Letter 53: Jerome urges Paulinus, bishop of Nola, (for whom see Letter LVIII.) to make a diligent study of the Scriptures and to this end reminds him of the zeal for learning displayed not only by the wisest of the pagans but also by the apostle Paul. Then going through the two Testaments in detail he describes the contents of the several books and the les...

JeromePaulinus of Nola|c. 387 AD|jerome
barbarian invasiondiplomaticeducation booksfamine plaguefriendshipgrief deathillnessimperial politicsmonasticismproperty economicsslavery captivitytravel mobilitywomen
Barbarian peoples/invasions; Theological controversy; Imperial politics
From: Jerome, priest and scholar in Bethlehem
To: Paulinus of Nola, bishop and ascetic
Date: ~394 AD
Context: Jerome urges Paulinus to devote himself to serious Scripture study, using a magnificent catalogue of how the greatest pagan minds traveled the world in pursuit of learning — then walks through every book of the Bible.

Paulinus,

Our brother Ambrose, along with your generous gifts, has delivered to me a most delightful letter — one which, though it comes at the beginning of our friendship, carries the assurance of tested loyalty and long acquaintance. A true friendship cemented by Christ himself does not depend on material gifts, physical presence, or insincere flattery. It depends on a shared fear of God and a common devotion to the study of Scripture.

We read in ancient accounts that men crossed provinces, seas, and foreign peoples simply to see face to face those they knew only from books. Pythagoras visited the prophets of Memphis. Plato went to Egypt, then to Archytas of Tarentum, then explored the coast of southern Italy — and this powerful Athenian master, whose lectures made the Academy ring, became both pilgrim and pupil, choosing modestly to learn from others rather than arrogantly to teach. His lifelong pursuit of learning eventually led to his capture by pirates who sold him into slavery. Even in chains, he remained a philosopher — and was greater than the man who bought him.

Noblemen traveled from the remotest parts of Spain and Gaul to Rome, drawn not by the city itself but by the fame of a single writer, Livy — whose eloquence flowed like a fountain of milk. Apollonius of Tyana crossed Persia, the Caucasus, Scythia, and all of India, seeking wisdom wherever it could be found. Everywhere he went, he found something to learn; and because he was always traveling to new places, he became constantly wiser.

If pagans pursued human wisdom with such dedication — crossing continents, risking their lives, enduring slavery — what excuse do we have for neglecting the wisdom of God, which is available to us in our own hands? What Pythagoras sought in Memphis, what Plato sought in Egypt, what Apollonius sought in India — all of it, and infinitely more, is contained in the Scriptures.

Let me walk you through them briefly.

Genesis teaches us the creation of the world, the origin of the human race, the division of nations, and the beginnings of the people of Israel. Exodus gives us the law. Leviticus, the priestly code. Numbers, the long march through the wilderness. Deuteronomy, Moses's farewell — a second law, a summing-up of everything before. Job is a drama of human suffering and divine wisdom, composed in a style that ranges from prose to the sublimest poetry. The Psalms are our Christian Horace, our Pindar — hymns to the Creator on the ten-stringed lyre. Proverbs teaches ethics. Ecclesiastes warns us that all beneath the sun is vanity. The Song of Songs is a wedding hymn for the soul's union with God — and anyone who reads it as mere love poetry has understood nothing.

Isaiah is not so much a prophet as an evangelist — so clearly does he describe the coming of Christ that you would think he was narrating history rather than foretelling it. Jeremiah is the prophet of tears. Ezekiel's visions — the wheels within wheels, the valley of dry bones — challenge the boldest interpreters. Daniel's prophecies map the rise and fall of empires from Babylon to Rome with such precision that pagan critics have accused the book of being a forgery written after the fact.

The twelve Minor Prophets are a treasury in miniature. Hosea's broken marriage is a parable of God's fidelity to an unfaithful people. Joel's locusts prefigure the coming judgment. Amos, the shepherd of Tekoa, thunders against the rich. Jonah prefigures the resurrection — three days in the belly of the great fish. Micah foretells Bethlehem. Habakkuk stands upon his watchtower and strains to see what God will do.

As for the New Testament: the four Gospels are the Lord's quadriga — his four-horsed chariot — rushing through the world. Paul's epistles are so densely packed with meaning that every word is a thunderclap. And the Apocalypse of John contains as many mysteries as it does words.

Now, brother: you have renounced the world's wealth, and you have done it magnificently. But do not suppose that by giving away your money you have given away your obligation. The easy part is done. Wealth, once surrendered, is gone. But the hard work remains: the daily study of Scripture, the disciplined life of the mind, the long labor of becoming wise in the things of God.

Do not read Scripture as you would read a novel — skimming for entertainment. Read it as a miner digs for gold, as a diver searches for pearls. Every sentence has its depths. What seems plain on the surface conceals treasures underneath. The man who has given himself entirely to God has given Him everything at once. The apostles left only boats and nets [Matthew 4:18-22]. The widow cast in only two copper coins [Mark 12:41-44]. Yet they will be ranked above Croesus and all his wealth. One truth settles everything: the man who remembers daily that he must die will never cling to anything this world can offer.

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

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