Saintly Story Time: Macrina the Younger
In the dry, arid countryside of Cappadocia, a young woman walked her way along the road, slowly picking through the garbage. Occasionally, she would pause, listening intently. Those passing by would glance her way from time to time, noting her strange behavior, but otherwise ignored the woman. Macrina continued her search, ignoring the looks and stares she received from travelers on the road beside her. After several minutes, she paused, listening. It was faint, but she’d heard what she was looking for.
Quickly, Macrina jumped on top of a pile of refuse. She began to dig, hands moving aside pottery shards, animal bones, and the scraps of fabric left behind. Underneath a pile of waste, she found what she was searching for. Carefully, tenderly, she picked up the whimpering infant that had been discarded into the garbage heap beside the road. She hushed the baby gently, rocking it as she picked her way around the refuse and back towards the road. The child was grimy, dirty, and very malnourished. With tender steps, she began her journey back along the road she had come from, heading home to care for this discarded soul.
Famine is a blight in all civilizations. People went hungry, civil order devolved, and many died. In Cappadocia, some of the first to suffer the effects of famine were the children. If there were too many mouths to feed, you disposed of the mouths that provided no benefit to the betterment of the family. The part of the world Macrina called home was not alone in this, nor was it particularly unique in any way. This is just how life worked in the middling years of the fourth century. Families who could not find enough food to sustain themselves would start by removing the youngest, discarding them into wells or along roadsides. That way, the family that could work at least stood a chance at finding enough to eat. You could always make more children, but you couldn’t so easily replace the patriarch or matriarch, those from whom the family truly earned its power and influence. Macrina understood this well. The world around her, and as far back as anyone could remember, functioned on power and control. Those who were fortunate or powerful enough to impose their will imposed it, and those who could do nothing against it simply accepted their lot in life. It was just how the world worked.
But Macrina had been raised on a different story.
Her mother had taught her to love her neighbor, to care for the least of these, and to be a servant rather than a master. Macrina and her younger brothers had been raised in wealth and luxury, every opportunity had been given to them. Some of her brothers had gone to school to be philosophers, lawyers, or rhetoricians, continuing the legacy of making their family name great. Macrina had no shortage of suitors, all of them vying for her hand and her attention. Despite their best efforts, none were able to woo the enigmatic, insightful, and fiercely ascetic Macrina. She had been betrothed once, but the young man had fallen ill and passed away before they could be formally married. At first, Macrina had stayed single in memory of him. But, as the years went by, she did so for more spiritual reasons. She was told to marry again, but she stayed single for the benefit of the Kingdom she served. Rather than accept the lot society had dealt to her, Macrina had forged a different path. With her family’s vast fortunes, she had turned their countryside estate into a refuge. The poor, the hungry, the forgotten all flocked to her door because they knew they would find rest and peace.
As she walked along the road home, Macrina cradled the infant in her arms. She knew how society treated its children, knew how often they were cast aside without another thought. When one particularly bad famine had hit, Macrina had been walking home, listening to the cries of the discarded infants coming from the garbage heaps beside the city. These pitiful cries had tugged on her heartstrings, had called out to her with the voices of the faith her family had always professed. She had resolved that, if no one else would, she would care for them. It had caused a scandal in town. After all, Macrina should be ordering her servants, marrying fine suitors, enjoying the luxury her lot had given her in life. Instead, she was often seen digging in the trash, searching for those who had already been deemed worthless. The people could not fathom it, but Macrina did not care. A lady of riches, digging in the trash. The people continued to laugh, but Macrina continued to dig. Every infant saved, every child brought to her home, was a small portion of the image of God restored.
Macrina at last arrived at home. Her country estate had, many years ago, been transformed into a monastic community. People of all walks of life lived together in shared purpose, all of them dedicated to prayer and service to the poor. She handed the infant off to a community member, a woman she knew adored caring for the children rescued. As she watched them go, Macrina couldn’t help but smile, seeing the joy and tender care on the other woman’s face. Though discarded, the infant would now be cared for, nourished, and raised with all the love the community could bring to bear. Macrina cleaned her hands and prepared to return to the road. This evening, her younger brother Peter would be joining her. Together, they would continue the work they had been called to do, to love the little ones and care for the least of these.