Studia Patristica - Papers Presented at the Eighteenth International Conference on Patristic Studies Held in Oxford 2019: Augustine and His Writings (15) (Studia Patristica, 118) 9789042947641, 9789042947658, 9042947640

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STUDIA PATRISTICA VOL. CXVIII

Papers presented at the Eighteenth International Conference on Patristic Studies held in Oxford 2019 Edited by MARKUS VINZENT Volume 15:

Augustine and his Writings

PEETERS LEUVEN – PARIS – BRISTOL, CT

2021

STUDIA PATRISTICA VOL. CXVIII

STUDIA PATRISTICA Editor: Markus VINZENT, King’s College London, UK and Max Weber Centre, University of Erfurt, Germany

Board of Directors (2019): Carol HARRISON, Lady Margaret Professor of Divinity, Faculty of Theology and Religion, University of Oxford, UK Mark EDWARDS, Professor of Early Christian Studies, Faculty of Theology and Religion, University of Oxford, UK Neil MCLYNN, University Lecturer in Later Roman History, Faculty of Classics, University of Oxford, UK Philip BOOTH, A.G. Leventis Associate Professor in Eastern Christianity, Faculty of Theology and Religion, University of Oxford, UK Sophie LUNN-ROCKLIFFE, Lecturer in Patristics, Faculty of Divinity, University of Cambridge, UK Morwenna LUDLOW, Professor, Theology and Religion, University of Exeter, UK Ioannis PAPADOGIANNAKIS, Senior Lecturer in Patristics, Department of Theology and Religious Studies, King’s College London, UK Markus VINZENT, Professor of the History of Theology, Department of Theology and Religious Studies, King’s College London, UK Josef LÖSSL, Professor of Historical Theology and Intellectual History, School of History, Archaeology and Religion, Cardiff University, UK Lewis AYRES, Professor of Catholic and Historical Theology, Department of Theology and Religion, Durham University, UK John BEHR, Regius Chair in Humanity, The School of Divinity, History, Philosophy & Art History, University of Aberdeen, UK Anthony DUPONT, Research Professor in Christian Antiquity, Faculty of Theology and Religious Studies, KU Leuven, Belgium Patricia CINER (as president of AIEP), Professor, Universidad de San Juan-Universidad Católica de Cuyo, Argentina Clayton JEFFORD (as president of NAPS), Professor of Scripture, Seminary and School of Theology, Saint Meinrad, IN, USA

STUDIA PATRISTICA VOL. CXVIII

Papers presented at the Eighteenth International Conference on Patristic Studies held in Oxford 2019 Edited by MARKUS VINZENT Volume 15:

Augustine and his Writings

PEETERS LEUVEN – PARIS – BRISTOL, CT

2021

© Peeters Publishers — Louvain — Belgium 2021 All rights reserved, including the right to translate or to reproduce this book or parts thereof in any form. D/2021/0602/152 ISBN: 978-90-429-4764-1 eISBN: 978-90-429-4765-8 A catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. Printed in Belgium by Peeters, Leuven

Table of Contents

Michael CAMERON How did Augustine Understand Reading Texts ad litteram? ............

1

Lal DINGLUAIA Augustine’s Evolving Attitudes to the Vetus Latina – Genesis as a Test Case .............................................................................................

11

Mark W. ELLIOTT Questioning the Questions on the Heptateuch ...................................

21

Jillian MARCANTONIO Speechless and Searching: Augustine’s Understanding of Infancy ...

33

Lenka KARFÍKOVÁ Souls of Stars and Ideas of Individuals: Origenian Material in Augustine’s Ep. 14? ......................................................................................

41

Oscar VELÁSQUEZ Augustinian Interiority and Platonic Dialectics: From Cassiciacum to Confessions......................................................................................

57

Kenji MIZUOCHI What are the libri disciplinarum in Cassiciacum? Licentius’ Poem in Augustine’s Epistula 26 ......................................................................

65

Sean HANNAN The Enforcement of Violence and the Force of Love in Augustine: Epistle 93 and its Aftermath ...............................................................

71

Martin CLAES Reflections on Augustine’s Evaluation of the Body in his Later Comments on Genesis: A Christological Perspective ................................

81

Enrico MORO Perception, Dreaming and Levels of Consciousness in Augustine’s De Genesi ad litteram XII ..................................................................

91

Marie-Ange RAKOTONIAINA The Circumcision of the Heart and the Making of Christian Identity in Augustine’s Enarrationes in Psalmos ............................................ 103

VI

Table of Contents

Phillip J. BROWN Augustine’s Appropriation of Cyprian’s Unitive Tropes from De Ecclesiae Catholicae Unitate within his In Iohannis Euangelium Tractatus 1-16...................................................................................... 117 Jiani FAN Saint Augustine’s Confessions and Speech Acts................................ 131 Hana BENEŠOVÁ The Transformation of Desire in Saint Augustine’s Confessions and the Sermones ad Populum as a Paradigm for our Pilgrimage ........... 147 Rachel K. TEUBNER From the Homiletic to the Lyric: Transformations of Genre in Augustine’s Confessiones 9 ........................................................................... 157 Maurizio Filippo DI SILVA Augustine’s Concept of materia spiritalis: Confessiones XII-XIII ....

165

György HEIDL Augustine on Singing .......................................................................... 173 Jimmy CHAN Living with Happiness in a Troubled World? A Critical Exploration of Augustine’s Reception of Stoic Emotions in De civitate Dei ....... 181 Martin BELLEROSE A Theology of Hospitality from Augustine’s Understanding of the Theophany of Mamre .......................................................................... 203 Tamara SAETEROS PÉREZ Love and creatio, conversio, formatio in Augustine of Hippo .......... 213 Kitty BOUWMAN Continence as Mystagogue. Divine Motherhood in the Conversion of Augustine ............................................................................................. 227 Przemysław NEHRING Navigating between Stereotypes: Augustine on Marriage and Virginity .................................................................................................... 243

Abbreviations AA.SS AAWG.PH AB AC ACL ACO ACW AHDLMA AJAH AJP AKK AKPAW ALMA ALW AnalBoll ANCL ANF ANRW AnSt AnThA APOT AR ARW ASS AThANT Aug AugSt AW AZ BA BAC BASOR BDAG BEHE BETL BGL BHG BHL

see ASS. Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen Philologisch-historische Klasse, Göttingen. Analecta Bollandiana, Brussels. Antike und Christentum, ed. F.J. Dölger, Münster. Antiquité classique, Louvain. Acta conciliorum oecumenicorum, ed. E. Schwartz, Berlin. Ancient Christian Writers, ed. J. Quasten and J.C. Plumpe, Westminster (Md.)/London. Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du moyen âge, Paris. American Journal of Ancient History, Cambridge, Mass. American Journal of Philology, Baltimore. Archiv für katholisches Kirchenrecht, Mainz. Abhandlungen der königlichen Preußischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, Berlin. Archivum Latinitatis Medii Aevi (Bulletin du Cange), Paris/Brussels. Archiv für Liturgiewissenschaft, Regensburg. Analecta Bollandiana, Brussels. Ante-Nicene Christian Library, Edinburgh. Ante-Nicene Fathers, Buffalo/New York. Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt, ed H. Temporini et al., Berlin. Anatolian Studies, London. Année théologique augustinienne, Paris. Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament in English, ed. R.E. Charles, Oxford. Archivum Romanicum, Florence. Archiv für Religionswissenschaft, Berlin/Leipzig. Acta Sanctorum, ed. the Bollandists, Brussels. Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments, Zürich. Augustinianum, Rome. Augustinian Studies, Villanova (USA). Athanasius Werke, ed. H.-G. Opitz et al., Berlin. Archäologische Zeitung, Berlin. Bibliothèque augustinienne, Paris. Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, Madrid. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, New Haven, Conn. A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, 3rd edn F.W. Danker, Chicago. Bibliothèque de l’École des Hautes Études, Paris. Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium, Louvain. Benediktinisches Geistesleben, St. Ottilien. Bibliotheca Hagiographica Graeca, Brussels. Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina Antiquae et Mediae Aetatis, Brussels.

VIII BHO BHTh BJ BJRULM BKV BKV2 BKV3 BLE BoJ BS BSL BWAT Byz BZ BZNW CAr CBQ CChr.CM CChr.SA CChr.SG CChr.SL CH CIL CP(h) CPG CPL CQ CR CSCO

CSEL CSHB CTh CUF CW DAC

Abbreviations

Bibliotheca Hagiographica Orientalis, Brussels. Beiträge zur historischen Theologie, Tübingen. Bursians Jahresbericht über die Fortschritte der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft, Leipzig. Bulletin of the John Rylands Library, Manchester. Bibliothek der Kirchenväter, ed. F.X. Reithmayr and V. Thalhofer, Kempten. Bibliothek der Kirchenväter, ed. O. Bardenhewer, Th. Schermann, and C. Weyman, Kempten/Munich. Bibliothek der Kirchenväter. Zweite Reihe, ed. O. Bardenhewer, J. Zellinger, and J. Martin, Munich. Bulletin de littérature ecclésiastique, Toulouse. Bonner Jahrbücher, Bonn. Bibliotheca sacra, London. Bolletino di studi latini, Naples. Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten Testament, Leipzig/Stuttgart. Byzantion, Leuven. Byzantinische Zeitschrift, Leipzig. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft, Berlin. Cahiers Archéologique, Paris. Catholic Biblical Quarterly, Washington. Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis, Turnhout/Paris. Corpus Christianorum, Series Apocryphorum, Turnhout/Paris. Corpus Christianorum, Series Graeca, Turnhout/Paris. Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina, Turnhout/Paris. Church History, Chicago. Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, Berlin. Classical Philology, Chicago. Clavis Patrum Graecorum, ed. M. Geerard, vols. I-VI, Turnhout. Clavis Patrum Latinorum (SE 3), ed. E. Dekkers and A. Gaar, Turnhout. Classical Quarterly, London/Oxford. The Classical Review, London/Oxford. Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, Louvain. Aeth = Scriptores Aethiopici Ar = Scriptores Arabici Arm = Scriptores Armeniaci Copt = Scriptores Coptici Iber = Scriptores Iberici Syr = Scriptores Syri Subs = Subsidia Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum, Vienna. Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae, Bonn. Collectanea Theologica, Lvov. Collection des Universités de France publiée sous le patronage de l’Association Guillaume Budé, Paris. Catholic World, New York. Dictionary of the Apostolic Church, ed. J. Hastings, Edinburgh.

Abbreviations

DACL DAL DB DBS DCB DHGE Did DOP DOS DR DS DSp DTC EA ECatt ECQ EE EECh EKK EH EO EtByz ETL EWNT ExpT FC FGH FKDG FRL FS FThSt FTS FZThPh GCS GDV GLNT GNO GRBS

IX

see DAL Dictionnaire d’archéologie chrétienne et de liturgie, ed. F. Cabrol, H. Leclercq, Paris. Dictionnaire de la Bible, Paris. Dictionnaire de la Bible, Supplément, Paris. Dictionary of Christian Biography, Literature, Sects, and Doctrines, ed. W. Smith and H. Wace, 4 vols, London. Dictionnaire d’histoire et de géographie ecclésiastique, ed. A. Baudrillart, Paris. Didaskalia, Lisbon. Dumbarton Oaks Papers, Cambridge, Mass., subsequently Washington, D.C. Dumbarton Oaks Studies, Cambridge, Mass., subsequently Washington, D.C. Downside Review, Stratton on the Fosse, Bath. H.J. Denzinger and A. Schönmetzer, ed., Enchiridion Symbolorum, Barcelona/Freiburg i.B./Rome. Dictionnaire de Spiritualité, ed. M. Viller, S.J., and others, Paris. Dictionnaire de théologie catholique, ed. A. Vacant, E. Mangenot, and E. Amann, Paris. Études augustiniennes, Paris. Enciclopedia Cattolica, Rome. Eastern Churches Quarterly, Ramsgate. Estudios eclesiasticos, Madrid. Encyclopedia of the Early Church, ed. A. Di Berardino, Cambridge. Evangelisch-Katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament, Neukirchen. Enchiridion Fontium Historiae Ecclesiasticae Antiquae, ed. Ueding-Kirch, 6th ed., Barcelona. Échos d’Orient, Paris. Études Byzantines, Paris. Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses, Louvain. Exegetisches Wörterbuch zum NT, ed. H.R. Balz et al., Stuttgart. The Expository Times, Edinburgh. The Fathers of the Church, New York. Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, Berlin. Forschungen zur Kirchen- und Dogmengeschichte, Göttingen. Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments, Göttingen. Festschrift. Freiburger theologische Studien, Freiburg i.B. Frankfurter theologische Studien, Frankfurt a.M. Freiburger Zeitschrift für Theologie und Philosophie, Freiburg/Switzerland. Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller, Leipzig/Berlin. Geschichtsschreiber der deutschen Vorzeit, Stuttgart. Grande Lessico del Nuovo Testamento, Genoa. Gregorii Nysseni Opera, Leiden. Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies, Cambridge, Mass.

X GWV HbNT HDR HJG HKG HNT HO HSCP HTR HTS HZ ICC ILCV ILS J(b)AC JBL JdI JECS JEH JJS JLH JPTh JQR JRS JSJ JSOR JTS KAV KeTh KJ(b) LCL LNPF L(O)F LSJ LThK LXX MA MAMA Mansi MBTh

Abbreviations

Geschichte in Wissenschaft und Unterricht, Offenburg. Handbuch zum Neuen Testament. Tübingen. Harvard Dissertations in Religion, Missoula. Historisches Jahrbuch der Görresgesellschaft, successively Munich, Cologne and Munich/Freiburg i.B. Handbuch der Kirchengeschichte, Tübingen. Handbuch zum Neuen Testament, Tübingen. Handbuch der Orientalistik, Leiden. Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, Cambridge, Mass. Harvard Theological Review, Cambridge, Mass. Harvard Theological Studies, Cambridge, Mass. Historische Zeitschrift, Munich/Berlin. The International Critical Commentary of the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, Edinburgh. Inscriptiones Latinae Christianae Veteres, ed. E. Diehl, Berlin. Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae, ed. H. Dessau, Berlin. Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum, Münster. Journal of Biblical Literature, Philadelphia, Pa., then various places. Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Berlin. Journal of Early Christian Studies, Baltimore. The Journal of Ecclesiastical History, London. Journal of Jewish Studies, London. Jahrbuch für Liturgik und Hymnologie, Kassel. Jahrbücher für protestantische Theologie, Leipzig/Freiburg i.B. Jewish Quarterly Review, Philadelphia. Journal of Roman Studies, London. Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman Period, Leiden. Journal of the Society of Oriental Research, Chicago. Journal of Theological Studies, Oxford. Kommentar zu den apostolischen Vätern, Göttingen. Kerk en Theologie, ’s Gravenhage. Kirchliches Jahrbuch für die evangelische Kirche in Deutschland, Gütersloh. The Loeb Classical Library, London/Cambridge, Mass. A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, ed. P. Schaff and H. Wace, Buffalo/New York. Library of Fathers of the Holy Catholic Church, Oxford. H.G. Liddell and R. Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon, new (9th) edn H.S. Jones, Oxford. Lexikon für Theologie und Kirche, Freiburg i.B. Septuagint. Moyen-Âge, Brussels. Monumenta Asiae Minoris Antiqua, London. J.D. Mansi, Sacrorum conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio, Florence, 1759-1798. Reprint and continuation: Paris/Leipzig, 1901-1927. Münsterische Beiträge zur Theologie, Münster.

Abbreviations

MCom MGH ML MPG MSR MThZ Mus NA28 NGWG NH(M)S NIV NKJV NovTest NPNF NRSV NRTh NTA NT.S NTS NTTSD OBO OCA OCP OECS OLA OLP Or OrChr OrSyr PG PGL PL PLRE PLS PO PRE PS PTA PThR PTS PW QLP QuLi RAC RACh

XI

Miscelanea Comillas, Comillas/Santander. Monumenta germaniae historica. Hanover/Berlin. Mediaevalia Lovaniensia, Louvain. See PG. Mélanges de science religieuse, Lille. Münchener theologische Zeitschrift, Munich. Le Muséon, Louvain. Nestle-Aland, Novum Testamentum Graece, 28th edition, Stuttgart. Nachrichten der Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen. Nag Hammadi (and Manichaean) Studies, Leiden. New International Version. New King James Version. Novum Testamentum, Leiden. See LNPF. New Revised Standard Version. Nouvelle Revue Théologique, Tournai/Louvain/Paris. Neutestamentliche Abhandlungen, Münster. Novum Testamentum Supplements, Leiden. New Testament Studies, Cambridge/Washington. New Testament Tools, Studies and Documents, Leiden/Boston. Orbis biblicus et orientalis, Freiburg, Switz., then Louvain. Orientalia Christiana Analecta, Rome. Orientalia Christiana Periodica, Rome. Oxford Early Christian Studies, Oxford. Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, Louvain. Orientalia Lovaniensia Periodica, Louvain. Orientalia. Commentarii editi a Pontificio Instituto Biblico, Rome. Oriens Christianus, Leipzig, then Wiesbaden. L’Orient Syrien, Paris. Migne, Patrologia, series graeca. A Patristic Greek Lexicon, ed. G.L. Lampe, Oxford. Migne, Patrologia, series latina. The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, ed. A.H.M. Jones et al., Cambridge. Migne, Patrologia, series latina. Supplementum ed. A. Hamman. Patrologia Orientalis, Paris. Paulys Realenzyklopädie der classischen Alterthumswissenschaft, Stuttgart. Patrologia Syriaca, Paris. Papyrologische Texte und Abhandlungen, Bonn. Princeton Theological Review, Princeton. Patristische Texte und Studien, Berlin. Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, ed. G. Wissowa, Stuttgart. Questions liturgiques et paroissiales, Louvain. Questions liturgiques, Louvain. Rivista di Archeologia Cristiana, Rome. Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, Stuttgart.

XII RAM RAug RBen RB(ibl) RE

Abbreviations

Revue d’ascétique et de mystique, Paris. Recherches Augustiniennes, Paris. Revue Bénédictine, Maredsous. Revue biblique, Paris. Realencyklopädie für protestantische Theologie und Kirche, founded by J.J. Herzog, 3e ed. A. Hauck, Leipzig. REA(ug) Revue des études Augustiniennes, Paris. REB Revue des études byzantines, Paris. RED Rerum ecclesiasticarum documenta, Rome. RÉL Revue des études latines, Paris. REG Revue des études grecques, Paris. RevSR Revue des sciences religieuses, Strasbourg. RevThom Revue thomiste, Toulouse. RFIC Rivista di filologia e d’istruzione classica, Turin. RGG Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart, ed. Gunkel-Zscharnack, Tübingen RHE Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, Louvain. RhMus Rheinisches Museum für Philologie, Bonn. RHR Revue de l’histoire des religions, Paris. RHT Revue d’Histoire des Textes, Paris. RMAL Revue du Moyen-Âge Latin, Paris. ROC Revue de l’Orient chrétien, Paris. RPh Revue de philologie, Paris. RQ Römische Quartalschrift, Freiburg i.B. RQH Revue des questions historiques, Paris. RSLR Rivista di storia e letteratura religiosa, Florence. RSPT, RSPh Revue des sciences philosophiques et théologiques, Paris. RSR Recherches de science religieuse, Paris. RTAM Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale, Louvain. RthL Revue théologique de Louvain, Louvain. RTM Rivista di teologia morale, Bologna. Sal Salesianum, Roma. SBA Schweizerische Beiträge zur Altertumswissenschaft, Basel. SBS Stuttgarter Bibelstudien, Stuttgart. ScEc Sciences ecclésiastiques, Bruges. SCh, SC Sources chrétiennes, Paris. SD Studies and Documents, ed. K. Lake and S. Lake. London/Philadelphia. SE Sacris Erudiri, Bruges. SDHI Studia et documenta historiae et iuris, Roma. SH Subsidia Hagiographica, Brussels. SHA Scriptores Historiae Augustae. SJMS Speculum. Journal of Mediaeval Studies, Cambridge, Mass. SM Studien und Mitteilungen zur Geschichte des Benediktinerordens und seiner Zweige, Munich. SO Symbolae Osloenses, Oslo. SP Studia Patristica, successively Berlin, Kalamazoo, Leuven. SPM Stromata Patristica et Mediaevalia, ed. C. Mohrmann and J. Quasten, Utrecht.

Abbreviations

SQ SQAW SSL StudMed SVigChr SVF TDNT TE ThGl ThJ ThLZ ThPh ThQ ThR ThWAT ThWNT ThZ TLG TP TRE TS TThZ TU USQR VC VetChr VT WBC WUNT WZKM YUP ZAC ZAM ZAW ZDPV ZKG ZKTh ZNW ZRG ZThK

XIII

Sammlung ausgewählter Quellenschriften zur Kirchen- und Dogmengeschichte, Tübingen. Schriften und Quellen der Alten Welt, Berlin. Spicilegium Sacrum Lovaniense, Louvain. Studi Medievali, Turin. Supplements to Vigiliae Christianae, Leiden. Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta, ed. J. von Arnim, Leipzig. Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, Grand Rapids, Mich. Teologia espiritual, Valencia. Theologie und Glaube, Paderborn. Theologische Jahrbücher, Leipzig. Theologische Literaturzeitung, Leipzig. Theologie und Philosophie, Freiburg i.B. Theologische Quartalschrift, Tübingen. Theologische Rundschau, Tübingen. Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament, Stuttgart. Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament, Stuttgart. Theologische Zeitschrift, Basel. Thesaurus Linguae Graecae. Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association, Lancaster, Pa. Theologische Realenzyklopädie, Berlin. Theological Studies, New York and various places; now Washington, DC. Trierer theologische Zeitschrift, Trier. Texte und Untersuchungen, Leipzig/Berlin. Union Seminary Quarterly Review, New York. Vigiliae Christianae, Amsterdam. Vetera Christianorum, Bari (Italy). Vetus Testamentum, Leiden. Word Biblical Commentary, Waco. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, Tübingen. Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes, Vienna. Yale University Press, New Haven. Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum, Berlin. Zeitschrift für Aszese und Mystik, Innsbruck, then Würzburg. Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft, Giessen, then Berlin. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins, Leipzig. Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, Gotha, then Stuttgart. Zeitschrift für katholische Theologie, Vienna. Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche, Giessen, then Berlin. Zeitschrift für Rechtsgeschichte, Weimar. Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche, Tübingen.

How did Augustine Understand Reading Texts ad litteram? Michael CAMERON, University of Portland, OR, USA

ABSTRACT About 401, Augustine began to write De Genesi ad litteram, his great commentary on Genesis in twelve books according to the mode of reading texts ‘in terms of the letter’. The phrase ad litteram seems to describe straightforwardly a pattern of reading ‘literally’ as opposed to ‘allegorically’. So he portrays it in the commentary and in his retrospective Retractationes. Yet this characterization presents some problems. First, on reading the commentary one quickly learns that reading ad litteram generates, for Augustine, interpretations that go wildly beyond what moderns consider ‘literal’. Second, this use of the phrase ad litteram masks Augustine’s long and sometimes difficult history with understanding ‘the letter’ of Scripture. Only a few years before beginning the Genesis commentary, he characterized reading ad litteram as a snare and a way of death for the soul, following the statement of Paul in 2Cor. 3:6, ‘the littera kills’ (Conf. 5.14.24). What phases did his understanding pass through to arrive at the positive understanding of ad litteram that functioned in the Genesis commentary? Analysis uncovers a story of a shift in hermeneutical perspective and a development of themes as varied as the person of Christ, the character of redemption, the function of law, and the workings of language. This article will study Augustine’s pursuit of a spiritually satisfying and intellectually compelling understanding of the biblical texts ad litteram.

Introduction How Did Augustine understand reading texts ad litteram? About 401, Augustine began to write De Genesi ad litteram, his great commentary on Genesis in twelve books according to the mode of reading texts ad litteram, ‘in terms of the letter’. The phrase ad litteram seems to describe straightforwardly a pattern of reading ‘literally’ as opposed to ‘allegorically’. So he portrays it in the commentary itself (Gn. litt. 1.1.1-2). Yet this characterization presents some problems. First, on reading the commentary one quickly learns that reading ad litteram generates, for Augustine, interpretations that go wildly beyond what moderns consider ‘literal’ (e.g., relating the creation of light to Christ and the Trinity in Gn. litt. 1.2.4-8.14). Second, his use of the phrase ad litteram masks Augustine’s long and sometimes tortuous history with ‘the letter’ of Scripture.

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 1-9. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

2

M. CAMERON

What phases did Augustine’s understanding pass through to arrive at the positive understanding of reading ad litteram that functioned in the Genesis commentary? Analysis uncovers a story of shifting hermeneutical perspectives and developing conceptual themes as varied as the person of Christ, the character of redemption, the function of law, and the workings of language. This paper will track Augustine’s pursuit of a spiritually and intellectually compelling understanding of reading biblical texts ad litteram. I go back over instances of his use of the phrase ad litteram, categorizing their function by type. Then I trace the story of Augustine’s developing use of the phrase ad litteram up to the beginning of the Genesis commentary of 401, when his use of the phrase reached a certain stability. Closely related but different lines of interest converge here; but I focus solely on Augustine’s use of the phrase ad litteram in order to get clearer about Augustine’s understanding of what is commonly known as the ‘literal’ sense. 1. Context In Latin literature before Augustine, the phrase ad litteram appears only three times, in passing, once each in Cicero (De oratore 2.249), Seneca (Suasoriae 7.14), and Quintilian (Institutio oratoria 9.1.25). Each time it bears no relation to our subject. Among Augustine’s Christian contemporaries, the phrase appears less than half a dozen times total in Ambrose (De Noe 17.62; De fide 3.5) and Jerome (e.g. Comm. Ezech. 12.40; 14.47), with the verb pertineo, ‘to belong’, or refero, ‘refer’. This verb governs the preposition ad as directional, designating the circumscribed area of textual sense, that is, belonging ‘to’ the letter as being ordered and controlled by notions that derive immediately and non-metaphorically from its root sense. Augustine’s Manichean experience is relevant. The Manichean Augustine mocked Nicene Christians for what he thought was naïve logic fomented by Jewish literalism, whose carnal outlook had surrendered to views antagonistic to the true high God of Light by its carnal outlook; that included conceiving of God with hair, teeth and nails. Ambrose, drawing on Origen, radically reoriented Augustine’s understanding about 384-385. Augustine’s earliest treatise reported that ‘our priest’, i.e. Ambrose, insisted that conceptions of God should have ‘absolutely nothing bodily’ about them (De beata uita 1.4). This correlated with Ambrose’s rhetorical characterization of biblical language not unlike that which Augustine knew well from his rhetorical training and teaching. The idea that the texts he had mocked had borrowed human capacities for figurative language, in order to reveal a non-material realm, struck him as a new thought, and it opened the way to his conversion. Ad litteram evidently was a phrase of Augustine’s own construction that paralleled by the phrases ‘through the letter’ (per litteram; 27×, e.g., c. Faust. 19.8;

How did Augustine Understand Reading Texts ad litteram?

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ep. 145.5) and ‘according to letter’ (secundum litteram; 14×, e.g., Gn. adu. Man. 2.2.3), as well as numerous and varied forms of the adjective proprius (specifying the root meaning that natively ‘belongs’ to the word without extension into metaphor), which requires its own study (just over 2000×). Early works preferred these constructions, along with one other phrase that also persists throughout his career, ‘the letter sounds’, littera sonat preceded by either ‘as’ (ut; mor. 1.10.17; sicut; spir. et litt. 4.6), or perhaps quam (‘than’ implying comparison with deeper sense; Gn. adu. Man. 2.2.3;1 self-quoted in Gn. litt. 8.2). 2. Early Usage The phrase ad litteram does not appear in Augustine’s post-baptismal period as a lay Catholic apologist (387-391), though parallel concerns appear in his first extended reading of a biblical text in the mode of Origen and Ambrose, De Genesi adversus Manichaeos. Augustine justified that book’s largely figurative reading of Genesis as forced by obstruction to non-figurative readings of the Bible that can be understood in a way that coheres with the letter and with Catholic faith (Gn. adu. Man. 2.2.3). The phrase ad litteram emerges as a shorthand reference to this non-allegorical way of reading in De utilitate credendi of 391. This was the first tract Augustine wrote after ordination as presbyter, which he composed in order to retract his former Manichean claims about the Bible, hoping to recall a friend who became a Manichean convert under him. De utilitate credendi explains the new sense of the complexity of the whole Bible, Old and New Testaments, which actually fits God’s changing salvation plan for the ages. One of the four modes of reading Scripture, writes Augustine, is allegory (allegoria), which teaches ‘that what was written is not to be taken ad litteram but has to be understood in a figurative sense’.2 He goes on to say that truly spiritual readers well understand, as he has come to understand, that ‘nothing is more pernicious than to take everything there ad litteram, i.e., only in terms of the word itself, while nothing is more beneficial than to have it unveiled by the Spirit’.3 In good Origenian-Ambrosian fashion, Augustine has transposed Paul’s sentence in 2Cor. 3:6, ‘the letter kills but the spirit gives life’, into a universal hermeneutic principle. 1

Gen. adu. Man. 2.2.3: secundum litteram accipere, id est non aliter intelligere quam littera sonat (BA 50, 272). 2 De utilitate credendi 3.5: secundum allegoriam, cum docetur non ad litteram esse accipienda quaedam, quae scripta sunt, sed figurate intellegenda (CSEL 25/1, 8). Translated by Matthew O’Connell, On the Advantage of Believing, WSA 1/8 (Hyde Park, NY, 2005), 120. 3 De utilitate credendi 3.9: Omnis pius intellegat nihil esse perniciosius quam quicquid ibi est accipi ad litteram, id est ad uerbum; nihil autem salubrius quam spiritu reuelari (CSEL 25/1, 13). Trans. O’Connell, WSA 1/8 (2005), 123.

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This negative and restrictive sense of reading ad litteram extends to two other references to ad litteram during his priestly period. Augustine’s exposition of the Sermon on the Mount refuses the absurd ad litteram reading of Jesus’ saying that if one remembers a torn relationship while making an offering, one should leave the gift on the altar, go to the offended, become reconciled, and then return to offer the gift. The physical impossibility of this in most situations renders it necessary to read this text figuratively, Augustine wrote (s. dom. m. 1.10.26-7). Again, Augustine’s first series of treatments of Psalms 1-32, from before 395, speaks of many who have tried to read the historical references to David in the heading to Psalm 7 non carnaliter ad litteram sed spiritaliter. It implies avoidance of a reductionistic concern for the merely external story line of David in the Old Testament rather than the spiritual reading that unveils its depths and points to Christ (en. Ps. 7.1). Curiously, and importantly, in the work of 393 to which Retractationes gave the title, De Genesi ad litteram imperfectus liber (retr. 1.18.17), Augustine never uses the phrase ad litteram. This work was not published in its own time; Augustine says he nearly destroyed it on rediscovering it on his shelf in the 420s. But he preserved it and gave it the title in order to set in relief the greater skill and better treatment on display in the larger and later De Genesi ad litteram. The earlier work forever exists in the shadow of and by comparison with the later one. Something was already at work that anticipates the later Genesis commentary, but he does not yet name that kind of reading ad litteram. The reason seems clear: in the mid 390s ad litteram was a pernicious and ‘deadly’ way of reading. He did not yet have language to name the experimental non-figurative way of reading whereby one uncovers the mysteries of nature expressed through the text. Augustine theorizes this ‘pernicious’ carnal construction of ad litteram reading in Book 3 of De doctrina Christiana. He warns against embracing merely externally focused perceptions from the Bible, because reading the texts ad litteram brings about a dreaded mors animae, the death of the soul (3.5.9). The phrase gets incorporated with the same resonance into the narrative of Confessiones in two passages, 5.14.24 and 6.4.6, when Augustine recalls his biblical awakening under Ambrose. Before hearing the bishop preach using ‘as a kind of rule’ (quasi regula; Conf. 6.4.6) Paul’s line from 2Cor. 3:6, ‘the letter kills, the spirit gives life’, he had misread the biblical texts in a literal way, ad litteram; that way of reading that had ‘killed’ him, i.e. it had kept him thinking in a material mode that missed the life-giving source of biblical wisdom. However, within three years of writing these passages in Confessiones, he boldly pursues what he thinks of as a non-figurative way of reading Genesis and trumpets it with the phrase ad litteram that he incorporates into his title, De Genesi ad litteram. What accounts for the shift in his understanding of the phrase?

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3. A Changing View of Letter I suggest that a shift in perception of the importance of underlying physical and historical realities relates to a deeper grasp of the importance of historical events in general and of the story of Jesus in particular. It relates to another, positive ad litteram reference during his priestly period prior to De doctrina christiana and Confessiones, its emergence points to his coming shift of perception. This positive ad litteram reference occurs about 394-395 in Augustine’s commentary on Galatians (Expositio epistolae ad Galatas 22). Augustine is in the midst of trying to explain Paul’s statement that Christ ‘redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us’ (Gal. 3:13). Augustine explains that Jesus sent his disciples into the field to glean grain to feed their hunger on a Sabbath day, an infraction of the law; in so doing, he transformed the ad litteram reading of that law that condemned his action. The letter was indeed death-dealing, as Paul had said (2Cor. 3:6); however, the death that it dealt was to Jesus himself, who purposefully put himself in the cross-hairs of the letter’s condemnation so that it would kill him. This act of love overcame the law’s deadly power, and simultaneously revealed the spiritual reality of love that shines through the letter and is its true focus. The spiritual truth and love shining through the death-dealing letter in fact reveals the power of the spirit, not in opposition to the law but through it. This way of seeing through the letter to the spiritual reality of love represents a crucial paradigm change, one that remains potent in Augustine’s teaching (en. Ps. 131.2). The law becomes now an instrument of grace, a transformation that opens new ways of reading the historical, proper, intuitively and rationally confirmable lexical sense of the words of the Bible in a way that avoids the much-feared ‘death of the soul’ and indeed mediates a spiritually charged view of reality. 4. Development Three New Testament texts treated in the years following the Galatians commentary in 394-395, but before beginning De Genesi ad litteram in 401, show a changing template for Augustine’s understanding of how to read Scripture ad litteram. Progressively and collectively they show the flowering of the insight achieved in the Galatians commentary in relation to the littera of Scripture. Two appear in the same critical passage of Augustine’s Ad Simplicianum of 396, and a third in his treatise Contra Faustum from about 398. A. 2Cor. 3:6 The first concerns the shift in Augustine’s understanding of the central hermeneutical text that he first understood from Ambrose, ‘the letter kills but the

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spirit gives life’ (2Cor. 3:6). Isabelle Bochet has well outlined Augustine’s change of perspective on this text in a seminal article that tracks his shift of stress from a textual-hermeneutical reading of this text to a moral-anthropological one, though the first is not abandoned4 (for Augustine’s own account of this shift, see his early [412] anti-Pelagian treatise De spiritu et littera, 4.6). I build upon Bochet’s work, and then ask about the catalyzing force that drove Augustine’s change of perspective. The shift appears clearly first in the Ad Simplicianum, as Augustine discusses the place of the law in Christian life. The law is the letter for those who do not fulfill it through the spirit of love, which is the domain of the New Testament … For what is the law other than a letter, pure and simple, for those who know how to read it but are unable to fulfill it? … Inasmuch as it is known only to the extent that it is read as a piece of writing and not to the extent that it is fulfilled as an object of love, it is nothing but a letter for such persons … This is why it says, The letter kills, but the spirit gives life (2Cor. 3:6). For the law, if it is only read but not understood and not fulfilled, does indeed kill; it is then that it is called ‘the letter’. (Simpl. 1.17)5

B. Christ and John 1:17 This same passage of Ad Simplicianum shows the change of outlook to be driven by a salvation-historical insight of Christology – not a definition of Christology of two natures that anticipates Chalcedon, but rather Augustine’s action-oriented Christology that defines the work of redemption. While explaining the dual power of the law for good and for ill, Augustine propounds a dramatic reading of John 1:17 that contrasts the law of Moses with the grace of Christ. Augustine uses this text to explain how Christ not only redeemed us from the law, but transformed the function of the law itself into an instrument of grace, and this unites the Old and New Testaments. The reading already traditional by Augustine’s time divided John 1:17 into opposing clauses: the law came through Moses, while grace and truth came through Jesus Christ – that reading emphasizes the sequential or adversative positions of the Old and New covenants. (Ambrose, for instance, added sed, ‘but’ or even ‘however’, to strengthen the contrast: however, grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.) But in his idiosyncratic yet grammatical way, Augustine took law, lex, as the subject of both clauses: The law was given through Moses; it [the law] became grace and truth through Jesus Christ [Lex per Moysen data est, gratia et veritas per Iesum Christum facta est; PL 40, 110]. Augustine clearly intended to read it this way, for the point of his discussion 4 Isabelle Bochet, ‘“La lettre tue, l’esprit vivife”: L’exégèse augustinienne de 2 Co 3:6’, Nouvelle Revue Théologique 114 (1992), 341-70. 5 Translated by Boniface Ramsay, Responses to Miscellaneous Questions, WSA 1/12 (Hyde Park, NY, 2008), 184, emphasis in text.

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is that it is the same law that condemns sinners and gives life; to illustrate and support his claim of simultaneity, he invokes Paul’s ‘fragrance’ while preaching the gospel of Christ that is an odor of death to some and the odor of life to others (2Cor. 2:15-6). In this transformation, the historical action of Christ is key: the real human Jesus takes upon himself a genuine curse while undergoing physical-historical death by crucifixion dictated by the ad litteram reading of the law that enacts redemption. That act neutralizes the death-dealing dimension of the law read ad litteram while it also embodies, actualizes, and reveals the liberating love of God. This constitutive historical action of Christ overturned the Manichean claim that the crucifixion story merely taught a moral-spiritual lesson. The reality of Christ’s body is prerequisite in this plan, which enacts the bodily, historical character of redemption. Christ’s historical bodily action transposes the law’s conveyance of condemnation to its conveyance of grace. For believers the moral commands of the law now do not condemn, but, being shot through with the spirit, convey the grace needed to perform its commands, i.e., to love God and neighbor. The ritual law can now be seen to have anticipated prophetically its future fulfillment in Christ, and to unfold its past fulfillment after Christ. C. 1Cor. 8:1 This leads to a third passage that summarizes the integration of letter and spirit accomplished by Christ. Contra Faustum shows the integration of letter and spirit as the foundation of Christian life and the right reading of Scripture. Augustine is attacking Faustus’s rejection of Catholic literal and spiritual understanding of the OT. The true spouse of Christ, whom you insult, understands these things because she asks with groans, seeks with humility, and knocks with meekness, and so she sees that the law is not blamed when it is said, The letter kills, but the spirit gives life (2Cor. 3:6), just as knowledge is not blamed when it is said, Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. For [Paul] had of course said, We know that we all have knowledge, and then he adds, Knowledge puffs up, but loves builds up (1Cor. 8:1). Why, then, did the apostle have what might make him puffed up except that, with love, knowledge not only does not puff up but even gives strength? In that way the letter with the spirit and the law with grace are no longer called the letter and the law in the same way as when, by themselves, they killed as sin abounded. (c. Faust. 15.8)6

The action of Christ has transformed the function of the letter by imbuing it with the spiritus, which doubles as reference to the spiritual depth of the believer and to the source of that depth in the Holy Spirit, who pours out the 6 Translated by Roland Teske, Answer to Faustus, A Manichean, WSA 1/20 (Hyde Park, NY, 2007), 194-5.

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love of God in the heart (Rom. 5:5; Augustine’s objective genitive regards love of God meaning love for God). In so doing Christ, through the Spirit, integrates, penetrates, inhabits, and transforms the letter into a spiritual force. As love transforms knowledge, grace transforms the law and spirit transforms the letter. This created a new paradigm for understanding the letter in the literal reading of Scripture. But it is a letter that has been unfolded by spirit so that the reality being conveyed accords with spiritual perception. 5. On the Way to Reading Ad Litteram In the same way, the reading of the narrative carries a depth that stands in a relationship more or less in tension with the surface meaning, yet both are necessary and must not be opposed. The surface meaning feeds the simple, but also conveys the depths of spiritual mystery (Conf. 12.14.17). Paul Agaësse understands this well in his helpful introduction to the Bibliothèque augustinienne edition of the De Genesi ad litteram.7 Augustine puzzlingly classifies the first chapters of Genesis as history in the sense pursued in the Books of Kings. Agaësse explains that, for Augustine, the events and realities conveyed by the text are ‘transphysical’ and ‘transhistorical’ (transphysique, transhistorique). The act of creation is more than a discrete act that begins a series of discrete acts that include every other event of history, because unlike them it constitutes history: It is a transhistorical act, since it founds history, more than it fits into it … It is a transphysical act since it founds existences and natures themselves, and they proceed from the divine liberty… The act by which God created, and the appearance of the world which is its effect, are part of a mystery (et l’apparition du monde qui en est l’effet relèvent d’un mystère) that human words can translate only in inadequate fashion … To seek out the literal sense is therefore to carry out this effort of reflection which protects against speaking unworthy things of God or at least disregarding his mystery. We reach therefore this paradoxical conclusion that to search the literal sense is to surpass the immediacy of the letter, while still referring to it…8

In other words, the event is foundational and the words that describe it are critical; but words that are immediate to our experience remain inadequate to reach even basal understanding. Spiritual meaning going beyond the mere event to include varieties of meaning discernible to the spiritual eye are necessary to understand the literal sense. Conversion to the spiritual mind is therefore necessary to understand the literal sense. This is the trajectory of Augustine’s development concerning reading ad litteram: the ad litteram reading has ascended from mortally wounding and spiritually threatening the spiritual mind to embrace 7

Paul Agaesse, ‘Introduction’, La Genèse au sens littéral (De Genesi ad litteram), Bibliothèque augustinienne 48 (Paris, 2000), 11-50. 8 Ibid. 39-40. My translation.

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penetration of the event by the spiritual mind. The ad litteram perspective has been rehabilitated from its original purely carnal signification. By the use of ad litteram in the title of his great commentary on Genesis, Augustine intends a both/and rather than either/or. This sense involves a process of transformation whereby the mind is enabled to receive words in their lexical meaning and according to the sense immediate to human experience, and also to transform them from a converted spiritual perspective. Ad litteram readings now stand alongside figurative ones complementarily rather than oppositionally. See, for example, the first sermon of Enarratio in psalmum 103, which toggles back and forth between the two. He points to the apologetic value of the literal fulfillment of prophecies of Scripture in the New Testament, as when Psalm 68 portrays soldiers casting lots for Jesus clothing. Augustine in De Genesi ad litteram insists strenuously on discerning and embracing ad litteram reading in order to ground any figurative reading coming from the text. But a potent example appears in Sermones ad populum: ‘I insist to the utmost of my ability, even making it a command, that you believe what was read happened in just the way it was read, lest in taking away the foundation of a thing that happened [res gestum], you find yourself trying to build upon air [in aere quaeratis aedificare]’ (Sermo 2.7; PL 38, 30; my translation). Conclusion What did Augustine mean by reading texts ad litteram? The answer is complicated by the story of Augustine’s developing perspectives on how to read. It therefore flows with Eugene TeSelle’s recommendation to study Augustine’s thought cinematically.9 Augustine’s understanding of Scripture’s letter, its literal sense as embodied in the phrase ad litteram, changed over time, from opposing and subverting spiritual reading to embodying it. The answer is therefore counter-intuitive. One expects that when Augustine turns to study the literal sense of Genesis in 401, he has finally turned to publicly accountable and credible knowledge based on the plain sense of words whose meaning is immediately and commonly accessible to rational readers, whether they have faith or not. That is the modern view. But this is not merely inadequate; it is mistaken. In line with all his other readings of the Bible, reading the text ad litteram required faith and conversion of mind to a spiritual perspective. Ad litteram readings, like the spiritual readings, are based on faith that asks, seeks, and knocks on the mysterious door of understanding. Paradoxically, one needs to read spiritually in order to discover and understand the literal or ad litteram sense. 9

Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian (New York, 1970), 20.

Augustine’s Evolving Attitudes to the Vetus Latina – Genesis as a Test Case Lal DINGLUAIA, University of Nottingham, UK

ABSTRACT Augustine’s attitude towards Jerome’s translation of the Scripture is complex. Here, using examples from his interpretation of Genesis, I seek to show that Augustine throughout his life showed a preference for the Vetus Latina because of its links to the Septuagint. However, Augustine was willing to depart from the Vetus Latina when use of Jerome’s translation could eliminate a contradiction with theological implications. Moreover, unlike Jerome, Augustine was not willing to reject any translation, even those weaknesses he knew, because he wished to retain each for specific purposes.

Augustine, like most early Christian writers, was fascinated by the Book of Genesis. He returned to its exposition time and again over the course of his life. Because of this long term engagement with this one book, it makes it an ideal screen on which we can see both his evolving attitudes to scriptural translation, and his ideal for a translation and his changing stances to the Vetus Latina as a translation in contrast to the new translation made by Jerome. I. Vetus Latina – A rough sketch of Augustine’s ‘common edition’ of the Scriptures For most Christians in Augustine’s time, Scripturae – referred to as ‘the Bible’ today – denoted manuscripts of separate books and set of books,1 comprising 1 James J. O’Donnell, ‘Bible’, in Augustine Through the Ages: An Encyclopedia, ed. Allan D. Fitzgerald (Michigan, 1999), 99-103, 100; Elsewhere, O’Donnell noted that Augustine’s ‘never laid eyes on a Bible’ since his Scriptures was not a complete set but a ‘physical subsets: a volume of Paul, a Psalter, a book of Gospels, and so forth’, J.J. O’Donnell, Augustine: A New Biography (New York, 2006), 127. Houghton noted that the ‘physical nature of the manuscripts … has a bearing on the analysis of their text, as does the way in which they were used’, H.A.G. Houghton, Augustine’s text of John: Patristic Citations and Latin Gospel Manuscripts (Oxford, 2008), 22. Parker also stressed that the existence of Scriptural texts ‘as a manuscript tradition’ and how it ‘grew freely’ from the beginning is an essential starting point in ‘all questions of interpretation and all theological formulations’ while failing ‘to take account of these two key facts are based on a priori theorising or prejudice, and not on the actual character of the writings’, David C. Parker, The living text of the Gospels (New York, 1997), 203. On how scroll and codex distinguished

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 11-20. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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of the libri testamenti veteris – translated from Hebrew into Greek and the libri testamenti novi – written in Greek.2 This corpus, called the vulgata editio or the ‘common edition’ by the Latin Fathers,3 was translated into Latin4 from the later part of the second century, probably in North Africa.5 The Greek translation of the Old Testament, which became an important source of the vulgata editio, was referred to by Augustine as Septuaginta (LXX) and for which he had a high regard.6 This high opinion was not down to his conviction that it was an accurate translation but because he was intensely conscious of the weight of authority and tradition that was vested upon this inspired translation.7 But the Latin translations, as Jerome was aware, displayed inconsistencies and contained many textual difficulties.8 This prompted Jerome to make an users of the same text/content, see Martin Hengel, The Septuagint as Christian Scripture: Its Prehistory and the Problem of Its Canon (Edinburgh, 2002), 41. 2 See Doc. Chr. 2.8.13. Although one ‘Bible’ having two Testaments is a ‘conventional’ concept today, Pelikan remarked that the ‘emergence of this novel concept … has been correctly called the most momentous event in the history of early Christianity’, Jaroslav Pelikan, Whose Bible is it: A history of the Scriptures through the Ages (New York, 2005), 101. This ‘concept’ paralleled the Father’s ‘principle of scriptural interpretation’. Andrew Louth (ed.), Genesis 1-11, Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, Old Testament I (Downers Grove, IL, 2001), xlvii. 3 Mario Cimosa, ‘Holy Scripture (Ancient Version)’, in Encyclopedia of Ancient Christianity, Vol. 3, ed. James Hoover, 2nd English ed. (Downers Grove, IL, 2014), 514-20, 516; H.A.G. Houghton, Augustine’s text of John (2008), 10; Augustine had secundum vulgatam editionem in civ. Dei 16.10. 4 Burton noted that ‘Loose references to “the Latin Bible” appear to presuppose a single monolithic translation; no such homogeneity has been demonstrated, and the term is therefore misleading’, Philip Burton, The Old Latin Gospels: A study of their texts and language (New York, 2000), 3-4. 5 Ronald E. Heine, ‘The beginnings of Latin Christian Literature’, in Frances Young, Lewis Ayres and Andrew Louth (eds), The Cambridge History of Early Christian Literature (Cambridge, 2004), 131-41, 131; Pierre-Maurice Bogaert, ‘The Latin Bible’, in James C. Paget and Joachim Schaper (eds), The New Cambridge History of the Bible, Vol. 1: From the Beginnings to 600 (Cambridge, 2013), 505-26, 505-6. Unless otherwise stated, all dates/centuries are AD/CE. 6 See Ep. 28.2, Doc. Chr. 2.15.22, civ. Dei 18.42-3 for Augustine’s own account. Modern scholars argued that there is ‘no one Septuagint’, since what Septuagint denoted and included – as well as the texts and editions – widely differed for different faith traditions from the beginning. See James Keltie Aitken (ed.), The T&T Clark Companion to the Septuagint (London, 2015), 1-12; also, Saint Jerome’s Hebrew Questions on Genesis, trans. C.T.R. Hayward (Oxford, 1995), 29 for Jerome’s assertion that ‘only the five Books of Moses were translated by them’, While noting that ‘the label does not characterize the content but represents a reference to the story of its origins’ (M. Hengel, Septuagint as Christian Scripture [2002], 25), we will loosely apply the label for the sake of convenience to what was considered by Augustine as such, as seen in his Doc. Chr. 7 Carol Harrison, ‘Augustine’, in The New Cambridge History of the Bible, Vol. 1 (2013), 67696, 677. Augustine accepted the tradition of the miraculous translation that is found in the Letter of Aristeas. See civ. Dei 18.43; Abraham Wasserstein and David J. Wasserstein, The Legend of the Septuagint: From Classical Antiquity to Today (Cambridge, 2006), 95-131. 8 David L. Everson, ‘The Vetus Latina and the Vulgate of the Book of Genesis’, in Craig A. Evans, Joel N. Lohr and David L. Petersen (eds), The Book of Genesis: Composition, Reception, and Interpretation (Leiden, 2012), 519-36, 520.

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initial revision based on Origen’s version of the LXX (Hexapla) and finally a new translation based on the Hebrew texts.9 After Jerome’s translation10 was designated ‘the Vulgate’ in the sixteenth century,11 any non-Vulgate form became known as the Vetus Latina (VL), the ‘Old Latin’, although this classification is not accurate12 since a number of manuscripts was actually a fusion of VL and Vulgate form.13

II. Augustine’s stance towards the translation of the Vetus Latina and its circulation as Scripture Around 395,14 Augustine wrote the De doctrina Christiana and declared that there were an infinite variety of Latin translations (latinorum interpretum infinita varietas) produced by those who could not read Hebrew and were thus ignorant of the particularities of the language (signa propria). Their eagerness, in Augustine’s eyes, to translate Greek texts into Latin outran their linguistic ability.15 And learning about Jerome’s translation of ‘the sacred canonical writings into Latin’, Augustine sent him a letter (Ep. 28) and urged him to make the translation based on the Septuagint text in Origen’s Hexapla edition.16 Later in their correspondence, Augustine expressed his desire again of seeing a better translation from Jerome to avoid the ‘terrible defects’ of unqualified Latin 9 P. Bogaert, ‘The Latin Bible’ (2013), 514-8. In Ep.112.20 Jerome writes: ut scirent nostri, quid Hebraica Veritas contineret. 10 Again, we must note that ‘Jerome himself did not provide a collected edition of his translations’ but ‘were in circulation in the form of separate codices’, P. Bogaert, ‘The Latin Bible’ (2013), 518. 11 According to Sutcliffe, the word ‘Vulgate’ gradually assumed its modern sense after the Council of Trent. Bogaert observed that referring to Jerome’s translation as the Vulgate was not exactly accurate since the term is anachronistic and misleading, and its previous usage ambiguous. See Edward F. Sutcliffe, ‘The Name “Vulgate”’, Biblica 29 (1948), 345-52, 349; Pierre-Maurice Bogaert, ‘The Latin Bible, c. 600 to c. 900’, in Richard Marsden and E. Ann Matter (eds), The New Cambridge History of the Bible, Vol. 2: From 600 to 1450 (Cambridge, 2012), 69-92, 69. 12 P. Burton, Old Latin Gospels (2000), 6. For the problems of the ‘traditional characterization’ of the Latin Bible into ‘Old Latin’ and ‘Vulgate’, see H.A.G. Houghton, The Latin New Testament: A Guide to its Early History, Texts, and Manuscripts (Oxford, 2016), vii-viii. 13 H.A.G. Houghton, Augustine’s text of John (2008), 5, 10; J.J. O’Donnell, ‘Bible’ (1999), 101; P. Bogaert, ‘The Latin Bible’ (2013), 511. 14 This date is according to R.P.H. Green (ed. and trans.), Augustine: De Doctrina Christiana (Oxford, 1995), xi. 15 Doc. Chr. 2.11.16. The possible outcome is ‘a confusing literalism which contravened acceptable Latin usage’, H.A.G. Houghton, Augustine’s text of John (2008), 6; also H.A.G. Houghton, Latin New Testament (2016), 11. 16 For an overview of the correspondence, see Caroline White, The Correspondence (394-419) between Jerome and Augustine of Hippo (New York, 1995), 1-10. Jerome started translation from the Hebrew in 390. P. Bogaert, ‘The Latin Bible’ (2013), 515.

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translators.17 But, over the course of their correspondence, Augustine radically changed his view of the LXX from one of religious acceptance to a more critical stance which was aware of its defects. In this regard, we can make three related points about Augustine’s stance on the translation of the VL and its circulation as Scripture: 1. Augustine’s preference for a strict and clear translation of words18 It is obvious that Augustine had a large collection of Greek and Latin codices and so was aware of a variety of versions and readings.19 And he explicitly expressed his preference for the Itala but without rejecting other versions. The actual meaning of Itala is unclear20 except that it is a pre-Vulgate text. His account in De doctrina Christiana suggested that he preferred the Itala for its ‘literal rendering’ (nam est verborum tenacior) which tended to follow the words rather than the images. In modern terms, he preferred it because its translation philosophy was that of formal rather than dynamic equivalence.21 He also referred – apparently in approval – to how some Hebrew words like amen and alleluia were preserved in the original form for the sake of its more solemn authority (sanctiorem auctoritatem).22 Here, we can see a common trait evolving – perhaps an awareness of some kind of sacred vernacular – that also corresponds with what we know about the development of the pre-Vulgate Latin text. In tracing the progressive ‘Europeanization’ of the African texts to be a more accurate rendering of the LXX, Fischer noted: ‘What in the second century was still a vulgarism or a rough awkwardness of the translator, could have already become hieratic-solemn expression by the fourth century because of its use in the Scriptures’.23 In other words, a certain degree of authority was ascribed to the traditional rendering of the Scriptures by Augustine’s time. 17

Ep. 82.35. In Doc. Chr. 2.15.22, he stated: In ipsis autem interpretationibus Itala ceteris praeferatur, nam est verborum tenacior cum perspicuitate sententiae. 19 H.A.G. Houghton, Augustine’s text of John (2008), 42, also 24-27. 20 According to Burton, ‘It is impossible to tie the term Itala to a single known tradition; Augustine’s many biblical citations and allusions have not been identified with any one extant manuscript type’, P. Burton, Old Latin Gospels (2000), 6. For a survey of the possible meaning of the Itala, see Bruce M. Metzger, The Early Versions of the New Testament: Their Origin, Transmission, and Limitations (Oxford, 1977), 291-3; H.A.G. Houghton, Augustine’s text of John (2008), 7-8. 21 In Doc. Chr. 2.13.19, he stated: qui non tam verba quam sententias interpretando sequi maluerunt. 22 Doc. Chr. 2.11.16. 23 ‘[W]as im 2. Jh noch Vulgarismus oder grobe Unbeholfenheit des Übersetzers war, konnte etwa im 4. Jh eben durch den Gebrauch in der Hl. Schrift schon hieratisch-feierlich geworden sein’, Bonifatius Fischer, Vetus Latina: Die Reste der Altlateinischen Bibel, 2: Genesis (Freiburg, 1951), 15-6. 18

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2. Augustine’s desire to continue with the familiar – his argument against supplanting the ‘gourd’ with ‘ivy’24 To remedy the ‘uncertainty’ arising from ‘the infinite variety of Latin translations’, Augustine acknowledged the value of being able to read the Hebrew. Yet, he was fundamentally LXX-centred: any correction of Latin manuscripts must be based on the texts of the LXX which was translated by experts in Hebrew and whose authority is ‘supreme’,25 Augustine repeated this assertion in his letter to Jerome in 403 (Ep. 71) where he expressed his preference for the LXX and insisted that the LXX was ‘so widely diffused’ among Latin and Greek churches and that it ‘was used by the apostles’.26 He pointed out the problem caused by Jerome’s translation of the book of Jonah ‘from the Hebrew’, where ‘some unusual expression in the version’ were so different to the one the people were familiar with that it caused an uproar in the North African city of Oea.27 This involved the text of Jonah 4:6 where Jerome supplanted the traditional rendering of ‘gourd’ with ‘ivy’. In reply, Jerome maintained that his translation using ‘ivy’ was correct, and that a ‘literal translation’ would make the text nullus intellegeret and added that the former translation using ‘gourd’ was a misnomer because that is not what the Hebrew says (quod in Hebraico non habetur).28 But his freer translation, with its philological underpinning,29 implies a deviation from the crude/rough word-for-word style of the Vetus Latina.30 In other words, his new translation was a departure from the LXX and its traditional ‘solemn’ rendering in Latin with which Augustine and his audience were familiar with. 3. Augustine’s awareness of living texts While Jerome was pursuing the dream of a past original perfection, Augustine had some notion of living texts.31 For Augustine, ambiguity and obscurity 24

See Ep. 71.3.5; Ep. 112.22.  Doc. Chr. 2.13.19, 2.15.22; see also Ep. 28.2. 26 Ep. 71.6. All the English translations for the letters of Augustine and Jerome were taken from C. White, The Correspondence between Jerome and Augustine (1995). 27 Ep. 71.4, 5. Oea was one of the leading coastal cities of Tripolitania in Africa in modern Libya. See Bukola A. Oyeniyi, The History of Libya, The Greenwood Histories of the Modern Nations (Westport, CT, 2019), 22-6 for the advent of Christianity in Libya. Given the distance from Hippo, how Augustine came to know of the incidence shows the ‘shockwave’ that Jerome’s translation made in his world. 28 Ep. 112.22. In another letter to Pammachius, Jerome wrote: ego enim non solum fateor, sed libera uoce profiteor me in interpretatione Graecorum absque scripturis sanctis, ubi et uerborum ordo mysterium est, non uerbum e uerbo, sed sensum exprimere de sensu. Ep. 57.5. 29 Jerome wanted to promote Scriptures ‘to a public of cultured Roman readers and conscious that the scriptural text, in its Old Latin versions, was an affront to their sensibilities’, Mark Vessey, ‘Jerome and Rufinus’, in The Cambridge History of Early Christian Literature (2004), 318-27, 320. 30 P. Bogaert, ‘The Latin Bible’ (2013), 516. 31 For an introduction to the concept of a ‘living text’, see D.C. Parker, The living text (1997). 25

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are part and parcel of Scriptures.32 He was not looking ‘backward’ for a pure text or for perfect manuscripts to overcome the problems but held that comparing varying translations could shed light in interpreting ‘obscure passages’ and get to the meaning behind the texts.33 The efficacy of this synthesis was also suggested in Augustine’s assertion of the pre-eminence of the LXX when he wrote to Jerome: I would be very surprised if anything could still be found in the Hebrew texts which had escaped the notice of all those translators who were such experts in that language … If these things are obscure, one must suppose that you, too, can be mistaken about them; if they are obvious, it is most unlikely that those translators could have been mistaken about them.34

Augustine repeated this argument when he expressed his suspicion that Jerome ‘can be mistaken occasionally’ simply by insisting on ‘Hebrew truth’.35 Jerome retorted and maintained that he wanted ‘to publish the evidence which had been overlooked or corrupted by the Jews, so that Latin-speakers might know what was really in the Hebrew texts’.36 Although Augustine expressed his agreement with Jerome in this regard, he still insisted that he was ‘very keen to see’ Jerome’s translation of the LXX but avoided introducing the new translation based on the Hebrew text ‘as something new and as a rival to the authority of the LXX’.37 Perhaps Augustine’s own reflection in the Confessiones can summarize his evolving stances to the translation of the VL and its circulation as Scripture. Recounting his initial rejection of the Scripture due to its lack of eloquence and crude anthropomorphism, he said: So, I decided to direct my attention to the Holy Scriptures, to see what they were like … it seemed to me unworthy.38 32

See Doc. Chr. 1.30.31; 2.5.6-6.7. See Doc. Chr. 2.12.17. In Ep. 82.34, Augustine maintains that variety of interpreting many obscure passages ‘in no way conflicts with the unity of the faith; similarly, the obscurity of the text allows the commentator to explain one and the same passage in different ways without diverging from the true faith’. As Houghton rightly observed, for Augustine, variation in the text of the different versions he encountered was ‘a practical rather than a theological problem’, H.A.G. Houghton, Augustine’s text of John (2008), 18, see also 20. 34 Ep. 28.2. See also civ. Dei 18.43. 35 Ep. 71.5. Of course, Jerome’s insistence on Hebrew truth can be miscomprehended. It springs from a genuine ‘theological concerns’ and ‘were not merely philology or historical critical investigations … whatever the name hebraica veritas may suggest’, Paul B. Decock, ‘Jerome’s turn to the Hebraica Veritas and his rejection of the traditional view of the Septuagint’, Neotestamenica 42 (2008), 205-22, 220; C.T.R. Hayward, Jerome’s Hebrew Questions (1995), 14. 36 Ep. 112.20. 37 Ep. 82.34, 35. 38 Conf. 3.5.9. Itaque institui animum intendere in scripturas sanctas et uidere, quales essent … sed uisa est mihi indigna. The English translation of Confessions given here are from Saint Augustine: Confessions, trans. Vernon J. Bourk, FC 21 (Washington, DC, 1953). 33

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After Ambrose convinced Augustine of the ‘deeper meaning’ of Scriptures, he also tenaciously insisted on the veracity of the Septuagint, as he later said: Wonderful is the depth of Thy words; see, how their surface meaning lies before us, attracting us as if we were children: but the depth is wonderful, o my God, the depth is wonderful!39

Therefore, Augustine had a ‘preferred’ version of the VL that was based on his ‘preferred’ Greek text which was rendered by his ‘preferred’ translators in his ‘preferred’ vocabulary.40 Although this unwavering preference has been taken as a negation of Jerome’s Hebrew translations, there are many instances, particularly in his later works, where Augustine quoted from Jerome’s.41 So, how consistent was Augustine in practice? In the next section, we shall attempt to answer this question by looking at how Augustine tried to reconcile the inevitable differences between Jerome’s translation and that of the VL in his exposition of Genesis. III. The Vetus Latina in Augustine’s exposition of Genesis As early as 388/389, Augustine wrote the De Genesi contra Manichaeos, and a little later in 393, he wrote the De Genesi ad litteram imperfectus liber. Moreover, the last three books of Augustine’s Confessiones, written around 397-401, were an exposition of the beginning of Genesis. Then, he laboured for about fifteen years to produce the De Genesi ad litteram. Finally, he again turned to the beginning of the Book of Genesis in book eleven of the De civitate Dei that was written around 416. Augustine’s expositions of Genesis which span his whole ministry exhibit a dynamic interplay between church, scripture and tradition. It was believed that Augustine used the text C of the VL, a derivative of the African text K, in his two early works De Genesi contra Manichaeos and De Genesi ad litteram imperfectus liber.42 In his Confessiones, scriptural quotations 39 Conf. 12.14.17. Mira profunditas eloquiorum tuorum, quorum ecce ante nos superficies blandiens parvulis: sed mira profunditas, deus meus, mira profunditas! For Augustine’s growing familiarity with Scriptural texts, see H.A.G. Houghton, Augustine’s text of John (2008), 18, 45. 40 In fact, Muller asserted that Jerome was revising the Latin Bible translations ‘collectively named the Itala’ before ‘relying directly to the Hebrew text’ while Augustine ‘represent “ecclesiastical traditionalism”’. Mogens Muller, The First Bible of the Church: A plea for the Septuagint (Sheffield, 1996), 84, 89. Augustine still expressing his preference for ‘gourd’ to ‘ivy’ in Ep. 82.35 is a good example. 41 H.A.G. Houghton, Augustine’s text of John (2008), 11, 21. 42 B. Fischer, Vetus Latina (1951), 16, 28. Fisher used the siglum K to denote the text type reconstructed from Cyprian’s scriptural quotations in the VL edition. K was used by Cyprian and the witnesses close to him in pro-consular Africa in the middle of the third century. The text K is uniform and constant until the end of the fourth century, and only slightly changed in C, which denotes the African text about 150 years after Cyprian.

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were not exact and it resembles a patchwork of scriptural texts43 – a work saturated with scriptural language. In the De Genesi ad litteram, he was likely to have a later ‘corrected and revised Latin text’.44 In the De civitate Dei, he probably used a different type of text – a hybrid-LXX45 – as a source for his quotations. His text in these last two works was probably the European text I or it derivative.46 In the De civitate Dei Augustine attempted to reconcile the inevitable differences between his preferred text/s based on the LXX, which he referred to as ‘our own versions’ (nostros codices),47 with that of Jerome’s translation based on the Hebrew. We can take two passages as examples for his contrasting approach. In Book 15.7, Augustine was expounding Genesis 4:6-7 which was about Cain’s anger over his brother Abel because God looked with favour on (respiciens) his sacrifice, while his own sacrifice was despised/overlooked (despiciens). According to the LXX, before he murdered Abel, God rebuked Cain by saying, ‘If your sacrifice is rightly offered, but not rightly divided (recte offeras recte autem non dividas), have you not sinned?’ In explaining this passage, Augustine remarked that it is an ‘obscure’ passage that has given rise to many interpretations.48 Jerome, who picked on these verses when he discussed problem texts in his Quaestiones Hebraicae in Genesim written around 391/2, was one such interpretation. He pointed out that the meaning in Hebrew differed drastically from 43

Gillian Clark, Augustine: The Confessions (Cambridge, 1993), 73. A.V. Billen, The Old Latin Texts of the Heptateuch (Cambridge, 1927), 70. 45 See Tom O’Loughlin, ‘The Controversy over Methuselah’s death: Proto-Chronology and the origins of the Western concept of Inerrancy’, Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale 62 (1995), 182-225, 204, 208, 211. 46 The best account of this is that in B. Fischer, Vetus Latina (1951), 18: ‘Wir nennen diesen Text I, weil er in Italien verbreitet war, von wo ihn AU übernommen hat. Augustinus ist zwischen 393 und 400 von C zu I übergegangen. Er hat aber I nicht einfach angenommen, sondern den Text revidiert, um ihn mit dem Griechischen in möglichste Übereinstimmung zu bringen; sein griechischer Text war eng verwandt mit jenem, den die Septuaginta Hss AFM überliefern, im Gegensatz zur Vorlage der ursprünglichen altlateinischen Übersetzung. Man charakterisiert Augustins Revision am besten, wenn man sagt, er habe eklektisch, jeweils mit den Ausdrücken, die ihm unter den vorliegenden am besten dem Griechischen zu entsprechen schienen, vereinzelt auch mit eigenen Schöpfungen den italischen Text I, für den er sich grundsätzlich entschieden hatte, verbessert. Daher bleibt sein Wortschatz durchaus im Rahmen der übrigen Texte, weist aber mehr Afrikanismen auf. AU scheint auch später noch an seinem Text korrigiert zu haben, besonders als er 419 die Locutiones und Quaestiones in Heptateuchum verfaßte. Bei AU loc ist oft schwer zu entscheiden, ob AU einen lateinischen Text zitiert oder nur lateinisch die Lesarten seiner griechischen Bibel-Hs wiedergibt oder seinen lateinischen Bibeltext nach dem Griechischen korrigiert oder korrigieren will. – Wir geben Augustins revidiertem Text, wenn er von I abweicht, oder wenn er der einzige erhaltene I-Zeuge ist, im Textdruck die Bezeichnung A’. 47 Civ. Dei 15.10. 48 In civ. Dei 15.7, he stated: quia non elucet cur vel unde sit dictum, multos sensus peperit eius obscuritas, cum divinarum scripturam quisque tractator secundum fidei regulam id conatur exponere. 44

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the LXX: the Hebrew says: ‘If you do well, shall your sin be not forgiven?’ But the LXX, in transposing the gender of the Hebrew word for ‘sin’, missed this meaning.49 For Jerome, the ‘obscurity’ of the LXX rendering seems to lie mainly in one’s ignorance of this correct Hebrew text. When Augustine explained this passage in his Contra Faustum Manichaeum around 403, he saw the ‘obscurity’ as a matter of ‘prophetic allegory’.50 Even in the De civitate Dei, he still refused to conform with Jerome’s explication because he believes there is some truth behind the ‘obscurity’ of the passage in the LXX. For Augustine, Cain ‘allegorically’ represented those people/societies who lives ‘according to man’ (qui secundum hominem) which is an antithesis of those who live ‘according to God’ (qui secundum Deum uiuunt) as represented by Abel. Cain’s story also epitomised how the wicked have acted against the good from the very beginning of ‘history’. Hence, this passage is a good example of how Augustine, in quoting the scripture, preferred the familiar VL, even if in this case he know it deviated from the Hebrew.51 As Augustine set to defend the ‘historical truth’52 of Scripture, he touched upon the credibility of longevity of human life as asserted in the Scripture in Genesis 5. He then accounts for the differences between the LXX and the 49 In Quaestiones 4.67, Jerome asserted: Quod autem in LXX interpretibus fecit errorem, illud est, quia peccatum, id est hatath, in hebraeo generis masculini est, in graeco femini, et qui interpretati sunt, masculino illud, ut erat in hebraeo, genere transtulerunt. Here, the Greek form ἥμαρτες is actually masculine gender while the Hebrew hatath ‫ ַח ָ ֣טּאת‬is feminine form. The lack of agreement in gender of the feminine subject ‫ ַח ָ ֣טּאת‬and the masculine predicate make this text difficult. See Abraham Tal, BHQ: Introduction and Commentaries on Genesis (Stuttgart, 2015), 87*; see also C.T.R. Hayward, Jerome’s Hebrew Questions (1995), 121-2. 50 Civ. Dei 15.7; Contra Faustum 12.9. 51 The variety of versions Augustine used and how his own citations differs can be seen in the following: In Contra Faustum, Augustine wrote: si recte offeras, recte autem non dividas, peccasti. quiesce; ad te enim conversio eius, et tu dominaberis illius. The LXX version quoted by Jerome in Quaestiones said: Et dixit Dominus ad Cain Quare concidit vultus tuus? Nonne si recte offeras, non recte autem dividas, peccasti? Quiesce: ad te conversio eius, et tu dominaberis eius. According to Jerome, the MSS had: ait enim Dominus ad Cain Quare irasceris et quare concidit vultus tuus? Nonne si bene egeris, dimittetur tibi, et si non bene egeris, ante fores peccatum tuum sedebit, et ad te societas eius: sed tu magis dominare eius. In the Vulgate, we see: dixitque Dominus ad eum quare maestus es et cur concidit facies tua? Nonne si bene egeris, recipies sin autem male statim in foribus peccatum aderit, sed sub te erit appetitus eius et tu dominaberis illius. In civ. Dei, Augustine quoted: Et dixit Dominue ad Cain, Quare tristis factus es et quare concidit facies tua? Nonne si recte offeras, recte autem non dividas, peccasti? Quiesce: ad te enim conversio eius, et tu dominaberis illius. 52 In civ. Dei 15.8, he stated: Nunc autem defendenda mihi videtur historia. O’Loughlin remarked that it was important to Augustine’s ‘whole theology that Gen 1-6 be a factual historical account and so every possible challenge had to be taken up’, T. O’Loughlin, ‘The Controversy over Methuselah’s Death’ (1995), 209.

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Masoretic Text’s rendering of the ages of the first eight generations. For the first seven of these, Augustine does not consider it a serious problem. It is a matter of scribal errors because the total numbers of years agree in each of them in the end. The numerical discrepancy between the two versions was more severe when it comes to Methuselah’s age. According to the LXX version, Methuselah would have lived fourteen years beyond the Flood which would contradict the assertion that only eight escape destruction of the Flood in the Ark and Methuselah was not one of them.53 Since both versions cannot be true to the facts – and following the Hebrew version would avoid the awkward problem of Methuselah’s survival of the Flood – Augustine concluded that the translated version must conform to the original Hebrew version.54 Behind this admission was the larger theoretical supposition that there could not be a real contradiction in Scriptural text as the text is from God.55 The other implication, which is an offshoot of this assumption is that the Hebrew version is a uniquely correct text while any contradiction with it will be an error of the translated version. So, discrepancy in one case highlighted by Jerome could be ignored, but in another had to be acted upon. IV. Conclusion Augustine’s exposition of Genesis in the De civitate Dei signalled some changes in his approach to the VL, particularly given his staunch ‘preference’ for the Itala. In general, Augustine seems to resist Jerome’s attempt to base his new translation on Hebrew if it was only on the ground of philology or the literary form, especially if he saw allegorical value. But when an alteration of the content had theological significances (scripture as internally consistent, for example, as in the case of Methuselah’s age), he was willing to make concessions to the authority of the Hebrew version. Ironically, it was also in the De civitate Dei where Augustine reaffirmed the status of the LXX as an inspired translation.56 This clearly reflected Augustine’s strong attachment to the VL. So, despite his knowledge of the problems, these were not sufficient to make him deviate from that attachment.

53 Civ. Dei 15.11. In Quaestiones 5.25-7, Jerome asked, ‘et quo modo uerum est quod octo tantum animae in arca saluae factae sunt?’ See also 1Pet. 3:20. 54 In civ. Dei 15.13, Augustine stated: recte fieri nullo modo dubitauerim, ut, cum diversum aliquid in utrisque codicibus invenitur, quando quidem ad fidem rerum gestarum utrumque esse non potest verum, ei linguae potius credatur, unde est in aliam per interpretes facta translatio. 55 T. O’Loughlin, ‘The Controversy over Methuselah’s Death’ (1995), 184. 56 See civ. Dei 18.43.

Questioning the Questions on the Heptateuch Mark W. ELLIOTT, Glasgow, UK

ABSTRACT This article was given as part of a workshop on ‘Beyond and Behind Alexandria and Antioch’ at the XVIIIth Oxford Patristics conference, which overall aimed to offer soundings in favour of a more subtle taxonomy of patristic hermeneutics. In this article, first, a brief account of the question and answer genre (Erotapokriseis) in Christian antiquity is considered. Among other things works of this genre aimed to clarify how the biblical text could be believed to be without mistakes and contradictions. Important was the practical usefulness of the excerpted/epitiomized exegetical teaching. Turning to Augustine, particularly on the foundational books of biblical religion, the Heptateuch, scriptural interpretation was not completely allegorical but rather figurative and metaphorically sensitive. The Quaestiones in Heptateuch in many places provide concrete, detailed application to the Christian community: the Israelite religion is viewed as one of grace as power for (holy) living, extended and transmitted through cross and sacrament even as there is a continuity between OT and NT. Just as grace works with and through nature, so the spirit can be found in and through the letter.

The question and answer genre (Erotapokriseis) ‘Genre’ often seems too general a category to apply to whole books of the bible, for each biblical book itself may in fact contain several genres: for example, Exodus includes narrative, song-poetry, law, etc. Furthermore, it is perhaps a recognition of the fragmentary nature of books in their origins that even the most continuous of commentaries, or set of homilies, tend to focus on inspirational verses or even problematic ones rather than on the meaning of larger units. To a possible category of ‘inspirational in their being problematic’ belong verses like Psalm 36:9 (In Lumine Tuo Videbimus Lumen). The task of the Erotapokriseis is to look in detail at the level of phrases in order to make sense of them, rather than assume that these issues can be dealt with sufficiently by offering some general rules to the reader in an introduction. ‘In addition to opposing views of adversaries, we should think of obscure words or passages, seemingly inappropriate ones, impossibilities, as well as inconsistencies and discrepancies (things that go against the ἀκολουθία or coherence of the text). The integrity of the text is at stake; the problems should be solved in order to justify the author’.1 Eusebius 1 Bas ter Haar Romeny, ‘Questions-and-Answer Collections in Syriac Literature’, in Annelie Volgers and Claudio Zamagni (eds), Erotapokriseis. Early Christian Question-and-Answer Literature

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 21-31. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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was the first among Christians to write such a work of questions and answers. Lorenzo Perrone helpfully traces how Eusebius focuses on the beginnings and end of Jesus’ earthly life,2 for which working with the literal sense is essential. Eusebius was perhaps the first to formalize secular rhetorical approaches for Christian biblical scholarship, adapting them for homiletical and apologetic ends, in the sense of convincing those already of the faith, not the likes of Porphyry. However, if the honour of the text is at stake and the task at first an apologetic one, the end result might have as much to do with spiritual upbuilding. When one considers the approach of Evagrius, raising a question about a text with the hope of revealing truth through that text approximates to the experience of divination. So from their early use in the Christian church scholia were not just academic exercises in tricky orthography, grammar and syntax but could be useful and corrective for the soul, as in those described as antirrheticos – that is texts employed to contradict demonic logismoi: these particular types of scholia are actually quite rare in Evagrius on the Psalms (only on Psalms 91 and 126 and possibly at Psalm 118:71 and 25:9) unlike in Proverbs where they are much more common.3 Nevertheless, there are fourteen scholia on the Psalms that have to do with compunction and humility, and eight to encourage persons in distress. For the more mature believer it is about trying to communicate to others the pithy truth of the Psalms or Proverbs. Hence, according to Luke Dysinger, ‘… whereas the praktikos employs the weapons of the Antirrhetikos in the battlefield of his own soul, the gnostikos discovers in the Scholia on Psalms healing texts which are not only therapeutic for himself but which may also be offered to the diverse of people who seek his advice’.4 Proverbs is still at the level of ‘praktike’, but with Ecclesiastes one raises one’s eyes from sensible to intelligible (physike). This means a journey from (roughly) Ethics (including the operations of virtue and vice/demon expulsion), to the Contemplation of Creation. ‘Evagrius’ symbolic definitions of individual words are very frequent, often giving collections of scholia the appearance of glossaries which contain lists of

in Context (Leuven, 2004), 145-64. Cf. G. Bardy, ‘La littérature patristique des “Quaestiones et Responsiones” sur l’Écriture sainte,’ RB 41 (1932), 515-37, 536-7. 2 Lorenzo Perrone, ‘Le Quaestiones evangelicae di Eusebio di Caesarea. Alle origini di un genere letterario’, ASE 7 (1990), 417-35, 421: ‘Dal punto di vista del metodo esegetico, le Questioni sono l’opera di uno studioso preoccupato di risolvere le difficoltà dei testi evangelici, senza fare ricorso alla comoda scappatoia dell’ interpretazione allegorica. Solo dopo aver messo in luce il senso letterale, Eusebio può talora presentare una spiegazione allegorica.’ See also Lorenzo Perrone, ‘Questions and Responses’, in Paul Blowers and Peter Martens (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation (New York, Oxford, 2019), 198-209. 3 Luke Dysinger, Psalmody and Prayer in the Writings of Evagrius Ponticus (New York, Oxford, 2007), 146-9, responding to Géhin in his introduction to the SC 140 volume. 4 L. Dysinger, Psalmody and Prayer (2007), 149.

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biblical terms together with their spiritual “translation”’.5 As Dysnger implies, one is working from the ground level of particular meaning to something more universal. Augustine Casiday observes: ‘To return to the scholia as such, Evagrius often uses them to exposit the deep meaning of a given passage through allegory … with an opportunity to say something about Jesus Christ … the “real” meaning of Scripture’.6 It might come as a surprise that, unlike Origen, Evagrius does not seem to have attempted scholia on the Song of Songs, but it is possible that he would have found it too full of imagery to suit his view of the highest form of Christian life as aniconic and beyond all means of description. Also, for Evagrius, it is the Psalms that seem to take over the job of ‘advanced physike’ of Ecclesiastes-Qohelet.7 ‘Evagrius’ symbolic definitions of individual words are very frequent, often giving collections of scholia the appearance of glossaries which contain lists of biblical terms together with their spiritual “translation”’.8 As Dysinger implies, one is working from the ground level of particular meaning towards something more universal. Augustine Casiday observes: ‘To return to the scholia as such, Evagrius often uses them to exposit the deep meaning of a given passage through allegory … with an opportunity to say something about Jesus Christ … the “real” meaning of Scripture’.9 It might come as a surprise that unlike Origen Evagrius does not seem to have attempted scholia on the Song of Songs, but it is possible that he would have found it too full of imagery to suit his view of the highest form of Christian life as aniconic and beyond all means of description. Also, for Evagrius, it is the Psalms that seem to take over the job of ‘advanced physike’ of Ecclesiastes-Qohelet.10 Now if we admit that Evagrius viewed his task as one of moral theology in the sense of advancement in spiritual virtue, as we turn to Augustine we can say that his approach was explicitly more like that of Eusebius than Evagrius, at least on the first seven books of the bible. It is more about being apologetic for the text than it is for the upbuilding of the reader, at least in its clear purpose. Yet tacitly, the good of the soul is to be a product of the exegetical task, if only one remembers that the text that sanctifies has the highest sanctity and deserves the highest respect. 5

Ibid. 69. Augustine Casiday, Reconstructing the Theology of Evagrius Ponticus. Beyond Heresy (Cambridge, 2014), 36. 7 Evagrius’ Scholia appear to have been written just after his Kephalaia Gnostica, see Julia Konstantinovsky, Evagrius Ponticus: The Making of a Gnostic (Farnham, Burlington, VT, 2009), 25. 8 L. Dysinger, Psalmody and Prayer (2007), 69. 9 Augustine Casiday, Reconstructing the Theology of Evagrius Ponticus. Beyond Heresy (Cambridge, 2014), 36. 10 Evagrius’ Scholia appear to have been written just after his Kephalaia Gnostica; see J. Konstantinovsky, Evagrius Ponticus (2009), 25. 6

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Augustine’s spiritual hermeneutics and the Pentateuch Augustine is known as the doctor of grace. Of course he is also known to be partial to a spot of allegory, not least the unashamedly allegorical interpretation of the Song of Songs 4:2 (‘Your teeth are like a flock of sheep just shorn, coming up from the washing. Each has its twin; not one of them is alone’). Scripture has difficult places. Obscurity should erode the pride of the one who thinks he can understand all mysteries without effort: edomandam labore superbiam et intellectum a fastidio renovandum.11 The teeth are those doctors of the church which make sure that there is nothing indigestible and possibly harmful in the truth that is ingested by the church: the truth needs to be fed in digestible chunks. However, when one shifts to the tenor of the simile, it itself is metaphorical: the sheep are the baptised, and ‘sheep’ is so often used in the Scriptures for the people of God that perhaps it is less than fully metaphorical, well on the way to being a dead metaphor. In any case, even if here is a flagship example of Augustine’s rejoicing in allegorical interpretation, however it is a very detailed and particular form of that style. Assuming that the bride is the church, then it is actually in a sense quite ‘literal’ to think of her teeth as having such a meaning. Again, this is not fully allegorical, once one accepts the premise that this is a poem about Christ and the people of God, which the vast majority of those who accepted the Song of Songs’ canonicity. An expanded literal sense avant la lettre, perhaps. Moving two decades on in Augustine’s career to 419, it was then that he took on a very different task regarding a very different kind of Scripture, namely the clarification of the first five Books of the Law plus Joshua and Judges. One finds that his treatment of the Heptateuch (the books of Genesis to Judges) is more reminiscent of, say, later Irish Penitentials’ use of Scripture12 in the amount of attention to Old Testament scriptural detail by which the individual and community are encouraged to judge themselves lest they be judged, albeit that one would not want to press the similarities between Augustine and the Irish monks too far. This is more ‘law’ (rather than ‘spirit’ or ‘grace’) that we would expect from the doctor gratiae, but the point is that the Old Testament law provides principles for which application can be made in a detailed and concrete way to the present church full of sinners. Composed just when the Pelagian controversy had died down for a short while with the silencing of Pelagius the previous year, before being taken up again by Julian of Eclanum during the following year, it is not without interest that Augustine used this hiatus to work on the Pentateuch rather than on the themes of the gospel and salvation. The Quaestiones (often taken together with the stylistic and philological sister-work, the Locutiones) is still a work largely ignored by the 11

De Doctrina Christiana II,6. R. Kottje, Studien zum Einfluss des Alten Testamentes auf Recht und Liturgie des früheren Mittelalters (6.–8. Jahrhundert), Bonner Historische Forschungen 23 (Bonn, 1970). 12

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Handbooks (receiving hardly a mention in the Augustinus Handbuch13). Now R.J. Teske14 (‘following Pollastri’s ‘Introduzione generale’ to her Italian translation15) considers that Augustine wrote it in preparation for attempting books XV and XVI of the City of God. However, given that his discussion (of a question and answer nature) in these chapters of the City of God hardly reaches the end of Genesis and is concluded by one section (43), which treats the Moses to David period in barely a few hundred words, Teske’s connection it not such a plausible one. It seems more obvious to see it simply continuing what the Literal Questions on Genesis had started in 415. In terms of manuscript transmission the main area of interest is the phenomenon that Augustine’s questions on Leviticus 1-4 appear in only a few manuscripts, having most likely fallen out long before Cassiodorus and Eugippus; there is internal evidence in the discussion of Leviticus 5-6 onwards for the original presence of the questions on Leviticus 1-4, as well as the number of manuscripts that do contain this part. No explanation of any real substance is offered by Weidmann in his study of this. It would seem that the Locutiones, which concern themselves with matters of biblical language and style, occasionally refer back to Quaestiones and so were written shortly afterwards. Wilhelm Rüting argued that Augustine probably wrote the Locutiones after he finished the Quaestiones to each biblical book, although the manuscripts do vary in their witness to the question of priority.16 Likewise Augustine’s Latin text follows the Greek Alexandrinus but with many exceptions; he uses Jerome’s ‘Vulgate’ but not slavishly, such that the Old Testament translation is a ‘mixed’ text. The Content of the Quaestiones In his Retractions Augustine commented on the Quaestiones: ‘I set forth the matters that are discussed in them as questions to be asked rather than the solutions to questions, although I think that most things were treated in them so that they can also rightly be considered to have been resolved and explained’.17 He is not pretending to have answered every question, even if most. The assumption 13 V.H. Drecoll (ed.), Augustinus Handbuch (Tübingen, 2007). See instead A. Pollastri, ‘Le Quaestiones di Agostino su Genesi’, Annali di storia dell’esegesi 5 (1988), 57-76; F. Cocchini, ‘Le Questioni di Agostino sull’ Esodo’, Annali di storia dell’esegesi 5 (1988), 77-95. 14 Roland J. Teske, ‘Augustine of Hippo and the Quaestiones et Responsiones Literature’, in A.E.C. Volgers and C. Zamagni (eds), Erotapokriseis (2004), 127-44. 15 Alessandra Pollastri, ‘Introduzione generale’, in Sant’Agostino: locuzioni e questioni sull’ettateuco: questioni sulla Genesi: questioni su Esodo. Nuova Biblioteca Agostiniana, opere esegetiche 11/1 (Roma, 1997). 16 Wilhelm Rüting, Untersuchungen über Augustins Quaestiones und Locutiones in Heptateuchum (Paderborn, 1916), 14. 17 Retr. II 55 (82),1: scripsi etiam libros Quaestionum de libris eisdem divinis septem, quos ideo appellare sic volui, quia ea quae ibi disputantur magis quaerenda proposui quam quaesita dissolvi,

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is that Scripture is difficult to understand as he earlier admitted in De doctrina Christiana II 6, although now possibly in the spirit of 2Pet. 3:16. Francesca Cocchini claims at least on the evidence of Questions on Exodus 4:24-6: (the angel of the) Lord was about to kill the son of Moses until the circumcision by Zipporah) that there was an anti-Donatist agenda in the reading against the Vulgate’s ‘the Lord was about to kill Moses’. The point is that the circumcision there works as protection, which Donatists did not recognise in the church’s baptism. Yet of course this perhaps fits the Pelagians better than the Donatists: in Augustine’s view each group similarly invalidated baptism while for different reasons. This commentary, or more accurately the series of Questions and Answers that does not cover every verse, seems unlike much of the rest of Augustine’s oeuvre, first in its being less than fluently rhetorical (although Augustine in his preface to his Questions on Genesis says he wrote it in a hurry, which might well be reason enough for the rough style, and he possibly wrote it in parallel with his questions on the other Heptateuchal books18) and second, in its full determination to see an ecclesiological necessity of (moral) order (not least in the light of Donatism and Pelagianism). So to repeat, is this a case of Augustine’s letting law be law and gospel be gospel? Well not really, in that the Mosaic law is in full continuity with the way of the new covenant, what Thomas Aquinas will later call nova lex, it is a form of the gospel. As Augustine famously put it in On the Spirit and the Letter (412), as summarised in his Retractions (429) II 37, The Old Testament indeed witnesses to a religion of grace but it witnesses by what it lacks.19 Religious observance was of key importance for Augustine, and that meant getting the details of observance right. In order to do that first one had to be aware of what the details signified at a deeper theological level. It was the case that in Scripture there were not only signa propria as ‘signes indicateurs’ but also signa translata as ‘signes mediateurs’ – i.e. a conjunction of res and signum, in quasi-sacramental form, as seems clear from as early as De catechizandis rudibus. The Tyconian principle or rule of totus Christus that when Scripture speaks of Christ it speaks of his church and vice-versa allows for the Church to share in Christ’s fulfilment of the Law at the same time as it means that Christ fully shared in the church’s sin.20 The cry of dereliction of Psalm 21 quamvis multo plura in eis mihi videantur ita pertractata, ut possint etiam soluta et exposita non immerito iudicari. 18 So, Lenain De Tillemont, as reported by Clemens Weidmann, ‘Zwei Lücken in den Quaestiones in Heptateuchum des Augustinus I-V: Eine Lücke am Beginn der Quaestiones in Leviticum’, Revue des études augustiniennes et patristiques 53 (2007), 113-39. 19 Ideo tamen mihi congruens visum est, quod a carendo appellatas cerimonias, quasi carimonias memoria tenebam, eo quod observantes careant his rebus a quibus se abstinent. Quod si est origo alia huius nominis, quae abhorret a vera religione. See Paula Frederiksen, Augustine and the Jews: A Christian Defense of Jews and Judaism (New Haven, 2008). 20 Michael Cameron, Christ Meets Me Everywhere: Augustine’s Early Figurative Exegesis, Oxford Studies in Historical Theology (New York, 2012), 241-5.

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where this is the humanity of Christ voicing the condition of the church was a big turning point for Augustine’s getting a fuller understanding of the humanity of Christ, while the Contra Faustum saw his view going beyond that of the cross as symbolic of world suffering and its overcoming (1Tim. 2:5: unus enim Deus unus et mediator Dei et hominum homo Christus Iesus – where it is Christ as man who mediates) ‘to grasp the cross as sacramentum’. This comes into its own throughout the Enarrationes in Psalmos: also the sacramentum of the cross in Expositio qu. Rm. 32-4 is significant. Christianity is not a network of concepts pointed towards by historical events in scripture but is a religion of grace present as a force in the lives of those forming the city of God. Qu. Exod. 177 teaches that God commanded there, even in the desert, things to happen that had sacramental significance for living religion. One might well argue that Augustine’s is a more down-to-earth reading even of certain mystical passages such as Exod. 3:14. Joseph Lienhard admits this much. Augustine stays very sober at the point. As his article written as an overview of the work Lienhard sought to illustrate that; Instances of true allegory are rare. Augustine has one such passage, about the water from the rock in Numbers (20.11). The wasteland of the desert is this world. We thirst on a waterless road when we desire justice. The rock in the wasteland is Christ, a detail that Paul had already added. Moses struck the rock twice, for there are two pieces of wood in the cross.21

If there is to be allegory it has to go through the NT, where the NT has already made that connection. And it is not the case that there is a ladder to climb up to God by means of some mystical sense of words in a biblical text. In other words the ‘water from the Rock’ or a mystical text like Exod. 3:14 are principally about the Christian life As Lienhard tells us: Augustine treats Exodus 3.14 often, and in quite distinctive ways. In one instance, he sees it as a demonstration of God’s incomprehensibility. ‘What mind can grasp, “I am who I am”?” he writes. God then added a name that could be grasped and said, “I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” (Tractate on the Gospel of John 38.8.3) Elsewhere he interprets the name as describing God’s immutability. (Sermon 6:4, On the nature of the good) A consequence of God’s immutability is the fact that we use only the present tense of God, never the past or the future. (Tractate on the Gospel of John 99.5.2).22

Immutability means that God is ‘most present’ in the here and now of the church. A name is given in Exodus that is defined in terms of the names of the patriarchs, which in turn connects to his New Testament ‘seed’. Even if God is truly immutable and outside time, nevertheless he wishes to relate in time and to be known in his so relating. 21 Joseph T. Lienhard, S.J., ‘The Christian Reception of the Pentateuch: Patristic Commentaries on the Books of Moses’, Journal of Early Christian Studies 10 (2002), 373-88, 383. 22 Ibid. 380.

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In contradistinction to Origen one does not need to resort to allegory to achieve grace-filled interpretation and spiritual ascent through the spiritual senses: what gives the power of grace for Augustine is the connection to the NT. The propitiatory in the tabernacle might remind the Israelites that mercy surpasses justice, but the cross of Christ and the eucharist realise that mercy in the liturgical action. Yet just how does Augustine’s literal approach work? To take an example of a ‘difficult’ text: Quaestio in Exodum 164 deals with Exod. 34:6: ‘You shall not cook a lamb in mother’s milk’. Augustine is enough of a respecter of texts that he knows this is a straight repeat of Exod. 23:19. In his treatment of that earlier ‘same’ passage (Qu. Exod. 90) he was clear that there is not much evidence of such a practice going on in either Israelite or pagan culture of the time. He admits it might just be a poetic way of stating the humanitarian principle not to slaughter life in the short period between birth and weaning. Now, where it cannot be well related to any historical events, then it is fair game for handling as pointing forward to Christ and the church. However just as important is that the rock and its hollow existed, so too there must have been something intended, there must have been something which it was proscribing – presumably non-humanitarian treatment of young animals: the fact that Christ spoke the parables is itself historical narrative, even if the parables themselves are not. These precepts were not given without a reason – albeit that we just don’t always know what it was – and in those cases one has to focus on present-day application, with help from the New Testament. It is literalism in the sense of the interpreter having to find an application to the church that is as precise as possible. Now it is of high importance to Augustine that the searching after the spirit and not the letter that kills is neither disregarding the Old Testament (Marcion, Manichees) nor spiritualising its words (Philo, Origen), but even within the Spirit adding grace to nature, grace which relies on Christ but works its way back to those of faith in the far past as well into the far future. Hence at Qu. Exod. 73 the quotation even cited verbatim in the 1992 Catechism of the Catholic Church: ‘The new is latent in the old and the old latent in the new’: well, the context of this is Exodus 20:19 as the lemma: “Speak to us yourself and do not let God speak to us, lest we ever die” Augustine comments: ‘It is often and firmly indicated that fear belongs rather to the Old Testament just as love does to the New, although the New is hidden in the Old and the Old is revealed in the New’. Fear and love are keywords for both testaments, operating less in dialectical relationship and more by way of mutual reinforcement. So it is not so much or just a hermeneutical principle, as it is one that has to do with hearing the God of before, middle and end whose love inspires fear and love. It might well be revealing that the two places in the Quaestiones where Augustine wanted to revise in his Retractions (or at least supplement what he had to say in the whole) concerned Leviticus: first, Lev. 15:11 (Q52) says that

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the High Priest after intercourse would remain ‘unclean until evening’. Augustine points out that this is not ‘through evening’ merely until evening, so that even if incontinent that day one could offer incense as the sun set. It is not hard to imagine that Augustine is thinking of his own diocesan priests, most of them married, and perhaps after siesta time one only has to wait until compline for the priest to be able to take a service. Another sensible way around the problem is to be found also in relation to Lev. 21:11 (Qu. Lev. 81): the new High Priest surely cannot go to father’s funeral if he is to offer incense later that day. Augustine explains that not all successor to the High Priest are literally sons. Cases of Priests sometimes having to leave the sanctuary can be seen in 1Macc. 9-16. Again, there is something all a bit ‘churchy’ about this. Even the huge excursus on temple furniture including the dimensions of the hanging while partly for aesthetic reasons, as well as having the function of showing how the biblical account had verisimilitude might have some tacit application for Augustine’s churches, even if he doesn’t spell this out. Likewise the details on Numbers 3 about the hyacinth-coloured cloth doing the covering rather than being the thing that gets covered (Qu. Nu. 8) seems fussy, but may well allude to something of contemporary importance. To offer a quick flavour of what Augustine did with the equally challenging yet foundational fourth Book of the Law, the Questions on Numbers soon appear to be less than promising as sources for spiritual wisdom when Augustine starts wondering whether each tribe appointing chiliargoi implies there were ‘12 × 1000’ Israelites, hence 12,000 Israelites only, which would be a lot fewer than the bible elsewhere reports. No, for the bible elsewhere teaches that there were many more people. Additionally he wants to explain the mysterious book-keeping method whereby each individual is to be counted in terms of captain, family, tribe, as having numerological significance of 5 × 4 = 20. There is something of a correspondence in numbers of what we know, but where it doesn’t make a lot of sense (for what kind of census would want such information?), it more likely has a spiritual meaning. That provides an opportunity to listen hard to what might be said to the present-day community. Yet it is not all bowing before the mystery. Sometimes sense can be made of apparent contradictions. The stranger (allogenes) who comes near the sanctuary in Numbers 1:51 is someone who is not a Levite, and is not someone who has just walked into the camp (which would be allophulos). Yet where this is repeated in Numbers 3;1, how does that square with Leviticus 6:18: ‘one who touches the tabernacle will be sanctified’? Augustine asks this but is willing that the latter where touching is positive concerns the Levites only. That apparent contradiction one is thus easily explained. Also, Numbers 5:6 requires restitution (for the theft of an item) of 120% of the thing stolen while Exodus 22:1 suggests 400%, but perhaps in the Numbers’ case it is more about unintentional unjust gain that is meant (Qu. Nu. 10). The

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point is that the whole system is rational and displays order, if one looks carefully enough. The numerology of the numbers of people is an exception. The perfection of a law code reflects the perfect mind of the divine legislator working in tandem with wise men. Those who think this is a cruel God of the Old Testament who is portrayed in these biblical books do not realise that anyone deserves great evil when things about to fall are cast down; after all, what is mortal dies (mortalesque moriuntur). Yet in Qu. Jos. 9 (on Joshua 7) there has been the qualification, ‘but God, who even after death is able to liberate or destroy’, so that while ‘burning with fire’ for the one who steals devoted things must surely mean ‘Gehenna would receive him after this life’. Yet Joshua himself in Joshua 5:25 decided that the disobedient one should be stoned. Here one can see the influence of New Testament teaching with reference to 1Corinthians 3:15 (which Augustine interprets to mean a more total judgement in which children might be included, but that death will be better for them spiritually speaking). Somehow stoning is the equivalent of a penitential mercy, to atone for at least some sinfulness. Conclusion Joseph Lienhard’s offered examples in his preface to his recent translation23 seem to point towards a thesis of a moralising of ritual in Augustine’s interpretation, to the point that morality takes over as the focus of Augustine’s interest. For lying and the theme of deceit in sin/transgression is an obvious way of keeping continuity with the Questions on the early chapters on Genesis, where duplicity abounds. There is something in that, but it could be that there always was an insistence that the moral is tied up with the ritual elements from Exodus to Deuteronomy, and Augustine has more discovered than invented that. If Augustine’s churches were indeed ‘communities of forgiveness’, then the rituals for dealing with moral failure in all its shapes and sizes mattered just as much as moral instruction. In the context of ritual atonement, Qu. Lev. 20 on Leviticus 7:7, concerns the chattat and asham, well the former (Latin delictum) is desertio boni, whereas the latter (Latin peccatum) is perpetratio mali, and there follows a long discussion about the degrees of moral culpability. The moral and the ritual are intertwined. As for positive ethics, there is originality in his interpretation of Leviticus 19:13 where he makes it clear that proximus means a fellow human being, and should not be restricted to mean just one’s own kin, to whom one has a recognised duty of care. However Scripture’s own morality should always be kept in mind. What is supremely important with echoes of his debate with Jerome is the reliability of 23 Joseph T. Lienhard, S.J. (ed.), Writings On The Old Testament, Works of Saint Augustine (New York, 2016).

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Scripture. As is well known, when it came to interpreting Galatians 2 Jerome’s estimation of apostolic holiness and unity of doctrine meant that one could not take the report of a fight between Peter and Paul as an accurate one: it simply had to be a mock debate with pretend anger and pretend deep disagreement. However for Augustine it was much more important that Scripture’s account of things not be doubted. It is not getting the history right for the sake of history but for the sake of the perfection of the witness. Here too, Scripture needs to be recognised as trustworthy in its accounting, so that when it commands something to the church, the church knows that Scripture connects with real world, including its fallen reality, and offers light in the darkness. For Scripture works ‘like lamps in the night of this world’s age so that we might not remain in darkness’.24 That seems to be the point of this work of apologetics, for which there was to be less room in The City of God. It relates to the real world of then long ago, and that is clear enough in enough cases once most or many apparent inconsistencies can be reconcile or explained. Therefore it relates to the world now, as a tool of the living God for the particular people of God, giving both wisdom (law) and comfort and orientation (ritual).

24

HomJn 35,9; quoted by J. Lienhard, Writings On The Old Testament (2016), Intro, x.

Speechless and Searching: Augustine’s Understanding of Infancy Jillian MARCANTONIO, Duke University, Durham, NC, USA

ABSTRACT This essay explores infancy as an Augustinian image for the posture of a theologian, as seen in the opening passages of Confessions and demonstrated in De Trinitate. In Confessions, Augustine interweaves his life with his meditations on God, linking the search for self and the search for God. Confessing autobiographical events and periods to God in order to praise and know God is a central theme that he outlines at the outset of the work. Quite naturally, he starts his search for self at his beginnings and infancy, a time in his life which offers more questions than answers. Even in this, Augustine looks for God, a task which likewise offers more questions than answers. His discussion of infants, their speechlessness, and their consistent seeking provide a lens to understand his theological project. In seeking God, Augustine portrays himself as an infant and demonstrates that any who desire to know and praise God should take on the speechless seeking of infants. Unlike the search for his own infancy, however, Augustine does not give up on the search for God. Shortly after writing Confessions, he turns to the search from a slightly different angle in De Trinitate, again connecting the knowledge of God and of self. Augustine looks within himself as he searches for an adequate metaphor for the Trinity. Not a chronological look at life, De Trinitate provides a model for how Augustine takes on the speechless searching of infants as he comes to know God.

In the opening paragraphs of Confessions, Augustine ponders God and his relationship to God, weaving together scriptural quotations and his own thought process. The connection between God and self will become a major thread in the work, but this beginning demonstrates the priority on the search for God, even as he mines the events of his own life in search for himself. Augustine asks the question that defines his theological task: ‘Who then are you, my God?’1 He goes on to list numerous divine attributes but ends, saying, ‘But in 1 Conf. 1.4.4, 4: quid es ergo, deus meus? For Confessions, English translations are provided by Augustine, Confessions, trans. Henry Chadwick, Oxford World’s Classics (Oxford, 2008), unless otherwise noted. The Latin texts are provided by Augustine, Augustine: Confessions, ed. James J. O’Donnell (Oxford, 1992), http://www.stoa.org/hippo/. Translations of De Trinitate are provided by Augustine, The Trinity, trans. Edmund Hill (Hyde Park, NY, 1991). Each citation of Augustinian text will appear with the abbreviated title, book number, section number, and paragraph number (if necessary), followed by the page number from the appropriate work.

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 33-40. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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these words what have I said, my God, my life, my holy sweetness? What has anyone achieved in words when he speaks about you? Yet woe to those who are silent about you because, though loquacious with verbosity, they have nothing to say.’2 Not deterred, however, Augustine continues his meditation and eventually concludes a discussion on God’s relationship to time with the words: ‘What is it to me, if someone does not understand? Let them rejoice, saying “what is this?” Let them thus also be glad and let them love to find you by not finding you rather than love to not find you by finding you.’3 These passages hold together a tension in Augustine – if God is thought to be found, God is not found, and both confident speech and reverent silence seem to be the incorrect paradigm for the theological project. Instead, I want to put forth the image of infancy as Augustine’s posture in his own theological work, specifically in Confessions and De Trinitate. These passages sit just prior to and in the midst of his discussion of his own beginnings, linking these thoughts with his thoughts on infants.4 Two characteristics of infancy in particular emerge in Augustine’s method of answering his broad theological question, as he has alluded here: speechlessness and consistent seeking. These create a third space between confident speech and reverent silence. Using infancy as a lens to explain larger human phenomena is not unique for Augustine. The words infans and parvulus can be traced throughout his work; in Confessions alone, they appear at least forty-six times and almost half are in Book I.5 Three Augustinian metaphors involving infancy come quickly to mind. Human sinfulness is the most apparent and is often discussed.6 The 2

Conf. 1.4.4, 5: et quid diximus, deus meus, vita mea, dulcedo mea sancta, aut quid dicit aliquis cum de te dicit? et vae tacentibus de te, quoniam loquaces muti sunt. 3 Conf. 1.6.10, author’s translation: quid ad me, si quis non intellegat? gaudeat et ipse dicens, ‘quid est hoc?’ gaudeat etiam sic, et amet non inveniendo invenire potius quam inveniendo non invenire te. 4 To be clear, it is not newborns (though they make noises and attempt communication as well) that Augustine is truly speaking about; at this point, I imagine him to be discussing slightly older infants, those who have more physical and verbal capability but are not yet toddlers, not yet speaking but making sounds and, as he will describe, flailing limbs around. 5 Augustine uses infans 24 times and parvulus 22 times in Confessions. He uses the words 20 times (17 and 3, respectively) in Book I. His use of the word parvulus is not entirely consistent, and it would be difficult, if not impossible, to argue that it is always synonymous with infans. In Confessions, it is often connected to a scriptural reference or allusion (see Conf. 7.9.14; 7.21.27; 8.2.3; 13.13.14; 13.15.17; 13.22.32) which points to its use in Augustine’s scriptural text. Matthew 11:25 is a particularly common biblical source for Augustine in this work. Another frequent use of the term, in both Confessions and De Trinitate, is to describe new believers, or beginners, who read Scripture at a basic level (see Conf. 4.15.26; 12.14.17; 12.27.37; 12.30.41; De Trin. 1.2-3). There is one reference in which Augustine certainly interchanges parvulus with infans, in which Augustine describes a parvulus as non loquebatur (Conf. 1.7.11). This allows readers to see his use of ‘little one’ to mean, at least at some points, this speechless stage of life. 6 Conf. 1.7.11. See also his works on infant baptism and the debates with Pelagius, such as The Punishment and Forgiveness of Sins and the Baptism of Little Ones (De peccatorum meritis et remissione).

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image of jealous babies nursing together, and the implications that Augustine draws from it, demonstrates that infants can exemplify various aspects of human life as they do in the works of other ancient and late ancient writers.7 The nursing baby also comes to be an image of Christians drawing nourishment from Mother Church, often in the form of the Eucharist.8 The last example appears in both Confessions and De Trinitate, as in the New Testament, that of beginning Christians as parvuli.9 Contrary to what Augustine believes earlier in his life, the simplicity of Scripture allows the multitudes to access the truth and begin the process of seeing beyond the toys of children that Scripture presents on the surface.10 Nevertheless, infancy is not solely for new Christians but also for bishops. In his own theological project, Augustine portrays himself as an infant and demonstrates that any who desire to know and praise God should take on the speechless seeking of infants. This essay will examine this posture of the theologian as seen specifically in these opening passages of Confessions and briefly reflect on how he models this in De Trinitate. Confessions In the opening passages of Confessions, Augustine draws together infancy and those who desire to praise God, including himself.11 A central question of Book I lies right at the onset, when he says, ‘which comes first – to call upon you or to praise you, and whether knowing you precedes calling upon you’.12 Seeing the relationship between praising God and using words to describe God, Augustine will go on to use words to bring praise to God, generally through a investigation into his own life. He quickly highlights a problem with this plan; there are stages of his life that he cannot remember. Some things about the beginnings of his life are inaccessible to him, similar to the way in which some 7 Robin Lane Fox argues that Augustine is using infancy differently than his predecessors did. He quotes Cicero, saying, ‘All ancient philosophers turn to the cradle, believing that it is in early childhood that we can most easily recognize the “will of nature”’ (Augustine: Conversions to Confessions [New York, 2015], 35). Unlike those who look to infancy to study the natural will, Augustine, Lane Fox asserts, sees his beginnings as exemplifying ‘the Christian dynamic of his confessions, the interplay between his own abject sinfulness and God’s mercy and order in the world’ (Augustine, 35). Augustine does fall into a general trend of those who see infancy as instructive of larger human experiences, even as he takes a different perspective on how to do so. 8 Conf. 4.1.1; 7.18.24; 9.3.5. 9 E.g., 1Cor. 3:1-4. 10 Conf. 3.5.9; 4.15.26; 4.16.31; 12.14.17; 12.27.37; 12.30.41. See also De Trin. 1.2. He continues there to say that his readers, drawn in initially by children’s toys, are to be drawn upward ‘step by step to seek as best we can the things that are above’ (66). 11 See Conf. 1.1.1 in which Augustine equates humanity with those who desire to praise God. 12 Conf. 1.1.1.

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knowledge of God is inaccessible to him. What he can know about that time, though, allows him to praise God all the more. Augustine’s meditations on his life bring to light various thoughts and words of praise to God. An investigation into the earliest days of his life leads him to a discussion of how God relates to time, a topic that few, if any, can understand. For this reason, he concludes this section, saying: ‘What is it to me, if someone does not understand? Let them rejoice, saying “what is this?” Let them thus also be glad and let them love to find you by not finding you rather than love to not find you by finding you.’13 Augustine has not yet begun speaking about a part of his life that he can remember, and already, he has moved to speech and praise of God, despite the incomprehensible nature of the topic. This section regarding time is the first confession explicitly stated in the work. Augustine begins, ‘I confess to you, Lord of heaven and earth…’,14 alluding to Matthew 11:25, an oft-quoted text in Confessions, in which Jesus continues, saying, ‘… because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants’.15 He is certainly implying the entire verse in this passage, with its connection to infancy.16 His own continuation of the phrase speaks of the ‘beginnings and my infancy which I do not recall’, juxtaposing these ideas. Infants receive the revelation, and even though Augustine cannot remember that time of his life, he praises God for it. In this initial confession, he reminds his readers of who will receive the truth of God, setting the stage for all of his confessions. For Augustine, to be an infant is primarily to have limited knowledge and to have no clear means of communication. About the former, he says, ‘for at that time I knew nothing more than how to suck and to be quietened by bodily delights, and to weep when I was physically uncomfortable.’17 Bodily needs are the extent of knowledge and desire for babies, but they have inadequate means of communicating these needs to others. Augustine highlights this inability, saying, ‘so I threw my limbs about and uttered sounds, signs resembling my wishes, the small number of signs of which I was capable but such signs as lay in my power to use: for there was no real resemblance.’18 Toward the end of infancy, he was ‘searching out signs by which I made my thoughts known to others’.19 This is not 13

Conf. 1.6.10, author’s translation. Conf. 1.6.10, 8. In the Vulgate, Matthew 11:25 also includes Pater between tibi and domine. The Vulgate texts are provided by the Clementine Text Project. 15 Matt. 11:25 (New Revised Standard Version). The Vulgate reads quia abscondisti haec a sapientibus, et prudentibus, et revelasti ea parvulis. 16 See Gillian Clark, ‘Commentary’, in Augustine, Confessions. Books I-IV, Cambridge Greek and Latin Classics (New York, 2001). Clark states that ‘the unstated context of the quotation’ is often important to Augustine in Confessions (94). 17 Conf. 1.6.7, 7. 18 Conf. 1.6.8, 7. 19 Conf. 1.6.10, 8. 14

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silence or a loss for words but rather a lack of knowing the signs for communicating thoughts and needs. Infants are not beyond words but unable to form and know them. This inability is the defining characteristic of infancy; to gain the ability would be to enter a new phase of human life.20 Infantia contains this idea within itself, as it derives its meaning from the Latin verb for, ‘I speak’. Infants are, by definition, speechless. To such as these, Jesus promises revelation. Augustine is certainly not saying that nothing can be known about God or even said about God because even in his analogous search for self throughout the work, he has been able to find out certain things about his beginnings and his infancy and describe them. Though not direct knowledge from memory, he has been able to observe pregnant women and other infants to uncover what these times may have resembled.21 Likewise, faith, Scripture, and the Church have provided him with knowledge of God. Nevertheless, there is an inherent humility that comes with being an infant, especially in light of this limited knowledge and inability to form words to communicate even the things which are known. As a human being who can form words, Augustine does not know if his words can even communicate anything about God.22 Silence, however, is not the answer either. God is to be praised, and there ought to be an attempt to do so with words, as infants who seek out signs through which to communicate as they are about to enter childhood. The baby Augustine has the most limited sense of who he is and of who God is, and on the edge of childhood, he has sought a way to express anything. Likewise, the humble seeker of God has only limited knowledge and struggles to communicate the ideas that are known. It is difficult to ignore the undertones of Matthew 11:25. If Augustine’s readers think themselves wise and intelligent enough to find God, they will stop searching when they understand something but will not have found God; if they know themselves to be like infants, ignorant and speechless, and continue to seek for God, they will find God in the search. In Augustine’s understanding, infants do not stop seeking after their desires and needs, and even when they start vocalizing, they make noises and sounds repeatedly. They eventually seek to communicate with those vocalizations and with bodily movements; while they have not reached a speech that truly signifies their desires, they can make noises in an attempt to do so. They are neither silent nor speaking; they exist in a speechless searching. This is the posture that Augustine models for others in his works Confessions and De Trinitate. 20 Pierre Courcelle, Recherches sur les Confessions de Saint Augustin (Paris, 1950), 43. He defines infancy as ‘qu’il fait finir au moment où le bébé exprime déjà ses sentiments par signes’. 21 In Conf. 1.6.9, he says, regarding his time within his mother’s womb, ‘I have learnt something, and I myself have seen pregnant women’ (7). ‘That this is the way of infants I have learnt from those I have been able to watch’, he says (Conf. 1.6.8, 7). 22 Conf. 1.4.4: quid dicit aliquis cum de te dicit.

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Returning to God’s relationship with time in this particular passage in Confessions, Augustine has not exhausted the topic nor does he fully understand it to his own level of satisfaction, yet he is not dejected but encourages others to join him in his joyful searching.23 He is setting down his thoughts about God’s today and humanity’s days to meditate more on something else, here, the sins of infants. He will return to ask ‘what is this?’ again regarding God and time later in Confessions.24 Augustine will also eventually shift his focus away from the history of his infancy but will not cast off the search for God.25 He has meditated enough on these times, but he will continue to praise God through further confessions of his childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, joyfully questioning, ‘what is this?’ De Trinitate This same posture of infancy, that of speechless searching, can be found in De Trinitate, which is written in the same period of his life and also focuses on the connection between the search for God and the search for self.26 As in Confessions, Augustine begins De Trinitate with both infant imagery and the difficulty of knowing and finding God. In this introductory section, Augustine does not identify himself with a baby nor did he take a specifically humble tone, but through the work, he seeks to bring his readers through the steps of how he has humbled himself before Scripture and now has attained a better understanding of God.27 Upon failing to grasp an image of the Triune God after fifteen books, he prays, ‘I have sought you and desired to see intellectually what I have believed … Do you yourself give me the strength to seek, having 23 Perhaps his use of gaudere in this passage points to the true joy that Augustine himself has in writing these theological treatises. The journey of searching for God is the aspect that ought to be rejoiced in and loved, rather than any sort of false destination of finding God. 24 Conf. Book XI. 25 See Conf. 1.7.12, where he says, ‘but of that time I say nothing more [sed ecce omitto illud tempus]. I feel no sense of responsibility now for a time of which I recall not a single trace’ (10). 26 For dating of De Trinitate, see Edmund Hill, ‘Introduction’, in Augustine, The Trinity (1991), 20. For dating of Confessions, see Henry Chadwick, ‘Introduction’, in Augustine, Confessions (2008), xiii. In Confessions, Augustine models the joyful search for God, the source of being, through a search for his own self in both the past and the present. He continues to meditate on them in De Trinitate. In De Trinitate, he exemplifies the sustained, tedious search for God through a look inside the human being as the Image of God. Neither work claims to have grasped God, as one remains full of questions and the other dismisses even his best trinitarian metaphor. However, both link infancy with grand ideas about God’s substance and time, emphasizing Augustine’s belief that God is beyond understanding and ultimately inexpressible. That does not, though, stop him from attempting to understand and express the God that he has found in the search. 27 De Trin. 1.2. See De Trin. 14.7 for further thoughts on infancy, particularly regarding memory and knowledge.

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caused yourself to be found and having given me the hope of finding you more and more.’28 Even here at the end of the work, Augustine remains focused on this search while also allowing others to see him remain truly speechless on the subject.29 Throughout De Trinitate, Augustine remains like an infant. He certainly seeks after God; in fact, he uses such language throughout the text.30 All the while, though, he does not shrink away from his questions or from serious intellectual inquiry. In many ways, De Trinitate is an attempt to communicate God rightly, but Augustine cannot form the words correctly. He is akin to his infant self seeking to express the little that he knows with flailing arms and mumbled sounds rather than comprehensible words. The inability to communicate does not stop him in his search; he tries to communicate his understanding of God first one way, then another. He has made noises that sound almost right, in fact they may sound just like words but are not true communicative signs.31 Finally, at the end of De Trinitate, Augustine needs to move on, focus on something else. These ways have not worked, but he will try again. Conclusion Augustine’s understanding of infancy stands as an image of the human being praising God. In his works, specifically Confessions and De Trinitate, he takes on the attitude of a young child who has not yet achieved speech but nonetheless strives toward communication.32 When he describes his present self in Confessions Book X, Augustine says, ‘I am a child [parvulus sum].’33 Now a bishop, writing to other Christians, he continues to identify with a phase in life that he himself cannot even recall. His humble identification with the infant emphasizes once again his own willingness to be ignorant and to admit that he has not found God, even at the end of a story that recalls his great academic 28

De Trin. 15.51, 436. See De Trin. 15.50 for Augustine’s soliloquy to his soul, in which he says, God’s ‘knowledge is too wonderful for me and has been too mighty and I have not been capable of it’ (434-5). 30 See De Trin. 1.1; 1.3; 9.1; 15.1-2. 31 As when a child repeats a sound such as ‘ma’ but does not know that ‘mama’ is a word. 32 Further work on his use of the infancy can be done with his works De doctrina christiana and De vera religione, and connections can be made with De magistro, a work in which he digs into the purpose and function of words. In De magistro, he concludes that words bring to light an inner reality already existent, one that must be taught by some other being. Further study could also compare his ideas about learning words to his understanding of developing or learning about doctrine. Similar to his description of language learning, doctrine is generally not learned in an orderly fashion. Generally, the Trinity is learned as a whole before its individual parts are examined and determined, just as infants learn words before they learn letters. Repetition and observation are also key to theological learning, which mainly occurs in liturgy. 33 Conf. 10.4.6, 182. 29

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and intellectual prowess. Not quite a speechless, little one, Augustine uses many words to explain God because he cannot find better signs through which to communicate. Human language and intellect ultimately fail him, but he will continue to search because it is in the knowledge that God is beyond understanding that God can be found. Even in the present, he does not consider himself to have matured past that stage of humility before God.34 Turning to look within the self in De Trinitate, Augustine outlines what perfection looks like in a human life, namely, ‘nothing but forgetting what lies behind and stretching out to what lies ahead intently’.35 Clarifying what he means, he says, ‘the safest intent, after all, until we finally get where we are intent on getting and where we are stretching out to, is that of the seeker. And the right intent is the one that sets out from faith’.36 He here reiterates in descriptive language what he said in paradoxical beauty before, ‘let them thus also be glad and let them love to find you by not finding you rather than love to not find you by finding you.’37 Augustine finds himself to be an infant, and as an infant, he finds God.

34 There are many other examples throughout Confessions of Augustine’s criticism of pride in his own life and in the lives of others. Some include his discussion on Faustus and Ambrose in Book V, his description of conversion accounts in Book VIII, and his praise for Monica in Book IX. 35 De Trin. 9.1, 270. 36 Ibid. 37 Conf. 1.6.10, author’s translation.

Souls of Stars and Ideas of Individuals: Origenian Material in Augustine’s Ep. 14? Lenka KARFÍKOVÁ, Charles University, Prague, Czech Republic

ABSTRACT In his letter 14, addressed to Nebridius, Augustine answers two questions posed by his philosophically interested friend: (1) why human individuals do many of the same things, whereas the Sun does not do the same as the other stars; (2) whether God’s Wisdom contains only the form (ratio) of man in general, or also of each one of us in particular. These questions very probably have their source in Plato’s Timaeus and Plotinus’ Enneads (esp. V 7) respectively, but they also have very interesting parallels in Origen’s De orat. 7,1; De princ. I 7,3; III 5,4 and De princ. I 2,3; I 4,4-5; Comm. Ioh. I 19,111.113-5; C. Cels. V 22 respectively. My aim is not to speculate about any possible reading of Origen by the young Augustine but to explore the meaning of these topics in both Christian authors and to explain the prima facie incomprehensible connection of both of Nebridius’ questions.

During the Sixth International Conference on Patristic Studies, held in Oxford in 2011, I presented a paper ‘Augustine to Nebridius on the Ideas of Individuals (Ep. 14,4)’.1 In the discussion, two very interesting questions were asked concerning the possible influence of Origen on Augustine in this issue, and the connection of both Nebridius’ questions answered in Ep. 14, namely the movements of stars and the ideas of individuals. In this article, here, I try to deal with both these questions. 1. Soul(s) of Stars Augustine’s extant correspondence with Nebridius includes twelve letters in total (Augustinus, Ep. 3-14), predominantly of philosophical content, three of which were written by Nebridius (Ep. 5, 6 and 8), with nine answers by Augustine (Ep. 3, 4, 7, 9-14). Letter 14 is the last number of this collection, which does not necessarily mean that it was the very last one in the chronological order of this very interesting correspondence.2 Very probably, it was written shortly before Nebridius’ premature death between 388 and 390. 1

SP 70 (2013), 477-85. E. Bermon supposes the sequence of the letters to be as follows: Ep. 3, 4, 13, 5(?), 6-7, 8-9, 14, 12, 10, 11, see Emmanuel Bermon, ‘Lettres 3 à 14: Introduction’, in Œuvres de Saint Augustin: Lettres 1-30, BA 40/A (Paris, 2011), 213-28, 222. 2

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 41-55. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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Augustine quotes both questions asked by Nebridius which are dealt with in his letter 14. The first one concerns the movement of the stars: ‘Why, though you and I are individuals, we do many things that are the same, while the Sun does not do the same thing as the other stars’.3 At first glance, this question might seem obscure.4 Compared to the diversity of human lives, the activity of individual stars might seem very similar. ‘Do the same (things)’ (eadem or idem facere) seems to be more adequate as a statement about the stars than about human beings. However, Nebridius’ question concerns the difference between what the Sun is doing and what the other stars are doing. By ‘stars’ (sidera) he very probably means rather the planets than the fixed stars. At least for the planets, his statement sounds more comprehensible. Augustine uses the term sidera for both,5 and he sometimes specifies sidera fixa for the fixed stars and sidera vaga for the planets.6 The term sidera can cover both, similarly to the term stellae, which is sometimes also specified as stellae vagantes for the planets.7 According to Plato’s Timaeus, it is the ‘circle of the same’, which gives to any star, very probably also including the planets (36c; 39a), the movement ‘forward’ of its daily revolution (40b). However, the individual movements of the seven planets derive from the ‘circle of the different’, put into the circle of the same in an oblique way, so that they cross each other in the form of the letter X. The angle they form is the inclination of the ecliptic with respect to the Earth’s equator (36b-d). For the individual planets, the ‘circle of the different’ establishes their individual orbits at their individual distances from the Earth (36d). In addition to this, the rotation around its own axis is caused by 3 Ep. 14,2 (CChr.SL 31, 33.10-1): … cur ego et tu, cum simus singuli eadem multa faciamus, sol autem non idem faciat quod cetera sidera. English translation by Roland J. Teske, The Works of Saint Augustine: A Translation for the 21st century, II/1, Letters 1-99 (Brooklyn, NY, 2001), 41. 4 According to the New Testament, ‘star differs from star in glory (claritas)’, cf. 1Cor. 15:41. However, it does not seem very probable that this biblical line was the inspiration for Nebridius’ question. Even Augustine was not yet a very experienced reader of Holy Scripture when writing his answer, and this line is never quoted in his early works (we find it later on, e.g. in De Genesi ad litteram II,16 [CSEL 28/1, 58]). M.R. Barnes surmises a Trinitarian context for Nebridius’ question. The theology of the Holy Trinity was indeed discussed in the correspondence of both friends. In Ep. 11, Nebridius asks why only the Son was incarnated, if the activity of the Trinity is common to all three divine persons. Ep. 14, according to Barnes, might also imply the idea that the same activity presupposes the same nature, and the other way round. Cf. Michel R. Barnes, ‘Rereading Augustine’s Theology of the Trinity’, in Stephen T. Davis et al. (eds), The Trinity: An Interdisciplinary Symposium on the Trinity (Oxford, 1999), 145-76, 159-61. However, this presupposed context does not explain Nebridius’ question concerning astronomy and human individuals. 5 De Gen. Man. I,14,20 (CSEL 91, 87) for the planets (sidera, id est sol, et luna, et stellae); De Gen. litt. II,10 (CSEL 28/1, 48) for the fixed stars. 6 De Gen. inp. 13 (CSEL 28/1, 487). 7 De Gen. inp. 8 (CSEL 28/1, 480).

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the soul of each individual star, very probably also including the planets (40a-b). The planets move at different speeds (36d) along the circle of the different; the Sun, together with Venus and Mercury, at a speed equal to the ‘circle of the different’, whereas the Sun alone follows the ‘circle of the different’ without any retrogradation and delay (38d).8 The possibility is not excluded that Nebridius had at his disposal Cicero’s translation of Timaeus, which Augustine quotes in his later works De consensu evangelistarum9 and De civitate Dei.10 The possible access of both friends to the commentary by Calcidius remains uncertain.11 Although Augustine’s knowledge of astronomy does not prove to be especially profound (at least to David Pingree),12 he nevertheless shows a certain interest in astronomical questions when he later on comments on Genesis 1.13 However, Nebridius might also have in mind the different influence the stars have on human lives, in the sense of Plotinus’ treatise II 3(52) Εἰ ποιεῖ τὰ ἄστρα. As we know from Augustine’s Confessions,14 astrology was discussed between both friends in a lively manner. It was only with difficulty that Nebridius succeeded in dispelling Augustine’s trust in astrological predictions. As Augustine puts it later in De Genesi ad litteram, where he criticises astrology, in these predictions too the difference of the Sun from other planets played a very important role, especially because of the supposed influence of the Sun on the retardations of Venus and Mercury.15 If Nebridius’ question aimed at the astrological influence of the stars, then it might have included an ironic allusion to Augustine’s previous superstition. If so, then Augustine did not understand it 8 See Francis M. Cornford, Plato’s Cosmology: The Timaeus of Plato (London, 1937; reprint Indianapolis, 1997), 136-7. 9 De cons. evang. I 35,53 (CSEL 43, 59): Nam et quidam eorum nobilissimus philosophus Plato in eo libro, quem Timaeum vocant, sic ait: ‘quantum ad id quod ortum est aeternitas valet, tantum ad fidem veritas’ (Tim. 29c). 10 De civ. Dei XIII 16 (CChr.SL 48, 397); quote from Tim. 41a-b. 11 For the difficulty of dating this work, see Béatrice Bakhouche, ‘Introduction générale’, in Calcidius, Commentaire au Timée de Platon, ed. B. Bakhouche (Paris, 2011), I 7-104, 8-13. 12 See David Pingree, s.v. Astrologia, astronomia, in Augustinus-Lexikon, I (Basel, 1986-94), 482-90. 13 De Gen. inp. 8 (CSEL 28/1, 480); 13 (CSEL 28/1, 487); De Gen. litt. II 5 (CSEL 28/1, 38); II 16 (CSEL 28/1, 58-9). 14 Conf. IV 3,4-6 (CChr.SL 27, 41-3); VII 6,8 (CChr.SL 27, 97). On Augustine’s involvement in astrology, see Thomas O’Loughlin, ‘The Libri Philosophorum and Augustine’s Conversions’, in Thomas Finan and Vincent Twomey (eds), The Relationship between Neoplatonism and Christianity (Dublin, 1992), 101-25. 15 See De Gen. litt. II 16 (CSEL 28/1, 58-9). The retardation of both planets, Venus and Mercury, which is very important in astrology, is already mentioned by Plato (Tim. 38d). This phenomenon used to be ascribed to the force of the Sun, as Vitruvius testifies in De archit. IX 1,6-9.11-2 (ed. Krohn 202-5). This passage, or a common astrological manual, might have been a source for Augustine; see Pierre Agaësse and Aimé Solignac (eds), Œuvres de saint Augustin: La Genèse au sens littéral, BA 48 (Paris, 1972), 608.

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or did not want to understand it. At any rate, he does not consider the astrological meaning of the wording ‘to do (or not to do) the same’. In his later critique of astrology in De civitate Dei V 1-7, inspired by Cicero, Augustine uses other terminology in this context, such as vis positionis siderum or decernere opinantur sidera. Augustine’s answer tries to relativise both statements made by Nebridius: (1) the Sun and stars also do many of the same things, and (2) human individuals do many different things or at least do them in a different way. It is especially the first part of his answer which is of interest for us here: For, if we do the same things, the sun also does many actions with other stars; if it does not, nor do we. I walk, and you walk; it moves, and they move. I am awake, and you are awake; it shines, and they shine. I argue, and you argue; it revolves, and they revolve. The act of the soul, nonetheless, is in no way comparable to those things that we see. But if you compare soul to soul, as is fair, you should consider that, if there is any soul present in them, the stars either think or contemplate the same thing – or whatever else they might more suitably be said to do – more than human beings.16

Augustine observes that the Sun and other stars do many things in common: all of them move (as human beings walk), all of them shine (as human beings are awake), and all of them revolve in their orbits (as human beings discuss). This last example probably implies the idea of the circulation of stars being analogous to human thinking and speech, as presupposed in Neo-Platonic philosophy. As Plotinus puts it, heaven imitates the Intellect by its circular movement,17 whereas the human soul imitates it by its discursive thinking.18 In the above quoted passage, Augustine mentions as a hypothesis that stars might have a soul, animus, which is probably a term borrowed from Cicero19 and used by Augustine more or less synonymously with anima in the writings of his early period.20 If stars have a soul, then what they ‘think or contemplate … or whatever else they might more suitably be said to do’ must be much more the same for the individual stars than is the case for individual human beings. This again is an idea close to Neo-Platonism, where the world soul also contemplates 16

Ep. 14,2 (CChr.SL 31, 33.12-9): Nam si eadem nos agimus, multa et ille cum ceteris agit; si non ille, nec nos. Ambulo et ambulas, mouetur et mouentur; uigilo et uigilas, lucet et lucent; disputo et disputas, circuit et circumeunt, tametsi actus animi nullo modo est his quae uidemus comparandus. Si autem animum, ita ut aequum est, animo conferas, magis idem uel cogitare uel contemplari uel si quid aliud commodius dicitur, si ullus eis inest animus, sidera quam homines consideranda sunt. English translation by R.J. Teske, Letters 1-99 (2001), 41 (modified). 17 Plotinus, Enn. II 2(14),1,1; IV 4(28),16,23-31; III 2(47),3,29-31. 18 Enn. V 1(10),3,7-9; V 3(49),4,14-23; 8-13.44-55. 19 This term was also used for the world soul (animus mundi), see Cicero, Acad. I 7,29 (ed. Reid 133); see also Cicero, Timaeus, e.g. 3,10 (= Tim. 30b) et passim. 20 See, e.g., De immortalitate (CSEL 89, 103-28), where the terms animus and anima are used interchangeably, perhaps depending on the sources used (Cicero and the Neo-Platonists respectively).

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the Intellect in a much more stable way than the individual souls do.21 I leave aside the difficult question of how the world soul cooperates with the souls of individual stars in Neo-Platonism,22 and just concentrate on what Augustine is saying on this tricky issue. It is striking that in the above quoted passage, Augustine speaks about the (hypothetical) soul of stars in the singular (si ullus eis inest animus), even if the context demands a comparison between one soul of an individual star and another. For the Christian Platonists, similarly as for Cicero,23 Philo of Alexandria24 or Calcidius,25 the souls of individual stars were an acceptable idea, as in the case of Manlius Theodorus,26 the author of the poem De pulchritudine mundi from the collection of the Twenty-One Sentences,27 and also in the case of Origen. In his treatises De principiis and De oratione, Origen even tries to prove from the Bible that the stars are animated beings endowed with free will. Otherwise they would not be invited to ‘Praise the Lord’ (Ps. 148:3) like other free beings, says Origen.28 This idea is to be understood against the backdrop of the Jewish apocalyptical literature known to Origen, where the stars can commit a sin and transgress the divine laws of their movements, such as the planets (cf. 1Enoch 18:13-6; 21:3).29 In Origen’s opinion, too, stars can and perhaps some of them did commit a sin (see Job 25:5; Isa. 14:12);30 at least 21

Plotinus, Enn. IV 8(6),8,11-6; IV 3(27),4,21-3. On the souls of stars, cf. Plotinus, Enn. II 1(40),2,16-20; IV 4(28),42,23-9. See also John Herbert Sleeman and Gilbert Pollet, Lexicon Plotinianum (Leiden, 1980), 1155. 23 Cicero, De nat. deor. II 42-4 (probably taken from Aristotle’s lost work De philosophia, see William D. Ross, Aristotelis fragmenta selecta [Oxford, 1955], fr. 21). 24 On the souls of individual stars cf. Philo of Alexandria, Gig. 2,8 (ed. Cohn-Wendland II, 43,14-6): καὶ γὰρ οὗτοι (scil. ἀστέρες) ψυχαὶ ὅλαι δι’ ὅλων ἀκήρατοί τε καὶ θεῖαι, παρὸ καὶ κύκλῳ κινοῦνται τὴν συγγενεστάτην νῷ κίνησιν. See also De somn. I 135 (ed. Cohn-Wendland III 234.8-14). However, Philo’s ideas on cosmology do not seem quite consistent, see Alan Scott, Origen and the Life of Stars: A History of an Idea, The Oxford Early Christian Studies (Oxford, 1991), 63-75. 25 Calcidius, In Tim. §130 (ed. Bakhouche I 366-8). It is striking that Calcidius tries to substantiate this idea by alluding to Gen. 1:14.16. His argumentation might have been drawn from Origen or Philo, see Jan den Boeft, Calcidius on Fate: His Doctrine and Sources, Philosophia Antiqua 18 (Leiden, 1970), 135-6; id., Calcidius on Demons (Commentarius ch. 127-136), Philosophia Antiqua 33 (Leiden, 1977), 21-6; David T. Runia, Philo in Early Christian Literature: A Survey, Compendia Rerum Iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum, Section 3: Jewish Traditions in Early Christian Literature 3 (Assen, Minneapolis, 1993), 284. 26 Claudianus, Paneg. Theodori (= Carm. 17, ed. Seitz), 101-2. 27 See François Dolbeau, ‘Un poème philosophique de l’Antiquité tardive: De pulchritudine mundi (Remarques sur le Liber XXI sententiarum, CPL 373)’, REAug 42 (1996), 21-43 (lines 26-38 = PL 40, 729-30). See E. Bermon, in BA 40A (Paris, 2011), 598-9. 28 De or. 7,1 (GCS, Origenes II 316); De princ. I 7,3 (SC 252, 212-4), where Origen refers to Is. 45:12. 29 Cf. A. Scott, Origen and the Life of Stars (1991), 92-3. 30 De princ. I 7,2 (SC 252, 210-2); Comm. Ioh. I 35,257 (SC 120, 188). On Satan as a fallen star, cf. Hom. Ez. 13,2 (GCS, Origenes VIII 444). O the Earth maledict because of (her?) sin, cf. 22

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they, because of their unequally strong will, ‘differ in glory’ (1Cor. 15:41).31 However, Origen also says that the souls of stars are much stronger than human souls, since they are much more firmly rooted in contemplation. Their incarnation is not an opportunity to save themselves, like the incarnation of the human souls, but a service and help for other souls.32 Origen is aware that the question of the stars as living beings has not been settled in the Christian tradition33 and his own statements on this topic are (in Rufinus’ translation) rather tentative.34 However, the readers of his works will understand that stars do have individual souls and the freedom of will; and some of his ancient and modern interpreters even conclude that stars did sin (such as Jerome in his letter to Avitus35 or Alan Scott in his monograph Origen and the Life of Stars [Oxford, 1991]).36 On the other hand, it remains unsure whether Origen seriously considered a world soul as a principle vivifying the world as a whole. He rather metaphorically speaks about ‘the world as a huge and immense animal, held together by the power and reason of God, as if by one soul’.37 Hom. Ez. 4,1 (GCS, Origenes VIII 360-2). However, these passages may also have metaphorical meaning. 31 De princ. II 9,3 (SC 252, 356). 32 De princ. III 5,4 (SC 268, 226). In a corrupted and thus rather unclear passage, Comm. Ioh. I 17,98-99 (SC 120, 108-10), Origen also says that the soul of the Sun (ἡ ψυχὴ τοῦ ἡλίου) was incarnated because ‘the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly’ (cf. Rom. 8:20). See also Comm. Rom. VII 5 (SC 543, 262-4). Origen’s interpretation of this biblical line is analyzed by P. Lebeau who shows that the ‘subjection to vanity’ is for the stars not a penalty but a service, see Paul Lebeau, ‘L’interprétation origénienne de Rm 8.12-22’, in Parick Granfield and Josef A. Jungmann (eds), Kyriakon, FS Johannes Quasten, I (Münster, 1970), 336-45. 33 De princ., praef. 10 (SC 252, 88): De sole autem et luna et stellis, utrum animantia sint an sine anima manifeste non traditur. Origen reserves the answer to this question for the eschatological knowledge of the saints, see De princ. II 11,7 (SC 252, 410): Cum ergo, verbi gratia, ad caelestia loca pervenerint sancti, tunc iam rationem astrorum per singula pervidebunt et, sive animantia sunt, sive quidquid illud est, conprehendent. 34 De princ. I 7,3 (SC 252, 212). 35 Jerome, Ep. 124,4 (CSEL 56/1, 99). See also the condemnation of Origen at the Second Council of Constantinople in 553, canon 3 (Canones XV contra Origenem sive Origenistas, in Concilium universale Constantinopolitanum sub Justiniano habitum, Acta Conciliorum Oecumenicorum IV/1, ed. Johannes Straub [Berlin, 1971], 248.14-6). 36 A. Scott, Origen and the Life of Stars (1991), 123-49. Author’s opinion on the sin of the stars has been criticized by Mark J. Edwards, Origen against Plato, Ashgate Studies in Philosophy and Theology in Late Antiquity (Aldershot, 2002), 11529; see also ibid. 92. 37 De princ. II 1,3 (SC 252, 238): … universum mundum velut animal quoddam inmensum atque inmane opinandum puto, quod quasi ab una anima virtute dei ac ratione teneatur. Origen also speaks of ‘everything being animated’ (πάντα ἐψύχωται) but he probably imagines the heaven, earth, seas and rivers as having their souls (ἐψύχωται), see Hom. Ps. 76,3,2 (GCS, N.F. 19, Origenes XIII 329.21-330.9). On the possible animation of the Earth, see also Hom. Ier. 10,6,3 (SC 232, 408). Some interpreters are sceptical about any world soul in Origen (see Robert M. Berchman, From Philo to Origen: Middle Platonism in Transition, Brown Judaic Studies 69 [Chico, CA, 1984], 128) while others surmise it (see A. Scott, Origen and the Life of Stars [1991], 126-7). The correspondences to the concept of the world soul in Origen shows

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Augustine raises the question of the souls of stars as a Platonic issue (Tim. 41a-b) several times later on (e.g. in De Genesi ad litteram or De civitate Dei),38 to reject the idea finally.39 Similarly, the Platonic world soul remains a hypothesis for him, although mentioned repeatedly. We perhaps find a trace of it even in his correspondence with Nebridius (Ep. 7),40 and also in the draft De immortalitate animae from the same period, and later on in De consensu evangelistarum and probably also in his Confessions.41 Using animus in the singular, Augustine might have indicated that the stars do the same things in a much stronger sense than humans, because there is just one world soul contemplating in all of them, whereas the individual human souls differ in the function of their attention. Or perhaps – if he presupposes that the individual stars have individual souls after all – he just wants to highlight that these souls are much more similar to each other than human souls are. At any rate, this passage is very interesting because Augustine reflects here on the contemplation of the world soul or the individual souls of the stars, while elsewhere he mentions rather their vivifying and motoric functions. This idea also finds its direct analogy in the double aspect of the Neo-Platonic world soul contemplating the Intellect and organising the cosmos.42

Henri Crouzel, Origène et Plotin. Comparaisons doctrinales, Croire et savoir 17 (Paris, 1992), 211-6. The same reserve towards the world soul can also be observed with Philo, see David T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato, Philosophia antiqua 44 (Leiden, 1986), 204-8. 38 De Gen. litt. II 18 (CSEL 28/1, 62); De civ. Dei XIII 16 (CChr.SL 48, 397-8); Enchir. 15,58 (CChr.SL 46, 81); Ser. 241,8 (PL 38, 1138). 39 C. Prisc. 8,11-9,12 (CChr.SL 49, 173-5); 11,14 (CChr.SL 49, 177). 40 Ep. 7,3,7 (CSEL 34/1, 17). 41 De immort. 15,24 (CSEL 89, 126) and on this passage, Retract. I 11,4 (CChr.SL 57, 35); De cons. evang. I 23,35 (CSEL 43, 34-5); De Gen. litt. VII 4,6 (BA 48, 516). In Conf. XI 31,41 (CChr.SL 27, 215), Augustine supposes that this animus, if it exists, would know the past and the future of human history. See Kurt Flasch, Was ist Zeit? Augustinus von Hippo, das XI. Buch der Confessiones (Historisch-philosophische Studie): Text, Übersetzung, Kommentar (Frankfurt a.M., 1993), 404-15; Anne-Isabelle Bouton-Touboulic, L’ordre caché. La notion d’ordre chez saint Augustin, Collection des Études augustiniennes, série Antiquité 174 (Paris 2004), 201-10. In Ser. 241,7 (PL 38, 1137), Augustine mentions the idea of the world soul as a doctrine of Platonists who identify this soul with Jupiter or Hecate; on the allegorical intepretation of the theogony of Hesiod, where Zeus is identified with the (hypostatic) soul, see Plotinus, Enn. V 1(10),7,35-7; Pierre Hadot, ‘Ouranos, Kronos and Zeus in Plotinus’ Treatise against the Gnostics’, in Henry J. Blumenthal and Robert A. Markus (eds), Neoplatonism and Early Christian Thought: Essays in Honour of A.H. Armstrong (London, 1981), 124-37. The identification of the world soul with Hecate probably goes back to Or. Chald., fr. 32 (ed. des Places 74); fr. 51 (ed. des Places 80); see André-Jean Festugière, La révélation d’Hermès Trismégiste, III (Paris, 1953), 58. However, they are not clearly identified there, see Helmut Seng, Un livre sacré de l’antiquité tardive: Les Oracles Chaldaïques, Bibliothèque de l’École des hautes études, sciences religieuses 170 (Turnhout, 2016), 55 and 78-84. This identification could have been known to Augustine through Porphyry. 42 Plotinus, Enn. IV 7(2),13,1-8; IV 8(6),3,21-30.

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Augustine’s reflections on the soul(s) of stars do not seem to come especially close to Origen, although it was a topic dear to the Alexandrian scholar but both Christian authors share the same question. 2. Ideas of Individuals Like the first question, the second one also concerns the topic of human individuals; nevertheless, the connection of both questions is far from evident: You likewise ask whether that highest truth and highest wisdom and form of things through which all things were made, which our holy religion professes to be the only Son of God, contains the idea (ratio) of man in general or that of each one of us, too.43

Both Nebridius’ questions may be independent of each other or they may both originate in a reading of Plato’s Timaeus or any of its adaptations. When Timaeus finished his exposition on the periods of the planets with their multiform circulations (Tim. 39d), he returned to the intelligible archetype, where the archetypes of living beings which should inhabit the individual parts of the universe are also included: not only the heavens, but also the air, water, and earth (Tim. 39e-40a). To be sure, Plato does not speak about the ideas of individuals here; nevertheless, he says that the archetype included the same number of living beings as the created world should do,44 namely four of them. Earlier in his speech, Timaeus even said – according to Cicero’s translation – that in the intelligible archetype, there was ‘as its part any animal, either as individuals or as the entire genus’ (cuius ergo omne animal quasi particula quaedam est – sive in singulis sive in universo genere cernatur, Tim. 30c).45 A reader of this text can easily be seduced into thinking of the ideas of individuals, especially if he or she knows this question from the treatises of Plotinus. The idea of the intelligible archetype which is not contemplated from outside, as it were – as Timaeus (28a) puts it – but is included in the mind of God was very widespread in Augustine’s time. According to some scholars, it originated in the Platonic Academy under Xenocrates (H.J. Krämer, J. Dillon)46 or it might 43 Ep. 14,4 (CChr.SL 31, 34.51-4): Item quaeris utrum summa illa ueritas et summa sapientia, forma rerum, per quam facta sunt omnia, quem filium dei unicum sacra nostra profitentur, generaliter hominis, an etiam uniuscuiusque nostrum rationem contineat. English translation by R.J. Teske, Letters 1-99 (2001), 42 (modified). 44 Cicero, Timaeus 10,34 (Tim. 39e): Quot igitur et quales animalium formas mens in speciem rerum intuens poterat cernere, totidem et tales in hoc mundo secum cogitavit effingere (ᾗπερ οὖν νοῦς ἐνούσας ἰδέας τῷ ὃ ἔστιν ζῷον, οἷαί τε ἔνεισι καὶ ὅσαι, καθορᾷ, τοιαύτας καὶ τοσαύτας διενοήθη δεῖν καὶ τόδε σχεῖν). 45 Cicero, Timaeus 4,11. Tim. 30c: οὗ δ’ ἔστιν τἆλλα ζῷα καθ’ ἓν καὶ κατὰ γένη μόρια. 46 Hans J. Krämer, Der Ursprung der Geistmetaphysik. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des Platonismus zwischen Platon und Plotin, 2nd ed. (Amsterdam, 1967), 110-5; John M. Dillon (ed.), Alcinous, The Handbook of Platonism, Clarendon Later Ancient Philosophers (Oxford, 1993), 94-5.

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have been part of the lost work De philosophia by the early Aristotle (J. Pépin)47 or it may go back to Poseidonius’ pupil Antiochus of Ascalon (W. Theiler).48 At any rate, we find it very clearly expressed in Philo of Alexandria,49 Seneca,50 Alcinous,51 and Plotinus. Among Augustine’s Christian predecessors it was held especially by Origen.52 For Plotinus, not only are ideas included in the Intellect,53 but the Intellect is the ideas which it contemplates and unifies.54 Ideas, as the immutable archetypes and the first beings, of the same substance as the Intellect (ἀρχέτυπα καὶ πρῶτα καὶ νοῦ οὐσίαν), are participated in by things that arise and pass away.55 In this sense, the Intellect includes in it a noetic universe as an archetype of the perceptible world.56 As Philo before him, Origen too speaks about the divine Logos or Wisdom, where ‘species’ (species, i.e. εἴδη) and ‘reasons’ (rationes, i.e. λόγοι) of all things are included.57 In the Commentary on John, which survives in Greek, Origen 47 Jean Pépin, Théologie cosmique et théologie chrétienne, Bibliothèque de philosophie contemporaine, Histoire de la philosophie et philosophie générale 3 (Paris, 1964), 509-12. 48 Willy Theiler, Die Vorbereitung des Neuplatonismus, Problemata 1 (Berlin, 1930), 39-40; id., ‘Philo von Alexandria und der Beginn des kaiserlichen Platonismus’, in Kurt Flasch (ed.), Parusia. Studien zur Philosophie Platons und zur Problemgeschichte des Platonismus: FS für J. Hirschberger (Frankfurt a.M., 1965), 199-218, 215. 49 De opif. 4,16-9. 50 Ep. 65,7. On the possible influence Philo may have had on Seneca, see Roberto Radice, Platonismo e Creazionismo in Filone di Alessandria, Metafisica del platonismo nel suo sviluppo storico e nella filosofia patristica 7 (Milano, 1989), 281-309. However, it cannot be ruled out that there was a common philosophical source for both authors, now lost. For a discussion on the place of ideas in the history of Platonism, see Heinrich Dörrie † and Matthias Baltes, Die philosophische Lehre des Platonismus. Platonische Physik (im antiken Verständnis) II, Der Platonismus in der Antike 5 (Stuttgart, Bad Cannstatt, 1998), 56-70 and 312-36. 51 Didasc. 9 (163,14-7); see J.M. Dillon (ed.), Alcinous, The Handbook of Platonism (1993), 93-100. 52 For the history of this idea in the Christian authors, see Harry A. Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Church Fathers, vol. I: Faith, Trinity, Incarnation, Structure and Growth of Philosophic Systems from Plato to Spinoza 3 (Cambridge, MA, 1956), 257-86; Salvatore Lilla, ‘Die Lehre von den Ideen als Gedanken Gottes im griechischen patristischen Denken’, in Herbert Eisenberger (ed.), ERMHNEYMATA, Festschrift für H. Hörner (Heidelberg, 1990), 27-50. 53 Plotinus, Enn. V 5(32),2. 54 Enn. V 9(5),6,1-3; 8,1-4. 55 Enn. V 9(5),5. 56 Enn. V 9(5),9. 57 Origen, De princ. I 2,3 (SC 252, 114); I 4,4-5; Comm. Ioh. I 19,111.113-5 (SC 120, 116-20); C. Cels. V 22 (SC 147, 68); Philo of Alexandria, De opif. 5,20. On Philo’s probable influence, see H.A. Wolfson, The Philosophy, I (1956), 271-80. However, the relationship between Philo’s God and this Logos is somewhat unclear; for more details, see D.T. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato (1986), 446-51 and 440-1; id. (ed.), Philo of Alexandria, On the Creation of the Cosmos according to Moses, Philo of Alexandria Commentary Series 1 (Leiden, 2001), 142-3; R. Radice, Platonismo e Creazionismo (1989), 202-14. On this point, Philo bequeathed an ambiguous legacy to his followers: the archetypal world not only as God’s creation, but also as God’s mind itself, or as the divine Logos acting as a mediator of cosmogenesis.

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mentions the logoi of future things (τῶν ἐσομένων λόγους)58 in the divine Wisdom. Very similarly as Augustine later on, Origen identifies this Logos or Wisdom which includes the logoi of all things with the second hypostasis of the Christian Trinitarian God.59 In a rather enigmatic passage in De principiis, Origen rejects the ἰδέας of the Greeks as imagines quasdam, which consist in sola mentis fantasia uel cogitationum lubrico.60 According to H.A. Wolfson, this wording is not to be ascribed to Rufinus’ translation but seems to be partly taken from Philo together with the idea of the intelligible archetype of the corporeal world.61 As H.A. Wolfson and G.R. Boys-Stones put it, Origen perhaps wanted to reject the Stoic misinterpretation of Platonic ideas as mere concepts of the human mind62 or, as H. Crouzel and M. Simonetti suggest, he tried to avoid the idea of the intelligible world as separated from God’s Wisdom and Logos.63 It does not seem very probable that Origen ascribed the ideas to the human mind, not to the divine one, and rejected the Platonic world of ideas altogether as R.M. Berchman puts it (according to this interpreter, Origen considered a potential prefiguration of genera and species in the divine Logos, which only becomes actualized in the material things).64 Origen speaks very clearly about the intelligible world (νοητὸς κόσμος) in the Commentary on John65 or about the Platonic ideas as a (lost) chance of recognizing God, in his polemics Against Celsus.66 Whatever the case may be, Origen explains that the world of ideas, 58 Comm. Ioh. I 19,114 (SC 120, 120): Οἶμαι γάρ, ὥσπερ κατὰ τοὺς ἀρχιτεκτονικοὺς τύπους οἰκοδομεῖται ἢ τεκταίνεται οἰκία καὶ ναῦς, ἀρχὴν τῆς οἰκίας καὶ τῆς νεὼς ἐχόντων τοὺς ἐν τῷ τεχνίτῃ τύπους καὶ λόγους, οὕτω τὰ σύμπαντα γεγονέναι κατὰ τοὺς ἐν τῇ σοφίᾳ προτρανωθέντας ὑπὸ θεοῦ τῶν ἐσομένων λόγους. 59 De princ. I 2,3 (SC 252, 114); De princ. I 4,4 (SC 252, 170); Comm. Ioh. I 19,111.113-5 (SC 120, 120-2); I 34,244 (SC 120, 180); C. Cels. V 39 (SC 147, 118). See Henri Crouzel, Théologie de l’image de Dieu chez Origène, Théologie 34 (Paris, 1956), 122-4. Jean Pépin, ‘La doctrine augustinienne des rationes aeternae. Affinités, origines’, in Marta Fattori and Massimo L. Bianchi (eds), Ratio. VII Colloquio Internazionale, Roma, 9-11 gennaio 1992, Lessico intellettuale europeo 61 (Firenze, 1994), 47-68, 60-8. 60 De princ. II 3,6 (SC 252, 266). 61 H.A. Wolfson, The Philosophy, I (1956), 270-1. 62 Ibid. 273-4; George R. Boys-Stones, ‘Time, Creation and Mind of God: The Afterlife of a Platonist Theory in Origen’, Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 40 (2011), 319-37, 334. Origen’s knowledge of the debate over the Stoic theory of universals seems to be demonstrated in Comm. Ioh. II 13,93 (SC 120, 270); see G.R. Boys-Stones, ibid. 33443. 63 Henri Crouzel and Manlio Simonetti, in SC 253, 150. 64 R.M. Berchman, From Philo to Origen (1984), 129-31 and 189. In a similar vein M.J. Edwards, Origen against Plato (2002), 64-5. 65 Comm. Ioh. XIX 22,146 (SC 290, 134). 66 C. Cels. VI 4 (SC 147, 186); on this passage cf. G.R. Boys-Stones, ‘Time, Creation and Mind of God’ (2011), 335. Thus it does not seem entirely correct when some scholars argue that the doctrine of ideas plays no role in Origen’s thinking, see Hal Koch, Pronoia und Paideusis. Studien über Origenes und sein Verhältnis zum Platonismus, Arbeiten zur Kirchengeschichte 22 (Berlin, Leipzig, 1932), 255-6; R.M. Berchman, From Philo to Origen (1984), 129.

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as depicted by the Greeks, is not to be identified with ‘the other world’ implied in Jesus’ words ‘I am not of this world’ (John 8:33).67 As H.A. Wolfson observes,68 it is striking that Augustine in the early dialogue De ordine also infers from Jesus’ words ‘My kingdom is not from this world’ (John 18:36) that there must be ‘another (i.e. intelligible) world’.69 Even though in his Retractationes later on Augustine rejects this interpretation of the biblical line he did not repudiate the idea that the eternal ratio by which God created the world can also be called ‘the intelligible world’ (mundus intellegibilis) as Plato did.70 In this biblical interpretation, Origen and Augustine share the question concerning the intelligible world as implied in Jesus’ words, although only in his Retractationes Augustine comes to a similar argumentation as found in Rufinus’ translation of De principiis. Unlike the ideas in the divine mind, the ideas of individuals seem to be far from obvious in the Platonic tradition. This conception is first witnessed by Plotinus71 who, without arriving at a clear answer, asked the question whether or not only species of living beings and their qualities but also individual beings have their own ideas, in a short treatise called [Περὶ τοῦ] Εἰ καὶ τῶν καθ’ἐκαστά εἰσιν ἰδέαι, Enn. V 7 (18).72 67 De princ. II 3,6 (SC 252, 264-6): Designat sane et alium quendam mundum praeter hunc visibilem etiam dominus et salvator noster, quem re vera describere ac designare difficile est; ait namque: ‘Ego non sum ex hoc mundo’. 68 H.A. Wolfson, The Philosophy, I (1956), 280. 69 De ord. I 11,32 (CChr.SL 29, 106): Esse autem alium mundum ab istis oculis remotissimum, quem paucorum sanorum intellectus intuetur, satis ipse Christus significat, qui non dicit: ‘regnum meum non est de mundo’, sed: ‘regnum meum non est de hoc mundo’ (John 18:36). 70 Retract. I 3,2 (CChr.SL 57, 12-3): … displicet mihi … quod duos mundos, unum sensibilem alterum intellegibilem, non ex Platonis vel ex Platonicorum persona, sed ex mea sic commendavi, tamquam hoc etiam dominus significare voluerit, quia non ait: ‘Regnum meum non est de mundo’, sed: ‘Regnum meum non est de hoc mundo’ (John 18:36), cum possit et aliqua locutione dictum inveniri, et si alius a domino Christo significatus est mundus, ille congruentius possit intellegi, in quo erit ‘caelum novum et terra nova’ (Isa. 65:17; 66:22; 2Pet. 3:13; Apoc. 21:1), quando complebitur quod oramus dicentes: ‘Adveniat regnum tuum’ (Matt. 6:10). Nec Plato quidem in hoc erravit, quia esse mundum intellegibilem dixit, si non vocabulum quod ecclesiasticae consuetudini in re illa inusitatum est, sed ipsam rem velimus attendere. Mundum quippe ille intellegibilem nuncupavit ipsam rationem sempiternam atque incommutabilem, qua fecit deus mundum. Quam qui esse negat, sequitur ut dicat inrationabiliter deum fecisse quod fecit aut, cum faceret vel antequam faceret, nescisse quid faceret, si apud eum ratio faciendi non erat. Si vero erat, sicut erat, ipsam videtur Plato vocasse intellegibilem mundum. Nec tamen isto nomine nos uteremur, si iam satis essemus litteris ecclesiasticis eruditi. 71 J.M. Rist supposes as a possible source of Plotinus’ interest in individuals the stoic category of ἰδίως ποιόν (see John M. Rist, ‘Forms of Individuals in Plotinus’, Classical Quarterly, N.S. 13 [1963], 223-31, 229-30). On Plotinus’ place in the history of the Platonic doctrine of ideas, see Franco Ferrari, ‘Esistono forme di καθ´ἕκαστα? Il problema dell’individualità in Plotino e nella tradizione platonica antica’, Accademia delle Scienze di Torino, Atti Sc. morali 131 (1997), 23-63, 26-31. 72 I dealt with this treatise in my previous paper, SP 70 (2013), 477-9.

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As already mentioned, Origen presents the divine Wisdom as the place of ideas. In his exposition of the Christological titles,73 he introduces Wisdom in its cosmogonic role as the very first title and states that it includes ‘the species and ideas of the whole creation’ (species scilicet in se et rationes totius praeformans et continens creaturae).74 Besides genera and species, Origen also considers the eternal presence of individuals in this divine archetype (sine dubio omnia vel genera vel species fuerunt semper, et fortassis etiam per singula).75 Also in his polemic against Celsus, preserved in Greek, Origen mentions ‘the ideas of individual things (οἱ περὶ ἑκάστου λόγοι), which are included in the divine Logos as parts of a whole or as several species in a genus’.76 What seems less clear is his statement in the Commentary on John, where he also speaks about the models (τύποι) included in the divine Wisdom, according to which this Wisdom gives to beings and to matter both a formation (τὴν πλάσιν) and different species (τὰ εἴδη). Rather enigmatically, Origen adds: ‘And I wonder whether also the substances (τὰς οὐσίας)’.77 It is far from sure, albeit not excluded either, that by αἱ οὐσίαι he could have meant ‘the individual substances’ besides the species.78 It is not clear either whether speaking about heavenly ‘images and likenesses’ or rationes of the individual seeds, plants and animals in his Commentary on Canticle, Origen has the ideas of individuals or those of species in mind.79 Nebridius’ question, as Augustine quotes it, does not speak about the ‘ideas’ of individuals but about rationes. This Latin term translates the Greek λόγοι, as we meet it in Plotinus and Origen (translated by Rufinus). We do not know in the case of Nebridius, but Augustine regarded the Greek λόγοι as identical with ἰδέαι, as we know from his short treatise Quaestio de ideis.80 According to Nebridius’ question, these ideas are contained in the ‘supreme Truth’ or ‘supreme Wisdom’, i.e. in the Son as the second person of the 73 De princ. I 2,1 (SC 252, 110); I 2,13 (SC 252, 142); Comm. Ioh. I 19,118 (SC 120, 122); I 21,125 (SC 120, 126). 74 De princ. I 2,3 (SC 252, 114). 75 De princ. I 4,5 (SC 252, 172). 76 C. Cels. V 22 (SC 147, 68): … οἱ περὶ ἑκάστου λόγοι ὄντες ὡς ἐν ὅλῳ μέρη ἢ ὡς ἐν γένει εἴδη τοῦ ‘ἐν ἀρχῇ’ λόγου ‘πρὸς τὸν θεὸν’ θεοῦ λόγου. See John 1:1. 77 Comm. Ioh. I 19,115 (SC 120, 122): Καὶ λεκτέον ὅτι κτίσας, ἵν’ οὕτως εἴπω, ἔμψυχον σοφίαν ὁ θεός, αὐτῇ ἐπέτρεψεν ἀπὸ τῶν ἐν αὐτῇ τύπων τοῖς οὖσι καὶ τῇ ὕλῃ τὴν πλάσιν καὶ τὰ εἴδη, ἐγὼ δὲ ἐφίστημι εἰ καὶ τὰς οὐσίας. 78 Cécile Blanc translates τὰς οὐσίας as ‘l’existence’ (SC 120, 123). 79 Comm. Cant. III 13,10.12 (SC 376, 630): … ita etiam ceteras creaturas ad alias quasdam caelestes imagines per similitudinem condidit; et fortasse in tantum singula quaeque quae in terris sunt habent aliquid imaginis et similitudinis caelestibus … Sic ergo possibile est etiam cetera semina quae sunt in terris ut habeant aliquid in caelestibus similitudinis ac rationis. Quod si semina, sine dubio et virgulta; et si virgulta, sine dubio et animantia vel alitum vel repentium et quadrupedum. 80 See De diversis quaestionibus LXXXIII, q. 46,2 (CChr.SL 44A, 71.22-6).

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Christian God. As in Origen, this notion is taken for granted, but it is arguable whether it contains only the idea of man generally (generaliter [ratio] hominis), or the idea ‘of each one of us’ (uniuscuiusque nostrum ratio) as well. It is symptomatic that like Plotinus in Enn. V 7(18),1, Nebridius asks about human individuals, and Augustine’s answer also aims at demonstrating the idea of Nebridius. Origen, on the other hand, considers λόγους and οὐσίας quite generally without restricting them explicitly to human individuals. In his reply to Nebridius, Augustine makes a distinction between two perspectives or plans: the creation of man, where he posits only a general idea of man, on the one hand, and the ‘realm of time’, where he introduces a multitude of various ideas (rationes) of individual men, on the other.81 Even if these ideas in the plural relate to the ‘realm of time’, they are eternal. We find this idea in a more developed form in Augustine’s later treatise De Trinitate.82 In Origen’s comments too, the ideas of individuals clearly have a cosmogonic role; even divine Wisdom, which contains them, can be labelled as ‘created’ (creata, see Prov. 8:22-3) because of them,83 although it is eternally born from God the Father without any beginning, according to Rufinus’ translation of De principiis.84 The ideas (species, rationes, or νοήματα, τύποι, λόγοι),85 as a kind of pre-figurations of all things, are thus ever-present in the divine Wisdom,86 although the creation is not uncreated or co-eternal to God like the Wisdom itself.87 In his answer to Nebridius, Augustine does not explicitly touch on the question of whether these ideas are created or uncreated. However, in his short treatise De ideis, mentioned above, he claims very clearly that the ideas included in the divine intelligence (intellegentia) are uncreated, like this intelligence itself.88 Similarly, in his later work De civitate Dei, Augustine claims

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Ep. 14,4 (CChr.SL 31, 34.54-35.58): Sed mihi uidetur quod ad hominem faciendum attinet, hominis quidem tantum, non meam uel tuam ibi esse rationem, quod autem ad orbem temporis, uarias hominum rationes in illa sinceritate uiuere. 82 De Trin. IV 1,3 (CChr.SL 50, 162.39-45); cf. also De Trin. VI 10,11 (CChr.SL 50, 241.24-8). 83 De princ. I 2,2 (SC 252, 114). In this sense, Christ too is called ‘the firstborn of every creature’ (Col. 1:15), cf. De princ. I 2,1 (SC 252, 112). See also Comm. Ioh. I 19,115 (SC 120, 122). 84 De princ. I 2,2 (SC 252, 114). The birth of Wisdom is an ‘eternal and perpetual birth, as the resplendence radiates from light’ (aeterna ac sempiterna generatio, sicut splendor generatur ex luce), De princ. I 2,4 (SC 252, 118). On the Wisdom ‘created before the ages’ by God her Father ‘because of his works’ (Prov. 8:22-3 LXX), see Com. Ioh. XIX 6,36 (SC 290, 68). On God, who gave birth (genuerit) to his Wisdom, cf. also Comm. Rom. X 43,6-7 (SC 555, 446). 85 De princ. I 2,3 (SC 252, 114); Comm. Ioh. I 19,111.113-5 (SC 120, 120-2). 86 De princ. I 4,5 (SC 252, 172): … cum sapientia semper fuerit, secundum praefigurationem et praeformationem semper erant in sapientia ea, quae protinus etiam substantialiter facta sunt. Comm. Ioh. I 19,114 (SC 120, 120): … τὰ σύμπαντα γεγονέναι κατὰ τοὺς ἐν τῇ σοφίᾳ προτρανωθέντας ὑπὸ θεοῦ τῶν ἐσομένων λόγους. 87 De princ. I 4,5 (SC 252, 172): … neque ingenitas et coaeternas deo creaturas dicamus. 88 De div. quaest. LXXXIII 46,2 (CChr.SL 44A, 71.26-32).

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that the divine Wisdom (like Plotinus’ Intellect)89 is what it includes (sed quae habet, haec et est) and what it unifies by its own unity.90 The ideas of individuals also seem to be an eternal part of the divine Wisdom. As they are eternally anchored in God’s Wisdom, individual human beings can reach a community in God beyond space, as Augustine reminds Nebridius in his consolatory letter 9,1.91 Also in Origen’s eyes, all logical beings together create an initial and final community in the Logos of God.92 In order to explain the ideas of individuals, Augustine employs a geometric analogy of an idea or a definition (ratio) of a square in our minds, which is different from the idea of an angle, one which includes four angles. According to this analogy, in creating the world, God must have not only the idea of man but also ideas of many people, including Nebridius, as the parts of the world or of ‘the whole people’.93 The construction of geometric objects is also dealt with in Plato’s Timaeus, where the mathematical constitution of the four elements is explained. The fourth of them, i.e. Earth, is composed of symmetric hexahedra (i.e. cubes), whose base (a square) is formed of four isosceles triangles (Tim. 55b).94 This passage of Plato’s dialogue is available neither in Cicero’s translation (at least as we know it) nor in Calcidius’ translation and commentary. Nevertheless, it might have been included in a doxographic work based on Plato’s Timaeus and known to Augustine, and it might have loosely inspired his geometric analogy (even if it does not speak about four triangles, but just about four angles which constitute a square). Whatever the case may be, we do not meet any allusion to a similar geometric speculation in Origen’s comments on the ideas of individuals, as far as I can see. The only similarity I could find is Origen’s statement in Contra Celsum according to which the logoi of individuals are like parts of a whole of the divine Logos.95 89

Enn. V 9(5),6,1-2; 8,2-4. De civ. Dei XI 10 (CChr.SL 48, 331.71-332.78). 91 Augustine, Ep. 9,1 (CChr.SL 31, 21.7-11): Confer te ad animum tuum, et illum in deum leua quantum potes! Ibi enim certius habes et nos, non per corporeas imagines quibus nunc in nostra recordatione uti necesse est, sed per illam cogitationem qua intellegis non loco esse nos simul. See also Conf. IX 3,6 (CChr.SL 27, 136). 92 Origen, Comm. Ioh. I 19,11 (SC 120, 120); De princ. III 6,2-3 (SC 268, 238-40). 93 Ep. 14,4 (CChr.SL 31, 35.60-8): Nam in disciplina metiendi una est anguli ratio una quadrati. Itaque quotiens demonstrare angulum uolo, non nisi una ratio anguli mihi occurrit; sed quadratum nequaquam scriberem, nisi quattuor simul angulorum rationem intuerer. Ita quilibet homo una ratione qua homo intellegitur factus (rather than facta) est; at ut populus fiat, quamuis et ipsa una ratio, non tamen hominis ratio sed hominum. Si igitur pars huius uniuersi est Nebridius sicut est, et omne uniuersum partibus confit, non potuit uniuersi conditor deus rationem partium non habere. 94 Tim. 55b4-7: … τὸ δὲ ἰσοσκελὲς τρίγωνον ἐγέννα τὴν τοῦ τετάρτου φύσιν, κατὰ τέτταρα συνιστάμενον, εἰς τὸ κέντρον τὰς ὀρθὰς γωνίας συνάγον, ἓν ἰσόπλευρον τετράγωνον ἀπεργασάμενον. 95 C. Cels. V 22 (SC 147, 68). 90

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Conclusion In both questions treated in letter 14, we can see several points of contact between Nebridius and Augustine, on the one hand, and Origen on the other. Both Origen and Augustine take the Platonic idea of the souls of stars into consideration. However, whereas Origen seems to be quite sure on this issue, Augustine’s reflections are rather tentative. In his letter 14 to Nebridius, it is even not clear whether Augustine is speaking about the souls of individual stars or only of one soul of the world. The ideas of individuals, called rationes (logoi) by Nebridius, Augustine, and Origen, are, for all three authors, contained in the divine Wisdom and have a clearly cosmogonic function. Nevertheless, these ideas seem to be regarded as uncreated by Augustine (in his other writings), while for Origen they represent an aspect of God’s Wisdom related to the creation which makes even the Wisdom to be called ‘created’. Like Plotinus, both Nebridius and Augustine seem to be especially interested in the ideas of individual human beings, which is not so much the case in Origen. Nor can we identify any counterpart to Augustine’s geometric analogy in Origen’s reflections on the topic. In spite of several similarities, we thus cannot conclude with certainty that Augustine or Nebridius made any direct use of Origen’s comments on these questions. Both for Nebridius in formulating his questions and for Augustine in answering them in his letter, the Platonic Timaeus or a doxographic work based on it, together with some extracts from Plotinus’ Enneads, seem to be the basic context. The ideas of all created things in the Logos or the Wisdom of God, although probably not the ideas of individuals, were transmitted to the Christian authors by Philo of Alexandria. The similarity of both motifs in letter 14 on the one hand and some of Origen’s statements on the other can rather be explained by common sources, although a vague awareness of Origen’s ideas on the part of the early Augustine and his philosophical friend cannot be excluded either.

Augustinian Interiority and Platonic Dialectics: From Cassiciacum to Confessions Oscar VELÁSQUEZ, Santiago de Chile, Chile

ABSTRACT I suggest that both the Platonic Dialectic and the Augustinian Interiority are intimately related from the Cassiciacum dialogues onwards. Both have a similar spiritual character that leads to the search for intelligible truth. Plato is present in St Augustine. I argue that the dialectical method has in Plato two variants present in particular in the Republic and in the Phaedo. Both methods are present and combined in a special way from Cassiciacum onwards. The former is accomplished through paideia, the latter through a ‘shortcut’ (ἀτραπός τις, Phd. 66b) that leads into the interior self. The second method shows its close relationship with a philosophy of Interiority. In the Augustine of Confessions, Dialectics is the uia or the way of encounter with Christ, the Truth. The dialogues De ordine and Contra academicos will reveal direct links with Dialectics, besides those texts clearly originating from Plato, Plotinus and possibly, Porphyry. It is suggested that a full mature method of a Christian methodic path to truth will culminate in Confessions: the Verb is the true uia of salvation.

I would like to present, in the first place, the main points of this article. I wish first to specify my vocabulary and its senses. The method that identifies Plato historically is Dialectics, and the knowledge that defines it are the intelligible Forms. It is the theory of intelligible Forms. In other words, Platonic Dialectics is the procedure by which reason finds its way to intelligible truth. Dialectics is the method, intelligible Form is the finding, the idéa, the eidos.1 The central ἰδέα is the truth (R. 508e), which leads to the understanding of an intelligible world, τόπος νοητός.2 But even the Good is an idéa, ἡ τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ ἰδέα.3 Its knowledge provides the mégiston mathema, i.e. ‘the greatest instruction’. The idea of Good is also,‘the furthest in the region from the known and is barely seen’.4 This idea as such is sovereign and supreme, so that theory properly culminates in the finding of intelligible truth. But there are two representations of the method in Plato, one that we find most significantly in the Phaedo (Phd. 64e-68b, al.), and another, magnificently 1 2 3 4

Plato, R. V 479a, VI 486d, 505a, VII 517b, X 597a, Phdr. 265d, Smp. 210b, Phd. 102e. R. VII 516, VII 517. R. VI 505a, VII 517b. R. VII 517b-c: ἐν τῷ γνωστῷ τελευταία ἡ τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ ἰδέα καὶ μόγις ὁρᾶσθαι.

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staged in the Republic’s Cavern (ἡ διαλεκτικὴ μέθοδος, R. VII 533c, τὸ διαλέγεσθαι, 532a). They are two moments of the theory of Forms, but both lead to the same object, the intelligible truth. One is the short method (ὥσπερ ἀτραπός τις: ‘a type of short cut’, Phd. 66b); the other, from Republic, is ‘the longer’ (μεθόδων … ἄλλη γὰρ μακροτέρα καὶ πλείων ὁδός, R. IV 435d). With the second one, a politeia could be found. In the case of the Phaedo, a philosophy of intimacy, from which a philosophy of interiority subsequently emerged. With a remarkable ability to understand the meaning of ‘Augustinian interiority’, J. Oroz Reta refers to a ‘wonderful spiritual event’ in Confessions VII 16.5 Understanding what Interiority implies ‘l’ingresso dell’anima in questa meravigliosa regione interiore, dove è possibile contemplare le realtà spirituali ed eterne’.6 Correctly, in my opinion, the author relates the very act of the event of entering into itself with the possibility of contemplation of transcendent reality. From here we should start, I think, in order to clear the way about the understanding of Interiority, a term that in vain we would try to find as a noun in Augustine or the Platonists. Neither in Latin nor in Greek. This original linguistic core rules above all other later possible meaning. The great Madec was satisfied, as far as I know, to mention the matter en passant, without going into further analysis.7 Because there are no nouns to express ‘interiority’. The linguistic substrate of the idea is usually expressed in adverbs and conjunctions, in both Greek and Latin languages. Latin developed interior, in fact a comparative adjective formed from inter. Similarly the Greek, ἐνδότερος, ‘inner’, connected with ἐνδοτέρω, an adverbial comparative from ἔνδον. Here is the adverbs that rule: ἔσω, εἴσω, ἐντός, intus, interius. This should open room for another work, which could produce a major change in our perception of this whole matter. Because, as such, ‘interiority’ doesn’t exist. And if it exists, Aristotelically speaking, it is in the way that the remaining categories subsist in the substance. From here, in our times, a doctrine has been built on this sort of permanent condition of the human spirit, called interiority. But where are the fundamentals of this?8 5 José Oroz Reta, ‘Dall’interiorità dell’anima alla contemplazione di Dio nel De Trinitate di Sant’Agostino’, in Luigi Alici (ed.), Interiorità e Intenzionalità in S. Agostino, Studia Ephemeridis “Augustinianum” 32 (Roma, 1990), 85-106, 88. The text of Confessiones VII 16 is that which begins: et inde admonitus redire ad memetipsum intravi…. See also Ragnar Holte, ‘Faith and Interiority’, in L. Alici (ed.), Interiorità e Intenzionalità in S. Agostino (1990), 71-83. 6 J. Oroz Reta, ‘Dall’interiorità dell’anima alla contemplazione di Dio’ (1990), 88. 7 Goulven Madec, ‘Conversion, Intériorité, Intentionnalité’, in L. Alici (ed.), Interiorità e Intenzionalità in S. Agostino (1990), 7-19, 10: ‘Mais j’aimerais, pour ma petite part, instaurer une définition plus stricte de l’intériorité augustinienne, en observant d’abord du point de vue grammatical: comme substantif d’un comparatif’. 8 I have tried to understand what are the foundations of the ‘Augustinian interiority’ in certain articles, but in vain. I wonder what is meant by interiority when talking about it in articles like ‘Interiorità e Persona’. They reveal an interesting effort to update the thought of St Augustine, but they reveal little to me about the Augustinian interiority itself. See, for instance, Giorgio Santi,

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That is perhaps why we could say that interiority resembles a ‘state of character’ as Aristotle would like, a hexis. A hardly removable condition of the human spirit when, laboriously, the human being acquires it. But what happens is that there is a noun here, and that is man. There is a subject, with a quality. It is the Inner Man: homo interior. On the other hand, there is an object, now Augustinianly speaking, the God Truth. And here Madec almost hit the mark again, when he says, at the end of his remarkable article: ‘car en définitive l’interiorité ne s’apprend pas, elle s’exerce’.9 True, interiority exercises itself in the act of man seeking and finding the truth; but it does not seem correct to state that interiority is not learned, since here the method is inseparable from the object found by the human mind. Method and finding make up an indivisible continuity as an act of reason in search of truth. So, interiority is learned. Now, Dialectics is a tekhne, an art (Phdr. 276e), a method (R. 533c), a science (Sph. 253d). In Republic it ‘is situated at the top, as a vault for the other sciences’ (R. VII 534e). And above all, the dialectic method is an action of thought, an activity, which can be expressed verbally: τὸ διαλέγεσθαι, turns out to be an epistēmē (R. 511c), and a dýnamis (R. 532d). Hence scholars rightly speak of ‘intentionality’.10 And of course, we can say about Dialectics also that it is nothing in itself, because it is the object, that leads, to which ultimately matters. That is to say, the intelligible idea, the eidos, the form and the truth. For the same reasons, Dialectics is not comparable with mysticism, since it acts on the level of discursive reason.11 Hence, ‘interiority’ also, as a cultural and historical event, could not be built on the mere basis of a few neo-testamentary phrases. Now, the dialectical finding of this eidos entails the attainment of truth through thought. A truth that also means the encounter of the mundus intellegibilis, a topos noētós.12 So it also means the encounter of the spirit with an ideal mundus of the entitative realities as a whole. Truth expresses itself in Forms, Ideas (ἰδέαι, εἴδη), and as a whole, as intelligible truth. The Forms are ‘being’.13

‘Interiorità e Persona’, in Remo Piccolomini (ed.), Interiorità e Intenzionalità nel “De civitate Dei” di Sant’Agostino, Studia Ephemeridis “Augustinianum” 35 (Roma, 1991), 175-84. 9 G. Madec, ‘Conversion, Intériorité, Intentionnalité’ (1990), 19. 10 Ibid. 14: ‘C’est dans l’acte d’intériorité que l’esprit prend conscience de la spécificité de son activité spirituelle, de son intentionnalité’. See Ubaldo Pizzani, ‘Intentio ed Escatologia nel sesto libro De Musica di di S. Agostino’, in L. Alici (ed.), Interiorità e Intenzionalità in S. Agostino (1990), 35-57. 11 On the immensity of problems that it brings with it in the matter of Augustinian mysticism, I wish to refer to the single, formidable article by André Mandouze, ‘Où est la question de la mystique augustinienne?’, in André Mandouze, Avec et pour Augustin, ed. Luce Pietri et Christine Mandouze (Paris, 2013), 403-82. 12 R. VI 509d; 508c, VII 516b, 532a. 13 τὸ ὄν, R. V 477, VI 508d, VII 521c, IX 182c, Ti. 27d, 52d.

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This was also seen by those called Platonics by Augustine, especially Plotinus and Porphyry. The Dialectic of the Phaedo is clearly one of interiority; that of the Republic one of objectivity or transcendence, since it implies the existence of an objective reality, the encounter with both an intelligible good and truth. The term ‘Dialectic’ in the strict sense is a conquest of the Republic and the Phaedrus.14 In Phaedo, the last stretch of the Cave is, so to speak, in soul and understanding. The object of the hunting for being is achieved through an act of recueillement of soul: πρὸς τὴν ψυχὴν τέτραφθαι (Phd. 64e, cf. 82d). In the Phaedo there is, we could say, a representation of the small letters, and in the Republic another of the large letters of the social and political world (see R. 368d). But both continue to have the same objective, and will open the way for a representation of intimacy, on the one hand (Phaedo), and of transcendence on the other (Republic). The second point about terminology is about the meanings of Dialectics and of uia. As we have seen, Dialectics in Plato is the path of mind to intelligible truth, the method par excellence of reason in its quest of truth, being, and intelligible good. Thus, in the two Platonic dialogues that I have given as examples there is a description of the planning of reason in its search and finding of the intelligible truth and being. St Augustine, on the other hand, as a rhetorician, uses almost exclusively the term Dialectic, as ‘the science of good argument’: dialectica est bene disputadi scientia (dial. 1, 5). We find these meanings also in the Greek dialectikē. Now I wish to show that the November dialogues of Cassiciacum refer, in crucial paragraphs, to another type of Dialectic, that he calls the perfect dialectic (Acad. 3, 13). Now, this is Plato’s method. And this meaning prevails only in Cassiciacum, because in Confessions the word uia will replace the Platonic term Dialectics. In the Confessions we will find his mature personal understanding of Dialectics. This, I gather, is the Augustinian uia. Now, uia in Latin, points to, ‘a track made for the purpose of travel’, a journey, and the march, the course itself. It also means ‘a way of proceeding’, in our case, ‘method’.15 These meanings, I think, will further clarify the fact that, in my opinion, the ‘perfect dialectic’ is what in Confessiones shall be called uia. It is the Augustinian Christian assimilation of Platonic Dialectics. The term uia had already been a subject of discussion since the Contra Academicos, and it had been concluded there that it was ‘the diligent search for truth’.16 This was very much in line with the importance that the term would have to play in the Confessions. Thus, like Dialectics, uia is the methodical way for truth, the Verb, Christ: sed non nouerunt uiam, Verbum tuum (conf. V 5). See τὸ διαλέγεσθαι, VII 525d, 532a, d; ἡ διαλεκτικὴ μέθοδος, VII 533c. See Oxford Latin Dictionary. 16 Acad. I 14: Nam uia, quae ducit ad ueritatem, nulla, uti opinor, intellegitur melius quam diligens inquisitio ueritatis. 14 15

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It is the ‘way of humility’, the uia humilitatis (conf. VII 13), because it confronts the Platonic Dialectic of Paganism to the search for Truth through the Verbum. Christ is the way that leads not only to contemplate the homeland of bliss, but also to inhabit it (conf. VII 26). It is interesting to note that this is said in the context of the same important paragraph 26 of Book VII of Confessions, which begins significantly: Sed tunc lectis Platonicorum illis libris… (conf. VII 26). To these terminological precisions, I shall add below the points that I wish to enunciate here, with concise brevity. I consider them as hypotheses since they are proposed rather dogmatically. These proposals are born from my reflections about the space and time of Milan, his conversion, baptism, and especially, his stay in Cassiciacum. Cassiciacum represents the first serious attempt in his search for a otium honestum compatible with his ‘still nascent ascetic ideal’.17 Of special importance here are the three dialogues of November 386, i.e. Contra academicos, De ordine, De beata uita. And the Soliloquiorum libri as well, written that winter. I will only enunciate the proposals, in the conviction that there will be almost no time for a more detailed discussion. (a) That a philosophy of intimacy is perceptible in Cassiciacum, in which Plato himself, not the Platonists, becomes mostly present. Saint Agustine makes manifest above all his understanding of the dialectical method, which leads to intelligible ideas and truth; (b) That in these circumstances, Cicero’s translation of the Timaeus becomes important. There are brief but obvious allusions, which reveal a thoughtful reading that does not come from philosophy manuals or other sources. The same can be said of passages of the Republic, which are also related, ultimately, with its Dialectic. I dare not assume that he read parts of the Phaedo, but I suspect he did. (c) That a more precise examination of the uia in Confessions reveals its deep relationship with the Platonic Dialectic. But for this to become, there was a decisive intermediary event. This is the reading of the Platonic books, especially the ‘very few books of Plotinus’ (or ‘of Plato’?).18 These gave him a real understanding of the meaning of the dialectical method, exercising as a catalyst of ideas what Augustine previously did not know fully. In other words, they reveal the full meaning of Plato’s dialectical theory. He epytomizes it: intelligible idea = intelligible truth = Word = Jesus Christ. With respect to (a), allow me then to divide the two variants of the Platonic method, into Dialectic of interiority and Dialectic of transcendence. Both 17 Dennis E. Trout, ‘Augustine at Cassiciacum: Otium Honestum and Social Dimensions of Conversion’, Vigiliae Christianae 42 (1988), 132-46, 133. 18 Beata u. I 4. Sancti Aurelii Augustini Opera XXIX pars II, 2, ed. W.M. Green (Turnhout, 1970); I read: Lectis autem Plotini paucissimis libris. But two of six main manuscripts (M S) read platonis.

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converge to the same objective, the truth and the intelligible being. They already converged with Plato and the Platonists, because the turn to interiority is not initiated only by the Platonists. In these circumstances, the emphasis on De ordine on the relationship between Dialectic and nosce te teipsum, in order to understand the beauty of the universe, reveals this turn to intimacy. Because to see the outside world is necessary for man to prepare his return to himself: animus sibi redditus (or. I 3). This ‘know yourself’ is a propaedeutic aspect of purely Socratic origin to Dialectics, which Augustine correctly refers to a sibi redditus. This means that the action of seeking wisdom consists of a ‘return to the spirit’ (πρὸς τὴν ψυχὴν τέτραφθαι, Phd. 64e). Turning to oneself means separate oneself from multitude of objects, to be alone: sola segregatione multitudinis (or. I 3). This ‘isolation’ is both existential and methodological. He reads it, it is believed, in Plotinus On the Beautiful: ἄναγε ἐπί σαυτὸν καὶ ἴδε: ‘withdraw to yourself and see’ (Enn. I 6, 9, 7-8). But this doctrine is already present in the Phaedo. This is the meaning of the Augustinian interpretation translated in its entirety: ita enim animus sibi redditus, quae sit pulchritudo iniversitatis intellegit. The intellegit (‘will understand’) interprets the ‘see’. This is for Augustine, as in the Phaedo, first a methodogical isolation (see Phd. 64c: ἀπαλλαγήν: ‘release, relief from’) and reveals an inner turn toward itself. These turns free us from the chains of ignorance by taking a distance from the senses. The paragraph of De ordine I 3 also shows another important feature of a philosophy of interiority. That soul acts through an exercise of recollection: in se ipsum colligendi. This act of recueillement also implies the need to keep the spirit in itself: atque in se ipso retinendi (ibid.). This is the beginning of the path in its quest for truth (see or. 2, 30). Now, it is Augustine himself who specifies in Contra Academicos what the study of wisdom consists of: Thus, Plato, adding his expert knowledge in natural and divine affairs to the Socratic grace and finesse that he possessed in moral matters – which he had diligently received from those whom I can remember – incorporated the dialectic (dialecticam) as the shaper of those branches of knowledge, and as its judge; Dialectics would be the wisdom (sapientia) itself or without which there could not be; it is said that he composed the perfect system of philosophy (perfectam … philosophiae disciplinam), for which there is no time to talk about now (Acad. 3, 37).

It is said here, ultimately, that the Dialectic is either wisdom itself or a knowledge without which there cannot be such truth. In fact, we have seen that it is the sine qua non method for quest of philosophical truth. This cannot be attributed to a rhetorical Dialectic. On the other hand, Platonic Dialectic is based on the verification of the existence of two topoi which in Latin were translated as mundi. They are intimately communicated by a gradual itinerary of relationships that connect the sensory with the intelligible. The task of the Dialectic is to unite and harmonize them. Augustine, then, referring to Plato says (Acad. III 37): perfectam dicitur composuisse philosophiae disciplinam.

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As the ‘perfect method’, Dialectic thus accomplishes the attainement of sapientia, in its methodologic progress towards intelligible truth. The reason we insist on these points is that, without this platonic method of truth, the theoretical foundation of his encounter with it (salvā gratiā) disappears; and, so to speak, the historical coherence of the story of his conversion vanishes. The account of Confessions – especially his conversion – loses its theorical foundation and historical credibility. Now, what we find in Contra Academicos we find repeated with important new nuances in De ordine II 47-8. Because – apparently – Augustine observed that now the liberal arts were unified by a superior knowledge. Let’s get into the idea that these arts are all illuminated by the inner fire of the Cavern. Then, when going out through the outer opening, the superior arts are finally integrated into the syllabus of the paideia of Republic. We are on a methodical path, and the neophyte approaches a discipline ‘higher and more divine’ (longe altius longeque diuinius, ibid. II 47). This is the discipline of philosophy (ibid. II 48). This is platonic Dialectics. Two are the research objects of search (duplex quaestio), he says, one about the soul, the other about God (see Sol. I 7). The first makes it possible for us to know ourselves, the other, for us to know our origin … This is the order of the studies of wisdom, whereby everyone becomes fit to understand the order of things, that is, to discern the two worlds (ad dinoscendos duos mundos) and the Father himself of the universe (et ipsum parentem universitatis), of which there is no knowledge in the soul but to know to what extent it is ignored (or. II 47).

This important paragraph from De ordine reveals one of the sources that inspire these lines in Augustine. It is the Timaeus, from Cicero’s translation: cum parentis ordinem cognouissent (Timaeus 40, 4 ss = Ti. 41a).19 The other is our ignorance of that ‘father’: parentem huius universitatis inuenire difficile est, et … indicare in vulgus nefas (Timaeus 2, 6 = Ti. 28c). In Revisions (I 3) Augustine makes clear that this doctrine of the two worlds comes from Plato20 and the Platonists. He also recognizes, in the fall of his life, that this is a true doctrine: nec Plato quidem in hoc errauit. To the testimony of De ordine is added that of Contra Academicos: Platonem sensisse duos esse mundos (Acad. 3, 37). In this paragraph we can find again traces of the Timaeus. In Augustine: nos uisu tactuque sentire; in Timaeus: cernitur et tangitur. In Augustine the sensitive world is uerisimilem, in 19

M. Tullius Cicero, Fasc. 46, De Divinatione, De Fato, Timaeus, ed. W. Ax, Bibliotheca Teubneriana (Stuttgart, 1938). 20 Retr. I 3, 1: Nec Plato quidem in hoc erravit, quia esse mundum intellegibilem dixit, si non vocabulum, quod ecclesiasticae consuetudini in re illa inusitatum est, sed ipsam rem velimus attendere. Mundum quippe ille intellegibilem nuncupavit ipsam rationem sempiternam atque incommutabilem, qua fecit deus mundum. Both Plotinus and Porphyry sustained the eternity of the world, being only Plato who spoke of a created world. The statement mundum intellegibilem nuncupavit ipsam rationem sempiternam seems like an echo of Timaeus 2, 7 (= Ti. 29a) sic ergo generatus ad id est effectus quod ratione sapientiaque comprehenditur atque aeternitati immutabili continetur.

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Timaeus: similitudinem ueri (Timaeus 3, 8). Returning to Contra Academicos, St Augustine recounts how ‘The only and true school of philosophy has spread. Because it is not a philosophy of this world … but that of the other intelligible (sed alterius intellegibilis)’ (Acad. III 42). It is certainly important pointing out that this central aspect of Plato’s doctrine is repeatedly established by Augustine.21 I suppose because it addresses the central contents of his philosophical convinctions. This is precisely the knowledge that underlies the Augustinian philosophy of the interior homo. St Augustine here somehow reconstructs the story of his reading of the Platonicorum libri. Because it seems clear to me that this central doctrine of Platonism came first directly from his readings of Plato, either by direct or indirect means. I have tried to show how in Cassiciacum certain readings seem to come directly from Plato, like the Timaeus dialogue. The sequence of time also seems to indicate that these lectures of Plato were done prior to the reading of the Platonicorum Libri. In addition to the Timaeus, there were probably direct readings of other dialogues, although perhaps partial ones. They were essential, however, for the issues we have discussed here. Some represent the core of Plato’s philosophical maturity, as the Phaedo, the Republic and the Timaeus. Those pages are most praised and commented upon by the Platonists. And now, perhaps in June 386, just a few months before the November dialogues in Cassiciacum, Augustine set out to read those ‘very few Plotinus books’ (beata u. I 4). These previous Plato readings may perhaps better explain the surprising rapidity of his understanding of the Platonicorum Libri. Hence, in Contra Academicos Augustine shows that ‘Plato’s word, which is the purest and brightest, once the clouds of error were removed, shone above all in Plotinus, the Platonic philosopher…’ (Acad. III 41). The words emicuit maxime in Plotinus seem to indicate that there were also other Platonists which he read as well. Intense months, before his reading of the Scriptures. Touching days that opened the way for Christ.

21 I have not found in Cicero the expression mundus intellegibilis, so I think St Augustine could find it in some Latin translation of Plato or another author.

What are the libri disciplinarum in Cassiciacum? Licentius’ Poem in Augustine’s Epistula 26 Kenji MIZUOCHI, Meijigakuin University, Tokyo, Japan

ABSTRACT Just after his conversion to Christianity, while staying in Cassiciacum, Augustine wrote several textbooks on the artes liberales by discussing the topic with his friends and disciples.1 The characters and the academic sources he depended on of these lost works have been, till now, conjectured mainly from his authentic works (e.g. the Cassiciacum dialogues and epistles). However, another source should not be neglected: Licentius’ poem included in Augustine’s Epistula 26. Even after Augustine returned to Africa in 388, Licentius continued his studies of the artes liberales in Milan. But, as his studies had not so rapidly and deeply developed as he had wished at the beginning, he wrote a hexameter, and, in 395, sent it to Augustine in Africa. In this article, I would like to analyze Licentius’ poem philologically, by utilizing Martianus Capella’s De nuptiis Merrcurii et Philologiae2 – based on Varro3 – in support of the analysis, and show the characters of libri disciplinarum of Augustine.4

1. The Intention of the Poem The poem begins with these verses: Scanning the mystery-haunted way of Varro, the profound, My mind falters and, frightened of the light, essays to flee. No strange thing that; for all my zeal for study falls away, And fears to stand alone without thy helping hand. (vv. 1-4)5 1 Retr. I c. 6: Per idem tempus, quo Medialani fui baptismum percepturus, etiam disciplinarum libros conatus sum scribere interrogans eos, qui mecum erant atque ab huiusmodi studiis non abhorrebant, per corporalia cupiens ad incorporalia quibusdam quasi passibus certis uel peruenire uel ducere. 2 Martianus Capella, ed. Adolfus Dick (Stuttgart, 1978); Martianus Capella, Die Hochzeit der Philologia mit Merkur, Übers. u. Anmerkungen v. Hans Günter Zekl (Würzburg, 2005); Martianus Capella and the Seven Liberal Arts II. The Marriage of Philology and Mercury, trans. William H. Stahl, Richard Johnson with E.L. Burge (New York, 1977). 3 On the fact that De nuptiis is based on Varro, see De nuptiis 335, 578, 639, 662, and 928, where the name ‘Varro’ or ‘Marcus Terrentius’ appears. 4 I used the following editions. Latin Text: CSEL 34, 89-95; English Translation: Saint Augustine Letters I, trans. W. Parsons, The Fathers of the Church 12 (Washington, 1951), 77-83. 5 Vv. 1-4: Arcanum Varronis iter scrutando profundi // mens hebet, aduersamque fugit conterrita lucem. // nec mirum, iacet omnis enim mea cura legendi // te non dante manum, et consurgere sola ueretur.

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In these verses, Licentius laments the profoundness and abstrusities of the works of Marcus Terentius Varro (116-127 BC).6 He confesses that, though having strong zeal for the studies of Varro, he cannot understand his works without Augustine’s help. And at the end of the poem, Licentius entreats Augustine to send him Augustine’s work De musica. Meantime, whatever writings of thy pen shall come …, all these Shall make thee present – yea thy very self to me, If thou wilt favor me, and send those books, in which Thy gentle music rests; for them my spirit yearns. (vv. 145-51)7

2. Plenty of Information concerning the Artes Liberales When we survey the contents of the poem, we notice that plenty of information concerning the artes liberales is given throughout the poem. 2.1. Pythagorean Mysticism of Number (vv. 6-7) and Musica In vv. 6-7, Licentius sings that Varro bestowed the sounds of rhythm (numerus) upon his wisdom, and taught that the world is singing and dancing in accordance with Jupiter in the form of graceful bands (choreae = χοροί). To which he gave the sounds of rhythm, and world he taught To sing and dance in graceful bands to hail the Thunderer, (vv. 6-7)8

These expressions presuppose the Pythagorean mysticism of number dealt with in the arithmetica,9 and indicate the studies of musica. 2.2. Forms of Figures Bodiless (v. 11) A few verses later, Licentius expresses that he seeks for forms of figures bodiless (figurarum positas sine puluere formas, v. 11). By using this phrase, Licentius expresses his zeal for the studies of geometria. 6 In the history of Latin literature, there is another Varro – Gaius Terentius Varro (cos. 216 BC). But his writing style is far from being ‘profound’. 7 Vv. 145-51: interea uenient quaecumque futura bonorum // scripta salutiferi sermonis, et illa priorum // aequiparanda fauis, reputans quae pectore in alto, // conceptum in lucem uomuisti nectareum mel, // praesentem ipsa mihi te reddent, si mihi morem // gesseris et libros quibus in te lenta recumbit // musica tradideris, nam ferueo totus in illos. 8 Vv. 6-7: quis numerum dedit ille tonos, mundumque Tonanti // disseruit canere, et pariles agitare choreas, quis at the beginning of v. 6 is the old form of quibus. 9 The main theme of Martianus Capella’s arithmetica is the Pythagorean mysticism of number, and methods of calculation are not dealt with at all.

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2.3. The Position of the Stars (v. 13) In v. 13, Licentius refers to ‘the positions of the stars and their bright wanderings’ (astrorum causae10 clarique meatus). These expressions are conjectured to be technical terms of astronomy. 2.4. Geographical Information and Historical Events Lastly, the poem is filled with plenty of geographical information and historical events related to them (e.g. deeds of Hannibal in the Second Punic War, v. 116). And in some cases, even the habits of animals or birds living there are described in detail (e.g. the halcyon bird which makes its home in the tallest tree, v. 92). The geographical areas of the information are so wide that they extend not only to Europe (Roma,11 Gallia,12 Alps13), but also even to Carthage,14 Phoenicia,15 Asia Minus,16 Egypt,17 Syria,18 South Russia,19 Albania,20 the Caspian Sea,21 and the Black Sea.22 Once Martianus Capella’s De nuptiis are surveyed, we notice that these kinds of geographical information are, in their full amount, contained in the book of geometry (book VI). Though the descriptions there are divided into the part of geography and of geometry, more than four fifths of the description is distributed through the geographia. Accorginly, considering that Martianus Capella’s De nuptiis is based on Varro, we can conclude that Licentius quotes these geographical descriptions from Varro’s lost work of the geometria. 10

Causa as a technical term of astronomy indicates ‘the position of a star’. V. 71: Roumulidum sedes = the palaces of sons of Romulus (The Palatine of Rome); vv. 71-2: inania culmina = empty heights where Remus took his stand (The Aventine of Rome). 12 V. 64: ibimus et Leucos, qua Leucia solis in ortus = We’ll fare to Belgic Gaul, whose easternmost town Lièges is named. 13 V. 114: montosis firmatas rupibus Alpes = the rocky Alpine peaks. 14 V. 97: Barcaeus = of Barcas, Barcean; juveni Barcaeus = Hannibal; Barcaei = the inhabitants of Barce, enemies of Dido, Verg., Aen. 4.43. 15 V. 125: Sidonios < Sidonius = of Sidon of Phoenicia. 16 V. 97: Taurum < Taurus = a high mountainrange in the south-eastern part of Asia Minor. 17 V. 100: Nilum < Nilus = Nile river of Egypt. 18 V. 65: uasti deserta cacumina Cassi = the lonely peaks of Cassius’ mount. Cassius is a Syrian mountain, near Antioch. It was so high that from its summit the sunrise could be seen during the fourth watch of the night (3 to 6 a.m.); while it was day on the east side, it was still night in the West. The same episode appears in Plinius, Nat. hist. 5.18.20. One of his sources of the geographical episodes is thought to be Varro. 19 V. 62: Hypaneius amnis = A spring of bitter waters in Scythia (southern Russia), between the Donieper and Hypanis (Bug) Rivers. 20 V. 63: Epidamnus = The ancient Greek city (Greek: Ἐπίδαμνος), later the Roman Dyrrachium (modern Durrës, Albania, c. 30 km West of Tirana). 21 V. 97: Hyrcania = A historical region composed of the land South-East of the Caspian Sea in modern-day Iran, bound in the South by the Alborz mountain range and the Kopet Dag in the East. 22 V. 120: Pontus Helles = a Latin geographical name, which may refer to Dardanelles. 11

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The reason why Licentius filled his poem with these kinds of information is obvious: By showing them, he is trying to demonstrate his development of the studies of the artes liberales during seven years since his departure from Augustine.

3. The Ties between Augustine and Licentius Licentius, while entreating Augustine to send himself his work De musica, reconfirms his ties with Augustine. He describes them as follows: 1. As we were born in the same city (= Thagaste), one strain of blood flows in our veins. (vv. 137-9)23 2. Christian faith connected us. (v. 139)24 3. As we are bound with love (amor, v. 141) of science, the distance between Africa and Milan cannot separate us. (vv. 140-3)25 With these words, Licentius expects that Augustine, who would have the same heart and love of sciences, would surely send his De musica to Licentius.

4. Cassiciacum – the Origin of Ties between Augustine and Licentius And further, Licentius reminds Augustine of his life with Augustine in Cassiciacum as the origin of their ties. He yearns that the long-past sun-filled blissful days in mid-Italia (= Cassiciacum) would come back again to him. Oh, would to me some early-shining dawn, In chariot of joy, might summon back Those long-past, sun filled days I spent with thee in carefree hours, The while we conned the guiltless laws of right, And traveled mid-Italian plain or mountains high. (vv. 52-5)26

In Cassiciacum, Licentius could spend careless times (libera otia27) with Augustine, and concentrate to learn the guiltless laws of right. And then, he 23

Vv. 137-9: ab una exsurgimus urbe, … sanguine tangimur uno seclorum, … V. 139: [nos] christiana fides connexuit. 25 Vv. 140-3: nos iter immensum disterminat, amor contemnit utrumque. … semper amico absenti fruitur; … 26 Vv. 52-5: o mihi transactos reuocet si pristina soles // laetificis aurora rotis, quos libera tecum // otia tentantes, et candida iura bonorum, // duximus Italiae medio montesque per altos! 27 The word liberum otium was almost a technical term. See Conf. 9.3.6 … prae amore libertatis otiosae; De ord. 1.2.1 et quae fructum de liberali otio carpamus… 24

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mentions that it was the activities in Cassiciacum that have bound Augustine and Licentius with love of science which endures till now. … ‘Tis not the gleam of crystal wealth Nor hard-won gold that makes the meeting of our minds, … but coming o’er thy inmost thoughts on leaned page Set forth, and poring o’er the meaning of thy mind, Thy lofty teaching and thy bold replies – by these Am I borne on. (vv. 105-10)28

The second half of the texts runs in Latin thus: Sed labor interiora legens, uulgata libellis, Atque animis inuenta tuis, et nobile dogma Indictum, contraque bonus responsa relatus. (vv. 108-10)

In order to understand the contents of these texts correctly, I analyze them literally: 1. labor interiora legens indicates the activities of reading some written texts and the understanding their contents in reader’s inner mind. From the whole context of the poem, the objects of reading are no other than Varro’s works. 2. uulgata libellis: the word libellis signifies the activities of writing down the contents of the texts. The word uulgata (= vulgar) suggests the platonic presupposition that written words are no more than umbrae or uestigia of spoken words. 3. animis inuenta tuis, et nobile dogma indictum: ‘what are invented in your (= Augustine’s) mind, that is, the noble and indicating dogma’. The word dogma as a Latin technical term indicates a philosophical doctrine. 4. contraque bonus responsa relatus: ‘Augustine’s good narrative against disciples’ answers’. When Licentius and other disciples, while reading Varro’s texts, answered incorrectly, Augustine corrected it and proposed the right answer. 5. Conclusion – the Characters of Augustine’s libri disciplinarum From our considerations above, we can conclude the following propositions: 1. Varro’s works on the artes liberales were brought into the villa in Cassiciacum. 2. Augustine, Licentius, and other disciples have been, while staying in Cassiciacum, reading them, and discussing on the various themes in them. 28 Vv. 105-10: nam neque propter opes uitreas, aurumque rebelle, // iungimus assensus animorum: nam neque uulgi // nos fortuna ruens, quae separat ardua, iunxit. // sed labor interiora legens, uulgata libellis, // atque animis inuenta tuis, et nobile dogma // indictum, contraque bonus responsa relatus.

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3. When Licentius or other disciples proposed incorrect answers, Augustine corrected them. 4. Contents of their discussions were written down, probably in the form of scholia or running commentaries. Therefore, we can conjecture thus: If Augustine wrote his libri disciplinarum, they were possibly based on these scholia or running commentaries. Besides, the fact that the frame of the dialectica of Augustine and of Martianus Capella are almost the same (de loquendo - de eloquendo - de proloquendo - de proloquiorum summa) sustains our conclusion.29

29 Martianus Capella, De nuptiis lib. IV (338): nam prima [pars] est de loquendo, secunda de eloquendo, tertia de proloquendo, quarta de proloquiorum summa, quinta de iudicando, quae pertinet ad iudicationem poetarum et carminu, sexta de dictione, quae dicenda rhetoribus commodata est; Augustinus, De dialectica IV [1410.14]: Quae de simplicibus est vocatur de loquendo. Illa vero quae de coniunctis est in tres partes dividitur. Separata enim coniunctione verborum quae non implet sententiam, illa quae sic implet sententiam, ut nondum faciat quaestionem vel disputatorem requirat, vocatur de eloquendo; illa, quae sic implet sententiam, ut de sententiis simplicibus iudicetur, vocatur de proloquendo; illa, quae sic comprehendit sententiam, ut de ipsa etiam copulatione iudicetur donec perveniatur ad summam, vocatur de proloquiorum summa.

The Enforcement of Violence and the Force of Love in Augustine: Epistle 93 and its Aftermath Sean HANNAN, MacEwan University, Edmonton, Canada

ABSTRACT In her theo-political reading of Augustine, Hannah Arendt expressed discontent over the rhetoric of love in Augustine, insofar as it could lead to a totalitarian blurring of distinctions between individuals in the public sphere. To paraphrase Eric Gregory, Arendt preferred a kind of Kantian respect between persons to the reckless abundance of Augustinian caritas. And yet it remains possible that Augustine’s rhetoric of love harbours transformative political potential in a way that Arendtian respectability politics does not. To make that case, this article re-reads Augustine’s controversial defence of coercion in Epistle 93, both in light of Peter Van Nuffelen’s recent work on coercion and with an eye to contemporary theo-political applications of the letter. Doing so will allow us to better appreciate how, for Augustine, the coercive force of the Christian community was akin to a mother’s love.

In her 1929 thesis on Augustine, the philosopher Hannah Arendt expressed discontent over his rhetoric of love, insofar as it could lead to a totalitarian blurring of differences between distinct individuals in the public sphere. Arendt, for her part, preferred Kantian respect between persons, according to which all citizens should be treated as ends in themselves. Any political application of Augustinian caritas or dilectio, in their messy abundance, could only prove reckless. And yet it remains possible that Augustine’s rhetoric of love harbours transformative political potential in a way that Arendtian respectability politics does not. To make that case, it will be necessary to re-read Augustine’s controversial defence of coercion in Epistle 93 with an eye to modern political theories of violence. Doing so will allow us to appreciate how, for Augustine, the coercive force of the Christian community was akin to a mother’s love. Before discussing Epistle 93 itself, we should begin by briefly encapsulating Arendt’s treatment of Augustine, in order to appreciate where she diverged from him on matters of love and force. If we were to refrain from doing so, we would risk opening ourselves up to the mistaken assumptions about Arendt’s position that sometimes crop up in modern accounts of her work, which lean in the direction of the popular and hagiographic. The homepage for Bard College’s Hannah Arendt Center, for example, invites visitors with the slogan ‘Love the World with Us’. Depictions like these paint Arendt as the poster-child for

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liberal democracy at its impossible best, combining an almost (but not quite) pacifistic ethos with a rhetoric of love as an emotionally charged value shared around the globe. Unfortunately, as the work of Eric Gregory has shown, this popularized portrayal of Arendt does not always correspond to the arguments found in her work. If we look to her 1929 thesis, entitled Love and Saint Augustine, we find that she is anything but committed to a worldview of universalizing love. Instead, she singles love out as a dangerous word for politics. Even before the publication of Gregory’s Politics and the Order of Love, Thomas Breidenthal (now the Episcopal Bishop of Southern Ohio) had noted Arendt’s squeamishness at the universality of love in Augustine’s works. By describing both God-human and human-human relationships in terms of love, the Augustinian worldview risked diminishing the importance of interpersonal respect, since God became the only object of love worthy of enjoyment rather than use. As Breidenthal summed it up: ‘if God has become my neighbour, then love of God has outsmarted love of neighbour on its home turf’.1 Love, as Arendt sees it, is totalizing rather than selfless. As such, it must be consigned to the private sphere. As she wrote in the Human Condition: ‘Love, in distinction from friendship, is killed, or rather extinguished, the moment it is displayed in public. … Because of its inherent worldlessness, love can only become false and perverted when it is used for political purposes such as the change or salvation of the world’.2 Otherwise, if love did feel itself so exposed, it would risk swallowing up the discrete individuals who populate the public sphere into a totalitarian universalism, which might be theocratic but could just as easily present itself in secular garb. On the basis of this reading, Augustine’s endorsement of coercion in Epistle 93 would come as no surprise to Arendt. Gregory, like Breidenthal and the political scientist Dean Hammer before him, balks at Arendt’s dismissal of Augustinian love from the political arena. This does not mean he is insensitive to her concerns, however. As he puts it, he is after an Augustinian politics of love that ‘sees moral motivations in terms of the “non-possessive eros”’.3 His worldview ‘distinguishes love for God and love for neighbour but insists the two loves are correlative’.4 Gregory’s Augustinianism is thus closer to that of his mentor Oliver O’Donovan than it is to Arendt’s. He wants to replace her view of love as a political vice with a new valourization of love as a political virtue, which would be capable of galvanizing society in a way that endless debates about justice and injustice never can. ‘The loving citizen imagines and embodies a different world from the “just” citizen who abandons 1 Thomas Breidenthal, ‘Jesus is My Neighbor: Arendt, Augustine, and the Politics of Incarnation’, Modern Theology 14 (1998), 489-503. Ibid. 491 is quoted in Eric Gregory, Politics and the Order of Love: an Augustinian Ethic of Democratic Citizenship (Chicago, 2008), 239. 2 Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (Chicago, 1958), 51. 3 E. Gregory, Politics and the Order of Love (2008), 240. 4 Ibid. 240.

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love’, writes Gregory, adding that ‘the political imagination of a citizen shaped by Augustinian love goes beyond that shaped merely by liberal respect or principles of justice’.5 Gregory’s mild critique of liberal respect here is probably meant to place further distance between him and Arendt. However, even Gregory’s defence of Augustinian love remains circumscribed by the regime of possibilities deemed appropriate to modern liberal democracy. An Augustinian justification of political violence is not his goal. His ultimate aim is to ground ‘an Augustinian ethics of democratic citizenship’6 or carve out space in society for the subject-position of what he calls an ‘Augustinian civic liberal’.7 But what if we were instead to acknowledge the fact that Augustine’s political rhetoric of love does not have to fit squarely into today’s language of liberal democracy? All of this talk about private spheres, public spheres, and Kantian citizens might not be the best framework (even among modern frameworks) for engaging with the world of North African religious violence in late antiquity. Should we, moreover, be so quick to accept Arendt’s consignment of Augustinian love to the private sphere on the grounds that untamed social love could prove destructive? As Paul Ricoeur once remarked, with an uncharacteristically illiberal tone: ‘The protest of the “private” against the “social” is never entirely innocent’.8 Likewise, from an Augustinian point of view, we can say that attempts to banish the force of love from politics might not be as innocent as they first seem. Turning back to Epistle 93, written around 408 CE, it should first of all be noted that Augustine commences with a similar sense of political scepticism. He is responding to Vincentius, the successor to Rogatus as leader of a Donatist splinter-sect which claimed to have rejected the violent means employed by Donatism’s purported militia, the Circumcellions. Vincentius had offered an olive branch, arguing that his apparently non-violent group was best positioned to broker peace between the fractious factions of African Christianity. In the opening lines of the letter, Augustine’s suspicion of Vincentius alternates between subtle and sarcastic. Later in the letter, he sharpens his point. ‘Your group does, of course, seem to be gentler since you do not rage violently alongside the monstrous packs of Circumellions’, he concedes, before turning the tables on Vincentius: ‘But no wild beast would be called tame simply because it lacks fangs and claws and, because of that, wounded no one. You say you do not want to rage violently. My sense is that you are simply unable to rage violently’.9 5

Ibid. 360. Ibid. 240. 7 Ibid. 362. 8 Paul Ricoeur, ‘The Socius and The Neighbour’, in History and Truth, tr. Charles Kelbley (Evanston, 1965), 98-109. Ibid. is cited in E. Gregory, Politics and the Order of Love (2008), 360. 9 Augustine, Epistle (henceforth Ep.) 93.3.11, in Epistulae LVI-C, CChr.SL 31A, ed. K.D. Daur (Turnhout, 2005): mitiores quidem esse videmini, quia cum Circumcellionum immanissimis gregibus non saevitis; sed nulla bestia, si neminem vulneret, propterea mansueta dicitur, quia dentes 6

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The Rogatists, in other words, are presenting a false facade of pacifism. They argue for nonviolence in the face of the status quo, not because they are committed to nonviolence in all respects, but because they see it as the simpler option under contextual conditions. They are not entirely unlike the white moderates criticized by Martin Luther King, Jr., in his own letter. Like King’s white moderates, Augustine’s Rogatists advise against riling up tensions and (even more so) against appealing to non-local power structures in order to address regional injustices. If the leader of the local Circumcellions was akin to Bull Connor, then Vincentius and the Rogatists were the nominally pacifistic clergymen who frowned upon stirring up public resistance, let alone calling in something like the imperial or national guard to enforce the right outcome. Of course, the great difference between Augustine’s anti-Donatism and the civil rights struggle is that many readers of Augustine today would prefer to see in the Donatists an aggrieved party without much further qualification. At times, they are even presented as the properly local form of Christianity in Africa, defending a pseudo-Cyprianic legacy against imperial toadies like Augustine. The temptations leading to such a reading are many, but they do come at the cost of seeing Augustine’s political rhetoric of love as just as much an African creation as its schismatic, factionalist opposite. To be sure, his rhetoric is grounded in universalism, just as many of the Algerian rebels fighting against French colonialism in the twentieth century rooted their projects in various Marxian strands of universalism. If we are looking for romanticized localism in Augustine, we will leave unsatisfied. Even today, though, we can see that an embrace of localism is not necessarily any guarantee against tyranny or oppression. The fetishization of the local over against the global is arguably one of the most dangerous elements of the liberal-democratic order as it currently stands. For Augustine, then, an embrace of localism granted no excuse for violent resistance to the call of universal love, especially if such resistance was fuelled by resentful hatred. This does not mean, however, that resistance is wrong. Resistance, like force or coercion or violence, is neutral for Augustine. As the philosopher Andrew Collier once remarked: ‘Political power is the organization of the power to inflict violence, such that alternative agencies of violence are overawed’.10 To do politics means to do violence. Value-judgments only come into play once we consider how resistance, force, coercion, and violence are to be used. This is what allows Augustine to say in Epistle 93 that the violence of the Circumcellions is to be met with forceful resistance. The latter form of force is not motivated by hatred, but instead by love. The enemy must et ungues non habet. Saevire vos nolle dicitis; ego non posse arbitror. In preparing my own translation of these passages, I sometimes consulted the translation of J.G. Cunningham in The Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 1, ed. Philip Schaff (Buffalo, 1887). 10 Andrew Collier, Christianity and Marxism: A Philosophical Contribution to Their Reconciliation (London, 2001), 115.

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be smitten with love.11 God’s own example shows how often love smites. Drawing upon sources ranging from Proverbs 27:6 to 2Corinthians 12:7-9, Augustine reminds us that none of us are strangers to salutary forms of fear. The trick, he says, is that we must at one and the same time love our enemies and ‘consider God’s scourges upon those whom God loves’.12 The recurring refrain, with which many of us would probably sympathize, is: surely it cannot be right to compel anyone to act more justly? In response to this hypothetical rejoinder by Vincentius, Augustine again turns Scripture to his own purposes. According to Luke 14:23, ‘whomsoever you shall find, compel them to come in’. For Augustine, this is not a contextual remark relating to just one parable, but a universal injunction. In the story of Paul’s conversion, meanwhile, he finds the ultimate act of redemptive violence. God wounds Paul, who ‘was compelled by the great violence of forceful Christ to recognize and hold to the truth’.13 The specific act of violence in this case, according to Augustine, was the literal blinding of Paul, who thereby lost access to the very ‘light which the eyes enjoy’. The verb here rendered as ‘enjoy’ is carpere, which often has a violent connotation of seizing or plucking. Grammatically speaking, Augustine is not saying that Paul’s eyes were plucked out; rhetorically, however, the threat of such a resonance lurks between the lines. But even this violence remains a manifestation of the force of love. It is here that Augustine arrives at his insight that the severe conduct of the legitimate Mother is done ‘not with the hatefulness of harming but with the love of healing’.14 11

Ep. 93.1.3: Tu non attendis nisi eos qui ita duri sunt, ut nec istam recipiant disciplinam. De talibus enim scriptum est: Frustra flagellavi filios vestros; disciplinam non receperunt. Puto tamen quia dilectione, non odio flagellati sunt. My translation: ‘You pay attention only to those who remain hardened and thereby do not receive discipline. Of such people it has been written: “I have scourged your children in vain; they have not received discipline”. Nevertheless, I suppose that those people were scourged with love, not with hatred’. 12 Ep. 93.2.4: Sed sicut ista dona eius laudamus, ita etiam flagella eius in eos quos diligit, cogitemus. My translation: ‘Just as we praise those gifts from God, however, so also should we think about God’s scourges upon those whom he loves’. 13 Ep. 93.2.5: Putas neminem debere cogi ad iustitiam, cum legas patremfamilias dixisse servis: Quoscumque inveneritis cogite intrare; cum legas etiam ipsum primo Saulum, postea Paulum, ad cognoscendam et tenendam veritatem, magna violentia Christi cogentis esse compulsum: nisi forte cariorem putas hominibus esse pecuniam, vel qualemlibet possessionem, quam lucem istam, quae oculis carpitur. My translation ‘You suppose that no one can be forced toward justice, even though you read that the paterfamilias said to his slaves: “Force whomever you find to come inside”. You suppose this even though you also read about how Paul (formerly called Saul) was compelled by the great violence of forceful Christ to recognize and hold to the truth. Unless, perhaps, you suppose that there is some other possession of greater value to humankind than that light which is enjoyed by the eyes’. 14 Ep. 93.2.6: Quidquid ergo facit vera et legitima mater, etiamsi asperum amarumque sentiatur, non malum pro malo reddit; sed bonum disciplinae, expellendo malum iniquitatis, apponit, non odio nocendi, sed dilectione sanandi. My translation: ‘Therefore, whatever the true and legitimate mother does, even if it is felt to be harsh and bitter, does not repay evil for evil. Rather,

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Both Pharaoh and Moses used violence, but it was never violence alone that was the problem. ‘Already you can see’, says Augustine, ‘that what matters is not the fact that someone is being forced to do something. What matters instead is what kind of thing they are being forced to do’.15 The proving grounds of social transformation reside within the universal community, which is the church as mother. As Augustine writes in opposition to the claim that it is hypocritical to treat those who have strayed from the flock any differently from those who have yet to join: But it is an extremely shameless error to wish to attack the Church, which stands firm as the Church of Christ thanks to so many divine witnesses, due to the fact that, in one way, she drags back in those who have deserted her (if they have corrected their desertion with repentance) and, in another way, she pulls in those who are not yet within her and are therefore receiving her peace for the first time ever. She drags back the former by humbling them greatly; she pulls in the latter by embracing them softly. In both cases, by loving both groups, she is serving those who need to be healed by motherly love.16

This caritas materna can thus take many forms, ranging from the lenient to the severe. One of the load-bearing verbs in this passage is tractare, which some would translate simply as ‘treating’ or ‘dealing with’ two groups in distinct manners. But, as with carpere above, here again there is the possibility that Augustine is using a word that is simultaneously benign and violent, just as is Mother Church. To be sure, she does seem to treat the lapsed and the outsider in different ways, but in both cases the treatment takes the form of a dragging back or a pulling inward. In either case, the mistress bids the servant to bring people inside. The only question is how forcefully that goal will be met. Note here that, while Augustine is open to the use of state force on behalf of the church, it is the church universal who, as mother, retains the right to dictate between legitimate or illegitimate use of force. Augustine is developing a political rhetoric of love outlasting the rise and fall of any empire. This is one of the reasons that Augustine’s juxtaposition of love and force need not cause too much embarrassment for modern interpreters, despite Arendt’s concerns. Nevertheless, many scholars of Augustine’s political theories continue to blush it applies the good of discipline by expelling the evil of iniquity, not with the hatefulness of harming but with the love of healing’. 15 Ep. 93.5.16: Vides itaque iam, ut opinor, non esse considerandum quod quisque cogitur, sed quale sit illud quo cogitur, utrum bonum an malum. My translation: ‘Thus you can already see that, as I believe, what matters is not the fact that someone is being forced to do something. Instead, what matters is what kind of thing they are being forced to do (namely: whether it is good or evil)’. 16 Ep. 93.13.53: Sed nimis impudens error est, hinc velle calumniari Ecclesiam, quam tot divinis testimoniis constat esse Ecclesiam Christi, quod aliter tractat illos qui eam deserunt, si hoc ipsum poenitendo corrigant, aliter illos qui in ea nondum fuerunt, et tunc primum eius pacem accipiunt; illos amplius humiliando, istos lenius suscipiendo, utrosque diligendo, utrisque sanandis materna caritate serviendo.

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at Epistle 93. John von Heyking’s otherwise rigorous book on Augustine and Politics as Longing in the World, for example, makes love the cornerstone of Augustine’s worldview only to then explain away his doctrine of coercion in the final chapter. Von Heyking correctly notes that Augustine frames his own violence as pitched against already-extant manifestations of violence,17 but then ends by attempting an exoneration. ‘Unfortunately’, he writes, ‘Augustine’s rhetoric, intended to exhort reluctant authorities to apply the law, albeit without excess, was taken in later ages to justify ruthless persecution’.18 This is partly true, although we cannot write the violence of Augustine’s political rhetoric of love off as an aberration. It was a core aspect of his thought; accordingly, it led to results that were at times horrifying and at others times emancipatory. If we are looking for an unblinking account of Augustine that situates him within the bloody scene of religious strife in late antiquity, we need look no further than Brent D. Shaw’s Sacred Violence. There, Shaw argues that an underlying rhetoric and imagery of hatred promoted acts of violence across late ancient North Africa. Shaw’s approach also highlights the role played by imperial power in Augustine’s call for coercion. And yet, as we have seen, Augustine locates the legitimacy of violence in the ecclesial mother, not in the emperor. For his own part, Shaw reads Augustinian violence as a manifestation of the tendency of state power to make local situations worse by way of intervention. As a comparison, the consummate classicist points to the situation of Northern Ireland in the wake of 1972’s Bloody Sunday massacre.19 This comes close to suggesting that it is of the essence of universalizing or state power to sow discord rather than solve it. Shaw’s manoeuvre is as anachronistic as any formally similar move pulled by philosophers or political theorists when they skim through Augustine. When it comes to the interpretation of Augustinian texts, it is never so simple as preferring a properly classical reading to an anachronistically political one. If, nevertheless, we continue to long for a more rigorously anti-anachronistic reading of Augustine in his late ancient context, the obvious corrective to Shaw would be the recent work of Peter Van Nuffelen. His monograph on the idea and practice of tolerance in late antiquity situates Augustine and a number of other Christian thinkers within a Roman Mediterranean world where violent coercion or (as Van Nuffelen sometimes prefers) forceful ‘constraint’ was never completely out of the question. This need not mean that emerging Christian worldviews envisioned a totalitarian dystopia, since it was never as simple as a rudimentary dichotomy between pure pacifism and bloodthirsty violence. Instead, van Nuffelen makes the compelling case that decisions about the limits 17

John von Heyking, Augustine and Politics as Longing in the World (Columbia, 2001), 223. Ibid. 257. 19 Brent D. Shaw, Sacred Violence: African Christians and Sectarian Hatred in the Age of Augustine (Cambridge, 2011), 805. 18

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of supposedly free rational persuasion and the roles played by socio-political constraints were always context-specific and pragmatic. They took place on a sliding scale or a dynamic spectrum, with the idealized debate between free individuals on one end and the forceful coercion of assent on the other. Reality, as usual, played out somewhere in the middle. Augustine’s dalliances with the use of violence fell within that middlebrow reality of late ancient life and strife.20 To return to Shaw one last time, however, and to allow ourselves the excitement of anachronism once again, we should note that Shaw’s most obscuring overreach remains the insinuation that political violence in North Africa was always motivated by a rhetoric of hatred. For Augustine, the rhetoric of hatred precluded the possibility of the just use of force. As the Dominican Herbert McCabe once argued, Christian love and political violence are indeed compatible. ‘Justice and love can involve coercion and violence because the objects of justice and love are not just individual people but can be whole societies’, wrote McCabe, adding that ‘if we wish to protect the structures that make human life possible, then we sometimes, in fact quite often, find it necessary to coerce an individual for the sake of the good of the whole’.21 Force, violence, and coercion are therefore necessary for McCabe. ‘Violence’, he says, ‘is not intrinsically wrong’.22 This stands against the positions of those 20 Peter Van Nuffelen, Penser la tolérance durant l’Antiquité tardive (Paris, 2018), 151: ‘Augustin admet la force irrésistible d’une foule et semble suggérer qu’elle sort des tréfonds de l’homme. En fait, l’exhortation d’Augustin renvoie au modèle proposé dans les deux derniers chapitres: il demande d’appliquer la persuasion et, si nécessaire et si possible, la contrainte en vue d’une éducation tendant au bien. Cette contrainte prend place dans le cadre de relations sociales au sein desquelles elle était acceptée. Ainsi, la violence est interprétée à la lumière de l’idéal de la persuasion et jugée comme contrevenant à celui-ci. Toute la question était alors de déterminer dans quelles circonstances on pouvait admettre cette transgression: parce qu’elle avait mené à la conversion d’un grand nombre de gens, comme le suggère Sévère? Parce que le temple païen était un lieu de crimes et de danger (les récits de Rufin renvoient, en effet, à la perception du sacrifice sanglant païen comme une abomination), trouvant ses origines dans le sacrifice humain? À cause des crimes de l’autre parti, comme souvent dans les luttes intra-chrétiennes? Ce sont autant de frontières qui étaient à chaque fois débattues, tracées et effacées.’ See also ibid. 161: ‘Devant un tel constat, il devient plus difficile de considérer l’histoire de l’Occident moderne comme celle d’une simple croissance de la tolérance. En réalité, nous avons plutôt affaire à une diversification des attitudes en relation avec la sphère sociale. Plus profondément encore, cette diversification est elle-même le produit d’un changement dans notre conception de la rationalité. Pour un penseur libéral comme John Rawls, la religion se situe en dehors de l’emprise du sens commun et ne saurait donc faire objet d’un débat rationnel. Puisqu’on ne peut pas juger de façon rationnelle une proposition religieuse, on ne peut que la tolérer. C’était une opinion que peu de gens partageaient à l’époque pré-moderne (et qui d’ailleurs aujourd’hui n’est pas universellement partagée non plus). D’où le défi qui se pose pour notre compréhension de l’Antiquité tardive: prendre au sérieux le fait que la religion était au contraire l’un des lieux majeurs d’exercice de la raison à cette époque’. 21 Herbert McCabe, OP, ‘The Class Struggle and Christian Love’, in David Haslam and Rex Ambler (eds), Agenda for Prophets: Towards a Political Theology for Britain (London, 1980), 153-69, especially 167. 22 Ibid. 167.

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he calls the bourgeois liberals, among whom Arendt might be said to number. ‘I cannot see how’, he later adds, ‘necessary violence and coercion are in any way incompatible with Christian love’.23 Though here he sticks to scriptural citations, McCabe’s position is by no means un-Augustinian. He even appeals to just war theory, to which Augustine is often connected. The only question, of course, is how to determine which wars are truly just. McCabe is therefore amenable to the rhetoric of love as a means of legitimating political violence. As should be clear by now, this does not mean that just any violent act is to be construed as loving. Still, loving acts of force do exist, even if they do not constitute a ‘perspicuous manifestation of love’, as McCabe phrased it.24 The fact that loving acts of force exist makes all the difference in the world. If our only reason for resorting to violence were hateful resentment, then we would be in an even worse situation than we already are. To borrow from McCabe’s radical rhetoric yet again: ‘There is no place for such infantile hatred in the revolution’.25 Even after all this, we might still feel the gnawing sense that there is something wrong with the Augustinian picture. Arendt’s rejection of Augustine’s political love retains its allure. Perhaps if we adopted her worldview, which adequately distinguishes the clean space of the public sphere from the messy lives of private individuals, we could escape the ills plaguing us today. That line of thinking, however, once again commits us to a hagiography of Arendt that is not always deserved. Let us end, then, with an anecdote. In 1968, a news-clipping recounted a talk Arendt delivered to a group of students at Yale.26 The headline of the article claimed that she charmed those in attendance. The content of the talk was, however, not what one might expect from the best of liberal democracy. She decried the so-called ‘over-reaches of Black Power’ and even the very concept of ‘collective guilt’. With her latter point, Augustine would have doubtless disagreed. Collective guilt names not just our socio-political scenario, but also our indebtedness on account of Adam. The most meaningful response a modern-day Augustinian could make would be to argue that legitimately loving political violence can only take place on the basis of an antecedent divine love, which is the sole force capable of confronting our shared guilt.

23 Ibid. 168. See also A. Collier, Christianity and Marxism (2001), 126: ‘Christians can support armed revolution on the ground that according to the Gospel to abstain from saving life is also to kill’. 24 H. McCabe, ‘Class Struggle’ (1980), 167. 25 Ibid. 168. 26 Martin Oppenheimer, ‘Arendt Charms Crowd’, Yale Daily News, Friday, November 8, 1968.

Reflections on Augustine’s Evaluation of the Body in his Later Comments on Genesis: A Christological Perspective Martin CLAES, Tilburg University, School of Catholic Theology, The Netherlands

ABSTRACT Augustine’s anthropology is closely connected with his Christology and vice versa. In this contribution I argue that, despite his reputation for a dualistic or even negative evaluation of the human body, Augustine also in his later works, considered the human body as an opportunity for salvation. With help of three works on the Book of Genesis, which are distinctive in their rhetorical scopes, I discuss observations of a certain degree of constancy in a positive evaluation of the human body. These observations will be assessed in the framework of Augustine’s Christology. De Genesi ad litteram VI 19.3022.33 (AD 399-415) provides a focus on the perspective of history of salvation. It offers a viewpoint of human vulnerability and restoration in grace. Despite its literal exegesis, it shows strong Pauline influence in a metaphor of spiritual resurrection of life in the spirit vs life of the flesh. De civitate Dei XIII 21-3 (books XI–XIII, AD 418-419) offers an eschatological perspective. In this context Augustine explained the human condition with the help of Pauline (1Cor. 15) Adam-Christ typology. He presents the act of (bodily) salvation as a process of mediation (Christus mediator) and even incorporation in the totus Christus. The pastoral work Contra adversarium legis et prophetarum (AD 419-421) discusses the unity between the two covenants and the crucial hermeneutical position of Christ from an apologetical perspective in the evaluation of the changeable reality. Augustine described that God’s salvation is to be found in its (bodily) effects, initiated already in this life.

Nor should you be surprised that we suffer such things in this body. It is fitting, after all, that we should suffer; nor can what the Lord wills ever in any instance be unjust.1 (Sermo 20B.1)

1 Sermo 20B: Oportet enim ut patiamur, nec potest domini uoluntas esse in aliquo iniusta, François Dolbeau, ‘Un sermon inédit de saint Augustin sur la santé corporelle, partiellement cité chez Barthélemy d’Urbino’, REAug 40 (1994), 279-303. Translation Edmund Hill and John E. Rotelle, The Works of Saint Augustine: A Translation for the 21st Century, Sermons 3/11, Newly Discovered Sermons (New York, 1997), 29.

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Augustine’s evaluation of the human body is notoriously ambiguous. On the one hand, scholars concentrated on Augustine’s negative concern with sexuality in its embodied setting.2 On the other hand, scholars studied Augustine’s theology of the human body in the context of his Manichean past. Over a more extended period, the impact of neo-platonic anthropology on Augustine’s work has been discussed.3 However, over the last decades many insights have been welcomed in Augustinian studies from studies on the human body in the context of research on ascetism and gender.4 Furthermore, Andrea Nightingale published her monography Once out of Nature on the topic of the human body and time. She thus has widened the scope of research to anthropology, sociology and literary hermeneutics.5 However, even with an abundance of Augustinian texts, it may be noticed that possibly not all related texts on the Book of Genesis were included in her research. In this article, I will additionally ask attention for Augustine’s Contra adversarium legis et prophetarum. While Augustine in this particular work commented in reaction to gnostic groups that were not yet included in his discourse on the Book of Genesis, the particular contribution of this rarely studied work (AD 419) may add relevant insights that help to comprehend Augustine’s Christological assessment of the human body. Moreover, it was already observed in 1954 by Tarcisius Jan van Bavel that Augustine only seldom explicitly deliberated on the human body of Christ.6 2

Peter R.L. Brown, The Body and Society: Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity, American Lectures on the History of Religions New Series 13 (New York, 1988), 394-5. ‘A deep sense of sadness lingered with Augustine for the rest of his life. Sexual love remained, for him, a leaden echo of true delight. He dearly wished that he had grown up chaste from his youth, his heart kept open by the discipline of continence, to receive the embrace of Christ: o tardium Gaudium meum, “O my late joy”.’ 3 Jason D. BeDuhn, The Manichean Body: In Discipline and Ritual (Baltimore, 2000); Ronnie J. Rombs, Saint Augustine and the Fall of the Soul: Beyond O’Connell and his Critics (Washington, DC, 2006). 4 Margaret Miles, Augustine on the Body, Dissertation series, American Academy of Religion 31 (Missoula, 1979); Caroline W. Bynum, The Resurrection of the Body in Western Christianity, 200-1336, American Lectures on the History of Religions New Series 15 (New York, 1995); Patricia Cox Miller, The Corporeal Imagination: Signifying the Holy in Late Ancient Christianity (Philadelphia, 2009); Virginia Burrus and Karmen Mackendrick, ‘Bodies without Wholes: Apophatic Excess and Fragmentation in Augustine’s City of God’, in Chris Boesel and Catherine Keller (eds), Apophatic Bodies: Negative Theology, Incarnation, and Relationality (New York, 2009), 79-93. 5 Andrea Nightingale, Once out of Nature: Augustine on Time and the Body (Chicago, 2011). 6 Tarcisius J. van Bavel, Recherches sur la Christologie de Saint Augustin: L’humain et le Divin dans le Christ d’après Saint Augustin, Études de Littérature et de Théologie Anciennes 10 (Fribourg, 1954); id., ‘L’humanité du Christ comme « lac parvulorum » et comme « via » dans la Spiritualité du Saint Augustin’, Aug(L) 7 (1957), 245-81; Bernard Bruning, Unity and its Limits in the Thought of Augustine, dissertation (Louvain, 20th December 2017), especially 73-7.

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Though, within patristic scholarship, these observations have not received elaborated responses. More recently the dissertation of Bernard Bruning on unity in Augustine’s theology has asked again to study the continuation of the incarnation in the church and the sacraments in the context of Christ’s humanness.7 Yet, in confrontation with the abundance of words which Augustine dedicated to creation and restoration of humankind, a closer look for the position of the human body in creation, salvation and re-creation might contribute to the understanding of the embodied aspect of Augustine’s Christology. In their comments on Augustine’s earlier commentaries on Genesis, scholars have agreed that his concern for the human body was coloured by his anti-Manichean agenda (Gn. adu. Man., Gn. litt. inp.). In his explanations on the embodied state of humankind, Augustine reacted to their dualistic anthropology. In these early works, his evaluations of corporeality as a continuation of the process of incarnation were dominantly positive. In book XIII of conf. it is pointed out in an extensive comment on the sixth day of creation that the positive value of the human body finds its fundament in Christ.8 Though, in this contribution I will focus on Augustine’s later commentaries on Genesis: De Genesi ad litteram VI 19.30-22.33 (AD 399-415), De civitate Dei XIII 21-3 (books XI-XIII, AD 418-419) and Contra adversarium legis et prophetarum (AD 419-421). Their rhetorical scopes do differ in many aspects. Nevertheless, they share their attention for creation and the human body. In the next sections, I will argue that Augustine in these later works considered the human body as an opportunity for salvation. In the first section on Gn. lit. Augustine’s exegetical interest in the Pauline explanation of spiritual restoration in grace within time asks for attention. This restorative transformation makes history into a salvation history within the perspective of resurrection. The second text from ciu. XIII in section 2 elucidates Augustine’s perspective on the eschaton. It discusses bodily aspects of resurrection. Contra adversarium legis et prophetarum has been focussed in its apologetical and pastoral tone on the unifying function of Christ, in creation and within Scripture. Apologetical concerns on Christ’s role in the interpretation of Law and Prophets coerced him to describe the process of (bodily) salvation as a continuation of incarnation. The reading of a fragment from this polemic work at the end of this contribution is going to offer an opportunity to revisit shortly Andrea Nightingale’s concluding remarks: ‘Augustine has argued that humans have no real debt to the earth. […] Of course, he considers this a temporary state: humans toil on a journey In his dissertation the author wrote an addendum to Bernard Bruning, Tarcisius J. van Bavel, ‘Die Einheit des totus Christus bei Augustinus’, in Cornelius Mayer and Willigis Eckermann (eds), Scientia Augustiniana: Studien über Augustinus, den Augustinismus und den Augustinerorden: Festschrift Adolar Zumkeller zum 60. Geburstag, Cassiciacum 30 (Würzburg, 1975), 43-75. 7 B. Bruning, Unity and its Limits (2017), 77. 8 Martin Claes, ‘Anthropocentric Christology in Augustine’s Confessiones XIII. Sensory and Corporeal Aspects of Mystagogy in the Context of the Earlier Commentaries on Genesis’, in print.

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that leads them to transhumanity. Indeed, his theology represents the human desire to not be human. He thus rejects “mortal interindebtedeness” and privileges transhumation.’9 Corpus animale and corpus spiritale: Body and time in De Genesi ad litteram VI After his first commentaries on Genesis in Gn. adu. Man. and Gn. litt. inp., Augustine aimed for a more balanced exegesis of the account of creation in conf. XIII. Though, an extensive commentary on the literary sense of both accounts of creation had to wait until De Genesi ad litteram. He had been working many years on this book and finished it in 415. It was written in several stages from 406 onwards. In his comments on the creation of man, Augustine concentrated on metaphysical aspects: the middle position and limited authority. Confronted with a variety of theories on the mortal nature of Adam’s body, Augustine argued in Gn. litt. VI 19.30-22.33 that Adam and all humans possess ensouled bodies: a corpus animale. Whilst being embodied, this special condition offered Adam a potential immortal life without sin and its consequences.10 While Adamic sin determined all human bodies to death in time, they will have been returned to a justified state in the eschaton. This process of salvation finds its incentive in the kenotic act of God in the body of Christ. The eschatological destination of bodies did not withhold Augustine from drawing firm conclusions on the nature of their vulnerable timely shape. However, the consequence of this weakness is the promise of a better state: restoration in the vivifying Spirit of Christ as a corpus spiritale. Still the reason there is some debate about what sort was first made for the man is that it was an embodiment of soul that was made, we will not receive again what we lost in him, but something altogether better to the extent that spirit surpasses soul, when we shall be equals to the angels of God (Luke 20:36). But while the angels can indeed surpass the other human beings, in their justice as well as in their nature, can they also surpass the Lord? And yet it says about him: You have made him a little less than the angels (Ps. 8:5, Heb. 2:7); in what respect, if not because of the weakness of the flesh which he took from the virgin ‘accepting the form of a slave’ (Phil. 2:7), in which he died to redeem us from slavery?11 9

A. Nightingale, Once out of Nature (2011), 197. See Andrea Nightingale’s description of this blissful state of Adam and Eve as ‘transhumans’ in A. Nightingale, Once out of Nature (2011), 26-33. 11 Gn. litt. VI 19.30: tamen quid prius homini factum sit, ideo disceptatur, quia, si animale factum est, non hoc recipiemus; quod in illo perdidimus, sed tanto melius quanto spiritale animali praeponendum est, quando erimus aequales angelis dei. sed angeli possunt aliis et iustitia praeponi; numquid et domino? de quo tamen dictum est: minorasti eum paulo minus ab angelis. unde, nisi 10

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Augustine’s kenotic Christological turn facilitated him to explain this complex anthropological issue. Embodied language, referring to the actual state of the reader-audience, has been used to clarify a meta-position of the human body in salvation history. In the continuation of the argument, his account on the body of Adam is entwined with an Adam-Christ typology with help of 1Cor. 14:44-9. Augustine concluded that all man do wear the image of the earthy man from the very beginning. The original embodied state refers to the possibility to wear the image of the heavenly by faith. It aims at restoration in grace already in this life, and in this body. It is a result from the process of incarnation and of the unity within the person of Jesus Christ. A related topic is discussed in Gn. litt. XII, where Augustine elaborated extensively on Paul being caught up to third heaven and to paradise as described in 2Cor. 12:2-4.12 It brought Augustine to the conclusion that three types of vision can be distinguished: a bodily, a spiritual and an intellectual one. For the latter type of vision, remoteness from senses is a necessary condition.13 However, despite many similarities, Augustine did not equate this intellectual vision with the condition of humans in the resurrection.14 This can be observed in the concluding paragraphs of the final book XII of Gn. litt. Despite his concerns to stress the differences between the earthly human body and the resurrected body (enspirited), he clearly states that ‘bodies have been received back in the resurrection of the dead, and this perishable thing puts on imperishabililty, and this mortal thing puts on immortality’ (1Cor. 15:33).15 Even in heavenly bliss, the body being transformed in shape will remain the centre of the human person in identity and self. These observations, in the context of this topic, suggest to a certain degree Augustine’s preference for the kenotic aspects of Christology (forma servi). In this work, it is an example of his interest in a

propter carnis infirmitatem, quam sumsit ex uirgine formam serui accipiens, in qua moriens a seruitute nos redimeret? CSEL 28/1, ed. J. Zycha (Wien, 1895), 193. 12 I owe this suggestion gratefully to Volker Henning Drecoll. 13 See Gn. litt. XII 16.32: est autem hoc caelum oculis conspicuum, unde luminaria et sidera effulgent, excellentius utique omnibus corporeis elementis, sicut oculorum sensis excellit in corpore. quia uero spiritus omnis omni est corpore sine dubitatione praestantior, sequitur, ut non loci positione, sed naturae dignitate praestantior sit natura spiritalis isto corporeo caelo etiam illa, ubi rerum corporalium exprimuntur imagines, CSEL 28/1, 401 (‘Now this heaven, visible to the eyes, from which shine the great lights and the stars, is of course more excellent than all the bodily elements, just as the sense of the eyes is the most excellent in the body. But because every spirit without a doubt outclasses every kind of body, it follows that the spiritual nature, even the sort that has the images of bodily things imprinted on it, outclasses that bodily heaven, the sky, not by its location in space but by its worth in nature’, translation Roland J. Teske, On Genesis: Two Books on Genesis against the Manichees and on the Literal Interpretation of Genesis: An Unfinished Book, The Fathers of the Church: A New Translation 84 [Washington, DC, 2011], 481). 14 See A. Nightingale, Once out of Nature (2011), 64 and 108. 15 Gn. litt. XII 35.68-36.69.

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dominantly positive instrumental function of the human body in the process of salvation. Incorporation in the body of Christ: De civitate Dei XIII 21-3 Though, in an intensive eschatological perspective now, after an extensive discussion of death, Augustine returned to the topic of the Adamic body in ciu. XIII 21-3. In section XIII 21 he explains how a figurative exegesis of the Paradise will not completely exclude a literal sense of the text. However, in section XIII 22 Augustine clarifies how the bodies of the righteous in the resurrection no longer will be in need for physical food.16 They still will have the opportunity to eat and drink with their spiritual flesh whenever desired. In this setting, Augustine referred to Luke 24:43. This passage describes the risen Lord eating and drinking in the company of his disciples. For Augustine, this demonstrates that the spiritual body is also going to have a bodily aspect in the resurrection. In a longer section XIII 23, Augustine reflected on the corpus animale of Adam and of all humans. Again, with help of Pauline exegesis,17 he succeeded to stick to a positive evaluation of the (Adamic) human body despite its vulnerability. However, Augustine directed his arguments not towards earthly life, but towards the future immortal life. The body then will be changed from corpus animale into a corpus spiritale in the life-giving spirit of Christ. First, then, comes the natural body such as Adam was the first man to possess, but which, had he not sinned, would never have died; such, too, as we possess, except that its nature as a result of sin has become so changed for the worse that now it is faced with inexorable death; such a body, also, as even Christ, as first, deigned to assume for our sakes, not indeed by necessity but in virtue of His power. Afterwards, however, comes the spiritual body such as that which Christ, our Head, was the first to have, but which we, His members, will have at the final resurrection of the dead.18 16 Andrea Nightingale has suggested the human body in need of food represents the earthly human, participant and chain in the biological food-chain. The contrast is in the eschatological human condition, which permits eating of food, but not as a necessary condition for continuity of life. A. Nightingale, Once out of Nature (2011), 35-8. 17 1Cor. 15:42. 18 Ciu. XIII 23: Prius est enim animale corpus, quale habuit primus Adam, quamuis non moriturum, nisi peccasset; quale nunc habemus et nos, hactenus eius mutata uitiataque natura, quatenus in illo, postea quam peccauit, effectum est, unde haberet iam moriendi necessitatem (tale pro nobis etiam Christus primitus habere dignatus est, non quidem necessitate, sed potestate); postea uero spiritale, quale iam praecessit in Christo tamquam in capite nostro, secuturum est autem in membris eius ultima resurrectione mortuorum. Text from Sancti Aurelii Augustini Episcopi De Civitate Dei Libri XXII, ed. Bernhard Dombart and Alfons Kalb, Bibliotheca Scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana (Leipzig, 1928), 407. Translation from Augustine, The City of God II, Books VIII-XVI, trans. Gerald G. Walsh and Grace Monahan, The Fathers of the Church. A New Translation 14 (Washington, DC, 2008).

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While pointing out the difference between the two men (Adam – Christ), making use of Gal. 3:27, Augustine explained how the sacrament of baptism is a regeneration in Christ. It incorporates a person in the body of Christ. Despite the eschatological perspective, Augustine never lost sight of the embodied aspect of the resurrection. He discussed the latter in terms of eschatological salvation, initiated in this life. Once more, Pauline exegesis of 1Cor. 15:47 was solving the problem: ‘What is sown a natural body rises a spiritual body’. In this approach, Augustine linked this actual life to the future renewal in a corpus spiritale. The spiritual body of Christ after the resurrection no longer acts on command of lust and desire. Since the body has been destined to teach and to comfort, the resurrected body will be identical to the perfected earthly body. ‘In what incorruptible body will they more fittingly rejoice than in the very one in which they groaned while it was corruptible?’19 Their embodied state will no longer refer exclusively to weakness, but is already instrumental in the process of salvation as a mediator. Unity of scripture and of Christ: Contra adversarium legis et prophetarum In this relatively late work (AD 419-421), Augustine answered to a widely spread publication of an anonymous heretic. This work has been situated in a neo-Marcionite or Patrician-gnostic environment.20 Since the anonymous adversary criticized the Book of Genesis, the Prophets and the Law, he juxtaposed the supreme God who ‘is the incomparable splendour of incomprehensible light’21 with God who creates and rules in changeable and visible things. We should believe that he, who did not need such goods to increase his happiness, had far less need for lesser goods, and no need at all for the least goods. Yet as the creator of all good things, he made them. For the Lord Jesus, through whom the world was made, indicates that God created and creates not only heavenly good, but also earthly goods and those of the earthly goods that seem least. (Matt. 6:30) […] In the inequality of good things, there is a pleasing gradation in which a comparison with the lesser is a recommendation.22 19 Ciu. XXII.26: et in quo conuenientius incorruptibili corpore laetabuntur, quam in quo corruptibili gemuerunt? 20 See ‘Introduction’, in Roland J. Teske, On Genesis (New York, 1995), 359-65. Texts from: Klaus D. Daur and Paulus Orosius (eds), Sancti Aurelii Augustini contra Adversarium Legis et Prophetarum; Commonitorium Orosii et Sancti Aurelii Augustini contra Priscillianistas et Origenistas, CChr.SL 49bis (Turnhout, 1985). 21 C. adu. leg. I 11.14. 22 C. adu. leg. I 4.6: profecto qui talibus non eguit ad augendam beatitudinem suam, multo minus inferioribus atque omnino infimis eguisse credendus est. Quae tamen fecit tamquam bonorum omnium constitutor. Nam dominus Iesus, per quem factus est mundus non sola caelestia, sed etiam terrestria eorumque terrestrium quae uidentur exigua, deum creasse et creare sic indicat, […] Et in rerum bonarum inaequalitate ipsa est iucunda gradatio, ubi minorum comparatio

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From the outset, Augustine (I 1.2) was determined by the Pauline Christ as the power and wisdom of God (1Cor. 1:24). Consequentially, in the beginning of the act of creation, ‘in Him were created all things in heaven and on earth, things visible and invisible (Col. 1:16). In his reaction, Augustine accused the anonymous author, that, ‘whatever heresy this fellow holds under the name of Christ in opposition to Christ, he promises himself a happy life in Christ that will begin when this life ends’.23 While the author had presented Christ as ‘the father of peace and charity’ distinct ‘from the author of war and fury’,24 Augustine referred to Christ as the one ultimate sacrifice of praise.25 Augustine’s Christology in this work does not concede with a radical division between created bodily reality and salvation after this life. He presents Christ as merciful, ‘who made us brothers by grace, not by nature’. ‘For it is he, not some other god, as this man supposes, who, according to the Scriptures, gave us an earthly body, but a soul by his breath’.26 Christ therefore unifies both Scriptures. Despite the evident differences in goodness amongst created realities, Augustine judges this ontological gap as a pleasant gradation, in which beauty can emerge. Thus, in this persuasive work, Augustine assessed in contrast with Andrea Nightingale’s conclusion, human existence in its indebtedness to earth and underlined interdependence in creation.

Conclusion Obviously, a limited study of three text passages cannot demonstrate in detail Augustine’s attitude towards the human body. However, it can lead to some observations, and possibly show a tendency within Augustine’s thought on this topic. The three studied works and the selected text passages made me put forward three different direct and indirect perspectives on Augustine’s evaluation of the human body.

ampliorum est commendatio, K.D. Daur, P. Orosius (eds), Contra Adversarium Legis et Prophetarum, CChr.SL 49bis (1985). 23 C. adu. leg. I 2.3: et puto quod iste quamlibet haeresim sub nomine Christi teneat contra Christum, uitam sibi promittit in Christo utique beatam, cuius tunc poterit esse principium, cum uitae huius miserae finis fuerit. 24 C. adu. leg. II 12.38: dicens autem «alium esse pacis et caritatis patrem, alium belli et furoris auctorem». 25 C. adu. leg. I 18.37: de sacrificio autem ualde iste nihil sapit, et ideo fallitur, quia iam sacrificia talia non offert dei populus deo, posteaquam uenit unicum sacrificium, cuius umbrae fuerunt illa omnia non hoc improbantia, sed hoc significantia (‘This fellow, however, knows nothing at all about sacrifice, and for this reason he is mistaken, since the people of God does not offer such sacrifices to God, now that the one sacrifice has come which all those sacrifices foreshadowed’, translation Roland J. Teske). 26 C. adu. leg. II 11.17.

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To recapitulate: the text from Gn. litt. propounds a kenotic perspective on salvation in Christ. The latter include Augustine’s reflections on the human body within the perspective of grace and brings human existence and the body of Christ together. Augustine extended this perspective towards the resurrected body. Consequentially, in this perspective of salvation history, the human body is, while vulnerable and dependent on grace, in se an occasion for healing and liberation. The second eschatological perspective of ciu. XIII has directed us from the human body within time towards the human body in the eschatological resurrection. Augustine’s repeated endeavour to defend a bodily resurrection with the help of the Pauline corpus spiritale, turns the reader’s attention towards faith and the life-giving Spirit. The upshot is that the human body participates in the totus Christus. However, Augustine simultaneously stated that Adam possessed an animated body, and consequentially all other humans share in its weaknesses. The third passage of the apologetic work, c. adu. leg., has revealed Augustine presenting Christ as a unifying factor between earthly and heavenly goods. This unity extends to the oneness of Scripture. Once again, Augustine’s Christology does not permit a major separation between eschatological salvation and (corporeal) creation within time. On the contrary, humans are dependent on each other and have a dept to earth. Augustine’s view of the human body remained constantly ambiguous, but positive in its evaluation as an opportunity for salvation. Andrea Nightingale’s conclusion that ‘humans toil on a journey that leads them to transhumanity’ may be amended slightly. Augustine valued a positive contribution from temporary state of embodied life in his theology.27 However, also a constancy has appeared that Augustine was expressing God’s prior initiative in the incarnation of Christ following Pauline concepts. It enabled Augustine to deliberate on the start of restoration in grace, already within this life in faith. In the resurrection, the body in all its aspects will be perfected in the beatific vision. In this Christological perspective, Augustine directs the focus of his audience to the mediating function of the body of Christ.

27

A. Nightingale, Once out of Nature (2011), 197.

Perception, Dreaming and Levels of Consciousness in Augustine’s De Genesi ad litteram XII Enrico MORO, University of Padua, Padua, Italy

ABSTRACT The specific goal of the article is to examine a particularly relevant section of book XII (xx, 42), in order to show how Augustine, through a complex interweaving of philosophical arguments and medical doctrines, conceives of the distinction and the interaction between mind and body. The following topics, in particular, are discussed: the difference between sensation and conscious perception, the reflective self-consciousness during sleep, the temporary alienation of the mind from bodily senses during the ecstatic state, the role of the intentio and the operations of the cogitatio.

In this article, I intend to examine in detail one single aspect concerning Augustine’s doctrine of spiritual visions, on whose general content and philosophical sources many valuable studies have already been published.1 My specific aim is to clarify how the interaction mechanisms between the soul and the body guarantee and regulate the perceptual activity functioning,2 with particular reference to the psycho-physical aspect of the process of the ‘spiritual’3 visions formation. I will focus on the text of De Genesi ad litteram XII, xx, 42,4 1 See e.g. Michael Chase, ‘Porphyre et Augustin: Des trois sortes de « visions » au corps de résurrection’, Revue d’Études augustiniennes et patristiques 51 (2005), 233-56; Jérôme Lagouanère, ‘Vision spirituelle et vision intellectuelle chez saint Augustin. Essai de topologie’, Bulletin de Littérature Ecclésiastique 108 (2007), 509-38; Stéphan Toulouse, ‘Influences néoplatoniciennes sur l’analyse augustinienne des visions’, Archives de Philosophie 72 (2009), 225-47; Jesse Keskiaho, Dreams and Visions in the Early Middle Ages. The Reception and Use of Patristic Ideas, 400-900 (Cambridge, 2015). 2 Using the expression «perceptual activity» I refer not only to what we could define «conscious sensorial perception», but also to a larger range of phenomenon, including subconscious perceptions and the ones related to the vision of mental images (during wakefulness stages and sleep). 3 On the technical meaning of the adjective ‘spiritual’ in the context of De Genesi ad litteram XII, see below, notes 16-7. 4 The critical edition of reference is De Genesi ad litteram libri duodecim, in J. Zycha (ed.), Sancti Aurelii Augustini De Genesi ad litteram libri duodecim, eiusdem libri Capitula; De Genesi ad litteram inperfectus liber; Locutionum in Heptateuchum libri septem, CSEL 28 (Pragae, Vindobonae, Lipsiae, 1894), 1-435 (henceforth Gn. litt.). The composition of the book XII dates back most likely to 414/415: on the chronology of Gn. litt., see Giovanni Catapano and Enrico Moro (eds), Agostino, Commenti alla Genesi: La Genesi Contro i Manichei – Libro Incompiuto sulla Genesi alla lettera – La Genesi alla lettera (Firenze, Milano, 2018), 325-35.

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 91-102. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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which I will examine considering the coeval reflection developed by Augustine in De trinitate, XI.5 1. Causes and ways of spiritual and divinatory visions (Gn. litt. XII, xix, 38-xxiii, 49) Chapter xx is part of a large section of book XII of De Genesi ad litteram (chap. xviii-xxiii), in which Augustine intends to research the causes and ways of spiritual and divinatory visions6 described in the previous chapter.7 After having noticed that these phenomena arouse more astonishment for their rarity than for their extraordinary nature (such visions of incorporeal nature, in fact, are comparable to the normal oneiric visions,8 and their formation is less amazing than the instantaneous process by which the images similar to bodies are dealt with in the soul at the same time as the perception of the external objects), he clarifies how their origin depends on different ways of interaction between the soul and the body. The common experience, in fact, clearly attests that various organic modifications, both physiological and pathological, show, according to the cases, somatic or psychic causes: in the first case they are caused, for example, by the assimilation of external substances, while in the second it can consist of states of agitation of the body deriving from emotional disturbances that upset the soul that supports it.9 Similarly, visions of a spiritual type, while the attention of the soul is focused on incorporeal images without being able to distinguish it from the bodies, can derive from a bodily or spiritual cause. Depending on bodily causes, their production can be the result of: the natural organic processes alternation, such as during sleep; a partial disturbance of the senses, as in delirium; a total interruption of the senses themselves, as in a state of coma. When they depend on a spiritual cause, on the other hand, these 5 The critical edition of reference is William J. Mountain and François Glorie (eds), Sancti Aurelii Augustini De trinitate libri XV, 2 vol., CChr.SL 50-50/A (Turnhout, 1968) (henceforth trin.). The composition of the book XI, whose precise dating is difficult to determine with certainty, likely it is dated a few years after Gn. litt. XII: see Giovanni Catapano and Beatrice Cillerai (eds), Agostino, La Trinità (Milano, 2012), XIII-XXI. 6 Aug., Gn. litt. XII, xviii, 39 (CSEL 28, 406.8-14). 7 Ibid. XII, xvii, 35-38. For a discussion of the examples reported by Augustine (with particular attention to the relationship between oneiric content and the determination of the therapeutic strategy aimed at healing from the disease), see Martine Dualey, Le rêve dans la vie et la pensée de Saint Augustin (Paris, 1973), 181-6. 8 Aug., Gn. litt. XII, xviii, 39. This text contains numerous elements deriving from the philosophical tradition: see M. Dualey, Le rêve (1973), 89-91; Paul Agaësse and Aimé Solignac, ‘Note complémentaire “51. Vision spirituelle et divination”’, in P. Agaësse and A. Solignac (eds), Saint Augustin, La Genèse au sens littéral en douze livres (livres VII-XII), Bibliothèque Augustinienne 49 (Paris, 1972), 568-75, 572. 9 Aug., Gn. litt. XII, xix, 41 (CSEL 28, 407.25-408.6).

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visions are transmitted during an ecstatic rapture that, if it leads to a total estrangement of the soul from the senses, it determines the full cessation of ordinary perceptual activity.10 The thesis of the double causal derivation of the spiritual visions is detailed in the following chapters: chapter xx (which I will partly examine), where Augustine discusses the spiritual visions of bodily origin, and chapters xxi-xxii, where he deals with the visions of spiritual origin (which I won’t examine directly). Chapter xxiii, which concludes this large section of the book, collects the provisional results developed during the previous research, providing a synthetic and complete presentation at the same time. 2. Spiritual visions of bodily origin (Gn. litt. XII, xx, 42) Opening paragraph 42, Augustine observes: (Text 1)11 But when the cause of such visions being observed comes from the body, it not the body that displays them; it does not, after all have the power to form anything spiritual. But sometimes the route of brain’s attention, which governs the mode of sense perception, is either stilled or disturbed, or even blocked off. Thus the soul, which cannot of its own accord cease from functioning in this way, finds itself allowed by the body (or not fully and freely allowed) to sense bodily realities or direct the force of its attention to bodily things. So it throws up the likenesses of bodily things in its spirit or else gazes at ones that are held up to it; and throws them up itself, they are imaginative fancies, while if it is gazing at ones held up to it they are showings.12

The fact that some spiritual visions derive from bodily causes does not mean that the body possesses the ability to produce spiritual entities: if it were, in fact, a lower reality would exert a causal action on a higher reality. The formation of such visions, rather, depends on the intentional action of the soul (intentio), which is normally exercised through the bodily organs. To claim that certain spiritual visions can derive from a bodily cause, consequently, means to highlight that certain conditions or organic dysfunctions can sometimes obstruct, 10

Ibid. (CSEL 28, 408.5-24). The translation of the cited texts is by Edmund Hill: see E. Hill (ed.), On Genesis: A Refutation of the Manichees, Unfinished Literal Commentary on Genesis, The Literal Meaning of Genesis, The Works of Saint Augustine I/13 (New York, 2002). 12 Aug., Gn. litt. XII, xx, 42 (CSEL 28, 409.3-12): Sed cum a corpore causa est, ut talia visa cernantur, non ea corpus exhibet; neque enim habet eam vim, ut formet aliquid spiritale, sed sopito aut perturbato aut etiam intercluso itinere intentionis a cerebro, qua dirigitur sentiendi modus, anima ipsa, quae motu proprio cessare ab hoc opere non potest, quia per corpus non sinitur vel non plene sinitur corporalia sentire vel ad corporalia vim suae intentionis dirigere, spiritu corporalium similitudines agit aut intuetur obiectas. Et si quidem ipsa eas agit, phantasiae tantum sunt, si autem obiectas intuetur, ostensiones sunt. 11

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limit or prevent13 the soul activity, not allowing it to direct its vis intentionis towards external objects and thus undermining, in a total or partial way,14 the perception of these. On one hand, the soul is presented as an essential active reality, and as such unable to spontaneously stop its intentional action. The body, on the other hand, is described as the reality through which this activity necessarily exercises at the moment when the intentio is directed towards external objects to develop their perception. Bodily organs, in other words, act as a vehicle for the intentional activity of the soul aimed at the perception of sensitive realities, but without playing an active role in relation to it; their integrity and effective use, however, are an essential condition for the completion of the perceptual process. On the other hand, the soul can exercise its vis intentionis even regardless of the use of the bodily organs: by concentrating its intentio in the spiritus, in fact, through the spiritus itself it can produce images resembling the bodies or contemplate those that are shown to it by another spiritual reality: in the first case we speak properly of phantasiae, in the second instead of ostentationes.15 Clarified the overall meaning of the passage of the text in question, some brief terminology details are appropriate. The first concerns the expression ‘spiritual visions’, which Augustine intends to refer to an intermediate genre of visions, which are distinguished, since they are intangible, from the lower sensitive ones and, as they don’t resemble extramental physical realities, from the intellectual and higher ones. They are called ‘spiritual’ since they are formed and take place in the ‘spirit’,16 a term in which converge a static (spirit as part of the soul, place and location of the production-manifestation of visions) and an active and dynamic meaning (spirit as vis of the soul generating similar images).17 The second clarification concerns the noun intentio,18 used on two occasions in relation to the perceptual activity exerted by the soul through the body: in the 13 This gradation is expressed through the participle sequence sopito, perturbato, intercluso – see above, note 12, and trin. XI, iv, 7 (CChr.SL 50, 342.19-23) –: the first participle expresses a physiological condition, the remaining two, instead, pathological conditions. 14 Non sinitur vel non plene sinitur: Augustine alludes to the experience of delirium, during which, in wakefulness, the person involved finds himself in the front of indistinguishable similarities (see below, note 27) without this leading to the cessation of normal perceptual activity. 15 On the technical meaning of the term ostensio in this context, see M. Dualey, Le rêve (1973), 113. 16 Augustine declares that he derived the meaning of the term spiritus from the Apostle Paul (Gn. litt. XII, viii, 19, with reference to the Pauline text of 1Cor. 14), but is actually heavily influenced by the reflection of Porphyry. On this point, see the extensive bibliography cited in E. Moro and G. Catapano, Augustine, Commenti alla Genesi (2018), 1598-9, note 28. 17 Aug., Gn. litt. XII, ix, 20 (CSEL 28, 391.8-11). 18 On the concept of intentio, traditionally approached to the Stoic notion of ἐπίτασις (ο τάσις) and τόνος, and more recently to the Neoplatonic notion of προσοχή (with particular reference to Porphyry’s De abstinentia, book I), see the bibliography cited in G. Catapano and E. Moro,

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first case in reference to the route of perception that originates from the brain, in the second case to the vis intentionis that through it is directed, or its heading towards body realities. The use of this word, therefore, is justified in the broader context of the Augustinian doctrine of perception. In summary, according to Augustine, the bodily centre of the soul’s intentio is located in the brain, whose organic structure is divided into three parts (or ventricles): a frontal one, close to the face,19 which manages the perceptual activity; a central one in charge of the direction of the mnemonic activity; and one that regulates the motive activity. The existence of this tripartition is clear from the fact that, if a dysfunction afflicts one of the three activities mentioned above, physicians can successfully intervene on a single area of the brain organ.20 Sensory perception, and specifically visual perception, is therefore determined when the intentio, through thin channels that branch off from the brain, reaches the sensor organs (in this specific case the eyes) and comes out of them, conveyed by imperceptible light rays, reaching the external objects to which it was directed.21 The fulfilment of the sensitive vision, therefore, requires the co-presence of three distinct elements:22 (1) the sensitive reality, which externally exists even before being seen and which is inherent in the body as long as it is seen; (2) the sense of sight, which precedes vision and belongs structurally to the body, acting as an instrument of the soul’s action; (3) the intentio, proper only to the soul, which causes the bodily sense to direct itself and to remain fixed on the sensitive object.23 The vision, which is determined when this conjunction occurs, is properly the condition of the informed gaze, that is, of the gaze, previously formless, on which a form has been impressed corresponding to the sensitive form proper Agostino, Commenti alla Genesi (2018), 1537, note 68, to be updated and compared with the one provided by Jérôme Lagouanère, ‘Âme, corps et conscience de soi dans le De quantitate animae d’Augustin’, Augustiniana 68 (2018), 229-56, 248, note 63. 19 Aug., Gn. litt. VII, xvii, 23 (CSEL 28, 214.15-26). 20 Ibid. VII, xvii, 24 (CSEL 28, 215.3-17); xix, 25 (CSEL 28, 216.10-7). On Augustine’s medical sources, see the bibliography cited in G. Catapano and E. Moro, Agostino, Commenti alla Genesi (2018), 1536, note 64. 21 Aug., Gn. litt. VII, xiii, 20 (CSEL 28, 212.15-24). On Augustine’s doctrine of visions and its philosophical sources, see Gerard J.P. O’Daly, Augustine’s Philosophy of Mind (Berkeley, Los Angeles, 1987), 80-130. 22 Aug., trin. XI, ii, 2 (CChr.SL 50, 334.1-9). For an interpretation of the genesis of Augustine’s «triadic epistomology» (considered in parallel to the metaphysical triad of creatio-conversioformatio), see Christian Tornau, ‘The Background of Augustine’s Triadic Epistemology in «De Trinitate» 11-15. A suggestion’, in Emmanuel Bermon and Gerard J.P. O’Daly (eds), Le «De Trinitate» de saint Augustin: exégèse, logique et noétique. Actes du colloque international de Bordeaux, 16-19 juin 2010 (Paris, 2012), 251-66. 23 The effect of the conjunction of these three terms may vary depending on the intensity of the unitary action conducted by the soul and the own body’s capacity resistance: see trin. XI, ii, 5 (CChr.SL 50, 339.138-43), where Augustine considers the chameleon’s case and the episode narrated in Gen. 30:37-40 (already commented in trin. III, vii, 15).

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to the object (the two forms seem to coincide so much that only reason can seize their distinction); the presence of the form impressed in the sense, such as an oar immersed in water, lasts consequently until the intentional conjunction between the gaze and the external object ceases.24 Similarly, it occurs for the remaining senses located in the face, whereas the case of touch is more complex: it is spread over the entire body surface, reaching the organism’s peripheral areas through the spinal cord and the tenuissimi rivuli that unravel as far as the limbs.25 (Text 2) Finally, when the eyes are sightless or have been put out, visions of this sort do not occur, because the cause is not in the base of the brain which governs attention to sense perceptions, although in this case too an obstacle to the observation of bodily realities is put there by the body.26

The consideration expressed in these few lines at the same time follows and completes the previous statement. The production of «such» visions (huius modi, that is, indistinguishable)27 occurs when the impediment takes place not in the brain, but at the sense organs level (notice as Augustine is still careful to point out a different gradation of the organic impediment, by combining the verbal forms dolent and extincti sunt). The obstacles and organic impediments to the correct fulfilment of perceptual activity, therefore, can be of two types, distinguishing each other on the basis of their respective anatomical location: the outcome that they determine, in detail, is different in the measure in which both prevent intentio to reach sensitive external objects, but only those placed in the brain prevent it from directing and orienting itself towards them. (Text 3) The blind, in fact, see things more when asleep than when awake; when they are asleep, after all, the sensory channel in the brain which leads the attention to the eyes is stilled, and for that reason the attention is turned away to something else and observes the 24

Aug., trin. XI, ii, 3 (CChr.SL 50, 336.62-70). Aug., Gn. litt. VII, xiii, 20 (see above, note 21); VII, xvii, 23 (CSEL 28, 214.17-24). On Augustine’s consideration about the sense of touch, see Michel Perrin, ‘Le toucher et la morale: quelques exemples pris chez Lactance (250/325), Augustin (354/430) et Némésius d’Emèse (fin du IVe siècle)’, in Représentations du toucher (Fontenay, St. Cloud, 1994), 21-50. 26 Aug., Gn. litt. XII, xx, 42 (CSEL 28, 409.12-6): Denique cum oculi dolent vel extincti sunt, quia non est causa in sede cerebri, unde ipsa dirigitur intentio sentiendi, non fiunt huius modi visiones, quamvis cernendis corporalibus obstaculum existat a corpore. 27 For briefness, I call ‘indistinguishable’ the incorporeal spiritual visions that the soul sees internally (that is not through an act of sensory perception) without knowing how to distinguish them from the corresponding bodily realities; on the other hand, I define ‘distinguishable’ those that the soul sees internally, but discerns that they are incorporeal images resembling bodies. The use of the two adjectives, therefore, does not correspond to a difference of nature between the two forms of vision (in both cases, in fact, they are incorporeal images resembling bodies), but a distinction that concerns the ability to discern of the soul (which only in the first case it is able to realize). 25

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things seen in dreams as if specific kinds of bodies were actually present, so that the sleeper seems to himself to be awake, and thinks that he is seeing actual bodies, not just bodily likenesses. But when the blind are awake, the intention of seeing is led along those routes, and on coming to the place of the eyes is unable to reach out to the world outside, but has to stop there; so while knowing they are awake they feel they are in greater darkness by staying awake even in the daytime, than by going to sleep whether in the day or at night.28

The general considerations previously carried out are followed by a detailed analysis, during which various forms of implementation of perceptual activity are examined. Augustine initially makes a comparison between the physiological condition found in healthy individuals and the pathological condition observable in blind individuals. He initially considers the case of blind people. What distinguishes the latter from the normally sighted is the structural lack, therefore not partial or temporary (due to darkness or closing of the eyes) of the sensus.29 In the blind, therefore, the soul does not have a bodily gaze to be intentionally joined to the external body; nevertheless the intentio, as we previously observed the soul cannot spontaneously stop, it continues to carry out its effort, which is manifested in the permanent presence of a sort of appetitus videndi.30 In these lines, the condition of the blind is examined in relation to the dual state of sleep and wakefulness. During sleep, the intentio of their soul encounters an impediment at the brain level, whereby it is not allowed to move in the direction of external objects (it is not allowed, that is to say, to head towards the sense organs); for this reason it is oriented elsewhere (in aliud, that is, probably «towards the spiritus»), seeing indistinguishable oneiric visions.31 In wakefulness, instead, intentio encounters an impediment at the sense organs level, in which it stops: it then has perception of something, which however is not the sensitive form of the external object, but rather the absence of proper form in the darkness that envelops its eyes.32 In the first case, therefore, 28 Aug., Gn. litt. XII, xx, 42 (CSEL 28, 409.16-26): Magis enim caeci aliquid dormientes quam vigilantes vident; dormientibus quippe in cerebro consopitur via sentiendi, quae intentionem ad oculos ducit, ideoque ipsa intentio in aliud aversa cernit visa somniorum, tamquam species corporales adsint, ut sibi dormiens vigilare videatur et non similia corporibus, sed ipsa corpora intueri se putet: cum autem vigilant caeci, ducitur per illa itinera intentio cernendi, quae cum ad loca venerit oculorum non exeritur foras, sed ibi remanet, ut vigilare se sentiant potiusque esse in tenebris vigilando etiam per diem quam dormiendo sive per diem sive per noctem. 29 Aug., trin. XI, ii, 2 (CChr.SL 50, 335.26-31): Nam sensus et ante obiectum rei sensibilis nisi esset in nobis non distaremus a caecis dum nihil videmus sive in tenebris sive clausis luminibus. Hoc autem distamus quod nobis inest et non videntibus quo videre possimus, qui sensus vocatur; illis vero non inest, nec aliunde nisi quod eo carent caeci appellantur. 30 Ibid. (CChr.SL, 50, 335.40-7). 31 Visa dormientium: visio e visum are two Latin translations provided by Cicero for the Greek φαντασία: see Academica priora II, vi, 18. 32 The object of perception, in such a condition, can perhaps be identified in the affectio that shows the presence of the soul itself in the body: Aug., Gn. litt. XII, xx, 43 (see below, note 45).

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blindness leads to a perception of a deceptive nature, to a sort of semblance of what is the wakefulness condition for normally sighted individuals; a wakefulness condition which is instead perceived clearly and distinctly in the second case, without however being accompanied by any form of effective bodily vision. (Text 4) I mean, even those of us who are not blind frequently sleep with our eyes open, seeing nothing through them – but not thereby simply seeing nothing, since we are observing the stuff of dreams in the spirit. If on the other hand we have our eyes closed while awake, we are not receiving the visions of either the sleeping or the waking state. However, the fact that the sensory channel from the brain, being neither stilled not disturbed nor blocked off, reaches our eyes and conducts the soul’s intention as far as these doors of the body, closed though they be, means that we can indeed think about the images of bodies without in any way mistaking them for real bodies that are perceived through the eyes.33

Augustine goes on to consider the case of normally sighted individuals, examining it again in relation to the dual condition of sleep and wakefulness. Even these people during sleep, for the same reasons previously clarified, are dealing with oneiric visions;34 since the impediment of the intentio takes place in the brain, it is also irrelevant that they sleep with their eyes open, half-open or closed. On the other hand, when they are awake, but with their eyes closed,35 they neither see the visions of the wakefulness state nor the sleep state vision. During wakefulness, in fact, the sensation pathways that branch out from the brain are neither dormant (as in sleep), nor disturbed or interrupted (as in delirium or coma): the intentio of the soul therefore reaches the senses and, while unable to escape, it gives life to the thought (cogitatio) of distinguishable bodily images. But what does exactly Augustine mean when he speaks of the cogitatio of images of bodies? We already know that the form of the res sensibilis remains impressed on the sensus only as long as the intention keeps the latter fixed on 33 Aug., Gn. litt. XII, xx, 42 (CSEL 28, 409.26-410.9): Nam et qui caeci non sunt, plerique patentibus oculis dormiunt nihil per eos videntes, sed non ideo nihil videntes, cum spiritu cernant visa somniorum, si autem clausis oculis vigilent, neque dormientium praesto sunt visionibus neque vigilantium. Tantum tamen valet, quod usque ad oculos eorum nec sopita nec perturbata nec interclusa pervenit a cerebro via sentiendi et animae intentionem usque ad ipsas quamvis clausas fores corporis ducit, ut cogitentur quidem imagines corporum, sed nullo modo pro eis habeantur corporibus, quae per oculos sentiuntur. 34 Although Augustine does not say it here, such visions not always are of indistinguishable nature and, at the same time, they are not always distinguishable in equal measure. See Gn. litt. XII, xx, 43 (CSEL 28, 410.19-411.6). 35 Or, we could add, with eyes open in the darkness: see Aug., trin. XI, ii, 2 (see above, note 29) and Gn. litt. XII, xx, 43 (see below, note 45). Although the same effect (the impossibility of bodily vision) is obtained, the two conditions are not fully equivalent. The fact of having your eyes closed by awake, in fact, depends on the intentional operation of the soul that disjoints the sense of the body from the sensitive object: Aug., trin. XI, viii, 15 (CChr.SL 50, 351.72-352.83).

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it. Immediately and contextually, however, the soul produces and stores in the memory a similar image (similitudo) of the sensitive form,36 to which, at a later time, it can voluntarily turn its internal gaze so that it is informed. When this occurs, the internal vision takes place. Mnemonic similitudo, mental gaze and will are then gathered together and forced into unity (in unum coguntur), and precisely in reference to this “gathering push” (coactum) we can speak of cogitatio.37 The cogitatio therefore matches in this sense with the internal vision, which takes place when the conjunction is determined between the mnemonic similitudo of the body preserved in the memory38 and the image that informs the internal gaze of the soul when we remember. Remembering in this sense is equivalent to finding and seeing a similar image in the memory, so that in this case the cogitatio is nothing more than the result of the conjunction of two incorporeal similitudines. The procedures that Augustine leads back to the cogitatio are actually multiple and more complex: acting on the mnemonic data (therefore on the similitudines of the perceived bodies), the soul has the power to picture, with variously likely results, forgotten things (or more exactly to what the exact physical features have been forgotten)39 or not perceived (based on the perception of reality of the same kind)40 through procedures of increase, decrease, transformation and arbitrary combination.41 It is probably this double activity of thought that Augustine alludes to in the final lines of paragraph 42, dealing with the intentional activity that the soul performs in the wakefulness state, when the eyes of the body are closed. To complete the analysis carried out so far, I believe two considerations can be added. The first: although Augustine does not say it explicitly here, the cogitatio can produce distinguishable spiritual visions during the wakefulness state without there being necessarily physical impediments (external darkness or closed eyes). As noted above, in fact, the intentio possesses, alongside the associative ability, a dissociative faculty, by virtue of which it can change the direction impressed on the visual sense (both external and internal). In the situation described above, it voluntarily diverts itself (with a spontaneous motion) 36

Aug., Gn. litt. XII, xxiii, 49 (CSEL 28, 414.22-6). See Aug., trin. XI, ii-iii, 6 (CChr.SL 50, 339.161-340.3); iii, 6 (CChr.SL 50, 340.8-17). For an interpretation (probably inspired by Varro) of the verb cogito as a repeating form of cogo, see Aug., Confessiones X, xi, 18. 38 And kept in latent form even when the attention of the soul is elsewhere: Aug., trin. XI, iii, 6 (CChr.SL 50, 341.32-41). 39 Thought as a form of reactivation of lost mnemonic contents necessarily requires the persistent presence, albeit partial or minimal, of such contents in the reservoir of memory. On the complex relationship between thought, memory and oblivion, see Beatrice Cillerai, La memoria come capacitas Dei secondo Agostino. Unità e complessità (Pisa, 2008), 176-89. 40 Aug., Gn. litt. XII, xxiii, 49 (CSEL 28, 387.8-15). 41 Aug., Gn. litt. XII, vi, 15 (CSEL 28, 414.26-415.4); trin. XI, v, 8 (CChr.SL 50, 343.1-5); x, 17 (CChr.SL 50, 354.12-355.36). 37

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from the external sphere of sensitive objects (thus closing the eyes of the body), and it turns to the internal mnemonic similitudines, thus causing the cessation of visual perception. At other times, however, it flows into the baggage of mnemonic similitudines creating mental procedures without causing, by closing the eyes, a complete suspension of the sensory process. In this case, therefore, the activity of intentio is directed, that is to say concentrated, mainly internally; contextually, the information of the bodily sense by the external object (the passio corporis) takes place, but the formal element thus acquired is not transferred to memory and stored in it. The physical process of sensation therefore takes place, but does not determine a real perceptive seizure (perceptio): its content, consequently, remains relegated to the subconscious sphere, and that particular phenomenon that can be defined as “attention deficit”42 is determined. Thus it happens that you read entire lines without keeping the meaning, hear speeches without seizing the topic, inadvertently continue walking past the destination.43 This concentration, diverted from the senses, can reach such high degrees of intensity that the incorporeal images on which the internal gaze is fixed appear sharp to the point of being indistinguishable44 (like the hallucinatory ones of delirium, which in the wakefulness state derive from pathological conditions of the cerebral organ). The second consideration has to do with the fact that Augustine, at least apparently, attributes to the blind the ability not only to visually capture oneiric spiritual images, but also to think of distinguishable incorporeal images during the wakefulness state.45 Theoretically, it seems that the seizure of oneiric visions by individuals who are blind from birth may be possible: – in the presence of ostentationes, in which case it would have to do with inspired dreams; 42 This consideration is part of the theoretical context of the reflection conducted in the dialogue De quantitate animae, which leads to the definition of sensitive perception as passio corporis per seipsam non latens animam: see De quantitate animae, in Wolfgang Hörmann (ed.), Sancti Aureli Augustini Soliloquiorum libri duo, De immortalitate animae, De quantitate animae, CSEL 89 (Vindobonae, 1986), xxv, 48 (193.11-2). On this issue, see Charles Brittain, ‘Non-Rational Perception in the Stoics and Augustine’, Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 22 (2002), 253-308 (particularly 274-88); id., ‘Attention Deficit in Plotinus and Augustine: Psychological Problems in Christian and Platonist Theories of the Grades of Virtue’, Proceedings of the Boston Area Colloquium of Ancient Philosophy 18 (2003), 223-75; J. Lagouanère, ‘Âme, corps et conscience de soi’ (2018), 250-5 (and the extensive bibliography above-mentioned in these studies). 43 See Aug., Gn. litt. VII, xx, 26 (CSEL 28, 216.18-217.3); trin. XI, viii, 15 (CChr.SL 50, 352.86-107). 44 Aug., trin. XI, iv, 7 (CChr.SL 50, 341.1-342.18). 45 Aug., Gn. litt. XII, xx, 43 (CSEL 28, 211.17-21): […] longe sit tamen ab affectione, qua suo corpori praesentatur: unde se norunt et caeci vigilare, cum similitudines corporum cogitatas a corporibus, quae videre non possunt, certa notione discernunt.

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– whenever the capacity to produce autonomously, that is, without considering the “ordinary” mnemonic reserve, corporeal similitudines is attributed to the soul; – in the case that there are imaginative (therefore non-intellectual)46 mnemonic data in the soul not deriving from a previous sensory perception. Without going into detail of the first two hypotheses, I will briefly dwell on the third eventuality, which I think would appear problematic in Augustine’s eyes. Indeed, it would contradict the principle that it is possible to have memory only of what has been perceived,47 and to think only of this and from what we have memory of;48 this is why, as Augustine himself says, it is not possible for a blind man to imagine a colour that he has never been perceived.49 Even giving the blind the faculty to cogitare distinguishable incorporeal images during the wakefulness state, therefore, appears problematic, unless one hypothesizes its limitation (not explicit in the text) to the temporary blindness sphere. Conclusions The analysis of the psycho-somatic mechanisms that regulate the formation of spiritual visions has highlighted how Augustine reflects deeply on the relationship and interaction between the body and the soul. On the one hand, the Bishop of Hippo considers the latter as two ontologically distinct substances, the union of which implies the instrumental and sometimes difficult use of the first by the second. On the other hand, he enhances the functional interaction between the two substances, pointing out that the body is not simply an inactive tool used by the soul to carry out operations of perceptual and representative nature; but rather, an indispensable means, capable of having a deep influence on the implementation of such operations. The analysis of the text of Gn. litt. XII, xx, 42 has also made it possible to appreciate the “almost phenomenological” detail of the research conducted by Augustine, about which I briefly recall three aspects. 46 Augustine, as known, admits the existence of a particular form of memory ordered to the intelligible, and as such extraneous to the perception and representation sphere: for an accurate discussion of the issue, B. Cillerai, La memoria (2008), 56-74. 47 At the same time and on the other hand, memory is the indispensable condition for the sensation to be constituted as a cognitive activity, in so far as it ensures that the sentient person does not relate to external reality as ‘una sorgente di infiniti segnali istantanei, irrelati e totalmente indecifrabili’. Related to this, see B. Cillerai, La memoria (2008), 222-31. 48 See Aug., trin. XI, viii, 13 (CChr.SL 50, 349.11-350.20); viii, 14 (CChr.SL 50, 351.50-71). 49 See. Aug., trin. XI, viii, 14 (CChr.SL 50, 351.62-6); Klaus D. Duer (ed.), Sancti Aurelii Augustini Epistulae 1-55, CChr.SL 31 (Turnhout, 2004), 7, 6 (18.108-17). About the relation between sensation, memory and imaginative thinking, see Emmanuel Bermon, ‘Un échange entre Augustin et Nebridius sur la phantasia (Lettre 6-7)’, Archives de philosophie 72 (2009), 199-223.

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The first: the theoretical and speculative reflection of Augustine firmly has its roots in the field of experience, as evidenced by the meticulous observation of psycho-somatic phenomena and the wide willingness to appropriate some of the results achieved by the medical science of the time. The second: Augustine attributes a decisive centrality to the notion of intentio in the description of the psychosomatic activities functioning, which determines a considerable awareness of the level changes in consciousness that come along individual perceptual acts. The third (a direct consequence of the second): Augustine dedicates himself with analytical refinement in the distinction of the states of consciousness connected to the oneiric activity, considering a range of cases from the fully indistinguishable visions perceptions to self-awareness of the sleeping subject dealing with the representative dimension of the dream.50 This aspect, incidentally, is even more relevant if we consider the central role played by the dream topic in the context of Augustine’s controversy against the academic Scepticism.

50 During the passage quoted (= Gn. litt. XII, xx, 43), Augustine alludes to a previously described situation in XII, ii, 3 (CSEL 28, 380.23-381.14): Quis enim, cum a somno evigilaverit, non continuo sentiat immaginaria fuisse, quae videbat, quamvis, cum ea videret dormiens, a vigilantium corporalibus visis discernere non valebat? Quamquam mihi accidisse scio et ob hoc etiam aliis accidere potuisse vel posse non dubito, ut in somnis videns, in somnis me videre sentirem illasque imagines, quae ipsam nostram consensionem ludificare consuerunt, non esse vera corpora, sed in somnis eas praesentari firmissime etiam dormiens tenerem atque sentirem. Hoc tamen fallebar aliquando, quod amico meo, quem similiter in somnis videbam, id ipsum persuadere conabar non esse illa corpora, quae videbamus, sed esse imagines somniantium, cum et ipse utique inter illa sic mihi adpareret, quomodo illa: cui tamen et hoc dicebam neque id verum esse, quod pariter loqueremur, sed etiam ipsum tunc aliud aliquid videre dormientem et, utrum ista ego viderem, omnino nescire. Verum cum eidem ipsi persuadere moliebar, quod ipse non esset, adducebar ex parte etiam putare esse ipsum, cui profecto non loquerer, si omni modo sic adficerer, quod ipse non esset. Ita non poterat quamvis mirabiliter vigilans anima dormientis nisi duci imaginibus corporum, ac si corpora essent ipsa.

The Circumcision of the Heart and the Making of Christian Identity in Augustine’s Enarrationes in Psalmos Marie-Ange RAKOTONIAINA, Emory University, Atlanta, GA, USA

ABSTRACT Circumcision is a recurrent motif in Augustine’s exegesis of the Psalms. Inspired by Andrew Jacobs’ study, Christ Circumcised. A Study in Early Christian History and Difference, this article argues that Augustine recognizes and fabricates the original Jewishness of the Christian people at the same time as he offers a radical reconfiguration of circumcision: the circumcisio cordis becomes a distinctive mark of Christian identity. Augustine engages Judaism in a mythical manner that results in his inventive fashioning of Christian identity. Investigating the principles of Augustine’s reconfiguration will focus on the Enarrationes in Psalmos 6, 47, 74, 75 and 113, in light of Sermon 260. These texts represent a small part of Augustine’s world of discourse, but are tied together by their topics (the Psalms and baptism) and represent a coherent discourse on Christian identity. His reconfiguration of Jewish circumcision follows three steps that will outline the investigation. First, Augustine operates the spiritualization and the internalization of circumcision from the flesh to the heart. The bishop incorporates this process within his theology of history, which is not incidental. Second, Augustine reconfigures circumcision as mirroring the sacrament of baptism, which enables the motif to become a crucial element in the making of the Christian people. Finally, in the context of Augustine’s appropriation of Israel’s history, circumcision stands as one crucial element in the bishop’s meticulous reconstruction of the mythical beginnings of Christian identity. The circumcision of the heart points to the (re)constructed Jewishness of the Christian people.

Exploring circumcision, the mark of Jewish distinctiveness and the ancient metonymy of Judaism par excellence, may seem an intriguing enterprise to undertake in Augustine’s Enarrationes in Psalmos. These homilies strike by the beauty of their exegesis1 standing alongside violent invectives against Judaism.2 1 John Burnaby asserts that, ‘if all the works of Augustine were lost but his Expositions of the Psalms and his Homilies on St. John, we should still possess all we needed for a reconstruction of his personal religion’, in his Amor Dei, a Study of the Religion of St. Augustine: The Hulsean Lectures for 1938 (London, 1938), vi. For the most complete study of Augustine’s Exposition of the Psalms, see Michael Fiedrowicz, Psalmus Vox Totius Christi: Studien zu Augustins ‘Enarrationes in Psalmos’ (Freiburg [im Breisgau], 1997). 2 Jason Byassee asks, ‘what of all the awful things Augustine says about the Jews? Would not a return to allegory, and indeed a return to Augustine, also mean a return to the sort of statement sponsored and religiously inspired hatred of Judaism that was sown in the ancient church and

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 103-115. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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Yet, circumcision is a recurrent motif which springs from Augustine’s exegesis of the Psalms. Navigating the spiritual and figurative interpretation of this Jewish ritual opens the door to exegetical strategies underlying the making of the Christian people. The present article hopes to demonstrate that the circumcision of the heart (circumcisio cordis) internalizes the Biblical context and the actual meaning of circumcision for the Jewish-Israelite community. Through this internalization, Augustine engages Judaism in a mythical manner, which results in his inventive fashioning of Christian identity.3 Andrew Jacobs’ recent study of the circumcision of Christ inspired the inquiries that guide the following essay. In Christ Circumcised, Jacobs argues that the Jewish mark of circumcision supports the making of Christian difference.4 He seeks to demonstrate ‘how Christianity can simultaneously reject and reinscribe its own originary Jewishness’ in a process of ‘retention and internalization of difference’.5 Christ’s circumcision allows ‘Christians to imagine, in complex fashions, their relationship to Jews and Judaism, and even imagine Christ in that Jewish matrix’.6 To A. Jacobs, the ‘sign of circumcision, (…) typical yet unique- can reveal a great deal about Christian appropriation of difference, identity and power’.7 reaped in modern times in the cataclysmic harvest of the Shoah? (…) One does not have to search hard in the Enarrationes to find the sort of comments about the Jews that make one’s blood curdle, and that make pro-Augustinian apologists either contort or fall silent’. See John Byassee, Praise Seeking Understanding: Reading the Psalms with Augustine, Radical Traditions (Grand Rapids, MI, 2007), 149. 3 Identity is one of these words endowed with magic, and a spoiled one, too. It is not the goal of this paper to provide a definite definition of identity in early Christianity (should such a task be possible!). Still, the following pages hope to grasp the principles leading Augustine to combine circumcision and the fashioning of Christian identity. 4 Andrew S. Jacobs, Christ Circumcised: a Study in Early Christian History and Difference (Philadelphia, 2012). 5 Ibid. 13-4. 6 Ibid. 3. Thus, A. Jacobs refuses the binary model of definition and exclusion that regimented scholarship on the formation of Christian identity. For his critical engagement with the state of the scholarship on this topic, see ibid. 1-3. He insists in moving beyond the traditional model of ‘normative Christianity’ and the counter narrative inspired by Walter Bauer’s Rechtgläubigkeit und Ketzerei im ältesten Christentum (Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity). W. Bauer’s narrative is one of original Christianity transforming itself from diversity into normativity (ibid. 2). A. Jacobs invokes a move beyond the traditional model and W. Bauer’s binary logic to embrace the process of desire and fear of the other in early Christianity (ibid. 6, 10). This process is part of A. Jacobs’ methodological quest (ibid. 3-14). The socio-anthropological model of boundary formation and exclusion (emerging in the 1960s) serves as his theoretical tool to address the problem of Christian difference. He notes that ‘a different theory of the interaction of difference and identity from the tradition of psychoanalysis, rearticulated recently in feminist and postcolonial appropriation of the works of Sigmund Freud, Jacques Lacan, and others’ constitutes a ‘compelling and useful model for rethinking our historical narratives of early Christian difference’ (ibid. 4). 7 Ibid. 11.

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Inspired by Jacobs’ study, this article demonstrates that Augustine recognizes and fabricates the original Jewishness of the Christian people. At the same time, he offers a radical reconfiguration of circumcision. This process results in his inventive fashioning of Christian identity: the circumcision of the heart becomes a distinctive mark of Christian identity. In investigating the principles of Augustine’s reconfiguration, the following essay will investigate the Enarrationes in Psalmos 6, 47, 74, 75 and 113, in light of Sermon 260. These texts represent a small part of Augustine’s world of discourse, but are tied together by their topics (the Psalms and baptism) and represent a coherent discourse on Christian identity.8 Augustine’s reconfiguration of Jewish circumcision follows three steps that will outline the investigation. First, Augustine operates the spiritualization and the internalization of circumcision from the flesh to the heart. The bishop of Hippo incorporates this process within his theology of history, which is not incidental.9 Second, Augustine reconfigures circumcision as a sacramental mirror of baptism, which enables the motif to become a crucial element in the making of the Christian people. Finally, in the context of Augustine’s appropriation of Israel’s history, circumcision stands as one crucial element in the bishop’s meticulous reconstruction of the mythical beginnings of Christian identity. The circumcision of the heart points to the (re)constructed Jewishness of the Christian people.

1. From the flesh to the heart: spiritualizing and internalizing circumcision 1.1. Augustine’s spiritual and figurative interpretation of circumcision in en. Ps. 6 Augustine’s first phase in his reconfiguration of circumcision embraces figurative and spiritual interpretation. The process results in the motif of the circumcision of the heart, defined as the consequence of one shift in Augustine’s outline of sacred history.

8 In being an exploration of Augustine’s imagination of circumcision and Christian identity, the present essay will not treat Augustine’s relation to actual/real Jews in late antique North Africa and will not attempt to use texts as evidence of an ‘extra-textual reality’. By imagination of course, I do not argue for the absence of reality, rather a reality that is off-the-ground. For a recent study of alternative interpretive approaches, namely using ethnography and the concepts of nationhood, I refer the reader to Eric Rebillard, Christians and Their Many Identities in Late Antiquity, North Africa, 200-450 CE (Ithaca, London, 2012). 9 Here I recall Paula Fredriksen’s affirmation that ‘Augustine’s theology of Judaism (…) incidentally affirmed a new kind of Christian identity’, in her ‘Secundum Carnem: History and Israel in the Theology of St. Augustine’, in Brian Brown, John Doody and Kim Paffenroth (eds), Augustine and World Religions, Augustine in Conversation: Tradition and Innovation (Lanham, MD, 2008), 26-41, 29.

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In his Exposition of Psalm 6, the bishop distinguishes between the era from Adam to Moses and the post-Christum era. The first era represents the era of the outer and the old person (Eph. 4:22), which encompasses a dualism between body, flesh, bodily rites on one side and the inner person or the new person on the other side. While the first era represents the reign of death, carnal observances belong to this period, namely circumcision. But the coming of Christ is the advent of a new age in Augustine’s history of salvation. The circumcision of the heart belongs to this new age, with humanity living spiritually through the rebirth and renewal of the inner self. The circumcision of the heart is the direct consequence of this shift, as Augustine describes it: There is another interpretation, which it would not be unreasonable to accept, explaining why judgment is called ‘the eighth’. It will take place after two generations, one which belongs to the body, the other to the soul. For from Adam right down to Moses the human race lived by the body, that is, according to the flesh. The human race in this era is called the outer and the old person; and to it was given the Old Testament in order that it might herald spiritual things yet to come by means of rites which, however religious, were nonetheless bodily. Throughout this time, when everyone lived according to the flesh, death reigned, as the apostle says, even over those who did not sin (Rom. 5:14). However, it reigned after the likeness of Adam’s transgression, in the words of the same apostle. This is because the period from Adam as far as Moses must be taken to mean as long as the works enjoined by the law – that is, those ritual observances carried out in carnal fashion – were obligatory (albeit in virtue of a mysterious dispensation) even upon those who were subject to the one God. But the Lord’s coming has resulted in a shift from the circumcision of the flesh to the circumcision of the heart. The call has gone out that humankind should live spiritually, that is, according to the inner person, who is also called the new person because of our rebirth and the renewal which enables us to live by the spirit.10

Augustine’s figurative interpretation of circumcision undergoes a transfer from the letter to the spirit, from the body/flesh to the heart, in the all-encompassing shift from the reign of death to the era of spiritual life. The following table illustrates such a shift. Table 1. Shifting eras in Enarrationes in Psalmos 6, 47 and 75 The Old Era from Adam to Moses

The New Era post-Christum

Body

Spirit

Flesh

Heart

Letter

Inner person

Reign of death Renewal/Rebirth

10 En. Ps. 6.2.; unless otherwise noted, all translations of the Enarrationes in Psalmos come from Maria Boulding in Augustine. Expositions of the Psalms (Hyde Park, NY, 2000-4).

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1.2. Ambrose and Augustine’s debt to early Christian tradition The roots of Augustine’s re-appropriation of circumcision through his figurative interpretation of the ritual may be found in Ambrose. Inquiring into both authors’ hermeneutics of circumcision will enlighten Augustine’s paradoxical relationship to tradition, which he likely received through his Milanese mentor. Augustine’s interpretation of the eighth day in en. Ps. 6 departs from Ambrose, whose reading of the eighth day points to the Lord’s resurrection. Augustine reveals the spiritual and inner meaning of circumcision in the context of his explanation of the number eight as the Day of Judgment (‘There is another interpretation, which it would not be unreasonable to accept, explaining why judgment is called “the eighth”‘).11 A closer look at Ambrose’s view will enlighten the uniqueness of both authors. In his commentary on the life of Abraham, Ambrose devotes a chapter on the ritual of circumcision and envisions different conceptions. He interprets the narrative of God’s covenant with Abraham in Gen. 17:10 as the reception of the promise of perfection. Still, perfection dwells in spiritual circumcision. Ambrose quotes Deut. 10:16 to support the duality of the sign and its reality. He concludes, ‘Therefore the intelligible circumcision of the heart as well as carnal circumcision are commanded: the first in truth, the second in sign. The circumcision is dual since one seeks abstinence of soul and body’.12 The circumcision of the heart is a mystical circumcision that enables the generation of good. Ambrose interprets the eighth day as illustrating the resurrection of the Lord, in order to define circumcision as a mystical precept. Ambrose’s mystification of circumcision relies on the duality of abstinence both of soul and body. This mystification highlights the purifying function of spiritual circumcision. The law commands to circumcise the child on the eighth day, a mystical precept indeed (mystico utique praecepto), since it is the day of the resurrection; indeed, Sunday is the day the Lord Jesus rose again. If therefore the day of the resurrection finds us circumcised and stripped off the superfluity of our faults, washed from all dirt, clean from the vices of the body, if then we die clean, we rise again clean. Accordingly, do not circumcise in your flesh but in the vices of the body and do not circumcise only your servant belonging to your home but also the one you purchased for a price.13

Though in Augustine’s Exposition of Psalm 6, circumcision undergoes a similar process of mystification, the bishop’s interpretation dwells in a different understanding of the eighth day. Augustine’s debt toward tradition incorporates changes and innovations commanded by his scriptural hermeneutics. Psalm 6 is the first penitential psalm. To Augustine, it represents the prayer of the Church. The Psalm discloses a supplication to obtain the perfection of conversion (en. 11 12 13

En. Ps. 6.2. Ambrose, De Abr. 2.11.78; my translation. Ibid. 2.11.79; my translation.

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Ps. 6.3,5 and 6).14 Augustine’s commentary thus springs from the penitential tone of the Psalm. The theme of judgment drives his reading of the number eighth signifying the Day of Judgment, while he never mentions the resurrection of the Lord. Thus, in shaping the motif of the circumcision of the heart, Augustine does not completely abide by Ambrose’s tradition of interpretation. Far from being pure search for novelty, his method of interpretation reminds the reader that his first source of inspiration remains the Biblical text. 2. The circumcisio cordis, baptism and the making of the Christian people Augustine’s reconfiguration of circumcision takes a further step in shaping a parallel between the Jewish mark of circumcision and the Christian ritual of baptism. In the bishop’s hermeneutics, both become the founding moments of a spiritual pilgrimage as they mark the reciprocal entrance and the incorporation into the Jewish or the Christian people. Augustine redesigns circumcision as a sacramental mirror of baptism, in that baptism constitutes the perfect alter ego of circumcision. He incorporates it as a crucial component in the making of the Christian people. The circumcision of the Old Testament undergoes a liturgical transfer from a ‘ritual observance carried out in carnal fashion’ (en. Ps. 6.2) to its spiritual counterpart of the circumcision of the heart. But the centrality of the heart does not erase the material.15 The spiritual ritual, the circumcision of the heart, possesses a material and visible mark in Christian baptism, as illustrated by Sermon 260. Preached to newly baptized Christians in the Leontian Church in 409, Sermon 260 enlightens the relationship between baptism and circumcision. Augustine offers a summary of baptism as the transfer from the circumcision of the flesh to the circumcision of the heart, which tells much of the significance of the Jewish ritual for the incorporation to the Christian people represented in baptism. The circumcision of the flesh on the eighth day stands as a sign for baptism: We mustn’t delay, we’ve got a great many things to do; to those who have been born again in baptism, and are today to be mixed in with the people at large, a short but serious sermon has to be given. You that have been baptized, and today complete the 14 Isabelle Bochet, ‘In Ps. 1-32, prélude aux Confessions?’, in Martine Dulaey (ed.), Les Commentaires des Psaumes = Enarrationes in Psalmos, Bibliothèque augustinienne 57A (Paris, 2009), 79-103. 15 On the importance of the heart in Augustine’s Enarrationes in Psalmos, see Isabelle Bochet, ‘Cœur’, in Marie-Anne Vannier (ed.), Encyclopédie Saint Augustin. La Méditerranée et l’Europe IVe-XXIe siècles (Paris, 2005), 272-83. To her, ‘[s]i l’on veut faire droit à l’enracinement scripturaire de la réflexion d’Augustin et respecter le caractère concret et existentiel de son approche [relative au cœur], il est opportun de privilégier la prédication’, and especially the Enarrationes in Psalmos (ibid. 272).

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sacramental ritual of your octave, must understand, to put it in a nutshell, that the significance of the circumcision of the flesh has been transferred to the circumcision of the heart. According to the old law, infants are circumcised in the flesh on the eighth day, and this because of the Lord Christ, who rose again, after the seventh day of the Sabbath, on the eighth, or Lord’s Day. There was an instruction to circumcise with knives of flint, or rock; the rock was Christ (1Cor. 10:4).16

The sermon weaves the characteristics of the Jewish circumcision ‘according to the old law’ with the significance of baptism. The text demonstrates knowledge of the act of circumcising with ‘knives of flint or rock’ as a reference to the Abrahamic covenant in Gen. 17:12, the biblical command in Lev. 12:3, and the second circumcision of the people of Israel narrated in Josh. 5:2.17 Augustine gives a figurative explanation with the aid of Paul’s analogy of the rock with Christ. One may observe that in the Pauline argumentation, the equivalence between Christ and the rock is put within the typological retelling of Exod. 17:6, with water flowing from the rock struck by Moses. Augustine de-contextualizes Paul’s figurative conclusions in order to apply them to the symbolic equivalence between circumcision and baptism. The language of renewal and rebirth further corresponds with the ritual of baptism and recalls the language of en. Ps. 6.2. You are called infants, because you have been born again, and have entered upon a new life, and have been born again to eternal life, provided you don’t stifle what has been reborn in you by leading bad lives. You are to be given back to the Christian people, you are to be mixed in with the people of the faithful; beware of imitating the bad faithful, or rather the false faithful; those who are faithful in their confession of faith, but unfaithful, unbelievers in the bad lives they lead.18

16 S. 260; trans. Edmund Hill, O.P. in John Edward Rotelle (ed.), Edmund Hil. (trans., notes), Sermons 3/7 (230–272B), on the Liturgical Seasons, The Works of Saint Augustine, a Translation for the 21st Century 3/7 (New Rochelle, NY, 1993), 185. 17 See Gen. 17:9-14: ‘God said to Abraham, ‘As for you, you shall keep my covenant, you and your offspring after you throughout their generations. This is my covenant, which you shall keep, between me and you and your offspring after you: Every male among you shall be circumcised. You shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskins, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and you. Throughout your generations every male among you shall be circumcised when he is eight days old, including the slave born in your house and the one bought with your money from any foreigner who is not of your offspring. Both the slave born in your house and the one bought with your money must be circumcised. So shall my covenant be in your flesh an everlasting covenant. Any uncircumcised male who is not circumcised in the flesh of his foreskin shall be cut off from his people; he has broken my covenant’; Lev. 12:2-3, ‘Speak to the people of Israel, saying: If a woman conceives and bears a male child, she shall be ceremonially unclean seven days; as at the time of her menstruation, she shall be unclean. On the eighth day the flesh of his foreskin shall be circumcised’; Josh. 5:2, ‘At that time the Lord said to Joshua, ‘Make flint knives and circumcise the Israelites again.’ So Joshua made flint knives and circumcised the Israelites at Gibeath Haaraloth’ (All English translations come from the NRSV). 18 Sermones 260; trans. E. Hill, Sermons (1993), 185.

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As the eighth day characterizes the Jewish circumcision, Augustine gives it a spiritual significance to equate more clearly both the circumcision of the heart and baptism: the eighth day signifies the day of the resurrection of the Lord in Sermon 260. It is as such that it is attached to the meaning of baptism as exemplifying the moment of ‘mixing’ the catechumens with ‘the people of the faithful’. The sermon expresses the necessity of the ritual to belong to the Church (baptized people) or to the Jewish chosen people. In so doing, Augustine’s play with early Christian tradition appears in the subtlety of its ambiguity. In asserting the eighth day’s relationship to the resurrection of the Lord, he acknowledges or, at least, places himself within the same stream of thought as Ambrose who defined the eight day as such.19 In this context, Augustine shares with Ambrose the same interpretation of the eighth day as illustrating the resurrection of the Lord. This change in the bishop’s hermeneutics of circumcision enlightens the place of the circumcision of the heart in the discourse on the formation of the Christian people. Thus, circumcision and baptism are sacramental mirrors: to be incorporated into the Christian people is to be circumcised in one’s heart. The centrality of the heart and faith reorganizes the significance of the circumcision as a mystical precept while its material practice shifted into the baptismal ritual. 3. The circumcision of the heart and the (re)constructed Jewishness of the Christian people Now comes the time to address the last phase in Augustine’s reconfiguration of circumcision: the manner in which he reconstructs the Jewishness of the Christian people through the circumcision of the heart. The shift from the circumcision of the flesh to the circumcision of the heart is to be read as an indication of Augustine’s appreciation of the Jewishness of the Christian people. While affirming such a Jewishness with the image of the circumcision of the heart, Augustine reconstructs Judaism and Jewishness through a threefold transfer: from ethnicity to ethics, from letter to spirit, from body/flesh to heart/spirit, in the all-encompassing shift from the material to the symbolic/typological. 3.1. Augustine’s appropriation of Pauline thought-categories and the centrality of Rom. 2:28-9 Augustine’s characterization of Jewishness obeys Paul’s definition in his epistle to the Romans. The shifting categories of flesh and body, heart and spirit, are of Pauline essence and inspiration. Augustine’s Exposition of Psalm 47 19

Ambrose, De Abr. 2.11.79.

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exemplifies the Pauline heritage. While he elucidates the meaning of Judah as ‘confession’, Augustine adds, All the children of confession are children of Judea. The statement that salvation comes from the Jews means that Christ sprang from the Jews, neither more nor less. But the apostle tells us, ‘A Jew is not one who is so outwardly, nor is circumcision an external mark in the flesh. A Jew is one who is such inwardly, by circumcision of the heart, not literally but in spirit; and he receives commendation not from human beings, but from God (Rom. 2:28-9)’. Be a Jew of that kind yourself, and make circumcision of the heart your boast, even if you are not circumcised in your flesh.20

As Augustine recognizes the historical moment of the coming of Jesus as well as his Jewishness, he also enters a new dimension thanks to Rom. 2:28-9. This passage redefines Jewishness in Pauline terms and constitutes Augustine’s hermeneutical key. Jewishness is inherent to the inner person and derives from the circumcision of the heart. Once again, one may observe the superimposition of the dualism between the mark of the flesh and the literal on one side and the heart and spirit on the other side.21 The duality circumcision of the flesh/circumcision of the heart shapes the Christian self-recognition as Jews. Such an interpretation is corroborated in Exposition 1 of Psalm 113. Christians are Israelites and in them, the types of the Old Testament are fulfilled. This Christian recognition as Abraham’s descendants also derives from Paul. Rom. 2:28-9 is once again quoted by Augustine to affirm that the circumcision of the heart defines the real Jew in a very similar argumentation as in en. Ps. 47: What conclusion shall we draw, dearly beloved? Already you know yourselves to be Israelites, being Abraham’s descendants; you recognize yourselves to be the house of Jacob and heirs according to God’s promise; realize also that once you have renounced this world you have left Egypt. By distancing yourselves from pagan blasphemies and devoutly confessing your faith you have accomplished your exodus from a barbarous people. It is not your language but a barbarian tongue that is unable to praise God, but you sing Alleluia to him. Judah has become his sanctification in you, for a Jew is not one who is so outwardly, nor is circumcision an external mark in the flesh. A Jew is one who is such inwardly, by circumcision of the heart. (Rom. 2:28-9) Question your own hearts, then: if faith has circumcised them, if confession has purified them, Judah 20 En. Ps. 47.12. The origin of the meaning of Judea as ‘confession’ remains intriguing, but it may come from Philo: in his allegorical interpretation of Genesis, Philo relates the confession of praise to Judah and gives it an incorporeal meaning (‘Because Judah, the disposition prone to make confession of praise, is exempt from body and matter’ and ‘Incorporeal assuredly is Judah with his confession of praise’. See Leg. Alleg. I. 82; trans. F.H. Colson, G.H. Whitaker and R. Marcus, Philo in Ten Volumes (and Two Supplementary Volumes), LCL (London, 1929-1962), 201. 21 It is possible that Augustine thinks of 2Cor. 3 in the background of his demonstration, where the apostle states, ‘our competence is from God, who has made us competent to be ministers of a new covenant, not of letter but of spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life’ (2Cor. 3:6).

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has become his sanctification in you, and in you Israel is his display of power, for he has given you power to become children of God (…).22

Faith is the agent of circumcision, and confession is given a purifying function. This interpretation is confirmed in Exposition of Psalm 74 in Augustine’s unveiling of the revelation given to Jews and Gentiles.23 Though Augustine does not explicitly quote him, Paul’s influence pervades his interpretation of the circumcision. The Old Testament conceals ‘sacred signs still material in character’. As the bishop explains the meaning of ‘the full cup of pure wine in the Lord’s hand’ in Psalm 74, he reveals his theology of the Old Testament using the language of sacrament: Now for the full cup of pure wine in the Lord’s hand. Insofar as the Lord grants me understanding, I think that this symbolizes the law which was given to the Jews, and all those writings we call the Old Testament, full as they are of weighty precepts (…) To resume: in the Old Testament the New lies hidden, as though concealed beneath the dregs of sacred signs still material in character. The circumcision of the flesh, for example, is an ordinance of great mystery (magni sacramenti) and from it we understand what circumcision of the heart is.24

The material is then necessary to lead to the full understanding of the mystery (sacramentum) of the Old Testament, the ‘cup of pure wine’ and the ‘law given to the Jews’.25 3.2. ‘The real Jewry is Christ’s Church’ (en. Ps. 75.2): Judaism baptized or the mythical history of the Christian people Based upon such a tradition, Augustine’s circumcisio cordis contributes to defining a myth-history of the Christian people. For the Jewish people, this myth-history starts with the covenant of circumcision, while the Christian people is given birth through a spiritual circumcision in baptism. The parallelism between the circumcision of the heart for the Christian people and the founding moment of Abraham receiving the circumcision and God’s covenant is striking. 22

En. Ps. (1).113.5. En. Ps. 74.12. The same vocabulary of ‘confessing’ demarcates Jews and Gentiles, which may echo the meaning of Judea as ‘confession’. Augustine introduces a new illustration of this demarcation through the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector: the first stands for the Jews while the second stands for the Gentiles. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid. The symbolism of the cup may recover a Eucharistic meaning: ‘The cup in the Lord’s hand – that is, in the Lord’s power – is a cup of pure wine, because it is a cup of the truthful, unadulterated law’. This cup is the opposite of ‘the cup (…) full of a mixed drink, because it contains the dregs of those material sacraments’. The last cup is drunk by the Jews who lost the sacraments’ significance while the Gentiles drink the pure wine toward justification and transformation of the heart. 23

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In a very similar argumentation to en. Ps. 47, the bishop defines the ‘true Israel’ in the Exposition of Psalm 75. Augustine distinguishes two types of Jews relying on the Pauline notion of the circumcision of the heart in Rom. 2:28-9. Some are Jews by the circumcision of the flesh while others are so by the circumcision of the heart.26 The ‘holy fathers’ were characterized by both but the people lacking the circumcision of the heart are ‘pagan at heart’.27 The dichotomy of flesh and heart reaches a new layer of interpretation. It is no longer the shift from one to the other, rather the union of heart and flesh that constitutes the religious purity of the patriarchs. This union complicates the shift from the old to the new era (en. Ps. 6.2) in giving it two levels of operations. The passage from the old to the new era does not only occur within a historical, horizontal, timeline, from a pre-Christum age to the post-Christum age. The passage welcomes another temporal dimension (vertical, a-temporal dimension) related to the spiritual state of the person, centered on the time of his/her conversion. This dual dimension enables Augustine to affirm that, Many of our holy fathers carried both bodily circumcision as a seal attesting their faith and circumcision of heart which was nothing else but faith itself. People who today vaunt an ancestral name, but have abandoned their ancestors’ way of life, play false to their pedigree. They have degenerated from those ancestors because, though they have remained Jews in the flesh, they are pagan at heart.28 Detached from time, Jewishness may be incorporated in the table sketched in part one of this essay as such:

26 27 28

En. Ps. 75.2.1. En. Ps. 75.2. En. Ps. 75.2.

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This detachment from the first dimension of historical time enables Augustine to read defining moments in the history of Israel so as to incorporate them into a mythical Christian narrative in en. Ps. (1) 113 and en. Ps. 75. The exodus is interpreted in terms of renunciation of the world. Christians are ‘Abraham’s descendants, the house of Jacob and heirs according to God’s promise’ who have left Egypt. The Christian confession of faith represents the ‘exodus from a barbarous people’.29 The first Exposition of Psalm 113 presents the genesis of the Christian people- not a biological one, since Jewishness is no longer defined through ethnicity, but a constitutional one, based on the process of historico-spiritual change and the creativity that commands such a process. The mythological beginnings of the Christian people stem from Judah as stated in en. Ps. 75, in which Augustine transforms the ethnic genesis of the Jewish people into a spiritual one: ‘Jews are people descended from Abraham, from whom was born Isaac, and from him Jacob, and from Jacob the twelve patriarchs, and from the twelve patriarchs the whole race of the Jews’.30 In Augustine’s mind, Christ embodies Judah’s race and David’s line as the prophesied king.31 Thus, to accept Christ is to belong to Judah: The real Jewry is Christ’s Church, which believes in that king who through the Virgin Mary sprang from the tribe of Judah. In him does the Church believe, of whom the apostle was just now speaking in his letter to Timothy: Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, born of David’s lineage, whom my gospel proclaims (2Tim. 2:8). Since David was descended from Judah, and our Lord Jesus Christ from David, we who 29

En. Ps. (1) 113. En. Ps. 75: ‘But the principal reason for their being called ‘Jews’ is that among Jacob’s twelve sons was one named Judah; he was a patriarch among the twelve, and from his stock the kingly rule was established (…). One of these twelve was the tribe of Judah, whence came the kings. Of course, the first king they were given was Saul, who sprang from a different tribe, but he was rejected as a bad king. In succession to him they were given King David, from the tribe of Judah, and from him were descended the other kings, all members of the tribe of Judah. This had been foretold by Jacob in the blessings he had given to his sons: Never shall there fail a prince from Judah, nor a leader from his stock, until he comes who is heir to the promise (Gen. 49:10)’. 31 En. Ps. 75: ‘From Judah’s tribe came our Lord Jesus Christ, for, being born of Mary, he is of David’s lineage (2Tim. 2:8), as scripture states and as you have just heard. In respect of his divinity our Lord Jesus Christ is equal to the Father; quite evidently then he is not merely prior to the Jews but exists even before Abraham, and not merely before Abraham but before Adam, and not only before Adam but before heaven and earth and before all ages, because everything was made through him; no part of created being was made without him (Jn. 1:3). Now when the prophetic words were spoken, never shall there fail a prince from Judah, nor a leader from his stock, until he comes who is heir to the promise, they referred to the early centuries. We shall find that throughout this time the Jews always had kings from the tribe of Judah, which is why they were called Jews; they had never had a foreigner as king until Herod, who was on the throne when the Lord was born. Only from that time, from Herod, were the kings foreign. Before Herod they were all from the tribe of Judah, but this state of affairs lasted only until the coming of the one who was heir to the promise. When the Lord himself came, the Jews’ kingdom was overthrown and taken away from them. They have no kingdom now, because they refuse to recognize the true king’. 30

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believe in Christ belong to Judah; and though we have not seen Christ with our own eyes, we truly know him, because we hold fast to him by faith.32

The circumcisio cordis is then envisioned within the mythical narrative that shapes Christian identity from the Jewishness of its beginnings and of its Savior. The name Judah comes to be attributed to the Christian people as descendants of Christ, from the tribe of Judah, faith becoming the mother of the Christian posterity. In lieu of a conclusion The texts we have been exploring trace a sacramental thread from the mystery (sacramentum) of the Jewish rite of circumcision to its figurative companions in the circumcision of the heart and baptism. Augustine’s world of discourse weaves Christian identity in new fashions reshaping rituals, time and Jewishness. The logic of construction and self-understanding appears as Christians and Jews constitute mirror peoples with mirror sacraments. By mirror, I understand the process of self-definition that encompasses and incorporates the other as the perfect alter ego. Augustine’s rewriting of Biblical history produces more than a pure tactic of imitation of Jewish history and ritualistic self-definition: the bishop defines a spiritualization – or a Christianization – of circumcision that stands as the metonymy of Judaism and incorporates it. Out of circumcised hearts, the Church ascends, renewing herself and giving birth.

32

Ibid.

Augustine’s Appropriation of Cyprian’s Unitive Tropes from De Ecclesiae Catholicae Unitate within his In Iohannis Euangelium Tractatus 1-16 Phillip J. BROWN, Nottingham, UK

ABSTRACT This article will focus on Augustine appeals for unity in his In Iohannis Euangelium Tractatus 1-16. It is demonstrated within the article how Augustine utilises Cyprian’s De Ecclesiae Catholicae Unitate in order to cement Cyprian as a Catholic witness against the Donatists. Through a comparable series of illustrative images, ‘tropes’ borrowed from De Ecclesiae Catholicae Unitate, Augustine weaves them into his call for ecclesial unity. We explore how Augustine draws upon these ‘tropes’ in order to claim the foundational principal of Cyprian’s call to unity as his own. The employment of these ‘tropes’ served as a rhetorical devise for Augustine, as they did for Cyprian. By appropriating the hermeneutical and Rhetorical tools of Cyprian, Augustine is claiming not only him as a Catholic ‘witness’ but also presenting himself as the rightful heir and successor to Cyprian’s legacy. By appropriating Cyprian’s images, Augustine further develops this ‘tradition of the trope’ to bolster his own position by claiming Cyprian as the foundational father of the Catholica Ecclesia in North Africa. In appropriating Cyprian’s images from De Ecclesiae Catholicae Unitate, Augustine is challenging the theological nub of the regional parti Donati who have erroneously placed purity over and above the universal unity of the Church.

Introduction By the time Augustine began delivering his sermons on John, his attack upon the Donatists was well established.1 Ecclesial friction had always been a feature 1 For the literature on the Donatist controversy see, Paul Monceaux, Histoire littéraire de l’Afrique chrétienne depuis les origines jusqu’à l’invasion arabe: Tertullien et les origines. 7 vol. (Paris, 1901-23); William. H.C. Frend, The Donatist Church: A Movement of Protest in Roman North Africa (Oxford, 1985); Frederick Van der Meer, ‘The Pars Donati and the Heretics’, in Augustine the Bishop; The Life and Work of a Father of the Church (London, 1961), 79-128; Gerald Bonner, ‘Augustine and Donatism’ and ‘The theology of the Donatist controversy’, in St Augustine of Hippo; Life and Controversy (Norwich, 2002); Maureen Tilley, Donatist Martyr Stories: The Church in Conflict in Roman North Africa, TTH 24 (Liverpool, 1996); The Bible in Christian North Africa: The Donatist World (Minneapolis, 1997); ‘Redefining Donatism: Moving Forward’, AugStud 42 (2011), 21-32; Donatist Martyrs Stories: The Church in Conflict in Roman North Africa (Liverpool, 1996); General Introduction to, ‘The Anti-Donatist Works of

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of African Christianity. Donatism persisted despite claims of victory, far beyond Augustine’s own death (430 AD).2 These sermons on John, born within this nexus, come to us as In Iohannis euangelium tractatus, (hereafter, Io. eu. tr).3 The dating of the first sixteen are ballasted between two significant dates, that of the Edict of unity (405 AD) and the Conference of Carthage (411 AD).4 In the age of Augustine, Donatism was a regional phenomenon. It had its own tradition as well as theological and ecclesial identity which was anchored in the age of Tertullian, Cyprian and the martyrs. Through most of the fourth Century, previous generations prior to the revolt of Gildo (397 AD),5 had generally seen both Donatist and Catholics living side by side, finding, a relatively amicable co-existence, a ‘modus vivendi’.6 However, previous harassment and distain by the increasingly Catholic State had further entrenched the Donatist identity as antithetical to the Empire and its Catholic co-conspirators. Donatism, with a martyrdom mentality, viewed State sponsored persecution as the crucible Saint Augustine’, in The Donatist Controversy I, WSA I.21 (Hyde Park, 2019); Erica T. Hermanowicz, Possidius of Calama; A Study of the North African Episcopate at the Time of Augustine (Oxford, 2008); Brent D. Shaw, Sacred Violence: African Christians and Sectarian Hatred in the Age of Augustine (Cambridge, 2011); Richard Miles (ed.), The Donatist Schism (Liverpool, 2016); John A. Hoover, The Donatist Church in an Apocalyptic Age (Oxford, 2018). 2 See Jonathan Conant, ‘Donatism in the Fifth and Sixth Centuries’, in R. Miles (ed.), The Donatist Schism (2018), 345-61. 3 The literature on Augustine’s In Iohannis euangelium tractatus (referred to in the main body of this article as, Io. eu. tr., employing Augustinus-Lexikon reference system for all abbreviations for Augustine’s works) is steadily growing and is gaining pace. The limited scholarship is due to a relative lack of attention. On this point see Douglas Milewski, ‘Augustine’s 124 Tractates on the Gospel of John: The Status Quaestionis and the State of Neglect’, AugStud 33 (2002), 61-77; A. Fitzgerald’s ‘Introduction’ to Homilies on the Gospel of John 1- 40, trans. Edmund Hill, WSA I.12 (Hyde Park, 2009), 27-33. Fitzgerald deals with several issue relating to the Io. eu. tr. including the issue of neglect. On the subject of dating, Fitzgerald places the date of Io. eu. tr. 1-16 from ‘Early December’ to ‘June, 407’. Yet he does stress that the dating of the Io. eu. tr. ‘remains indicative rather than securely fixed in every detail’. For a more contemporary assessment on the dating of the Io. eu. tr., particularly in reference to Io. eu. tr. 1-16, see Adam Ployd, Augustine, the Trinity and the Church: A Reading of the Anti-Donatist Sermons (Oxford, 2014), 2. See also D. Milewski, ‘Augustine’s 124 Tractates on the Gospel of John’ (2002), 65-9. For the text Augustine was using see Huge Houghton, Augustine’s Text on John: Patristic Citations and Latin Gospel Manuscripts (Oxford, 2008). 4 For the Edict of Unity see E. Hermanowicz, Possidius of Calama (2008), 15-3; B. Shaw, Sacred Violence (2011), ‘Appendix D’ ‘The Edict of Unity and the Persecution of 347’, 822-24. For the Conference of Carthage see W.H.C. Frend, ‘The Conference of Carthage’, in The Donatist Church (1952), 275-89; Neil McLynn, ‘The Conference of Carthage Reconsidered’, in R. Miles (ed.), The Donatist Schism (2018), 220-48. For a general overview of Donatism and Roman legislation, see Noel Lenski, ‘Imperial Legislation and the Donatist Controversy: From Constantine to Honorius’, in R. Miles (ed.), The Donatist Schism (2018), 166-219. 5 See W.H.C. Frend, The Donatist Church (1952), 208-26. M. Tilley, The Bible in Christian North Africa (1997), 130-41. 6 A phrase borrowed from M. Tilley, Donatist Martyr Stories (1996), xvi; ‘Introduction’, WSA I.21 (2019), 14.

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in which Christians were purified and proved for the Kingdom of God. The arrival of the Constantinian revolution further frustrated this vision of the Church, as it procured the way for the alignment of both Church and State. Many Christians in which apocalyptic attitudes that pervaded the Church in Africa, found this to be unreconcilable. Further to this, the Church in Africa had a long tradition over responses to persecution, particularly regarding the issue of lapsed Christians and schismatics (Novatians). All of this creates the characteristics of African Christianity which continued to inform the intractable schism of Donatism in Augustine’s own day. In many ways, Donatists and Catholics can be defined by the two major response to the State in their modus of forging identity. Maureen Tilley outlines these two responses: ‘Earliest Christianity had viewed the State, specifically the Roman Empire, in two ways, both of which had biblical warrants, and both of which served to strengthen the cohesion of the Christian community’. The first was to see the State as an instrument of God’s authority, or even as ‘gift’. The Second as ‘servant of Satan or the Antichrist’.7 It is this ‘apocalyptic’ approach rather than a more unifying vision of God and Empire (Peter, Paul, Luke et al.) that sets Donatism apart from their Catholic brothers. This vision of themselves, built upon the blood of the martyrs and forged against its uncompromising fidelity to Christ and his Kingdom that set them against Caesar as the Son of Satan. This binary understanding becomes ecclesialised in its formation. The Acts of the Abitinian Martyrs8 lies at the root of the issue as it encapsulates these two approaches to the imperial State. Donatists came to see the Catholics through the lens of this story and others as proof of the Catholic apostasy to Christ in favour of Caesar. Further to this, subsequent persecution and Catholic capitulation with the State, further enforced and entrenched this perception. At the centre of their praxis in light of their history, were the items of the scriptures and the sacred vessels. Catholics in the eyes of Donatists were simply traditores, not only had they ‘handed over’ the sacred items to the State, they had also handed over themselves in association to their defiled forefathers. For Donatists, Catholics were in bed with the great whore of Babylon, it was the Church of Judas, an assembly of Satan. Catholics simply had departed from the true Church and therefore had divested themselves of the gift of the Holy Spirit and thus, efficacy of salvation. Donatists claimed the decrees of Cyprian on this point, who in dealing with the baptism of separatists stated: ‘For water alone is not able to cleanse away sins, and to sanctify a man, unless he have also the Holy Spirit’.9 In other words, Catholics had lost the gift of the Spirit themselves and therefore could not covey it to others. Catholics were at home in the world, Donatist on the 7 8 9

M. Tilley, Donatist Martyr Stories (1996), xii. Ibid. 25-49. Cyprian, Ep. 73.5 (ANF, vol. 5).

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other hand, even in the age of Augustine, still looked back to a time long gone. Concerning the claims and counter claim concerning the legitimacy of the true Church, both would assert their legitimacy of both scripture and sacrament in continuity with Africa’s heritage. In this war of attrition, none was greater in legitimising either sides claim of legitimacy than Cyprian. Catholics were capable of adaption in an ever-changing world, while Donatists looked back to a golden age of the martyrs. As Jesse Hoover observes: Unlike their Caecilianist (Catholics) opponents, Donatism was never able to successfully adapt to the tempora Christiana. Its world of heroic martyrs and beastly persecution, its binary opposition between the True Church and the Church of Antichrist were more suited for the age of Cyprian than Constantine. Built on such archaic foundations, its eventual demise was all but inevitable.10

Nevertheless, prior to the advent of Augustine’s clerical life, Donatist had been the dominate Church in western Africa. Persecution forged it’s beating heart and despite Imperial pressure and continued harassment, it managed to flourish.11 Under the steady stewardship of gifted Orators and theologians, Donatism long held the privileged place of honour amongst the populace. The namesake Donatus, second (Donatist) bishop of Carthage and the gifted Parmenian provided both stability and a resilient confidence for their congregations. By the time Augustine had begun to deliver his sermons on John (406-7 AD) he had long held the Cathedra at Hippo and was at the cutting edge of a reinvigorated Catholic Crusade. He had already written his three major works against the Donatists, Contra litteras Petiliani, Contra epistulam Parmeniani and De baptismo, which forms the central core of his literary response.12 His engagement and knowledge of the pars Donati, as he polemically labelled them, had long been established.13 One may speculate as to why his attention was drawn toward the gospel of John as a further attack upon the Donatists. It would be within a consistent strain of thought to reasonably assume that the Johannine material was more in keeping with their ‘apocalyptic’ vision of the gospel’s relationship to the world, as it presents the Church in contrasting binary terms as other have observed.14 This ‘binary’ understanding within the gospel according to John, light and dark, becomes personified in terms of ‘Sons of God’ verses ‘Sons of Satan’ and provides a validating and authoritative premise for Donatism’s justifying stance. It may be that Augustine began this work as to take the Donatists to task on an 10

Jesse A. Hoover, The Donatist Church in an Apocalyptic Age (Oxford, 2018), 25. On the pressures of the imperial legal system, see N. Lenski, ‘Imperial Legislation and the Donatist Controversy’ (2018). 12 See Éric Rebillard, ‘Augustine in Controversy with the Donatists before 411’, in R. Miles (ed.), The Donatist Schism (2018), 297-316. 13 Ibid. 14 See M. Tilley, The Bible in Christian North Africa (1997), 146. 11

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account of the gospel that was more theologically and ecclesiologically expedient to their worldview. Nevertheless, at the heart of the dispute was a claim to legitimacy and Augustine’s aims were to claim both scripture and tradition as the rightful inheritance of the Catholics. Two things present themselves as the most treasured amongst this inheritance. The first being the books of the gospels, as they were seen as particularly prized,15 and for Augustine none more so that John’s account: ‘Saint John the apostle, who has not undeservedly been compared to an eagle because of his spiritual understanding, raised his preaching up to a much more sublime height than the other three’.16 The second – tradition, none was more coveted than the legacy of the martyred Bishop Cyprian: I wrote seven books, On Baptism, against the Donatists who strive to defend themselves on the authority of the most blessed bishop and martyr Cyprian. In these, I taught that nothing is so effective as the letters and conduct of Cyprian for refuting the Donatists and completely closing their mouths so that they cannot defend their schism against the Catholic Church.17

It is true that Augustine had in his arsenal the canon of scripture, and a ‘canon of approved witnesses’18 to the tradition of the Catholic Church. Both sides would claim that,19 yet in claiming legitimacy both would make their respective cases for authenticity over both scripture and saints via hermeneutics. Both sides would present their cause through the lens of scripture and the writings of the saints, non-more so than Cyprian – who in many regards, was the authoritative arbitrator of all things African. As Gerald Bonner aptly observes, an, ‘African of the Africans … an embodiment of the “antique Roman”’.20 Both Augustine and his Donatists counterparts would appeal to scripture in which Cyprian’s legacy would be highlighted and amplified. Both saint and scripture nourished the way in which the ‘war of pamphlets’21 proceeded.

15

Augustine, cons. eu. I.1, trans. K. Paffenroth, WSA I.15-6: ‘Among all the divine authorities that are included in the sacred writings, the Gospel rightly stands out from the rest’. 16 Augustine, Io. eu. tr. 26.1, trans. E. Hill, WSA III/12 (551); sanctus Iohannes apostolus, non immerito secundum intellegentiam spiritalem aquilae comparatus, altius multoque sublimius aliis tribus erexit praedicationem suam (CChr.SL, 36, 323). 17 Augustine, retr., ACW, 156. 18 Mark Edwards, ‘Augustine and His Christian Predecessors’, in A Companion to Augustine (Chichester, 2015), 215. 19 For a vivid and illuminating presentation on this aspect, see J.A. Hoover, The Donatist Church (2018), 1-12. 20 G. Bonner, St Augustine of Hippo (2002), 277. 21 B. Shaw, Sacred Violence (2011), 411. Brought to my attention by É. Rebillard, ‘Augustine in Controversy with the Donatists before 411’ (2018), 297.

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The Heritage of Hermeneutics One of the key features of the debate between both Catholics and Donatists was their respective rhetorical strategy of interpretatio scripti.22 Through the inheritance of a classical educational system, both Catholics and Donatist interlocutors, often employed their prior rhetorical training23 in order to reveal afresh the will (voluntas) of God through that which what was written (scriptum). This applied to both scripture and tradition. What lay at the heart of this approach was the impulse to expose the voluntas of the author from the scriptum so that the dead letter may live.24 An aspect of this was the way in which ambiguity provided room for the orator to clarify certain verba in order to accommodate (aequitas) one’s own position. We see this in the way in which Augustine and Donatists present their hermeneutical understanding of both scripture and tradition. For example, on the nature of the Church as seen through traditional North African tropes, such as ‘Ark’ and ‘Dove’, both sides will seek to expose the will of God through those texts (Gen. 5-10, Sg. 6:9) through the lens of tradition, accommodated to their respective ecclesiological positions. Cyprian’s arbitrating influence would be sought after by all, though for both side Cyprian’s writings could prove problematic. For example, in the case were the interpretation of certain images provides contradicting and ambiguous hermeneutics, scripture would act as the final authority. In matters of ‘ambiguity’, Augustine will appeal to the highest authority. For example, the image of the Church consisting of both wheat and tares25 proves problematic for Augustine in terms of employing Cyprian as an arbitrating umpire. For the simple reason that Augustine’s polemic fundamentally rests upon the notion that the Church consists of both. Donatist along with Cyprian – on the other hand, seem to side with the view that they have been and should be separated.26 This may seem problematic, as Cyprian seems to justify the Donatist position. One of the ways Augustine deals with this is by appealing to the voice of a superior authority in scripture. He states: 22

Kathy Eden, Hermeneutics and the Rhetorical tradition (New Haven, 1997), 7-40. See Averil Cameron, Christianity and the Rhetoric of Empire: The Development of Christian Discourse (Berkley, Los Angeles, 1991), 120-54. 24 Cicero, De oratore I 31.140; II 26.110. Michael Cameron, ‘“She Arranges All Things Pleasingly” (Wis. 8:1): The Rhetorical Base of Augustine’s Hermeneutic’, AugStud 41 (2010), 55-67, 58-9. 25 See Cyprian, De lapsis and De ecclesiae catholicae unitate, text and translation M. Bévenot, S.J. (Oxford, 1971), 9, 71-3. All translations of De ecclesiae catholicae unitate are taken from this source (hereafter, De unitate) unless otherwise stated. See also 10. Ep, 11.5; 37.2. Augustine, c. litt. Pet. II.45; bapt. IV.13. On the extensive use of Matt. 13:25-30, the wheat and the tares in history of North African ecclesiology, see Geoffrey D. Dunn, ‘Ecclesiology in Early North African Christianity: The Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds’, Augustinianum 57 (2017), 371-401. 26 Cyprian, De unitate, 10: sic et ante iudicii diem hic quoque iam iustorum adque iniustorum animac dividuntur, et a frumento paleae separantur, ed. M. Bévenot (1971), 72. 23

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Hence, along with us, let them rebuke to the utmost the weeds and the chaff of the Catholic crop, but, along with us, let them not refuse to tolerate them with great patience. For [the Lord] did not wish to uproot the weeds and to separate them from the mingled grain ahead of time. Let them both grow, he said, until the harvest (Matt. 13:30). And, when he disclosed the meaning of the same parable to his disciples who were asking him, he did not say, “the field is Africa,” but he said. The field is this world (Matt. 13:38). This crop, then, has been sown throughout the whole world. This crop, then, has been sown throughout the whole world, with weeds sown over it everywhere, and they are both growing everywhere until the harvest. Was Donatus a greater harvester [than the Lord], or had the time of the harvest arrived when [The Donatists] separated themselves from the whole world, although the same Lord says very openly, lest anyone allow himself to interpret according to his own whim, The harvest is the end of the age, and the angels are the harvesters (Matt. 13:39)?27

Thus, superseding Donatist appropriations of Cyprian on the issue. Nevertheless, where Cyprian does agree with Augustine, he is only too eager to highlight it. The central issues concerning the appropriation of Cyprian rests largely upon three pillars. 1). The Church. 2). The sacraments. 3). The relationship with the State (world).28 In essence, they were all interconnected issues which revolved around where the true Church is found. Donatist claimed Cyprian’s voice in proclaiming that those who were found outside the Church had lost their claim on Christ and therefore could not confer valid sacraments to others. Cyprian’s position against schismatics and the lapsed served this position well as we have seen. As Cyprian famously begged the question concerning those who were not members of the Catholic Church, concerning the authority in conveying sacraments, particularly baptism, states: ‘How can he cleanse and sanctify the water who is himself unclean, and in whom the Holy Spirit is not?’29 This position in North Africa had long since been recognised.30 However, Augustine would claim that Cyprian remained part of the Ecclesia Catholica and those whom he condemned where those who had separated from it. In essence, it is hard to see how Donatists could claim Cyprian as their ‘witness’, despite apostasy being regarded by him as a grave sin – disunity was a far greater one. Often the debate over the theological issues would involve Cyprian in an overt manner. Yet often, as we will see – this also was presented in more subtle and subliminal ways. One of the major works of Cyprian that served the Catholic cause well was De unitate. After the departure of Parmenian as Primate of the Donatists Church, and the arrival of Primian – coupled with the arrival of a more able and resurgent Catholic Church in Africa, the ‘modus vivendi’ began to collapse.31 This work 27

C. ep. Parm. I.21, WSA I.21, I.(14)21, 293 (CSEL 51, 42). See G. Bonner, St Augustine of Hippo (2002), 278. 29 Cyprian, Ep, 69.1. Also, see fn 10. 30 See W.H.C. Frend, The Donatist Church (1952), 126. 31 After the death of Parmenian (392 AD), both the political and theological temperature rose drastically between both Catholics and Donatists alike. Primian took up the reigns of the Donatists 28

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of Cyprian – however, had always been at the forefront of Catholic apology. Optatus of Milevis drew on much of the arguments and images Cyprian deployed in this work of De unitate.32 One of the fundamental features of the argument was that those who do not maintain the bond of charity (love), which Augustine makes much of. For him, those who fall outside of the life of the Church fall out of the life of the Trinity. As Mark Edwards states: Augustine, whose every comma is pregnant with deliberation, assumes that he and Cyprian are at one in holding love to be the latent grammar of all Catholic reasoning, whether the subject be the nature of the Trinity, the meaning of scripture, the norms of faith or the function of the church.33

Augustine would utilise the figurative images of Cyprian, in continuation of the heritage of Optatus (Milevis) to claim that the issue of unity trumps all others, including the central issue of the ‘original sin’ of the traditores: For Augustine: ‘the sacrilege of schism, which rises above every crime’.34 In the first sixteen of Augustine’s Io. eu. tr. which Augustine began within the intense rancour of the debate over the schism, is embedded subtlety the work of Cyprian’s De unitate. We shall see the flow of Augustine’s appropriation of this work through the tropes deployed and the sequencing of those images.

Augustine’s Appropriation of Cyprian’s Unitive tropes The images that Augustine deploys are set out in a manner consistent with that of Cyprian’s. Augustine is attempting to present his argument for unity within the first sixteen of his Io. eu. tr. through the prism of Cyprian’s work in order to demonstrate that he (and the Catholic bishops) are the true and rightful heirs of Cyprian. The use of figurative themes as tropes, provide an expedient cause with a zeal that not only ruffled the Catholics but also divided the Donatists. The Maximian schism saw for the first time rival Donatist bishops in Carthage (ca. 393-394 AD). Further to that, Optatus of Thamugadi (Gildonianus) threw his support behind the Gildo the comes of Africa who in 395 was in open revolt against the Empire. This amplified the Catholic cause, which by this time was awash with fresh blood who felt the weight of Empire firmly under them. Claims against Donatist by Catholics of heresy became aligned with Donatist affiliations with revolutionaries. See M. Tilley, The Bible in Christian North Africa (1997), 130-74. 32 Optatus utilises Cyprian’s De unitate extensively and in many ways sets the pattern of apologetics for others such as Augustine to build on. For example, Optatus in his work Against the Donatists draws out Peter as the root of Catholic unity (II 2-9). The garment as a symbol of unity (II 5; III 9). The vine (II 9) as well as more familiar tropes such as Church as Ark (I 5) as well as the Church as ‘Dove’ (II 1). 33 Mark Edwards, ‘The Donatists Schism and Theology’, in R. Miles (ed.), The Donatist Schism (2018), 112. 34 C. ep. Parm. trans, mine, sacrilegium schismatis, quod omnia scelera supergreditur (CSEL 51, 26).

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system of interpretatio scripti hermeneutics which claims the voluntas of God through the scriptures with Cyprian as his witness through well established tropes from De unitate. The illustrating tropes that stand out are: 1) tree/bush; 2) stranger/garment; 3) Rahab/woman as well as the more familiar tropes such as ‘Ark’ and ‘Dove’. Beginning with the more familiar tropes, Augustine weaves into his polemic Cyprian’s call for unity through these tropes. We begin with the common figurative displays in our analysis. Dove/Spirit Comparison Here we see the comparison between Cyprian’s deployment of the Church as ‘Dove’35 which was a common image used to describe the indissolubility of the true Church. Our comparison begins with a common figurative North African image for the one Holy Catholic Church. Cyprian’s De unitate Which one Church, also, the Holy Spirit in the Song of Songs designated in the person of our Lord, and says, My dove, my spotless one, is but one. She is the only one of her mother, elect of her that bare her. (Song of Songs 6:9 [8]).36 Therefore also the Holy Spirit came as a dove, a simple and joyous creature, not bitter with gall, not cruel in its bite, not violent with the rending (laceratione) of its claws, loving human dwellings, knowing the association of one home; when they have young, bringing forth their young together; when they fly abroad, remaining in their flights by the side of one another, spending their life in mutual intercourse, acknowledging the concord of peace with the kiss of the beak, in all things fulfilling the law of unanimity. This is the simplicity that ought to be known in the Church, this is the charity that ought to be attained, that so the love of the brotherhood may imitate the doves, that their gentleness and meekness may be like the lambs and sheep.37

Augustine’s Io. eu. tr. May we also learn what John learned through the dove. After all, the dove did not teach John and then fail to teach the Church – the same Church of which it was said, One is my dove (Sg. 6:9 [8]). Let the dove teach the Dove.38 By this authority, which Christ kept for himself alone and did not transfer to any of his ministers – even though he chose to baptize through his ministers – the Church’s unity

35 See Adam Ployd, ‘The Unity of the Dove: The Sixth Homily on the Gospel of John and Augustine’s Trinitarian Solution to the Donatist Schism’, AugStud 41 (2011), 57-77. 36 Cyprian, De unitate 4. 37 Ibid. 9. 38 Augustine, Io. eu. tr. 5.10.

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stands, the unity signified in the dove, of which it is said, One is my dove; for her mother she is one (Sg. 6:9).39 If a lamb is innocent, then John too is a lamb.40 the disciples were also called lambs: Look, I am sending you like lambs in the midst of wolves (Matt. 10:16) …Was not John himself a lamb?41

One of the telling features here is the way in which Augustine describes the Parti Donati as ‘Kites’ as opposed to Catholics which are ‘doves of the ‘Dove’. For example: Why was it through the simplicity of a dove, my brothers and sisters, that John learned that this is the one who baptizes in the Holy Spirit, if not because those who scatter the Church are not doves? They are hawks, they are kites. Doves do not tear things to pieces.42

The way Augustine describes the Donatists within the same framework as Cyprian’s attack upon the Novatian’s is striking. Cyprian’s juxtaposition of the ‘Dove’ not being a creature ‘bitter with gall not cruel in its bite, not violent with the rending of its claws’ and Augustine’s description of the Donatists as ‘Kite’ serves as a counter image which he often employs within the tractates. It is also interesting that in the Io. eu. tr. 7.5, Augustine uses the description of John for Jesus as the Lamb of God as a terms for all those who point towards Christ: ‘the disciples were also called lambs (Matt. 10:16) … Was John himself a lamb?’ (Io. eu. tr.7.5), another sign that from Io. eu. tr. 7-5, Augustine seems have Cyprian in the background, that those outside of the Church do not have the Spirit and therefore bear no fruit. Tunic/Garment Another illustration of this is the way Cyprian uses the image of the ‘Garment’ to illustrate the bond of Charity: This holy mystery of oneness, this unbreakable bond of close-knit harmony is portrayed in the gospel by our Lord Jesus Christ’s coat (tunica), which was not divided or cut at all, but when they drew lots for the vesture of Christ to see which of them should put on Christ, it was the whole coat that was won, the garment (tunica) was acquired unspoiled and undivided … That man cannot possess the garment of Christ (indumentum Christi) who rends and divides the Church of Christ … By the sacred symbolism of His garment (induimus) was proclaimed the oneness of the Church.43 39 Augustine, Io. eu. tr. 6.6. Io. eu. tr. is an extended sermon on the theme of unity utilising Sg. 6:9. 40 Augustine, Io. eu. tr. 4.10. 41 Ibid. 7.5. 42 Ibid. 5.12. 43 Cyprian, De unitate 7.

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And we compare this to Augustine use of this trope: you are not in the Dove if you are suffering for Donatus. That man was no friend of the bridegroom, because if he had been, he would have sought the bridegroom’s honor, not his own. Notice the friend of the bridegroom saying, This is the one who baptizes. That man was no friend of the bridegroom, the one for whose sake you are suffering. You do not have a wedding garment (vestem nuptialem) on; even if you have come to the banquet, you have to be thrown outside.44

Also, there are further references to this in Io. eu. tr. 9.13: Nor was it undeserved that the one who was not wearing a wedding garment (vestem nuptialem) should be reproached for what he was not: Friend, why have you come in here? (Matt. 22:12).

This all culminates in Io. eu. tr. 13.13: Then, your bridegroom holds the whole world; why do you, in one part of the earth, ruin it? Who is the bridegroom? God is king of all the earth (Ps. 46:8). This bridegroom holds the whole world because he bought it all. See how much he bought it for, to get the right idea of what he bought; what was the price he gave? He gave his own blood. When did he pay it, when did he shed his blood? In his passion. Do not you sing to your bridegroom, or pretend to sing, when the whole world has been bought, They have dug my hands and feet, they have counted all my bones; they however have inspected and observed me; they have divided my clothes among themselves, and over my garment they have tossed dice (Ps. 21:16-8)? You are the bride, identify your bridegroom’s garment (vestem sponsi). Over which garment (vestem) were they tossing dice? Interrogate the gospel, see there to whom you have been engaged, from whom you receive the engagement ring. See what it is saying to you in the Lord’s passion. There was a tunic there (erat ibi tunica); let us see what kind of tunic; woven from the top. What can the tunic woven from the top stand for but charity? What can the tunic (tunica) woven from the top stand for but unity? Pay attention to this tunic, which not even Christ’s persecutors divided. After all, the psalm says, They said to one another, Let us not divide it, but toss dice for it (Jn. 19:23-4). There you are, that is what you heard the psalm say. The persecutors did not tear the garment (vestem); Christians do divide the Church.

Augustine employs the image of a garment in reference to Matt. 22:13 which then moves onto Jn. 19:23-4 which brings it together with Cyprian. Augustine begins with the image of the ‘garment’, ‘vestem’ later drawing the image, ‘tunica’ in line with Cyprians polemic, being that the Spirit belongs to the Church. Here Augustine seems to be again utilising the trope of the garment as an undivided image of the Church that cannot be worn by those who do not belong to Christ and in reference to Jn. 19:23-4, remains undivided. It represents the seamless nature of the unity that the Church embodies as the Bride of Christ bound in the Spirit. Augustine is employing this trope in the context of 44

Augustine, Io. eu. tr. 6.23.

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Cyprian’s use of this trope as an illustration of the indivisible nature of the Church. The phrase Cyprian employs: ‘He cannot possess the garment of Christ who parts and divides the Church of Christ’, Augustine links with friendship and how and belonging to the eschatological ‘wedding banquet’. In other words, those who do not possess the Church universal are not friends of Christ and do not share in the Charity of the Trinity. Woman/Church This trope of the Church as a woman by Augustine is famously known, particularly in the Io. eu. tr. 15.5. In describing the woman at the well as such. In Io. eu. tr. 15, Augustine deals with the Samaritan woman at the well and describes it as: ‘full of mysteries, pregnant in symbols’ (Io. eu. tr. 15.5): It is part of the symbolism of this episode that this woman, who was a type of the Church, came from a foreign people. In fact, the Church, a foreigner to the Jewish people, was going to come from the nations. So then, let us listen to ourselves in her and recognize ourselves in her, and in her give thanks to God for ourselves. She, after all, was a figure, not the true reality, and because she prefigured the reality, that is what she became. For she came to believe in the one who proposed her to us as a figure. So then, she comes to draw water. She had just come to draw water, as both men and women are in the habit of doing.45

In Cyprian we find a similar trope of the Church as a woman: ‘Do you think a man can hold his own or survive, when he leaves the Church and sets up a new place and separate home for himself? For it was said to a woman [Rahab], in whom the Church was prefigured’ (De unitate 8). It is also striking the similar nature and backgrounds of both Rahab and the woman of Samaria. Both helpful foreigners of dubious reputation. It should also be noted that there seems to be a correlation in the sequence of these tropes, and they seem to align with Cyprian’s De unitate. They certainly don’t seem to be governed by John’s Gospel or even arise from it at times. It is also interesting that the Gospel of John and Matthew are amongst the most quoted in Cyprian’s De unitate. However, these three tropes resonate with a consistent strategy for the case against schismatics. The similarity raises the more important factor that it stimulates our understanding of Augustine’s appropriation of Cyprian’s work and it is also striking that Augustine’s seems to be drawing upon Cyprian’s de Unitate which is focused upon the Novatian Schism. Augustine is employing the same tropes in order to not only utilised the authority of scripture through the Gospel of John as well as other New Testament writings, but also claiming the hermeneutical heritage of North Africa in order not only to claim scriptural authority but also 45

Augustine, Io. eu. tr. 15.10.

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established rhetorical strategies and tool. By utilising Cyprian trope from his De unitate, Augustine is also deploying Cyprian himself as a ‘fellow’ co-worker against those who tear the Church apart and seek sacramental vitality beyond the life of the universal Church which is constituted by the Trinity through the bond of the Spirit. Augustine is employing the hermeneutical Scriptural appropriations of Cyprian in order to build upon his scriptural authority to cement his claim that unity trumps everything including claims of spiritual impurity. By utilising Cyprian’s images of unity in this way, Augustine is delivering a hermeneutical double blow in cementing his argument against the Donatists with the two hands of his hermeneutics, the ‘witness’ of both scripture and the tradition, particularly that of Cyprian’s. Conclusion The rancorous debate between Catholic and Donatists by the time Augustine began delivering his sermons on John was set in the midst of an intense atmosphere of Catholic Imperial pressure. Donatism found itself under the full weight of a legal and theological attack. Within the matrix of Augustine polemic, Cyprian’s authority was employed as a foundational keystone alongside that of scripture. Cyprian was utilised at every point of discourse as a ‘witness’ against the Donatists on both a surface and subliminal level. In the first sixteen of the Io. eu. tr. we see Augustine drawing upon Cyprian’s work De unitate in order to demonstrate through the tropes of unity that Cyprian is a Catholic ‘witness’, against the claims of the Donatists. The images employed were common coin for both preacher of imperial educated stock to enflesh arguments for the masses. To display before the eyes of the listeners the polemical points being made. Augustine utilised Cyprian’s hermetical heritage from De unitate within the Io. eu. tr. in order to claim unity as the fundamental principal of Catholicity which Cyprian himself accepted and argued for. Through both the double witness of both saint and scripture Augustine is claiming the hermeneutical credentials of Cyprian and presenting the Io. eu. tr. as a representation of Cyprian’s great call to unity found with De unitate.

Saint Augustine’s Confessions and Speech Acts Jiani FAN, Princeton University, Princeton, NJ, USA

ABSTRACT In Confessions, Augustine confesses (confiteor) the love of God in speech acts through the revelation of the grace, which, in the Christian perspective, lays the cornerstone for the ground of the soul towards modesty, love and truth. Although he continuously refers to ‘I’ (quaeram, mea, mihi, etc.) and ‘we’ (nos, nobis, etc.) in Confessions 1.1.1, the ‘self’ (The concept of ‘ego’ and ‘self’) in the Middle Ages is a complicated subject. We will discuss the question in the following passages. In the Confessions, the ego is humbled to become only an echo to the divine call, by means of his constant citation of the Psalms and the epistles of Saint Paul in his speech acts, for these are the incarnation of God into Word. We will tackle a textual analysis of several aspects of speech acts in Confessions 1.1.1, concerning veracity and truth, self-referential speech, personal pronouns (‘I’, ‘we’, ‘you’, ‘he’), use and mention or iteration (quotation of the Psalms and the Epistles of Saint Paul), silence and enunciation, addressee and recipient as well as principal, animator and author. We will discuss how, according to Augustine, God reveals his own intention to Augustine and advises him to perform ‘confessions of faith, of sins and of praise’.

In his Confessions, Saint Augustine confesses (confiteor) the love of God in speech acts through the revelation of the grace, which, in the Christian perspective, lays the cornerstone for the ground of the soul towards modesty, love and truth.1 Although he continuously refers to ‘I’ (quaeram, mea, mihi, etc.) and ‘we’ (nos, nobis, etc.) in Confessions 1.1.1, the ‘self’ (the concept of ‘ego’ and ‘self’) in the Middle Ages is a quite complicated subject. In the Confessions, the ego is humbled to become only an echo to the divine call, by means of Augustine’s constant citation of the Psalms and the epistles of Saint Paul in his speech acts, for these are the incarnation of God into Word. We will tackle a textual analysis of several aspects of speech acts in Augustine’s Confessions 1.1.1, concerning veracity and truth, self-referential speech, personal pronouns (‘I’, ‘we’, ‘you’, ‘he’), use and mention or iteration (quotation of the Psalms and the Epistles of Saint Paul), silence and enunciation, addressee and recipient as well as principal,2 animator and author. And we will discuss how, according to 1 For this article, I own special debt to Peter Brown, Daniel Heller-Roazen and Eric Gregory. I also have to express my gratitude to Nikolas Churik for reading this article. 2 Principal, instead of ‘principle’, is a term employed in the speech act theory. According to Goffman’s definition in Erving Goffman, ‘Footing’, Semiotica 25 (1979), 1-30, 17: ‘A principal

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 131-145. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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Augustine, God reveals his own intention to Augustine and advises him to perform ‘confessions of faith, confessions of sins and confessions of praise’.3 For Jean-Louis Chrétien, confession is ‘the dimension in which the words of faith become possible’ and means ‘the human response to the call of God’.4 This statement indicates that confession is a particular speech of revelation: especially through answering the call of God, a certain form of truth might be disclosed. But ‘confession’ also means, in the original Hebrew, praise. It does not refer to a revelation of self, but a revelation to others the great deeds of God: magnus es, Domine. In Book 10.1.1 of Confessions, Augustine declares that he would do the truth through confession in his writing: For behold, Thou lovest the truth, and he that doth it, cometh to the light. This would I do in my heart before Thee in confession: and in my writing, before many witnesses.5

Through citing the Gospel of John ‘qui facit veritatem, venit ad lucem (who does truth, he has access to the light – John 3:21)’, Augustine proclaims that his confession as a speech can do the truth, because his naked heart is exposed to the judgment of God through confessing sincerely, before many witnesses, his sins and the temptations that he did not resist. Through praising God and confessing sins in the light of God’s Grace, man might be delivered from those sins.6 Literally, confession as a sacrament, that is ‘an external sign, instituted by Christ and effecting what it signifies’ is also relevant to the function of a speech act, namely ‘an institutional illocutionary speech act with a distinct perlocutionary force.’7 When we designate the speech act of reciting the Psalms is, someone whose position is established by the words that are spoken, someone whose beliefs have been told, someone who has committed himself to what the words say.’ 3 Pierre Paul Courcelle, Recherches sur les Confessions de saint Augustin (Paris, 1968), 13. 4 Jean-Louis Chrétien, Saint Augustin et les actes de parole (Paris, 2002), 121-2. Translated by Jeffery Kosky, in Jean-Luc Marion, In the Self’s Place: The Approach of Saint Augustine (Stanford, 2012), 323. 5 Latin text: ecce enim veritatem dilexisti, quoniam qui facit eam venit ad lucem. volo eam facere in corde meo coram te in confessione, in stilo autem meo coram multis testibus. 6 For further discussions, refer to Joseph Ratzinger, ‘Originalität und Überlieferung in Augustins Begriff der confessio’, Revue d’Études Augustiniennes et Patristiques 3/4 (1957), 375-92, 385 and also Chloë Taylor, The Culture of Confession from Augustine to Foucault: A Genealogy of the ‘confessing Anima’ (Milton Park, 2010), 17. 7 Aloysius P. Martinich, ‘Sacraments and Speech Acts, I’, The Heythrop Journal 16 (1975), 289-303, 293-4. Martinich has also referred to Augustine’s sermons on the Gospel John to talk about the effectiveness of words in a sacrament on the same pages: ‘Now you are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you’. Why did he not say ‘you are clean through the Baptism by which you have been washed’, … unless it is because even in water it is the word which cleanses? Taken away the word, and what is water except water? The word comes to the element and a Sacrament is made, as if a kind of visible word… Where does such power in the water come from, such that it touches the body and washes the heart, unless the word does it…? (In Ioan. LXXX,3).

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in the Old Testament as a sacrament, it means that the sign (signum) in the Psalms is a visible representation of the sacramental reality and truth (res sacramenti and virtus sacramenti), so that through hearing the book of Psalms, ‘which was written before our Lord Jesus Christ came in the flesh, is to see Christ there, to understand Christ there.’8 Not only can speeches in a literal sense produce speech acts, but writing can also be considered as a speech act of confession.9 After succeeding Valerius as Bishop of Hippo in 395 AD, Augustine was compelled to justify the drastic transformation of his life, especially, to address what was involved in his conversion to Christianity from a sinner separated from God. More precisely, he needed to explain by witness to the public that he repudiated the suspicious connections with the Manichaeism of his inglorious past, in the light of God’s protective and salvific grace.10 Those were reasons why in the year of 397 AD, he set about to write the Confessions. It is, nevertheless, tempting to consider confessing oneself before many witnesses as a way of the construction of self-identity, that is, ‘the shaping of one’s inner thoughts to the ear of an external listener’.11 The confessions are the products of introspection performed by homo interior or seipsum as imago dei – a self-made in the image of God.12 Instead of being dishonored by confessing his past sins, Augustine is glorified by the admission of sins as a byproduct of the admission of the faith of God – admitting himself as an imago dei13 and for this reason, the confession of sins is not shameful, but glorious. God, moreover, is glorified by being praised. The viewpoint that speech acts are sacraments is bolstered by Augustine’s ‘symbolic’ view of the nature of the sacraments, which is opposed to the dominant theologians’ view that ‘the sacraments were both signs and causes of what they signified’.14 When the condition – the words of consecration performed in the speech act such as confession and praise – is present ‘on the basis of a contract or pact established by God’, the speech act ‘effectuates the sacrament’.15 However, this interpretation may read later medieval views of the sacrament as causal signs, which Augustine does not share, since he adopts a ‘symbolic’ 8

Carol Harrison, Beauty and revelation in the thought of Saint Augustine (Oxford, 1992), 85. James O’Donnell, Augustine Confessions: Augustine Confessions: Volume 2: Commentary (Oxford, 2012), 232. (10.3.3 10.3.4, confessiones … cum leguntur et audiuntur; 12.26.36; 13.14.15, 12.6.6; cf. 9.12.33, confiteor tibi in litteris). 10 Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo: a biography (Berkeley, 2000), 151. 11 Peter Brooks, Troubling confessions: Speaking guilt in law and literature (Chicago, 2000), 96. 12 Caroline Walker Bynum, ‘Did the twelfth century discover the individual?’, The Journal of Ecclesiastical History 31.01 (1980), 1-17, 4 and P. Brooks, Troubling Confessions: Speaking Guilt in Law and Literature (2000), 96. 13 J.-L. Marion, In the Self’s Place (2012), 28. 14 Ephraim Radner, ‘Church and Sacraments’, in The Oxford Handbook of Evangelical Theology (Oxford, 1963), 279-93, 37. 15 William J. Courtenay, ‘La parole efficace: Signe, rituel, sacré of Irène Rosier-Catach, avantpropos d’Alain de Libera’, Speculum 81/3 (2006), 909-11, 910. 9

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view of the nature of the sacraments. Now we will delve into Augustine’s view about sacraments in the opening passage of his Confessions: ‘Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and Thy wisdom beyond assaying’.16 And Thee would man praise; man, but a particle of Thy creation; man, that bears about him his mortality, the witness of his sin, the witness that Thou resistest the proud: yet would man praise Thee; he, but a particle of Thy creation. Thou awakest us to delight in Thy praise; for Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless, until it reposes in Thee. Grant me, Lord, to know and understand which is first, to call on Thee or to praise Thee? And, again, to know Thee or to call on Thee? For who can call on Thee, not knowing Thee? For he that knoweth Thee not, may call on Thee as other than Thou art. Or, is it rather, that we call on Thee that we may know Thee? But ‘how shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed? Or how shall they believe without a preacher?’17 And ‘they that seek the Lord shall praise Him’:18 for ‘they that seek shall find Him’,19 and they that find shall praise Him. I will seek Thee, Lord, by calling on Thee; and will call on Thee, believing in Thee; for to us hast Thou been preached. My faith, Lord, shall call on Thee, which Thou hast given me, wherewith Thou hast inspired me, through the Incarnation of Thy Son, through the ministry of thy Preacher. (Translation of Pusey, lightly modified).20

The confession of sins and the praise of God as performative utterances cannot be valid and effective unless the confession ‘is authenticated as an act’. Émile Benveniste cited an example of an unauthenticated speech-act because of the lacking of the requisite authority: when someone shouts in the public square, due to the absence of the authority, the speech-act reduces itself to mere futile clamor or lunacy.21 Although Augustine was ordained as the Bishop of Hippo, which conferred the privilege as well as authority of speeches and 16

Ps. 145:3 and Ps. 147:5. Rom. 10:14. 18 Ps. 22:26 19 Matt. 7:7. 20 Magnus es, domine, et laudabilis valde: magna virtus tua, et sapientiae tuae non est numerus. et laudare te vult homo, aliqua portio creaturae tuae, et homo circumferens mortalitem suam, circumferens testimonium peccati sui et testimonium, quia superbis resistis: et tamen laudare te vult homo, aliqua portio creaturae tuae.tu excitas, ut laudare te delectet, quia fecisti nos ad te et inquietum est cor nostrum, donec requiescat in te. Da mihi, domine, scire et intellegere, utrum sit prius invocare te an laudare te, et scire te prius sit an invocare te. sed quis te invocat nesciens te? aliud enim pro alio potest invocare nesciens. an potius invocaris, ut sciaris? quomodo autem invocabunt, in quem non crediderunt? aut quomodo credent sine praedicante? Et laudabunt dominum qui requirunt eum. quaerentes enim inveniunt eum et invenientes laudabunt eum. quaeram te, domine, invocans te, et invocem te credens in te: praedicatus enim es nobis. invocat te, domine, fides mea, quam dedisti mihi, quam inspirasti mihi per humanitatem filii tui, per ministerium praedicatoris tui. Augustine, Confessions, vol. 1, ed. Carolyn J.-B. Hammond, LCL (Cambridge, MA, 2014), 2. 21 Émile Benveniste, Problèmes de linguistique générale (Paris, 1966), 236. 17

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sacrament22 on him in the public sphere, the authority of his own inward conversion did not lie in his restless heart lingering with his past of Manichaeism. If the authority of his conversion from Manichaeism were his own, the words that he uttered would be presumption instead of confessions,23 since the conversion requires the converted man repose his heart in God: ‘Thou awakest us to delight in Thy praise; for Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless, until it repose in Thee’ (Confessions 1.1.1). The requisite authority of God, as an effective agent, transforms an efficient utterance into a speech act with the characteristic of a sacrament, because the intention of devotion is present in the speech acts, which fulfills the condition of a contract established by God, which effectuates the sacrament. That is to say, the Holy Spirit is attributed as the proper speaker of the words of Psalms instead of a human agency.24 In particular, the citation of Psalms, which is instituted by God, testifies to the omnipresent divine authority incarnated in the Holy Scripture. The ‘tolle, lege’ (Confessions, 8.12.29) scene is the conjuncture which provoked Augustine into reading the Holy Scripture and facilitated the completion of his conversion. The incarnation of Word into Flesh is of crucial importance. It is confessed in Confessions 1.1.1: ‘My faith, Lord, shall call on Thee, which Thou hast given me, wherewith Thou hast inspired me, through the Incarnation of Thy Son, through the ministry of the Preacher.’ The event of Incarnation is recorded in John 1:14: ‘And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth.’ Christians usually receive the incarnated flesh of Christ in the Eucharist, and the likeness of the things such as wine and bread to Christ’s blood and fresh is indispensable in the sacrament. However, the wine and the bread only signify Christ’s blood and fresh rather than sanctify it.25 In Augustine’s time, the ‘liturgy of the word’ was an integral part of the Eucharist and included a psalm read or sung by the minister between the reading of Old and New Testament.26 Therefore, the speech act of the priests is crucial for the sanctification of the Eucharist, since it is the faithful person’s intention, instilled by the grace of God, directing the speech acts, that effectuates the ritual. 22

Here, the sacrament refers to Augustine’s actual role as consecrator and distributor of the Eucharist as a bishop in a public liturgical context. 23 Augustine, Confessions: ‘and that afterwards when my spirits were tamed through Thy books, and my wounds touched by Thy healing fingers, I might discern and distinguish between presumption and confession’, 7.20.26. 24 See ‘General Introduction’ in Saint Augustine, Expositions of the Psalms, 1-32, trans. Maria Boulding (New York, 1999), 16. Introduction by Michael Fiedrowicz, 24, Fiedrowicz also refers to Augustine’s Expositions of Psalms, Ps. 48, s. 2,1; 57,7; 68, s. 2,7; 93,9. 25 Peter Lombard, The Sentences (Toronto, 2010), 4. This is a point that debated among Christian sects – whether the bread and wine are the body and blood of Christ or are only (symbolic) representations of them. 26 See ‘General Introduction’ in Augustine, Expositions of the Psalms, 1-32 (1999), 16. Introduction by Michael Fiedrowicz.

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Already in the 4th and 5th century, prayer is an indispensable part of liturgy and offers consensus of the people, who join to say ‘Amen’. Therefore, receiving the Incarnation happens by speaking. However, when the Word is not taken and read as receiving and answering a call, the speech act of confession is not effective at all. In this very context, the principal of the speech act is not the speaking person as an animator – ‘an individual active in the role of utterance production’,27 since he receives a call from the principal28 God in the citation of Psalms and utters it in front of the witnesses. In his Enarrationes concerning the Psalms, Augustine praised Christ as the principal of truth, law and love in the reading of Scripture: ‘Our whole purpose when we hear the Psalms, the Prophets and the Law is to see Christ there, to understand Christ there’ (98.1)’, since ‘Whatever is carved out of the holy page has no other end [finis] than love’ (140.2); and ‘Christ is the end [finis] of the law’ (4.1)29 Through the Psalms, Augustine praised the ‘principal’ incarnated into Flesh ‘whose position is established by the words that are spoken’ and ‘committed to what the words say’,30 when considering Christ as the end of (committed to) love and law. Through quoting the Psalms, Augustine could join his utterance to that of David, since Augustine deemed that Psalms to be the ego-histoire of King David, a real person speaking out loud, 1200 years previously. Thus, Augustine as animator is a legitimate producer of valid speech acts through iteration of King David’s speech act, since speech acts are ‘performed by using linguistic forms, not by constructing them’.31 After all, Augustine used these linguistic forms because he shared with David the grace of God. In the beginning of Confessions, the iteration of passages from the Psalms, such as ‘Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power,

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Erving Goffman, ‘Footing’, Semiotica 25 (1979), 1-30, 18. When I analyze the interlocution between God and human beings, I resort to the concepts such as ‘principal’ and ‘animator’ to discuss the different roles of God and human beings in the confessions. Although I do not agree that Goffman’s structure of the interlocution is universally valid and revise his theory a bit, but the framework of his theory is illuminating for the in-depth discussion about the interlocution between human beings and God. According to Goffman’s definition in E. Goffman, ‘Footing’ (1979), 17: A principal is, someone whose position is established by the words that are spoken, someone whose beliefs have been told, someone who has committed himself to what the words say. Note that one deals in this case not so much with a body or mind as with a person active in some particular social identity or role, some special capacity as a member of a group, office, category, relationship, association, or whatever, some socially based source of self-identification. An animator is an individual active in the role of utterance production. 29 Translated by Michael Cameron, see also Jeffrey S. Lehman, ‘As I Read, I Was Set on Fire: On the Psalms in Augustine’s Confessions’, Logos: A Journal of Catholic Thought and Culture 16 (2013), 160-84, 163. 30 E. Goffman, Forms of Talk (Pennsylvania, 1981), 144-5. 31 Ibid. 144-5. 28

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and Thy wisdom infinite’32 is significant, because the Psalms are anthologies of confessions of faith, confessions of sins and confessions of praise and are compatible with Augustine’s confessions of multiple connotation. Chanting and repeating Psalms that play a central role in the liturgical life of the entire Church, as in, for example, the Mass. Chanting the Psalms as one of the three standard elements of the Liturgy of the Word33 and, as a primary part of the Divine Office, is performed among the pious at least four times per day in the time of Augustine, following the exhortation in Psalm 50:14: ‘Offer to God a sacrifice of praise’.34 Through the reiterative performance of quoting the Psalms, Augustine joined his own congregation with David, transformed the usually self-centered literary genre-autobiography of confessions into a heterobiography (the writing of the life of others) and instituted a sacrament of praise through the assimilation to the liturgical rites. In each repetitive chanting of the Psalms, ever-renewing instances of the Psalm come into being, since the reiteration is connected to alterity and otherness35 in the displacement of context as well as the slight changes in vocabulary and in syntax. Although iteration indicates citing the identical text, it is an impure form of citation by splitting each element and creating a discrepancy.36 One of Augustine’s most conspicuous examples of the iteration is the invocation of God in the opening of Confessions: magnus es, domine, et laudabilis valde.37 Usually, the genre of Confessions, as Latin prose, begins with ‘a dedicatory epistle or a formal proem’, but the invocation as an opening, is ‘more appropriate to poetry than prose’, and therefore the psalmic opening magnus es, domine is not only inserted in a new context, but also blurs the demarcation between the genre of Latin poetry and prose and facilitates Augustine’s enterprise of inventing new prose styles.38 The invocation magnus es, domine, et laudabilis valde is a revised citation from different versions of Biblical texts, especially Psalms.39 32

Ps. 14. See also James D. McCawley, ‘Speech Acts and Goffman’s Participant Roles’, Proceedings of the Eastern States Conference on Linguistics, Vol. 1 (Columbus, OH, 1984), 26074, 261. 33 Robert F. Taft, The Liturgy of the Hours in East and West: The Origins of the Divine Office and Its Meaning for Today (Collegeville, 1986), 45. 34 Jeffrey Lehman, ‘As I Read, I Was Set on Fire: On the Psalms in Augustine’s Confessions’, Logos: A Journal of Catholic Thought and Culture 16/2 (2013), 160-84, 161-2. 35 Jacques Derrida, ‘Signature event context’, in Limited inc (Evanston, 1988), 1-24, 16-20. 36 Ibid. 24-5. 37 J. O’Donnell, Augustine Confessions (2012), II 8-10. 38 Ibid. 39 James O’Donnell has done a thorough investigation of the sources of this opening sentence in Confessions: Ps. 95:4, quoniam magnus dominus et laudabilis valde; Ps. 144:3, magnus dominus et laudabilis valde, et magnitudinis eius non est finis; Ps. 47:2, magnus dominus et laudabilis valde, in civitate dei nostri, in monte sancto eius; Ps. 95:4, quis ‘dominus’, nisi Iesus Christus, ‘magnus et laudabilis nimis’? (The text at en. Ps. 95:4 has nimis for valde with the Roman Psalter; but the Verona Psalter has valde, and the adverb is the same in the LXX at all three texts cited here: σφόδρα).

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As an iteration, Augustine revises the syntax and the vocabulary of the Psalm passages, and he especially employs the second person and a vocative to address to God, which humbles Augustine himself and confesses the magnitude of God.40 In this sense, iteration is symptomatic of the absence or the alternation of elements in the presence of the remaining elements.41 In the very instance of the iteration of Psalms in Confessions, the discrepancy lies in: 1) the appropriation of the Hebrew Psalms into a Christian liturgical context and the Christianization of the Hebrew Scripture according to modern scholars’ viewpoint. Nevertheless, Augustine cherishes a ‘fundamental conviction that the psalms represent a prophecy of the new covenant’ and that the Old Testament testifies to the New Testament.42 2) The creation of the liturgical polyphony by virtue of the displacement of personal pronouns such as ‘I’, ‘we’ and ‘you’ from the dimension of the personal, to interpersonal or even to the ‘metapersonal’, in which Christ is the true speaker of the Psalms, or rather, ‘the whole Christ (Chistus totus) as an organic human unity and a ‘corporate personality’.43 As to the first question – the displacement of the Psalms in different contexts – initially, Psalms were sung in the Jewish ritual contexts, such as in Jewish temples or synagogues to eulogize the Lord who ‘redeems Israel from all its iniquities’ (Ps. 25:22). But later, Christian communities not only appropriated the Psalms for their liturgical and clerical offices in the late fourth century AD, in whose chant Christ was considered to be the speaker or the referent of redemption, but laypeople also practiced the recitation of Psalms as a part of their daily devotion.44 Nevertheless, some stories of Jewish writing now show See J. O’Donnell, Augustine Confessions (2012), II 8-10. O’Donnell has obviously done a lot of good work on this, but up to Augustine’s time, there was no universally authoritative Latin translation of the Bible (as Augustine’s exchange with Jerome illustrates, among others). 40 Ibid. 8-10. 41 J. Derrida, ‘Signature Event Context’ (1988), 7, see also Kevin Halion, Deconstruction and Speech Act Theory: A Defense of the Distinction between Normal and Parasitic Speech Acts, 1989, PhD Dissertation at McMaster University, available online at https://www.e-anglais.com/ thesis.html as well as J. Derrida, ‘Limited Inc a b c’, in Limited Inc (Evanston, 1988), 29-110, 53. 42 See ‘General Introduction’, in Augustine, Expositions of the Psalms, 1-32 (1999), 16. Introduction by Michael Fiedrowicz, 23-4. Here, Fledrowicz also cited a passage from Augustine’s Expositions of the Psalms 101, s. 1.19: Let this be written for another generation. When this was written, there was little profit to be had from these events amid which someone wrote it. No, it was written to foretell the New Testament, and yet written in the lifetime of people who were still at the Old Testament Stage. 43 A term coined by Andrea Nightingale, see ‘The “I” and “Not I” in Augustine’s Confessions’, Arion: A Journal of Humanities and the Classics 23 (2015), 55-78, 55-65. See also See ‘General Introduction’ in Augustine, Expositions of the Psalms, 1-32 (1999), 16. Introduction by Michael Fiedrowicz, 57. 44 A. Nightingale, ‘The “I” and “Not I” in Augustine’s Confessions’ (2015), 55-65. Nightingale contends that Augustine shows the readers his unique journey to God through writing an autobiography and also offers readers a way to join their own voices to Christians on a

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that use of Psalms increased in Judaism in 4th and 5th century, so the general increase in the use of Psalms might reflect mutual competition between Christian and Jewish communities.45 However, according to the Old Testament, the Jewish community preferred the old Law and the Messiah to the Son of God. Furthermore, in the very case of Augustine’s appropriation of the previous adaptation of the Jewish Psalm – Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and Thy wisdom infinite46 – the Psalms are more internalized as an inward dialogue between him and God, since the intended addressee is God (although we cannot exclude the ‘we’ as ratified recipients). Although a context is to create a horizon of meaningful intelligibility and truth, Derrida claimed that the context of performing speeches is never absolutely determinable and the displacement of context does not necessarily indicate the falsification of the text cited, or rather, to some extent, the network of the communication actualizing the displacement of context is a preliminary to the iteration of the same speech, because whenever we cite a text, the time, space and the situation of enacting the text change definitely, and we reincorporate the text into a different context.47 In Augustine’s case, sometimes when he cites the Psalms, he resorts to the grace of God for his conversion. However, the same texts in the Psalms, when invoked by the Jews in Diaspora, indicate the Jewish people’s entreaty of God’s salvation in a miserable condition. Augustine transposed the external and historical event concerning the Diaspora into ‘the inner and moral sphere with the help of Pauline metaphors on slavery to sin’.48 The displacement of the Psalm from one context to another as a rupture of stable presence marks the transcendentality of the iteration in the different possibilities of writing, which not only disrupts ‘the authority of the code as a finite system of rules’, but also ‘any context as the protocol of code’.49 Although late Roman manuscripts did not have quotation marks and were different from the modern English transcription of the Psalm with quotation marks and the indication of Biblical passages, when the text is cited in a context different from the original one, it is a symptom of breaking with any given context. This does not mean that the text is out of context but out of all contexts, since the text itself is without any central anchoring. The repetitive citing of Holy Scripture out of one context but into illimitable contexts is the very sign of the normality of iterability, which can be illustrated by the chanting and re-chanting Psalms in

meta-personal level. Thus, he incorporates an ‘other’ voice into his text that opens him (and his readers) to the chorus of the church as a whole. 45 Ibid. 46 Ps. 145:3 and Ps. 147:5. 47 Ibid. 9. 48 See ‘General Introduction’, in Augustine, Expositions of the Psalms, 1-32 (1999), 16. Introduction by Michael Fiedrowicz, 35. See also Exp. Ps. 84:4-5. 49 Ibid. 8.

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Masses and in daily devotion of layperson.50 And Augustine’s purpose of citing Psalms lies in actualizing the interpretation of Psalms and applying the Psalms to actual circumstances,51 which necessitates literally citing the Psalms out of one context and into different actual contexts. With the quotation of the Psalms – Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and Thy wisdom infinite – although the praise is initially not performed by Augustine as an animator or a principal (the principal is the Word incarnated into flesh), it is addressed to Augustine as an addressee. Augustine re-performs it and reactivates the chant of the glory of God,52 especially when Augustine composes his own prose like the Psalms. This constant re-chanting of the glory of God in different contexts either in a drastic instance of conversion to Christianity or in a continuous everyday liturgy is significant. Augustine considers the Psalms as songs (Cantilenae) and even points out that their original Hebrew syntax has come to influence spoken Latin. Put into the mouth of Augustine and those of the ordinary people in the Mass and elsewhere by the Holy Spirit, every re-chanting is a manifestation of the effectuation of grace (caritas) on different occasions. In addition, evoking God in every context constituting a speech-act makes God known to the animator, and helps him to find the Highest, as contend Augustine and the Psalms: ‘they that seek the Lord shall praise Him’:53 for ‘they that seek shall find Him’,54 and ‘they that find shall praise Him’.55 If they are not chanted or re-chanted constantly in different contexts, the Psalms cannot accomplish the sacrament of praise, or rather they remain desolate piles of written utterances. As a result, even though the Psalms have an omnipotent principal and author, they would lack a devoted animator and the speech is suffocated into silence or sinks into oblivion without being performed. It is the performance of the Psalms in ever-changing contexts, which invoked the advent of the Christ in the Jewish ceremonies, and the omnipotence of the Holy Spirit in the everyday liturgies and the redemptive effect of the Holy Word in the Bishop of Hippo’s conversion, which constitute a unity of the praise of the Grace. Although conducted in three different ritual contexts, these three performances constitute legitimate sacraments, since the utterance in the Psalms is issued from God, who puts the holy words into human beings’ mouths. They are sacraments instituted by God so that they might cause grace in the soul of those worthy to receive them. Similarly, the context of quotation and interpretation of the Scripture in Confessions 1.1.1 is displaced from a collective congregation to a private prayer, yet it is still God who institutes the 50

J. Derrida, ‘Limited Inc a b c’ (1988), 65. See ‘General Introduction’, in Augustine, Expositions of the Psalms, 1-32 (1999), 16. Introduction by Michael Fiedrowicz, 24. 52 J.-L. Marion, In the Self’s Place (2012), 21-2. 53 Ps. 22:26. 54 Matt. 7:7. 55 Saint Augustine, Confessions 1.1.1. 51

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confessions, while Augustine’s heart resonates with the calling of God. At the beginning of Confessions 1.1.1, Augustine hesitates between the priority of calling God and of knowing God, and to some extent, he even attributes parallel importance to calling and knowing God, since words in the calling of God are efficient tools for the purpose of signifying various mental concepts, and they are of the nature of form with regard to the things and are more spiritual than things in a sacrament, so the determinate words are indispensable for the sacrament.56 In some sense, the theophany as God revealing himself to believers in the Confessions is not substantial (such as the wine and the bread as consubstantial of the body of Christ in the Eucharist) but a consequence of a linguistic evocation performed through speech acts instituted by his Word incarnated into Flesh, since either one has to call God in order to recognize and know Him, or if one believes in the existence of God, one has to proclaim it as homage.57 It is ambiguous whether in this proclamation of God, the principal is a converted man or God Himself, but with the Holy Spirit, man shares God with Christ. After all, those who chant the Psalms are animators (according to Goffman, ‘an individual active in the role of utterance production’)58 of it, God is the principal and David is the author of Psalms. Ostensibly, it seems that it is Augustine who takes the initiatives to call God, ‘My faith, Lord, shall call on Thee’, but after further investigation, through the last sentence in Confessions 1.1.1, ‘My faith, Lord, shall call on thee, which Thou hast given me, wherewith Thou hast inspired me, through the Incarnation of Thy Son, through the ministry of the Preacher’, we observe that faith is the product of the descent of Grace which is a gift endowed by God to us instead of a gift from us. On this account, in the same vein as the humble citation of the Psalms and the forthright confessions in a Jewish or Christian congregation, Augustine’s speech act here is not a solipsist monologue that emphasizes the glory and the identity of the self. On the contrary, the speech acts aimed to create a heterobiography told by Augustine as an animator-an individual active in the role of utterance production – from the point of view of God who is the principal of the speech act59 and triggered by the love of God who instructs him to confess and to scrutinize his sin out of grace. 56 Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, III, translated by the Fathers of the English Dominican Province (New York, 1947), 56. 57 Saint Augustine, Confessions 1.1.1, and also see the analysis of William Franke, ‘Augustine’s Confessions and the Transcendental Ground of Consciousness, or How Literary Narrative Becomes Prophetic Revelation’, Philosophy and Literature 38 (2014), 204-22, 209. 58 E. Goffman, Forms of Talk (1981), 144. 59 J.-L. Marion, In the Self’s Place (2012), 45: Marion uses the concept ‘hetero-biography’ when he construes the passage 2.3.5 in Confessions, and draws the conclusion that ‘In short, it is not an auto- but a hetero-biography, my life told by me and especially to me from the point of view of another man, from close to the privileged other, God’: Cui narro haec? Neque enim tibi, Deus meus, sed apud te narro haec generi meo, generi humano… Et ut quid hoc? Ut videlicet ego et quisquis haec legit cogitemus, ‘de quam

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In addition, the displacement of the contexts from a Jewish synagogue to a Christian congregation or to a private prayer does not reduce or modify the redemptive function of the chanting Psalm or the eternal glory of God, because by citing the same sections in the Holy Scripture, the Christian sacrament and the Jewish sacrament can be considered as the continuation of one and the same sacrament since the Jewish one retained the similar ritual forms of the Christian one.60 Moreover, because of the righteousness and faithfulness to their own savior among the Jews observing the Old Testament, through faith the first sacraments announce the future coming of Christ – the final cause of the sacraments in the light of the old Law ‘precedes not in time, but in the intention of the agent’.61 In all the three cases, the intention of the agent is more significant. When the three groups dedicate their sacraments of praise wholeheartedly and believe in God, grace will descend from God to efface sins, not because of the effect of prayers, but because of Christ’s passion and by God’s gift rather than by man’s gift.62 Furthermore, what is the difference between the enunciation of the same text in the context of a Christian congregation and in Augustine’s Confessions? Is the latter instantiation more like a monologue, an internalization of the divine discourse, an effervescence of self-disclosure vis à vis a silent God which is no more than a solipsism? The solipsism is definitely opposed to Augustine’s own definition of a sacrament in which he emphasizes the importance of the gathering of believers by association in sacraments: ‘into no name of religion can men be gathered together unless they be bound by association in certain signs as if in visible sacraments (Contra Faustum 19)’, so that the believers can create a mutual bond to help each other to observe the new Law in the Gospels. In order to elucidate the problem, now we address the question concerning the significance of the personal pronouns such as ‘I’, ‘we’ and ‘you’ in the iteration of liturgical polyphony and its relationship to the speech-act created by Augustine himself as an author (not necessarily a principal). What does the ‘I’ refers to? Does it refer only to the ego or a congregation of ‘I’s? Is this ‘I’ ‘transcendent with regard to you’ as an authority and a subject created in a discourse or even ‘as the psychic unity that transcends the totality of the actual profundo clamandum’ sit ad te’ (to whom am I telling this? For it is not to you, my God, but it is in your sight that I am telling these things to those of my kind, the human race … And why is that? Assuredly so that myself and whoever will have read them will direct our thoughts ‘from the bottom of the depths out of which we cry’ [Ps. 129:1] toward you) (Confessions, 2.3.5). 60 Ibid. 9. 61 Ibid. 7-8. 62 Ibid. 11 and Lombard, Peter, The Sentences (Toronto, 2010), 21: ‘As many of you as have been baptized in Christ, you have put on Christ. – It may be said that those who are baptized in Christ put on Christ, whom they have dwelling in them through grace.’

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experiences it assembles and that makes the permanence of the consciousness’?63 But affirmative replies, however, seem contrary to what the ‘I’ refers to as well as the intricate relation between ‘I’ and ‘you’ in Confessions 1.1.1. ‘Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and Thy wisdom infinite’.64 And Thee would man praise; man, but a particle of Thy creation […] Grant me, Lord, to know and understand which is first, to call on Thee or to praise Thee?

In the passage above, as the opening of the Confessions, through chanting the Psalms, Augustine evokes God by chanting the Psalms. In a speech act, the reference of a vocative is normally the addressee. With the vocative case domine in the cited passage, God is marked by the second person as the addressee of the speech act, which is opposed to the unmarked first or third person.65 Here, the ‘domine’ is replaceable by ‘you’ as a counterpart of ‘I’ (da mihi) in an interlocution. Yet, seemingly, the interlocution appears at first glance rather to be a monologue, because God keeps silent and is overshadowed by Augustine’s constant flux of confessions at a first glance. Nevertheless, the vastness of God is ‘beyond saying’ as confesses Augustine and the ‘I’ is only a segment of what ‘you’ created. In view of the ontological difference66 in the asymmetric relationship concerning the hierarchy of beings between God and Augustine, namely, the former as an omnipotent, omniscient creator of all beings and the latter as a creature, Augustine or the Psalmist as ‘I’ is not a transcendent subject with regard to God as ‘you’. In Benveniste’s general linguistics, if ‘I’ is considered as a transcendent ego because of the fact that ‘I is transcendent with regard to you as self-referential concerning the enunciator’,67 ‘I’ is capable of grasping the ‘you’ as a comprehensible object. And according to Benveniste’s observation, the transcendent ‘I’ seeks to create an imaginable person ‘you’ outside of ‘me’, in order to transcend ‘me’ and to create a personal relationship,68 since God is not simply another being among the beings and as intelligible as the other beings. In this very specific relation between ‘I’ and ‘you’, instead of observing a metaphysical mode of

63

E. Benveniste, Problems in General Linguistics (Miami, 1971), 224-5. Ps. 145:3 and Ps. 147:5. 65 J. McCawley, ‘Speech Acts and Goffman’s Participant Roles’ (1984), 264. Barbara Sonnenhauser and Patrizia Noel Aziz Hanna, Vocative!: Addressing between System and Performance (Berlin, 2013), 277. 66 I borrow Jean-Luc Marion’s definition of ‘ontological difference’ to designate the difference between the Creator and the created, see J.-L. Marion, In the Self’s Place: The Approach of Saint Augustine (2012), 302: The difference between the immutable and the moving becomes an indirectly ontological difference, that of the ways of Being of beings, 51 and organizes being as a whole on the basis of a distinction as originary, indeed more originary – the distinction of the created and the Creator. 67 E. Benveniste, Problèmes de linguistique générale (1975), I 123. 68 E. Benveniste, Problems in General Linguistics (1971), 201. 64

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speech as the predication of ‘I’ about ‘you’,69 ‘I’ (Augustine) speak to ‘you’ (God) what ‘you’ speak about ‘me’. Augustine identifies himself sometimes with the ‘I’ either cited from the Psalms or the Psalms evoked by him and sometimes with the third person, he, when he describes a general human condition, ‘man, but a particle of Thy creation; man, that bears about him his mortality’ (Confessions 1.1.1). Referring to himself as a third person, Augustine treats himself as an object ‘located outside direct address’ or even as a ‘non-person,’ since the third person does not exist as a participant in an interlocution and is only mentioned by the selfactualizing first and second person.70 Thus, in some instances, the self should be speculated by Augustine’s own consciousness or with the recourse to the revelation of God instead of being a transcendent ego depositing ‘you’ – God. Correspondingly, the silent God as ‘you’ breathes this revelation into Augustine, as a gift in the form of the Humanity of his Son or ‘through your (God’s) ministry of the Preacher (per ministerium praedicatoris tui)’. Although we are not sure whether the praedicatoris refers to Saint Ambrose, whose preaching initiated Augustine into his conversion to Christianity or Saint Paul, who transmitted the Evangelical messages everywhere after his transformation from persecutor to praedicator, or according Marion, the praedictoris can be translated as he who spoke in advance so as to underscore God putting words into human beings’ mouths. Whichever interpretation we adopt, the most pertinent referent of the praedicator would be Christ who preaches the Gospels universally as a master of all the preachers. Nevertheless, it is undeniable that Paul also imitates Christ in preaching, so ministerium praedicatoris is polysemic in this context. Meanwhile, he administers and consummates the predictions in the whole Church.71 After all, it is the Incarnation of Word and the transmission of God’s Word by His Preacher that God breaks silence and sends his own Word to sinners. In opposition to the non-transcendent ‘I’ with respect to ‘you’ in Confessions 1.1.1, ‘You’ – God – is transcendent, such that he ‘encompasses him as a portion of the Creation’72 and endows ‘your’ love to all creatures. ‘Your’ words invoke the polyphony of our chanting ‘your’ glory even in the quasi-monologue of Confessions, which is substantiated by the shift from the first singular pronoun to the first plural pronoun: ‘I will seek Thee, Lord, by calling on Thee; and will call on Thee, believing in Thee; for to us hast Thou been preached: quaeram te (I will search for you), domine, invocans te, et invocem te credens 69

J.-L. Marion, In the Self’s Place (2012), 9. E. Benveniste, Problems in General Linguistics (1971), 229. 71 See Salamanca José Oroz Reta, ‘Vocation divine et conversion humaine d’après saint Augustin’, SP 19 (1989), 300-9, 303. 72 W. Franke, ‘Augustine’s Confessions and the Transcendental Ground of Consciousness, or How Literary Narrative Becomes Prophetic Revelation’ (2014), 210. 70

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in te: praedicatus enim es nobis (to us).’ It concerns not simply a pluralization with regard to the quantities of interlocutors, but as an inclusive form as I + they, the universal congregation of the faithful believers into whom God breathes new spirits and loves, since Augustine cites the most important canons of Christian life, such as Psalms, Epistles of Paul and Gospels. Meanwhile, he activates the texts through performing them as an animator of different ‘I’s and ‘we’ referring to people across time and geography. This polyphony of praises of God is amplified from ‘I’ into ‘we’ not only in the confessions of one penitent individual, but also in the congregations in Masses and in everyday rituals of devotions, which are ‘more massive, more solemn and less defined’,73 and this polyphony testifies to the eternity and the limitlessness of God’s love.

73

E. Benveniste, Problems in General Linguistics (1971), 203.

The Transformation of Desire in Saint Augustine’s Confessions and the Sermones ad Populum as a Paradigm for our Pilgrimage Hana BENEŠOVÁ, Prague, Czech Republic

ABSTRACT The article1 wants to show the importance of discerning desire in our lives as a fundamental stimulus to discover who we are and where we belong. In our society, where the identity of an individual is shattered by so many possibilities without wise guidance, it is vital to offer some indications. Hence, Augustine (345-430), so attractive for all generations, will be our companion. His conversion offers a pattern for demonstrating and determining the moment of when his transformation began, when he was able to look beyond his worldly ambitions and recognise a voice ordering him to read the gospel to follow His Redeemer. It is the moment when Augustine finds in himself the strength to go along the Saviour’s narrow paths2 and comes to believe that God is the source of pleasure and repose. We have used qualitative research to understand the concept of using the words cupiditas and desiderium in the Confessions in the past. At this point we ought to explain why we narrowed down the terminology of desire of the great rhetorician. The reason is that the article investigates primarily Augustine’s transformation of his desires. This study is motivated also by an interest in how the preacher of Hippo integrates his profound transformation in sermons helping his audience to undergo the challenging journey of leaving everything behind to reveal and reflect divine revelation in their lives. The sample of six sermons from the Sermones ad Populum wants to demonstrate his effort to lead his audience to see past their worldly determinations and to help them to reflect God’s grace in their lives. I analyse and interpret them through the knowledge of Augustine’s conversion. The hypothesis is that the moment of the beginning of a transformation has to be reflected because at this moment we meet God and we are capable to perceive ‘his great love for us’.3 Thus, this moment is in eternity and by reflecting this event we develop the Imago Dei in us and at the same time, the longing for God intensifies. By capturing this reality, we can appreciate God’s grace and by experiencing his love for us we long for participating in Christ’s mysterium paschale to minimize the distance between God and ourselves.

1 2 3

This work has been supported by Charles University Research Centre program No. 204052. See Henry Chadwick, Saint Augustine Confessions (New York, 1991), 133. Eph. 2:4.

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 147-156. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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According to the citation from the Epistle to the Ephesians which is stated above, it is evident that one of the crucial stimuli for conversion – for a transition from death to life4 is a cognition of God’s great love for us. To experience this, we believe that two facts have to come together: the awakening desire to discern God’s love to us and divine grace. We call this union the opportune moment which is bound to be reflected. Therefore, we will also describe the situations in which the seeker of wisdom experienced the encounter of divine grace and his longing focused beyond his accustomed habits and aims. The Confessions was written around 397, fourteen years after Augustine’s conversion. By writing his autobiography, he portrayed his journey from his secular ambitions to the realization that it is the Lord that grants him happiness in Himself.5 Hence the question is: How was Augustine transformed through the experience of God’s revelation? What helped him to understand that God made him for himself and that his heart finds peace until it rests in Him?6 We can see during Augustine’s conversion these fundamental features – discerning his desires and realization that his senses are blurred – perceiving a moment which is opportune to recognize God’s love for him – discovering the Imago Dei in him and longing for the beata vita and finally the intention for the constant move of his will from cupiditas to the desiderium megliora. In the following paragraphs, we will clarify these stages of his transformation.7 Augustine explains in book VI from the Confessions, which ambitions – cupiditatibus – distorted his perception and confesses that he aspired to honoribus, lucris, coniugio.8 We can object that the first two are indifferent and can be either good or bad according to their realisation and particularly marriage itself is the sacrament. However, Augustine – and this has to be emphasised – did not find dulcedines in them. Further, he explains why he could not take delight in those magnetic objects. In book VII we read about Augustine who believes in God who cares for us and judges us. Nevertheless, he endures enormous suffering that enables him to share these even with his closest friends. The source of this torment is in his vigourous search for the origin of evil. In his searching, he stands before God who knows the desiderium suum. The battlefield is in his heart which has not experienced – unlike his intellect – a fully new dawn yet. Quae illa tormenta parturientis cordis dei. Only after finding his right place between God and things could he discover rest and health. 4

See Eph. 2:5. See H. Chadwick, Saint Augustine Confessions (1991), 180. 6 See ibid. 3. 7 ‘I am the food of the fully grown, grow and you will feed on me. And you will not change me into you like the food your flesh eats, but you will be changed into me’, see H. Chadwick, Saint Augustine Confessions (1991), 122. 8 Martin Skutella and Luc Verheijen, Sancti Augustini Confessionum libri XIII (Turnhout, 1981), 79: Inhiabam honoribus, lucris, coniugio, et tu inridebas. Patiebar in eis cupiditatibus amarissimas difficultates, te propitio tanto magis, quanto minus sinebas mihi dulcescere quod non eras tu. 5

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He realises that he has to turn his attention inward to find the source of sweet pleasure which is God’s love and mercy. At last, he discovers the light that is above him. Augustine recognises that he lives in regione dissimilitudinis, hence he has to retire from everything so familiar to his senses and set off for a pilgrimage. On the contrary, the desiderium megliora drew him to God, cleansed his sight, his perception. For example, after having read the Hortensius (374) he started longing for the immortality of wisdom.9 Later, when Augustine unearths his memory before God, he confesses that the Lord is his love and desire.10 Cupiditas inhibits him from finding wisdom he discovered at the age of nineteen but desideratio megliora makes him restless to think to reflect his place in the order of the creation and search for the strength to help him abandon secular hopes and dedicate himself wholly to God. According to Augustine, it is not self-evident to see the truth beyond created beauty.11 This is why we tend to respond to the things aiming at craving, which forcibly leads us to grasp, to possess and to use for our gratification, but sometimes, to our great surprise, this kind of satisfaction leaves us uneasy and frustrated, as we could see in Augustine’s search for gratification. The perception of the senses becomes distorted by being obsessive, which results in dissatisfaction and anxiety. Our guide knew how difficult it was to cast off chains12 which bind freedom, blur the truth and pulls us away from God. Why does it matter so much to release the senses from the chains of obscurity? We have said above that it is crucial to know who we are. The first task, the vocation of all human beings, is to live. To be alive means moving forward. If there is no movement forward, we would decend, as Emmanuel Mounier writes, ‘to something much lower than to the animal level’.13 Therefore, we are called to abandon all that hinders us from going forward14 and restore our perception without distortion. This effort requires to put aside blindness, fear and anxiety so that we can start to comprehend the subtle but real and intensive desire, which leads us to the Truth. This task, this vocation of a human being requires some essential steps to be realized. Firstly, to cleanse our perception so that we can see the Creator, ourselves, creature, people and 9 Martin Skutella and Luc Verheijen, Sancti Augustini Confessionum libri XIII (1981), 30: Ille vero liber mutavit affectum meum, et ad te ipsum, domine, mutavit preces meas, et vota ac desideria mea fecit alia. viluit mihi repente omnis vana spes, et inmortalitatem sapientiae concupiscebam aestu cordis incredibili. 10 Martin Skutella and Luc Verheijen, Sancti Augustini Confessionum libri XIII (1981), 155: Tu refulges et places et amaris et desideraris. 11 See H. Chadwick, Saint Augustine Confessions (1991), 184. 12 Ibid. 150. 13 Emmanuel Mournier, Personalism (Notre Dame, 2001), 68. 14 Then Jesus told his disciples: ‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me’, Matt. 16:24.

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things without distortion, how they are. Next, ceaselessly continue to live in a tension between desiring the world and desiring God.15 How this ambition (mission) can be pursued will be further explored. It is evident to see the dynamic and fundamental connection between movement and desire. Barbaras defines desire as a tension which leads beyond the self to a living movement.16 The objection is that desire is necessary for identifying that we are an Imago Dei, invited to become a similitudo Dei. The third stage is to analyse the critical moment in Augustine’s life in which by God’s grace, he finds the paths leading from cupiditas to the desiderium megliora. There is the inspiring story told by Augustine’s friend Ponticianus (386) who worked at the court. His colleagues – while walking outside the town – came across a house of God’s servants and being inspired by reading a book about saint Antonine they immediately decided to take up the life of hermits. Saint Augustine, after hearing the story was humiliated and ashamed by these two uneducated men who ‘rising and capturing heaven’, because he a man with ‘high culture without any heart’ did not even attempt to follow.17 Augustine describes this moment as him being stirred by inward goads,18 which would not allow him to continue his journey but by a healing hand being brought back to health.19 The great convert, the eloquent narrator confesses that finally, he was ready to respond to a roar of his conscience in him. Having reached a dead-end in which a human being turns to God and is delivered from blindness, sin. It is a transition to an entirely new situation. St. Paul calls this new existence to be in Christ, to be a new creation, to clothe ourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ.20 For the future bishop of Hippo, it was not without burning struggle and experience of the agony of death to finally give up and surrender himself to God.21 There is much to say about the passage where he – a man of profound faith well acquainted with scripture – finally renounces himself entirely in God’s arms. Nevertheless, it is enough here to highlight that he did it with the knowledge that ‘no one can be continent except God grants it, and this very thing is part of wisdom, to know whose gift this is’.22 He could confess this because he has already experienced the effects of divine power at the beginning of his new life. How simply he shares this: ‘The

15

See Rom. 12:2. See Renaud Barbaras, Desire and Distance (Stanford, 2006), 124: ‘Desire is the tension that establishes the autonomy of movement, the unassignable excess beyond the self that defines the living movement’. 17 See H. Chadwick, Saint Augustine Confessions (1991), 145. 18 Ibid. 120. 19 Ibid. 121. 20 See Rom. 13:14. 21 See H. Chadwick, Saint Augustine Confessions (1991), 146. 22 Ibid. 106. 16

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effect of your converting me to yourself was that I did not now seek a wife and had no ambition for success in this world’.23 We could see in Augustine’s conversion the crucial moment of transition stirred up by the experience of divine revelation in his life. He reflects his thought, worries and feelings and in this reflection, he could reveal God’s interventions in his life. Moreover, it is vital that Augustine in his cogitation24 proves the truth about each human being that we are an Imago Dei, but we remain incomplete in our present existence to desire for participation in God’s life and become a similitude of God.25 The desire for a happy life makes a human being to undertake an effort to direct the will towards God. A prerequisite of this is a journey into one’s own inner life, into memory. For the apparent reason it is essential to analyse desire in book X in the Confessions.26 Augustine starts it with the confession that the Lord gives him delight and is an object of love and longing: tu refulges et places et amaris et desideraris (§2). He knows that the Lord is the only one to heal his sicknesses27 and also confesses that his love for Lord is certa conscientia (§6). Then Augustine starts explaining his comprehension of memory. He compares it to a vast profundity where we can do some investigations but nec ego ipse capio totum, quod sum (§15). He emphasized the difference between ‘cogo’ and ‘cogito’; the first one means passively collect, unlike the other means to think. There are four perturbations of the cupiditatem, laetitiam, metum, tristitiam (§22). He points out that we can recall these agitations out of memory’s store but without their taste. Augustine marvels at the potency of memory and portrays its infiniteness. Then he asks where and how he can find God, seeking the beata vita (§22). Augustine poses the question of how we know about the happy life we desire and wants to know utrum in memoria sit beata vita (§21). For clarification, he gives an example with knowledge of numbers: when a person knows numbers the search for this knowledge is completed, but Augustine stresses that to learn about the happy life does not stop desiring it and to hear this word makes us happy. Finally, he declares that he already knows from Cicero that desire for happiness is found in everybody. The real happiness is in God, and other joys are not true ones. We now turn to the second part of the article in which we want to make a brief inquire how in his sermons the saint preacher uses his own profound experience with almighty God who delivered him from the great sicknesses of his sins28 ‘into his marvellous light’ (1Pt. 2:9). We will do it by reading some 23 24 25

Ibid. 153. See De trinitate libri quindecim, CChr.SL 50A, 381-535. See Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo: A Biography (Berkeley, 1969), 156. Also De trin. XIV,

8,11. 26 H. Chadwick, Saint Augustine Confessions (1991), 179-98; Martin Skutella and Luc Verheijen, Sancti Augustini Confessionum libri XIII (1981), 155-72. 27 H. Chadwick, Saint Augustine Confessions (1991), 179. 28 Ibid. 33.

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of his Sermones ad populum.29 The sermons were chosen according to the framework of Augustine’s conversion, which means that there can be found similar stages: discerning desires and the realization that our senses are blurred – perceiving a moment which is opportune to recognize God’s love for us – discovering the Imago Dei in us and longing for the beata vita and finally the decision for the constant movement of his will from cupiditas to desiderium megliora. How he uses these terms in his sermons will be the matter of our interest now. Augustine’s cognition of infinity is profoundly transcendent, beyond average comprehension, his desire to capture heaven lays aside his rights and interests and leads him to surrender himself to God. The preacher of Hippo transmitted this mystical knowledge with great responsibility30 to his audience. It is essential to state that unlike the Populum Dei who thought that the world was the battlefield Augustine turned the Christian struggle inwards; for him, the soul is the place where an inner struggle against forces was.31

Concupiscentia in Augustine’s sermons, number 96, 98, 107, 252A Sermon 96 (PL 38, 584-9) On the words of the gospel Mk. 8:34 Date 416 or 417 In this sermon Augustine reflects on the command given by Jesus ‘Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me’ (Mk. 8:34). By meditating the sermon, we can appreciate the fact that his thoughts are based on his own experience. At first, he shares his strong faith in the Lord’s help with his audience, and then he shows them the difference between getting lost themselves and denying themselves on their way to follow Jesus. He describes how much people are willing to endure to get what they love. Furthermore, He names the same concupiscentias he once aspired for: love for money, ambitious and being licentious. Sive sit honoris amator, qui 29

There are about 580 Sermones of populum, and I recommend for further study the book written by Anthony Dupont, Preacher of grace: a critical reappraisal of Augustine’s doctrine of grace in his Sermones ad populum on liturgical feasts and during the Donatist controversy (Boston, 2014). 30 ‘When the elderly and Greek-speaking bishop Valerius of Hippo needed an eloquent preacher, he appointed the former professor of rhetoric Augustine (354-430) as a priest. Valerius gave Augustine as a priest (at that time) the exceptional authorization to preach, a heretofore unheard-of assignment for a non-bishop. When Augustine succeeded Valerius as bishop of Hippo, he considered this ministerium sermonis one of his most critical episcopal duties. His solicitude to deliver good sermons is testified to by his roughly 800 preserved sermons, which represent probably a mere ten per cent of the sermons he actually gave’, A. Dupont, Preacher of grace (2014), 1. 31 See P. Brown, Augustine of Hippo (1969), 244.

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vocatur ambitiosus; sive sit corporum pulchrorum amator, qui vocatur lascivus (§1). He explains that by loving what is outside themselves means forsaking God. As an example, He takes a prodigal son and demonstrates with this parable two movements. The first movement which takes him away from the Father, which means losing himself, and the second movement leading from himself to the Father where ‘he can keep himself in the utmost security’. Redit ad se, et pergit ad patrem, ubi tutissime servet se (§2). There is a significant shift redit ad se, but as Augustine does not stay there but pergit ad Paterm. This is the opportune moment in which desire to be saved by God, pure cognition. Augustine knows it from his own life; therefore, he can be so convincing in his sermons. Sermon 98 (PL 38, 591-5) On the words of the gospel Lk. 7:11-5 Date shortly before 418 In this sermon Augustine’s echoes familiarity with sin and liberation from an evil habit qua premitur anima (§5). He emphasises the effects of the miracles on people. Moreover, it is of lesser importance when people are only astonished by seeing a miracle. There is more behind Jesus’ performance of miracles. This sermon focuses on the three dead persons whom the Lord raised. What he sees beyond is restoring life through Jesus’ presence in a soul. He names four stages of sin and the places where they are realized. Again, we can follow the pattern of movement in this case from the house to the tomb which means in the figurative sense from the inside of a heart to outside of the whole body and beyond. It starts when nescio quis commotus est aliqua concupiscentia (§5) and terminates in consuetudine (§5). The prerequisite condition for having experienced Jesus’ power in one’s life is that one is displeased with oneself. Qui autem faciendo quod malum est (§5). He knows it very well because the similar journey is described in the Confessions (VIII 12-3). He also acknowledges ‘how the Lord delivered him from the chain of sexual desire, by which he was tightly bound, and from the slavery of worldly affairs’ (Confessions VIII 13) There is shown a vital fact in this sermon: the fourth stage of sin requires the sacrament of reconciliation, the real presence of God. He needs to be absolved by a priest so that a man can walk and move again. Sermon 107 (PL 38, 627-32) On the words of the gospel Lk. 12:13-21 Date between 411 and 420 From the beginning the preacher of Hippo stretches out the audience’s mind towards hope in God’s promises. While on the journey, we are given the command by Lord abstinete ab omni avaritia (Lk. 12:15). He continues clarifying this command by explaining the story of two brothers and their attitude to

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their inheritance. The brother who came to Jesus for support was given some advice, Ego dico vobis, cavete ab omni cupiditate (§3). Augustine shows that even though we think we are in the right if we claim something which belongs to us, Jesus, on the contrary, volebat illum facere aliquid plus quam est homo (§2). Hoc est, ab omni (§3). To be someone who is without avarice. It also means not to wrongfully cling to something we acquire otherwise we can be manipulated to do wicked things. Caveamus ab omni avaritia, si volumus frui aeterna sapientia (§9). Two points are frequently stated in Augustine’s sermons. When he speaks about concupiscentia he also emphasizes the power of Christ and God’s desire to lift us up. In sermon 252/A (s. Wilm. 13) he preaches about the tenth commandment: Sed legem quis implet sine adiutorio? Prorsus nemo (§6). But he immediately cites ut promissio ex fide Iesu Christi daretur credentibus (Gal. 3:22). Augustine seeks to explain the meaning behind the words by expressing a strong recommendation: Non concupiscas: noli transire ante villam alienam, et suspirare, quia bona est. Rem proximi tui non concupiscas (§6). He strengthens their faith and heart by quoting the bible to depict the beauty of the Lord: Domini est terra et plenitudo eius (Ps. 23:1).

Desiderium in Augustine’s sermons 99, 104, 105, 255 The term desiderium is used with various meanings in Augustine sermons: desiderium carnis, desiderium oculorum and desiderium meliora. However, we will comment only on desiderium meliora as we have already analysed it for our purposes above. Sermon 99 (PL 38, 595-602) On the words of the gospel Lk. 7:36-50 Date 411 or 412 While retelling the comparison of the two debtors from Lk. 7:36-50 Augustine explains Jesus’ desire to cure both a sinner and also a Pharisee and continues clarifying that Sitio means Desidero fidem tuam (§3), because by confessing the personal faith we are saved as we can read in the gospel. First, there is the desire of God for his people which opens their senses to desire either to invite him into their house or to touch his feet. Augustine explains that God approaches people in different ways, but He requires from everyone the cognition of being a debtor. Through God’s desiring, a woman recognises her real situation and her faith allowed her to see in Jesus someone who forgives sins as she understood that Christum non hominem tantum (§7). Unlike the Pharisee who shows little love as he does not see that gubernante Deo pauca commisit (§6).

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Sermon 255 (PL 38, 1186-90) During the Easter season on Alleluia Date 410 Singing Alleluia transfers us before God because by praising God together, we encourage each other to perceive and continue our journey home without any qualm. The quality of our praising depends on our lives. Eum tantum homo securus laudat, qui non habet unde displiceat (§1). He emphasized that we are travellers on our way home and clarifies why it is essential to praise God. At first, he explains the example of Mary and Martha that there are certain things which are necessary to be done, the model of Martha, unlike Mary who chooses for herself what appeases the desire and lusts. Augustine distinguishes between desire – hunger which cannot be satisfied in this life while on the road, and happiness – the fulfilment of desire when we achieve the goal. Sitimus, esurimus, opus est ut satiemur: sed in via fames, in patria satietas (§5). He asks a question: what does someone who praises God get besides good health the priceless gift which is given to everyone even to animals? The sons of men who praise God have hope that God lactat nos, nutrit nos, confirmat nos (§5) and, as Augustine proclaim the fundamental message of good news: ‘we are saved’ (Rom. 8:24). Thus, he relates the state of real health to immortality because quia sanitas nostra immortalitas est (§8). The saint preacher takes his mission with great concern and leads his audience to distinguish desire which can hinder them on the way home. He endeavours to stir up his listeners to yearn for eternal life and encouraged them not to set their ambitions on things which can cloud true cognition. The preacher of Hippo through the sermons leads his audience to the reality where we see the glory of God because et in uno ipso fruemur (Sermo 255, §7).

Conclusion We have investigated the journey of Augustine’s conversion through the prism of desire and the steps releasing him from cupiditas which forestall him to see the Imago Dei in himself. Augustine at the age of thirty realises that it has been too long for him any further postponing the discovery for wisdom that he had first sensed at the age of nineteen. There were three hindrances on the way to perceive it: his ambition, avarice and sexual desire – a habit of bodily pleasure. The impact of God’s grace was that he did not find pleasure in what was not the Lord. What made him proud, sure and happy was taken from him. However, he was considerably worried about not to experience the woman’s embrace anymore. This idea hindered him from giving up himself wholly to the Lord. Only after being deprived of his certainties and ashamed by ‘the two uneducated men who captured the heaven’, he surrendered.

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Augustine speaks to us even nowadays, therefore, we wanted to present his experience as a paradigm for our journey from the anxiety of a foreigner to the happiness of a pilgrim who desires the beata vita. If our senses are distorted, we want to possess something or someone and in consequence of it, we are moving away from perceiving the Imago Dei in us. To discern the subtle voice leading us to the source of our longing demands a moment of the dead-end in which a person is utiliter concutiuntur.32 This opportune moment of encounter par excellence directs a soul to real happiness in God. In the mystical body of the Church, we go together, we pray together, and Augustine emphasises this in his sermons as we have discussed them above. He reflects his profound experience with God ‘who has called him out of darkness into his marvellous light’33 and strives to share this fact with others so that they also can see God’s great love for them.34 We can presume that this is the way how to endure the tension between desiring the world and desiring God.

32 Canones et decreta Sacrosancti Oecumenici Concilii Tridentini: sub Paulo III., Iulio III. et Pio IV. Pontificibus Maximis; cum additamentis et indicibus ad Conc. Trident. spectantibus; cum permissu Reverendissimi Ordinariatus Archiepoiscopalis Bambergensis (Mainz, 1866), 25. 33 1Pet. 2:9. 34 Eph. 2:4.

From the Homiletic to the Lyric: Transformations of Genre in Augustine’s Confessiones 9 Rachel K. TEUBNER, Australian Catholic University, Melbourne, Australia

ABSTRACT Does the embedding of the psalmic voice within a quasi-biographical account constitute a transformation from the homiletic to the lyric? In recent years, scholars have often reflected on the multivocal quality of Augustine’s homiletic corpus, particularly in his Enarrationes in Psalmos. Augustine’s Confessiones have been implicated in these efforts (e.g., Williams [2004; see n. 2]; Cameron [2012; see n. 2]; Rigby [2015; see n. 2]). But does this assimilation of the voices of the Enarrationes and Confessiones obscure an important difference of genre between Augustine’s preaching and his sui generis autobiographical work? This short article will probe this generic difference through a close reading of Augustine’s appeals to Ps. 4 in Confessiones 9.4.8-11, as compared with his treatment of Ps. 4 in Enarrationes in Psalmos. Developing Erich Auerbach’s analyses of Augustine’s rhetorical style in Mimesis and ‘Sermo Humilis’, I shall argue that Augustine’s use of the Psalms in his Confessiones constitutes a departure from the homiletic to the lyric, understood as genre rather than as discourse. Whereas prosopological exegeses tend to emphasize the theological unity of persons in Augustine’s reflections on the Psalms – the unity of the individual, the church and the person of Christ – Augustine’s appeals to the Psalms in Confessiones dwell on what is quixotic and spontaneous in the drama of human life. This comparative analysis yields insights not only into the distinctive genre of Confessiones, but into the different functions of the Psalms in capturing the experiences of shifting desire and adversity of circumstance on the way to salvation.

In recent years, scholars have reflected on the multivocal quality of Augustine’s homiletic corpus, particularly in his Enarrationes in Psalmos. These scholars typically read Augustine as engaged in proposological exegesis, asking who is speaking in a given text.1 The conclusion has often been that Augustine’s responses to the psalms consistently draw together the individual, the church and the person of Christ in theological and ecclesial unity.2 Augustine’s Confessiones 1 See Matthew W. Bates, The Hermeneutics of the Apostolic Proclamation: The Center of Paul’s Method of Scriptural Interpretation (Waco, 2012), 183-222. As described by Bates, prosopological exegesis ‘explains a text by suggesting that the author of the text identified various persons or characters (prosopa) as speakers or addressees in a pre-text, even though it is not clear from the pre-text itself that such persons are in view’ (183). 2 See Rowan Williams, ‘Augustine and the Psalms’, Interpretation 58 (2004), 17-27, 18-9; Michael Cameron, Christ Meets Me Everywhere (Oxford, 2012), 165-211, 178-86; and Paul

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 157-163. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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are frequently implicated in these efforts. Yet Confessiones also departs on occasion from both the concerns and the tone of the Enarrationes: whereas the emphasis on the unity of persons in the expositions manifests a broad concern for community, Augustine’s response to the Psalms in Confessiones is often marked by the individual experience of quixotic events, changing affections and spontaneous emotion. In this article I want to query this assimilation of Augustine’s authorial voices in the Enarrationes and the Confessiones by discussing some of the differences between the two texts, differences that are themselves reflections and features of their respective genres. Using the admittedly incomplete categories of the ‘homiletic’ and the ‘lyric’, I shall probe differences of genre between Augustine’s preaching and the sui generis autobiographical Confessiones – differences that become particularly apparent when we compare the role of the psalms in these two texts. By ‘homiletic’, I mean that the style of the exposition is marked by an interest in the meaning of the psalm for the church, and by the use of the first person plural, which refers authoritatively to community rather than to individual experience. By ‘lyric’, I mean that when Augustine discusses the Psalms in Confessiones, his style is marked by an interest in personal experience; by private emotion; and by the intimacy and immediacy of the first person singular.3 This comparison is partly inspired by the writings of Erich Auerbach, in which Augustine’s work is positioned as, on the one hand, faithful to the rules of classical rhetoric and, on the other, inaugurating a new form of Christian discourse that transcended the classical division of genres. In De doctrina christiana, for instance, Augustine assumes that, following Cicero’s division of styles, classical rhetoric had to be used in sermons.4 Auerbach is also attentive, however, to Augustine’s turn to a ‘lowly style’ for the communication of the profound mysteries of the Christian faith, imitating the Christ-paradox and the

Rigby, The Theology of Augustine’s Confessions (Cambridge, 2015), 73-92. For Williams, clues for interpreting Augustine are drawn from the Enarrationes in Psalmos, where ‘the psalms represent the unifying of the divine and the human voice in Christ’. The central passage for Williams is in the exposition of Ps. 140, paraphrased as: ‘how can we understand words that imply alienation from God when they occur on the lips of Jesus? Only by reading them as spoken by the whole Christ, that is Christ with all the members of his body. He speaks for us, makes his own the protesting or troubled cry of the human being, so that his own proper and perfect prayer to the Father may become ours’. Cameron’s work foregrounds Christ’s ‘hidden presence’ as Augustine discerned it, through the device of prosopopeia in the Psalter and through deploying prosopopoeia in his Errationes in Psalmos and in Confessiones. Rigby’s Ricoeurian reading of Confessions emphasizes its status as ‘confessional narrative’, a status that enables readers to interpret their own lives as patterned on Christ’s life. 3 See P. Rigby, Theology of Augustine’s Confessions (2015), 6-33. Rigby employs the category of ‘lyric’ as both a kind of discourse and, more broadly, as a description of the effusive inward life recorded in Confessions. 4 See Augustine of Hippo, De doctrina christiana 4.17(24) – (20)34.

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profound reversals of the incarnate Word.5 As Auerbach observes, Augustine recognized that wherever we speak of salvation and the things that lead us to beatitude, whomever we are addressing, those things – Matthew’s ‘cup of cold water’, in Augustine’s example – become sublime. The biblical form of parataxis that Auerbach noticed in Augustine’s story of Alypius is conspicuous in the psalms, as Auerbach was aware.6 But what Auerbach, and others attending to prosopological action and ‘unity’ in Augustine’s writings perhaps overlook is the distinctive role of the psalms. For in the psalms Augustine seems to find something that is distinct from the language of preaching: he finds a lyric language that both expresses and forms the new emotions and affections of faith. For the sake of comparison, then, I offer a reading of Augustine’s appeals to Ps. 4 in Confessiones 9.4.8-11, as compared with his treatment of Ps. 4 in Enarrationes in Psalmos. This comparative analysis yields insights not only into the distinctive genre of Confessiones, but into the different functions of the psalms in capturing the experiences of desire and adversity on the way to salvation. In reflecting on the psalms in Confessiones, I theorize, Augustine seems to find something in the psalms other than a language for preaching: he finds a lyric, first-person language for the new life of faith, a language that gives voice to new occasions for despair and, of course, many new joys.7 In a moment I will turn to give some sustained attention to the later, lyric treatment of Ps. 4 that we find in Confessiones 9. But let me start by making a few observations about the earlier, homiletic treatment of Psalm 4 in the exposition. 5 See Erich Auerbach, ‘Sermo Humilis’, in Literary Language and its Public in Late Antiquity and in the Middle Ages, trans. Ralph Manheim (Princeton, 1993; first published as Literatursprache und Publikum in der lateinischen Spätantike und im Mittelalter [Bern, 1958]), 27-66, 36-7. ‘In the Christian context humble everyday things, money matters or a cup of cold water, lose their baseness and become compatible with the lowly style; and conversely, as is made clear in Augustine’s subsequent remarks, the highest mysteries of the faith may be set forth in the simple words of the lowly style which everyone can understand’. The argument of ‘Sermo humilis’ was outlined in two earlier articles, ‘Sacrae scripturae sermo humilis’ (1944) and ‘Sermo humilis’ (1952), as Jan Ziolkowski notes in his foreword to the same volume; and similar concerns are a driving force in the argument of Dante, Poet of the Secular World (1929), ‘Figura’ (1938) and several chapters in Mimesis (1945). See Dante, Poet of the Secular World, trans. Ralph Manheim, New York Review Book Classics (New York, 2001); ‘Figura’, in Time, History and Literature: selected essays of Erich Auerbach, ed. James I. Porter, trans. Jane O. Newman (Princeton, 2014), 65-113, and Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature (Princeton, 2013), ‘The Arrest of Peter Valvomeres’, 50-76, ‘Adam and Eve’, 143-73, and ‘Farinata and Cavalcante’, 174-202. 6 See Augustine, De doctrina christiana 4.18(37); see E. Auerbach, Mimesis (2013), 70-2. 7 See Kevin Grove, CSC, ‘Transfiguring Speech: Prayer and the Psalms’, in John C. McDowell and Ashley Cocksworth (eds), The T&T Clark Companion to Christian Prayer (London, forthcoming). Confessiones, Grove observes, offers us ‘one of the most enduring examples of a life refashioned and sustained by psalmody’; and in the process of this refashioning, it is in particular the language of psalmody that Augustine and the Christian community growing around him are learning to speak. See also K. Grove, ‘“The word spoke in our words that we might speak in his”: Augustine, the Psalms and the poetry of the incarnate Word’, in M. Burrows, J. Ward and M. Grzegorzewska (eds), Poetic Revelations: The Power of the Word (London, 2017), 29-42, 40, on the role of the Psalms in moving Augustine – and us – to ‘a speech of the heart that is beyond words’.

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1. Psalm 4 in the Enarrationes (ca. 391)8 The exposition takes what is essentially the first opportunity to interpret the Psalm Christologically: here Augustine associates the first words of the superscript, in finem, ‘to the end’, with Rom. 10, where Christ is declared to be ‘the end of the law’. The purpose of this exposition, he tells us, is to prepare us for the words of Christ and of the Church after the resurrection.9 The orientation of this opening is explicitly eschatological. We find an example of Augustine’s prosopological approach in the next paragraph: the change from first to second person, from ‘God heard me’ to ‘You led me into [spacious] freedom’, prompts Augustine to suggest that Christ is both speaking to and on behalf of the individual soul and of the church. This is early-church prosopological exegesis in its classic form: we move easily from the individual to the universal, setting aside for the moment the lyric immediacy of the Psalm text. The eschatological theme of the exposition continues in Augustine’s reflections on verse 2, which he treats as a comment on human delusions that will persist until the final resurrection.10 Finally, in the exposition, Augustine consistently emphasizes the future reception of God’s gifts: for instance, in verses 6-8 of the Psalm, ‘the light of God’s face’, ‘gladness’, ‘grain and wine’, sleep and repose. These gifts, he says, ‘are not within our grasp at present, in this life. It is something to be hoped for after this life’ – in other words, something to be received in the last days by the entire community of the blessed.11 Augustine’s homiletic exposition of Ps. 4, if I may generalize, is eschatological, universal, and communal.

2. A new community of faith: the context of Confessiones 9 (ca. 396-400) I want to move now into Confessiones 9, where we find a particularly vibrant and sustained example of Augustine appealing to a single Psalm. These reflections occur at a richly communal moment in the narrative: Augustine is part of an expanding circle of baby Christians, the newly converted and baptized.

8 See Michael Fiedrowicz, ‘General Introduction’, in Expositions of the Psalms 1-32, The Works of St Augustine: A Translation for the 21st Century 52.15 (Hyde Park, 2000), 14-5, on the dating of the Confessiones, and Michael Cameron, ‘Enarrationes’, in Augustine Through the Ages: An Encyclopedia, ed. A. Fitzgerald, OSA (Grand Rapids, 1999), 290-306, for overviews of the chronological issues attending the Enarrationes. 9 See Augustine of Hippo, Enarrationes in Psalmos I-L, ed. J. Fraipont and E. Dekkers, CChr.SL 38 (Turnhout, 1956), and Augustine of Hippo, Expositions of the Psalms, translated by Maria Boulding, Works of St. Augustine 52.15 (2000), en. Ps. 4.1, trans. Boulding, 85. 10 En. Ps. 4.1-2, trans. Boulding, 85-6. 11 En. Ps. 4.6-8, trans. Boulding, 88-91.

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In book 8 we hear the story of Victorinus,12 followed by Augustine’s own conversion event in the garden at Milan,13 itself followed by the conversions of Augustine’s friends Alypius,14 Verecundus and Nebridius.15 This is by no means a life of solitude; on the contrary, he converts in the context of a community that is turning to a new life in Christ, member by member, many of them converts from the teachings of the Manichees. His quiet retirement from the ‘markets of rhetoric’ is carried out with the knowledge of members of this ‘intimate circle’;16 events are reported in the first person plural.17 The conversions are narrated by way of examples of others pursuing the life of faith and of questions about philosophy, wisdom and faith that the friends offer to each other.18 Yet when Augustine begins to reflect on the fourth Psalm, the text turns suddenly and dramatically inward. By his account, in reading Ps. 4 Augustine discovers a private emotional language that shapes and gives voice to his newfound faith. And as he dwells on the inward experience of faith, he expresses frustration that he cannot represent it to the Manichees. In striking contrast to the homiletic style of the exposition, Augustine’s appeal to Psalm 4 in Confessiones leads him to discover something other than a public or community-oriented language for preaching: here he finds a lyric language that both expresses and forms the new emotions and affections of faith.

3. Psalm 4 in Confessiones 9.4.8-11 The passage begins with a strikingly interior comment: ‘My God, how I cried to you when I read the psalms of David…’ This is an unapologetically emotional beginning. In contrast to the books and dialogues belonging to the Cassiciacum period, which Augustine characterizes as ‘the spirit of the school of pride’, the Psalms, he tell us, ‘allow no pride of spirit to enter in’. ‘How I cried’, Augustine repeats, ‘in those psalms, and how they kindled my love for you’. Just as Augustine ‘recognized’ himself in Anthony’s conversion and in Rom. 13, now he seems to find a voice in the Psalms.19 There seems to be 12

Conf. 8.2.3-4. Ibid. 8.8.19-8.12.29. 14 Ibid. 8.12.30. 15 Ibid. 9.3.5-6. 16 See Augustine of Hippo, Confessiones, ed. M. Skutella, Teubner (Berlin, 2009), 9.2.2, and Augustine of Hippo, Confessions, trans. Henry Chadwick (Oxford, 1991), 155-6. 17 In describing these friends’ extended stay in Cassiciacum with Verecundus, for example: ‘Most generously he offered us hospitality at his expense for as long as we were there…’ (conf. 9.3.6, trans. Chadwick, 158). 18 See conf. 9.2.2-3, 9.3.5-6, 9.4.7. 19 Ibid. 8.12.29, trans. Chadwick, 153. 13

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little point now in exposition, or in reciting them ‘in protest against the pride of the human race’;20 it is enough for the moment, Augustine indicates, to read the Psalms, to cry with them and in them. The Psalms are formative; they curtail pride and they kindle holy love. Their effect is universal: ‘they are being sung in all the world and “there is none who can hide himself from your heat”.21 Yet this theological point seems to be subordinated to the drama of Augustine’s shifting affections: enthusiasm for God, and then bitter anger against the Manichees, followed by pity for them because of their ignorance and hostility. Ps. 4, in particular, does something to Augustine that his own words could not have communicated to the Manichees. We find in this opening little trace of the homiletic: instead, the psalm establishes intimacy, as though inviting a direct communication with God: ‘When I called upon you, you heard me, God of my righteousness … Have mercy on me, Lord, and hear my prayer’. Ps. 4, it seems, allows Augustine to express ‘the most intimate feeling of my mind with myself and to myself’, a feeling too intimate to be expressed to the Manichees.22 Augustine’s lyric tone becomes only more emotive as he reads on: ‘I trembled with fear and at the same time burned with hope and exultation at your mercy … All these emotions exuded from my eyes and my voice’. Increasingly, Augustine seems to identify with the psalmist. After quoting Ps. 4.3, he inserts himself into its first person: ‘For I had loved vanity and sought after a lie’; God had already ‘magnified your holy one’, but ‘I did not know it … I, so long in ignorance, loved vanity and sought after a lie’.23 Both the Psalm and the self-ascription are repeated in this paragraph, in close succession; the love of vanity and the pursuit of lies seem to be items of special, autobiographical importance, allowing Augustine to recognize his own sin in the confessions of the psalmist. Here, as in the exposition, sanctum suum is interpreted Christologically: God’s ‘holy one’ has come, has been raised from the dead. But in the Confessiones passage, Christ’s coming serves particularly as a reminder of Augustine’s former life, which he again characterizes as ‘vanity and deceit’, using the language of the Psalm. And yet when he thinks of those who still ‘love vanity and seek after a lie’, Augustine remains primarily occupied with his own limitations. He wishes that he could have been heard by them, and yet claims that his own words would have been worthless: their help is not in his preaching, but seems rather to belong to their own contact with God. And as the Psalm declares, God will hear them when they cry out.24 20 21 22 23 24

Ibid. 9.4.7-8, trans. Chadwick, 159-60. En. Ps. 18.7. En. Ps. 4.2. En. Ps. 4.2-3; conf. 9.4.9, trans. Chadwick, 160-1. En. Ps. 4.4.

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The Manichees remain a source of frustration: Augustine remains, he tells us, ‘sick with disgust’.25 But toward the end of this passage Augustine moves increasingly into inward meditation: in the place of anger, he says, ‘within my chamber where I felt the pang of penitence … there you began to be my delight, and you gave ‘gladness in my heart’.26 Again, he cries aloud as the Psalm allows him to ‘acknowledge inwardly what [he] has read in external words’: the ‘earthly goods’, the ‘corn and wine and oil’ that he longed for in the past have been replaced with a new kind of ‘corn and wine and oil’.27 Augustine’s reading of the fourth psalm draws to a conclusion with one final cry from the bottom of his heart: the Psalm’s final lines promise rest and affirm that God is unchanging.28 Theologically speaking, Augustine’s reading of the Psalm is congruent with his earlier reflections on the unity of Christ, the individual and the church. But here Augustine seems to give up on the homiletic impulse, at least for the moment: ‘I did not discover what to do for the deaf and dead of whom I had been one’. Instead, he emphasizes how Ps. 4 affects him, ‘sets him on fire’.29 4. Conclusion Whereas the earlier, homiletic exposition of Ps. 4 is eschatological, universal and communitarian in its concerns, this ‘lyric’ exposition is immediate, individual, and emotionally expressive. The lyrical first-person of Ps. 4 seems to offers Augustine a way to respond affectively and Christianly to his new experiences of the shifting desires and frustrations of faith. And it may be instructive to notice what Augustine does with the Psalms in the Confessiones after he had preached on them, and to ask why he makes this turn from the homiletic to the lyric. In our current moment, we often want to read Augustine in the most purely communitarian and pastoral light. But if Augustine has, in the late 390s, a touch of the lyric poet, we might wish to consider what sort of wider role Augustine might have envisioned for the Psalms in the life of the Christian.

25 26 27 28 29

Conf. Conf. Conf. Conf. Conf.

9.4.11, 9.4.10, 9.4.10, 9.4.11, 9.4.11,

trans. trans. trans. trans. trans.

Chadwick, Chadwick, Chadwick, Chadwick, Chadwick,

162; en. Ps. 138.21. 161-2; en. Ps. 4.7. 162; en. Ps. 4.10. 162; en. Ps. 4.9. 162.

Augustine’s Concept of materia spiritalis: Confessiones XII-XIII Maurizio Filippo DI SILVA, UFPR, Curitiba, Brazil

ABSTRACT The present investigation, structured in three sections, outlines briefly Augustine’s concept of materia spiritalis (Books XII and XIII of his Confessions) by drawing through his interpretation of the term caelum (Gen. 1:1). The first part enquires into his identification of the heaven of heaven with angels (Conf. XII 2.2) and the reflections arising from the absence of a specific mention, in the initial verse of Genesis, of the creation day of the heaven and the earth (Conf. XII 12.15). The purpose here is to show that for Augustine angels are well-formed beings. Next comes a perusal into his ideas concerning God’s creation of formless spiritual matter (Conf. XIII 2.3) and of angels (Conf. XIII 3.4). Here, the objective is to show that for the philosopher angels are not pure forms, but beings composed of matter and form. In the third phase the investigation covers his perspective related to the anteriority of materia spiritalis to form. This final section illustrates his belief of the union between spiritual matter and form (Conf. XIII 10.11), whereby the former precedes the latter not by chronology, but by origin (Conf. XII 29.40). The conclusion allows the exposition of his concept of materia spiritalis while simultaneously demonstrating the consistency and significance of his hermeneutics of the initial verse of Genesis, which he proposes in Books XII and XIII of Confessions.

Introduction The aim of this investigation is to trace Augustine’s concept of spiritual matter as is shown in Books XII and XIII of his Confessions. To this end, we will analyse the hermeneutics of Gen. 1:1 he exposes in the Books above, focussing our attention on his interpretations of the term caelum. This enquiry will be divided into three parts. In the first, we will scrutinize the way he interprets Gen. 1:1 in Confessions XII, defining what he means by ‘heaven of heaven’ and ‘angels’ (XII 2.2) as well as what he believes to be the extratemporal nature of spiritual beings (XII 12.15). Subsequently, we will examine his hermeneutics of the first verse of Genesis exposed in Confessions XIII. We will thus define what he identifies as heaven and a spiritual creation void of form (XIII 2.3), while at the same time illustrating his thinking about materia spiritalis as the material substrate of angels (XIII 3.4). Finally, in light of what he states in Confessions XIII 10.11, we will focus on what characterises the differences in his interpretations

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of the first verse of Genesis under question. The objective will be to interpret his view concerning the relationship of anteriority that binds materia spiritalis to form, so as to obtain a real picture of his concept of spiritual matter. 1. Angels and form As I made plain in the introduction, the careful perusal of Augustine’s concept of spiritual matter requires that we turn our attention to the interpretation of Gen. 1:1 he advances in Confessions XII. More precisely, what we need is to analyse the manner whereby he renders the term ‘heaven’. As is well known, in the theoretical context we are considering Augustine – in order to clarify a hermeneutical problem raised by the Holy Scriptures – focusses on the meaning of the terms ‘heaven’ and ‘earth’ mentioned in the first verse of Genesis. If they indicate the heaven and the earth visible to us, what may explain the subsequent mention of their creation in the biblical text (Gen. 1:7 and Gen. 1:10)? In dealing with this complex issue he applies the following strategy: if there is no error in the Holy Scriptures and if the dual reference does appear in them, this means that the two terms above refer to something other than what they indicate in Gen. 1:7 and Gen. 1:10. In order to discover precisely what they mean Augustine employs clearer biblical passages that may shed light on the darker ones. Thus, on account of Gen. 1:2 he equates the term ‘earth’ in the first verse with the matter of bodies, which has no form.1 Likewise, in light of Psalm 113 he states that the heaven indicated in Gen. 1:1 corresponds not to the one visible to the human eye but to the heaven of heaven: ‘But, where is the heaven of heaven, O Lord, of which we hear in the words of the psalm: “the heaven of heaven is the Lord’s: but the earth He has given to the children of men”? Where is the heaven which we do not see, in relation to which all that we do see is as earth?’.2 The philosopher thus sees the heaven of heaven, which enjoys the constant contemplation of God,3 as coinciding with angels.4 1

See Confessionum libri tredecim XII 4.4 (PL 32): Quid ergo vocaretur, quo etiam sensu tardioribus utcumque insinuaretur, nisi usitato aliquo vocabulo? Quid autem in omnibus mundi partibus reperiri potest propinquius informitati omnimodae quam terra et abyssus? Minus enim speciosa sunt pro suo gradu infimo quam cetera superiora perlucida et luculenta omnia. Cur ergo non accipiam informitatem materiae, quam sine specie feceras, unde speciosum mundum faceres, ita commode hominibus intimatam, ut appellaretur “terra invisibilis et incomposita”? 2 Ibid. XII 2.2 (PL 32): Sed ubi est caelum caeli, Domine, de quo audivimus in voce Psalmi: “Caelum caeli Domino; terram autem dedit filiis hominum”? Ubi est caelum, quod non cernimus, cui terra est hoc omne, quod cernimus? English translation by Vernon J. Bourke, Confessions, The Fathers of the Church 21 (New York, 1953), 368. 3 Ibid. XII 9.9; 11.12-11.13; 15.19-15.22. 4 For Augustine’s interpretation of the caelum caeli expression in Confessiones XII, see Étienne Gilson, Introduction à l’étude de saint Augustin (Paris, 1943), 257; Jean Guitton, Le temps et

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In his opinion, the phrase In principio fecit Deus caelum et terram evidently refers to the creation, in the Word,5 of angels and of the formless matter of bodies. We now need to explain how his opinion concerning the first verse of Genesis makes his concept of materia spiritalis more comprehensible. In order to do so, we should at this point focus on a second hermeneutical problem raised by Gen. 1:1. Having clarified the meaning of ‘heaven’ and ‘earth’ as represented in this verse of the biblical text, he now analyses why no mention is made in the above verse of the creation day of the heaven and the earth. Contending with this issue he remarks that, as matter is totally void of form, it can neither lose it nor acquire it and is not subject to change. In this way it proves to be out of time, although not eternal. As for angels, Augustine affirms that the heaven of heaven does not change, for it lives in the constant contemplation of God. Thus, it turns out to be not temporal, but not eternal either: ‘I find two things which Thou hast made to be without periods of time, though neither is co-eternal with Thee: one is so well formed that, without any failure in the act of contemplation, without any period of change, though mutable, it nonetheless is not changed, but enjoys eternity and immutability; the second was so formless that it was incapable of changing from one form to another, either of motion or of rest, by which it would be subject to time’.6 In his attempt to throw light on this hermeneutical complexity, Augustine obviously provides some important indications concerning the nature of formless matter and of angels. He feels that matter is a completely amorphous – hence, indeterminate – creation, superior only to nothingness. On the contrary, he sees angels as beings that are well-formed (ita formatum) and inferior only to God: ‘Thou wert, and there was nothing else from which Thou didst make heaven and earth – these two, one near to Thee, the other near to nothing; one, in regard to which Thou wert the only higher being; the other, in regard to which nothing was lower’.7 These elements expound even more accurately on his interpretation l’éternité chez Plotin et saint Augustin (Paris, 1933), 139; Jean Pépin, ‘Recherches sur le sens et les origines de l’expression caelum caeli dans le livre XII des Confessions de S. Augustin’, Archivum latinitatis Medii Aevi 33 (1953), 185-274; Jacobus C.M. van Winden, ‘The Early Christian Exegesis of “Heaven and Earth” in Genesis 1,1’, in Willem van der Boer, Pieter G. van der Nat, Christiaan M.J. Sicking and Jacobus C.M. van Winden (eds), Romanitas et Christianitas (Amsterdam, London, 1973), 377-80. 5 See Conf. XI 7.9-9.11. 6 Ibid. XII 12.15 (PL 32): duo reperio, quae fecisti carentia temporibus, cum tibi neutrum coaeternum sit: unum, quod ita formatum est, ut sine ullo defectu contemplationis, sine ullo intervallo mutationis, quamvis mutabile, tamen non mutatum tua aeternitate atque incommutabilitate perfruatur; alterum, quod ita informe erat, ut ex qua forma in quam formam vel motionis vel stationis mutaretur, quo tempori subderetur, non haberet. English translation by Vernon J. Bourke, FC 21, 378. 7 Ibid. XII 7.7 (PL 32): Tu eras et aliud nihil, unde fecisti ‘caelum et terram’, duo quaedam, unum prope te, alterum prope nihil, unum, quo superior tu esses, alterum, quo inferius nihil esset. English translation by Vernon J. Bourke, FC 21, 373.

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of the initial verse of Genesis.8 Based on them, we will now move on to assess if for him the heaven of heaven, as a well-formed creation, corresponds to a pure form, or instead if it consists of a material substrate as well. 2. Angels and spiritual matter In the introduction we underlined that Augustine’s notion of materia spiritalis requires that we reflect on the interpretation of Gen. 1:1 he exposes in Confessions XIII; more precisely, that we analyse his reading of the term ‘heaven’. As we know, in this theoretical context he deems it opportune to start from clarifying why God gave birth to the heaven and the earth. He affirms that God did not create them out of a personal need because if He had He would have proved to be imperfect.9 Likewise, their divine creation was not due to the fact they deserved to exist – indeed, had this been the case they should have pre-existed their very creation, which is absurd. In light of this, Augustine states that God created the heaven and the earth because of His perfect goodness.10 In the next phase of his exposé the philosopher expresses the belief that the creative act described in the above verse of Genesis corresponds to the one of the matter of bodies and of a formless spiritual being: How did corporeal material deserve of Thee, to be even invisible and unorganized, since it would not have been that, unless because Thou didst make it? … Or, how did the inchoative spiritual creation merit from Thee, even to ebb and flow darkly like the abyss, but unlike Thee, unless it were turned by the same Word to the same Being by whom it was made, and, enlightened by Him, could become light – though not as an equal, but still conformed to a form equal to Thee?11

He adds that the Lord did not let spiritual creation remain in a formless state but provided it with form, thus giving birth to angels: ‘Now, what Thou didst say in the first moments of creation: “Be light made, and light was made”, I understand, not inappropriately, in reference to spiritual creation; for it was already life of some sort which Thou mightest illumine … Nor would its formlessness have pleased Thee, unless it became light, not by its act of existing, but by the act of gazing upon the illuminating light and by cleaving to it’.12 8

Ibid. XII 13.16. Ibid. XIII 2.2. 10 Ibid. XIII 2.3. 11 Ibid. XIII 2.3 (PL 32): Quid te promeruit materies corporalis, ut esset saltem “invisibilis et incomposita”, quia neque hoc esset, nisi quia fecisti? … Aut quid te promeruit inchoatio creaturae spiritalis, ut saltem tenebrosa fluitaret similis abysso, tui dissimilis, nisi per idem verbum converteretur ad idem, a quo facta est, atque ab eo illuminata lux fieret, quamvis non aequaliter tamen conformis formae aequali tibi?. English translation by Vernon J. Bourke, FC 21, 409. 12 Ibid. XIII 3.4 (PL 32): Quod autem in primis conditionibus dixisti: “Fiat lux, et facta est lux”, non incongruenter hoc intellego in creatura spiritali, quia erat iam qualiscumque vita, quam 9

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Evidently, the formless spiritual creation may prove to be the possible recipient of form. This point demonstrates how it corresponds to the material substrate of angels, that is to spiritual matter, to which Augustine makes only references in Book XII of Confessions.13 Consequently, his interpretation of the term caelum in Confessions XIII shows that for him angels are not pure forms, but beings composed of both matter and form. At this point, our intent may be to specify what he regards as the relationship between spiritual matter and the form that God impressed when creating the heaven of heaven. If this is so, we should analyse the perspective Augustine devotes to this point in chapter 10.11 of Book XIII of Confessions. This will make it possible to throw some light on the dissimilar interpretations of Gen. 1:1 he presents in Books XII and XIII of Confessions. 3. Spiritual matter and form As for his hermeneutics of the story related in the first verse of Genesis, significant divergences seem to exist between Books XII and XIII of Confessions. In the former, according to him, the term caelum mentioned in that verse refers to angels, that is to well-formed spiritual beings dwelling in the endless contemplation of God. In the latter on the contrary he affirms that the word ‘heaven’ in the same verse hints at the formless spiritual creation the Almighty gave form to, enabling it to direct its contemplation to Himself. In order that the differences in these interpretations be correctly interpreted we should thus analyse what he writes about the creation of heaven in Book XIII of Confessions: Happy the creature who has known nothing else! Though it would have been something else, if, as soon as it was made, without any time interval, it had not been borne upward by Thy Gift which moves over every mutable thing – by that call whereby Thou didst say: ‘Be light made’, and so it became light. For, in us, there is a difference between the time when we belonged to darkness and when we were made light. But, in the case of that creature, it was said what it would have been if it had not been illumined.14 illuminares … Neque enim eius informitas placeret tibi, si non lux fieret non existendo, sed intuendo illuminantem lucem eique cohaerendo. English translation by Vernon J. Bourke, FC 21, 410. 13 Ibid. XII 17.25; 24.33. For Augustine’s concept of materia spiritalis see Arthur H. Armstrong, ‘Spiritual or Intelligible Matter in Plotinus and St. Augustine’, in Augustinus Magister I (Paris, 1954), 277-83; Christian Tornau, ‘Augustinus und die intelligible Materie. Ein Paradoxon griechischer Philosophie in der Genesis-Auslegung der Confessiones’, Würzburger Jahrbücher für die Altertumswissenschaft 34 (2010), 115-50. For Augustine’s concept of matter see Enrico Moro, Il concetto di materia in Agostino (Canterano, 2017). 14 Ibid. XIII 10.11 (PL 32): Beata creatura, quae non novit aliud, cum esset ipsa aliud, nisi dono tuo, quod superfertur super omne mutabile, mox ut facta est attolleretur nullo intervallo temporis in ea vocatione, qua dixisti: “Fiat lux”, et fieret “lux”. In nobis enim distinguitur tempore, quod “tenebrae” fuimus et “lux” efficimur; in illa vero dictum est, quid esset, nisi illuminaretur. English translation by Vernon J. Bourke, FC 21, 416-7.

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As the philosopher’s words reveal, albeit the Holy Scriptures make mention of a formless spiritual creation and of its divine formatio, this should not be understood as a reference to two different states of materia spiritalis. He stresses that in referring to the formlessness of spiritual creation, divine authority simply indicates how this being would have been if God had not fashioned it. Seen from this perspective, the interpretation of Gen. 1:1 Augustine proposes in Confessions XII proves to coincide with the one he expounds on in Book XIII, because in both the creation of caelum corresponds to the creation of a wellformed being.15 Importantly, such remarks prove to be significant not only to clarify the apparent divergence between Augustine’s hermeneutics of Gen. 1:1 in Books XII and XIII of Confessions, but also to indicate the relationship between spiritual matter and form. The philosopher affirms that there was no formless state of materia spiritalis which God subsequently turned into a perfect formatio; from this it ensues that spiritual matter is at no time disjoined from form but is always joined to it. This therefore indicates that materia spiritalis, as the material substrate of angels, precedes form in terms not of chronology, but of origin. In light of the above, we can therefore conclude that for Augustine spiritual matter is a creation which may have no form and yet is endowed with capacitas formarum.16 Spiritual matter, moreover, is closely related to form as sound is to a song: Hence, as I was saying, the material in the act of sounding is prior to the form of the act of singing: not prior as through the power to make it, for sound is not the artificer of the act of singing, but it is supplied as a subject, from the body of the singer, to his soul, as that from which he may make the song. Nor is it prior in time, for it is uttered together with the song. Nor is it prior in choice, for the sound is not preferable to the song, since the song is not only a sound, but also a beautifully formed sound. But, it is prior in origin, because the song is not formed so that the sound may exist; rather, the sound is formed so that the song may exist.17 15 For the debate surrounding Augustine’s interpretation of Gen. 1:1 in Books XII and XIII of Confessiones, see J. Pépin, ‘Recherches sur le sens et les origines de l’expression caelum caeli’ (1953), 198-202; id., ‘Le livre XII des Confessions, ou éxègese et confession’, in Aimé Solignac et al. (eds), Le Confessioni di Agostino d’Ippona. Libri X-XIII (Palermo, 1987), 67-95; id., Ex Platonicorum Persona (Amsterdam, 1977), xvii-xxviii; C. Tornau, ‘Augustinus und die intelligible Materie’ (2010), 144-7; J.C.M. van Winden, ‘The Early Christian Exegesis of “Heaven and Earth” in Genesis 1,1’ (1973), 379-80; id., ‘Once again caelum caeli: Is Augustine’s argument in Confessions consistent?’, Augustiniana 41 (1991), 905-11. 16 For capacitas formarum and the matter of bodies, see Conf. XII 8.8; De natura boni 18. 17 Conf. XII 29.40 (PL 32): Et ideo, sicut dicebam, prior materies sonandi quam forma cantandi: non per faciendi potentiam prior; neque enim sonus est cantandi artifex, sed cantanti animae subiacet ex corpore, de quo cantum faciat; nec tempore prior: simul enim cum cantu editur; nec prior electione; non enim potior sonus quam cantus, quandoquidem cantus est non tantum sonus verum etiam speciosus sonus. Sed prior est origine, quia non cantus formatur, ut sonus sit, sed sonus formatur, ut cantus sit. English translation by Vernon J. Bourke, FC 21, 403-4. For Augustine’s idea of antecedence by origin, see Maria Bettetini, ‘Pensare il nulla, dire la materia: ermeneutica e libertà nel XII libro delle Confessioni’, in Luigi Alici, Remo Piccolomini,

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Conclusion The preceding analysis has made it possible to follow the development of materia spiritalis as a concept that emerges in Books XII and XIII of Augustine’s Confessions. As part of his interpretation of the first verse of Genesis, he describes spiritual matter, first, as something that is formless but totally susceptible of receiving a form. Subsequently, he adds that materia spiritalis has always been joined with the form and therefore does not precede it chronologically, but by origin. Interestingly and specifically, the fact that spiritual matter predates form by origin is what proves to be decisive in clarifying the philosopher’s reading of Gen. 1:1. Indeed, as we have underlined in this analysis, to state that materia spiritalis is always joined with form means to acknowledge that spiritual matter has not passed from an initial state of formlessness to a subsequent state of perfect divine formatio. Thus, if spiritual matter has always been endowed with form, Augustine’s reflection concerning the creation of angels (where he mentions a formless spiritual being) should not be viewed as oscillating between different interpretations of the term caelum in Gen. 1:1. Instead, it should be seen as a clarification relative to the ontological status of angels, who show themselves to be a combination of matter and form and not – simply – pure forms. It should be emphasised that if matter and form are what angels consist of, then materia spiritalis proves to be the material substrate of these creations. Being endowed with such matter angels, though immersed in the contemplation of God, are capable of change. This makes it evident that materia spiritalis, as their material substrate, is at the same time a constitutive component of these beings and the factor that makes their change feasible. The creation of the heaven and the earth corresponds, for Augustine, to the one of angels and of the matter of bodies. If this is true, we can conclude that in bringing such beings into existence God created materia spiritalis and materia corporalis – the one already being perfectly formed, the other still being totally formless.

Antonio Pieretti (eds), Il mistero del male e la libertà possibile: linee di antropologia agostiniana (Roma, 1995), 139-49, 147-8; Jules Chaix-Ruy, ‘La création du monde d’après Augustin’, Revue des Études Augustiniennes 11 (1965), 85-8, 86.

Augustine on Singing* György HEIDL, University of Pécs, Hungary

ABSTRACT The aim of this article is to present Augustine’s conception of singing and its theological background. His early dialogues and the Confessions reveal that during the period of his conversion, Psalms and hymns played a prominent role in Augustine’s spiritual development. At the time of the famous conversion, he silently read St Paul; in Cassiciacum he recited Psalms, and after his Baptism in Milan he sang hymns in church. According to the carefully constructed narrative of the Confessions, Augustine became silent when renouncing his rhetorician’s profession, and then gradually regained his voice while reading the Psalms. However, he did not sing until he became a member of the Church. The narrative is in harmony with how Augustine usually interprets singing hymns, namely that the hymns are praises sung to God in the Church. Unlike others, I do not see a contradiction between Conf. 10.33-50, where Augustine speaks about the priority of words over sounds, and En. Ps. 32.2.8, where he emphasizes the importance of singing songs without words. The former text is concerned with syllabic singing, the latter refers to melismatic one, and neither of them can be understood as spontaneous ‘singing in the bath type song’.

The aim of this article is to present Augustine’s conception of singing and its theological background. We know from his early dialogues and Confessions that in the period of his conversion, that is after his resignation from the rhetorical position, retiring to Cassiciacum, and baptism in Milan, the Psalms and hymns played a crucial role in his spiritual development. I will argue that his attitude toward music was not so ambivalent as is usually interpreted, and that there is a very tight connection between his theological views on singing and the narrative he tells of his own conversion.1 * I am gratefully indebted to the Hungarian National Research, Development and Innovation Office for supporting my research (NKFI-K-128321). 1 A collection of Augustine’s texts on music with brief introductions and further references is found in James McKinnon, Music in Early Christian Literature (Cambridge, 1987), 153-67. An important lecture on the subject was given [Saint Augustine Lecture 2014, Villanova University] and published by Carol Harrison, ‘Getting Carried Away: Why Did Augustine Sing?’ Augustinian Studies 46 (2015), 1-22. Harrison examines why Augustine was ambivalent about singing. She argues that the bishop of Hippo praised spontaneous singing without lyrics over singing with lyrics, because such a chanting of God puts the singer into a paradisiac state of pure praise. My conclusions will be similar in parts, but completely different in the main points. I do not deal with Augustine’s De musica here, because in the work he does not explain the theology of singing.

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When in the 10th Book of the Confessions, Augustine enumerates the bodilysensual temptations and sincerely talks about his own weaknesses, he comes to the ‘pleasures of the ears’. These, he says, used to heavily enthrall and subjugate him, but at the time of writing the Confessions he is freer from them. He finds peace and joy in listening to the words of Scripture sung in a trained and pleasant voice, but sometimes the musicality of the songs affects him so deeply that his attention is distracted from the meaning of the text, and the delight of hearing precedes the understanding. Striving for balance, however, Augustine warns in the next paragraphs about the danger of excessive harshness and caution in regard to singing. He mentions Bishop Athanasius as a good example as one who ‘permitted the reader of the psalm so light an inflection of the voice that he seemed to be proclaiming it rather than singing’.2 The terms ‘proclaiming’ and ‘light inflection’ refer to the fact that the reader follows exactly the number of syllables of the lyrics, while each syllable having one sound. In this case the singer sings syllabically, as opposed to melismatic singing, when one syllable is sung in different sounds in a melodic line. Such an expectation appears almost inevitably in different periods of European music history, when critics believe that the inflection of a tune obscures the meaning of the text, whereas the text must take precedence over the melody. We encounter this phenomenon, for example, in the so-called new-music controversy in fifth-century Athens, in the case of the sequences in ninth-century St. Gallen, and in the instructions for church music from the Council of Trent.3 Augustine finally admits that in his own experience ecclesiastical songs sung with a clear and proper melody purify the soul and awaken devotion (pietas).4 In the first five books he analyzes poetic metrics, and only in the last book does he elaborate on theological teaching of music in general, the analysis of which would distort the scope of the present study. On Augustine’s interpretation of jubilus, see Sarah Stewart-Kroeker, ‘A Wordless Cry of Jubilation: Joy and the Ordering of the Emotions’, Augustinian Studies 50 (2019), 65-86; Selene Zorzi, ‘Dire l’ineffabile: lo iubilus secondo Agostino d’Ippona’, Eastern Theological Journal 4 (2018), 191-216. 2 Conf. 10.33.50. Trans. by Maria Boulding, The Works of Saint Augustine (hereafter WSA) I/1, 270. 3 See the critiques of Aristophanes and others against the musicians of 430s BC who use inflections for sake of inflections (kamptein). On this see András Kárpáti, Múzsák ellenfényben. A régi görög újzene: vázakép, popkultúra, politika [Muses in backlight. The Ancient Greek new music: vase image, pop culture, politics] (Budapest, 2014), 23, 26, 32-4, 43. See also the admonition of Iso to his pupil, Notker the Sammerer in the 880s AD to compose syllabic sequences, Libri Ymnorum. Praefatio. When the Council of Trent unified the liturgy in the 16th century and virtually completed the development of Gregorian chant, the primacy of the text was emphasized over the melody. According to Felice Anerio and Francesco Suriano, the experts commissioned by the Council, melismas obscure the text, and therefore, they only accepted short melismas used on long and accented syllables. See Dobszay László, A gregorián ének kézikönyve [Handbook of Gregorian chant] (Budapest, 1993), 71-2. 4 ‘Without pretending to give a definitive opinion I am more inclined to approve the custom of singing in church, to the end that through the pleasures of the ear a weaker mind may rise up to loving devotion. Nonetheless when in my own case it happens that the singing has a more powerful effect on me than the sense of what is sung, I confess my sin and my need of repentance, and then I would rather not hear any singer’. Conf. 10.33.50, trans. M. Boulding, WSA I/1, 270.

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This hesitant acceptance seems to contradict the encouragement he gives to singing when commenting on the verse: ‘Sing unto him a new song, sing to him skillfully, sing to him in jubilation’ (Ps. 33:3). Do not go seeking lyrics, as though you could spell out in words anything that will give God pleasure. Sing to him in jubilation. This is what acceptable singing to God means: to sing jubilantly. But what is that? It is to grasp the fact that what is sung in the heart cannot be articulated in words. Think of people who sing at harvest time, or in the vineyard, or at any work that goes with a swing. They begin by caroling their joy in words, but after a while they seem to be so full of gladness that they find words no longer adequate to express it, so they abandon distinct syllables and words, and resort to a single cry of jubilant happiness. Jubilation is a shout of joy; it indicates that the heart is bringing forth what defies speech. To whom, then, is this jubilation more fittingly offered than to God who surpasses all utterance? You cannot speak of him because he transcends our speech; and if you cannot speak of him, yet may not remain silent, what else can you do but cry out in jubilation, so that your heart may tell its joy without words, and the unbounded rush of gladness not be cramped by syllables?5

Unlike others, I do not see a real contradiction between Conf. 10.33-50, where Augustine speaks about the priority of words over sounds, and En. Ps. 32.2.8, where he emphasizes the importance of singing songs without words. The former text is concerned with syllabic singing, while the latter refers to melismatic singing, and neither of these is to be understood as spontaneous ‘singing in the bath type song’, which would bring the singer closer to a joyful spiritual state.6 According to the Confessions, while listening to the charmingly sounding syllabic songs, Augustine sometimes found himself focusing not on the meaning of the text, the ‘sung thing’, but on the ear-caressing melody, which he considered a mistake. In the case of jubilation, however, pure melismatic singing does not threaten the listener and singer with this danger, because there is no text, no ‘sung thing’. In this case the activity of singing is the jubilation itself. Self-forgetting, individual (‘bathroom’) singing is not an appropriate example of this joyful chanting, because Augustine specifically speaks about common singing, and the analogues are all communal songs. Harvesters and reapers work together and sing the lyrics first, then their joy turns into jubilation when they break away from the lyrics and sing the pure melody. As Augustine testifies to, there were such songs in the Church when the faithful sang together the same melody (melos) without words. There is no mention of spontaneous improvisation or instinctive singing. Therefore, I would not rule out the possibility that this text may include a reference to an early liturgical practice of jubilus.7 5

En. Ps. 32.2.8, trans. M. Boulding, WSA III/15, 400-1. I cannot agree with the conclusion that ‘one might therefore argue that singing in the bath type song brings us as close as we can hope to come in this life to both paradise and to the eternal communion of saints’, C. Harrison, ‘Getting Carried Away’ (2015), 20. 7 This runs counter to the interpretation of J. McKinnon, who considers it crucial that the text does not refer to Alleluia and that the jubilus here is essentially a kind of work song, see his 6

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As far as involuntary exultation is concerned, an example is found in the last book of De civitate Dei. Paulus and Palladia, the Cappadocian siblings were miraculously healed from a kind of jerky illness evoked an instinctive and deafening exultation among the eyewitnesses.8 Augustine also witnessed the event. In his narrative no musical terms appear, because he does not consider the hubbub (sonitus) of spontaneous joy to be a musical expression. The cheerful melismatic singing totally differs from such a cacophony. Melismatic singing begins with the suspension of the syllabic song at one point when the melody unleashes from the syllables, the words and the meaningful lyrics. Singers take this step together, and consequently, they sing the same melody, as there is no polyphony at that time. It is hard not to think of the melodies of the Gregorian Alleluia.9 Although the word ‘Alleluia’ does not occur in the text, the description may refer to part of liturgical singing when the community changes from syllabic to melismatic caroling. The highly important but often misunderstood source text does not intend to illuminate the origin of the jubilus with the example of the work-songs, but with the psychology of jubilation. Nor does the text adequately support the popular theory which finds the source of the jubilus in the work-songs or the shouts of shepherds, sailors or soldiers. Augustine speaks of common melismatic singing associated with psalms, the antecedents of which are more to be found in the liturgy of the synagogue than anywhere else. Augustine explains the importance of jubilation with the principle of negative theology.10 God is unspeakable. Nevertheless, God who ‘surpasses all utterance’ can be praised with or without words. The emphasis is put on joyous praise. God wants man to praise Him, but not because of some ‘selfish arrogance’, but because it makes him joyous. The Holy Spirit compels persons to pray and praise God, thereby bringing them into the divine community of love. Augustine considers this insight so important that he defines the hymn as praise sung to God.11 After his conversion, Augustine retreated to Cassiciacum. It happened that Licentius sang a psalm, more precisely Psalm 79:8, in the latrine, which ‘Christian Antiquity’, in James McKinnon (ed.), Man and Music. Antiquity and the Middle Ages: From Ancient Greece to the 15th century (London, 1990), 78-9. He took the same position when editing his cited textbook (Music in Early Christian Literature [1987], 156 with further references). In contrast, the wor songs in the text represent merely analogies to certain melismatic singing practices in the Church with which Augustine’s hearers / readers were obviously acquainted, and therefore there was no need to specify it. 8 Civ. Dei 22.8. ‘They exulted in praising God, in shouts without words, a noise so loud (tanto sonitu) that my ears could hardly bear it. And what was in the hearts of these exulting people but the very faith in Christ for which Stephen’s blood had been shed’, trans. William Babcock, WSA I/7, 517. 9 Naturally, the example of Gregorian Alleluia is also mentioned by C. Harrison, ‘Getting Carried Away’ (2015), 19, but she regards the melismatic hymns referred to by Augustine as an improvised melody, which is a highly disputable assumption in itself. 10 En. Ps. 32.2.8. See the citation above. 11 En. Ps. 72.1. Naturally, Psalms are included in the definition, as are Christian hymns composed by Ambrose or another author when one sings them.

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Monica found strongly inappropriate.12 Recalling the Cassiciacum period in the Confessions, Augustine highlights that he himself loudly read David’s Psalms, which contrasts strikingly with his statement that the Psalms are ‘sung all over the world’ (toto orbe cantantur).13 Importantly, at the time of his famous conversion, Augustine silently read (legi in silentio) St Paul;14 in Cassiciacum he recited Psalms (voces dedi cum legerem), and after his Baptism in Milan he sang hymns, as well as the Psalms that ‘sung all over the world’. According to the carefully constructed narrative of the Confessions, Augustine became silent when renouncing his rhetorician’s profession, and then gradually regained his voice while reading the Psalms. However, he did not sing until becoming a member of the Church. What was the role of loud reading of the Psalms? Reading and singing of Psalms is considered a kind of spiritual exercise.15 It assisted Augustine in fulfilling the commandment of Romans 13:13-4 that he read in silence when converted. Reciting the Psalms helped him to free himself from the bonds of bodily desire, the ‘old man’, and put on the ‘new man’, Jesus Christ.16 It taught him to focus his attention, making him gather from the distraction.17 In the meantime, his attention to bodily desires, fantasies, and transient things shifted away from external, temporary things to his inner world and the eternal goods. According to his own admission, Psalm 4 exerted an especially profound, healing effect on him. He wanted the enemies of the Old Testament, his former fellow believers, the Manichees, to see the changes that this psalm had started in him.18 In Cassiciacum, therefore, the reading the psalms out loud was preparation for the true rebirth, the participation in Baptism and Eucharist. Augustine, however, merely recited the Psalms. He sang only after being baptized in Milan. One might think that a narrative as significant as that of the Milanese singing has received so much attention that nothing more can be said about it. However, comparing the original Latin text with its various modern translations delivers a surprise. Of the four Hungarian, ten English, three German and two 12

Ord. 1.8.22. Conf. 9.4.8. voces dedi cum legerem psalmos; voces dabam in psalmis; accendebar eos recitare (‘How loudly I cried out to you my God, as I read the psalms of David, songs full of faith, outbursts of devotion with no room in them for the breath of pride. … How loudly I began to cry out to you in those Psalms, how I was inflamed by them with love for you and fired to recite them to the whole world, were I able, as a remedy against human pride. Yet in truth they are sung throughout the world, and no one can hide from your burning heat [see Ps. 18:7]’), trans. Boulding, WSA I/1, 214-5. 14 Conf. 8.12. arripui, aperui et legi in silentio capitulum. 15 On the role of the Psalms in Augustine’ spirituality, see Jeffrey S. Lehman. ‘“As I read, I was set on fire”: On the Psalms in Augustine’s Confessions’, Logos: A Journal of Catholic Thought and Culture 16 (2013), 160-84. 16 Conf. 8.12.29. 17 Conf. 9.4.10 18 Ibid. He carefully inserted the explanation of Psalm 4 in the narrative of the Confessions, which, of course, shows many overlaps with his commentary on this Psalm in En. Ps. 4.9. 13

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French translations available to me, only one French translation in my view accurately renders the poetic image by which Augustine expresses the impact the songs had on him.19 In fact, most translators have not captured the image of wine boiling in a barrel or wineskin. Et baptizati sumus et fugit a nobis sollicitudo vitae praeteritae. Nec satiabar illis diebus dulcedine mirabili considerare altitudinem consilii tui super salutem generis humani. Quantum flevi in hymnis et canticis tuis, suave sonantis ecclesiae tuae vocibus commotus acriter! Voces illae influebant auribus meis, et eliquabatur veritas in cor meum, et exaestuabat inde affectus pietatis, et currebant lacrimae, et bene mihi erat cum eis.20

The interpretation depends on the translation of four predicates in the main clause: ‘influebant’, ‘eliquabatur’, ‘exaestuabat’, ‘currebant’. Translators usually understand that the sounds of the hymns flowed (‘influebant’) into Augustine’s ear, truth was poured forth or distilled (‘eliquabatur’) into his heart, his emotion or devotion overflowed (‘exaestuebat’), and tears ran (‘currebant’) in his eyes. However, ‘eliquare’ refers to filtration of a liquid or sedimentation (e.g. of dregs of wine), rather than distillation. Further, ‘exaestuare’ does not refer to ‘overflowing’, but rather to the boiling or sparkling of a liquid, especially during fermentation in winemaking.21 Augustine uses the adjective form of this verb in the meaning of purified thought,22 crystallized truth,23 distinction24 or completely true philosophical teaching,25 by which he means Christianity. Therefore, I would translate the passage as follows. ‘How much I cried during your hymns and songs, deeply moved by the sweet sounds of your church! Those voices poured into my ears, and the truth cleared up in my heart [or, the truth infiltrated my heart], and the feeling of devotion boiled in it, and my tears ran, and I felt good’. The metaphor can refer to Jesus’ statement: ‘The new 19 ‘En coulant dans mes oreilles, ils distillaient la vérité dans mon cœur. Un bouillonnement de piété se faisait en moi, les larmes m’échappaient, et cela me faisait du bien de pleurer’, trans. Joseph Trabucco, 1937. 20 Conf. 9.6.14. 21 According to the Oxford Latin Dictionary the primary meaning of exaestuo is ‘to boil, foam or surge up, seethe’, and according to the Forcellini Lexicon totius latinitatis, the Greek equivalent of the Latin word is egkumainō, and Latin synonym is ebullire. It. bollire, Fr. boullionner, Hisp. borbotar, German aufbrausen. English ‘to boil, b. in great ferment, boil over’. 22 Trin. 13.8.11: Deinde quomodo erit vera tam illa perspecta, tam examinata, tam eliquata, tam certa sententia, beatos esse omnes homines velle, si ipsi qui iam beati sunt, beati esse nec nolunt, nec volunt? Sermo 41.6: Ergo, Fratres, quantum mihi videtur, eliquata est ista sententia. 23 De baptismo contra Donatistas 2.4.5: Nec nos ipsi tale aliquid auderemus asserere, nisi universae Ecclesiae concordissima auctoritate firmati; cui et ipse [scil. Cyprianus] sine dubio cederet, si iam illo tempore quaestionis huius veritas eliquata et declarata per plenarium concilium solidaretur. 24 In Sermo 23.11 while explaining Ps. 35:7-8: Eliquata est illa distinctio. Illi pertinent ad homines, homines; isti filii hominum ad filium hominis. 25 Contra academicos 3.19.42: multis quidem saeculis multisque contentionibus, sed tamen eliquata est, ut opinor, una verissimae philosophiae disciplina.

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wine is put into new wineskins’ (Matt. 9:16-7; Mk. 2:21-2; Lk. 5,36-8). In Augustine’s (Pentecostal) sermons the new wineskin refers the new man who does not think of Christ in a carnal way but is strengthened in the faith of the risen and ascended Christ. Such a man is capable of receiving the Holy Spirit.26 At Pentecost, the wineskins [i.e. the Apostles], you see, were filled with new wine. You heard about it when the gospel was read: ‘Nobody puts new wine into old wineskins’ (Mk. 2:22); the carnal person does not receive the things of the Spirit. Being carnal means being old, grace means newness. The more you are renewed for the better, the more you receive what sacks of the truth. The new wine was fermenting, and with the new wine fermenting, the languages of the nations were flowing freely.27

On dawn on April 25, 387, Augustine was baptized in Milan. During the next week, he listened to the mystagogical catechesis explaining the sacraments and the Lord’s Prayer, and he participated in the liturgy as a member of the Milan community. He sang church songs and hymns composed by Ambrose. The sounds of these songs poured into his ear, just as the stum is poured into the barrel in order to be filtered and cleared up. The truth began to be clarified in his soul, and the feeling of devotion (pietas) started to boil. Tears ran in his eyes as the boiling stum poured out on the top of the barrel. This is how the sounds that flowed from outside through his ear turned into tears in his eyes as the result of the interior transformation. The newly baptized Augustine’s hearing and vision were renewed. This was the renewal frequently mentioned during the catechesis of the early Church. The baptized was purified from sin, and his or her bodily perception was reborn as spiritual, and the blurred intellect could at last understand the truth. Due to the restoration of spiritual senses, the baptized was able to recognize the water of the baptismal font as the bath of rebirth, and to see, touch and taste the bread and wine of the Eucharist as the body and blood of Christ. The catechumen was still deaf because he did not understand the meaning of external sounds until the ears of the heart had opened. ‘You are called catechumen’, says the bishop Augustine to the candidates, ‘you are called a hearer, yet you are deaf. Your bodily ear is open because you hear the uttered words, but the ear of your heart is still closed because you do not understand what is said’.28 As for Augustin, not only did his eye open but also his tongue loosened, and he sang together with the Milanese congregation, like ‘the languages of the nations were flowing freely’. Silence, recitation, singing – conversion, preparation, rebirth. Is it possible that Augustine did not read silently in Cassiciacum or did not sing there at all? 26 27 28

S. 272/B augm. Similarly in S. 299/B 3; 272B, Quaestionum Evangeliorum libri 2 2.18. S. 267.2, trans. Hill, WSA III/7, 275. Augustine, S. 132.1. Cf. Cyril of Jerusalem, Procathecesis 6.

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The Confessions is a very carefully edited work in which every single biographical event that Augustine considers worth mentioning has added significance. This is at most a ‘biography’ in theological sense, whose narrator shows through his own story how the old man can be renewed by the newness of grace to transform the self into a true ‘person’ by putting on the person of Jesus Christ. However, there is no reason to question the historical authenticity of the events described. We have seen Augustine’s interpretation of Psalm 33 encouraging Christians who have put off the old man when baptized to sing a new song, the song of love as a wordless melismatic song. This song represents the joyful praise of the unspeakable God in the life of the Christian: ‘It is not the language that should sing the new song but the life’.29 The whole life of the Christian represents the singing of hymn. This must be true if the hymn, as Augustine says, is a praise sung to God, and if the greatest song consists of our good deeds that praise the unspeakable God whom we love. In this sense, human life is like the exulting Alleluia, in which what we say in singing does not matter but what we do. The new life of the baptized thus becomes a chant in its entirety. Yet, Christian joy is not a constant happiness and blissful smile on the face. The new life can be full of pain and suffering, and at the same time it can be a jubilation developing in time. We sing the song of our life until death completes it. We do not know the complete song of the new life until the last sound is also heard. There is no any moment when we could possess the fullness of our lives, and when we might know the song of our lives as the author and creator of that song knows it. He composed it to be a praise of God, in other words, to involve us in their divine community of love.30

29

En. Ps. 32.2.8. ‘Suppose I have to recite a poem I know by heart. Before I begin, my expectation is directed to the whole poem, but once I have begun, whatever I have plucked away from the domain of expectation and tossed behind me to the past becomes the business of my memory, and the vital energy of what I am doing is in tension between the two of them: it strains toward my memory because of the part I have already recited, and to my expectation on account of the part I still have to speak. But my attention is present all the while, for the future is being channeled through it to become the past. As the poem goes on and on, expectation is curtailed and memory prolonged, until expectation is entirely, used up, when the whole completed action has passed into memory. What is true of the poem as a whole is true equally of its individual stanzas and syllables. The same is true of the whole long performance, in which this poem may be a single item. The same happens in the entirety of a person’s life, of which all his actions are parts; and the same in the entire sweep of human history the parts of which are individual human lives’, Conf. 11.28.38, trans. M. Boulding, WSA I/1, 309. See also Ep. 138.5. 30

Living with Happiness in a Troubled World? A Critical Exploration of Augustine’s Reception of Stoic Emotions in De civitate Dei Jimmy CHAN, University of Toronto, Toronto, Canada

ABSTRACT Augustine’s discussion on emotions in De civitate Dei (hereafter DCD) is arguably the most extended one in late Antiquity. There Augustine shows an ambivalent reception of the Stoic theory of the emotions. On one hand, he adopts Stoic terminology for emotions (passio, perturbatio, affectio/affectus, motus). In his arguments, Augustine makes use of the fourfold Stoic categorization of emotions – delight (laetitia), distress (aegritudo),1 desire (libido, cupiditas or appetitus), fear (primarily, metus or timor).2 On the other hand, he rejects the Stoic appreciation of apatheia, and yet approves of their idea of eupatheia. While research exists about Augustine and Stoic emotions, a synergistic exploration of Augustine’s reception of the Stoic ideas of emotions based on textual, contextual and theological analyses, is apparently lacking. This article is thus a pilot project of a critical exploration of Augustine’s theory of emotion and how that ties to his theology of happiness, which will not only show how the ambivalence reveals Augustine’s rhetorical purpose to persuade his readers on his theology of sins and the human soul, but also how Augustine’s rhetoric of emotions is important for his overall argument on happiness and God’s providence. Overall, I intend to show that Augustine, while maintaining that true happiness cannot be attained in this troubled world, asserts that right-ordered emotions are indispensable for one to live with temporal happiness and to seek eternal happiness. In short, then, this paper will demonstrate through several examples of Augustine’s rhetorical strategy on passions and their relationship to virtue and happiness the intricate relationship between emotions and happiness that would shed insights on how Christian can and should live in this troubled world. 1 Cicero, following Stoic arguments, classed grief under the passion of aegritudo (distress), which he described as the most challenging: ‘but aegritudo involves worse things – decay, torture, torment, repulsiveness. It tears and devours the soul and completely destroys it’ (Tusc. Disp. 3.27). There are several related emotions under it, namely, dolor (sorrow), tristia (sadness), maeror (grief) and lutus (mourning). 2 The Stoics produced longer lists of emotions included in these four types (see PseudoAndronicus of Rhodes, Peri Pathôn, ed. Glibert-Thirry, I 1-5; Diogenes Laertius VII 110-4; Stobaeus II 90.7-92.17). The fourfold classification was quoted not only in Augustine’s City of God (XIV 5-9) but also in other well-known works such as Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy (I 7, 25-8), and it was generally known in medieval times. A well-known part of Stoic philosophy is the philosophical therapy of emotions (therapeia) described in works by Cicero, Seneca and Epictetus. See also Sarah Coakley (ed.), Faith, Rationality, and the Passions (Malden, 2012).

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 181-201. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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I. Introduction Augustine’s discussion on emotions in De civitate Dei (hereafter DCD) is arguably the most extended one in late Antiquity. There Augustine shows an ambivalent reception of the Stoic theory of the emotions. On one hand, he adopts Stoic terminology for emotions (passio, perturbatio, affectio/affectus,3 motus).4 (And in his arguments, Augustine makes use of the fourfold Stoic categorization of emotions – delight (laetitia), distress (aegritudo),5 desire (libido, cupiditas or appetitus), fear (primarily, metus or timor).6 On the other hand, he rejects the Stoic appreciation of apatheia, and yet approves of their idea of eupatheia. While research on the subject of Augustine and Stoic emotions certainly exists,7 a synergistic exploration of Augustine’s reception of the Stoic ideas of emotions based on textual, contextual and theological analyses, 3 See, for example, Sara Byers, ‘The Meaning of Voluntas’, Augustinian Studies 37 (2006), 171-89, where she points out that Augustine uses affectio for a quality of the body or the soul (for example, eadem fuerat in utroque corporis et animi affection, DCD 12.6). See also Cicero, Tusculanae disputationes (hereafter TD) 4.29, 4.30, 4.34 and De inventione 1.36, 2.30, wherein affectio is a ‘more or less settled disposition’. 4 Eric Gregory has said that ‘in Augustine’s careful terminology, passions (experienced as disturbances, perturbationes) are always bad, but emotion (usually motus or affectus) like loving, can be good or bad’; John Cavadini, that ‘“passions” if one chooses to use that term, are always bad, while “emotions” can be either bad or good’, and that ‘passions are pathologized versions of these emotions’; Thomas Dixon, that ‘for the generality of affective phenomena Augustine relied on two phrases – motus animae (or ‘movements of the soul’) and passiones animae’; Anastasia Scrutton, that Augustine thinks of passion as ‘a movement of the lower animal soul, which is involuntary in the sense of not in accordance with the will’; in contrast to ‘affect or affection’, which is ‘a movement of the higher, intellective soul, which is voluntary, that is, in accordance with the will’. 5 Cicero, following Stoic arguments, classed grief under the passion of aegritudo (distress), which he described as the most challenging: ‘but aegritudo involves worse things – decay, torture, torment, repulsiveness. It tears and devours the soul and completely destroys it’ (Tusc. disp. 3.27). There are several related emotions under it, namely, dolor (sorrow), tristia (sadness), maeror (grief) and lutus (mourning). 6 The Stoics produced longer lists of particular emotions included in these four types (see Pseudo-Andronicus of Rhodes, Peri Pathôn, ed. Glibert-Thirry, I 1-5; Diogenes Laertius VII 110-4; Stobaeus II 90.7-92.17). The fourfold classification was quoted not only in Augustine’s City of God (XIV 5-9) but also in other well-known works such as Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy (I 7, 25-8, and it was generally known in medieval times. A well-known part of Stoic philosophy is the philosophical therapy of emotions (therapeia) described in works by Cicero, Seneca and Epictetus. See also Sarah Coakley (ed.), Faith, Rationality, and the Passions (Malden, 2012). 7 For example, John Sellars, ‘Augustine and the Stoic Tradition’, in K. Pollmann et al. (eds), The Oxford Guide to the Historical Reception of Augustine, 3 vol. (Oxford, 2013), III 1775-9. And Sarah Catherine Byers, Perception, Sensibility, and Moral Motivation in Augustine. A StoicPlatonic Synthesis (Cambridge, 2012). Byers published a number of papers in this area as well, such as Sarah Byers, ‘The Psychology of Compassion: A Reading of City of God 9.5’, in The Cambridge Critical Guide to the City of God (Cambridge, 2012), and Sarah Byers, ‘Augustine and the Cognitive Cause of Stoic “Preliminary Passions” (Propatheiai)’, Journal of the History

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is apparently lacking. In the longer doctoral project, I have planned to examine two aspects regarding Augustine’s theology of emotion: (1) to show how the ambivalence regarding his reception of emotions reveals Augustine’s rhetorical purpose to persuade his readers on his theology of sins and the human soul, and (2) to explore why Augustine’s exposition of emotions is important for his overall argument on happiness and God’s providence. For the former, textual analysis of Augustine’s use of words for Stoic emotions will be analyzed. For the latter, socio-rhetorical analysis will be used to reveal how Augustine’s extended treatment of emotions is relevant to the ‘sitz-im-leben’ of De civitate Dei. Overall, I intend to show that Augustine, while maintaining that true happiness cannot be attained in this troubled world, asserts that right-ordered emotions are indispensable for one to live with temporal happiness and to seek eternal happiness.

II. Methodology This article demonstrates several examples of Augustine’s rhetorical strategy on passions and their relationship to virtue and happiness as a part of this longer project. First, Augustine never completely abandoned the rhetorical precepts of Cicero, especially the principle he laid out in De Oratore that rhetoric should teach (docere), delight (delectare), and move (movere) its audience.8 To undertake a rhetorical interpretation on Augustine’s of Stoic emotions requires a close reading of his understanding and use of emotions in the context of his audience. First and foremost, though, the word ‘emotion(s)’ does not appear in any of the major English translations of the Bible, or any classical Christian account of passions and affections. Despite modern translators of Walsh and Monahan,9 at various points in their translation of Augustine’s City of God (specifically, DCD 9.4 and 14.9), render passio, affectus/ affectio and motus all as ‘emotions’. Among these, passio translating the Greek word πάθος (pathos) could mean ‘suffering’ and, by extension, ‘any strong feeling, passion’. On the other hand, affectio or affectus means change in the state of the body or mind of a person, that is, in modern terms, feeling or emotion, the meaning of which is also carried by affectus. Motus has the nuance of ‘movement’, and so describes emotion as the movement/impulse of Philosophy 41 (2003), 433-48. See also a very recent publication on this topic: Adam Trettel, Desires in Paradise: An Interpretative Study of Augustine’s City of God 14 (Paderborn, 2018). 8 For details, see, for example, Catherine Conybeare, ‘Augustine’s Rhetoric in Theory and Practice’, in Michael J. MacDonald (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Rhetorical Studies (Oxford, 2017). 9 Augustine of Hippo, The City of God, Books VIII-XVI, trans. Grace Monahan and Gerald Groveland Walsh (Washington, DC, 1963).

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of the soul. In addition to these nuances of emotion, Augustine in his magnum opus et arduum, following Cicero, also makes use of the nuance of “perturbatio” to allude to the disturbances, commotion or perturbations of the soul by human emotions. To provide a better focus for this article, I first locate the ‘emotions-cluster’ books of DCD, where all five Latin lexicons which have the nuance of ‘emotion’ appear. Then, from these books, Then, from these books, I further focus on where virtus (and all its grammatical forms), beatitudo (and the related beatitate) and felicitas (both can mean ‘happiness’, with the former concerns more on eternal blessings and the latter, earthly happiness) for the purpose of looking into how Augustine rhetorically makes use of these words of emotions to receive and challenge the Stoic ideas of the nature of and relationship between human emotions, virtue and happiness.10 In this process, both the preceding and the chapter following the text in question (where the lexicon appears) should be examined, as the former would provide the sense and context of the chapter in focus, and a conceptual development may run through a subsequent chapter. These chapters are highlighted in the following tables. Table 1 below shows the occurrences of the ‘emotion’ lemmas (not including specific emotions), based on lexical search from CAG 2:11 Table 1. Occurrences of emotion lemmas used by Augustine (perturbatio, affectus/affectio, passio and motus) in De civitate Dei Book

perturbatio (n.) / perturbo (v.)

affectus / affectio

passio

motus

I

–

–

1.8

–

II

–

1.17, 1.31 2.25

2.29

2.1

III

3.18 (v.)

3.14 (×2)

–

–

3.10

IV

4.30 (v.)

–

–

–

–

V

5.12, 5.18 (v.)

5.26

–

5.18

5.9, 5.11

VI

6.10 (v.)

6.10

6.6

–

6.10

VII

–

–

–

–

7.15, 7.30

10

–

Stoics such as Seneca and Epictetus emphasize that because ‘virtue is sufficient for happiness’, a sage would be emotionally resilient to suffering of this world. 11 This is the second edition of Corpus Augustinianum Gissense (CAG 2), a Cornelius Mayer editum, an EDP-instrument for the research of Augustine developed by the Zentrum für Augustinus-Forschung (ZAF) in Würzburg in co-operation with the Kompetenzzentrum für elektronische Erschließungs- und Publikationsverfahren in den Geisteswissenschaften at the University of Trier (Basel, 2004). (The latest version is CAG 3 which is essentially an online version of CAG 2).

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VIII

8.16, 8.17 (4 n. + 3 v.)

IX

8.13, 8.14 (2), 8.15

8.24

8.14, 8.17 (×3)

8.17, 8.21

9.3 (2), 9.4 (×4), 9.5 (v.), 9.1, 9.6, 9.4, 9.8 9.5 (×2)

9.3, 9.4 (×2), 9.5

9.3 (×2), 9.4 (×7), 9.5 (×5), 9.6 (×4), 9.8 (×2)

9.5, 9.6

X

10.9, 10.10, 10.27

–

–

10.6, 10.9, 10.10 10.11, 10.27

–

XI

–

11.14

–

–

11.6

XII

–

12.22

12.6

–

12.16, 12.26

XIII

13.3 (v.)

–

–

–

13.15, 13.24

XIV

14.3, 14.5, 14.8 (×3), 14.9 (2 n. + 1 v.), 14.10 (1 n. + 1 v.), 14.11 (v.), 14.12 (v.)

14.6, 14.9 (×7), 14.10, 14.12, 14.16

14.9 (×5), 14.5, 14.8, 14.19 (×2), 14.9 (×2), 14.23, 14.15 (×2) 14.24

14.5, 14.6, 14.9 (×2), 14.16 (×2), 14.20, 14.23

XV

15.22 (×2 v.), 15.25

–

–

–

–

XVI

16.2 (v.), 16.24

16.4

–

16.2 (×6), 16.39, 16.43

16.2, 16.6

XVII

–

–

–

17.12, 17.17, 17.18 (×2), 17.19, 17.20

–

XVIII

–

–

–

18.30, 18.36, 18.46, – 18.49, 18.50

XIX

19.12 (v.), 19.13 (×3), 19.14 (v.), 19.15 (v.)

19.8

19.23

19.28 (×2)

19.4 (×2)

XX

–

20.30 (2)

–

20.30 (×3)

–

XXI

–

21.17

21.26

21.14 (×2)

–

XXII

22.22 (×2, v.)

22.8 (2), 22.30

–

–

22.25, 22.29, 22.30 (×2)

Total Occurrences

51

35

19

65

31

From the above table, one can observe that Books VIII, IX, XIV and XIX contain all the different lexicons of ‘emotions’, and that these are also the books where they occur most frequently. In other words, they are the ‘emotionclustered’ books in DCD. Then, let us also review the occurrences of ‘virtue’ (virtus) and happiness (beatitudo, and the related beatitas, and felicitas) in each book of DCD.

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Table 2. Occurrences of virtue (virtus) and happiness (beatitudo (+ beatitas) and felicitas) in De civitate Dei Book

Virtus

beatitudo/beatitas12

felicitas13

I

1,praef, 1.8, 1.9, 1.13, 1.15 (×4), 1.16 (×2), 1.18 (×2), 1.24, 1.31 (×3)

1.36

1.8, 1.10, 1.15 (×2), 1.24

II

2.13 (×1), 2.17, 2.19, 2.23, 2.25, 2.27 (×2), 2.29

–

2.5, 2.19, 2.20 (×2), 2.23 (×4), 2.24, 2.29 (×2)

III

3.10, 3.13, 3.15 (×2), 3.21

–

3.17, 3.18, 3.20 (×3), 3.21

IV

–

–

4.3 (×3), 4.15 (×3), 4.18 (×6), 4.19, 4.21 (×13), 4.23 (×24), 4.24 (×2), 4.25 (×10), 4.26, 4.33 (×3)

V

5.12 (×19), 5.14 (×2), 5.20 (×7), 5.17, 5.18 (×3), 5.19 (×6), 5.20 (×7), 5.22 (×2)

5.18

5.praef, 5.16, 5.18, 5.21, 5.24, 5.25, 5.26

VI

–

–

6.12 (×8)

VII

7.3, 7.12, 7.33

–

7.1, 7.3 (×3), 7.14

VIII

8.3, 8.6, 8.8, 8.10, 8.12, 8.13, 8.16, 8.24 (×2), 8.26

8.5

8.9, 8.10, 8.12, 8.16 (×2)

IX

9.3 (×3), 9.4 (×3), 9.5 (×3), 9.3, 9.7, 9.8 (×2), 9.12 – 9.6, (×3), 9.13 (×3), 9.20, 9.21 9.14 (×3), 9.15 (×5), 9.23 (×3)

X

10.3, 10.11, 10.16, 10.18, 10.19, 10.21 (×4), 10.22 (×2), 10.26, 10.27 (×3), 10.28 (×5). 10.29

10.3, 10.11, 10.28, 10.29, (10.30 beatitate), 10.31 (×2),

10.30

XI

11.1, 11.9

11.4 (×4), 11.11 (×3), 11.12, 11.13 (×4), 11.24

11.2, 11.11, 11.12, 11.13 (×5), 11.31, 11.32

XII

12.3, 12.24

12.1 (×2), 12.6 (×2), 12.9, 12.14 (×4), 12.15, (12.18 beatitate), 12.20, 12.21 (×11)

12.21 (×3)

12 I have intentionally ignored the other (adjectival/participle) forms of these nouns (beatus in 336 times, beatifico 5 times, beatificus 6 times). 13 I have intentionally ignored the various cognates of felix, the adjectival form of felicitas, which occur 59 times in DCD.

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XIII

13.5, 13.20, 13.21 (×2), 13.23

13.16 (×2), 13.17 (×3), 13.19

13.17, 13.19

XIV

14.9, 14.12 (×2), 14.13, 14.21 (×2), 14.22, 14.23, 14.28 (×2)

14.9, 14.10, 14.27

14.10, 14.12, 14.21, 14.23, 14.26

XV

15.20, 15.22 (×2)

15.18

15.1, 15.3, 15.15, 15.17, 15.18 (×2)

XVI

16.28 (×2)

–

16.23, 16.24, 16.40

XVII

17.4 (×14), 17.12, 17.17 (×2)

17.7 (×2), 17.20

17.7, 17.12, 17.20

XVIII

18.2, 18.12, 18.13, 18.30, 18.32 (×2), 18.41 (×2), 18.46, 18.50 (×2), 18.54

18.35, 18.41 (×2)

18.35

XIX

19.1 (×16), 19.2 (×6), 19.3 (×12), 19.4 (×14), 19.10 (×3), 19.12, 19.21, 19.23 (×2), 19.25 (×5), 19.27

19.1 (×3), 19.4 (×5), 19.10 (×2), 19.20, 19.27 (×2), 19.28

19.27

XX

20.2 (×2), 20.5, 20.19 (×4)

20.1, 20.21 (×2), 20.22, 20.26, 20.28

20.1, 20.7, 20.21, 20.26, 20.28, 20.30

XXI

21.4, 21.6, 21.13, 21.16, 21.27

21.1 (×2), 21.17 (×2), 21.18, 21.23, 21.27

21.1, 21.14, 21.16, 21.17

XXII

22.2, 22.7, 22.8, 22.11, 22.17, 22.19 (×2), 22.23, 22.24 (×3), 22.29, 22.30

22.1 (×2), 22.12

22.17, 22.19, 22.20, 22.22, 22.24 (×2), 22.30 (×4)

Total occurrences

291

115 (beatitudo, and 2 for beatitate)

180

From the above table, I observe that virtus (and its various grammatical forms) occur in all books in DCD (except Book IV), with a total occurrence close to the combination of that of beatitudo and felicitas. Also, one can also observe that the latter occurs in higher frequency in the first ten books of DCD (especially Book IV) than the former, while beatitudo occurs more in the later twelve books of DCD. Focusing on the ‘emotions-clustered’ Books VIII, IX, XIV and XIX highlighted in the above table, I can further narrow down to four passages in DCD, namely, (1) VIII 16-7, (2) IX 3-5, (3) XIV 9-10 and (4) XIX 3-4 as four key texts where Augustine explores the emotions in the context of discussing about virtue and happiness. The following section would shed light into how Augustine helps his reader understanding his theory of emotions and how that could relate to the pursuit of happiness.

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III. Aligning with the Stoics – Demonization of the Passions (VIII 16-7) The first ‘emotions cluster’ occurs in the pericope where Augustine hacks away Apuleius a Platonist’s claim that the demons who lives in the air and immortal are worthy of honour and worship by humans because of they are immortal and lives in the air. Augustine, of course, refutes the validity of Apuleius’s claim, stating that even birds live in the air, as he contends that even though the demons are immortal, they are immoral and are not worth any worship at all. In order to persuade his reader that these demons are not worth of worship, Augustine uses is a rhetoric of ‘emotions’, and thereby framing them as rationally and morally unstable and unreliable: De moribus ergo daemonum cum idem Platonicus loqueretur, dixit eos eisdem quibus homines animi perturbationibus agitari, inritari iniuriis, obsequiis donisque placari, gaudere honoribus, diuersis sacrorum ritibus oblectari et in eis si quid neglectum fuerit commoueri.14 Augustine is killing two birds in one stone here. While the moribus daemonmum (morals of the demons) are subject to animi perturbationibus (disturbances of the mind), the same way as are humans (including pagan leaders and philosophers alike). Perturbatio of the soul is hence the trait shared commonly between humans and daemons that are Achilles’ heel to moral goodness. Nobody is exempted from this pitfall of the soul, which resent pains, enjoys flattery and honours and become angry when they are neglected of these: Quippe, ut fine comprehendam, daemones sunt genere animalia, ingenio rationabilia, animo passiva, corpore aeria, tempore aeterna. Ex his quinque, quae commemoravi, tria a principio eadem quae nobis sunt, quartum proprium, postremum commune cum diis immortalibus habent, sed differunt ab his passione. Quae propterea passiva non absurde, ut arbitror, nominavi, quod sunt iisdem, quibus nos, turbationibus mentis obnoxii.15

Using Apuleius’ own words in daemons are having the same attribute of animo passiva (soul/mind that is subject to passions) as humans, Augustine pulls a shot to Apuleius’ defense of the daemons as having intermediate position 14 DCD VIII 16, CChr.SL 47, 233.1-5. ‘When this same Platonist discussed the morals of the demons, then, he said that they are subject to the same disturbances of mind as are human beings. They resent injuries, they are placated by flattery and gifts, they rejoice in honors, they take delight in various sacred rites and become irate when any of these are neglected’. Note that the subject of ‘ira’ (anger) is common in Roman Stoics, especially Seneca (for example, see his De Ira and Epistulae Morales ep. 14. 18 and 29). 15 Apuleius, De Deo Socratis, LCL 534, 373. ‘For, to define them comprehensively, demons are living beings by species, rational ones by nature, emotional in mind, aerial in body, eternal in time. Of these five qualities that I have mentioned, the first three they share with us, the fourth is peculiar to them, the last they share with the gods, though they differ from these in respect to emotionality. The term I have used for these beings, “emotional”, is not inappropriate, I think, since they are subject to the same fluctuations of mind as we are.’

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between gods and humans: While Apulieus would like to justify the varieties of the worship based on their souls being liable to passions,16 Augustine instead charged that the animo passiva of the daemons should have actually caused them to feel miserable, had they not felt embarrassed for their worshippers. And to this, he adds, ‘the misery of the demons would never have been eternal if their wickedness had not been so great’. There is a transference of nuance from the daemons’ liability of passions to their wickedness and misery. This is obvious towards the end of VIII 16, where Augustine uses anaphora to emphasize how miserable the condition of animo passiva for the daemons, and for the humans too: Quod animo passiua, cum hominibus solis; quod corpore aeria, ipsi sunt soli. Proinde quod genere sunt animalia, non est magnum, quia hoc sunt et pecora; quod mente rationalia, non est supra nos, quia sumus et nos; quod tempore aeterna, quid boni est, si non beata? Melior est enim temporalis felicitas quam misera aeternitas Quod animo passiua, quo modo supra nos est, quando et nos hoc sumus, nec ita esset, nisi miseri essemus? Quod corpore aeria, quanti aestimandum est, cum omni corpori praeferatur animae qualiscumque natura, et ideo religionis cultus, qui debetur ex animo, nequaquam debeatur ei rei, quae inferior est animo?17

Through the rhetorical questions, Augustine challenges the Platonist view that with such commotion of emotions, the deacons are not superior to humans at all; instead, the temporary happiness (of humans) are better than their eternal misery. (Melior est enim temporalis felicitas quam misera aeternitas.) Hence, Augustine goes on to assert that there is no virtue (virtutem), wisdom (sapientiam) and happiness (felicitatem) of the daemons that is worth any admiration. Note that Augustine’s way of presenting this is very Stoic-like, as the Roman Stoics such as Seneca believes that the way to happiness is attaining virtue through wisdom.18 Yet, Augustine takes a step further to assert that we should worship only God, as the daemons’ rationality only enables their misery, and so are their liability of passions (passiva); and being eternal only mean their misery can never end.19 16 Ibid. ‘For this reason, we should also accept what the diversity of religious observances and the variety of sacred offerings tell us – that some in this category of divine beings take pleasure in sacrifices, in ceremonies or rites that are performed by night or by day, openly or secretly, in joy [laetioribus] or in sorrow [tristioribus].’ 17 CChr.SL 47, 233.23-234.31, ‘And how does the fact that they are liable to the passions in soul make them better than us, for we are the same (and we would not be so if we had not been caught up in misery)? As to their being aerial in body, what is that worth, when the nature of any soul is to be valued above all bodies? And for that reason, religious worship, which is due from the soul, is never due to anything that is inferior to the soul.’ 18 See, for example, Seneca, Epistulae Morales ep. 44 and 64. 19 CChr.SL 47, 234.31-9, Porro si inter illa, quae daemonum esse dicit, adnumeraret uirtutem, sapientiam, felicitatem et haec eos diceret habere cum diis aeterna atque communia, profecto

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Then, in the beginning of VIII 17, Augustine describes perturbatio as what the Greek called πάθος, he swiftly associates the disturbances with the animo passive: Perturbatio est enim, quae Graece πάθος dicitur; unde illa voluit vocare animo passiva, quia verbum de verbo πάθος passio diceretur motus animi contra rationem. Hence this disturbance is negative, in accordance of the Stoics, in the sense of the movement of the soul away from proper reasoning – Augustine uses an analogous image of the soul, like a ship, ‘agitated by the whirlwinds and tempests of passions’, a disturbance in the attainment of wisdom and a life of happiness (this is a foreshadowing of the Stoic account of pre-passions in IX 4). On the same note, Augustine uses perturbantur and misera in an ‘ABABAB’ epistrophic structure to show how the disturbance of passions are linked to misery, which these ‘intermediate’ daemons are subject to – if the gods are happy without misery, they can only be ‘not happy, only misery’ species, like the humans (who worship them): Quam ob rem si propterea dii non perturbantur,   quod animalia sunt beata, non misera, et propterea pecora non perturbantur,   quod animalia sunt, quae nec beata possunt esse nec misera: restat ut daemones sicut homines ideo perturbentur,   quod animalia sunt non beata, sed misera.20

It is thus logical for Augustine to use rhetorical questions to end XIII 17: ‘What reason is there, then, other than sheer folly and wretched error, for you to humble yourself to venerate a being that you have no desire to resemble in your way of life? Why should you worship in religion one whom you have no desire to imitate, when the supreme height of religion is to imitate the one whom you worship?’ In this text, Augustine draws on the resonance of the reader to their emotional experience of worship – that they have the desire to imitate whom they worship. Perturbatio also forms a textual link from VIII 17 to IX 3-5 where in the latter, Augustine brings in more nuances of the passions apart from disturbances of the soul.

aliquid diceret exoptandum magnique pendendum; nec sic eos tamen propter haec tamquam deum colere deberemus, sed potius ipsum, a quo haec illos accepisse nossemus. quanto minus nunc honore diuino aeria digna sunt animalia, ad hoc rationalia ut misera esse possint, ad hoc passiua ut misera sint, ad hoc aeterna ut miseriam finire non possint! 20 CChr.SL 47, 234.1-23, ‘Thus, if the reason why the gods suffer no such disturbances is that they are animals that are happy and not miserable, and if the reason why the beasts suffer no such disturbances is that they are animals that are incapable of either happiness or misery, it remains that the reason why the demons, like human beings, suffer such disturbances is that they are animals that are not happy but miserable.’

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IV. Exploiting the Stoics: No good demons because they lack virtues that control the Passions (IX 3-5) In Book VIII, Augustine has renounced the worship of ‘demons’, refuting Apuleius’ claim that they act as the mediator between the gods whom God made and men whom the same God made (VIII 23). The demons, hiding behind the man-made idols and thus taking people captive, either do harm to them in disguise by ‘bestowing pretended benefits’ (‘cunning demons’) or in an undisguised way (‘malign demons’) (VIII 24). And Augustine makes plain that he intends to take a step further to ensure his reader will not only avoid worshipping ‘evil’ demons but also understand it is equally inappropriate for them to worship any ‘good’ demons in order that they may ‘attain to the eternally blessed life’ (per quos ad uitam in aeternum beatam21 perueniamus) (VIII 27). In IX 1-2, Augustine makes it very clear that this is his purpose for Book IX, for which that Augustine brings in his argument about emotions in DCD IX 4-5, whose categorization he borrows from the Stoics. To gain a better understanding of the ‘how’ and ‘why’ he treats Stoic emotions the way he does, it is paramount to look deeper into the rhetorical setup and what his strategy may be. In IX 3, Augustine again picks on another text of De Deo Socratis to argue that these demons do not have virtues of the soul (‘virtutibus … animorum’): … Quandoquidem Platonicus Apuleius de his uniuersaliter disserens et tam multa loquens de aeriis eorum corporibus de uirtutibus tacuit animorum, quibus essent praediti, si essent boni. tacuit ergo beatitudinis causam, indicium uero miseriae tacere non potuit,22 Augustine uses this pattern of tacuit … tacuit … tacere non potuit to create an emphasis on the dumbness and the uselessness of these demons (which are lurking behind the idols according to the previous book) to provide any example of virtue of the soul and happiness of people, 21 There are two other instances where Augustine uses ‘aeternum beatam’: first is from De anima et eius origine libri quattuor 4.14: et longe est melius nosse animam, quae in Christo renata et renouata fuerit, in aeternum beatam futuram quam quicquid de illius memoria, intellegentia, uoluntate nescimus. The other text is from Sermones 16.3: uia propter habendae uitae cupiditate praeceptum seruare suscepimus, et eam magis praeceptum seruando perdidimus. porro si uitam intellexerimus in aeternum beatam, quam post istam deus dabit oboedientibus sibi, de qua dominus dixit ad quemdam: si uis uenire ad uitam, serua mandata [Matt. 19:17], tunc uero interrogati: quis est homo qui uult uitam? [Ps. 33:13]. 22 For the Platonist Apuleius, in a treatise on this whole subject, while he says a great deal about their aerial bodies, has not a word to say of the spiritual virtues with which, if they were good, they must have been endowed. Not a word has he said, then, of that which could give them happiness; but proof of their misery he has given, acknowledging that their mind, by which they rank as reasonable beings, is not only not imbued and fortified with virtue so as to resist all unreasonable passions, but that it is somehow agitated with tempestuous emotions, and is thus on a level with the mind of foolish men.

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even to the extent that these demons are not able to defend themselves from these deficiencies. What is Augustine’s rhetorical strategy here? On one hand, this ‘tacere’ nuance (not a word … not a word … not a word …) would serve as a ‘silencing’ tag for Augustine to hint to the reader the ineffectiveness of the Platonist’s words and allow him to make his theological point about passions and happiness (eudaimonia / beaututido). In addition, contrary to what Augustine said about ‘uirtutibus tacuit animorum’, Apuleius does mention in De Deo Socratis Chapter about the virtues of a good demons: ‘… daemon bonus, id est animus, virtute perfectus est’. And eudaimones come to those blessed ones who have such a good demon. Therefore, strictly speaking, Apuleius is not silent (‘not a word’) on the good daemon’s virtue of the soul and their ability to give people happiness. Yet Augustine intends to downplay Apuleius’ argument while lighting up his own. In other words, Augustine uses Apuleius’ words for his own purpose. He continues in IX 3 with these words: … of that which could give them happiness, but proof of their misery he has given, acknowledging that their mind, by which they rank as reasonable beings, is not only not imbued and fortified with virtue so as to resist all unreasonable passions, but that it is somehow agitated with tempestuous emotions, and is thus on a level with the mind of foolish men.23 His own words are: ‘It is this class of demons the poets refer to, when, without serious error, they feign that the gods hate and love individuals among men, prospering and ennobling some, and opposing and distressing others. Therefore pity, indignation, grief, joy, every human emotion is experienced by the demons, with the same mental disturbance, and the same tide of feeling and thought. These turmoils and tempests banish them far from the tranquility of the celestial gods.’24

While Augustine agrees in part with Apuleius (that demons have emotions like humans), he draws a very difficult conclusion – that no demons, however ‘good’ they are deemed, should be worshipped. Can there be any doubt that in these words it is not some inferior part of their spiritual nature, but the very mind by which the demons hold their rank as rational beings, which he says is tossed with passion like a stormy sea? They cannot, then, be compared even to wise men, who with undisturbed mind resist these perturbations to which they are exposed in this life, and from which human infirmity is never exempt, and 23 DCD IX 3, CChr.SL 47, 250.5-10. Tacuit ergo beatitudinis causam, indicium uero miseriae tacere non potuit, confitens eorum mentem, qua rationales esse perhibuit, non saltem inbutam munitamque uirtute passionibus animi inrationabilibus nequaquam cedere, sed ipsam quoque, sicut stultarum mentium mos est, procellosis quodam modo perturbationibus agitari. 24 DCD IX.3, CChr.SL 47, 250.11-251.19. Ex hoc ferme daemonum numero, inquit, poetae solent haudquaquam procul a ueritate osores et amatores quorundam hominum deos fingere; hos prosperare et euehere, illos contra aduersari et adfligere; igitur et misereri et indignari, et angi et laetari omnemque humani animi faciem pati, simili motu cordis et salo mentis per omnes cogitationum aestus fluctuare. Quae omnes turbelae tempestatesque procul a deorum caelestium tranquillitate exulant.

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who do not yield themselves to approve of or perpetrate anything which might deflect them from the path of wisdom and law of rectitude. They resemble in character, though not in bodily appearance, wicked and foolish men. I might indeed say they are worse, inasmuch as they have grown old in iniquity, and incorrigible by punishment. Their mind, as Apuleius says, is a sea tossed with tempest, having no rallying point of truth or virtue in their soul from which they can resist their turbulent and depraved emotions.

The emotions, according to Augustine, cause perturbations like the tempest in the sea. This analogy, delivered through simile and metaphor, is employed by Augustine to prepare his reader to introduce Cicero and his view of emotions later in IX 4. Furthermore, in the original text of De Deo Socratis 13, Apuleius writes this text to show that demons ‘have immorality in common with those above, but emotionally with those below…’ thus they are ‘living beings by species, rational ones by nature, emotional in mind, aerial in body, eternal in time.’ He adds that it is the first three they share with humans, and even explicitly says that these demons are ‘subject to the same fluctuations of mind as we are’. Note that in the context when Apuleius says ‘we’, he means all humans. However, Augustine assigns this ‘fluctuations of mind’ to ‘wicked and foolish men’, not all humans as Apuleius originally puts it. Augustine seems to demonstrate a Stoic-like mindset in comparison to Apuleius. In the ways mentioned above, by carefully choosing a philosophical text for his purpose, Augustine shows his rhetorical turn: He explicitly resonates with Apuleius and then turns out to reject Apuleius; as one can continue to discover, this kind of rhetorical turn is used by Augustine in his treatment to Stoic emotions as well. In IX 4, Augustine extends Cicero’s phrase perturbationes animae (disturbances of the soul) to express the idea of Stoic emotions in DCD: Duae sunt sententiae philosophorum de his animi motibus, quae Graeci πάθη, nostri autem quidam, sicut Cicero, perturbationes, quidam affectiones vel affectus, quidam vero, sicut iste, de Graeco expressius passiones vocant. Has ergo perturbationes sive affectiones sive passiones quidam philosophi dicunt etiam in sapientem cadere, sed moderatas rationique subiectas, ut eis leges quodam modo quibus ad necessarium redigantur modum dominatio mentis inponat. Hoc qui sentiunt Platonici sunt sive Aristotelici, cum Aristoteles discipulus Platonis fuerit, qui sectam Peripateticam condidit. Aliis autem sicut Stoicis, cadere ullas omnino huiusce modi passiones in sapientem non placet.25 25

‘There are two views held by philosophers about these movements of the mind that the Greeks call pathe. Some Latin writers call them “disturbances”, as Cicero does; some call them “affections” or “affects”; others call them “passions”, as Apuleius does, following the Greek more closely. Some philosophers say that these disturbances or affections or passions come upon even the sage, but are controlled and subjected to reason, so that the supremacy of the mind imposes laws on them in some way, by which they are kept to the necessary limit. This is the opinion of the Platonists and Aristotelians … But others, such as the Stoics, do not agree that passions of this sort come upon the sage at all.’ (DCD IX 4).

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Augustine’s adoption of the Ciceronian term ‘perturbationes’ reflects his intentional highlight and even approval of Stoic view of emotions among other brands of philosophers (particularly the Platonists and Aristotelians)26 – in the sense that such ‘emotions’ disturb one’s rational capacity to become a sage. This argument is, again, in line with the Stoics. Augustine’s ‘passions’ heavy rhetoric stem from his imminent concern that his audience is in a shaky spiritual condition in the aftermath of the sack of Rome; the pagans are attacking the Christian God as being futile in protecting people from the calamity and have even been suggesting that they should go back to worship the daemons who would be a good mediator to the Roman gods. The perturbations stir up emotions of fear amidst and after the catastrophe, and this is how and why Augustine segues into a particular kind of passion – fear. In DCD IX 4-5, Augustine discusses the Stoic views of passions, especially focusing on pre-passions and fear. He narrates that Aulus Gellius (ca. 125 – after 180), a Latin author and grammarian, once told a story where he encountered a storm on the sea and on the same there was a Stoic philosopher, who, to Gellius’ surprise, was as frightened as he is, as he thought the Stoics are supposed to be indifferent to external circumstances and have overcome negative emotions such as fear. The story then continues when the Stoic philosopher brought out the fifth book of Epictetus’ Discourses from which he explained that we have the power to choose whether to assent to the impressions that are forced upon us. However, the will can be shocked by the sudden circumstance (such as the storm) and an emotion of fear thus occurred momentarily. Yet the will of the Stoic mind will not give his assent to the impression once he has a chance to think through it. Hence the ‘fear’ is only a momentary ‘movement’ but not an assent. Augustine in IX 4.2 describes that “it is as if the resulting emotion is just too quick for the mind”. The image of ‘storming sea’ so shocking even to the Stoics might actually be Augustine’s rhetoric response to the Christian readers who were losing faith in God and/or His church because of the ‘shock’ experienced in Rome and the influx of refugees to the Hippo area. In this section of Book IX, the reader also finds Augustine argues that Stoics’ distinction between goods and advantages are merely terminological, and the philosophy would agree that virtue should include seeing that justice is maintained. And passion, which is necessary for compassion is what makes a person seeing good and well-being for others. It is towards the end of IX 5 where Augustine writes of some inconsistencies among the Stoic texts: Cicero, an outstanding master of words, did not hesitate to call compassion a virtue, even though the Stoics feel no shame at listing it among the vices. But even the Stoics 26

For an example of a scholarly treatment on Augustine’s Stoic transformation of the Platonic tradition, see, Victor Yudin, ‘A Stoic Conversion: Porphyry by Plato. Augustine’s Reading of the Timaeus 41 a7-b6’, SP 58 (2013), 127-80.

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– as we are taught by the book of that preeminent Stoic Epictetus, which is based on the teachings of Zeno and Chrysippus, who were the founders of the school – admit passions of this sort into the mind of the wise man, who is, they insist, free of all vice. It follows, then, that they do not really consider these passions to be vices when they occur in the wise man, just so long as they carry no force contrary to reason or to the virtue of the mind…

In the foregoing text, Augustine attempts to reconcile the typical conception of a Stoic being ‘indifferent to feelings’ with the truth that Stoic philosophers like Epictetus and Cicero, who had indeed allowed passions to be in the mind of wise men (It could be somehow associated with Epictetus’ ex-slave status, so that he came to be more supportive of having passion and compassion towards other people). On the other hand, Augustine seems to be actually ‘integrating’. Stoicism and Christian theology here, as he mentions how God from the Scripture who has compassion, and may get angry at times, yet he is not disturbed by any passion, the latter of which resembles the Stoic notion of apatheia. V. Baptizing the Stoics: The Christian ‘Good Passions’ (XIV 9-10) In Book XIV 6, Augustine criticizes the Stoic idea that all passions and affections, no matter what their nature, were to be considered vices. He said, ‘if these emotions (motus) and affections (affectus) which spring from a love of what is good and from holy charity are to be called vices, then … that real vices should be called virtues. However, the fact is that when such affections (affectiones) are directed to their proper objects, they follow right reason, and no one should dare to describe them as diseases (morbos) or vicious passions (passiones)’. In XIV 8, exploring the mind of the Stoic sage, Augustine quotes Cicero who claims that there are three constant dispositions, or ‘good emotion’ (eupatheiai [Greek]/constantias [Latin]): These are will (boulêsis [Greek]/voluntas [Latin], in place of lust/desire), joy (chara [Greek]/gaudium [Latin], in place of delight) and caution (eulabeia [Greek]/cautio [Latin], in place of fear), which are only experienced by sage. What Cicero calls ‘passions’ are ‘disturbances’ experienced only by the fool: lust/desire, delight, fear and distress/grief. Here the original Latin text is worth to be cited here as different English translations render these terms differently, which could cause additional confusion: Quas enim Graeci appellant εὐπαθείας, Latine autem Cicero constantias nominauit, Stoici tres esse uoluerunt pro tribus perturbationibus in animo sapientis, pro cupiditate uoluntatem, pro laetitia gaudium, pro metu cautionem; pro aegritudine uero uel dolore, quam nos uitandae ambiguitatis gratia tristitiam maluimus dicere, negauerunt esse posse aliquid in animo sapientis.27 27

DCD XIV 8, CChr.SL 48, 423.1-7.

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These replacements are so called the genuinely good emotional responses to the ‘genuine goods’ (virtues), or ‘rational’ emotions. It is worth to note that Augustine highlights Stoics lack of any term for the ‘genuine good’ emotion of ‘grief/distress’ because they did not believe there is any. Augustine seems to be intentional to highlight that, and wants to call it tristitia. This will allow him to ease into his next point of exhortation for the Stoics and his reader: Despite the Stoic aversion of grief, Augustine argues that it can be useful for repentance. Ac per hoc possunt Stoici pro suis partibus respondere, ad hoc uideri utilem esse tristitiam, ut peccasse paeniteat; in animo autem sapientis ideo esse non posse, quia nec peccatum in eum cadit, cuius paenitentia contristetur, nec ullum aliud malum, quod perpetiendo et sentiendo sit tristis. Nam et Alcibiadem ferunt (si me de nomine hominis memoria non fallit), cum sibi beatus uideretur, Socrate disputante et ei quam miser esset, quoniam stultus esset, demonstrante fleuisse. Huic ergo stultitia fuit causa etiam huius utilis optandaeque tristitiae, qua homo esse se dolet, quod esse non debet. Stoici autem non stultum, sed sapientem aiunt tristem esse non posse.28

Thus, Augustine not only uses the Scripture (2Cor. 7:8-11) to make the point of godly grief, he seems to appeal to the Stoics to ‘complete’ their ‘good, rational emotion’ categorization and proposes that a person is not really a sage if he or she cannot feel grief. The argument would be compelling to them, because the Stoics would hope to be a good, virtuous person. Note also that there is a linguistic turn when Augustine writes ‘pro cupiditate uoluntatem’. By citing Cicero’s translation of boulesin to voluntas, Augustine draws the reader’s attention to the lexical nuances of this word with the other occurrences of this word, often translated as ‘will’ in English, in other parts of DCD. This “good, rational emotion” is part of the family of meaning of voluntas; Here in XIV 8, the nature of voluntas come into play in the ‘good rational emotion context’ and syncing very well with the development of the word’s nuance, which is a free, rational impulse. Therefore, we see the Stoic concept of passions serves as a useful springboard for Augustine to develop his nuance for voluntas. Finally, after searching through the Scripture for these passions, Augustine concludes that ‘will, caution, and gladness are common to both the good and the evil … in other words, desire, fear and joy are also common to both the good and the evil. But the good have these emotions in a good way and the evil in a bad way, just as the human will is either rightly directed or wrongly directed.’29 It is, however, puzzling to read Augustine leaving the reader there without further elaborating on how the good person has these emotions in a good way. Specifically, what causes a good person to have a good will? Does the action 28

DCD XIV 8, CChr.SL 48, 425.97-108. DCD XIV 8, CChr.SL 48, 425.80-5. Proinde volunt cauent gaudent et boni et mali; atque ut eadem aliis verbis enuntiemus, cupiunt timent laetantur et boni et mali; sed illi bene, isti male, sicut hominibus seu recta seu peruersa uoluntas est. ipsa quoque tristitia, pro qua Stoici nihil in animo sapientis inueniri posse putauerunt, reperitur in bono et maxime apud nostros. 29

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define the person being good or bad? Or is the ‘good’ or ‘bad’ nature something innate to that person, such that he or she wills in a good way? Who gets to decide to judge what is a ‘good way’ or ‘evil way’ for the passion to be directed? The reader will need to wait until XIV 14 to learn that God will be the judge of human’s way, and that the city of man, in contrast of the city of God, is filled with people who has ungodly, perverse emotions. This leads to the first sin of humans, as the cause of the original sin, Augustine argues, is the evil will, a will that is ‘willed according to self and not according to God’ (XIV 11). And indeed, the evil will (out of pride) precedes the evil act which is a transgression of God’s commandment (XIV 13). A detailed discussion about these passages in Book XIV is beyond the scope of this article. However, this idea of ‘willing the good’ serves as a good bridge for the next section where we see what Augustine and Stoic ideas of goodness are. Finally, it is observed that perturbatio is used by Augustine as an explicit semantic link between 9.4-5 and 14.9-10: Verum his philosophis, quod ad istam quaestionem de animi perturbationibus adtinet, iam respondimus in nono huius operis libro, ostendentes eos non tam de rebus quam de verbis cupidiores esse contentionis quam veritatis. Apud nos autem iuxta scripturas sanctas sanamque doctrinam cives sanctae civitatis Dei in huius vitae peregrinatione secundum Deum viventes metuunt cupiuntque, dolent gaudentque, et quia rectus est amor eorum, istas omnes affectiones rectas habent.30

Here, we see a shift of emphasis from perturbatio to affectus (in the form of affectiones); the former is disturbance of the soul, and the latter starts to pick up a central part of Augustine’s theology of emotions, as good emotions (affectus) according to Augustine is not just a Stoic eupatheia but those that is expressed according to the eternal law of God. Augustine is going to continue to elaborate on this point in Book XIV.

VI. Affectus as a righteous will and good love (Book XIV) In the third section of DCD, Book XI to XIV, Augustine drills more into the impact of affectus and explores what virtuous affections would mean for him; In XIV.6, Augustine stipulates that ‘desire (cupiditas) and joy (laetitia) are 30 CChr.SL 47, 14.9: ‘But so far as regards this question of mental perturbations, we have answered these philosophers in the ninth book of this work, showing that it is rather a verbal than a real dispute, and that they seek contention rather than truth. Among ourselves, according to the sacred Scriptures and sound doctrine, the citizens of the holy city of God, who live according to God in the pilgrimage of this life, both fear and desire, and grieve and rejoice. And because their love is rightly placed, all these affections of theirs are right. They fear eternal punishment, they desire eternal life; they grieve because they themselves groan within themselves, waiting for the adoption, the redemption of their body … they rejoice in hope… = In like manner they fear to sin, they desire to persevere; they grieve in sin, they rejoice in good works.’

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simply voluntas in consent with what we want, and fear (metus) and grief (tristitia) are voluntas in dissent with what we do not want.’31 However, as Teubner points out, transferring the nuance of affectus to voluntas does not resolve the need to categorize an impression properly that is worthy of consent.32 In XIV 7, Augustine categorizes affectus in the Christianized Stoic fashion, with the classically Stoic four categories but with a Christian turn by defining them according to love: A righteous will [recta voluntas], then, is a good love [bonus amor]; and a perverted will is an evil love [malus amor]. Therefore, love striving to possess what it loves is desire [cupiditas]; love possessing and enjoying what it loves is joy [laetitia]; love fleeing what is adverse to it is fear [metus]; and love undergoing such adversity when it occurs is grief [tristitia]. Accordingly, these feelings are bad if the love is bad, and good if it is good.33

Augustine then writes in XIV 9, ‘if these emotions [motus] and feelings [affectus], that spring from love of the good and from holy charity, are to be called faults, then let us allow that real faults should be called virtues. But since these feelings [affectiones] are the consequence of right reason when they are exhibited in the right situations, who would then venture to call them morbid [morbos] or disordered passions [passiones]?’34 Hence, compatientis affectus (feeling of compassion) is ‘just’ (rightly-ordered, in Augustine’s word) when one uses a righteous will (voluntas) to comply with the eternal law of God which is summarized in the love of Christ. In the last section of DCD, the reader is going to find out the ultimate affectus that satisfies the soul of all who loves God. VII. Affectus as a communal eternal love for God and others (Books XIX and XXII) Towards the final stage of the city of God, the people of God are walking towards the consummation of the world and the ultimate fulfilment of love and 31 DCD XIV 6, CChr.SL 48, 421.3-8: Voluntas est quippe in omnibus; immo omnes nihil aliud quam voluntates sunt. Nam quid est cupiditas et laetitia nisi voluntas in eorum consensione quae volumus? Et quid est metus atque tristitia nisi voluntas in dissensione ab his quae nolumus? 32 Jonathan D. Teubner, 12. 33 DCD XIV 7, CChr.SL 48, 422.40-5: Recta itaque voluntas est bonus amor et voluntas perversa malus amor. Amor ergo inhians habere quod amatur, cu-piditas est, id autem habens eoque fruens laetitia; fugiens quod ei adversatur, timor est, idque si acciderit sentiens tristitia est. Proinde mala sunt ista, si malus amor est; bona, si bonus. 34 DCD XIV 9, CChr.SL 48, 427.59-63: Hi motus, hi affectus de amore boni et de sancta caritate venientes si uitia uocanda sunt, sinamus, ut ea, quae vere vitia sunt, uirtutes uocentur. sed cum rectam rationem sequantur istae affectiones, quando ubi oportet adhibentur, quis eas tunc morbos seu uitiosas passiones audeat dicere?

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peace in Christ. In Book XIX, Augustine recognizes the suffering and grieving when one loses a friend: For, if their life delighted us with the comforts of friendship, how could it possibly happen that their death would bring us no sadness? Anyone who forbids such sadness must forbid, if he can, all friendly conversation; he must ban or banish all mutual affection [interdicat amicalem vel intercidat affectum]; he must with unfeeling savagery sever the bonds of all human relationships; or else he must stipulate that they are only to be used in such a way that the soul gets no pleasure from them.35

Expressing a friend lost to death is a good emotion. This reminds the reader of Book III 14 where Augustine mentions the good emotions of a woman who express grief towards loss of a friend. There, Augustine once again uses human affectus of grief expressed by one woman, a sister of the Horatii (from Rome) who wept for the loss of her betrothed who is one of the Curiatii (from Alba) killed by her victorious Roman brother in the war between the two tribes. Augustine praises this woman’s affectus in contrast to the cold-blooded Romans who praised themselves for the war crime that they have done to shed blood of many due to their ‘lust for domination’ (libido dominandi) which ‘roils and consumes the human race with great evils’. The emotion of grief can be good because it is a Christian love for others, in contrast to ‘lust for domination’ that focuses on the power for oneself, has the function of guiding people to have grief feelings when someone close to heart died, and in the case of the woman, she grieved not only for the loss of her betrothed but the loss of humanity of her bloodlust brother. Augustine put a sharp contrast between the woman’s feeling for human lives versus the Romans who are dominated by the lust for domination, which ‘consumes the human race for all evils’. What does Augustine’s final remark on affectus in DCD look like? It conveys a fascinating sense of communal consummation of God’s love and joy, as among the city of God, his own chosen people, all desires will be fulfilled in Him, and this feeling (affectus) will be shared by all: The reward of virtue will be God himself, who gave the virtue and who promised himself to it, and than whom there can be nothing better or greater. When he said through the prophet, I will be their God, and they shall be my people (Lev. 26:12), what did he mean but ‘I will be their fulfillment; I will be all that people rightly desire [Ego ero unde satientur, ego ero quaecumque ab hominibus honeste desiderantur] – life, health, sustenance, plenty, glory, honor, peace, and all good things’? This is also the right way to understand what the Apostle says, That God may be all in all (1Cor. 15:28). He will be the end of our desires: he will be seen without end, loved without satiation, and 35 DCD XIX 8, CChr.SL 48, 672.18-24: Quorum enim nos uita propter amicitiae solacia delectabat, unde fieri potest, ut eorum mors nullam nobis ingerat maestitudinem? Quam qui prohibet, prohibeat, si potest, amica conloquia, interdicat amicalem vel intercidat affectum, humanarum omnium necessitudinum vincula mentis inmiti stupore disrumpat aut sic eis utendum censeat, ut nulla ex eis animum dulcedo perfundat.

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praised without weariness. And this gift, this feeling [affectus], this activity, like eternal life itself, will be shared by all.36

This brings the reader’s memory back to the beginning of DCD. All the selfhonor and self-love belongs to the city of man, and the city of God are those who will see God as their fulfilment of their desire. This is the true happiness that all should pursue. ‘Vt sit Deus omnia in omnibus. Ipse finis erit desideriorum nostrorum… Hoc munus, hic affectus, hic actus profecto erit omnibus, sicut ipsa vita aeterna, communis’!

VIII. Conclusion From the beginning to the end of DCD, Augustine recognizes that having affectus (feelings) is a common attribute of humankind, lest we would be automatons. This would mean we would feel painful and grief in times of loss. Yet it is of more concern for Augustine that we have the right emotion as opposed to the wrong ones. The ethical aspect of emotions would mean for Augustine a good or bad orientation of human will and love, which divides humankind into two groups; there are ones who possess emotions for the sake of satisfying themselves through desiring other things/person rather than God, and there are those who and orient their love to God and thus aligns their emotions towards Him. The former is the self-love group who is the city of man and the latter, the love-God group who is the city of God. In this paper, I have explored how and why Augustine re-baptized Stoic emotions to a Christian concept in De civitate Dei with theological and communal implications. Even though Augustine recognizes the Stoic categorization and concept of eupatheia such as compassion, yet only through receiving and imitating Christ can one experience good emotions that enables true happiness (beatitudo) of eternal life. Virtue in Christ including faith, hope and love will be perfected when one will experience the perfect emotions of love and joy. Compassion without commotion, for example, is an example of Christian love, the true eupatheia. Hence, Christians should focus their attaining and sharing these for the salvation of others. In this sense, the forgoing survey of Augustine’s rendition of Stoic emotions has shed light on his pastoral intent in the context of the 36

DCD XXII 30, CChr.SL 48, 863.26-36: Praemium uirtutis erit ipse, qui uirtutem dedit eique se ipsum, quo melius et maius nihil possit esse, promisit. Quid est enim aliuds quod per prophetam dixit: Ero illorum Deus, et ipsi erunt mihi plebs, nisi: ‘Ego ero unde satientur, ego ero quaecumque ab hominibus honeste desiderantur, et uita et salus et uictus et copia et gloria et honor et pax et omnia bona’? Sic enim et illud recte intellegitur, quod ait apostolus: Vt sit Deus omnia in omnibus. Ipse finis erit desideriorum nostrorum, qui sine fine uidebitur, sine fastidio amabitur, sine fatigatione laudabitur. Hoc munus, hic affectus, hic actus profecto erit omnibus, sicut ipsa vita aeterna, communis.

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troubled world: He takes this common human attribute of ‘emotions’ to the next level, designating it as a theological pointer to true happiness sought by all humanity. Overall, this article is a glimpse of my larger doctoral project which intends to show that Augustine, while maintaining that true happiness cannot be attained in this troubled world, asserts that right-ordered emotions are indispensable for one to live with temporal happiness and to seek eternal happiness. His rhetoric of emotions is an important way to repave his reader on the road of regaining this happiness through love to God and compassion to others in suffering and loss.

A Theology of Hospitality from Augustine’s Understanding of the Theophany of Mamre Martin BELLEROSE, Dominican University College, Montreal, Canada

ABSTRACT This paper analyzes two of Augustine’s texts on the theophany of Mamre: one from On the Trinity (II 10-1) and the other from The City of God (XVI 29). Although Augustine seems more interested in determining if it is a Christophany or a theophany and in exploring the use of singular and plural to refer to the visitors, both writings evoke the theme of hospitality and take into account the fact that Genesis 18:1-15 is a key text on that theme. It is suggested that in these writings, the bishop of Hippo settles on some pastoral and theological pathways for a praxis of hospitality. It is in some manner the theological basis for how he understood the asylum offered by Christians when they opened their basilicas to shelter refugees during the destruction of Rome in 410. In conclusion, the article suggests how Augustine’s writings mentioned above can nourish our presentday reflection on hospitality toward refugees in a broader perspective of the theology of migration.

Many texts from St Augustine may be useful to inspire a contemporary theology of hospitality, like his sermons on hospitality or in Book 1 of The City of God, where he underlines the works of Christians who opened their basilicas to offer hospitality to refugees fleeing the massacres during the destruction of Rome in 410. Here we will treat the theme of hospitality in Augustine from its very source in Scripture: the theophany of Mamre in Genesis 18:1-15. To do so, we will first offer an overview of a more global understanding of what the theophany of Mamre can mean in a perspective of a contemporary theology of migration. Second, we will analyze two texts about the Mamre theophany: one from The City of God and one from On the Trinity. From these texts, we seek to reach the essence of hospitality in Augustine. That will be a key for reading and understanding the first chapters of Book 1 of The City of God, which we will do in the third part of this paper. This last part concludes, drawing some pathways to explore how Augustine’s reflections on the theophany of Mamre can constitute a fundamental theology for what he describes as Christian pastoral praxis at the time of the sack of Rome. These pathways can also be helpful now, as Christians are called to deal with refugees – which they do not seem to know how to do.

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 203-212. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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The theology of migration perspective for understanding of the theophany of Mamre In the following, we will look at Genesis 18:1-15, on the theophany of Mamre, to show how, using a reading from the perspective of the theology of migration, we can stress some criteria for a contemporary Christian praxis of hospitality. In the New Testament we find the word philoxenia three times in the epistles: in Romans 12:13, 1Peter 4:9, and Hebrews 13:2. The word is usually translated by ‘hospitality’, ‘to practice hospitality’, ‘to offer hospitality’, and ‘to show hospitality’.1 Although the texts of Romans and 1Peter give, in themselves, more elements to articulate the theme theologically, we will focus on the verse from Hebrews, which refers directly to the theophany of Mamre: ‘Keep on loving one another as brothers and sisters. Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.’2 Based on Genesis 18:1-15 and, by extension, Genesis 19, we stress five criteria of hospitality: 1) the movement of going toward our guests; 2) reciprocity; 3) community; 4) the offering of classical hospitality, which means food, drink, rest, and washing their feet (hygiene); and 5) a promise. The first criterion appears in a strange verse of the text: ‘Abraham looked up and saw three men standing nearby. When he saw them, he hurried from the entrance of his tent to meet them and bowed low to the ground.’3 The sentence doesn’t make sense. Why did Abraham hurry to go to meet them if they were standing nearby? The author means that Abraham considers them to be important, and that to be hospitable means to be pro-active. It cannot be limited to merely waiting for our guests to come to us. Moreover, this ‘going toward’ paves the way for reciprocity, our second item. Going toward his guests, Abraham puts himself in a position of vulnerability, because he gives the visitors the option of rejecting him. In that way he experiences the same vulnerability as his guests do: he also needs their acceptance. This is what we call reciprocity. The third criterion is that hospitality can also involve community. Common hospitality is often understood as a one-on-one situation: offering a meal or shelter to someone, taking care of the person, and so on. In the case of the theophany of the oak of Mamre, Abraham’s household, a group of persons, welcomes a group of people to whom they offer hospitality. Abraham involves many people in the act of hospitality: ‘So Abraham hurried into the tent to Sarah. “Quick,” he said, “get three seahs of the finest flour and knead it and bake some bread.” Then he ran to the herd and selected a choice, tender calf 1 2 3

Biblical translations are from the New International Version. Heb. 13:1-2. Gen. 18:2.

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and gave it to a servant, who hurried to prepare it.’4 It is the entire household – the community – that is mobilized to offer hospitality. The fourth criterion is what we call here the classical offering of hospitality, which means to give food, something to drink, a place to rest – this can be a place in the shade of a tree if they are received at noon, or a shelter if they are welcomed at night5 – and what the guest needs for personal hygiene. Sometimes, the criteria of hospitality push people out of their comfort zone, and what should be basic hospitality when we welcome someone is forgotten. The final criterion of Genesis 18, the promise, sounds like it has nothing to do with hospitality. From the Christian perspective, though, the promise is fundamental to its eschatological scope. There is no moving, no migration, without the promise. It is a promise of a land and descendants that motivates Abraham to leave Haran. It is a promise conjugated in a present continuous tense, an accomplishing promise, already done but not yet in its full scope. At the beginning of the Abraham narrative, the promise had been made: ‘The LORD had said to Abram, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you. I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing.”’6 Merely five verses later, when Abraham had just arrived in the land of the Canaanites, the Lord revised his promise to the patriarch: ‘The LORD appeared to Abram and said, “To your offspring, I will give this land.” So he built an altar there to the LORD, who had appeared to him.’7 It sounds like a major lack of respect. Abraham fled Haran because the Lord has promised him a land, and when he got there, the Lord told him that this land will be for his descendants. The great irony is that Abraham does not have any descendants at this time. It is shocking. However, it is precisely here that faith appears, when you have enough facts to ground what you believe in. In that way, a migrating context will always be the historical condition that makes us believe something else is possible – because we are actually on the way toward a different world. André Wénin reads Genesis 18 in parallel with Genesis 17. For him, both texts have the same purpose and the same historical event as their theme, which is the Covenant. He suggests reading these two chapters together, so the hospitality that Abraham offers can be understood as a consequence of his circumcision. En ce sens, l’accueil aussi prévenant que généreux d’Abraham témoigne que, chez lui, l’inscription dans sa chaire du signe de sa singularité n’entraîne pas un repli identitaire, mais l’ouvre sans réticence à l’autre, à l’étranger. La scène devient alors l’illustration 4

Gen. 18:6-7. This difference is seen if we compare Abraham’s hospitality toward the three men in Genesis 18 and the hospitality of Lot toward the two angels in Genesis 19. 6 Gen. 12:1-2. 7 Gen. 12:7. 5

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de ce qu’Abraham est entré dans le sens profond de la circoncision. Par ailleurs, la circoncision est aussi le signe de l’alliance entre Abraham et El Shaddaï.8

Some passages of the New Testament show something similar, where the practice of hospitality is the consequence of the sanctifying action of the Holy Spirit through baptism. Acts 16 contains eloquent examples in two different narratives: when Lydia, after being baptized, offers hospitality,9 and when the jailer of Paul and Silas offers them hospitality after he receives the Holy Spirit through baptism. In the New Testament, as in Acts 16, hospitality is presented as a gift of the Holy Spirit, specifically from an evangelical perspective of the theology of migration.10 Another criterion for hospitality belongs to the theophany of Mamre; it isn’t mentioned in Genesis 18, but is highlighted in chapter 19. This criterion is that of protection. People must feel safe when they are received somewhere. Lot protects his guests from sexual assault. When the two angels arrived at Sodom, they did not want to stay in the city for the night, but Lot insisted; perhaps he knew the risks that lay in store for his guests. Then the men of Sodom surrounded Lot’s house and ‘They called to Lot, “Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us so that we can have sex with them.” Lot went outside to meet them and shut the door behind him and said, “No, my friends. Don’t do this wicked thing.”’11 Here, for Lot, taking care of the totality of the guests is also part of what we can call hospitality. This criterion is particularly important to consider in the historical context of migration. The theophany of Mamre in On the Trinity (II 11) and in The City of God (XVI 29) When Augustine writes on the theophany of Mamre, he is not likely concerned by questions of a contemporary theology of migration, such as the theme of hospitality in a migratory context. He has other concerns. However, for many other Church Fathers, to talk about hospitality meant to preach on Genesis 18:1-15.12 Augustine seemed to have a different perspective; his sermons on hospitality took another angle.13 8

André Wénin, Abraham ou l’apprentissage du dépouillement (Paris, 2016), 170-1. Acts 16:15. 10 See Martin Bellerose, ‘El “Don” de hospitalidad : Recepciones de 1P 4,9 y contexto migratorio’, Kronos Año 8 (2016), 9-33. 11 Gen. 19:5-7. 12 This is the case for John Chrysostom, Sermon 41 on Genesis; Maxim of Turin, Sermon 21; Cesar of Arles, Sermon 83; and Ambrose of Milano On Abraham I 5.32-43; among others. 13 These are some of Augustine’s sermons on hospitality: Sermon 11 on Elijah and the widow of Sarepta (1Kgs. 17:8-16); Sermon 103 on the hospitality of Martha and Mary (Lk. 10:38); Sermon 111 on the elected ones; Sermon 236 on the hospitality of the disciples of Emmaus (Lk. 24:13-31); and Treaty 58 on the washing of feet (Jn. 13:1-17). 9

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Is it possible to know that Augustine ignored completely the historical scope of the text on the theophany of Mamre? This seems unimaginable for us. Augustine is a man of his time: he cannot understand these biblical texts through a sociological prism of the twenty-first century. However, what we suggest here is that in these two texts on the theophany of Mamre, Augustine focuses on some theological aspects that have to do with hospitality or, more precisely, with philoxenia. In the following, we will point out a few developed aspects of both of Augustine’s texts that may be pertinent to our topic: the anthropological condition of the visitors, the use of the concept of hospitality, and the relationship between the three hypostases of the Trinity. The anthropological condition of the visitors and the concept of hospitality The first point Augustine mentions here relates to the anthropological condition of the three men. Were they angels? Was one of them Christ? According to Augustine, there is no contradiction in seeing that these men were indeed angels. He says in the first sentence of this chapter: ‘God appeared again to Abraham at the Oak of Mamre in the shape of three men, who, without doubt, were angels, although some people suppose that one of them was the Lord Christ – maintaining that he had to be visible even before he clothed himself in flesh.’14 Further on in the text, he declares: ‘That they were angels is the testimony of Scripture not only in this book of Genesis where these events are described, but also in the Epistle to the Hebrews, which says, when praising hospitality: ‘By this some men have entertained angels unawares’15 (Heb. 13:2). In addition, related to our concern is what surrounds the idea of hospitality: Hence it is much more likely that Abraham recognized the Lord in the persons of the three men, as also did Lot in the two, and that they spoke to him in the singular, even though they thought their visitors to be merely men. And their only reason for taking them in was to minister to their wants on the assumption that they were mortals in need of refreshment. But there was, we may be sure, something extraordinary about them, so that although they appeared as men, those who offered them hospitality could not doubt that the Lord was in them, as he is wont to be in the prophets. And this explains why their hosts sometimes addressed them in the plural and sometimes in the singular, to address the Lord in their persons.16

What is suggested is that it doesn’t matter that they were angels: what brought Abraham to be hospitable with the three men is their humanity. If we are talking about the prefiguration of the Incarnation through this theophany, we must understand that for Augustine, God was present through a human condition. Humankind must recognize this, just as Abraham recognized the true 14 Civit. Dei XVI 29. Quoted material is from David Knowles (ed.), The City of God (Baltimore, 1972). 15 Ibid. 16 Ibid.

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God through his humanity. Humanity does not reveal only Christ, but God in his entirety. The hospitality of Abraham was for God. So, by welcoming Christ through the poor and the stranger, we welcome God himself. This understanding can lead today’s Christians to embrace the challenges of migration: to offer hospitality as a sign that we recognize God in the humanity of the migrants. The relationship between the three hypostases of the Trinity As we said earlier, in the texts on the theophany of Mamre, the bishop of Hippo is not aware of considerations proper to a theology of migration. His concern is about the ‘messy’ use of the plural and the singular to talk about the three men, sometimes called ‘the Lord’. For Augustine, it is important to know whether it is a matter of Christophany or theophany. That was the issue in his time. Nevertheless, Augustine insists on seeing God as a whole in these three visitors – not just Christ, the one who talks, with the others being angels – when he asks why we don’t see the equality of the three persons of the Trinity (Trinitatis aequalitatem),17 because no one of the three is superior in age or power. To refer to the equality of the persons of the Trinity in this very passage on hospitality is amazing. It is as if Augustine knows that the love between the three hypostases is translated by the practice of hospitality in history, with hospitality from one human being toward another producing the same communion as that found in God. Augustine is anticipating an understanding of the Trinitarian relationship, with no subordination. This kind of understanding is fundamental for the kind of relationship that is commanded by the praxis of hospitality. The love for an ‘other’ being made concrete implies equality between the ones who are in relationship. With no equality, the relationship between the one who offers hospitality and the one who receives it may turn into a condescending form of charity. Instead, hospitality as divine love flowing as a gift of the Holy Spirit must lead to communion, just as Augustine understands a non-subordinate relationship among the three hypostases of the Trinity. That kind of understanding of the model of the Trinity guides what we can consider godly love relationships between human beings. The promise A promise is partly realized, with another part to be done, and the people of God are still on the move, looking for the accomplishment of the promise. ‘All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive 17 This is the Latin term Augustine uses to talk about the equality between the three persons of the Trinity. De Trin. II 11.20.

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the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth.’18 God’s promise happens when it is welcomed. The Christian understanding of the promise is Christ himself, who is God himself. So, to receive the promise means practicing hospitality toward him. This is the human interaction in the promise: offering hospitality to God through his theophany, through his Incarnation as the Son, and when he manifests himself in our day as marginalized – as one of the poorest, as an outcast, as the one for whom there is a preferential option in his favour. Going back to the text of the theophany of Mamre, the promise made to Abraham is reiterated by the visitors. The father of believers in the true and unique God receives the Lord, God, from the entrance of his tent – this shows that he’s still a nomad, a migrant with no land of his own, and no descendants. In other words, Abraham already has nothing of what God promised him when he left Haran. The hospitality he offers to the visitors reveals his faith, just as Rahab’s hospitality reveals hers.19 The three visitors reiterated the promise of descendants while they enjoyed Abraham’s hospitality. Theophany and hospitality in the days after the sack of Rome The main critique used against the Christians after the sack of Rome was this: Where was your God during the destruction of Rome? Why did he do nothing to stop the carnage? In other words, they criticize the absence of the God of the Christians in the time of the invasion by Alaric’s troops. Facing this accusation, Augustine answers that it was not the fault of the Christians, who abandoned the gods of Rome, but the pagans’ belief in their gods and immoral behaviour that caused Rome’s drastic fall.20 Moreover, he responds by focusing on a specific action of the Christians: their practice of hospitality to everyone who needed it. Augustine explains the truth of the God of the Christians through their actions, which is in itself ‘theophanic’. It is through practices of hospitality that God made himself present in history in Genesis 18:1-15, and we can extend this to the Incarnation in Christ.21 18

Heb. 11:13. ‘By faith the prostitute Rahab, because she welcomed the spies, was not killed with those who were disobedient’ (Heb. 11:31). 20 Civit. Dei I 1-4. 21 Incarnation in Christ is a bidirectional act of hospitality in itself, because through this humanization of the Son, God assumes the human condition until death on a cross, where humankind finds its own redemption and receives the plenitude of God’s hospitality. At the same time, this act of Incarnation calls humankind to welcome God into their world and their lives. This is where human beings are failing, but God’s mercy means that humans do not need to do something 19

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To set up the context in which the concept of hospitality emerges, we must see it as merging with another Augustinian notion that comes from another semantic field: Jus in bello (justice in war). For Augustine, the act of Christians opening up their basilicas to receive and protect civilians from the massacre contributes to establishing a kind of justice in the war – and, we should say, despite the war. Mattox22 highlights three criteria of justice in war: 1) proportionality, 2) discrimination, and 3) good faith. What he calls proportionality is that ‘all action taken in war should be limited by military necessity’.23 Discrimination is probably the most important aspect for us in terms of our reflections in this paper. Mattox says that it means ‘only one acting in the official capacity of a soldier is justified in performing the acts of violence associated with the profession of arms’24; it also involves the one who has taken up arms, the soldier, showing mercy and forbearance to captives and civilians.25 This last point is supremely important here, because through their hospitality, the Christians contribute to establishing a sort of justice in this war. Augustine himself mentions: The sacred places of the martyrs and the basilicas of the apostles bear witness to this, for in the sack of Rome they afforded shelter to fugitives, both Christian and pagan. The bloodthirsty enemy rage thus far, but here the frenzy of butchery was checked; to these refuges the merciful among the enemy conveyed those whom they had spared outside, to save them from encountering foes who had no such pity. Even men who elsewhere raged with all the savagery an enemy can show, arrived at places where practices generally allowed by laws of war were forbidden and their monstrous passion for violence was brought to sudden halt; their lust for taking captives was subdued.26

The last of the three criteria identified by Mattox is to have a good faith, which means to keep the promises made to the foes.27 The five criteria of Abraham’s hospitality at the oak of Mamre, which we highlighted in the first part of this paper, are shown by Augustine in the first chapters of The City of God, even though they are not shown systematically, and sometimes are implicit. The ‘go toward’ involves not just opening the doors of the basilica when someone knocks. It also means going toward refugees and war victims to offer them shelter in the basilica. It involves reciprocity – not just giving back for hospitality one has received in the past. Still, Augustine to receive God’s hospitality: God’s ultimate act of hospitality redeemed humankind on the cross. So, human hospitality – receiving each other just as if it was Christ himself – is the reciprocity expressed through an act of gratefulness toward God through the ones in whom he is incarnated today. 22 John Mark Mattox, Saint Augustine and the Theory of Just War (New York, 2006, 2008). 23 Ibid. 83. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid. 26 Civit. Dei I 1. 27 J.M. Mattox, Saint Augustine and the Theory of Just War (2006, 2008), 84.

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expected from pagans who received shelter an attitude of mercy and compassion toward Christians in the years that followed. Apparently, this did not happen, and that is the reason he wrote The City of God. The pagans’ breaking of the hospitality rule of reciprocity made room for one of the greatest works of the patristic era: The City of God. In the first sentences of this opus, Augustine says: From this world’s city there arise enemies against whom the City of God has to be defended, though many of these correct their godless errors and become useful citizens of that City. But many are inflamed with hate against it and feel no gratitude for the benefits offered by its Redeemer. The benefits are unmistakable; those enemies would not today be able to utter a word against the City if when fleeing from the sword of their enemy, they have not found, in the City’s holy places, the safety on which they now congratulate themselves. The barbarian spared them for Christ’s sake; and now these Romans assail Christ’s name.28

This passage also brings to light one of the other criteria of hospitality: the promise. Through their charitable actions, the Christians of Rome reveal Christ the Redeemer as the one who actually received the pagans. They are offering a promise of salvation for ‘right now’ and for eternal life. Some of the pagans rejected this salvation, while others accepted it through the Christians’ hospitality. We can see that hospitality is a privileged place to offer and receive God’s promise of his kingdom as he did in Genesis 18, starting from promising descendants to Sara and Abraham, which is the first step in building a kingdom. The sixth criterion of hospitality, to protect our guest, is also revealed in the passage quoted above. The less explicit act of hospitality, not mentioned in Augustine’s narrative on the sack of Rome, is common hospitality: giving someone food and a place to rest. Nothing is said about it, but we can legitimately assume that it was practiced at that time. What we highlighted from Augustine’s critique of the theophany of Mamre in On the Trinity are also present in the first chapters of The City of God. We evoked three aspects: the anthropological condition of the three visitors, the equality of the three hypostases of the Trinity, and the question of the promise. In The City of God I 1, the first two aspects mentioned above are coming together; they are translated in the Augustinian practical view of theology through the hospitality given in the basilica, where Christians were receiving Christ to see God through human beings. The ones that Christians receive are ‘equals’: ‘they [the Christians] afforded shelter to fugitives, both Christian and pagan.’29 Today, when we welcome someone, we are in an opposite paradigm to the one in which Abraham found himself. He first saw human beings, rather than God, but now the tendency is not to see a human being in the refugee. The 28 29

Civit. Dei I 1. Ibid.

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hosts see less than themselves in the other. The Augustinian perspective is a call to see a human being in the otherness, a human being as Christ was incarnated and as God appeared in the three visitors in the days of Abraham. This passage also has a very strong meaning from an interreligious perspective. The work of hospitality is equally promoted with both Christians and pagans. It is important in our current century to insist on that point, when resistance toward migrants is demagogically built on anti-Semitism and Islamophobia.30 To see the equality among peoples made the Christians open their doors ‘even’ to pagans. This drives us to the third aspect of Mattox’s, mentioned above: the promise. Through their works of hospitality, Christians reveal the kind of vivre ensemble that humanity is promised. This is the eschatological scope of the act of hospitality. It gives a double dimension to salvation: in earthly/historical terms, it is ‘already done’ through the work of divine love expressed in an act of hospitality, but at the same time it is not yet achieved, because it will only be in the plenitude of the kingdom that the saints will experience God’s hospitality in all its fullness. When in the earthly city, Christians show love to others by practicing hospitality, called philoxenia; they practice reciprocity by giving back for what they have received that was promised to them and eventually experience it in its fullness. God’s hospitality is not a reward for doing good works. Rather, the believer who has faith in this promise wants to give back, by living in reciprocity, what he or she will receive. This is where the themes of hospitality and predestination are connected in a theology of migration based on Augustine’s perspective on the practice of hospitality.

30 Here, we do not deny the existence of hatred against Christians that is found in the world. We simply point out the attitude of Christians.

Love and creatio, conversio, formatio in Augustine of Hippo Tamara SAETEROS PÉREZ, Sergio Arboleda University, Bogotá, Colombia

ABSTRACT1 This article extracts the consequences of the Augustinian reflection on Genesis. Based on the analysis of his comments on the creation account through literal, allegorical and spiritual interpretation, the study emphasizes that Augustine elaborates an original metaphysical scheme that constitutes beings in their existential becoming and that, in addition, serves as a key of valid reading of his own understanding of finite being. Such a scheme is that of creatio, conversio, formatio. Taking the said triad as the central axis of the exposition, we proceed to a progressive deepening of the stages of the phenomenon and the search for its ultimate foundation: the pondus amoris, particularly in free agents. On the one hand, the ontological phenomenon of creatio, conversio, formatio is studied, enriching its understanding with the contribution of the images with which Augustine thinks and transmits it, framing it coherently in the ontological dimensions of modus, species and ordo. On the other hand, these reflections lead to the identification of the analogical category of ordo with amor, with its specific weight, which marks the tendency of spiritual creatures – mainly – but also of the rest of creation, which thus returns to its origin and reaches peace, understood as ‘tranquility of order’, as quiet and loving rest. Consequently, the Augustinian scheme of creatio, conversio, formatio, is discovered to be based on the pondus amoris, and thus a metaphysics of creation is constructed that allows us to glimpse more clearly what it is to be a creature and who is its Maker.

Introduction The Word (of God) is always united to the Father, and by Him the Father says all things eternally, not by the sound of a voice, nor by a thinking process that passes in time, but by the light of His Wisdom born of Himself, and coeternal with Himself. This imperfection (of the creature) only imitates the form of the Word, always immutable and united to the Father, when it, according to its ability, turns to the One who truly and always 1 This contribution presents my doctoral dissertation, recently published by Ciudad Nueva. Tamara Saeteros, Amor y conversión en san Agustín. San Agustín de Hipona y sus comentarios al Génesis (Madrid, 2019). I would like to thank the kindness of Dr. Carol Harrison, who chaired my session and gave me her valuable comments on my thesis.

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 213-225. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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exists, that is, it takes the form and becomes a perfect creature, when addressing the Creator of its own substance.2

With these words Augustine of Hippo, the great African convert, presents a metaphysical scheme that allows us to understand the constitution of finite beings and their existential becoming. So it can be affirmed that, for Augustine, the repeated attempts of exegesis and its speculations about the Genesis story are the occasion of the emergence of the creatio, conversio, formatio scheme, understood as successive stages that configure every created entity.3 With this procedure, Augustine is heir to one of the most rooted concerns in ancient philosophy. Indeed, considerations about the origin of beings already had a particular interest for the Neoplatonic tradition. Plotinus, specifically, spoke of an overflow of the Principle from which the beings were generated that later would ‘turn’ (epistrophé) towards him to be definitively configured.4 Also for Augustine, although with typically Christian nuances, created beings – particularly spiritual ones – must return to their beginning for their formation.5 This scheme is studied in depth each time that Augustine develops his doctrine of the genesis of the real in the different comments on Genesis that he wrote which are, in chronological order: De Genesi contra manichaeos (388-389),6 De Genesi ad litteram imperfectus liber (393), Confessiones, books XI-XIII (397401), De Genesi ad litteram (401-414), as well as books XI and XII (417-418) of his work De civitate Dei. The fact of having chosen to undertake the analysis of this phenomenon and the progressive understanding that has been forged from it, has immediately raised the question about its foundation, as well as the attempt to seek it in love, a notion widely developed by the so-called Charity Doctor. For this reason, it has been necessary to carry out a study like the present, in which the transcendent role of the direction of the love of the spiritual creature is considered for the resolution of the conversio in formatio or deformatio; and how in love are rooted the different movements that lead to the final rest of the created in God. The objective of this work has been, for all the aforementioned, to determine this relationship of love with the phenomenon of creatio, conversio, formatio, from the corpus Augustinianum, attending with special predilection a specific set of works that seem to have remained obscured over the centuries. This choice makes it possible, with freedom, to use the aid that many important 2 Augustine of Hippo, De genesi ad litteram 1, 4, 9, Ed. BAC (Madrid, 19692). Special thanks to Professor Carlos Domínguez, who helped me with the translation of all the quotations and of the first draft of this article. 3 See T. Saeteros, Amor y conversión en san Agustín (2019), 23. 4 Ibid. 9. 5 Roland Teske, ‘Augustine and the concepts of creatio, conversio and formatio. A Systematic Presentation of Augustine Thought’, Theological Studies 53 (1992), 748-9. 6 See id., ‘El Homo spiritales en el De Genesi contra Manichaeos’, Augustinus 36 (1991), 305-10.

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passages of the entire corpus provide in many moments and, at the same time, maintain as a main point of reference the great work of De Genesi ad litteram,7 and the antecedent and subsequent environment that is constituted by the other four Augustinian comments on Genesis mentioned above. As for the methodology of work followed, it is basically that of classical hermeneutics: careful reading of the texts, reflections and interpretation of them, confrontations with various approaches to this theme developed throughout the life of the Bishop of Hippo, the indispensable dialogue with the preceding tradition: Plato,8 Aristotle,9 Plotinus … and with that of the great interpreters after Augustine: Anselm of Canterbury, Bonaventure of Bagnoregio and Thomas Aquinas, for some specific clarifications. In the same way, modern commentators have been consulted – with some of whom, such as Teske, Ancilla, Pegueroles, Anoz, among others … it has even been possible to establish a live, face-to-face or epistolary dialogue – whose investigations have prepared the optimal ground to develop the present reflections. The status quaestionis in the framework of Augustinian studies As a starting point, and in order to precise the matter and its relevance in the current state of Augustinian studies, an exhaustive literature review was carried out, which also included the search of the following databases: – – – – – – – – – – –

Arts & Humanities Citation Index (New ISI XML) CSIC Database. ISOC – Humanities and Social Sciences Dialnet JSTOR II JSTOR III Keesing’s World News Archive Periodicals Index Online. PIO (ProQuest) Philosopher Index (CSA) (ProQuest XML) RACO (Catalan Journals in Open Access) Social Sciences Citation Index (New ISI XML) Sociological Abstracts (CSA) (ProQuest XML)

The investigation in these databases generated about 9766 results, responding to different combinations of searches, both by title and subject, author, etc.; 7 ‘A work unattended in the Castilian bibliography from the invention of the printing press to the few studies carried out since 1957, the year in which the BAC presents the translation of the work’, T. Saeteros, Amor y conversión en san Agustín (2019), 9-11. 8 See e.g. the concept of regio dissimilitudinis in Politicus 273d-e and Theaetetus 185b-c. 9 Virgilio Pacioni pointed out that the category of ‘ordo’ is for Augustine as ‘being’ was for Aristotle. See Virgilio Pacioni, ‘Orden’, in Allan Fitzgerald (ed.), Diccionario de san Agustín. San Agustín a través del tiempo (Burgos, 2001), 964-6.

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these data were revised, valued and contrasted, locating those closest to the topic of interest; all with the purpose of elaborating a careful status quaestionis. The result that was reached with this research could be summarized as follows: the theme of the fall and the return of the soul, formulated in this way or with the aforementioned scheme, has been addressed by some contemporary scholars. Among them, we can highlight the contributions of the Catalan philosopher J. Pegueroles (publications between 1971-1974),10 of the American scholar R. O’Connell (articles between 1963 and 1973),11 of the medievalist and American philosopher R. Teske (Translations into English of De Genesi contra manichaeos and De Genesi ad litteram imperfectus liber from 1990 and articles from 1980 onwards),12 of the French philosopher and theologian MarieAnne Vannier (1991),13 of the renowned Spanish Augustinian José Oroz Reta (1997),14 of the Italian philosopher Craig John Neumann de Paulo (2002)15 and of the Mexican Augustinian Enrique Eguiarte (2008).16 However, these studies do not deal with the central theme from the perspective of the study that is being developed here. In addition, it was necessary to know the state of the studies on the Augustinian commentary on Genesis: De Genesi ad litteram, as it is the guiding work of the interpretation proposed in this investigation. What could be verified in this regard is that this work has only two Spanish translations without notes and very few interpretative studies, which are reduced to the introductions to the work made by Balbino Martín Pérez (translator of the 1969 edition of the BAC, the second of this publishing house) and Claudio Calabrese (translator of the 2006 edition of EUNSA), according to Rafael Lazcano’s bibliographic compilation entitled: Bibliografía de San Agustín en lengua española. The importance of this compilation is evident, taking into account that it covers all the Spanish publications from 1502 to 2006, which constitutes it as an obligatory reference 10 Juan Pegueroles, ‘La formación o iluminación en la metafísica de san Agustín’, Espíritu 20.2 (1971), 134-49; ‘El ser y el tiempo, la forma y la materia. Síntesis de la metafísica de san Agustín’, Pensamiento 28/110 (1972), 165-91; ‘La conversión de la materia a la forma: notas de metafísica agustiniana’, Espíritu 23.1 (1974), 53-65. 11 Robert O’Connell, ‘The Plotinian Fall of the Soul in St. Augustine’, Traditio 19 (1963), 1-35; id., ‘Augustine’s Rejection of the Fall of the Soul’, Augustinian Studies 4 (1973), 1-32. 12 R. Teske, ‘Augustine and the concepts of creatio, conversio and formation’ (1992), 748-9; ‘Images of conversion in Saint Augustine’s Confessions’, Theological Studies 58 (1998), 160-1; ‘Saint Augustine and the Fall of the Soul: Beyond O’Connell and His Critics’, Catholic Historical Review 93 (2007), 609-10. 13 Marie-Anne Vannier, ‘Creatio’, ‘Conversio’, ’Formatio’ chez Saint Augustin (Fribourg, 19972). Her thesis was defended in 1991. 14 José Oroz Reta, ‘Formación y conversión. Reflexiones sobre la doctrina de San Agustín’, Revista Agustiniana 115.6/38 (1997), 595-630. 15 Craig Neumann de Paulo, ‘Ser y conversión. Ensayo de fenomenología agustiniana’, Augustinus 47 (2002), 111-54. 16 Enrique Eguiarte, ‘La dinámica de la conversión en los escritos antimaniqueos de Agustín’, Augustinus 208-209/LIII (2008), 7-23.

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to establish the possibilities of new contributions in the field of Augustinian studies in Spanish.17 Regarding the studies on De Genesi contra manichaeos, De Genesi ad litteram imperfectus liber and De Genesi ad litteram, Lazcano collects very few works, which focus on topics such as creation, the concept of substance, the anthropology developed in the comments on Genesis, the nature and cultivation of the earth, the illumination, and the figure of the devil.18 With this panorama in mind, the focus of this new research is proposed, based on the initial conviction that metaphysical conversion is – in the most solid background – a matter of love; that is, in Augustinian terms, what is called ordo amoris. Hence, the perspective of this study aims to highlight the ontological weight of love as a determinant of the phenomenon from beginning to end, as presented in the comments to Augustine’s Genesis and in many other texts of his extensive work. On the other hand, it should be added, from a convergent perspective, that this work of unraveling the fundamental relationship between love and creatio, conversio, formatio has only been treated tangentially in some articles that, in addition, have only incised the amor–creatio relationship (1962)19 or amor– conversio (1986)20 and it has not been put in relation to the entire phenomenon, as previously mentioned. Once the careful reading of the Augustinian texts and the enrichment of the dialogue with tradition corroborated the existence of such a scheme of creatio, conversio, formatio in the work of the Bishop of Hippo and his particular emergence in the comments to Genesis, it was a must to read the doctoral thesis of Marie-Anne Vannier that addresses this triad from a general perspective. The opportunity to make then a significant contribution in the context of the Augustinian studies was given by the reading of a review of Vannier’s work, in which the lack of treatment of the topic of charity21 was pointed out, as well as an adequate textual demonstration of the emergence of the scheme of creatio, conversio, formatio, of the work of the Doctor of Grace.22 17 For the search of the entire written literature on Augustine in all languages, the updated page of the Zentrum für Augustinusforschung in Würzburg: Augustinus-Literaturdatenbank, was taken into account. Available at http://www.augustinus.konkordanz.de/, as well as the bibliographic collection of the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven and Villanova University. Available in: http:// www.findingaugustine.org/. 18 Cf. Rafael Lazcano, Bibliografía de san Agustín en lengua española (1502–2006) (Madrid, 2007), 188-90. 19 Rodolfo De Roux Guerrero, ‘El amor creador según san Agustín’, Ecclesiastica Xaveriana 12 (1962), 3-41. 20 Francisco Galende Fincias, ‘La conversión y el amor en la experiencia y percepción agustiniana’, Peregrino 8/8 (1986), 22-6. 21 See Sœur Marie-Ancilla, O.P., ‘Review of Marie-Anne Vannier, ‘Creatio’, ‘conversio’, ‘formatio’ chez saint Augustin’, Revue Thomiste 93 (1993), 513-4. 22 See Goulven Madec, ‘Review of Vannier Marie-Anne, ‘Creatio’, ‘conversio’, ‘formatio’ chez saint Augustin’, Revue des Études Augustiniennes 38.1 (1992), 447-8.

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This is how, on the one hand, the progressive deepening of the Augustinian doctrine of love (a subject repeatedly addressed by scholars throughout the past century, highlighting the doctoral thesis of Hannah Arendt – 1929 –, which understands the conversio as an original structure) and, on the other hand, the systematization of the triad creatio, conversio, formatio carried out by Vannier in her doctoral thesis of 1991, allowed to place myself at the crossroads of these two paths undertaken to collect the essential indications and continue deepening the intuitions with the aim of – in the specific case of this study – looking for its intrinsic and fundamental relationship, leading the reader to a more complete understanding of creatio, conversio, formatio and discovering their driving force in love. In addition, it has been sought to build the phenomenon of conversio ad Deum, in its total deployment in creatio, conversio, formatio, as a way of understanding an Augustinian metaphysics of creation and propose this scheme as a valid reading key of Augustine’s main concern about the origin of beings and their return to the Principle, developed throughout his life, in his preaching and works. Hence, those words of Hannah Arendt are deeply inspiring: ‘We have seen that the return to the Creator is the original structural determination of the creature’s being’.23 Development In order to progressively deepen the central phenomenon of creatio, conversio, formatio and its common thread that is love, my work presents a tripartite structure that imitates the proceeding of the phenomenon itself. In this sense, the first part shows each of the stages of the phenomenon; the second, returns to each one of the phases extracting its metaphysical and existential consequences and, finally, the third part leads to the final consolidation of the discourse by further revealing its foundation. In turn, each of these three parts consists of three chapters that will be discussed in detail. The first part describes the metaphysical constitution of the finite being according to Augustine in the three terms of the triad: creatio, conversio, formatio. Through creatio, there is a call of Being, which according to the Augustinian conception consists of a first production of the formless, material and spiritual matter, coming from nothing and waiting for formation. This call occurs in the Word, in which God pronounces all the things he wants to create. At the time of this call, says Augustine, there is an intrinsic natural tendency to imitate the Word, which lets out of the informity and leads to formation. 23

Hannah Arendt, El concepto de amor en san Agustín (Madrid, 2009), 108.

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While God is Love and Goodness, his action spreads this same imprint in his own work, endowing the universe with order, harmony and beauty. The Genesis story expresses God’s satisfaction in contemplating his creatures that are good, even more, Augustine continues, he is pleased to receive the response that his outpouring of love raises. In this way man and, in general, the spiritual creature – once called to being – are also called to turn to Him, but the interesting thing is, that in this round, they are not only able to respond for their own existence, that it is ontologically constituted in a different way from the one that remains in the informity of the aversion, but they can also, by the mediation of their knowledge and their love, turn and direct the conversio of everything created towards its Lord. Thus, the implicit glory paid to God in the perfect execution of the office that the existing and the living unconsciously perform in the universe is made explicit by the contemplants.24 Sin that follows the proud excess of the creatural modus both in the devil and in man leads us to analyze, in the second chapter, the possibility of conversio, as a return to Being. In the case of the superior spiritual creatures, the illumination or communication of the species from God in the angelic mind – receptive ontological moment of the creation of the angel – is without shadows; therefore, in turn, the active ontological moment does not admit fissures: the adhesion or rejection of the creational gift and of God himself is in the angel an irreversible decision. This gives rise to only two possibilities: either conversio or aversio. On the other hand, in the human being it is verified that its election of adhesion or rejection of the Good is not unique, but it is taking shape through multiple decisions, made during the path of its existence in this world of appearances, of real shadows, until it contemplates the Truth without veils and its adhesion is full and without fainting. This state may well be called: reconversio. And to close the first part, the third chapter explains the formatio as the rest in the Being. Thanks to the work that God is doing in his creature, to his enlightenment … he prepares it to fulfill its desire and invites it to enter his rest, goal and end of creation days. On that day, without evening or sunset, the creature will delight in the contemplation of its Creator and its adherence to Him will be definitively confirmed. Seen from this perspective, the formatio is the goal of the creative process. In this sense, Vannier emphasizes that the formatio is always carried out from 24 This idea, which is found in Augustine, as it will be possible to demonstrate verbatim (see Part II, chap. 6 exultar, at El cántico nuevo); the great Augustinian Anselm continues, when he praises the Mother of God for having collaborated in the redemption; more specifically: through her, creatures enjoy serving the redeemed since these, finally, serve their Creator. ‘A new, invaluable grace has made them jump with joy’ (Nova autem et inaestimabili gratia quasi exultaverunt). See Anselm of Canterbury, Oraciones y meditaciones, 7, II (Madrid, 1953).

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a state of informity.25 But, as one can see, not everything works like this in the world: man receives his formatio as a man, so it is what it is, which indicates its essence (which is called prima formatio) … but it can aspire to be more completely (secunda formatio). Indeed, he is called to fill the measure of his essence in the distentio of his own soul in the time of life that he has for his pilgrimage to God. As a result of all these considerations, the weight of love is seen as the decisive cause of the failure or triumph of the wills created to their expected adhesion to the vocatio by the Creator. This is how reflections on creation naturally lead Augustine himself, to promise a treatise on this split caused by a love that is capable, even, of bringing together many for the achievement of his object of dilection. Said treaty shall be entitled, indeed: De civitate Dei. The second part of the thesis shows the same metaphysical scheme of the first: creatio, conversio, formatio, through some images chosen to illustrate the stages and thus lead them to their full understanding. It is intended that, as in a mirror, the image presented is a faithful reflection of a theoretical construct present in the thinking and teaching of the Bishop of Hippo. This second part also consists of three chapters that revolve around the three moments of the studied phenomenon, represented by three verbs of existential and interior movement. Thus, the creatio finds its concretion in the real conditions of the intramundane existence, according to which man is, like Ulysses, far from his homeland and in tension to return. In addition, the fertile platonic image of the regio dissimilitudinis has an interesting development in the philosophy of the Bishop of Hippo. In the logic of divine love, so different from human behavior, it can be seen how the distance that occurs in this region is saved by God himself, who narrows in himself the two separate terms to facilitate the union between unlike and similar itself, the perfect form of the Father. Finally, the considerations about the created existence are closed by sending it to the Being from which it comes, the One that is. Before Him, the sublime ‘is’, every other being is hierarchically ordered, but also, by his name of mercy, a bridge is laid so that the creature can have access to Him. In the next chapter, the convert’s attitude is exemplified in his walking, with ups and downs, but always driven by the weight of his love and attracted by the end marked in his nature. In this line, every convert must be a true passer through, one who is ordering with justice the love for the created and the love for himself, driven by the desire of the joy of God. 25

See M.-A. Vannier, ‘Creatio’, ‘Conversio’, ‘Formatio’ (19972), 109.

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In continuity with Plato26 and Plotinus,27 and advancing a little further, Augustine explains his understanding of the wings of the soul, which for him refer to the two fundamental precepts of love. Failure to practice prevents them from flying, but regaining love for God and others unleashes it.28 Indeed, both dimensions of love give fullness to the phenomenon of the conversio, then, as Neumann de Paulo points out: ‘The conversio is the conversion of the ontological direction of man towards his eternal orientation, God, and towards his temporal orientation, the neighbor’.29 In the last chapter of this second part, Augustine’s metaphysical optimism is once again appreciated, for whom the pilgrim cannot stop exulting, moved by the inner joy that the hope of contemplating the Beloved produces, the joy that follows the conversion and that season the daily effort to convert. The Augustinian images of the new song are around this experience, and only the new man can sing it; the face of God: hope of the present life and prize of the future; the figure of Christ as a lamb that converts wolves, which verifies the possibility of a universal transformation; and also the elevation of the heart, thanks to the determination of its object. This second part closes with the images that adequately show the metaphysical landscape of the finite free entities before our understanding: what is created, fallen and is being raised. Through all these images, as a guiding thread, an important element emerges in this investigation and in the thought of the bishop of Hippo: the weight of love. This makes it convenient to enter the third part, to elucidate what love is for the Doctor of Charity and its decisive influence on the constitution of free agents. In the third part, the fundamental considerations for the understanding of the concept of love in Augustine are studied in order to determine, on this basis, the ontological weight that it has in the realization of each of the constituent stages of the finite entity: creatio, conversio, formatio. In the first chapter, it is found convenient to identify what the object of love is, and if it can be reached, through a thoughtful love of several objects to the delight of one that is sought through them. The four forms of love that Augustine contemplates: love of God, love of neighbor, love of self and love of the world, can be understood from the phenomenon of creatio, conversio, formatio, which once again ratifies the interpretation chosen for the analysis of his thought.

26

See Plato, Phaedrus, 246c. See Plotinus, Enneads, II 9, 3, 18. 28 On the occasion of the commentary to Psalm 103, Augustine says that whoever puts God’s precepts into practice has good wings. However, despite the adornment of charity, God is always superior in love, for he far exceeds the love that man can give him. ‘Our wings are our charity, but God walks on the wings of the winds’. See En. in ps. 103, 13 (PL 37, 1346-8). 29 See C. Neumann de Paulo, ‘Ser y conversión’ (2002), 136. 27

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Of these four objects of dilection, I emphasize the Augustinian vision regarding self-love, often problematic because of the danger of overflowing until the contempt of God, but which can also serve to recognize the divine work in one’s being. When considering oneself the workmanship of His hands, it is possible to return to oneself and to love oneself correctly in the denial of what in oneself is found unlike, in order to conform to the Form to which one wishes to make way in one’s own existence. The great interest of the considerations about love to the world is also worth mentioning. Augustine values the world in its right measure and also talks about its conversio and formatio. The Bishop of Hippo shows in his works that the return of everything created to the Creator is possible thanks to the spiritual creatures. These, in their conversio, by which they redirect their love towards God and order all other love and relationship with the world, and in their final formatio in which the image of God obscured by sin is restored … they return the creature to the One who made it: both the creature that is the same man, as all those equal and inferior to him. While it is true that creatures are already well made from the first day of their creation, it is possible that they could be sublimated and even more raised from the current state of fall – to which they were dragged by the imbalance introduced by man in the world – to the fullness of their being, through which, finally, they can serve for what they were created: to help the intelligent creature in view of its transmundane union. The second chapter analyzes, separately, each of the phases of the metaphysical constitution of beings created in light of the Augustinian categories of modus, species, ordo, which inform and go through all reality, which is why they are present also in their own dynamism, in the occurrence of their existential becoming. Delving into the metaphysical structure of beings, Augustine discovers that they participate in the mode, species and order of which God is a source according to their own mode, the condition of their species and the tendency towards their place within an established order that respects their same intrinsic laws of constitution and operation. Therefore, their performance in the creative process is verified, while the beings exist as modus, species and ordo subsist in them. Nor does the conversio escape this configuration, since the formless matter always turns according to its mode, takes the form or species created and tends to turn to its Creator by the movement of the ordo. In this sense, the aversio may well be characterized by a deficiency of order. For what it falls back again in the ordo amoris. This is how, in this continuing tension to avoid turning away from God (ab eo) and not turning messily towards the created (ad id), the converted man fights against the deficiency of the natural order of love, seeking to participate more of the Good, to fulfill and fill its own measure, to make his species to

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resemble that of the Word, a model par excellence, and thus to reach the desired rest of his restlessness. Finally, the third chapter concludes with the assessment of the ontological weight of love in the entire process of creatural configuration. This deduction was reached through the preceding analysis of the categories of modus, species and ordo, which revealed how, in the thinking of Augustine, the primacy is in order. Then, thanks to an exhaustive collection of the most significant passages of De Genesi ad litteram, it was shown that, indeed, love is at the base of the creatural movement, which definitely allows an original metaphysical characterization of the being created by God in that work of the six days that culminates in a seventh, day of rest, goal and cause of the love tendency. Conclusion I would like to recapitulate and conclude by exposing the results obtained in this research. In the first place, the initial conviction, which affirmed that metaphysical conversion would be, essentially, a matter of love, has been fully ratified in this study and extended to all the constituent stages of being. Indeed, love is at the origin of the movement of exitus and reditus in which the created existence consists. This is so because the Love of God creates a good and loved world for Him, delivers love and arouses love. The expected return of the free creature does not imply a ‘denial of created existence’, but a true affirmation of it. For when the spiritual creature, going through everything created, including itself, rises30 and tends towards God, its being ‘is not absorbed, does not dissolve, but precisely when surrendering becomes fully’31 itself, hence the individuality that was dissolved in the Neoplatonic emanatio is saved. Love has also shown to be decisive in the conversion, while Augustine makes it very clear that it is a weight that transports towards the natural place of affection. More radically, the loving decision of the spiritual creatures is the one that produces the split of the famous two cities. And, since love transforms the lover, it is the one which definitely forms the creature to the same extent that its disorderly love leaves it in the deformity of an existence that remains in darkness. In addition, the formatio naturally leads, thanks to the order, to the achievement of the rest of the movement of the creature. 30

It is interesting to point out here the possibility of studying the term sursumactio which will be consacrated by Bonaventure and to be applied to the reditio of creation. 31 See Joseph Ratzinger, El espíritu de la liturgia. Una introducción (Madrid, 2012), 18-9.

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Secondly, the effort to properly characterize the phenomenon has contributed to forging, from Augustine, a terminology and a set of images endowed with a deep metaphysical and existential burden, which allow to refer appropriately to the ineffability of this mystery of the divine and creatural freedom. This is how creatio responds to a divine vocatio. As for the conversio, it manifests itself in man as a reconversio and is directed towards a resurrectio, in which his own body will obey the tendency of his love and serve his reformed spirit in a new way. For its part, the formatio – for the specific case of the temporary and injured creature – manifests itself as reformatio, which follows the decision for the conversio. Thanks to this thorough analysis, the existential coordinates in which man’s tension towards God develops are clear. Human beings are called to advance from the distance in which they can find themselves in their existence with respect to the Creator. They are pilgrim walkers who go to a lost homeland, but which do not stop exercising an irresistible force of attraction. And, finally, they are exultant, because they walk this path with a joy that gives a new flavor to the daily struggle for the reconversio. Thirdly, the theoretical considerations of the first part and the existential images of the second, contributed to clearly manifest the configurative and foundational role of love in the whole process of creatural becoming. Created, converted and formed – according to a mode, species and order – this conception implies an important valuation of the creature itself. If, indeed, God loves order because it is good and because it indicates a perfection that constitutes all nature, He also loves the proper place he has assigned to each of his creatures. Only in the execution of the divine will with respect to itself, the creature will adapt perfectly to its place in the universal order and to the happiness that gives the tranquility of the order that is its peace. Fourth, it can also be added that, from the point of view of the methodology and the circumscription of the subject, the preference for Augustinian comments on Genesis obtained good results. Among them I point out: 1. Textually it demonstrated the emergence of the scheme of creatio, conversio, formatio in the understanding that Augustine has of the creative process. 2. It adequately framed the phenomenon in the categories of modus, species, ordo. 3. And, finally, it provided the definitive thesis that is sustained here; namely: that all beings are created according to a mode, species and order, are converted according to these categories, and are formed in this dimension; they have their own dynamism that leads them from beginning to end throughout their ontological evolution. This dynamism is the Augustinian discovery of creatio, conversio, formatio … and the engine that triggers this movement is love as a tendency, as a pondus, that directs the creature until its final resolution to truly turn to God, its beginning and end.

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Fifth, it was also possible to verify that creatio, conversio, formatio can be enshrined as a valid reading key when it comes to unveiling the meaning of all of Augustine’s concerns for commenting on Genesis. In this way, the praxis of love by free agents solves the existential problem of creatio, conversio, formatio and configures beings in their final rest. I finish applying this reading key designed by Augustine himself to unravel in a new way the richness of the famous phrase of the beginning of his Confessions: Quia fecisti nos ad te, et inquietum est cor nostrum, donec requiescat in te.32 The great experience and teaching of Augustine explicitly states that man is created by God through and with love; that is why God makes it for Himself and imprints on his creature the nostalgia to return. Thanks to this, his heart is always restless, oscillating between aversio and conversio. A movement that will find its rest in the peace of the Sabbath, by which the love received has aroused love and returned configurational love. At the end of the days of creation, Love is contemplated: the creature and its Creator.

32

Augustine of Hippo, Confessions 1, 1, 1 (PL 32, 661).

Continence as Mystagogue. Divine Motherhood in the Conversion of Augustine Kitty BOUWMAN, Titus Brandsma Instituut, Nijmegen, The Netherlands

ABSTRACT In Confessions we found expressions of divine motherhood in relation to Augustine’s conversion to Christian faith. With these expressions Augustine puts us on the track of an inclusive reality of God that encompasses divine motherhood. The personification of Continence appeared as a mother during Augustine’s conversion. He described her as the Lord’s spouse. She personified divine acts by offering him Christ’s law. In doing so she broke through the opposition in him between the ‘flesh’ and the ‘spirit’, initiating him into God’s light. She did not urge him toward sexual abstinence, but toward a life according to the law of the Spirit which brings life in Jesus Christ. This law is founded on the law of Moses but also that of Wisdom. With the repetition of aperire the connection became clear between Continence’s manifestation and the events that followed – the opening of the Holy Scripture, his surrender to God and the reward of spiritual son ship.

Introduction: Divine Motherhood of Continence When talking about the conversion of Augustine, soon the child’s voice comes up that sang: Tolle, lege: pick it up and read. Then Augustine opens the Bible and reads a text of Paul calling on him to put on the robe of Christ. But then another figure is ignored, whom Augustine calls on surrender to her Lord. He indicates her as Continence, self-control. Augustine presents Continence as a divine mother of children in Confessions; she is the Lord’s spouse (Conf. 8.11.27). This description of a divine couple is unique in Christianity, but comments pay no attention to that.1 Who is Continence? Some authors associate Continence with Monnica, the mother of Augustine.2 Other authors think that Augustine’s communication 1 James O’Donnell, Augustine Confessions III, Commentary on Books 8-13 (Oxford, 1992), 53-4; Anton van Hooff, ‘Die Dialektik der Umkehr’, in N. Fischer et al. (eds), Die Confessiones des Augustinus von Hippo, Einführung und Interpretationen zu den 13 Büchern (Freiburg a.o. 2004), 375. 2 Anne Marie Bowery, ‘Monica: The Feminine Face of Christ’, in Judith Stark (ed.), Feminist Interpretations of Saint Augustine (Philadelphia, PA, 2007), 69-95. The identification of Continence

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 227-242. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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with Continence is a conversation with himself.3 Is she the female Wisdom, who has her residence in heaven? Did he model her on Mother Wisdom, the fruitful mother in the Book Jesus Sirach (Sir. 24). Augustine must have known the book Wisdom of Jesus Sirach, because it was particularly popular in the early Christian Church. This is reflected in the name: ecclesiasticus (Church book). This name is due to the fact that it was often used in the teaching of catechumens.4 Augustine was a catechumen for a long time. Divine Motherhood and Spiritual Motherhood Augustine places images of motherhood in the foreground to understand his life and his conversion. Based on maternal experience, he tells how he was initiated into his relationship with God. He writes about his mother Monnica, who brought him into contact with the Christian faith.5 He also writes about Continence, who calls on him to surrender himself to God. According to the philosopher Bowery, Continence is identical with Monnica. In her pure dignity without dissolute cheerfulness, the personification Continence evokes associations with Monnica.6 Although Augustine presents Monnica as a pure and modest widow (Conf. 5.9.17), he does not describe her as the wife of the Lord but of Patricius (Conf. 9.13.37). Her motherhood belongs to the earth. The motherhood of Continence belongs to the reality of God. In my study, I make a distinction between concepts of divine motherhood and spiritual motherhood. Motherly personifications expressing the reality of God point to divine motherhood. Motherly persons on earth, who mediate between God and humankind, indicate spiritual motherhood.7 I approach Continence as a divine mother, because of her relationship with the Lord. with Monnica can also be found in Virginia Burrus and Catherine Keller, ‘Confessing Monica’, in ibid., 119-45. 3 Volker Henning Drecoll, Die Entstehung des Gnadenlehre Augustins (Tübingen, 1999), 321; Romano Guardini, Die Bekehrung des Aurelius Augustinus. Der innere Vorgang in seinen Bekenntnissen (Leipzig, 1935), 240-3. 4 Panc Beentjes, De wijsheid van Jesus Sirach (Budel, 2006). The book Wisdom of Jesus Sirach was translated from Greek into Latin in early Christianity, causing it to spread. Greek writers such as Clement of Alexandria and Origen, and Latin writers such as Tertullian and Augustine quoted from the Book of Wisdom by Jesus Sirach. Daniel Harrington, ‘Wijsheid van Jezus Sirach’, in Erik Eynikel et al. (eds), Internationaal Commentaar op de Bijbel, Deel 2 (Kampen, 2001), 1069. 5 Kitty Bouwman, ‘Spiritual Motherhood of Monnica – Two Mothers in the Life of Saint Augustine’, Studies in Spirituality 29 (2019), 49-69. 6 Anne Marie Bowery, ‘Monica: The Feminine Face of Christ’ (2007), 85. 7 In my dissertation, I have made a distinction between divine motherhood and spiritual motherhood. Personifications of divine motherhood (Continence, Wisdom, Christ, Holy Spirit) belong to the reality of God; persons (Maria, Monnica, Paul) and forms (Church, Holy Scriptures) of spiritual motherhood are associated with the earth and in relation with God. See

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Divine Motherhood and Mystagogy The idea that mystagogy and motherhood are somehow related to each other is not obvious to us, people of the twenty-first century. We find this connection with early Christian writers, and that is also the case in the works of Augustine. When we talk about motherhood, it is often about stereotypical qualities. We find this writings of male authors, including Augustine. He attributes stereotypical qualities to God, whom he describes as a father and a mother: He (the psalmist) had made himself a little child in relation to God. He made God both father and mother. God is our father because he created us, because he calls us, gives orders, and rules us; he is our mother because he cherishes us, nourishes us, feeds us with milk, and holds us in his arms’ (En.Ps. 26, 2, 18).8

In this passage, Augustine separately associates the divine parents with acts that are typical of a mother and a father. These stereotypical actions complement each other. He uses these maternal acts to supplement the masculine function of God. But Augustine not only attributes the soft qualities to divine motherhood. At the description of his conversion, we also find her hard side, which takes shape in the divine mother Continence. He describes her in his conversion. There she took an outside position in relation to his inner self. She did not function as a midwife who was helping, waiting, and presenting herself, so that Augustine would discover eternal values in his inner self. Unlike a midwife, who assists the disciple in giving birth to insights that are present in the soul, she confronted him with his concupiscence in which he was imprisoned. Thereby she caused a break in his old existence, which led to a re-creation beyond his human possibilities. This renewal came from the reality of God. In this article, I investigate the function of the divine motherhood of Continence in Augustine’s conversion in relation to mystagogy: initiation into the mysteries of God. In Christian spirituality, these mysteries are connected with contents of Christian belief. To what extent Continence had initiated Augustine into Christian belief? What was her function in his conversion?

Kitty Bouwman, Mater Sapientia, Mystagogische functie van het moederschap van God en het geestelijke moederschap bij Augustinus [Mater Sapientia, Mystagogical Function of Motherhood of God and Spiritual Motherhood in Augustine], PhD Dissertation, University of Utrecht, 2015. 8 En.Ps. 26, 2, 18 (CChr.SL 38, 164): Fecit se parvulum; ipsum fecit patrem, ipsum fecit matrem. Pater est, quia condidit, qui vocat, quia iubet, quia regit; mater, quia fovet, quia nutrit, quia lactat, quia continent. The bold print is mine. The English translation is from: St. Augustine, Exposition of the Psalms (Maria Boulding), 285-6.

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Theoretical Framework and Methodology In this article I will study the divine motherhood of Continence from the viewpoint of spirituality studies. This research is situated in the scientific field of spirituality. Based on the definitions of Bulhof,9 Dreyer and Burrows,10 and Waaijman,11 I identify four aspects of spirituality: the divine reality (1), the human reality (2), the human and divine realities as related reciprocally, in two directions (3); and the relation as dynamic, as a process (4). My research into divine motherhood of Continence is focused on what happened between this divine personification and Augustine. In what way did she reveal herself to him? What experience does her revelation bring to Augustine? What function did Continence have in his conversion? In what way did Augustine – afterward – express her presence to him in his Confessions? I study the articulation of this event: how does the writer Augustine express the encounter with her. This investigation into divine motherhood of Continence involves (at least) two actors: God and Augustine. When there is divine mediation, it can involve multiple actors from the divine reality: God, Continence as divine mother, and Augustine. Augustine himself has a double role: he is writer and he is the man about whom he writes. This study is in a true sense an hermeneutic research, because it is based on texts of Augustine; this research is also systematic for its analysis of the indication of divine motherhood. In carrying out the hermeneutic research I am referring to the central passage of divine motherhood of Continence in Confessions (Conf. 8.11.27). Structure of this Article My article starts with an introduction of two personifications at the conversion of Augustine: Continentia and Consuetudo (1). I will continue with the description and analysis of the text about the motherhood of Continence at the conversion of Augustine (Conf. 8.11.27). In this description and analysis I will go into the biblical sources and other texts from the Confessions, which Augustine may have used for this text (2). Then I will describe the reversal in the 9 Ilse Bulhof defines as follows: ‘One speaks of spirituality when on the one hand attention and longing exist for insights in something that goes beyond the ordinary life (philo-sophia, love or desire for wisdom) and when on the other hand an existential unity exists between knowledge and own life-praxis, between book-learning and wisdom of life’. Ilse Bulhof, Naar een postmoderne spiritualiteit (Leiden, 1992), 14. 10 Elizabeth Dreyer and Mark Burrows describe Christian Spirituality: ‘A particular Christian spirituality is one that involves conscious discipleship, opening oneself to the grace in the generosity of the Creator, through the love of God, by the grace of Jesus Christ, and in the power of the Spirit’. Elizabeth A. Dreyer and Mark S. Burrows, Minding the Spirit, The Study of Christian Spirituality (Baltimore a.o., 2005), xv. 11 Kees Waaijman defines spirituality as a ‘divine-human relational process’. K. Waaijman, Spiritualiteit: vormen, grondslagen, methoden (Kampen, Gent, 2000), 424.

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conversion of Augustine (3). After that, I will describe the mystagogical function of Continence (4). Next, I will focus on Continence and the law of the Lord (5). Then, I will answer the question to what extent Augustine has modelled Continence on the female Wisdom in his conversion (6). Motherhood of Continence (Conf. 8.11.27) 1. Introduction: Continentia and Consuetudo In Book eight of Confessions, Continence, comes to the fore (Conf. 8.11.27). Augustine describes his conversion as an internal conflict between his two wills. His one will was attached to the worldly (flesh); his other will encouraged him to imitate Christ (spirit). To describe this struggle, he presents the allegorical figures, in Latin: Consuetudo and Continentia. Consuetudo indicates the law of sin, the old order of the law, and Continentia indicates the law of the Lord. Augustine brings Consuetudo in connection with his will, which was subjected to his desire. He describes her as a slavery that kept him entangled and from which he could not free himself. The Latin name Continentia is usually used as a synonym for abstinentia (abstinence).12 In my opinion, there is a difference in meaning between these concepts. Continentia is derived from the Latin word contineo, which means to hold together, to hold in a certain state. Therefore it could be better translated as ‘self-control.’ The description of Continence as a chaste, dignified figure can refer to the ascetic tradition of Christianity in the third and fourth centuries, in which self-control set the tone, meaning sexual abstinence.13 This ascetic tradition – which was not based on the Bible – was opposed to Greek and Roman culture in which dealing with sexuality was bound by other norms. The question is whether Continence calls on Augustine to abstain from sexuality. What function does she have in the conversion of Augustine? 2. Description and analysis of Conf. 8.11.27 Revelation of Continence Continence was revealed to Augustine when Consuetudo could no longer had the power to fascinate him. Augustine does not describe that Continence appeared to him, but that she was ‘opened’ for him (aperiebatur): she was 12 According to Zumkeller, abstinentia and continentia are synonyms. He indicated that the virtue sexual abstinence is typical for the personification Continence, because Continence shows herself in her chaste dignity. Adolar Zumkeller, ‘Abstinentia – Continentia’, in Cornelius Mayer et al. (eds), Augustinus-Lexikon I (Basel, 1986), 35. 13 The Latin castus means not only chaste, but also pure and pious. The latter meaning can be found in the description of the serious illness of the child Augustine, in which Monnica was willing to baptize Augustine with her pure heart (Conf. 1.11.17).

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made visible and accessible. So it is not about a sudden appearance, but about a revelation in which someone is seen from elsewhere. In the description of the continuation of his conversion, he uses this word several times, as we shall see later. Continence was revealed at the boundary of his existence, a boundary that he could not cross himself with all his good intentions and efforts. Augustine describes this boundary earlier: I was saying to myself. “Now is the moment, let it be now!” (…). Then I would make a fresh attempt, and now I was almost there, almost there. I was touching the goal, grasping it, and then I was not there, not touching, not grasping it. I shrank from dying to death and living to life for ingrained evil was more powerful in me than new grafted good. The nearer I came, that moment when I would be changed, the more it pierced me with terror. Dismayed, but not quite dislodged, I was left hanging.14

Continence entered his living environment from a reality outside of him. This created a possibility of breaking through this boundary. Her presence evoked fear: he trembled to go to her. Despite his shudder, she invited him to come to her: The taunts had begun to sound much less persuasive, however; for a revelation was coming to me from that country toward which I was facing, but into which I trembled to cross. There I beheld [aperiebatur] the chaste, dignified figure of Continence. Calm and cheerful was her manner, though modest, pure and honourable her charm as she coaxed me to come and hesitate no longer, stretching kindly hands to welcome and embrace me, hands filled with a wealth of heartening examples. A multitude of boys and girls were there, a great concourse of youth and persons of every age, venerable widows and women grown old in their virginity, and in all of them I saw this that this same Continence was by no means sterile, but the fruitful mother of children conceived in joy from you, her Bridegroom.15

Biblical sources of Continence According to the critical editions of this text, a reference is made to the fertile mother of children in Psalm 113 (112 Vg.).16 In this psalm there is talk 14 Conf. 8.11.25 (CChr.SL 27, 129): dicebam enim apud me intus, ‘ecce modo fiat, modo fiat’ (…). Et item conabar, et paulo minus ibi eram et paulo minus, iam iamque attingebam et tenebam. et non ibi eram nec attingebam nec tenebam, haesitans mori morti et vitae vivere. The English translation is from St. Augustine, The Confessions (Boulding), 129. 15 Conf. 8.11.27 (CChr.SL 27, 130): Sed iam tepidissime hoc dicebat. Aperiebatur enim ab ea parte, qua intenderam faciem et quo transire trepidabam, casta dignitas continentiae, serena et non dissolute hilaris, honeste blandiens, ut venirem neque dubitarem, et extendens ad me suscipiendum et amplectendum pias manus plenas gregibus bonorum exemplorum. Ibi tot pueri et puellae, ibi iuventus multa et omnis aetas et graves viduae et virgines anus, et in omnibus ipsa continentia nequaquam sterilis, sed fecunda mater filiorum gaudiorum de marito te, domine. The English translation is from St. Augustine, The Confessions (Boulding), 205. The cursive print is mine. 16 According to the critical editions of this text, a reference is made to the fertile mother of children in Psalm 113 (112 Vg): Sancti Augustini, Confessionum Libri XIII, ed. Luc Verheijen, CChr.SL 27 (Turnhout, 1981). The reference to Psalm 113 (112) is also in Corpus Augustinianum

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of the Lord and the happy mother of children. Is there a connection between Continence and the mother from this psalm?17 The similarity between this psalm and Augustine’s text is that both mothers are in relationship with the Lord, who gives them ‘children’, although God does that in different ways. This psalm relates to biological motherhood, while the motherhood of Continence is of a divine order. The children were given to Continence because they surrendered to her husband, the Lord. That’s the difference. Another similarity is their fruitfulness. In this psalm God gives fruitfulness. The Biblical people regard God as the giver of fertility. They know themselves to be dependent on his blessing. The mother’s womb remains closed without that blessing. Although Continence’s motherhood is also characterized by fruitfulness, it is not said that her husband, the Lord, is the donor of her fruitfulness. Fruitfulness is not a characteristic of the Lord, but of Continence. She herself is the bearer of fruitfulness. This psalm therefore gives no explanation for the divine motherhood of Continence in this text of Augustine. The description of Continence evokes associations with the blessing of Moses (Deut. 33:2-3).18 There are similarities between Continence and the Lord. Both Continence and the Lord carry a large crowd in their hands and love them. The other similarity is the law, as we shall see in the next paragraph of this text. Both Continence and the Lord point to the law. Continence, in her conversation with Augustine, points to the law of the Lord, which is based on the law of Moses (Deut. 33:4a). There are also differences with this text from the Vulgate. Augustine speaks about the fertility of Continence and about her husband: the Lord. This is remarkable because nowhere in the Bible is a mention of a divine couple. Recent studies speculate about a divine couple based on Deut. 33:2-3, where Ashera is mentioned as consort of YHWH.19 According to these studies, the Gissense (Gag) and in: Confessions of Augustine: electronic edition, a text and commentary by James O’Donnell, Oxford 1992 (www.stoa.org/hippo). There is no reference to Psalm 113 (112) in the Latin text of the Confessions in Migne. Jacques Paul Migne (ed.), Sancti Aurelii Augustini Hipponensis Episcopi Opera Omnia (Paris, 1841-1842), PL 32, 761. 17 Ps. 112:9 (Vg.): qui habitare facit sterilem in domo matrem filiorum laetantem (who maketh a barren woman to dwell in a house, the joyful mother of children). Augustine takes over the last part and changes the word: laetantem in filiorum. 18 Deut. 33:2-4a (Vg.): et ait Dominus de Sina venit et de Seïr ortus est nobis, apparuit de monte Pharan et cum eo sanctorum milia, in dextera eius ignea lex, dilexit populos omnes sancti in manu illius sunt, et qui adpropinquant pedibus eius accipient de doctrina illius, legem praecepit nobis Moses (‘And he said: the Lord came from Sinai, and from Seir he rose up to us: he hath appeared from mount Pharan, and with him thousands of saints. In his right hand a fiery law. He hath loved the people, all the saints are in his hand: and they that approach to his feet, shall receive of his doctrine’). 19 Meindert Dijkstra, ‘El, de God van Israël – Israël, het volk van JHWH’, in Bob Becking et al. (eds), Één God alleen…? Over monotheïsme in Oud-Israël en de verering van de godin Asjera (Kampen, 1998), 59-92. According to Dijkstra, one can speak of the goddess Ashera based on Deut. 33:2-3.

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law points to Ashera, the goddess of fertility, who was very popular in Israel.20 Could Ashera be associated with Continence? They share their fertility and both are associated with the law. Yet it is not obvious that Continence and Ashera are the same, because Continence also has properties of the Lord. Moreover, Augustine has not replaced the law with Continence; like the Lord she points him to the law of the Lord. Augustine may have relied this text from the Vulgate (Deut. 33:2-4a) for the description of Continence on, but not with regard to the divine couple. In the continuation of the Confessions, Augustine speaks of a marriage relationship between God and Mother Jerusalem (Conf. 12.16.23), which he identifies with Mother Wisdom (Conf. 12.15.20). It is possible that there is a connection between Continence and Mother Wisdom. The confrontation of Continence Augustine saw that life in relation to her is fruitful. Although the crowd in her hands as an example, could have aroused his desire to come to her, this did not happen. He did not to take the plunge to where she called him. Then Continence confronted him with his ambivalence: She was smiling at me, but with a challenging smile, as though to say, ‘Can you not do what these men have done, these women? Could any of them achieve it by their own strength, without the Lord their God? He it was, the Lord their God, who granted me to them. Why try to stand by yourself, only to lose your footing? Cast yourself on in and do not be afraid: he will support and heal you’.21

Continence’s conversation with Augustine is introduced twice with quasi: quasi diceret: “Tu non poteris, quod isti, quod istae?” The first time is at the beginning of this dialogue. The second time is at the beginning of the second dialogue as we shall see in the next fragment: quasi diceret. The word quasi is used as an introduction to a comparison whose content is presented as non-real. Augustine articulates what she communicated to him. To describe Continence’s relationship with him, Augustine uses two Latin verbs: suscipere and excipere. Before she confronted him, she had invited him to come so she could take him up (suscipere). If he entrusted herself to her, she 20 Based on two inscriptions from Kuntillet el-Agrud, it is possible that Ashera is the wife of YHWH. One of these texts from Hosea is probably from the time of Hosea’s polemics against the syncretistic cult of YHWH. For Hosea the wife of YHWH is not Ashera but Israel. H. Simian Yofre, ‘Hosea’, in Erik Eynikel et al. (eds), Internationaal commentaar op de Bijbel, Deel 2 (Kampen, 2001), 1286. The other inscription might be based on Deut. 33:2-3 (Meindert Dijkstra, ‘El, de God van Israël – Israël, het volk van JHWH’ [1998], 83-4). 21 Conf. 8.11.27 (CChr.SL 27, 130): Et inridebat me inrisione hortatoria, quasi diceret: “Tu non poteris, quod isti, quod istae? An vero isti et istae in se ipsis possunt ac non in domino deo suo? Dominus deus eorum me dedit eis. Quid in te stas et non stas? Proice te in eum, noli metuere; non se subtrahet, ut cadas: proice te securus, excipiet et sanabit te.” The English translation is from St. Augustine, The Confessions (Boulding), 205.

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would embrace him, which is a very motherly image. After she had shown her willingness to take him up, she encouraged him to surrender to her husband, the Lord, who would take care of him (excipere). Being taken up relates to him as a mortal human being guided by his concupiscence (concupiscientia). If he cast himself upon Lord, He would heal him. Augustine uses the same verb pair in this text as in his description of himself as an infant who was subject to original sin and who was taken up by the consolations of God’s mercy (Conf. 1.6.7). These texts have in common that Augustine’s will is not attuned to God and that he must cross a boundary where he will be received. The boundary between God and the infant Augustine was crossed because he was received (passively) by the divine consolations. In this event, Continence invited Augustine (actively) to cross this boundary, take the risk, and entrust himself to her Lord who is concealed and invisible. Continence confronted him with his ambivalence: Quid in te stas et non stas?22 Augustine, however, still stood on his own and did not yet live in a relationship with God. Continence addressed the desire that he writes about in the introduction of Book eight: What I longed for was not greater certainty about you, but a more steadfast abiding in you (Conf. 8.1.1).23 Without surrendering, Augustine could not stand in God and remained in the isolation of his own existence. The surrender to the Lord to which Continence called him is an act of faith. But Augustine was unable to do that. He remained in the isolation of his own existence. Then Continence confronted him again. Her confrontation yielded an experience of shame, that revealed its concupiscence in ‘the murmur of frivolities’. His concupiscence contrasted with Continence as a personification of self-control. Augustine was governed by his old will, which prevented him from surrendering: And I was bitterly ashamed, because I could still hear the murmurs of those frivolities, and I was still in suspense, still hanging back. Again she appealed to me, as though urging, “Close your ears against those unclean parts of you which belong to the earth and let them be put to death. They tell you titillating tales, but have nothing to do with the law of the Lord your God.”24 22

Is. 7:7: Haec dicit Dominus Deus non stabit en non erit istud (‘Thus saith the Lord God: It shall not stand, and this shall not be’). According to O’Connell this verse is based on Is. 7:9: si non credideritis non permanebitis (If you will not believe, you shall not continue). He argues that the Hebrew word for stand, stand up, hold on (nè’éman), is derived from the same root as believing in Hebrew (le-ha’amien). Robert J. O’Connell, ‘Isaiah’s Mothering God in St. Augustine’s Confessions’, Thought 58 (1983), 188-206, 190. 23 The English translation is from St. Augustine, The Confessions (Boulding), 184. 24 Conf. 8.11.27 (CChr.SL 27, 130): Et erubescebam nimis, quia illarum nugarum murmura adhuc audiebam, et cunctabundus pendebam. Et rursus illa, quasi diceret: “Obsurdesce adversus immunda illa membra tua super terram, ut mortificentur. Narrant tibi delectationes, sed non sicut lex domini dei tui”. Ista controversia in corde meo non nisi de me ipso adversus me ipsum. At Alypius affixus lateri meo inusitati motus mei exitum tacitus opperiebatur. The English translation is from St. Augustine, The Confessions (Boulding), 205. The bold print is mine.

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The call of Continence to destroy his concupiscence refers to Augustine’s old will and Paul’s call to the mortification of the members on earth (Col. 3:5).25 Augustine adds that these members are ‘unclean’, which relates to his condition as a baptized person. His impurity [uncleanness] that told him pleasant things (Ps. 119:85),26 points to the human being led by the flesh. He was captivated by his concupiscence that escapes the control of the will, in the words of Paul: the law of sin (Rom. 7:22).27 Therefore it was impossible for him to love God: ‘for the mind that is set on the flesh, it is hostile to God, for it does not to submit to God’s law; indeed, it cannot’ (Rom. 8:7).28 Continence pointed Augustine to the law of the Lord, which contrasted with the old will. Paul relates the law of the Lord to the work of the Holy Spirit (Rom. 8:2). The law of the Lord is based on the law of Moses (Deut. 33:4a). Paul describes it as opposed to human nature as a result of which he was handed over by sin (Rom. 7:14). Augustine follows this line of thought. As long as his will and his heart were still contradictory, he was locked in the shackles of his sins and there was discord in him. This field of tension could be transformed by a divine initiative, whereby Augustine would surrender to Christ. Then a concord in his will could be brought about – a concord that he describes later as a light of certainty that was pouring into his heart, with all the darkness of his doubt fleeing (Conf. 8.12.29). Augustine was not ready for this surrender in this dialogue with Continence, because he was still trapped in his old will. Only the law of the Lord could free him from it, in the words of Paul: ‘For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death’ (Rom. 8:2). This law was given to him by Continence, whereby his will could be freed from sin. By pointing out to him the law of the Lord, Continence broke the internal conflict in his will, and a longing (‘unprecedented agitation’) was aroused in him witnessed by his friend Alypius. Alypius stood fast at my side, silently awaiting the outcome of my unprecedented agitation.29 25 Reference to Col. 3:5: Mortificare ergo membra vestra quae sunt super terram: fornicationem, inmunditiam, libidinem, concupiscientiam malam en avaritiam quae simulacrorum servitus (‘Mortify therefore your members which are upon the earth: fornication, uncleanness, lust, evil concupiscence and covetousness, which is the service of idols’). Augustine speaks about deafness and adds the word immunda (unclean). 26 Reference to Ps. 118:85 (119): narraverunt mihi iniqui fabulationes sed non ut lex tua (‘The wicked have told me fables: but not as thy law’). Augustine does not speak about the wicked but about pleasures. 27 Rom. 7:23: Video autem aliam legem in membris meis, repugnantem legi mentis meae et captivantem me in lege peccati quae est in membris meis (‘But I see another law in my members, fighting against the law of my mind and captivating me in the law of sin that is in my members’). 28 Rom. 8:7 (Vg.): ‘Because the wisdom of the flesh is an enemy to God. For it is not subject to the law of God: neither can it be.’ 29 Conf. 8.11.27 (CChr.SL 27, 130): at Alypius affixus lateri meo inusitati motus mei exitum tacitus opperiebatur. The English translation is from St. Augustine, The Confessions (Boulding), 205.

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Augustine describes how this confrontation worked out: I flung myself down somehow under a fig-tree and gave free rein to the tears that burst from my eyes like rivers, as an acceptable sacrifice to you.30

Augustine had to discard his old self, so that he could admit the law of the Lord that Continence had showed him. He had to return from the distortion that the habit of concupiscence (old will) had brought about in him. 3. Reversal by ‘aperire’: threefold repetition The return from his distortion was put into operation by the revelation of Continence who presented him the law of the Lord. This step could only become effective if his whole attitude to life would change. Augustine had to be purified so that he could admit this law. His purification led to a rapprochement of the Holy Scriptures, whereby the writer Augustine again used the word ‘to open’ (aperire) three times, but now in the active form. ● The first time

The first time, after a voice of a boy or a girl shouted, ‘pick up and read!’ He understood these words as coming from God and they called on him to open the Scriptures. Suddenly I heard a voice from a house nearby – perhaps a voice of some boy or girl, I do not know – singing over and over again. ‘pick it up and read, pick it up and read. (…). I stemmed the flood of tears and rose to my feet, believing that this could be nothing other, than a divine command to open the Book (aperirem codicem) and read the first passage I chanced upon.31 ● The second time

The second time, when he remembers the oracle by whom Antonius was converted. This memory prompted him to open the book and silently read the passage that caught his eyes.

30 Conf. 8.12.28 (CChr.SL 27, 131): ego sub quadam fici arbore stravi me nescio quomodo, et dimisi habenas lacrimis, et proruperunt flumina oculorum meorum, acceptabile sacrificium tuum. The English translation is from St. Augustine, The Confessions (Boulding), 206. 31 Conf. 8.12.29 (CChr.SL 27, 131): Et ecce audio vocem de vicina domo cum cantu dicentis et crebro repetentis, quasi pueri an puellae, nescio: “tolle lege, tolle lege.” Statimque mutato vultu intentissimus cogitare coepi utrumnam solerent pueri in aliquo genere ludendi cantitare tale aliquid. nec occurrebat omnino audisse me uspiam, repressoque impetu lacrimarum surrexi, nihil aliud interpretans divinitus mihi iuberi nisi ut aperirem codicem et legerem quod primum caput invenissem. The English translation is from St. Augustine, The Confessions (Boulding), 206-7. The bold and cursive prints are mine.

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Stung into action, I returned to the place where Alypius was sitting, for on leaving it I had put down there the book of the apostle’s letters – I snatched it up, opened it (aperui), and read in silence the passage on which my eyes first lighted.32

The memory to the desert monk Antonius brought him into contact with the ascetic tradition. Then Augustine read the passage in Paul’s Letter to the Romans: Not in dissipation and drunkenness, not in bauchery and lewdness, nor in arguing and jealosy; but put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh or the gratification of your desires (Rom. 13:13-4).33 ● The third time

And the third time, after his friend Alypius opened the passage from Paul’s letter to the Romans that he had read. Opened here means ‘explained’: I closed the book, marking the place with a finger between the leaves or by some other means, and told Alypius what had happened. My face was peaceful now. He in return told me what had been happening to him without my knowledge. He asked to see what I had read. I showed him, but he looked further than my reading had taken me. I did not know what followed, but the next verse was, ‘Make room for the person who is weak in faith’. He referred this text to himself and interpreted (aperuit) it to me.34

This threefold ‘opening’ led to a meeting with the Holy Scriptures. The repetition of aperire we can understand as a chain reaction to the confrontation of Continence. By being encouraged to live by the law of Lord, Augustine was able to turn to the Holy Scriptures. The repetition of aperire made clear the connection between the manifestation of Continence and the events that followed: the opening of the Holy Scripture and his surrender to Christ, whose light streamed into his heart (Conf. 8.12.29). Drecoll, who studied the doctrine of grace in Augustine, ignores both the connection with the Latin aperire that Augustine evokes, and to Continence providing the law of the Lord. Drecoll thinks that Augustine’s communication 32 Conf. 8.12.29 (CChr.SL 27, 131): itaque concitus redii in eum locum ubi sedebat Alypius: ibi enim posueram codicem apostoli cum inde surrexeram. arripui, aperui, et legi in silentio capitulum quo primum coniecti sunt oculi mei. The English translation is from St. Augustine, The Confessions (Boulding), 206-7. The bold and cursive prints are mine. 33 Conf. 8.12.29 (CChr.SL 27, 131): non in comessationibus et ebrietatibus, non in cubilibus et impudicitiis, non in contentione et aemulatione, sed induite dominum Iesum Christum et carnis providentiam ne feceritis in concupiscentiis. Nec ultra volui legere nec opus erat. statim quippe cum fine huiusce sententiae quasi luce securitatis infusa cordi meo omnes dubitationis tenebrae diffugerunt. The English translation is from St. Augustine, The Confessions (Boulding), 207. 34 Conf. 8.12.30 (CChr.SL 27, 132): Tum interiecto aut digito aut nescio quo alio signo codicem clausi et tranquillo iam vultu indicavi Alypio. At ille quid in se ageretur (quod ego nesciebam) sic indicavit. Petit videre quid legissem. Ostendi, et attendit etiam ultra quam ego legeram. Et ignorabam quid sequeretur. Sequebatur vero: ‘infirmum autem in fide recipite. Quod ille ad se rettulit mihique aperuit. The English translation is from St. Augustine, The Confessions (Boulding), 206-7. The bold and cursive prints are mine.

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with Continence is a conversation with himself. He reduces this communication to an imaginary dialogue with himself, and then zooms in on the voice of the child who calls tolle, lege and on reading the text in Paul’s letter to the Romans (Rom. 13:13-4).35 Is Augustine indeed only a conversation with a part of himself, or with a divine personification? We cannot answer this question. The divine light reached Augustine after his meeting with Continence. While Drecoll ignores divine action in Augustine’s conversion, my analysis of the text shows that the divine action is done by the personification of Continence. She was revealed to him, and had a message about his conversion to Christian life: he had to surrender to her Lord. Her revelation created communication with Augustine, but this communication did not remain in the isolation of himself. He was opened to the divine light. Her revelation brought about a transformation, through which he could open (aperire) himself to the Lord, whose light was flooding into his heart. After that he stood in God, on the rule of Faith. This rule was shown to Monnica, many years before. Many years earlier you had shown her a vision of me standing on the rule standing on the rule of faith. And now indeed I stood there, (…) for you had converted me to yourself (Conf. 8.12.30).36

4. Mystagogical Function of Continence Continence mediated between the Lord and Augustine. She did not function on behalf of the Lord but as his spouse, independently and in relation to her Lord. She was not a passive tool in the Lord’s hand who adapted to him and left all initiative to him. As a figure outside Augustine’s inner world, she confronted him with his concupiscence. With her confrontation she broke the struggle in his will, the tension between flesh and spirit. That made him ‘open’, receptive to the light (grace) of Jesus Christ that poured into his heart. This initiation implied a break in his existence, which led to a re-creation beyond his human potential. This renewal came from the reality of God. This initiation is different from that of maieutics. Unlike the maieutics, which concern the eternal values in the soul, Christian initiation is about conversion and transformation that goes beyond one’s own innerness and is focused on Christ. 5. Continence and the law of the Lord We saw that the description of Continence evokes associations with the blessing of Moses (Deut. 33:2-4). The law of the Lord to which Continence 35 Volker Henning Drecoll, Die Entstehung der Gnadenlehre Augustins, Beiträge zur historischen Theologie 109 (Tübingen, 1999), 320-1. 36 Conf. 8.12.30 (CChr.SL 27, 132): et convertisti enim me ad te, ut nec uxorem quaererem nec aliquam spem saeculi huius, stans in ea regula fidei in qua me ante tot annos ei revelaveras.

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points is related to the law of Moses (Deut. 33:2.4) and also to Wisdom that embodies the law of Moses: Legem mandavit Moses in praeceptis iustitiarum (Moses commanded a law in the precepts of justices) (Sir. 24:33 Vg.).

In Sirach, the law of Moses is described as a rich stream of wisdom, represented as flowing rivers, namely: the Pison and the Tigris. Implet quasi Phison sapientiam et sicut Tigris in diebus novorum (who filleth up wisdom as the Phison, and as the Tigris in the days of the new fruits) (Sir. 24:35 Vg.).

These rivers from Paradise represent the human being in his original state, the human being before the fall. These rivers refer to the rivers that broke open after the communication with Continence had taken place (Conf. 8.12.28). The intervening verse (Sir. 24:34, Vg.) suggests that King David gives wisdom. In the first text-critical apparatus of the Vulgate, the publishers did not regard this verse as an original text. Verse 34 is an allusion to the messianic promise and seems to be a later addition:37 Posuit David puero suo excitare regem ex ipso fortissimum in throno honoris sedentem in sempiternum (he appointed to David his servant to raise up of him a most mighty king, and sitting on the throne of glory for ever) (Sir. 24:34 Vg.).

When verse 34 is omitted, Wisdom shapes the law of Moses. This fits within the whole of chapter 24 of Ecclesiasticus (Wisdom of Jesus Sirach). This text from Ecclesiasticus has a history. This text is very important to understand the conversion of Augustine. This analysis shows that the law of the Lord that Continence gives him fits more into the Biblical tradition than into the ascetic tradition of early Christianity. This ascetical tradition only came to the fore when Augustine remembered Antonius (Conf. 8.12.29). Augustine must have known the book ecclesiasticus, because it was used in the early Christian church for teaching catechumens. He had been a catechumen himself for a long time. As a bishop he was involved in the formation in Faith of catechumens. The connection between Wisdom and the law of Moses is also found in Baruch. In this book we find the central idea that in the law of Moses Gods Wisdom is made known: Hic liber mandatorum Dei et lex quae est in aeternum omnes qui tenent eam ad vitam, qui autem dereliquerint eam in mortem (this is the book of the commandments of God, and the law, that is for ever: all they that keep it, shall come to life: but they that have forsaken it, to death) (Bar. 4:1 Vg.). 37 Walter Thiele, ‘Sirach, Ecclesiasticus’, in Petrus Sabatier (ed.), Vetus Latina, die Reste des Altlateinischen Bibel, Band 11-2 (Freiburg, 1987), 702.

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6. Divine motherhood of Continence and Mother Wisdom Perhaps Augustine himself sees a connection between the figure Continence and the personification of Wisdom (Sir. 24) in the book Wisdom of Jesus Sirach. Continence’s similarities with Wisdom are: ● The personification of Continence as mother is consistent with Wisdom as

mother (Sir. 24:24 Vg.). ● The fruitfulness of Continence corresponds with that of Wisdom (Sir. 24:17-

23 Vg.). ● The invitation of Continence corresponds with that of Wisdom (Sir. 24:26

Vg.). Both mothers would like to enter into relationships with people. ● The law to which Continence pointed, is a reference to that of Moses

(Deut. 33:2.4) and is also related to Mother Wisdom, which gives shape to the law of Moses (Sir. 24:35 Vg.). Wisdom is the law (Bar. 4:1). ● The divine signature of Continence corresponds to that Wisdom, who lives both in the midst of her people and in the community of God (Sir. 24:1-2). Her mediation between her people and God corresponds to Continence, who mediates between Augustine and her Lord. ● The marriage between Continentia and the Lord can be compared to the relationship between Wisdom and the Lord. In the Confessions Augustine speaks of a marriage between God and mother Jerusalem (Conf. 12.16.23), whom he identifies with mother Wisdom (Conf. 12.15.20). The marriage between Wisdom and the Lord is not described in Sir. 24:24 (Vg.), nor in the Vetus Latina, the ancient translations of the Greek text into Latin. These translations omit the second part of the verse.38 Evidence for this marriage can be found on the extensive Greek text of Sir. 24:18.39 In the second part of this verse, a relationship is described between Wisdom, the Lord and the children: δίδωμι δὲ σὺν πᾶσι τοῖς τέκνοις μου ἀειγενεῖς τοῖς λεγομένοις ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ (I give myself to all my children, always with those who are mentioned by him) (Sir. 24:18).40

It is possible that Augustine had seen this text because the Greek text was used within the early Christian churches. We cannot prove this, but that also applies for the many other references to Bible quotes in his texts.

38

Sir. 24:24a (Vg.): ego mater pulchrae dilectionis et timoris et agnitionis et sanctae spei. The Greek translation of the book Jesus Sirach consists of two Greek forms of text. The first Greek form (Gr I) is considered to be the translation of the original Hebrew text of Jesus Sirach by his grandson. The second Greek text form (Gr II) is an extensive translation that contains approximately 300 lines more than Gr I, see P. Beentjes, De wijsheid van Jesus Sirach (2006), 67. 40 Walter Thiele, ‘Sirach, Ecclesiasticus’ (1987), 694-5. 39

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Conclusion The divine action in Augustine’s conversion presents Continence in her invitation, confrontation and her exhortation to surrender to Christ. Her confrontation with the law of the Lord evoked a longing for Christ, but also the experience of concupiscence and thus the need for purification and conversion. In this way Continence had guided him into the mystery, that is Christ himself. While Continence was ‘opened’ to him, Augustine ‘opened’ himself to the Holy Scripture and to Christ. This opening is articulated in the repetition of aperire in his conversion. Continence as a divine mother points to an inclusive reality of God, because of her marital relationship with her Lord. Augustine had described an inclusive God who takes up the feminine – maternal. It is possible that Augustine had modelled Continence on Mother Wisdom in Sirach 24.

Navigating between Stereotypes: Augustine on Marriage and Virginity Przemysław NEHRING, Nicolaus Copernicus University, Toruń, Poland

ABSTRACT As we learn from the Retractationes, two of Augustine’s treatises, De bono coniugali and De sancta virginitate, were aimed to present his own views in the polemic on the merits of marriage and virginity which is customarily associated with Jerome and Jovinian. The reasoning of those primary antagonists, though very often based on the very same biblical passages, brought them to completely different conclusions. They also employed a number of clichéd arguments, two of which were particularly prominent in their argumentation: on the one hand, there were the examples of married Old Testament prophets, who were invoked to emphasise the great value of the institution of marriage, and, on the other, the hackneyed stereotypes of the so-called molestiae nuptiarum (‘ills of marriage’) that were customarily used to show married life in the worst possible light. Augustine’s position in the controversy was at a far remove from these extremities. The aim of my article is to demonstrate the effective means he developed to defuse the stereotype-laden debate and give substance to his own moderate position by using a number of biblical quotations as premises for his arguments built in accordance with the schemes known from the classical theory of rhetoric.

The topic of the merits of marriage and celibacy, especially virginity, started to be fiercely discussed in Western Christianity in the last decades of the 4th century. The debate was set in the context of the anti-ascetic crisis, provoked by those who perceived extreme ascetism as either dangerous for the traditional social order or following teachings of the gnostic Encratics or simply Manichaeans.1 There are several treatises dating back from that time which praise chastity, such as Ambrose’s set of writings about virgins and widows2 or Jerome’s famous Letter 22, also known as the treatise Libellus de virginitate 1 See Gian D. Gordini, ‘L’opposizione al monachesimo a Roma nel IV secolo’, in Mario Fois, Vincenzo Monachino and Félix Litva (eds), Della Chiesa antica alla Chiesa moderna (Roma, 1983), 19-35; David G. Hunter, ‘Resistance to the Virginal Ideal in Late-Fourth-Century Rome: the Case of Jovinian’, ThS 48 (1987), 45-64. 2 To this group of writings belong: De exhortatione virginitatis, De institutione virginis, De virginibus, De virginitate, De viduis. All these treatises were published in Francesco Gori (ed.), Tutte le Opere di San Ambrogio, edizione latino-italiana, vol. 14,2 (Milano, Roma, 1989).

Studia Patristica CXVIII, 243-251. © Peeters Publishers, 2021.

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servanda (CSEL 54, 143-211).3 Their authors not only recognized the states of virginity and widowhood as superior to marriage but also refuted actual or possible accusations of questioning the key role of marriage and family, underlined by the Roman social tradition, or standing against the true Christian teaching, based on both Testaments. However, at the same time, there appeared other writings advancing the thesis that the merits of virginity and marriage should be treated equally. It was supported by such authors as Helvidius4 and, particularly, Jovinian,5 who themselves were involved in the ascetic movement. Despite the fact that their works did not survive until today, their views and details of argumentation can be reconstructed thanks to evidence of their polemicists, first of all Jerome, who strongly attacked them in his treatises Adversus Helvidium de Mariae virginitate perpetua (PL 23, 193-216) and Adversus Iovinianum (PL 23, 221-352). Speaking out against them, Jerome radicalised his viewpoint to such an extent that he exposed himself to accusations of explicitly downgrading the marital state. The three letters (ep. 48-50) sent by him in 394 from Bethlehem to his friends Pammachius and Domnion testify to the fact that his pamphlet against Jovinian provoked a real scandal in Rome. Augustine participated in this debate too, which is testified in his Retractationes.6 The bishop of Hippo knew that radical views, formed in the tense, polemical atmosphere, resulted in drawing extreme and, in his opinion, equally incorrect conclusions.7 He wrote two twin treatises at the beginning of the 3 For a comprehensive commentary to this letter see Neil Adkin, A Comentary on the Libellus de virginitate servanda (Cambridge, 2003). 4 For a detailed account of the controversy associated with the name of Helvidius see Giancarlo Rocca, L’Adversus Helvidium di san Gerolamo nel contesto della letteratura ascetico-mariana del secolo IV (Bern, 1998); see also Przemysław Nehring, Dlaczego dziewictwo jest lepsze niż małżeństwo. Spór o ideał w chrzescijaństwie zachodnim końca IV stulecia w relacji Ambrożego, Hieronima i Augustyna (Toruń, 2005), 84-92. 5 For a detailed account of the controversy associated with the name of Jovinian see David G. Hunter, Marriage, Celibacy, and Heresy in Ancient Christianity. The Jovinianist Heresy (Oxford, 2007); Yves-Marie Duval, L’affaire Jovininien. D’une crise de la société romaine à une crise de la pensée chrétienne à la fin du IVe et au début du Ve siècle (Roma, 2003); see also P. Nehring, Dlaczego dziewictwo (2005), 110-75. 6 Aug., Retractationum libri duo 2,22-3, ed. A Mutzenbecher, CChr.SL 57 (Turnhout, 1984): Ioviniani haeresis sacrarum virginum meritum aequando pudicitiae coniugali tantum valuit in urbe Roma, ut nonnullas etiam sanctimoniales, de quarum pudicitia suspicio nulla praecesserat, deiecisse in nuptias diceretur, hoc maxime argumento cum eas urgeret dicens: Tu ergo melior quam Sara, melior quam Susanna sive Anna? […] Propter hoc librum edidi, cuius inscriptio est: De bono coniugali. […] Hic liber sic incipit: Quoniam unusquisque homo, humani generis pars est. […] 23. Posteaquam scripsi De bono coniugali, expectabatur ut scriberem de sancta virginitate; nec distuli atque id Dei munus et quam magnum et quanta humilitate custodiendum esset uno sicut potui volumine ostendi. Hic liber sic incipit: Librum de bono coniugali nuper edidimus. 7 Aug., De sancta virginitate 19, ed. J. Zycha, CSEL 41 (Vienna, 1900): Nam cum error uterque sit, vel aequare sanctae virginitati nuptias vel damnare, nimis invicem fugiendo duo isti

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5th century – De bono coniugali (CSEL 41, 187-230) and De sancta virginitate (CSEL 41, 235-302), in which he defended the merits of marriage as well as the superiority of consecrated virginity over marriage, trying not to compare both states directly so as not to fall into the trap of radicalism by rhetorical bravery, as was the case with earlier authors. Among various arguments considered by both parties of the dispute there were some recognized as obvious or even obligatory in this discourse. A concise discussion of two of them will be the subject-matter of this article – avoidance of the so-called molestiae nuptiarum as an argument for the superiority of virginity over marriage, and, on the other hand, appreciation of marriage by reference to notable examples of Old Testament marriages of patriarchs and prophets. Molestiae nuptiarum The pains of marriage were commonly presented in early Christian literature in order to raise concerns about the possible troubles connected with marital life, and, on the other hand, to give hope for avoiding them if the path of chastity is chosen. Both feelings – metus and spes – were here invoked, which was one of the basic tasks typical for advisory rhetoric.8 In this matter, authors of writings clearly aiming at praising and encouraging virginity could rely on an earlier rhetorical tradition9 but also drew inspiration from prior literature, both pagan10 and Christian.11 Although in pagan tradition these were only examples of various nuisances caused by wives, while Church authors who praised virginity warned mainly against great inconveniences that would be suffered by errores adversa fronte confligunt, quia veritatis medium tenere noluerunt: quo et certa ratione et sanctarum Scripturarum auctoritate nec peccatum esse nuptias invenimus nec eas bono vel virginalis continentiae, vel etiam vidualis aequamus. 8 See Heinrich Lausberg, Handbuch der literarischen Rhetorik. Eine Grundlegung der Literaturwissenschaft (Wiesbaden, 1990), § 258. 9 According to Jerome (Adv. Iov. 1,47,289), Theophrastus wrote a book De nuptiis (‘On Marriage’) in which he discussed the issue: an vir sapiens ducat uxorem. It is also worth mentioning that authors of late ancient manuals of rhetoric, such as Aphtonios (Progymnasmata 13) ot Libanios (Progymnasmata 13) put on the list of school literary exercises the one called thesis which was exemplified by them with consideration the problem: ‘Should one marry?’ 10 Already in the earliest Greek literature there were authors who wrote about nuisances that caused marriage. Semonides, a poet from the seventh cent. BC finished his so-called satire on women with a whole catalogue of ills that wives bring to their husbands. Clemens of Alexandria (Stromata 2,138-45) gives an overview of the opinions on marriage proclaimed by major Greek philosophers and philosophical schools. 11 See Juana Torres, ‘El tópico de las molestiae nuptiarum en la literature cristiana antigua’, in La narrativa cristiana antica, codici narrativi, strutture formali, schemi retorici. XXIII Incontro di studiosi dell’antichita cristiana, Roma 5-7 maggio 1994, Studia Ephemeridis Augustinianum 50 (Roma, 1995), 101-15.

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wives-to-be, this kind of influence was surprisingly profound.12 In order to promote celibacy they frequently invoked birth pains, concerns about raising children and other marital problems as obstacles to the total dedication to God. Another starting point for such arguments was, naturally, the exegesis of the evangelical message about the necessity of forsaking family, house and possessions for God13 and St Paul’s words in 1Cor. 7:33-4, in which it is stated that a married man or woman is not free from concerns of the world, and thus cannot be fully devoted to God. Both Ambrose and Jerome praised and encouraged virginity using arguments based on molestiae nuptiarum in a traditional, not to say hackneyed, way. Ambrose mentions not only the problems associated with giving birth and raising children, but also the necessity of a wife’s almost slavish submission to her husband. Although Jerome defines this motive explicitly as locus communis, that adds some exaggerated rhetorical tone to the argumentation,14 he, nevertheless, fully uses its persuasive strength. Both authors introduce the topic of marital annoyances using praeteritio,15 a rhetorical device, commonly used in the argumentative strategy of calling readers’ attention to a point by seeming to ignore it. But on the other hand the obviousness of this clichéd argument had to be also considered by those authors who wanted to equal effectively merits of marriage with those of celibacy in a rhetorical discourse. Jovinian referred to it in a way that somehow reversed its traditional persuasive strength to highlight his own standpoint. In the rhetorically colourful apostrophe to virgins, quoted by Jerome, which is a warning against taking pride by them, he wrote: non tibi facio, virgo, iniuriam: elegisti pudicitiam propter praesentem necessitatem: placuit tibi, ut sis sancta corpore et spiritu: ne superbias: eiusdem ecclesiae membrum es, cuius et nuptae sunt. (Adv. Iov. 1,5,217) He mentioned here the words used by St Paul in 1Cor. 7:26 so as to explain why it is better to live in celibacy, yet reduced this biblical reasoning just to the virgins’ willingness to avoid only earthly concerns associated with marriage, without providing any broader eschatological context. Therefore, he supported his own thesis that there exists only one reward waiting for baptised Christians after death and it is not graded on the basis of the state in which they lived, no matter whether they chose life in celibacy or marriage. It is here worth mentioning the Latin version of the Apostle’s words that he quoted and on which he based his interpretation. The original Greek wording διὰ τὴν 12 See Günther C. Hansen, ‘Molestiae nuptiarum’, Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift der Universität Rostock 12 (1963), 215-9. 13 See Matt. 10:37; 19:29; Mk. 10:29-30; Lk. 14:26; 18:29. 14 Hier., Adv. Iov. 1,13,241: Non est huius loci nuptiarum angustias describere et quasi in communibus locis rhetorico exsultare sermone. 15 Ambr., De virginibus 1,6,27: Quid ergo famulatus graves et addicta viris servitia replicem feminarum, quas ante iussit Deus servire quam servos (Gen. 3:16)?

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ἐνεστῶσαν ἀνάγκην is invoked in a Latin form propter praesentem necessitatem, in which the participle ἐνεστῶσα is translated as praesens, ‘current, existing now’. Although Jerome’s response to the Jovinian’s statement on the equality of merits of virginity and marriage, included in the first book of Adversus Iovinianum, is based mainly on a detailed exegesis of 1Cor. 7, he did not raise into discussion the above mentioned interpretation of Jovinian, as he understood the necessitas in a completely different way than St Paul did while formulating his ‘advice’ on virginity. Jerome did not link it with earthly concerns, but perceived it as a reference to the sufferings in the end times. While quoting in his argument a Latin translation of the line 1Cor. 7:26, the same he employed in the Vulgate, he joined a noun necessitas with a qualifier instans, not praesens, as it was in the quoted statement of Jovinian.16 The choice of this participle, whose semantic field includes not only the meaning ‘present’ but also ‘urgent’ clearly reflects the eschatological content of this sentence.17 Explaining what is meant by the necessitas expressed in Paul’s advice, he referred to the image of sufferings that is present in all synoptic gospels, which will be experienced by humans in the end times: ‘How dreadful it will be in those days for pregnant women and nursing mothers!’ (Matt. 24:19; Mk. 13:17; Lk. 21:23). The noun ἀνάγκη used here by St Paul signifies also the sufferings in the end times in the apocalyptic Judaic tradition,18 and that may indicate that Jerome correctly interpreted the Apostle’s words, yet on the other hand, the grammatical form of the participium perfecti ἐνεστῶσα (from the verb ἐνίστημι) means that this suffering refers to the current situation, and hence Jovinian had good reasons to adopt his interpretation of this text. Even today biblical commentators are not unanimous about the interpretation of this line from the First Epistle to the Corinthians. In paragraph 13 of De sancta virginitate Augustine fiercely criticised an idea that the motivation behind choosing virginity could be the willingness to avoid earthly concerns. Although the Bishop of Hippo did not attack Jovinian by name, he undoubtedly quoted here his concept and underlying argumentation. Only by reference to this particular idea, he cited the line 1Cor. 7:26 with a reading praesens necessitas19, passed also by Jerome as a version on which Jovinian based his reasoning. Augustine states that it is an amazing stupidity 16 Hier., Adv. Iov. 1,12,239: Existimo enim, inquit, hoc opus bonum esse propter instantem necessitatem (1Cor. 7:26). Quae est ista necessitas quae, spreto vinculi coniugali, virginitatis appetitit liberationem? Vae praegnantibus et nutrientibus in illo die. 17 See Benedetto E. Prete, Matrimonio e continenza nel cristianesimo delle origini. Studio su I Cor. 7, 1-40 (Brescia, 1979), 225-7. 18 Archibald Robertson and Alfred Plummer, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the First Epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians, 2nd ed. (Edinburgh, 1964), 152. 19 See Aug., De sanct. virg. 13,13; 14,14; 19,19; 21,21; 23,23; see also Aug., De haeresibus 82. In his Speculum 349 Augustine quotes the line 1Cor. 7:26 with a reading instans necessitas.

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(mirabiliter desipiunt) to link the good of consecrated virginity with any benefits that may be derived in this world, and to prove validity of such a view on the basis of what St Paul wrote in 1Cor. 7:26.20 Interestingly, Augustine does not question the reading praesens necessitas, such an important phrase for Jovinian’s argument, which actually equates it with the so-called molestiae nuptiarum, and it is even directly stated in the note on ‘Jovinianists’, which he included in his book De haeresibus.21 If he had accepted the exegesis of this line which was suggested by Jerome, he could have easily assigned only an eschatological dimension to St Paul’s words and discredited the heresiarch’s point of view, highlighting that the Apostle’s words were misunderstood by him. He agreed with Jovinian that St Paul referred here to earthly concerns of the marital life, but simultaneously he proved that their avoidance can be justified only if they may hinder obtaining a better reward, waiting for virgins in the Kingdom of Heaven, but not because of the fact that they undermine the merits of the institution of marriage. Thus, he claimed that the Apostle’s teaching fully referred to the eternal life and his advice on avoidance of earthly concerns of marriage should be interpreted as encouragement to choose such a way of life that makes it possible to totally dedicate oneself to God, and hence, deserve greater glory in the eternal life.22 Therefore, Augustine lessened significance of the clichéd theme of molestiae nuptiarum which could be used as an argument in the discussion about the absolute good of virginity and marriage. His exegesis of St Paul’s words about the earthly concerns questioned the validity of Jovinian’s reasoning that their avoidance is the only rational motivation for those who decide to live in chastity, but also challenged Jerome’s views who believed that they undermine the absolute value of marriage.23

20 Aug., De sanct. virg. 13,13: Unde mirabiliter desipiunt, qui putant huius continentiae bonum non esse necessarium propter regnum caelorum, sed propter praesens saeculum, quod scilicet coniugia terrenis curis pluribus atque artioribus distenduntur, qua molestia virgines et continentes carent: quasi ob hoc tantum melius sit non coniugari, ut huius temporis relaxentur angustiae, non quod in futurum saeculum aliquid prosit. Hanc vanam sententiam ne cordis propria vanitate protulisse videantur, adhibent ex Apostolo testimonium, ubi ait: de virginibus autem praeceptum domini non habeo, consilium autem do, tamquam misericordiam consecutus a Deo, ut fidelis essem. Existimo itaque hoc bonum esse propter praesentem necessitatem, quia bonum est homini sic esse. 21 Aug., De haeresibus 82: […] Non sane ipse vel habebat vel habere volebat uxorem, quod non propter aliquod apud Deum maius meritum in regno vitae perpetuae profuturum, sed propter praesentem prodesse necessitatem, hoc est, ne homo coniugales patiatur molestias, disputabat. 22 Aug., De sanct. virg. 14,14: Praesens ergo est vitanda necessitas, sed tamen quae aliquid bonorum inpedit futurorum: qua necessitate vita cogitur coniugalis cogitare quae mundi sunt, quomodo placeat vir uxori vel uxor viro, non quod ea separent a regno Dei, sicut sunt peccata, quae ideo praecepto, non consilio cohibentur, quia Domino praecipienti non oboedire damnabile est; sed illud, quod in ipso Dei regno amplius haberi posset, si amplius cogitaretur quomodo placendum esset deo, minus erit utique, cum hoc ipsum minus coniugii necessitate cogitatur. 23 See Hier., Adv. Helv. 1,20,213; Ep. 22,2; Adv. Iov. 1,13,241; Ep. 49,18.

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Marriages of prophets Thanks to Jerome’s evidence we know that both Helvidius24 and Jovinian invoked examples of marriages of prophets and other figures of unquestioned authority from the Old Testament so as to prove that this institution’s merits are obvious and indisputable. They drew a conclusion based on syllogistic reasoning that a celibate person who perceives his way of life as better than the way of life adopted by patriarchs thereby sees himself as better than patriarchs and therefore should be criticised for pride. Naturally, it was quite easy to respond to such reasoning using a trivial argument that any opinions on this issue can be formed only pro conditione temporum25 since the circumstances existing in the Old Testament times considerably differed from the rules observed after Christ. Jovinian bore it in his mind and exploited a persuasive potential of examples of marriages not only from the Old Testament but also known from the New Testament: Zechariah and Elisabeth, St Peter’s mother-in-law, and several comments of St Paul’s praising marriage.26 In this way he anticipated an attempt at countering his argumentation with a ‘standard’ reference to tempus speciale circumstances, which may determine the assessment of marriage. He called vana defensio the argumentative strategy of his potential polemists, which was based on the belief that the world in its beginnings needed population growth.27 As a result, Jerome referring to his statement had to be more creative than the heresiarch could imagine. Although he also admits that ‘there is a difference in living under the Law and under the Gospel’,28 in his refutation of this argument he did not concentrate on the importance of the temporal premise, but on proving that examples used by Jovinian to support his thesis are tenuous. As much as it was possible, he tried to minimise the significance of the fact that patriarchs or prophets were married for the merits which gave them unquestioned authority among Christians. Furthermore, he presented in his treatise a list of troublesome wives and, on the other hand, eminent virgins, known from pre-Christian, GrecoRoman history and literature, which was supposed to support the everlasting and absolute superiority of celibacy over marriage.29 Contrary to Jerome, Augustine did not question the reasoning based on the examples of the prophets’ marriages that led to the conclusion on the biblical 24 Hier., Adv. Helv. 18,212: Dicis: numquid meliores sunt virgines Abraham, Isaac, et Iacob, qui habuere coniugia? 25 Hier., Adv. Helv. 20,213. 26 Hier., Adv. Iov. 1,5,215-7. 27 Ibid. 217: et consequenter infert dicens: “Si autem voluerint assumere vanam defensionem, et obtendere, quod rudis mundus eguerit incremento, audiant Paulum loquentem: Adoloscentiores viduas volo nubere, filios procreare (1Tim. 5:14) […]”. 28 Ibid. 1,24,254: Nec hoc dico, quod sanctis viris quidquam detrahere audeam; sed quod aliud sit in Lege versari, aliud in Evangelio. 29 Ibid. 1,48-9,291-6.

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legitimacy, and hence, an absolute good of this institution. In De bono coniugali he focused on the detailed explanation of a different motivation that stood behind people choosing married life in the times of the New and the Old Testament, which cannot be forgotten when examples of married patriarchs or prophets are provided in this discussion. The bishop of Hippo employed here an argument based on the causal premise, whose essence is the rule that: nulla res ipsa per se debeat aestimari, sed ex causa, cur facta sit.30 According to him, patriarchs got married, even more than once, because giving life was a necessity that they had to accept then, respecting divine law.31 But their motivation was purely spiritual, unlike that of his contemporary Christians who decided to marry because of their carnal desire to have children.32 Chastity, in his view, is a spiritual, not a bodily virtue33 and patriarchs also had it, but could not put it into practice as they had to respond to the challenges of their epoch. In the foregoing argumentation Augustine polemicized with those, who like Helvidius and Jovinian, did not see the difference between the merits of marriage in the Old Testament age and the times after Christ but also indirectly argued with Jerome, who in his response to Jovinian tried to prove that the value of chastity is superior to the good of marriage no matter what circumstances are present. The bishop of Hippo refers also to an accusation of pride pointed at people living in celibacy and suggests a clear answer for it.34 In order to resist such an attack he encourages them to rely on the basic thesis of his treatise, i.e. to primarily recognize the spiritual character of chastity. Thanks to such an interpretation it is possible to speak of this virtue also in the case of patriarchs who had to get married due to the requirements of their epoch, but they owned it as an inborn feature (in animi habitu).35 Augustine treats such obedience to God as the highest virtue which determined their demeanour. The case of Abraham is here presented as proof that they would have easily remained celibate if it had been demanded or just encouraged by God. Due to his obedience the patriarch 30 Sulpitius Victor, Institutiones oratoriae 54; Quint., Institutio oratoria 5,10,33; see also H. Lausberg § 379. 31 Aug., De bono coniugali 13,15, ed. J. Zycha, CSEL 41 (Vienna, 1900): Illis vero temporibus, cum adhuc propheticis sacramentis salutis nostrae mysterium velabatur, etiam qui ante nuptias tales errant, officio propagandi nuptias copulabant, non victi libidine, sed ducti pietate. 32 Ibid. 17,19: In istis enim carnale est ipsum desiderium filiorum; in illis autem spiritale erat, quia sacramento illius temporis congruebat. 33 Ibid. 21,25: Continentia quippe non corporis, sed animi virtus est. 34 Ibid. 22,27: Ac per hoc ab eis, qui corrumpunt bonos mores conloquiis malis, inani et vana versutia dicitur homini christiano continenti et nuptias recusanti: Tu ergo melior quam Abraham? […] Tu ergo melior quam Sara? 35 Ibid.: Ego quidem non sum melior quam Abraham, sed melior est castitas celibum quam castitas nuptiarum: quarum Abraham unam habet in usu, ambas in habitu. […] Ego melior sum, de his, quae virtute huius continentiae carent, quod de Sara non credo. Fecit ergo illa cum ista virtute, quod illi tempori congruebat […].

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was ready to sacrifice his son, an act whose value exceeds any other ascetic sacrifice. The bishop of Hippo developed here an argument based on the rhetorical relation a maiore ad minus, which definitely could captivate the imagination of his readers.36 Augustine knew very well that blaming virgins for pride was not always ungrounded. In the epilogue of his De bono coniugali he warned all those who lived in consecrated celibacy to remain humble37 and in the treatise De sancta virginitate, which was complementary to that work, he discussed the issue of pride as one of the key problems, to which he devoted nearly half of the whole text. Conclusion The bishop of Hippo referred very seriously to the above discussed clichéd arguments on the merits of marriage and virginity. What is interesting, contrary to Jerome, in both cases he accepted the value of the premises proven by the Bible, on which Jovinian based his reasoning about the equality of both states. Thus, he neither questioned the exegesis of St Paul’s words from 1Cor. 7:26 as referring to the avoidance of earthly concerns associated with marriage nor questioned the example of married patriarchs as the justification for the absolute good of marriage. But he arrived at completely different conclusions, focusing on the analysis of reasons behind the choices made by patriarchs and virgins. In the case of marriages of biblical figures from the Old Testament epoch, the rhetorical causa/ratio faciendi is represented by the undeniable good, that is, the absolute obedience to God. He treated chastity as a spiritual virtue, which virtually could not be put into practice at that time. He was also convinced that conscious avoidance of concerns of marriage by virgins must aim at removing from their life only those obstacles which might have a negative impact not on their earthly, but spiritual and eschatological good.

36 Ibid. 24,32: Quanto enim facilius possent vel iussione, vel exhortatione Dei non concumbere, qui prolem, cui uni propagandae concumbendo serviebat, oboediendo poterat immolare! 37 Ibid. 26,35: Pueros quoque ac virgines integritatem ipsam Deo dicantes multo maxime commonemus, ut tanta norint humilitate tuendum esse, quod in terra interim vivunt, quanto magis caeli est quod voverunt.

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