Letter 23: Jerome writes to Marcella to console her for the loss of a friend who, like herself, was the head of a religious society at Rome. The news of Lea's death had first reached Marcella when she was engaged with Jerome in the study of the 73d psalm. Later in the day he writes this letter in which, after extolling Lea, he contrasts her end with that o...
Persecution or exile; Slavery or captivity; Military conflict
To Marcella
Today, around nine in the morning, just as I was beginning to read through Psalm 72 with you -- the first psalm of the third book -- and to explain that its heading belonged partly to the second book and partly to the third (the previous book ending with "the prayers of David son of Jesse are ended," and the next opening with "a psalm of Asaph") -- just as I had reached the verse where the righteous man declares, "If I say, I will speak thus, behold, I should offend against the generation of your children" (differently worded in our Latin version) -- suddenly the news arrived that our most saintly friend Lea had left this world. Naturally, you went deathly pale. Few people, if any, can hold back tears when the earthen vessel shatters. But if you wept, it was not from any doubt about her fate; it was only because you had not been able to pay her the last rites due to the dead. Then, while we were still talking, a second message came: her body had already been taken to Ostia.
Why repeat all this? you may ask. I will answer with the apostle: "Much, in every way." First, because everyone should welcome with joy the release of a soul that has trampled Satan underfoot and won, at last, a crown of peace. Second, because it gives me a chance to sketch her life, however briefly. Third, because it lets me point out that the consul-elect -- that man who so despised his own age -- is now in hell.
Who can adequately praise the way our dear Lea lived? Her conversion to the Lord was so complete that, as head of a convent, she proved herself a true mother to the nuns under her care. She wore rough sackcloth instead of fine robes. She spent her nights in prayer instead of sleep. She taught her companions more by example than by instruction. Her humility was such that she who had once been mistress over many was regarded as the servant of all -- and certainly, the less she resembled an earthly mistress, the more she became a servant of Christ. She paid no attention to her appearance, neglected her hair, and ate only the plainest food. Yet in everything she did she avoided display, so as not to collect her reward in this world.
Now, therefore, in return for her brief toil, Lea enjoys everlasting happiness. She is welcomed into the choir of angels. She rests in Abraham's embrace. And just as the beggar Lazarus once looked up and saw the rich man, for all his purple, writhing in torment, so Lea now looks down and sees the consul -- no longer in his triumphal robes but dressed in mourning, begging for a drop of water from her fingertip. What a reversal! Just days ago the highest officials of the city walked before him as he climbed to the Capitol like a general celebrating a triumph. The Roman people leapt to their feet to welcome and applaud him. At the news of his death the whole city was shaken. Now he is abandoned and naked, a prisoner in the foulest darkness -- not, as his deluded wife likes to claim, enthroned in the royal palace of the Milky Way. Lea, on the other hand -- always shut away in her little room, seemingly poor and insignificant, her life dismissed as madness -- now follows Christ and sings: "As we have heard, so we have seen, in the city of our God."
And now the moral of all this, which I beg you, with tears and groans, to remember. While we run the race of this world, we must not clothe ourselves in two coats -- that is, in a double faith -- or burden ourselves with leather sandals, which stand for dead works. We must not let moneybags weigh us down or lean on the staff of worldly power. We must not try to possess both Christ and the world. No: things eternal must replace things temporary. And since, in physical terms, we face the prospect of death every day, if we desire immortality we must come to terms with the fact that we are mortal.
To Marcella
Jerome writes to Marcella to console her for the loss of a friend who, like herself, was the head of a religious society at Rome. The news of Lea's death had first reached Marcella when she was engaged with Jerome in the study of the 73d psalm. Later in the day he writes this letter in which, after extolling Lea, he contrasts her end with that of the consul-elect, Vettius Agorius Prætextatus, a man of great ability and integrity, whom he declares to be now in Tartarus. Written at Rome in 384 A.D.
1. Today, about the third hour, just as I was beginning to read with you the seventy-second psalm — the first, that is, of the third book — and to explain that its title belonged partly to the second book and partly to the third — the previous book, I mean, concluding with the words the prayers of David the son of Jesse are ended, and the next commencing with the words a psalm of Asaph — and just as I had come on the passage in which the righteous man declares: If I say, I will speak thus; behold I should offend against the generation of your children, a verse which is differently rendered in our Latin version: — suddenly the news came that our most saintly friend Lea had departed from the body. As was only natural, you turned deadly pale; for there are few persons, if any, who do not burst into tears when the earthen vessel breaks. 2 Corinthians 4:7 But if you wept it was not from doubt as to her future lot, but only because you had not rendered to her the last sad offices which are due to the dead. Finally, as we were still conversing together, a second message informed us that her remains had been already conveyed to Ostia.
2. You may ask what is the use of repeating all this. I will reply in the apostle's words, much every way. Romans 3:2 First, it shows that all must hail with joy the release of a soul which has trampled Satan under foot, and won for itself, at last, a crown of tranquillity. Secondly, it gives me an opportunity of briefly describing her life. Thirdly, it enables me to assure you that the consul-elect, that detractor of his age, is now in Tartarus.
Who can sufficiently eulogize our dear Lea's mode of living? So complete was her conversion to the Lord that, becoming the head of a monastery, she showed herself a true mother to the virgins in it, wore coarse sackcloth instead of soft raiment, passed sleepless nights in prayer, and instructed her companions even more by example than by precept. So great was her humility that she, who had once been the mistress of many, was accounted the servant of all; and certainly, the less she was reckoned an earthly mistress the more she became a servant of Christ. She was careless of her dress, neglected her hair, and ate only the coarsest food. Still, in all that she did, she avoided ostentation that she might not have her reward in this world. Matthew 6:2
3. Now, therefore, in return for her short toil, Lea enjoys everlasting felicity; she is welcomed into the choirs of the angels; she is comforted in Abraham's bosom. And, as once the beggar Lazarus saw the rich man, for all his purple, lying in torment, so does Lea see the consul, not now in his triumphal robe but clothed in mourning, and asking for a drop of water from her little finger. Luke 16:19-24 How great a change have we here! A few days ago the highest dignitaries of the city walked before him as he ascended the ramparts of the capitol like a general celebrating a triumph; the Roman people leapt up to welcome and applaud him, and at the news of his death the whole city was moved. Now he is desolate and naked, a prisoner in the foulest darkness, and not, as his unhappy wife falsely asserts, set in the royal abode of the milky way. On the other hand Lea, who was always shut up in her one closet, who seemed poor and of little worth, and whose life was accounted madness, Wisdom 5:4 now follows Christ and sings, Like as we have heard, so have we seen in the city of our God.
4. And now for the moral of all this, which, with tears and groans, I conjure you to remember. While we run the way of this world, we must not clothe ourselves with two coats, that is, with a twofold faith, or burden ourselves with leathern shoes, that is, with dead works; we must not allow scrips filled with money to weigh us down, or lean upon the staff of worldly power. Matthew 10:10 We must not seek to possess both Christ and the world. No; things eternal must take the place of things transitory; 2 Corinthians 4:18 and since, physically speaking, we daily anticipate death, if we wish for immortality we must realize that we are but mortal.
About this page
Source. Translated by W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 6. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1893.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3001023.htm>.
Contact information. The editor of New Advent is Kevin Knight. My email address is feedback732 at newadvent.org. (To help fight spam, this address might change occasionally.) Regrettably, I can't reply to every letter, but I greatly appreciate your feedback — especially notifications about typographical errors and inappropriate ads.
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To Marcella
Today, around nine in the morning, just as I was beginning to read through Psalm 72 with you -- the first psalm of the third book -- and to explain that its heading belonged partly to the second book and partly to the third (the previous book ending with "the prayers of David son of Jesse are ended," and the next opening with "a psalm of Asaph") -- just as I had reached the verse where the righteous man declares, "If I say, I will speak thus, behold, I should offend against the generation of your children" (differently worded in our Latin version) -- suddenly the news arrived that our most saintly friend Lea had left this world. Naturally, you went deathly pale. Few people, if any, can hold back tears when the earthen vessel shatters. But if you wept, it was not from any doubt about her fate; it was only because you had not been able to pay her the last rites due to the dead. Then, while we were still talking, a second message came: her body had already been taken to Ostia.
Why repeat all this? you may ask. I will answer with the apostle: "Much, in every way." First, because everyone should welcome with joy the release of a soul that has trampled Satan underfoot and won, at last, a crown of peace. Second, because it gives me a chance to sketch her life, however briefly. Third, because it lets me point out that the consul-elect -- that man who so despised his own age -- is now in hell.
Who can adequately praise the way our dear Lea lived? Her conversion to the Lord was so complete that, as head of a convent, she proved herself a true mother to the nuns under her care. She wore rough sackcloth instead of fine robes. She spent her nights in prayer instead of sleep. She taught her companions more by example than by instruction. Her humility was such that she who had once been mistress over many was regarded as the servant of all -- and certainly, the less she resembled an earthly mistress, the more she became a servant of Christ. She paid no attention to her appearance, neglected her hair, and ate only the plainest food. Yet in everything she did she avoided display, so as not to collect her reward in this world.
Now, therefore, in return for her brief toil, Lea enjoys everlasting happiness. She is welcomed into the choir of angels. She rests in Abraham's embrace. And just as the beggar Lazarus once looked up and saw the rich man, for all his purple, writhing in torment, so Lea now looks down and sees the consul -- no longer in his triumphal robes but dressed in mourning, begging for a drop of water from her fingertip. What a reversal! Just days ago the highest officials of the city walked before him as he climbed to the Capitol like a general celebrating a triumph. The Roman people leapt to their feet to welcome and applaud him. At the news of his death the whole city was shaken. Now he is abandoned and naked, a prisoner in the foulest darkness -- not, as his deluded wife likes to claim, enthroned in the royal palace of the Milky Way. Lea, on the other hand -- always shut away in her little room, seemingly poor and insignificant, her life dismissed as madness -- now follows Christ and sings: "As we have heard, so we have seen, in the city of our God."
And now the moral of all this, which I beg you, with tears and groans, to remember. While we run the race of this world, we must not clothe ourselves in two coats -- that is, in a double faith -- or burden ourselves with leather sandals, which stand for dead works. We must not let moneybags weigh us down or lean on the staff of worldly power. We must not try to possess both Christ and the world. No: things eternal must replace things temporary. And since, in physical terms, we face the prospect of death every day, if we desire immortality we must come to terms with the fact that we are mortal.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.