpromising stem.

You yourself are the child of a mixed marriage. But Paula's parents — you and my dear friend Toxotius — are both Christians. Who could have believed that from the pagan pontiff Albinus would come, in answer to a mother's prayers, a Christian granddaughter? That the old man would delight to hear the little one stammering "Alleluia" at his knee? That in his old age he would be encircled by virgins and pray in the company of monks?

Now then: the child has been consecrated to God before her birth; she belongs to him from the womb. Here are the rules for raising her.

On diet and the body: She should not be given wine until she is grown. She should eat little meat. She should grow up on the plain food of the poor — wheat bread, vegetables, legumes. Do not dress her in silk or in gold. Do not perfume her hair. Do not pierce her ears. Do not load her with jewelry. All of this sounds harsh. It is not harsh. It is mercy. The girl who learns luxury in childhood will be enslaved to it for life; the girl trained in simplicity will be free.

On learning: Let her first lessons be the names of the apostles and prophets, not the mythology of pagans. She should learn the alphabet from ivory or boxwood letters — make it a game, give prizes for correct answers, let her compete with her little playmates. When she can form words with her hands and her tongue, let her writing-exercise be passages from the prophets and the Psalms. Psalms will suit her fingers; the wisdom literature will train her mind. Do not let her learn anything that she will need to unlearn. Let the lessons she learns early be the ones that will last.

On companions: She should not know boys. She should not play with talkative girls from worldly families. Let her companions be young women committed to virginity — quiet, serious, devoted to their prayers. Kept from bad company early, she will not miss it later.

On teachers: Let a learned old man, or a woman of unimpeachable virtue, have charge of her education. Let him — or her — be firm but kind. Learning should not be a punishment.

On her future: If you cannot manage all of this at Rome — and I have my doubts that you can, given how the city runs — then send the child here to Bethlehem, to her grandmother Paula and her aunt Eustochium. I say this plainly. The holy places, the life of the monastery, the example of consecrated women living for God alone — these are the best education a young girl can have. Rome offers spectacle; Bethlehem offers reality.

I know this seems a great deal. Consider, however, what you are raising: not merely a child, but a bride of Christ. The stakes are rather higher than ordinary parenting.

Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.

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