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...

JeromeMarcella|c. 377 AD|jerome
grief deathimperial politicsmonasticismproperty economicsslavery captivitytravel mobilitywomen
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.

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

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