But, Why Not Me?
This question, in the mouth of a friend of Augustine’s, is the key to understanding Augustinian Spirituality. In Book Eight of his Confessions, Augustine describes himself in a garden in Milan before he finally took the step to commit himself wholly to Jesus Christ and to be baptized. In one of the most dramatic conversion stories in Christian history, Augustine describes how he is struggling with all of his sexual passions; he can not become chaste as he wishes. While in the midst of this inner struggle, he tells us, “a mighty storm arose in me, bringing a mighty rain of tears.” He leaps up and runs into a remote section of the garden. While sobbing out of control under a fig tree, he hears a child’s voice singing over and over again, Tolle, lege, tolle lege, which means “Pick it up and read it.” Augustine experiences this as a message to him from God. He returns to the bench where he had been reading St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans. He seized the book, opened it, and read silently the first text he found: Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and impurities, not in contention and envy, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no provisions for the flesh in its concupiscenses. (Romans 13:13) “A light of utter confidence shone in my heart,” he tells us. “All the darkness of uncertainty vanished.”
It is a stunning story, perhaps even polished up to grab our attention and lure us in as we read it. Except for the opening line, there is one significant feature left out of this summary. I believe it to be at the heart of understanding Augustine and Augustinian Spirituality. During this dramatic encounter with God, Augustine’s dear friend, Alypius, was sitting on the garden bench nearby. To ignore this, or to erase the conversation between Augustine and Alypius which followed, is to miss the unique gift to the Church that Augustine and Augustinian Spirituality offers.
“Then leaving my finger in the place or marking it by some other sign, I closed the book and in complete calm told the whole thing to Alypius and he similarly told me what had been going on in himself, of which I knew nothing.” And I here paraphrase what Alypius asked his friend in so many words: But, why not me? He asked to see what Augustine had read. Augustine showed him the passage from St. Paul. “He looked further than I had read,” Augustine tells us, “I had not known what followed. And this is what followed: Make room for the person who is weak in faith.” (Romans 14:1, tr. Boulding) Alypius applied this to himself and told Augustine so. “And he was confirmed by this message, and with no trouble wavering gave himself to God’s good will and purpose.” Augustine and Alypius are converted together.
Except possibly for the Emmaus story (Luke 24:13), this is the only story I have heard of where two people are converted together. It offers a model of a spiritual journey that is of great importance to the Church today. In contrast to the individual person or soul’s journey to God–the classic model of the spiritual life made famous by St. Ignatius and St.Teresa of Avila—the Augustinian way is to travel together to God. In fact, Augustine describes earlier in the Book Eight mentioned above how he and Alypius were told a similar story of two young men who were converted by reading the book of St. Antony of the Desert together, and how they had given up everything to follow Christ. It seems very likely that Augustine wanted to evoke the same reaction in the readers of his Confessions. Hearing another person’s story of how God changed his once lost heart can be the flame that ignites the hearer to discover God calling him or herself. This is how the Gospel has moved people through the centuries. It is how Augustine changed. It is even more powerful when two are changed in this way. And so Augustine hopes that in ones and twos we will be touched by his conversion as we hear the story of his exploding heart. Together to God—the Augustinian Way.
To make this point unforgettable, in Book Nine of his Confessions, Augustine describes how he had a similarly profound religious experience with his mother, Monica, at his side. They too were near a garden. The famous painting by Ary Scheffer even portrays the two of them hand in hand. Isn’t it clear that, for Augustine, sharing our faith journey together in the deepest way is the path to God? This is the main rationale for the liturgy. We worship together in community to experience God together. There are many other examples of how we are already doing this, but the present moment in our Church’s history seems ready-made to claim the Together to God image for Augustine, and for ourselves as his followers. The more we understand and practice this pathway to continuing conversion, the more we can help others use this image to complement the classic conversion models of an individual soul and God. Finally, for those of us who take vows to live as Augustinians, we have to admit that living together in “community,” and praying together, does not necessarily mean the deep and Scriptural sharing of souls and hearts that Augustine demonstrates in his Confessions—Anima una et cor unum in Deum. But we can identify this path as our ideal, and we can try.
Together to God—but, why not me?
Why not us?
But, Why Not Me?
This question, in the mouth of a friend of Augustine’s, is the key to understanding Augustinian Spirituality. In Book Eight of his Confessions, Augustine describes himself in a garden in Milan before he finally took the step to commit himself wholly to Jesus Christ and to be baptized. In one of the most dramatic conversion stories in Christian history, Augustine describes how he is struggling with all of his sexual passions; he can not become chaste as he wishes. While in the midst of this inner struggle, he tells us, “a mighty storm arose in me, bringing a mighty rain of tears.” He leaps up and runs into a remote section of the garden. While sobbing out of control under a fig tree, he hears a child’s voice singing over and over again, Tolle, lege, tolle lege, which means “Pick it up and read it.” Augustine experiences this as a message to him from God. He returns to the bench where he had been reading St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans. He seized the book, opened it, and read silently the first text he found: Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and impurities, not in contention and envy, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no provisions for the flesh in its concupiscenses. (Romans 13:13) “A light of utter confidence shone in my heart,” he tells us. “All the darkness of uncertainty vanished.”
It is a stunning story, perhaps even polished up to grab our attention and lure us in as we read it. Except for the opening line, there is one significant feature left out of this summary. I believe it to be at the heart of understanding Augustine and Augustinian Spirituality. During this dramatic encounter with God, Augustine’s dear friend, Alypius, was sitting on the garden bench nearby. To ignore this, or to erase the conversation between Augustine and Alypius which followed, is to miss the unique gift to the Church that Augustine and Augustinian Spirituality offers.
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