In the age of social media influencers, it’s refreshing to turn our gaze to a woman whose influence shaped not fleeting trends but the foundations of Christian thought. Meet St. Macrina the Younger, a heroine of fourth-century Cappadocia. She was the firstborn in a family that produced more bishops and saints than most of us have Twitter followers.

Consider this family reunion: Grandmother St. Macrina the Elder, who might have studied under St. Gregory the Wonderworker (a student of Origen himself). Parents St. Basil the Elder and St. Emmelia, who managed to raise at least five of their 10 children to sainthood (a feat that should qualify them for immediate canonization in any era). And those children are the all-star lineup of siblings: St. Basil the Great, St. Naucratius, St. Gregory of Nyssa, and St. Peter of Sebaste.

One imagines the dinner table conversations were less about the latest chariot races and more about the finer points of Trinitarian theology.

But it’s Macrina who stands out today among this saintly crowd. While her brothers were out conquering the theological world, Macrina was holding down the fort, quite literally. She turned the family estate into a monastery and played a significant role in her brothers’ education. She was a scholar, a spiritual director, a family matriarch and a theological powerhouse — and she did it all without leaving her family’s estate.

It is no surprise that St. John Henry Newman describes this family as a “nursery of bishops and saints.”

In The Life of Macrina, written by her brother Gregory of Nyssa, we are told of how Macrina was devoted to studying Scripture. He says that Macrina was taught primarily through the Scriptures and always kept the Psalter with her. When she was coming of age, she was betrothed to a young man who suddenly died, and she then persuaded her parents to let her remain a virgin so that she could dedicate her life more completely to Christ.

There is an episode in the Life that is easy to imagine making an impression on a younger brother.

Basil the Great, the second child, comes home from Athens after studying and becoming an accomplished rhetorician (lawyer). Gregory tells us that Basil was puffed up with pride and thought he was more skilled than the local leaders from his hometown. Macrina quickly humbled him; in what way, he did not say. But it was Macrina who urged Basil to give up the glories of the world and pursue philosophy instead — philosophy, in this case, being the love of divine wisdom.

At this, Basil renounced personal gain — he left the rat race and hopped off the corporate ladder, so to speak — and spent his life pursuing virtue. Basil would go on to be a force for the pro-Nicene cause, defending the truth of the Trinity. He also wrote an ascetical rule that St. Benedict of Norcia recommended as spiritual reading that will lead one “to the very heights of perfection” — something that was also probably inspired by his sister’s strict ascetical life.

The pursuit of divine wisdom was a central theme in Macrina’s life all the way until her death. In the biography, Gregory tells us that as he was leaving a council at Antioch, he resolved to visit his sister after not seeing her for eight years. When he arrived back home in Cappadocia, he found Macrina on her deathbed. There, they prayed, glorified God, and dialogued about the nature of the soul and the resurrection. Gregory wrote this conversation down and a translation is published by St. Vladimir Seminary Press, but it is also available on New Advent.

A couple of days after this exchange between Gregory and Macrina, Macrina prayed these words in preparation for her death:

Thou, O Lord, hast freed us from the fear of death. Thou hast made the end of this life the beginning to us of true life. Thou for a season restest our bodies in sleep and awakest them again at the last trump. Thou givest our earth, which Thou hast fashioned with Thy hands, to the earth to keep in safety. One day Thou wilt take again what Thou hast given, transfiguring with immortality and grace our mortal and unsightly remains.

Thou hast saved us from the curse and from sin, having become both for our sakes. Thou hast broken the heads of the dragon who had seized us with his jaws, in the yawning gulf of disobedience. Thou hast shown us the way of resurrection, having broken the gates of hell, and brought to naught him who had the power of death — the devil. Thou hast given a sign to those that fear Thee in the symbol of the Holy Cross, to destroy the adversary and save our life.

O God eternal, to Whom I have been attached from my mother’s womb, Whom my soul has loved with all its strength, to Whom I have dedicated both my flesh and my soul from my youth up until now — do Thou give me an angel of light to conduct me to the place of refreshment, where is the water of rest, in the bosom of the holy Fathers. Thou that didst break the flaming sword and didst restore to Paradise the man that was crucified with Thee and implored Thy mercies, remember me, too, in Thy kingdom; because I, too, was crucified with Thee, having nailed my flesh to the cross for fear of Thee, and of Thy judgments have I been afraid.

Let not the terrible chasm separate me from Thy elect. Nor let the Slanderer stand against me in the way; nor let my sin be found before Thy eyes, if in anything I have sinned in word or deed or thought, led astray by the weakness of our nature.

O Thou Who hast power on earth to forgive sins, forgive me, that I may be refreshed and may be found before Thee when I put off my body, without defilement on my soul. But may my soul be received into Thy hands spotless and undefiled, as an offering before Thee.

The prayer’s clear articulation of the faith and deep allusion to Scripture are beautiful. Gregory tells us that after she said these words, she lost her voice, but she continued praying throughout the day, moving her lips without any sound until she died.

Her final prayer is a masterclass in scriptural allusion and doctrinal precision. It’s as if, at the very end, she wanted to remind her learned brother one last time who the real theologian in the family was. Likewise, her words should urge us, as she did her brother Basil, to forsake this temporal and worldly glories for the love of God instead.