Early in my Christian life I had to come to terms with the sad fact that I lacked a certain quality that might make me effective in communication. It seems that the lack of this quality “turned people off” when discussing doctrine amongst friends and witnessing to the lost. I counted this as a fault and worked through prayer, study, and under guidance to rid myself of the fault. Over a period of years I was able to approach conversations in a manner better received that, as far as I’m concerned, had lost a lot of depth and forced me to often miss the point I was trying to make.
As you may have guessed from past interactions with me the quality I lacked was tact. I never believed myself to be insulting, but my approach insulted many. I never sought to harm, but hurt that seemed unreasonable to me became commonplace. It is here that now find fault, no longer in myself, but in the responses to my arguments. And yet, I still question my approach constantly. I write and edit. I edit and reread. I reread and edit almost everything before saving it, hitting send, or publishing it to the internet.
That, though, is not the point of this post, but background.
I love church history. I read, I read, and more than that, I read church history. From the Early Church Fathers to the Ante-Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers; from the greats of the middle age through the Reformation to modern times I study the history of the body of Christ that I dearly love. I love reading source works so much that I often get lost in the reading. I start to imagine the authors of the letters and books I read in their historical setting. I picture their countenance, their posture, and I try to “interact” with their personalities. I know that I don’t truly know these early bearers of the banner of the faith, but when I read them I can’t help but know them in a sense. In my “interactions” I have developed “friends” and favorites in these long past brothers and I have grown to love some of them in a similar fashion to how I love my closest friends.
Some I respect, though I know that I would have trouble “getting along.” The quiet repose of John Calvin or the long winded rhetoric of Thomas Aquinas would leave me wanting in conversation. Though I adore and respect Aquinas and Calvin for their learning and teaching and give the utmost thanks for their faithfulness, I would be at once intimidated and bored in conversation with either, I think.
Oh, but Jerome. Now there is a different story. Don’t misunderstand me, please. I would disagree with Jerome on a number of points of doctrine. We would not see eye to eye on a number of things (the use of icons, prayer to the dead, the perpetual virginity of Mary). He is not my favorite theologian of his contemporaries. That honor (for what little it’s worth) belongs to Augustine and Athanasius. But if there is one church Father in whom I can “see myself”; if there is one man from the early history of the church with whom I can “interact” with excitement and a smile, it is Jerome. God may have lifted up men to be greater teachers, more soundly learned in all points of doctrine, but there are none I love more than Jerome.
And why should I love Jerome? Because it is his writings that make me laugh while teaching me what a part of the early church understood. It is his letters that I must finish upon starting, as if the man himself has engaged me in compelling conversation or has sought my input to an argument. Most especially, though, it is Jerome who lacks where I lack, possibly greater than I lack. Yet Jerome is exceeded by no one I know at tempering his complete tactlessness with wonderful grace, love, and tactlessness thinly veiled with tact. Christianity pours from his words. Love for his brothers and the body of Christ flows through his pen, while anger at error and contempt for stupidity runs from the same quill.
Jerome is, as far as I’m concerned, a master of prose and an example of levity from a faithful man. He is not balanced, no. Jerome always tips towards his opinion and defers rarely, yet he is level in his dealings with friends. He is honest and, I expect, just. He was a good friend it seemed. Augustine loved Jerome and, although their differences are obvious in their letters, they both longed to spend their days at each other’s side to learn from one another.
If iron sharpens iron, Jerome wielded the heaviest of the blacksmith's mallets...
Very few days have elapsed since the holy brethren of Rome sent to me the treatises of a certain Jovinian with the request that I would reply to the follies contained in them, and would crush with evangelical and apostolic vigour the Epicurus of Christianity. I read but could not in the least comprehend them. I began therefore to give them closer attention, and to thoroughly sift not only words and sentences, but almost every single syllable; for I wished first to ascertain his meaning, and then to approve, or refute what he had said. But the style is so barbarous, and the language so vile and such a heap of blunders, that I could neither understand what he was talking about, nor by what arguments he was trying to prove his points. At one moment he is all bombast, at another he grovels: from time to time he lifts himself up, and then like a wounded snake finds his own effort too much for him. Not satisfied with the language of men, he attempts something loftier. (Against Jovinianus)
Shall Vigilantius the live dog be better than Paul the dead lion? I should be right in saying so after Ecclesiastes, if I admitted that Paul is dead in spirit. The truth is that the saints are not called dead, but are said to be asleep. Wherefore Lazarus, who was about to rise again, is said to have slept. And the Apostle forbids the Thessalonians to be sorry for those who were asleep. As for you, when wide awake you are asleep, and asleep when you write, and you bring before me an apocryphal book which, under the name of Esdras, is read by you and those of your feather, and in this book it is written that after death no one dares pray for others. I have never read the book: for what need is there to take up what the Church does not receive? (Against Vigilantius)
Wherefore cease to worry me and to overwhelm me with your scrolls. Spare at least your money with which you hire secretaries and copyists, employing the same persons to write for you and to applaud you. Possibly their praise is due to the fact that they make a profit out of writing for you. If you wish to exercise your mind, hand yourself over to the teachers of grammar and rhetoric, learn logic, have yourself instructed in the schools of the philosophers; and when you have learned all these things you will perhaps begin to hold your tongue. And yet I am acting foolishly in seeking teachers for one who is competent to teach everyone, and in trying to limit the utterance of one who does not know how to speak yet cannot remain silent. The old Greek proverb is quite true A lyre is of no use to an ass. For my part I imagine that even your name was given you out of contrariety. For your whole mind slumbers and you actually snore, so profound is the sleep— or rather the lethargy— in which you are plunged. (to Vigilantius)
...he shaped the blade with a strong chisel...
Although the style and the method of argument appeared to be yours, I must frankly confess to your Excellency that I did not think it right to assume without examination the authenticity of a letter of which I had only seen copies, lest perchance, if offended by my reply, you should with justice complain that it was my duty first to have made sure that you were the author, and only after that was ascertained, to address you in reply. Another reason for my delay was the protracted illness of the pious and venerable Paula. For, while occupied long in attending upon her in severe illness, I had almost forgotten your letter, or more correctly, the letter written in your name, remembering the verse, Like music in the day of mourning is an unseasonable discourse (Sirach 22:6). Therefore, if it is your letter, write me frankly that it is so, or send me a more accurate copy, in order that without any passionate rancour we may devote ourselves to discuss scriptural truth; and I may either correct my own mistake, or show that another has without good reason found fault with me... Remember me, holy and venerable father. See how sincerely I love you, in that I am unwilling, even when challenged, to reply, and refuse to believe you to be the author of that which in another I would sharply rebuke. Our brother Communis sends his respectful salutation.2 (To Augustine, Letter 681)
Wherefore, as I have already written, either send me the identical letter in question subscribed with your own hand, or desist from annoying an old man, who seeks retirement in his monastic cell. If you wish to exercise or display your learning, choose as your antagonists, young, eloquent, and illustrious men, of whom it is said that many are found in Rome, who may be neither unable nor afraid to meet you, and to enter the lists with a bishop in debates concerning the Sacred Scriptures. As for me, a soldier once, but a retired veteran now, it becomes me rather to applaud the victories won by you and others, than with my worn-out body to take part in the conflict; beware lest, if you persist in demanding a reply, I call to mind the history of the way in which Quintus Maximus by his patience defeated Hannibal, who was, in the pride of youth, confident of success. (To Augustine, Letter 721)
...and honed the edge with the finest of files...
May Christ, our almighty God, preserve you safe, and not unmindful of me, my lord truly holy, and most blessed father. If you have read my commentary on Jonah, I think you will not recur to the ridiculous gourd-debate3. If, moreover, the friend who first assaulted me with his sword has been driven back by my pen, I rely upon your good feeling and equity to lay blame on the one who brought, and not on the one who repelled, the accusation. Let us, if you please, exercise ourselves in the field of Scripture without wounding each other. (To Augustine Letter 81)
Now, unless I am mistaken, I have already sent you ten letters, affectionate and earnest, while you have not deigned to give me even a single line. The Lord speaks to His servants, but you, my brother servant, refuse to speak to me. Believe me, if reserve did not check my pen, I could show my annoyance in such invective that you would have to reply— even though it might be in anger. But since anger is human, and a Christian must not act injuriously, I fall back once more on entreaty, and beg you to love one who loves you, and to write to him as a servant should to his fellow-servant. Farewell in the Lord. (To Antony, Monk)
Others may praise you if they will, and celebrate your victories over the devil. They may eulogize you for the smiling face with which you bore the loss of your daughters, or for the resolution with which, forty days after they fell asleep, you exchanged your mourning for a white robe to attend the dedication of a martyr's bones; unconcerned for a bereavement which was the concern of the whole city, and anxious only to share in a martyr's triumph. Nay, say they, when you bore your wife to burial, it was not as one dead but as one setting forth on a journey. But I shall not deceive you with flattering words or take the ground from under your feet with slippery praises. Rather will I say what it is good for you to hear: My son, if you come to serve the Lord, prepare your soul for temptation, and when you shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, I am an unprofitable servant; I have done that which was my duty to do. Say to God: the children that you have taken from me were Your own gift. The hand-maiden that You have taken to Yourself Thou also lent to me for a season to be my solace. I am not aggrieved that You have taken her back, but thankful rather that You have previously given her to me. (To Julian)
I find no fault in Jerome's approach. He unabashedly spoke the truth as he knew it in love. In his tactlessness Jerome unquestionably displayed a love for the church and a desire for truth that is hard to equal. In his vitriol, he destroyed his opponents with anger, reason, and love. And, greater still, with calm and caring Jerome could draw gracefulness onto a letter to convince a brother of his error and comfort his pain.
I hope one day to be able to say the same of myself.
1 This is an odd exchange between Augustine and Jerome. Try picturing the cause of the exchange, it may help in appreciating Jerome's approach. Augustine had written a book which contained in it an excerpt against a teaching of Jerome. Augustine, however, never mentioned Jerome by name. The excerpt made its way to Jerome. Jerome mentioned it in a letter to Augustine. Augustine, being technically honest, told Jerome he never spoke against him, but asked him to answer the accusation nonetheless. Jerome knew Augustine was the author, but refused to accuse him and refused to answer the accusation unless Augustine admitted to authorship. Jerome never received the admission and Augustine may have never received an answer unless the dispute was over the gourd debate (see note 3).
2 Without a doubt my favorite conclusion to a letter by Jerome. Knowing that Augustine is the author of the accusation he makes sure that Augustine understands through a veiled threat of harsh rebuke. Then ends with the out of place, "and our mutual friend says, 'hi.'" Makes me smile every time.
3 Jerome intimates the "ridiculous gourd debate" in Chapter 3 of this letter to Augustine.
And so this blog has not yet ended, but it is no more as I originally intended. Now, I will use this blog solely for the purpose of sharing studies and typing out long dissertations. However, I will direct all discussion to the new site (should discussion start). 
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