Letter 24: Concerning the virgin Asella. Dedicated to God before her birth, Marcella's sister had been made a church-virgin at the age of ten. From that time she had lived a life of the severest asceticism, first as a member and then as the head of Marcella's community upon the Aventine.

JeromeMarcella|c. 378 AD|jerome
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Letter 24: To Marcella, Concerning the Virgin Asella (384 AD)

[Jerome holds up Marcella's sister Asella as the ideal model of the consecrated virgin life. Asella had been dedicated to God before her birth, formally consecrated at age ten, and lived a life of extreme asceticism — first as a member, then as head of Marcella's religious community on the Aventine Hill in Rome.]

1. No one should fault my letters for the praise and blame they contain. To denounce sinners is to warn those in similar danger; to praise the virtuous is to spur the zeal of those who want to do right. The day before yesterday I wrote to you about Lea, of blessed memory, and barely had I finished when my conscience pricked me. It would be wrong, I thought, to celebrate a widow and pass over a virgin — who holds a higher rank. So in this letter I want to give you a brief portrait of our dear Asella's life. Please do not read it aloud to her; she would be horrified by praise directed at herself. Show it instead to the young women of your acquaintance, so they can follow her example and take her conduct as the pattern of a perfect life.

2. I'll skip over the fact that before her birth she was blessed while still in her mother's womb, or that she was presented to her father in a dream, carried in a bowl of gleaming glass brighter than any mirror. And I'll say nothing about her formal consecration to virginity, which took place when she was barely ten years old — a child still in swaddling clothes, so to speak. Everything that comes before works should be counted as grace [Romans 11:6], although God surely foreknew the future when he sanctified Jeremiah while still unborn [Jeremiah 1:5], when he made John leap in his mother's womb [Luke 1:41], and when, before the foundation of the world, he set apart Paul to preach the gospel of his Son [Ephesians 1:4].

3. What I want to describe is the life she chose for herself after her twelfth year — a life she seized, clung to, entered upon, and carried through. Confined to her tiny cell, she ranged freely through paradise. Fasting was her recreation; hunger was her refreshment. When she ate at all, it was not from desire for food but from sheer physical collapse — and the bread, salt, and cold water she allowed herself sharpened her appetite more than they satisfied it.

But I've nearly forgotten to mention what should have come first. While her resolve was still fresh, she took her gold necklace — one of those fashionable chain-link pieces, made in the "lamprey" pattern, where bars of metal interlock to form a flexible band — sold it without her parents' knowledge, and dressed herself in a dark gown her mother had never been willing to let her wear. Then she immediately consecrated herself to the Lord. By that single act she made it clear to her family: don't bother hoping for any further concessions from someone who, by her very clothing, had already condemned the world.

4. To continue: her habits were quiet and her life intensely private. She rarely went out and almost never spoke to a man. More remarkably still — much as she loved her virgin sister — she didn't seek her company. She worked with her own hands, knowing the Scripture: "If anyone will not work, let him not eat" [2 Thessalonians 3:10]. She spoke to the Bridegroom constantly through prayer and psalmody. She hurried to the martyrs' shrines unnoticed — and the less she was recognized, the more she enjoyed it. She fasted the entire year, going two or three days at a stretch without food; but when Lent arrived, she raised every sail, so to speak, and fasted nearly from one week's end to the next, all with a cheerful face [Matthew 6:17]. What might seem incredible — if it were not that all things are possible with God [Matthew 19:26] — is that she lived this way until her fiftieth year without ruining her digestion or developing a single case of colic. Sleeping on bare ground didn't damage her limbs, and the rough sackcloth she wore never made her skin foul or rough. With a sound body and an even sounder soul, she found all her delight in solitude and carved out a monk's hermitage in the heart of bustling Rome.

5. You know all this better than I do — I've learned these few details from you. You're so close to Asella that you've seen with your own eyes how her knees have hardened like a camel's from the frequency of her prayers. I can only set down what I've gathered from your accounts. She is cheerful when she's serious and serious when she's cheerful; her manner is winning but always grave, grave but always winning. Her pale face speaks of self-denial without advertising it. Her speech is silent; her silence speaks. Her pace is neither hurried nor slow. Her demeanor never changes. She ignores refinement and pays no attention to her appearance — and when she does attend to it, it's without attending. Her whole life has been so consistent that here in Rome — that capital of vain display, shameless indulgence, and idle pleasure, where humility is taken for weakness — the good praise her conduct and the bad don't dare attack it. Let widows and virgins follow her example. Let married women admire her. Let sinful women fear her. And let bishops look up to her.

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

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