St. Jerome’s Bad Advice to the Grieving

I have been reading a book— Jerome: His Life, Writings and Controversies, by J.N.D. Kelly. Jerome is… complex. He has done some great things, such as recognize and support the importance, especially in the Western Church, of taking Biblical languages (1st Century Greek, and ancient Hebrew) seriously in both translation and interpretation. However, in his book, Kelly summarizes a letter from Jerome to a woman named Paula. Paula was a disciple of Jerome, along with her daughter, Blesilla. Jerome felt very close to both of them. However, Blesilla died and Paula felt great grief. Quoting Kelly regarding Jerome’s letter to Paula,

Jerome, who seems to have regarded Blesilla as now belonging at least as much to himself as to Paula, was shocked by her distress, and took her to task in no uncertain terms. The letter, which he intended as a threnody, and which starts off as a eulogy of Blesilla, soon becomes a rebuke for her mother’s excessive grief, and at the same time a terrifying exposure of his own religious attitude. First, he concedes that tears have their place (did not Jesus weep for Lazarus?), but protests that his own agony is no less than Paula’s. But the Christian should be able to bear the most shattering blows with meek thankfulness, knowing that God, who controls all things, is good. Secondly, however, the dead man for whom mourning is appropriate is the sinner who has gone down to hell; Blesilla deserves congratulation, for she has passed from darkness to light to meet Christ face to face. Thirdly, Paula should recall that she is not only a mother but a Christian, and a dedicated ascetic at that. The truly Christian reaction to death was that of the heroic Melania: when she lost her husband and two of her sons in quick succession, who shed no tear but, prostrate before Christ, exclaimed with a smile, ‘Now I shall serve You, Lord, all the more readily, since You have freed me from this burden.; Finally, Paula’s grief is disgraceful to the point of sacrilege. It must be sheer torture to Blesilla, as she consorts with blessed Mary and the saints, to see her own mother behaving in a manner so displeasing to Christ.

Kelly, J.N.D., JEROME: HIS LIFE, WRITINGS, AND CONTROVERSIES (New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1975), 99.

Jerome had a position of authority over her as her discipler. As such, he was in a position to abuse. This form of abuse is often described as “spiritual abuse.” In this case, I would categorize this form of spiritual abuse as theological abuse since the method is linked to expressing a form of theology that is harmful/coercive. Here are a few things that Jerome gave as theological guidance to Paula.

#1. On the positive side, Jerome didn’t deny that Jesus did shed tears at the death of Lazarus. However, based on the broader context, it looks like this was shared as a sort of lampshading. The reason I am saying this is that in the letter, he appears to be saying that crying is bad, and that sadness is wrong, and so acknowledges the most well-known counter-argument before ignoring its ramifications later. (When I originally wrote this, I did not have the actual letter, translated into English. Now I do and so do you. Read it and decide for yourself.  LETTER 39.)

#2. Jerome seems to be saying, “I love Blesilla as much as you, and so if I am not grieving like that, neither should you.” This is pretty classic. One of the classic responses to grieving is, “I know EXACTLY how you are feeling.” This is often meant well, but does have the sting of saying, in effect— “Don’t share with me how you feel, because I already got it.” This is not a good pastoral response. First, it is not true. Jerome does NOT know what it is like to lose a daughter, and he is not in a position to figure out who is struggling more. Second, even if two people, theoretically, had the exact same amount and quality of attachment to someone who has died, that does not mean that the grief response will be (or should be) identical. God created individuals, not clones.

#3. Jerome implies that one cannot be thankful to God while grieving. Another, bad response to grieving is, “You really should be counting your blessings!” As one reads the Psalms of Lament in the Bible, one finds songs that express deep sorrow along with both thankfulness and hope. We are complex beings. Sadness and thankfulness are not mutually exclusive.

#4 . Jerome suggests that we shouldn’t really grieve because everything that happens is good, because God is good. This relates to a gripe of mine… the responsive formula— “God is good…” “All the time.” “And all the time…” “God is good.” We may say that God is loving. We may say that God is benevolent. However, when we say, “God is good” I think the vagueness of the term requires us to ask the perspective. From a phenomenological or anthropocentric viewpoint, God is NOT always good. That is the point of the Lament Psalms, as well as some of the various prophetic complaints to God in the Old Testament (particularly). We learn and grow through dealing with the challenge that “God is good… but NOT all the time. Not all the time, but God is STILL good.” But even if God is good all the time (on all levels of interpretation), God created us with deep attachments. We were designed to hurt from loss. Grieving doesn’t undermine this. In fact, one could even argue that grieving is a God-given gift to help us deal with deep loss.

5. Jerome states that Blesilla is in a better place so we should be celebrating this. I know some Christians like to talk about funerals as “Celebrating Life” rather than seen as memorializing one lost to death. I don’t suppose there is anything wrong with this. However, grief is not based on where the person is at but where the griever is with respect to the other. Suppose a cherished family heirloom is stolen in a house break-in, and you are sorrowing. If a well-meaning neighbor sought to comfort you that perhaps it has now drifted into the hands of someone who will take care of it better than you, I think you would be justified in questioning your neighbor’s mental fitness. Your sorrow is based on the personal and familial loss and nothing to do with it’s new state. When we lose a loved one, we may not grieve as those who have no hope, but we still grieve… and should grieve.

6. Jerome argues that a true Christian reaction is to find joy in the loss. He uses the example of Melania, a Roman Christian who lost husband and two sons and then left for Palestine to found a monastery. The story of her thanking God (seemingly) because He took away impediments to her serving Him, sounds pretty monstrous. I assume the reality is more complex, but if one takes it as Jerome presented it, it suggests an attitude about family and relationships that appears to be far from a Christian ideal.

7. Jerome claims to read Blesilla’s mind in heaven and thinking that she would be “tortured” to see Paula grieving. This is tied to a well-known response to the grieving that, “_________ would not want you to grieve.” Of course, these respondents have no idea what the dead want. Most commonly, what is really meant is “I have gotten tired of seeing you grieving.”

8. Jerome finally claims that Paula’s grieving displeases God. This is just a variation of the previous argument with “God doesn’t want to see you grieve.” Essentially, grieving is seen as a sin by Jerome. Why would we assume this of God? Rather, this expresses the theological perspective of Jerome and it is pretty abusive.

Of course, this theology comes partly from the times he is in. Starting in the second century there was a gradual growth of asceticism in Christianity. Asceticism is a religious perspective and series of behaviors that exist across many different religions. Denial of physical pleasures, and sometimes even physical needs, can lead to feelings of closeness to the divine, and it certainly is understandable that rejecting material things makes one feel that one is uniquely embracing ‘heavenly’ things. There is nothing inherently ascetic in Judaism or Christianity. Despite this, both have sprung ascetic movements. A presbyter (according to Tertullian) wrote an apocryphal work ascribed to St. Paul called “The Acts of Paul and Thecla.” It was written a bit before 160AD. It espouses chastity/virginity in greatly glowing terms. It shows that this aspect of asceticism was already idealized in the 2nd century. This could have come over from ascetic Jewish groups like the Essenes. However, Greek dualism of material versus spiritual certainly could be seen as a source. Asceticism had a big boost in the 4th century with the moral decline of the church as it went from a persecuted remnant to a popular and governmentally supported faith. Monks and Anchorites began to spring up espousing ascetic beliefs as an ideal form of Christianity. With this perspective, phrases in the Bible such as “absence from the body means presence with the Lord” or “Deny thyself and take up thy cross” can be taken to extremes where normal human emotions and desires are seen as being in conflict with God (who actually designed us that way).

Of course, I am not suggesting that everything we want to do is good. However, the Great Commandment makes it clear that loving God is not in competitiion with loving others. We love God AND others, and we express our love for others in some small way as a response to God’s love for us.

Caring about others is not inherently at odds to loving God. While God may be our highest love, grieving does not draw that love into question. It shows that we do, indeed, love.

I feel like this letter from Jerome expresses a certain theological perspective that is not only not sound, but is also harmful. It reminds me of an article I am reading now that tries to make the argument that the the election of God is immune from the charge of unfairness because of how deeply our sin goes against God’s holiness. I don’t quite see that. If I walk up to five people and give one of them a million dollars (a completely fanciful story here) t

Perhaps it is better not to be too dogmatic with someone struggling. Questions may be better than answers. So, with that in mind, I will say that these are my thoughts and hope you will meditate on this and decide for yourself.

3 thoughts on “St. Jerome’s Bad Advice to the Grieving

  1. Pingback: Bad Historical Advice on Grief | Bukal Life Care

  2. Marge's avatar Marge

    Is the author of this Catholic? God is definitely always good. Anything that happens that is not good is a result of a sinful world that has turned from the Will of God who is Goodness Himself. Also, this is some wild judgemental hate for Saint Jerome. He definitely wasn’t being “abusive”. He is offering the very real comfort that this woman’s daughter who he views as a foster daughter of his own is in Heaven. Isn’t this the goal of all of us? Jerome and this woman were good friends. I’m sure she was aware of his personality and very literal way of viewing the world. I think it is probable that she experienced great consolation in his words.

    1. Marge, thanks for your comments. The writer I quoted, J.N.D. Kelly, was Church of England, not Roman Catholic. That of course can be a source of bias… for me as well (I am neither Roman Catholic nor Church of England). I would recommend reading the English translation of Jerome’s letter yourself and decide. I did place a link to it in the post. It is quite possible that you are correct that Paula would find it comforting. (New Advent seems to similarly take a rather hopeful view of the letter.) It is a personal letter, not a letter written for the Church. As such, it is possible that this relationship justifies the language. However, my goal was to use an example from history of bad advice in grief. Today many people will say things that are generally hurtful to the grieving. Could such “hurtful language” help in a specific circumstance? Certainly.

      I am involved in the Clinical Pastoral Movement and there are a lot of Catholic theologians in that movement and I work with a lot of Catholic priests and chaplains in training and ministry. I feel comfortable in saying that pretty much all of them would describe that letter as bad advice generally for the grieving— although they certainly might agree with you that it could have been helpful in the specific interaction with Paula.

      For me, I believe that saint, prophet, or apostle, no one short of Christ is a perfect example. For me St. Jerome is a complex character. His work in ancient languages and in translating the Vulgate make him top tier in his contributions to the Church. In terms of relationships, he is far more complex, being a difficult person in many ways… even within the Church.

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