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Religion in its broadest sense is the fact that everyone has at least one god which they worship through their daily actions. Augustine expands this to include that which we believe, hope for, and love, which thus includes chronology past (believe), present (love), and future (hope for). My formulation assumes all three, but having them a bit more explicit is helpful.
So what are we to believe? Who are we to love? What are we to hope for? Augustine lays it all out, both in philosophical and anti-philosophical ways. For the former, he elaborates on his conception of Evil being parasitic on Good and thus not existing in the strictest sense; for him, Good is That Which Exists (since existence comes from God and God always has existed, therefore all derivative existence is also good), and Evil is that which detracts from Good, who is the fullness of existence. Philosophically speaking, Good is substance while Evil is accident. All of this might be surprising for people who only know Augustine as the main proponent of Original Sin, but I think it provides a nice counterweight to Original Sin, helpfully preventing us from falling into body-hating gnosticism. This is one of the many places where Augustine tempers that which could run away into extremism. Another example: "Now what shall I say of love? Without it, faith profits nothing; and in its absence, hope cannot exist...And so the Apostle Paul approves and commends the 'faith that worketh by love;' and this certainly cannot exist without hope. Wherefore there is no love without hope, no hope without love, and neither love nor hope without faith."
For the anti-philosophical side of his argument, Augustine mercifully releases the average person from needing to do their own philosophical inquiry. Not only are most people uninterested or unprepared for such deep dives, but faith is the first step, the thing required before we can even do any philosophy. Though I don't think he uses the exact phrase, this echoes his notion of n "Credo ut intelligam"n, or "I believe in order to understand." Trying to philosophically arrive at our starting assumptions assumes an antecedent starting assumption, namely that we can arrive at any starting assumptions rationally. No matter how much we want our worldviews to be philosophically airtight (whatever that means), they can never be: they must start somewhere, which in essence means they must start with some sort of unprovable faith.
Augustine dares to claim that this does not mean we can't know anything, nor have any certainty, as philosophers even back then regularly asserted. Below is how he approaches things:
...for all things, as they assert, are either unknown or uncertain. Now I wrote three volumes shortly after my conversion, to remove out of my way the objections which lie, as it were, on the very threshold of faith. And assuredly it was necessary at the very outset to remove this utter despair of reaching truth, which seems to be strengthened by the arguments of these philosophers. Now in their eyes every error is regarded as a sin, and they think that error can only be avoided by entirely suspending belief. For they say that the man who assents to what is uncertain falls into error; and they strive by the most acute, but most audacious arguments, to show that, even though a man’s opinion should by chance be true, yet that there is no certainty of its truth, owing to the impossibility of distinguishing truth from falsehood. But with us, “the just shall live by faith.”
...
But I am not sure whether one ought to argue with men who not only do not know that there is an eternal life before them, but do not know whether they are living at the present moment; nay, say that they do not know what it is impossible they can be ignorant of. For it is impossible that any one should be ignorant that he is alive...
The selfsame men who set up as a god their search for absolute philosophical/scientific truths must of necessity make absurd, obviously untrue statements, such as their conclusion that they can't even be sure they themselves exist. It seems that things alone and taken to extremes are the cause of folly: as with logos sans ethos and pathos, so also with faith without love or hope. In a way this echoes my lamenting of "scientia sine sapientia," knowledge without wisdom, which is so common today.
Even back in Augustine's day, we had the same problems. Ecclesiastes really is right: there's nothing new under the sun. Every time we think we've hit on something new, it has existed before, and it will exist again. All things are wearisome.
For example, Augustine brings up Kant's categorical imperative: "The question is this: whether at any time it can become the duty of a good man to tell a lie?" The conclusion he comes to is that yes it is always a sin to lie, but the amount of blame varies widely depending on your level of ignorance and your intentions. He gives an interesting example when he was accidentally told the wrong directions to get somewhere, but it actually saved his life, because he avoided some bandits on the road he was supposed to travel.
Another example which hits closer to home:
Whence also the expression in Genesis: “The cry of Sodom and Gomorrah is great,” because in these cities crimes were not only not punished, but were openly committed, as if under the protection of the law. And so in our own times: many forms of sin, though not just the same as those of Sodom and Gomorrah, are now so openly and habitually practised, that not only dare we not ex-communicate a layman, we dare not even degrade a clergyman, for the commission of them... “Woe to the sins of men! for it is only when we are not accustomed to them that we shrink from them: when once we are accustomed to them, though the blood of the Son of God was poured out to wash them away, though they are so great that the kingdom of God is wholly shut against them, constant familiarity leads to the toleration of them all, and habitual toleration leads to the practice of many of them. And grant, O Lord, that we may not come to practise all that we have not the power to hinder.”
Contemporary examples are nearly too numerous to comment on. As I've theorized elsewhere, there's never a net increase or decrease in taboos, only a shifting of which ones go in and out of vogue. It's the same with sins that we put up with. We're in an age where "justice," whatever that means, is righteously upheld as an important virtue, but myriad other issues are left in the mud. I remember the birth pains of 2014 when the gay marriage issue burst into the public discourse. Overnight everyone became an expert in Jewish law and the various relevant scriptures. Something which had never existed in the history of the world (gay marriage) was suddenly not only debatable, but had such momentum behind it that those who knew which way the wind blew got behind it. The same happened with the trans debate in the last couple years, but here it was so abbreviated that there was no debate: almost instantaneously, like God's own creation, people said it and it was so.
Despite all the "changes" happening today, none of this is really new. All of us know what is right and wrong, and if we claim we don't, we at the very least know what is selfish versus selfless, in other words what is Godly (exalts God) versus godless (makes us a god). There's really no excuse for any of us ever. I think Augustine might be too lenient when he argues there are either sins of ignorance or sins of not performing the duty we know. I guess I'm more Kierkegaardian. For even pre-literate children know what is right and wrong, you can see it in their eyes when they do something mischevious, when they think they can get away with evil, and when they get caught in their evil (their eyes immediately well up with tears).
We can certainly debate the specifics of sin, but we need not get so hung up on distracting trends. Augustine spills considerable ink over the Antinomian dilemma, namely "Christians" who professes faith in God but who regularly act in absolute contradiction to that faith. To sum it all up, James already covered this: that profession is not faith, but rather a mockery of faith. Some try to use the obscure passage about "passing through fire" to argue that these people will just go to purgatory for a while, but Augustine is right to differentiate that that passage speaks of having Christ as their foundation, while the "Christian-in-name-only" person doesn't even have Christ as their foundation, as James points out. Faith without a change in actions is dead, i.e. is not faith. In other words, if you claim to hold Christian faith but are never faced with moral dilemmas, never have had to deny yourself, spoiler alert, you're not a Christian.
Building off of this discussion, I do find it shocking how us Protestants have run so far in the direction of the Solas that we have completely done away with and actively shun any sort of alms giving or other propitiation. Though yes, we Protestants follow the letter of scripture and say that such things are not "required" before we can be forgiven/justified, we often in speech and in action downplay them so significantly that we shut our ears and shout any time we hear someone speak about doing good works in the wake of sin. This is a theological travesty. Of course, this doesn't mean we should swing in the opposite extreme and literally worship Mary as the Papists do (curiously, Augustine contradicts a couple main Marian heresies: "the one Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who only has had power to be so born as not to need a second birth"), but it does mean we should amend our ways and be much more willing to do good. We should follow the example of the Tax Collector, rather than our usual posture of the Pharisee thanking ourselves that we're not like those filthy Catholics (I am using hyperbole here, I do not think Catholics are filthy).
I fear that without tying some sort of action to our propitiation, we risk not taking sin seriously enough. As Augustine writes: "For not only do they commit these sins, but they love them so much that they would like to go on forever committing them, if only they could do so with impunity. Now, he who loveth iniquity hateth his own soul; and he who hateth his own soul is not merciful but cruel towards it. For in loving it according to the world, he hateth it according to God."
This brings us back to all the debates about social trends I mentioned above. In the same way that we refuse to attach any sort of physicality to sins, so also do we risk abstracting them, and continuing them with impunity. As discussed in the more philosophical beginning of this work, that which is Good is that which leads us toward fullness of existence; the fullest existence is God's, and the farther we stray from that, the darker things get. Augustine leaves open the possibility of purgatory, but he doesn't outright teach it. He thinks it possible as an extrapolation of the propitiation, but doesn't make a dogmatic statement on it.
He speaks likewise about abortion, being unsure medically or philosophically when life begins in the womb. But he does come to the common-sense conclusion that "To deny that the young who are cut out limb by limb from the womb...have never been alive, seems too audacious." We can't deny the violence of such an act unless we are likewise willing to do violence to our consciences and to language; but the part I cut out (ha) about the possible endangering of the mother's life, that makes it a complicated issue, and Augustine grants that. Either way, however, "from the time that a man begins to live, from that time it is possible for him to die. And if he die, wheresoever death may overtake him, I cannot discover on what principle he can be denied an interest in the resurrection of the dead."
In other words, we should take a keen interest in others and their faith, hope, and love. Unlike this supposedly "tolerant," libertarian, laissez-faire world we find ourselves in, we shouldn't be scared of engaging people on these important topics. But we must remember to do so with faith, hope, and love. I think the main thing to remember from this short book isn't just the doctrinal teachings, but the social aspect of life and morality. I'll end with a section where he speaks about one of the central aspects of Christianity: loving our enemies, which starts in forgiveness:
But none of those is greater than to forgive from the heart a sin that has been committed against us. For it is a comparatively small thing to wish well to, or even to do good to, a man who has done no evil to you. It is a much higher thing, and is the result of the most exalted goodness, to love your enemy, and always to wish well to, and when you have the opportunity, to do good to, the man who wishes you ill, and, when he can, does you harm. This is to obey the command of God: “Love your enemies, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which persecute you.” But seeing that this is a frame of mind only reached by the perfect sons of God, and that though every believer ought to strive after it, and by prayer to God and earnest struggling with himself endeavor to bring his soul up to this standard...it cannot be doubted that the implied undertaking is fulfilled if a man, though he has not yet attained to loving his enemy, yet, when asked by one who has sinned against him to forgive him his sin, does forgive him from his heart.
So what are we to believe? Who are we to love? What are we to hope for? Augustine lays it all out, both in philosophical and anti-philosophical ways. For the former, he elaborates on his conception of Evil being parasitic on Good and thus not existing in the strictest sense; for him, Good is That Which Exists (since existence comes from God and God always has existed, therefore all derivative existence is also good), and Evil is that which detracts from Good, who is the fullness of existence. Philosophically speaking, Good is substance while Evil is accident. All of this might be surprising for people who only know Augustine as the main proponent of Original Sin, but I think it provides a nice counterweight to Original Sin, helpfully preventing us from falling into body-hating gnosticism. This is one of the many places where Augustine tempers that which could run away into extremism. Another example: "Now what shall I say of love? Without it, faith profits nothing; and in its absence, hope cannot exist...And so the Apostle Paul approves and commends the 'faith that worketh by love;' and this certainly cannot exist without hope. Wherefore there is no love without hope, no hope without love, and neither love nor hope without faith."
For the anti-philosophical side of his argument, Augustine mercifully releases the average person from needing to do their own philosophical inquiry. Not only are most people uninterested or unprepared for such deep dives, but faith is the first step, the thing required before we can even do any philosophy. Though I don't think he uses the exact phrase, this echoes his notion of n "Credo ut intelligam"n, or "I believe in order to understand." Trying to philosophically arrive at our starting assumptions assumes an antecedent starting assumption, namely that we can arrive at any starting assumptions rationally. No matter how much we want our worldviews to be philosophically airtight (whatever that means), they can never be: they must start somewhere, which in essence means they must start with some sort of unprovable faith.
Augustine dares to claim that this does not mean we can't know anything, nor have any certainty, as philosophers even back then regularly asserted. Below is how he approaches things:
...for all things, as they assert, are either unknown or uncertain. Now I wrote three volumes shortly after my conversion, to remove out of my way the objections which lie, as it were, on the very threshold of faith. And assuredly it was necessary at the very outset to remove this utter despair of reaching truth, which seems to be strengthened by the arguments of these philosophers. Now in their eyes every error is regarded as a sin, and they think that error can only be avoided by entirely suspending belief. For they say that the man who assents to what is uncertain falls into error; and they strive by the most acute, but most audacious arguments, to show that, even though a man’s opinion should by chance be true, yet that there is no certainty of its truth, owing to the impossibility of distinguishing truth from falsehood. But with us, “the just shall live by faith.”
...
But I am not sure whether one ought to argue with men who not only do not know that there is an eternal life before them, but do not know whether they are living at the present moment; nay, say that they do not know what it is impossible they can be ignorant of. For it is impossible that any one should be ignorant that he is alive...
The selfsame men who set up as a god their search for absolute philosophical/scientific truths must of necessity make absurd, obviously untrue statements, such as their conclusion that they can't even be sure they themselves exist. It seems that things alone and taken to extremes are the cause of folly: as with logos sans ethos and pathos, so also with faith without love or hope. In a way this echoes my lamenting of "scientia sine sapientia," knowledge without wisdom, which is so common today.
Even back in Augustine's day, we had the same problems. Ecclesiastes really is right: there's nothing new under the sun. Every time we think we've hit on something new, it has existed before, and it will exist again. All things are wearisome.
For example, Augustine brings up Kant's categorical imperative: "The question is this: whether at any time it can become the duty of a good man to tell a lie?" The conclusion he comes to is that yes it is always a sin to lie, but the amount of blame varies widely depending on your level of ignorance and your intentions. He gives an interesting example when he was accidentally told the wrong directions to get somewhere, but it actually saved his life, because he avoided some bandits on the road he was supposed to travel.
Another example which hits closer to home:
Whence also the expression in Genesis: “The cry of Sodom and Gomorrah is great,” because in these cities crimes were not only not punished, but were openly committed, as if under the protection of the law. And so in our own times: many forms of sin, though not just the same as those of Sodom and Gomorrah, are now so openly and habitually practised, that not only dare we not ex-communicate a layman, we dare not even degrade a clergyman, for the commission of them... “Woe to the sins of men! for it is only when we are not accustomed to them that we shrink from them: when once we are accustomed to them, though the blood of the Son of God was poured out to wash them away, though they are so great that the kingdom of God is wholly shut against them, constant familiarity leads to the toleration of them all, and habitual toleration leads to the practice of many of them. And grant, O Lord, that we may not come to practise all that we have not the power to hinder.”
Contemporary examples are nearly too numerous to comment on. As I've theorized elsewhere, there's never a net increase or decrease in taboos, only a shifting of which ones go in and out of vogue. It's the same with sins that we put up with. We're in an age where "justice," whatever that means, is righteously upheld as an important virtue, but myriad other issues are left in the mud. I remember the birth pains of 2014 when the gay marriage issue burst into the public discourse. Overnight everyone became an expert in Jewish law and the various relevant scriptures. Something which had never existed in the history of the world (gay marriage) was suddenly not only debatable, but had such momentum behind it that those who knew which way the wind blew got behind it. The same happened with the trans debate in the last couple years, but here it was so abbreviated that there was no debate: almost instantaneously, like God's own creation, people said it and it was so.
Despite all the "changes" happening today, none of this is really new. All of us know what is right and wrong, and if we claim we don't, we at the very least know what is selfish versus selfless, in other words what is Godly (exalts God) versus godless (makes us a god). There's really no excuse for any of us ever. I think Augustine might be too lenient when he argues there are either sins of ignorance or sins of not performing the duty we know. I guess I'm more Kierkegaardian. For even pre-literate children know what is right and wrong, you can see it in their eyes when they do something mischevious, when they think they can get away with evil, and when they get caught in their evil (their eyes immediately well up with tears).
We can certainly debate the specifics of sin, but we need not get so hung up on distracting trends. Augustine spills considerable ink over the Antinomian dilemma, namely "Christians" who professes faith in God but who regularly act in absolute contradiction to that faith. To sum it all up, James already covered this: that profession is not faith, but rather a mockery of faith. Some try to use the obscure passage about "passing through fire" to argue that these people will just go to purgatory for a while, but Augustine is right to differentiate that that passage speaks of having Christ as their foundation, while the "Christian-in-name-only" person doesn't even have Christ as their foundation, as James points out. Faith without a change in actions is dead, i.e. is not faith. In other words, if you claim to hold Christian faith but are never faced with moral dilemmas, never have had to deny yourself, spoiler alert, you're not a Christian.
Building off of this discussion, I do find it shocking how us Protestants have run so far in the direction of the Solas that we have completely done away with and actively shun any sort of alms giving or other propitiation. Though yes, we Protestants follow the letter of scripture and say that such things are not "required" before we can be forgiven/justified, we often in speech and in action downplay them so significantly that we shut our ears and shout any time we hear someone speak about doing good works in the wake of sin. This is a theological travesty. Of course, this doesn't mean we should swing in the opposite extreme and literally worship Mary as the Papists do (curiously, Augustine contradicts a couple main Marian heresies: "the one Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who only has had power to be so born as not to need a second birth"), but it does mean we should amend our ways and be much more willing to do good. We should follow the example of the Tax Collector, rather than our usual posture of the Pharisee thanking ourselves that we're not like those filthy Catholics (I am using hyperbole here, I do not think Catholics are filthy).
I fear that without tying some sort of action to our propitiation, we risk not taking sin seriously enough. As Augustine writes: "For not only do they commit these sins, but they love them so much that they would like to go on forever committing them, if only they could do so with impunity. Now, he who loveth iniquity hateth his own soul; and he who hateth his own soul is not merciful but cruel towards it. For in loving it according to the world, he hateth it according to God."
This brings us back to all the debates about social trends I mentioned above. In the same way that we refuse to attach any sort of physicality to sins, so also do we risk abstracting them, and continuing them with impunity. As discussed in the more philosophical beginning of this work, that which is Good is that which leads us toward fullness of existence; the fullest existence is God's, and the farther we stray from that, the darker things get. Augustine leaves open the possibility of purgatory, but he doesn't outright teach it. He thinks it possible as an extrapolation of the propitiation, but doesn't make a dogmatic statement on it.
He speaks likewise about abortion, being unsure medically or philosophically when life begins in the womb. But he does come to the common-sense conclusion that "To deny that the young who are cut out limb by limb from the womb...have never been alive, seems too audacious." We can't deny the violence of such an act unless we are likewise willing to do violence to our consciences and to language; but the part I cut out (ha) about the possible endangering of the mother's life, that makes it a complicated issue, and Augustine grants that. Either way, however, "from the time that a man begins to live, from that time it is possible for him to die. And if he die, wheresoever death may overtake him, I cannot discover on what principle he can be denied an interest in the resurrection of the dead."
In other words, we should take a keen interest in others and their faith, hope, and love. Unlike this supposedly "tolerant," libertarian, laissez-faire world we find ourselves in, we shouldn't be scared of engaging people on these important topics. But we must remember to do so with faith, hope, and love. I think the main thing to remember from this short book isn't just the doctrinal teachings, but the social aspect of life and morality. I'll end with a section where he speaks about one of the central aspects of Christianity: loving our enemies, which starts in forgiveness:
But none of those is greater than to forgive from the heart a sin that has been committed against us. For it is a comparatively small thing to wish well to, or even to do good to, a man who has done no evil to you. It is a much higher thing, and is the result of the most exalted goodness, to love your enemy, and always to wish well to, and when you have the opportunity, to do good to, the man who wishes you ill, and, when he can, does you harm. This is to obey the command of God: “Love your enemies, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which persecute you.” But seeing that this is a frame of mind only reached by the perfect sons of God, and that though every believer ought to strive after it, and by prayer to God and earnest struggling with himself endeavor to bring his soul up to this standard...it cannot be doubted that the implied undertaking is fulfilled if a man, though he has not yet attained to loving his enemy, yet, when asked by one who has sinned against him to forgive him his sin, does forgive him from his heart.