St. Jerome: Knight of Sacred Scripture

History rightly remembers St. Jerome (c.347-420) for compiling the Vulgate, the all-Latin edition of the Bible. In this endeavor that took decades, Jerome was the first to insist on translating the Old Testament directly from the original Hebrew, rather than from the Greek Septuagint, the preferred edition of the Latin West. In fact, St. Augustine wrote to persuade Jerome from his task, arguing that “I cannot sufficiently express my wonder that anything should at this date be found in the Hebrew manuscripts which escaped so many translators [of the Septuagint] perfectly acquainted with the language.” Many centuries passed before Jerome’s position was vindicated.

But Jerome was not merely a translator. He revered the Word of God and immersed himself in it so deeply that, in his other writings, he wielded the Scriptures as a champion knight would a flashing sword: with power and finesse, with vigor and precision, with style and creativity.

Jerome’s 123 surviving letters best showcase his Scriptural swordsmanship. These letters, which resemble the modern essay in their length and style, concern multiple themes. Some are specifically exegetical, in which he offers explanations on Biblical books and themes. Others concern doctrinal issues and explode as fiery polemics. Still others are exhortations, congratulations, and reproaches, all written according to established epistolary styles of the ancient world. Finally, there are his most celebrated letters, the consolations, where he offers the wisdom of the Scriptures to comfort the bereaved.

These passionate letters of consolation show a less prominent side of Jerome: that of spiritual father imbued with genuine affection for his friends in mourning. At the same time, he reveals his mastery of literary prose, a power he does not hesitate to claim for himself on certain occasions. These letters are now available together for the first time in English in a volume entitled Jerome’s Tears: Letters to Friends in Mourning.

“I cannot praise the mysteries of Scripture enough,” Jerome writes as he tries to console Paula after the death of her daughter, “and we ought to wonder at the divine purpose expressed in simple words.” Jerome regularly contrasts his style of consolation with that of the Greek pagans, whose letters of this genre consisted of four parts: introduction, lamentation, consolation of the living, and eulogy for the deceased. Jerome, though generally keeping this pattern, asserts his style—and the Word of God—as superior: “Therefore,” he writes to Julian, “we despise both the charm of the rhetorical arts [of the Greeks] and the beauty of a silly and pleasing eloquence, so we take refuge in the seriousness of the holy Scriptures, where true medicine for wounds and certain remedies for grief are found.”

Jerome offers Christ’s triumph over death as the most powerful medicine of consolation, and he dispenses it from both the Old and the New Testaments. His soothing words to Theodora after the sudden death of her husband serve as a paradigmatic example:

But we have consolation, since death is silenced by the word of the Lord. It is written, “O Death, where are your plagues? O Sheol, where is your destruction?” and then continues, “the wind of the Lord shall come, rising from the wilderness; and his fountain shall dry up, his spring shall be parched” (Hos. 13:14–15). For “there shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots” (Isa. 11:1). He says in the Song of Solomon, “I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys” (2:1). The destruction of death is our rose. Christ died so that death may die by His death.

Jerome frequently stacks multiple citations from Scripture in a row to make a greater impact, such as in his letter to Bishop Heliodorus on the death of his nephew, Nepotian:

What, therefore, shall I do? Shall I join my tears with yours? But the apostle Paul prevents us, as he calls the Christian dead sleeping. The Lord says in the Gospel, “The child is not dead but sleeping” (Mark 5:39). Lazarus also, because he had fallen asleep, was raised up. Let me rejoice and be glad “for his soul was pleasing to the Lord, therefore He took him quickly from the midst of wickedness” (Wisd. 4:14).

Aside from the sheer force of the sacred allusions, the multiple attestations serve another purpose. Whereas we moderns tend to use Scripture to support our theological arguments, for Jerome, Scripture is the argument. That is, it is the authority beyond which little or nothing needs to be said. Deus locutus est. Causa finita est. His final sentences to Oceanus on the death of his friend Fabiola drive this home:

She who had fallen in with robbers was carried back on the shoulders of Christ. “In my Father’s house are many rooms” (John 14:2). “Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more” (Rom. 5:20). “Her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much” (Luke 7:47).

Lastly, Jerome brings to life so many biblical heroes with whom the bereaved can find common cause. In one of his most moving passages, Jerome puts words on the lips of Paula’s deceased daughter, who implores her mother from heaven to cease her mourning:

Do you think that I am alone? I have in your place Mary, the mother of the Lord. Here I see many whom I did not know before. O how much greater is this heavenly company! I am with Anna, the prophetess in Luke’s Gospel. May you rejoice even more, as…I have obtained the reward of many years of labor.

As we rightly celebrate Jerome’s translation of the Bible, we must be mindful that translation is not an end in itself. It is a means to an end, in this case, to a deeper encounter with the Lord through His Word. Jerome’s magnificent letters teach us that the power of Scripture is inexhaustible, and it speaks to us poignantly in joy and sorrow, youth and old age, life and death.