D. Lyle Dabney, "Nature Dis-Graced and Grace De-Natured: The Problematic of the Augustinian Doctrine of Grace for Contemporary Theology," Journal for Christian Theological Research [http://apu.edu/~CTRF/articles/2000_articles/dabney.html] 5:3 (2000).


Nature Dis-Graced and Grace De-Natured: The Problematic of the Augustinian Doctrine of Grace for Contemporary Theology

D. Lyle Dabney
Marquette University, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

1. "Contemporary theology" Kilian McDonnell writes, "has turned from a theology of the Word to a theology of the world".(1) That statement, it seems to me, neatly sums up the current situation in theology. After a period during the first half of this century in which theologians concerned themselves primarily with questions of their discipline's identity and character, they have in recent years turned to address as a matter of first principle the physical, the social and the political issues in the world about them. Thus it is, to name but a few, that ecological theology, black theology, political theology, liberation theology, feminist theology, and yes, even the kind of pneumatology espoused by someone like McDonnell,(2) are each in their own way seeking to go beyond a "theology of the Word" and develop a "theology of the world".(3)

2. In the course of this effort to shift theological direction, a number of fundamental issues have been raised which have yet to be fully examined.(4) Perhaps the most urgent of these is the problematic of the Western doctrine of grace. If contemporary theologians wish to develop a theology of the world, it is imperative that they come to grips with the fact that the soteriological categories of our Western traditions offer precious little help in doing so. For the Western doctrine of grace has concerned itself almost exclusively with the "innerness" or the "soul" of the individual, and has but rarely addressed itself to human being or human society or the material world as a whole. In point of fact, basic to the Western doctrine has been the distinction between the world as a whole and salvation, i.e., between "nature" and "grace" a distinction which has had "disastrous results,"(5) in that it has led to "God and world" and "creation and redemption" being torn asunder. The consequence for our theology is, in the apt phrase of the former Göttingen systematician Otto Weber, that "Natur ist gottlos und Gott ist naturlos geworden";(6) that is, ""nature" has become "godless", and God "natureless"."

3. If a theology of the world is ever to be developed, therefore, this disjunction, indeed, this virtual contradiction between "God and world" and between "creation and redemption" in our thinking and doing must be addressed. In the following, I would like first of all to undertake an examination of Augustine, the source of this Western doctrine with its axiomatic separation of grace from nature, so that we might better understand how and why it has developed as it has. For, as Eugene TeSelle pointed out some years ago:

[Augustine] may have even greater relevance today than in the past, for when theological edifices built during the Middle Ages and since are being threatened, if they have not already crumbled, a new creativity, as we are often told, is demanded; and if we are not to start out light-headedly elaborating our latest fancies, we would do well to dismantle the later edifices and look again at the original components from which they have been built, the insights that gave impetus to the whole development.(7)

4. On the basis of that `dismantling' and examination of the "original components", I will, secondly, make a few observations on the role played by the problematic of the Augustinian doctrine of grace in the current discussion and the theological task that it seems to me lies before us as we seek to overcome it.

I.

5. That which above all else distinguishes the theology of the West from that of the East is the singular turn taken by Western thought in the development of its doctrine of grace.(8) Whereas in the East this aspect of Christian doctrine appears as part of a larger and more comprehensive soteriology that - at least in intention - addresses the salvation of all creation,(9) in the West grace has come to occupy a position independent of, one might even say, in lieu of, a broader soteriology and to concentrate almost solely on the salvation of humankind.(10) In effect, then, this anthropocentric doctrine of grace has become the soteriology of the West.

6. The one who more than any other is responsible for this turn of events is Augustine (354-430), Bishop of Hippo and foremost of the Latin Fathers "doctor gratiae," as he was hailed in the middle ages. Indeed, Jaroslav Pelikan's evaluation of Augustine's importance to Western theology in general could well have been made about his influence on the concept of grace in particular: "In a manner and to a degree unique for any Christian thinker outside the New Testament, Augustine has determined the form and content of church doctrine for most of Western Christian history."(11) To that one must immediately add, however, that the way in which Augustine has "determined the form and content" of the development of the Western doctrine of grace is anything but unambiguous, especially with regard to his influence on the Western understanding of the relation between nature and grace. For with Augustine begins that fatal tendency in Western theology to deny grace to the realm of creation and to reduce its work to the sphere of the soul's redemption. Thus, in the theology of the Bishop of Hippo, one might say, nature suffered "dis-grace" and grace was correspondingly "de-natured". And precisely therein lies both the difficulty and the challenge facing contemporary theology's effort to develop a theology of the world.

7. To properly understand the problematic of nature and grace in Augustine, it is necessary to see it within the context of the overarching structure of his theology. By no means a closed system, Augustine's thought had its genesis in the root problems which confronted him in his early life, and was then further developed in response to the challenges faced in the course of an ecclesiastical career lived out in the twilight of the Roman Empire in the West. Seen in terms of its historical evolution, there were two concerns which lay at the root of Augustine's thought: knowledge leading to the vita beata, the blessed life, and Divine grace as the remedy for human sin.(12) Each makes it appearance early in his development.

8. The first issue, knowledge, is represented by his encounter with Cicero's Hortensius at the age of nineteen. This led to his intellectual conversion to the classical ideal of philosophia as a turning from the temporal world to a passionate love for eternal wisdom whereby one ascends to the blessedness of the enjoyment of the highest good (frui summo bono).(13) Augustine�s thought was stamped thereby with those features which were in the future to be characteristic of his theology: the notion of the good life as the seeking after the beatific vision of the "highest nature" or "absolute truth" (which he simply identified with the Christian God) through the pursuit of such knowledge by the cultivation of the virtues.(14) Thus, this encounter represents a turning point in Augustine's life; for it was Cicero's presentation of the classical ideal of philosophia and the issues it entailed that, through all the twists and turns of his evolution, "supplied a continuity to Augustine's subsequent development."(15)

9. Only shortly thereafter, the second concern, grace, makes its appearance in the form of the Manichaeism that Augustine embraced as a "hearer" for nine years.(16) If philosophy offered him a program for a life in which he could "make progress",(17) Manichaeism addressed the existential question that seized his attention once philosophia had led him to undertake the practice of disciplined life and thought: unde hoc malum?, "Where does this evil come from?"(18) Augustine�s experience was that his ascent to the summum bonum was threatened by the recalcitrance of human nature afflicted by sin. The Manichees claimed to offer the truly Christian "wisdom" of a rational understanding of the dualism of good and evil, and - what was for Augustine just as important - reasonable grounds for confidence in one's liberation through Divine favor. This was very different from the "superstition" or the assertions of faith resting on nothing other than the auctoritas terribilis of the Church, as Augustine characterized the Catholic faith in which he had been raised.(19) In sum, then, the two issues fundamental for Augustine�s thought were knowledge and grace. The unfolding of his theology turned around the struggle to reconcile what one Catholic scholar has termed the resultant "profound dichotomy" in his life and thought between these two realms of the intellectual and the moral.(20)

10. Perhaps the most helpful way to get at and analyze these two issues is to approach them in a broadly chronological manner, acknowledging from the outset that this approach does not do the issue complete justice. That disclaimer made, it can be said that, while the issues of knowledge and grace are present and interpenetrate one another throughout Augustine's life and work, a definite shift of emphasis in the course of his thought is discernable.(21) This was due not least of all to his move from an early philosophical to a later ecclesiastical milieu.(22) Thus, while one runs across statements concerning Divine grace in, for instance, his early Soliloquies (386/387) like potestas nostra ipse (sc. Deus) est, "God is our power",(23) the clear, over-riding concern throughout his early work is that of the philosophically conceived pursuit of knowledge or of beatitudo - just as it is in the Soliloquies itself. And in his later work, while railing on occasion against those who too hastily dismiss knowledge and reason (intellectum valde ama!(24)) and developing further the claim that knowledge is evidence of the illuminating presence of eternal, immutable truth in the soul of the individual,(25) the emphasis is just as clearly placed on the pastoral issue of sin and grace. The turning point in his thought, that which serves roughly as the dividing line between the �earlier� and �later� phases of his thought, occurred in the last years of the fourth century as Augustine answered a series of questions about grace posed by his friend Simplician.(26) If we would understand the relation of nature and grace in Augustine�s thought, then, we must grasp it in the context of these two phases or aspects of his teaching on knowledge and grace.

11. The first phase of Augustine� theology began with his return to the Catholic Church and had as its primary concern the question of knowledge. The way for that return was paved by his loss of hope that the Manichees would ever, or could ever, provide answers to his philosophical questions.(27) But the Church to which he returned in 386 was not the same as the one he had left behind - as he saw it, that had been the provincial, traditional faith of his North African homeland, a Church still bearing the impress of the Jewish synagogue.(28) The form of Catholicism which attracted Augustine, and to which he returned, was rather the urban and sophisticated faith proclaimed by Ambrose, Bishop of Milan; a faith couched in the cultured, classical language of Neoplatonism. But whereas Christian doctrine and Neoplatonic doctrine had always remained separate and distinct for Ambrose, for Augustine they were from the very beginning virtually fused into one.(29) Thus, from its inception, Augustine�s renewed allegiance to the Catholic faith was understood in light of the philosophy of Plotinus.(30)

12. Both that virtual identification of Catholic doctrine with Neoplatonist philosophy as well as the ramifications of this fusion of the two for the question of the relation between nature and grace are immediately apparent when one turns to Augustine�s first extant work: Against the Academics (386).(31) For in that document, after discussing the excitement the Neoplatonist writings had aroused in him and equating that with the reawakening of his childhood faith,(32) Augustine offered an account of the history of pagan philosophy(33) and specified how he understood that history to relate to the Christian Gospel. In that account, he portrayed Plato as the greatest of all the philosophers because he taught the doctrine of the mundus intelligibilis, the rational world of immaterial truth and reality, which was at best merely reflected in this sensible, material world with which we are familiar,(34) It was this truth, he claimed, that Plotinus had recovered after it had been long denied by the materialism of the Stoics and the skepticism of the Academy. And it was that truth which the disciples of Plotinus championed; above all the greatest among them, Porphyry. He clearly taught the spiritual, non-material nature of God and had even caught a glimpse, as from afar, of the doctrine of the trinity.(35) Even more importantly, Augustine continued, Porphyry had maintained that a way stood open not just for the cultured and educated philosopher to attain salvation, i.e. the liberation of the soul, but that even the great mass of the unlettered and untutored could achieve such blessedness. Now, it is at precisely that point, at the question of a universal way of salvation, he declared, that pagan philosophy faltered. For whereas Porphyry had been forced to confess that philosophy had failed to discover that redemption, God, Augustine claimed, had made just such a way of universal salvation manifest in Jesus Christ and had commissioned the Catholic Church to offer it to all humankind.(36) As he later formulated the issue in his Confessions: "The philosophers "were able to judge the world with understanding" even though they "did not find its Lord" (Wisd. 13:9)."(37) The implications of this account for the question of the relationship between nature and grace is clear: Augustine understood "the finding of the Lord" on the part of the Church as the fulfillment of that which the philosophers had themselves seen. Implicit - and unexamined - therefore is the assumption that nature and grace stand in a relationship of continuum.

13. Correspondingly, the way that Augustine claimed led to God was reminiscent of Neoplatonism itself.(38) It began with an act of individual will whereby one submitted oneself in faith, conceived of as "assenting thought,"(39) to the Divine auctoritas encountered in Holy Scripture, in the sacraments and in the doctrine of the Catholic Church. In so doing, one was directed and enabled to turn from the material, sensible world to the Divine Light within the soul that created humanity to begin with,(40) and so set out on an itinerarium mentis ad Deum, nothing less than "a journey of the mind to God."(41) Thereby one ascended from temporal faith through knowledge and so on to understanding of eternal truth and thus to beatitudo, or as Augustine expressed it in 386: animo deum habere, id est deo frui, "to have God in the soul, that is, to enjoy God".(42)

14. It is here in this movement of the soul from faith to knowledge, "the central theme of Augustine's theology,"(43) as Alfred Schindler points out, that the issue of the relationship between nature and grace emerges most clearly in this phase of his thought. For this side of the two-sidedness of Augustine�s theology is defined by the fact that both nature and grace are encompassed and defined by a larger ontology; indeed, they are nothing other than two aspects of the one creative act of God(44). As such, both "nature" and "grace" are expressions of God's one all-encompassing providential will and work. All of creation, Augustine insisted, is defined by and shows forth Divine providence in all its manifold aspects.(45) That means for this movement from faith to knowledge that, because these two different activities are so utterly intertwined in the one movement from time to eternity, it is impossible to differentiate between that which is human capacity and activity for God and that which is God�s capacity and activity for humanity.(46) If, on the one hand, the ability to know God can be described as "a natural ability,"(47) because "Augustine assumes that the mind, by its nature, is set in relation to the eternal Word and is capable of immediate intuition of God,"(48) then, on the other hand, it must be acknowledged that eventually, for Augustine, nature could itself be seen as an expression of grace.(49) This merely reflects the influence upon him of the Neoplatonic conception of a world in which all the individual parts relate to one another in an unbroken continuum; a world that demanded, in the words of Plotinus, "no drama of redemption."(50) Therefore, as Peter Brown writes: "Augustine's Platonic universe admitted of no brutal cleavages between the traditional authority of the Catholic religion and his own reason."(51)

15. Within Augustine's understanding of creation and Divine providence, then, "nature" and "grace" stand together in the movement from faith to knowledge, just as in the historical movement from pagan philosophy to Christian theology. When the question is posed as to exactly how the two relate to one another, one receives in this "early" phase of his thought "no precise and satisfying answers."(52) Rather, one finds in the Augustine of what John Burnaby called "that period of sanguine intellectualism recorded in the early treatises"(53) simply the claim he shared with the Platonic tradition that knowledge of God was to be found in and through the inner world of the human soul, and the exhortation expressed in the very first scripture citation recorded in his writings: "Seek and you will find." (Mt 7:7)(54)

16. In summary, then, the initial phase of Augustine�s thought emphasized precisely that effort to fulfill that optimistic program of seeking and finding; a program that knew no disjunction indeed, barely acknowledged a differentiation between nature and grace. That confident seeking led him early on, Oliver Du Roy notes, to make "so daring an effort to grasp intellectually the gifts of faith that it might appear to be a gnosis."(55) Augustine's own judgement is hardly less harsh. Years later, looking back on the months and years spent in a kind of spiritual retirement, the Christianae vitae otium,(56) following his return to the Catholic Church during which his initial understanding of Christianity found expression, he confessed to God and to all that cared to listen in: "The books that I wrote there were indeed now written in your service...But they still breathe the spirit of the school of pride, as if they were at the last gasp."(57)

17. If Augustine's "early" thought was primarily concerned with the question of knowledge and the vita beata, then in his "later" writings, as Rudolf Lorenz points out, "the doctrine of grace became increasingly the center of his theology."(58) The fifteen years that followed his baptism in 386 saw Augustine exchange, first, the multicolored clothing of the late-Roman gentleman for the monk's cowl, that in turn for the black robe of the priest, and that finally for the bishop's miter. Yet those years witnessed more than just a change in Augustine's appearance; he changed his mind as well.

18. That change manifested itself in any number of ways, but perhaps most clearly with regard to the issue of the freedom of the will.(59) In the initial flush of confidence and excitement in the years immediately following 386, Augustine had vociferously affirmed free will in his writings against the Manichees in order to deny that the creator is responsible for the existence of evil.(60) By 396, however, he was of another opinion. Responding to a letter from his friend, the aged Simplician of Milan, he took up the question in an exposition of Romans 9:10-29. There he expressed the doctrine that would characterize his thought from that time forward: faith is not the work of a free will but of the free grace of God; and apart from the grace of God's calling "we cannot even will."(61)

19. But in a real way that change was merely indicative of a deeper and broader shift in Augustine's fundamental perspective. For the transition from a life of Christian retreat to that of a bishop of the Catholic Church was paralleled by a transformation in what can only be termed his "mood". In contrast to his earlier optimism, Augustine's thought during his middle and later years became increasingly pessimistic.(62) More and more, corresponding to his heightened concern for grace, sin became the central problem to be addressed in his theology,(63) and the notion of the praedestinatio as well as of the perseveratio sanctorum through the unremitting grace of God were its necessary and ultimate correlates. Accordingly, blessedness becomes for the mature Augustine not something to attain in this life but that for which one could only hope in the life to come.(64)

20. And with that change in mood came a change in orientation. If the trajectory of the soul's journey in Augustine's "earlier" thought had been one of tranquil ascent from faith through knowledge to the blessedness of the enjoyment of eternal truth, then, in his "later" thought, human existence came back down to earth and was viewed as marked by a longing for an end that was only to be reached beyond this life after a long and arduous journey. Thus, in his "early" treatise On True Religion, he rhapsodized that when one had come to faith, "a way of life agreeable to the divine commandments will purge the mind and make it fit to perceive spiritual things which are neither past nor future but abide ever the same, liable to no change."(65) In his Confessions, however, he later agonized: "Is not human life on earth a trial in which there is no respite?"(66) It is this Pauline "horizontal" rather than the "earlier" Neoplatonic "vertical" trajectory that marks the clear tendency in his "later" understanding of creaturely existence. As Margaret Miles writes: "Although ascent never disappears from Augustine's interpretive vocabulary, pilgrimage to the city of God comes to be his primary model."(67)

21. This shift in perspective establishes the context for understanding the other side of Augustine's conception of grace and its relation to nature - that �later� formulation which is often taken as normative for his doctrine as a whole. For this change leads him to a new and deeper insight into Divine grace. One of the first expressions of that was a fuller understanding of his own experience of grace, as seen in the portrayal of his conversion in the Confessions. In the book he pictured himself as a man grown desperate in the face of his utter captivity in "the chain of sexual desire."(68) Then, as Augustine continues, he went on, one day he sought refuge in a garden, weeping and calling on God. Seemingly in answer to his cry that an end be brought "this very hour" to the impure life he had lived - he heard the voice of a child chanting: tolle, lege; tolle, lege, "pick up and read, pick up and read."(69) He immediately returned to his own courtyard and took up the New Testament he had been studying and there read the words of Romans 13:13f: "Not in riots and drunken parties, not in eroticism and indecencies, not in strife and rivalry, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh in its lusts."(70) Only in this manner, Augustine would have his readers know, did he find his peace with God. Not through any effort of his own; for God, he claimed, had set him "face to face with himself" and had forced him to behold his sin.(71) Thus he brought his account to an end with praise and thanksgiving to God for the deliverance he had experienced: "The effect of your converting me to yourself", he wrote, "was that I did not now seek a wife and had no ambition for success in this world."(72) And so, in this description of his conversion, written better than a decade after the event itself and just as he commenced his work as bishop,(73) Augustine "emphasized this experience of the force of habit because he now thought that such an experience proved conclusively that change could only happen through processes entirely outside his control."(74) His fuller understanding of his own experience of salvation, therefore, was one in which he perceived Divine grace as standing over and against his human nature; moreover, as one in which only God's grace could deliver him from the enslaved powerlessness of a human nature utterly enthralled by sin.

22. But it was the appearance of Pelagius(75) and his disciple Caelestius in North Africa in 411 that elicited the classic formulation of Augustine's "later" understanding of grace. While by no means the cause of Augustine's theology of grace,(76) the controversy that ensued was the occasion for the unfolding of that doctrine which is often taken as exhaustive for his conception of the relation between nature and grace. For in that struggle with this man whose ideas were in so many ways the mirror opposite of his own, Augustine developed categories that enabled him to understand and expound that doctrine with a fullness and depth hitherto unknown in his writings.(77) Before that struggle was concluded, he would spread his pamphlets and letters contra Pelagius all over the Mediterranean world expounding the "'Augustinian system' in its most extreme form."(78)

23. Like Augustine himself, Pelagius (circa 350-418) was a man from the provinces who went to Rome about 380 to make his career. But whereas Augustine remained in Italy only a few years and then returned to retirement in the hinterland and finally a provincial episcopal see, Pelagius stayed in Rome some thirty years(79) and made his reputation as a layman, an ascetic,(80) and a teacher of "aristocratic asceticism"(81) in the private and public halls of the city on the Tiber. Originally from Britain, Pelagius was born and bred in a missionary environment which, combined with the influence of Stoic philosophy, left him impatient with the widespread confusion about human nature and the powers with which the Creator had endowed the creature. Instead, as an optimistic theologian interested above all in concrete Christian praxis,(82) he wanted to change things for the better in both Church and empire.(83) Faced with a Church reeling under the impact of the sudden influx of the masses as the Catholic Church became first favored and then established, Pelagianism "was the most pungent protest in Late Roman literature against the subtle pressure...to leave the Christian life to recognized saints and to continue to live like ordinary men, like pagans. Pelagius wanted every Christian to be a monk."(84) Faced with an empire in ceaseless crisis, he was a man with a program who was convinced he could change the course of events through teaching and exhortation. Thus, while the catastrophes overtaking the empire led many to turn inward and seek retirement or retreat, Pelagius turned outward in vigorous word and deed.

24. The message Pelagius so forcibly proclaimed was forged in debate with the Manichaeans;(85) once again, like that of the 'early' Augustine. The central conviction of his teaching was that, as part of God's creation, humanity in both body and soul was good.(86) That goodness was expressed first and foremost in the rationality that permitted human beings to freely choose good or evil and to be responsible for those choices. If it is possible for human beings to choose the good, reasoned Pelagius, then it is obligatory for them to do so; and that raised the debated question about the state of human nature.(87) Against those who claimed that sin had ruined human nature and was now inevitable, he argued that, although all human beings were, as a matter of fact, sinners, their sin is not the inevitable result of a 'fallen nature', but consists rather in the following of the reprehensible example of Adam and Eve in disobeying God's command.(88) Sin is, therefore, an act of the will and is not to be identified with but rather differentiated from human nature. Upon this differentiation, Pelagius based two important arguments. First, regarding the will, that it can only actualize or not actualize the potential capacities and powers inherent in human nature.(89) And second, with regard to sin, that, since it is an act of the will, sin can no more 'ruin' human nature than the choice not to open one's eyes can 'ruin' one's sight or to close one's ears can 'ruin' one's hearing. For the will, the Briton insisted, cannot take away what is inherent in human nature.(90) Thus, the power of sin, he concluded, was not to be attributed to the corruption of human nature, but as necessitas consuetudinis, a 'necessity of habit'(91) � it was rather to be understood in psychological and sociological terms as vicious individual and corporate habits.

25. Known as a biblical exegete (indeed, like Augustine himself, as an exegete of Paul(92)), Pelagius offered an interpretation of the message of the Bible that corresponded to this account of sin and human nature. He began, of course, by emphasizing the goodness of God's creation of humankind, seen first and foremost in the powers of human reason. The sin of Adam, Pelagius claimed, brought on not a change in human nature but a loss or diminution of human conscience, leading to the establishment of the reign of sin in the conventions of community and individual life. It was that state of affairs that lasted until the giving of the law through Moses which, though most definitely an act of Divine grace, could only inform human beings of their created goodness, not set them free from sin's power, the habitus of sin.(93) Freedom, he alleged, came first in and through the words and deeds of Jesus Christ, who revealed human nature in all its goodness and made obedience to God�s command 'easier'. For through his death on the cross, Christ has forgiven humanity of its sin and, in baptism, freed it from sin�s power. Now, Pelagius declared, nothing less than the Divine grace of creation,(94) the created goodness of human nature, has come once again into its own; and, guided by the daily exhortation and teaching of Jesus, humanity is free once more to exercise its God-given freedom of will and choose for the good. In all this, Pelagius proclaimed sola fide and sola gratia with a pointedness and power "as hardly another theologian [would] before Luther," writes Ekkehard Mühlenburg.(95) It was this doctrine which came to classic expression in his treatises Nature (415) and The Freedom of the Will (416/417).

26. It was not Pelagius himself, but his disciple, Caelestius, who brought about the collision between this kind of theology, in so many ways reminiscent of the thought of the 'early' Augustine, and the bishop of Hippo. Appearing in Carthage in 411, Caelestius immediately involved himself in controversy by calling into question infant baptism and that doctrine on which it was founded: original sin.(96) Beginning in 412, Augustine mounted a continuous attack on Pelagianism in a series of treatises, sermons and letters against the opinions of Caelestius and then against the writings of his master, chiefly Pelagius' Nature. The substance of Augustine's response is intimated by the title of what was perhaps his own chief reply to what he perceived as a challenge to all he held to be true,(97) indeed, to the continued existence of the Church itself;(98) Nature and Grace (415). In the startling ferocity with which Augustine assailed the thought - if not the person - of Pelagius we can perhaps discern something of the self-criticism in the Bishop's heart concerning his own theological beginnings.(99) Intimating that the teacher of this doctrine was a man who simply did not understand "why he was a Christian,"(100) Augustine depicted him as championing a theology of hominis naturam contra dei gratiam, 'human nature verses divine grace',(101) that would "render the cross of Christ of no effect."(102) For grace, he insisted, "without which neither infants or adults can be saved, is not rendered for any merits, but is given gratis, on account of which it is called gratia."(103) Augustine revealed thereby quite clearly the categories that he was to employ in carrying out his refutation of Pelagianism's claims: humanity, though created good, was now defined by sin and was therefore 'dis-graced'; grace belonged properly not to creation but to redemption and was thus 'de-natured'. "We can observe here, if anywhere", Adolph Harnack commented at the turn of this century, "the 'logic' of history. There has never, perhaps, been another crisis of equal importance in Church history in which the opponents have expressed the principles at issue so clearly and abstractly."(104)

27. The doctrine of grace which Augustine unfolded "so clearly and abstractly" in this response to Pelagius is marked by at least three fundamental characteristics of import to anyone interested in developing a 'theology of the world': 1) a restricting of the meaning of the term 'nature' to 'human nature', 2) a defining of grace in such a way as to place it in opposition to 'nature' so defined, and 3) a narrowing of the realm of grace to the 'interior' or the 'soul' of the individual. The remainder of our examination of Augustine's understanding of nature and grace will follow that pattern.

28. The first characteristic is the implicit limiting of the term 'nature' to refer strictly to "the nature of the human race,"(105) thus excluding all that is non-human. The debate between Augustine and Pelagius from the very beginning was about anthropology, and the question of creation as a whole played no significant role. "Like Socrates", notes John Randall, "Augustine turned his back on trees and stones and sought man."(106) Now that should by no means lead us to infer that Augustine any more than Pelagius had contempt for the extra-human world about him. For the Bishop of Hippo, reflecting the profound influence of Neoplatonism upon his thought, the goodness of all the various parts of the cosmos was axiomatic. As Eugène Portalié writes: "they are good in themselves because of their matter and their origin (imitations of the eternal ideas); they are good in their destiny, since every being praises God."(107) But above all, for Augustine just as much as for Pelagius, the value of creation is derived from its being God's own work. Thus, in his magnum opus et arduum, The City of God, he summarizes his whole argument at the beginning, in the middle and again at the conclusion of an extended apology for creation against those who maintain that it is somehow intrinsically evil with the repeated declaration: "the good God produced a good creation."(108)

29. Yet, despite his interest in the world about him,(109) creation never represented for Augustine an end in itself; the world was, for him, not something 'to enjoy' (frui), but 'to use' (uti).(110) From Neoplatonism Augustine had learned to view all that is as existing in a hierarchy of being. The human soul occupied a middle position in this hierarchy and was to 'use' that which ranked lower than itself, the realm of the material and sensible, and to 'enjoy' that which was above it, the Eternal, Truth, God.(111) The world of nature was there, according to Augustine, solely to be 'used' by humanity in the sense that it, as a sign, led human beings to "look beyond"(112) creation to the Creator. Indeed, he condemned love of the world; for as Neoplatonism had taught him, it is by definition incomplete and passing away.(113) Therefore, as Hugh Pope writes: "It is not the facts of nature of which he is enamored so much as the Law, the Reason, the Mind behind those facts. In a word, it was God, the Author of nature, whom he was forever seeking."(114)

30. It is this conception of the created world that finally provides the key to understanding Augustine's anthropocentrism. We must certainly remember that Augustine was responding to the teaching of Pelagius, who, in the course of his argument for 'free will', himself equated 'nature' with 'human nature'.(115) Yet the challenge of Pelagianism merely led to the further explication of a tendency already present in Augustine's theology.(116) For, having reviewed his account of the hierarchy of being and the position assigned to humanity as opposed to the rest of creation on that model, we are now in a position to recognize the deeper reason that extra-human creation is excluded from his definition of 'nature': namely, that of all that is found in the hierarchy of being, it is none other than human beings and human beings alone, according to Augustine, who are to seek after God. Only they, but precisely they, must and can and do pray as he does at the very beginning of the Confessions: "You have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you."(117) For Augustine, then, both as the foe of Pelagius and as one steeped in Neoplatonism, the nature which is addressed by God's grace was not that of creation in general, but solely that of the creature made for the creator: the nature of the human.

31. The second characteristic of the doctrine of grace that Augustine developed in his response to the challenge of Pelagianism was an explicit denial of grace to nature, thus placing salvation in effect over and against creation. We have already seen that Augustine portrayed his experience of grace as one in which God delivered him from the powerlessness of a human nature enslaved by sin. In Pelagianism he faced the claim that not only was human nature not enthralled by sin, but was rather 'by nature' the possessor of a will free to choose the good. Thus in Nature and Grace, Augustine asserted that in his books Pelagius had not "posited any such thing as we wish to have understood by grace...which is concerned about the cure, not the constitution," of nature.(118) Here we discover how the Bishop of Hippo perceived the difference between himself and Pelagius, as well as the kind of doctrine he intended to set forth in order to refute his opponent. He saw Pelagianism as asserting a theology of 'graced nature', and as playing off 'the Creator against the Savior'(119) and 'nature against grace'.(120) Over and against that, Augustine championed a doctrine of 'graceless nature', indeed, of 'grace against nature'. It was the conflict between these two views of human nature and the way in which grace is seen to relate to them, therefore, that is at the root of the debate.

32. Augustine's denial of grace to nature was, of course, a necessary correlate to his doctrine of sin, which, as was mentioned above, played an ever larger role in the unfolding of his 'later' thought. Against Manichaeism and its notion of the passivity of God, he maintained that the omnipotence of God was "the opening declaration of our faith."(121) But in his struggle with Pelagius, he represented the matter differently: Augustine charged the Briton with attempting to "overthrow the foundations of the Christian faith" by denying not Divine omnipotence but rather original sin.(122) Once again, care must be taken to acknowledge that this denial of grace to nature was by no means the result of any disdain for humanity. For every bit as much as Pelagius, Augustine saw human beings as God's good creation.(123) "Human nature, indeed, was created at first faultless and without any sin,"(124) he stated in Nature and Grace, and that was a state in which humanity was free to obey God and thus not to sin (potuit non peccare). The problem lay, according to Augustine, in the fact that humanity did not remain in that pristine state of grace, but rather disobeyed God's expressed will and sinned. There, he claimed, is where nature and grace parted company. For "as soon as our first parents had transgressed the commandment", he wrote in The City of God, "divine grace forsook them."(125) Nature was, in the words of Augustine, from that moment forward literally "dis-graced":(126) the 'grace of nature' was utterly lost, henceforth it was a 'graceless nature'. Thus, for Augustine, human nature is no longer such that humanity is free to obey the creator; the very possibility of not sinning is lost; indeed, it is not possible for humanity not to sin (non posse non peccare). The result of Adam and Eve's transgression was, therefore, according to Augustine, a complete change in �nature� for the whole human race.(127) The original, righteous state of humanity (justitia originalis) has been replaced by a condition determined by the burden of 'original sin';(128) a sin transmitted not by imitation but by propagation.(129) It is for this reason, accordingly, that the Bishop of Hippo claimed that �grace is concerned about the cure, not the constitution of nature�. For Augustine, then, nature now knows no grace, for through our first parents� fall it has suffered �dis-grace�. Pelagius logically deduced that �God cannot demand the impossible from humanity; therefore, if God commands obedience it must lay within the power of human nature to obey�.(130) Over against this stood the bishop of Hippo's rejoinder: "God therefore does not command impossibilities; but in his command he counsels you both to do what you can for yourself, and to ask his aid in what you cannot do."(131) And that was simply a reformulation of the plea in his Confessions that had ignited Pelagius� rage when he first heard it while still in Rome: Da quod jubes, et jube quod vis, "Grant what you command, and command what you will."(132)

33. The profound tension in Augustine's thought concerning his understanding of creation and his anthropology is by now evident.(133) On the one hand, he glories in the wondrous order and sheer beauty of the world God has created as well as in the awesome cultural and technological achievements of humanity itself.(134) The created world is, for him, good both as to its origin and its proper end, and itself knows no �fall�.(135) And yet, on the other hand, when his gaze turns to the religious and ethical life of human beings, he seems to draw back in disgust, for, in his eyes, "human nature is stained, corrupt, sick; it is incapacitated by sin, ensnared by earthly affections and of itself helpless to perform any good whatsoever."(136) Human nature is, in other words, �dis-graced�.

34. Augustine himself may have sensed the tension between these two assertions, for one finds a number of passages in which he seems to be trying to qualify those statements in which he had set nature and grace in such complete opposition. Thus, in The Spirit and the Letter, written in the same period as Nature and Grace, he comments on the Pauline reference to those who "do by nature the things contained in the law" (Rom. 2:14f). This is not our work, he declares, "for it is the Spirit of grace that does it, in order to restore in us the image of God, in which we were naturally created. Sin is, indeed, contrary to nature" (emphasis added). Further into the passage he goes on to explain: "Not that by nature grace is denied, but rather by grace nature is repaired."(137) And many years later, in his Retractions, he seeks to clarify his position yet again: "I defend grace, not indeed as opposed to nature, but as that which liberates and controls nature."(138)

35. But Augustine could not escape the dilemma that in championing grace in the terms he did, he was clearly in the position, in his �later� theology, of playing off salvation against creation, grace against nature.(139) For despite all his attempts to qualify and clarify, the tenor of Augustine�s position was set by his denial of grace to nature: "Every time that Augustine appeals to grace against Pelagius", Portalié points out, "it is a supernatural act which is involved."(140) In the very first treatise he wrote in his controversy with Pelagius over the freedom of the will, he had in passing conceded, "that the free will itself is ascribable to God�s grace, in other words, to the gifts of God."(141) But never again in that controversy would he so clearly and expressly acknowledge that in the human response to God, just as in the beauty of the natural world and in the wonder of human love, ability, and ingenuity, the gifts of God � that is to say, God's grace, is expressed. For, to Augustine, grace belonged �not to the constitution, but solely to the restitution of nature�. It is that fundamental orientation that informs his dispute with Pelagianism, determines the logic of his doctrine of grace, and, it must be noted, stands in such an ambiguous relation to his theology of creation. It is precisely this ambiguity in his thought that has echoed down through the Western tradition from that day to this, producing the cacophony that is our theological heritage. With good reason, therefore, James Carpenter has recently observed that "few more fateful moments in the development of Western thought can be found" than Augustine's denial of grace to nature.(142)

36. The third and final characteristic of the doctrine of grace which Augustine develops in his response to the challenge of Pelagianism is the interiorization of grace, thus effectively reducing its work to that which occurs in the human soul. Indeed, as Rudolf Lorenz notes, it is precisely this insistence on the �innerness� of grace that most differentiated his teaching from that of Pelagius who had insisted that grace was public and social.(143) In this manner Augustine �de-natured� grace, in that he excluded all the �external�, material world of nature - both human and non-human - from the �internal�, spiritual work of grace in the �innerness� of the individual. The question Augustine faced in his debate with Pelagius had to do with the latter�s assertion that human beings were by nature in possession of a free will capable of choosing to do that which God commanded. �Freedom of the will� became, then, the central issue around which the question was argued.(144) Accordingly, as Ernst Kähler points out, in Augustine�s theology "works of grace are related almost exclusively to the human will. The various statements about grace are, corresponding to that fact, virtually without exception of a psychological nature."(145) For Augustine it could not be otherwise, for to say that the issue was the will was to make reference to the soul, since, for him, the former was inherent in the latter. In Augustine�s own words: Voluntas est animi motus.(146)

37. The concept of the soul played, therefore, a central role in Augustine�s doctrine of grace, for blessedness was only attainable in and through it.(147) Thus Augustine�s whole devotional program could be expressed in the words from his Confessions: "Through my soul I will ascend to [God]."(148) Despite serious challenge on the part of both Christian and non-Christian thinkers, after reading the Neoplatonic writings, he never changed his mind concerning the existence and the spiritual nature of the human soul.(149) In a letter written in 415 to Jerome he declared that it "has a certain nature of its own, created from a substance superior to the elements of this world,"(150) and commenting on Genesis, he likened God's forming of the soul from this �spiritual matter� to the forming of the body from the dust of the earth.(151) For Augustine, then, the soul, as that which was of a �superior substance� and �created immortal�, was the higher or better part of a human being, while the body, being earthly and subject to death, was the lower or inferior part.(152)

38. But that which ultimately defined the soul for him was not its relation to the body, but to the Creator: for of all creation, the soul was, in his estimation, "the one thing in the universe nearest to God."(153) Not that Augustine held the spiritual soul of the human being to be a part of the Divine; that Manichaean doctrine he explicitly rejected, calling any Christian who dared affirm it "a great heretic and a terrible blasphemer."(154) Rather, the soul of the individual was, for him, the solitary place where humanity met God, in that the human spirit was encountered by the Holy Spirit, and in being encountered, became one in purpose and will: "For the spirit of man and the Spirit of God", he writes in The Trinity, "are different in nature; but by being joined they become one spirit of two different spirits."(155) It is in this sense that Augustine could refer to God as the internum aeternum,(156) the �internal eternality�.

39. It was this encounter in the innermost being of the individual, in the �soul� or �spirit� which was of the essence of the work of grace for Augustine, for it corresponded to the essence of sin as he understood it: a will enslaved to disobedience to God. The result of this encounter was a gradual inner transformation, a change of will from an improper love of self or world, which was created only to be �used�, to a proper love of God, who was to be �enjoyed�. Therefore, Augustine insisted, �it is not by law and teaching uttering their lessons from without, but by a secret, wonderful, and ineffable power operating within, that God works in human hearts not only revelations of the truth, but also good dispositions of the will."(157) And here the contrast between Augustine and Pelagius is profound. For the Briton took sin to be primarily an external reality, while the bishop of Hippo insisted it was utterly internal. Thus, whereas the cure for sin according to Pelagius was Christ's exhortation and the freeing of creaturely goodness for the fulfilling of the Creator's command, for Augustine any cure that is truly a cure must take place in the recess of one's innerness. For Augustine, therefore, grace pertained not to the whole of creation, both the world of nature and the world of human beings, both the material �exterior� and the spiritual �interior� of the individual, but supremely to the soul. Consequently, Augustine's "theology of grace", in the words of Oliver Du Roy, "is completely individual and subjective."(158) He himself early on expressed that point well in the form of a question and answer: "What do you wish to know? God and the Soul...that is all."(159) And thus grace was �de-natured�.

40. In summary, then, we might say that Augustine�s �later� doctrine of grace stands in a relation of profound tension with his �earlier� concern for knowledge as understood in the context of his doctrine of creation. For the clear tendency of nature and grace to flow into one another in his earlier works is contradicted by his subsequent strict differentiation of grace from nature.(160) Thus, while Augustine's �earlier� theology was characterized by an unbroken movement from nature to grace, his �later� thought was marked, first of all, by an anthropocentric narrowing of soteriology, secondly, by an unmistakable tendency to conceive of grace strictly in terms which contravene human nature and, finally, by a further, even more radical, narrowing of the scope of the saving work of God to the soul of the individual in which the �innerness� and the �outerness� of an individual are played off against each other. We witness in this �later� doctrine, therefore, the �dis-gracing� of nature and the �de-naturing� of grace, in that Divine grace is denied to the realm of nature and all of created nature to God�s grace. Nevertheless, despite its difficulty in holding nature and grace together, it is precisely this doctrine of Augustine�s which has established the categories and questions which have largely controlled the soteriological discussion in the West from that day to this. We should not be surprised, therefore, that the house of Western theology is so deeply divided, for, in the words of Rudolf Lorenz, "a fissure runs through the Augustinian foundation of the Western doctrine of grace."(161)

II.

41. Now, the problematic of this Augustinian doctrine of grace for contemporary theology, for those, that is, committed to a theology of the world, is, I would suggest, at least threefold. In its first and most straightforward form, it consists in the overcoming of the anthropocentric �dis-gracing� of nature and �de-naturing� of grace. No longer can we dismiss the world of nature as insignificant for Christian theology, as a disposable theatrum mundi upon which the drama of the salvation of the soul is played out. For, if a theology of the world is a form of theology that takes not just the inner states of the individual, but the historical, the social, the material reality of this world seriously, then grace cannot be categorically denied to nature nor all of nature to grace. It is, rather, incumbent upon a theology of the world to affirm that this world, from the most elementary of its inanimate to the most complex of its animate forms, from the most simple of its singularities to the most complicated of its societies, is God�s gracious creation; and in redemption the Creator, in a second act of Divine grace, acts for the transforming salvation of it all. Initially, we can say, therefore, that a theology of the world is a form of Christian discourse that in glorifying God�s grace does not beggar created nature, and in embracing creation does not render secondary the gracious act of God. But if we are to come to grips with the task of crafting such a theology, indeed, if we are to truly understand what the task entails, we must attend to two further aspects of this problematic.

42. The second aspect of the problematic of the Augustinian doctrine of grace for contemporary theology is directly connected to the "fissure" running through the foundation of the Western doctrine of grace and the divisions that are its result.(162) In its broadest terms, this aspect of the problematic consists in the fact that the categories which define that divide � nature and grace with all the attendant problems we have sketched above � have come to determine the categories in which the most fundamental issues in Western theology are conceived and debated. For this set of categories, this way of posing theological questions, has so dominated the Western intellectual tradition that almost every other possible category and form of question has been excluded, including, specifically, those categories and approaches which would contribute to a fashioning of a theology of the world.(163) Thus, whether one takes up ontological questions about what is ultimately real and the relation of this contingent world with its biological, social and ecological life to redemption, or epistemological questions concerning the possibility of knowing God and the relationship between our �ordinary� knowledge or �ordinary� ways of knowing and Divine revelation, or ethical and existential questions concerning norms for human behavior or the question as to whether there is any importance or meaning to human actions at all, or soteriological questions about the relation between human actions and Divine favor, the underlying categories controlling the discussion remain those of nature and grace. In the words of James Carpenter: "No Christian doctrine can be dealt with adequately without recourse to the nature and grace schema."(164) In the following we will briefly examine the theological results of that "fissure" running through the Augustinian foundations of the Western doctrine of grace in order to clarify what it would mean to do a theology of the world in our current situation.

43. Peter Brown describes the conflict between Augustine and Pelagius as "a crisis in which the spiritual landscape of Western Christendom can be clearly seen for the first time."(165) What he means is that the issue which divided Pelagius and Augustine - one can just as well say the �early� from the �later� Augustine(166) - is the very issue that marks the most basic divide throughout the Western theological tradition: the issue of the relationship between nature and grace formulated as the question about the relationship between the Creator and the creature, human nature and Divine grace.(167) Thus, as Eugene TeSelle points out, Western theology, "both Catholic and Protestant, is largely a series of annotations to [Augustine's] work."(168) For the tradition has been dominated by these two different and contradictory claims on the one heritage of Augustine(169) - the one making its own point of departure his emphasis upon creation and knowledge, the other giving pride of place to his understanding of sin and grace.(170) In the Western theological tradition, therefore, all roads lead to Hippo. For the tradition itself is characterized at every stage of its development by the same "profound dichotomy" between the intellectual and the moral that marked Augustine.

44. The first claim - and disclaimer(171) - on Augustine's heritage is seen most clearly in medieval Scholasticism, a theology which makes creation, i.e. created nature, its starting point and understands salvation as an ascent to knowledge of God through the assistance of grace.(172) This type of theology begins with a kind of syllogism: God is good in being and act; creation is an act of God; therefore, creation is essentially good. Now, that is by no means to be understood as denying the presence and pervasiveness of sin in the world, nor as implying that creation is complete. Rather, according to this model, despite the brokenness and incompleteness in the world, it is ultimately the goodness of God's creating that defines the creation.(173) That goodness expresses itself above all in an innate human capacity for God (homo capax Dei), an openness or desire to ascend to the fulfillment of our nature in union with our creator.(174) Catholic theology of this sort is, therefore, cast as an appeal to the created nature of human beings to find the fulfillment of their being by ascending to God through a receiving of the grace Jesus Christ has provided in and through the Church.(175) For the �natural� virtues, both moral and intellectual, it is claimed, lead to even as they are transcended and guided to fulfillment by the �theological� virtues of faith, hope and love. Hence, while Catholic Scholasticism explicitly differentiates between nature and grace, it does not contrast but rather orders them in an unbroken hierarchical relationship.(176) Its clear tendency, then, is to posit a fundamental continuum between nature and grace, the human and the Divine, creation and redemption; for it is a theology of nature fulfilled by grace. Thus the representative affirmation of medieval Scholasticism was: Gratia non destruit, sed supponit et perficit naturam.(177)

45. Over and against that sort of thought stands the theology of the Reformation, the second claim - and disclaimer(178) - laid to the heritage of Augustine and the second dominant model of theology in the West. The fundamental logic of Reformation theology is protest, indeed, Reformation theology is protesting, or Protestant theology. What Reformation theology protests against is, above all, the root affirmation of Scholastic theology: that human nature by virtue of being God�s good creation possesses an innate capax dei and is intrinsically open to and in search of God. Thus Luther declared in his Disputatio Contra Scholasticam Theologicam of 1517: Ex parte autem hominis nihil nisi indispositio, immo rebellio gratiae gratiam praecedit.(179) Not the goodness, therefore, but rather the sin and brokenness of the world is Reformation theology�s point of departure; and that sin is seen as the defining reality in all of creaturely existence. When Calvin spoke of the �depravit�' of nature,(180) he did not mean that there was no good in the world; what he meant was there was no unalloyed good in the world, no part or capacity or desire untouched by the fall (homo non capax Dei). Sin has spoiled all, according to this model, and there is no untouched humanum or residual imago to which one can appeal as purely good, as open to and in search of its creator. Indeed, according to this theology, the claim that there is such a possibility, such a capax Dei, is the essence of sin itself, for it constitutes the claim that one can by one�s own efforts be redeemed. Reformation theology, therefore, is cast not in the form of an appeal to the good, but in the form of a dialectic,(181) according to which God in Jesus Christ as the Word of God stands over and against creation, extra nos, confronting human beings in their sin and shame and summoning them to faith in the free grace of God made manifest in the death of Christ on the cross pro nobis. We come to right relationship with God, it is claimed, not through being enabled by grace to fulfill nature�s law and ascend to God, but by forswearing such reliance on law and placing our trust in Christ who by grace imputes his righteousness to us.(182) This sort of theology, therefore, finds its point of departure not in creaturely good, but in creaturely sin, and takes the form not of creation's ascent to its God and Father, but of God's descent to creation in Jesus Christ the Son. Its clear tendency, then, is to assert contradiction between law and Gospel, God and world, creation and redemption. Not creation and anything, most certainly not nature and grace, but rather sola gratia, solus Christus, sola fide, sola scriptura were the Reformation watchwords. Indeed the only �and� the Reformers allowed, law and Gospel, simply underlines that point, for the �and� in this instance marks a relation not of continuum but rather of discontinuity; for this is a theology of law contradicted by Gospel. Reformation theology is a theology, therefore, not of continuum but of contradiction. As the Anglo-Catholic John Burnaby expressed the issue in the midst of a conflict with Reformation theology earlier in this century: "Against the �Both-And� of the Catholic, Protestantism here as everywhere sets with...insistence it's �Either-Or�."(183)

46. The house of Western theology is thus profoundly divided. For it is made up of little else than the unfolding of these two contradictory perspectives of continuum versus contradiction and their multifaceted conflict with one another. The result is that those who would pursue the development of a theology of the world and thus overcome the anthropocentric �dis-grace� of nature and the �de-naturing� of grace find themselves lacking the most elementary conceptual tools with which to proceed. For the Western tradition has developed few resources for the articulation of any theology other than one that champions �nature over grace� or �grace over nature�.(184) Therefore, despite the fact that each theological tradition has sought to alleviate the problems inherent in their respective positions with regard to this issue, no alternative to the �dis-gracing� of nature and the �de-naturing� of grace has been found other than a theology of creation which plays down or redefines sin and grace. In other words, no alternative has been found to the theology of the �later� Augustine other than a protesting theology akin to that of the �earlier� Augustine. As a consequence, the Western theological tradition is characterized by a pendular movement back and forth across the spectrum defined by these two positions with little or no progress being made to resolve the tension inherent in the tradition itself.

47. This on-going process, and the intellectual dead end it represents, is discernable not just in the debate between the two major parties, but within each one separately. For whenever a dispute concerning nature and grace erupts in one or the other party, it almost invariably results in those who mount the critique overtly or covertly reverting to a form of the �other� theology, and those who respond to the critique taking up a reactionary counter position: Catholics emphasizing sin and grace calling forth further, more unqualified, affirmations of the human capax, or Protestants discovering creation and the powers of human nature evoking an invocation of the complete and utter sovereignty of Divine grace. It is for this reason, that the intra-party debates within Catholic and Protestant theology concerning nature and grace so often seem to simply mirror the inter-party debates between Catholics and Protestants.

48. Thus, the Catholic tradition has faced protest in the name of the �later� Augustine not just from the Reformers, but, to name but two,(185) from Michel de Bay, who boasted he had read all the works of Augustine nine times and his works on grace seventy times,(186) and the movement which bore his name immediately following the Council of Trent, as well as from Cornelius Jansen and �Jansenism� in the century thereafter.(187) And in our own time, Richard P. McBrien, much less dramatically but no less pointedly, puts forward an interpretation of the �later� Augustine (and Aquinas!) to support a polemic against 20th century Catholic apologists who proceed "on the unstated assumption that reason alone can show the truth of Christian faith and that grace is necessary only to make such reasoned �faith� saving faith."(188) In all this, we witness the on-going �protestantizing� tendency within the Catholic tradition of those who are viewed as �Augustinians� "to exalt divine action and minimize the role of created causality", as R. P. Russell observes.(189)

49. For its part, by the 17th century, Reformation theology had itself largely reverted to a form of Scholasticism which made �natural reason,� as much a part of its foundation as Thomism ever had.(190) This �catholicizing� tendency within the Protestant tradition has continued to flourish into the modern era. Indeed, the history of modern Protestant theology begins with the apologetic efforts of the 19th century to find common ground with the �cultured despisers� of religion by downplaying the radical nature of sin(191) and appealing to a supposed created congruence between the finite human and the infinite Divine s/Spirit (Geist) conceived of in Platonic, not to say in virtually Augustinian, terms.(192) And more recently, this same sort of critique from the standpoint of the �early� Augustine is clearly stated by the Lutheran H. Paul Santmire in his book The Travail of Nature,(193) one of the most important of the current protests against the �modern secularization of nature� fostered, it is claimed, by Protestant theology. Santmire renders a one-sided account of Augustine�s theology that pointedly ignores his understanding of grace and seizes upon his doctrine of creation as the �flowering of the promise� of classical Christian thought about nature. This, he suggests, contributes to a classical model of "an ecological reading of the biblical faith" for the current theological enterprise.(194) Thus, once again, the theology of the �early� Augustine is played off against the tradition whose foundation was the theology of the �later� Augustine. If, therefore, in the Catholic tradition, the bishop of Hippo�s emphasis on redeeming grace as God�s sovereign act over and against created nature is taken up in a move of �Protestant� protest against what are seen as one-sided tendencies in that trajectory, then in the Protestant tradition, Augustine�s conception of nature as God�s good creation - interpreted either in terms of the human capacity for the Infinite or, more recently, of ecological promise for the conceiving of the finite - is evoked in a move of �Catholic� rebuke of the perceived excesses of the counter trajectory. But the result in either case is the same: no way is found beyond the dead end of the either/or of continuum and contradiction.

50. It may very well be that this impasse in the �deep logic� of the Western tradition is one of the overlooked contributors to the intellectual and cultural malaise of our own time. For while modern theology and philosophy has, on one level, continued to wrestle with the legacy of Augustine,(195) a noticeable change has gradually crept in on a broader and deeper level. In a forward to a book on Augustine, the philosopher William Barrett comments on this development.(196) He characterizes Augustine, along with Plato and Aristotle, as one of the three major figures in Western intellectual history, and suggests that, of the three, it is the bishop of Hippo who has had the greatest "actual and direct influence on historical matters."(197) But "why", he asks, after such a long period of increasing secularization during which his influence would be expected to wane, "has St. Augustine become so powerful and interesting a figure for us today?"(198) Answering his own question, he writes:

[Augustine] speaks to us from that unique position in history when a great era of civilization - a whole millennium of pagan classical civilization - is coming to an end and is about to be replaced by something new. And I think that is why...Augustine begins to emerge as a figure peculiarly close and intimate to us now. For we live today with the uneasy feeling that a whole era of civilization we have known may be coming to an end, and even must come to an end if human beings are to survive. Are these apprehensions exaggerated? They are not invented by me; you will find them everywhere in the general consciousness of our times, on the popular as well as intellectual level, sometimes slumbering and unspoken, but at other times galvanized into the loud bark of the media. The rumblings of apocalypse are always with us: the civilization will blow itself up or collapse through internal conflicts. Meanwhile, the new Barbarians (like the ancient ones in Augustine�s time) press at our gates. Internally, the human spirit seems to be corroded by self-doubt, as if the civilization had lost belief in its own values. If you doubt all this, look at the bulk of the literature of this century: despair, self-laceration, nihilism - in general, a mournful lament over ourselves as the victim of history. "In the destructive element immerse!" advised one great writer near the beginning of our century; and it is as if most of modern literature, art and music have sought to follow his injunction and sharpen their weapons of destruction and self-dissolution. The end of the novel! The end of the easel painting! The end of diatonic music! These cries have been so persistent that they are by now banal slogans for a culture that seems to find some its greatest accomplishments exhausted and turns away from them in impotence. And we begin to sense the need of some kind of renewal, the precise nature of which we cannot yet guess. Consequently, too, we begin to feel closer to a thinker like Augustine, who was watching a whole world pass away, attempting to preserve what was of value in it, and at the same time calling forth and creating the new thing that was to replace it.(199)

51. What Barrett is saying here is that what makes Augustine so interesting to us today is not simply his theological or philosophical doctrines themselves, but rather the analogy between his historical situation and our own. For we are conscious, as he was,(200) of living in a period of profound transition, a virtual sea change in the course of human civilization. Only this time what seems to be passing away is not a pagan but a �Christian� world, and not the life of one millennium but of almost two. It should not surprise us, therefore, that Christian theology has not remained untouched by this development. For to his list of examples of "despair, self-laceration and nihilism" in 20th century culture Barrett could have just as easily added the title of a book on the history of modern theology by John Kent in which the attitude among far too many theologians today is echoed: The End of the Line?(201)

52. And yet Barrett is at the same time saying something much more than that. For he concludes his statement with the observation that just as Augustine strove to "preserve what was of value" from the world that was passing away, so he also struggled to call forth and create "the new thing that was to replace it". In that we must also recognize our own age and our own task. It may very well be that a time has passed away that will be no more, a time that perhaps should be no more; an era which defined itself as �Christian� and produced two recognizable and conflicting forms of theology: one of continuum and one of contradiction; each in their own way struggling with the �dis-grace� of nature and the �de-naturing� of grace. But as the river of Western civilization flows into the ocean of an emerging world civilization, it is incumbent upon us to strive to shape that "new thing" that it seems is destined to replace the old.

53. That, I would suggest, represents the third and final aspect of the problematic of the Augustinian doctrine of grace for contemporary theology � for those, that is, committed to the development of a theology of the world. For the challenge before us today is to work toward the accomplishment in our era of profound transition something of what Augustine accomplished in his own. To do that we must transcend the mode of �Western� theology that has defined our theological tradition and fashion a theology that truly articulates a wholistic vision of the creation and redemption of the world in all its multi-faceted reality. But to do so we must come to grips in a new way with both sides of Augustine�s theology, and that means with both sides of the Western theological tradition: the concern for creation and knowledge as well as the concern for sin and grace. For it will no longer suffice to play off one against the other. It may very well be the case, as James Carpenter maintains, that "discussion of the relation of nature and grace is out of favor in much contemporary theology."(202) Yet the degree to which that statement is true is the degree of contemporary theology�s impoverishment, and marks its unpreparedness for the task that lies ahead. For, if we would �make progress� now, as Augustine struggled to �make progress� then, it will not be by simply taking up one of the two mutually contradictory lines of the theological tradition. We must rather, in full consciousness of that tradition, both its riches and its poverty, go beyond that either/or of theologies of continuum and contradiction and forge another possibility. Not a new �theology of creation� or another �theology of grace�, therefore, but a �theology of the world�: a theology of a gracious God in and for the world and of a graced world in and for God.

54. It is possible that the first intimations of just such a theology have begun to emerge in the ecumenical discussions concerning a theology of the Holy Spirit. Thirty-five years ago, Martin Anton Schmidt was already pointing out that if the ecumenical dialogue was to avoid final breakdown, then "that would only be possible in the context of a pneumatology."(203) Since that time, as was mentioned at the beginning of this paper,(204) that sentiment has played a large role in the on-going debate over pneumatology. If the sort of creation-based approach represented by Catholic, and subsequent Protestant, Scholasticism can be termed a theology of the first article of the creed, and if the sort of redemption-based thought one meets in the protest of the Reformation can be termed a theology of the second article of the creed, then what is being called for in this discussion is a theology of the third article: a theology that plays off consummation against neither redemption nor creation, but provides rather a unitary perspective for the interpretation of the work of the Father in the first article and the Son in the second article from the standpoint of the Holy Spirit in the third article. Ecumenical theology in this sense is thus understood, as Otto Dilschneider writes, to be the task of "giving account of the whole field of trinitarian theology from the basis of the third article."(205) It is, therefore, no surprise to anyone familiar with the recent discussion of the Holy Spirit that one of the first issues addressed in the recent pneumatology by Jürgen Moltmann, The Spirit of Life, is precisely that of "overcoming the false alternative" between theologies that stress Divine revelation and those that emphasize an innate connection between the human and the Divine given in creation.(206)

55. This emerging theology of the third article could, perhaps, be greatly enriched and deepened through conversation with a parallel development in the realm of philosophy. Steven G. Smith, in his book The Concept of the Spiritual. An Essay in First Philosophy, takes up the question as to what is the most fundamental of all philosophical questions. He notes that the Western philosophical tradition has put forward three ways to approach the issue of a philosophia prima.(207) The first is that of ontology, which asks whether we can rightly claim to understand anything that exists if we have not first of all come to grasp what existence, i.e. �being� itself is. The second way of approaching the issue is the question of epistemology which asks how we can claim knowledge about being until we have clearly laid out the grounds and limits of the human capacity to know anything whatsoever. And the third great approach to a first philosophy in the West is that of language, which asks how we can possibly define knowing or grasp the nature of being without having first gotten clear as to the conditions and rules determining all our statements about being or knowing. Having rehearsed that history, Smith then goes on to argue that even the third approach, the twentieth century shift to the question of speech, is not properly basic. For that which sets language apart as the starting point for philosophy, according to Smith, is:

that it is essentially interpersonal, or to be more specific, essentially an activity of creating and maintaining forms of commonality among persons. Interpersonal commonality is not just what language is for; it is in language, and in it more than in anything else.(208)

56. And therein it becomes apparent that hidden in the approach of language to the problem of a first philosophy is a question yet more basic; indeed, prior to all other questions: the question of relationship. The language of relationship is, Smith suggests, the language of �spirit�; and he sets himself the task in the book of demonstrating that "the term �spiritual� remains uniquely suited to bear an adequate conception of the original situation where the order of priority in questions begins."(209) In other words, he sets out to show that the question of the �spirit� or the �spiritual� is, in point of fact, the proper theme of first philosophy and in just what such a philosophia prima would consist.

57. By taking those who champion this kind of philosophical agenda as partners in dialogue, those engaged in developing a theology of the third article could very well advance their own efforts to fashion a theologia prima. Such a �first theology� would have pneumatology as its theme and a theology of continuity in creation and re-creation through the discontinuity of sin and death as its end. In developing such a theology, pneumatology would find itself once again harkening back to Augustine. For although the bishop of Hippo never resolved the tension in his conception of the relationship between creation and redemption, it is clear that what he was after in his best moments was expressed in the words of a letter he wrote in 429: qui fecit, refecit, "he who made us has made us anew."(210) And the medium of that making and remaking was, according to Augustine, the Spirit.(211) Thus, just as this problematic heritage has contributed so much to the fundamental division in the house of Western theology, so it may yet be that this same Augustinian heritage offers a clue as to how that division could be overcome.

Notes

1. Killian McDonnell, The Determinative Doctrine of the Holy Spirit, ThTo 39 (1982/1983), 142-161, 142.(back)

2. One of the primary themes animating the current discussion of Pneumatology is, in fact, precisely this question. See D. Lyle Dabney, Die Kenosis des Geistes: Kontinuität zwischen Schöpfung und Erlösung im Werk des Heiligen Geistes, (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1997), chp. 1.(back)

3. Even Karl Barth experienced a �turn to the world� after 1945. See Eberhard Jüngel, Einführung in Leben und Werk Karl Barths, Barth-Studien, (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1982), 22-60, 53f, 58f. Further, see W. Härle und E. Herms, Deutschsprachige Protestantische Dogmatik nach 1945, BEvTh 27 (1982), 1-100, 10f.(back)

4. As has been noted by many commentators. See, for instance, Joseph A. Bracken, The Triune Symbol, (New York: University Press of America, 1985), 1f; David Tracy, Blessed Rage for Order, (New York: Seabury Press, 1979), 244; Paul E. Sigmund, Liberation Theology at the Crossroads, (New York/Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990), 3-13, 76ff; Anselm Kyong-suk Min, Dialectic of Salvation: Issues in Theology of Liberation, (New York: State University of New York Press, 1989). (back)

5. Roger Haight, An Alternative Vision. An Interpretation of Liberation Theology, (New York: Paulist Press, 1985), 150.(back)

6. Otto Weber, Grundlagen der Dogmatik, Bd. II, (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1983), 6. Aufl., 138.(back)

7. Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian, (New York: Herder and Herder, 1970), 19.(back)

8. See Ekkehard Mühlenberg, Dogma und Lehre im Abendland, Erster Abschnitt: Von Augustin bis Anselm von Cantebury, Carl Andresen (Hg.), Handbuch der Dogmen- und Theologiegeschichte, Bd. 1, Die Lehrentwicklung im Rahmen der Katholizität, (Göttingen: Vandenheock & Ruprecht, 1982), 406-566, 446. Cp. Ernst Kähler, Gnade Gottes IV. Dogmengeschichtlich, RGG, 3. Aufl., vol. 2, 1637-1640, 1637: "Der Osten had keine der lateinisch-abendländischen Gnadenlehre entsprechende Vorstellung entwickelt".(back)

9. See Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition. A History of the Development of Doctrine, vol. 2: The Spirit of Eastern Christendom (600-1700), (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974), 11f, 34; John Meyendorff, Byzantine Theology. Historical Trends and Doctrinal Themes, (New York: Fordham University Press, 1974), chps. 10 & 11, esp. pp. 140ff. Further see Klaus Wessel, Dogma und Lehre in der Orthodoxen Kirche von Byzanz, Carl Andresen (Hg.), Handbuch der Dogmen- und Theologiegeschichte, Bd. 1, Die Lehrentwicklung im Rahmen der Katholizität, (Göttingen: Vandenheock & Ruprecht, 1982), 284-405.(back)

10. Johann Auer, Gnade, LThK, vol. iv, 984-991, 987. Further, see especially James A. Carpenter, Nature & Grace. Toward an Integral Perspective, (New York: Crossroad, 1988), chps. 1-2.(back)

11. Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition. A History of the Development of Doctrine, vol. 1: The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100-600), (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1971), 293. Compare idem, The Christian Tradition. A History of the Development of Doctrine, vol. 5: Christian Doctrine and Modern Culture (Since-1700), (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989), 35: "More perhaps than any other doctrinal issue... the Augustinian doctrine of grace, with its many permutations, demonstrated the continuity and yet the discontinuity between Eastern and Western Christianity, as well as between the Protestant Reformation and the preceding development of doctrine within the West itself". Further, see the more nuanced formulation of Eugène Potalié, A Guide to the Thought of Saint Augustine, (Chicago: Henry Regnery Co., 1960), 328f.(back)

12. See Rudolf Lorenz, Gnade und Erkenntnis bei Augustinus, ZKG 75 (1964), 21-78, 21f.(back)

13. Cicero, De fin. ii,88; Tusc. disput. iii,40. See Conf. III,iv,7; De trin. XIV,ix,12; XIV,xix,26. Cp. Conf. VIII,vii,17. Further, see John Burnaby, Amor Dei. A Study of the Religion of St. Augustine, (Norwich: The Canterbury Press, 1938, reissued 1991), 45ff.(back)

14. Rudolf Lorenz, Gnade und Erkenntnis bei Augustinus, 22; Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, TRE, vol. IV, 646-698, 657. Cp. the portrayal of the moment of beatific vision attained by Augustine and his mother at Ostia as they prepared to return to Africa, Conf. IX,x,23-25.(back)

15. Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian, 26.(back)

16. Conf. III,vi,10; IV,i,1; De mor. I,xviii,34; II,xix,68.(back)

17. See Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, (Berkeley/Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1969), 279-280, 353; further, see 59, 112. Conf. V,x,18. (back)

18. Conf. III,vii,12; De util. cred. i,2; ii,4; De lib. arb. I,ii,4; Op. imp. v,16.(back)

19. De beat. vita i,4; De util. cred. i,2.(back)

20. Oliver Du Roy, St. Augustine, NCE, vol. I, 1041-1058, 1043.(back)

21. In the following, I will enclose references to Augustine's �early� or �later� theology in single quotation marks to remind the reader that these descriptions mark the period during which one or the other of the two root concerns in Augustine�s thought is dominant. The single quotation marks serve, further, as a reminder that each of these concerns is, nevertheless, also present in the other period, but in a form that is in some sense subordinate to the other. For each of these two themes represents a fundamental aspect of the entire development of his thought.(back)

22. See Henri Marrou, Saint Augustin et la fin de la culture antique, (Paris: Boccard, 1938), 346ff; Frederik Van Der Meer, Augustine the Bishop, (London/New York: Sheed and Sheed, 1961), chp.1.(back)

23. Sol. II,i,1.(back)

24. Ep. 120,xiii. See Rudolf Lorenz, Gnade und Erkenntnis bei Augustinus, 22; Henry Chadwick, Augustine, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), 107.(back)

25. Retract. I,iv,4.(back)

26. See below, pp. 13.(back)

27. Conf. V,vi,10-vii,13.(back)

28. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 42. See Frederik Van Der Meer, Augustine the Bishop, 76ff; Christopher Dawson, Enquiries into Religion and Culture, (New York: Sheed & Ward, 1937), 234ff.(back)

29. For a pointed contrast between Ambrose and Augustine concerning the relation between philosophy and Christianity, see Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 112f.(back)

30. John Burnaby, Amor Dei, 28: "For all the corrections of Neo-Platonism which his Christianity made necessary, it remained for him (sc. Augustine) what he had recognized in it from the first, a vera philosophia". Note the way Augustine moves seamlessly from Plotinus cast in the language of the Bible to scripture citations interpreted in terms of Neoplatonic philosophy and back again in Conf. VII,9,13ff. Further, see Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, 658ff; Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 79ff; Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian, 34.(back)

31. See Carl Andresen, Gedanken zum philosophischen Bildungshorizont in Cassiciacum, Augustinus 13 (1968), 77-98; A. M. Nieman, The Arguments of Augustine's "Contra academicos", The Modern Schoolman 59 (1981-82),255-279. Further, see Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, 662f. For the qualifications Augustine placed on his endorsement of Neoplatonism, cf. C. acad. II,xx,43. Further, see Ekkehard Mühlenberg, Von Augustin bis Anselm von Cantebury, 411f.(back)

32. C. acad. II,ii,5.(back)

33. C. acad. III,xvii,37-ixx,42. Cp. Ep. 118,iii,16-v,33.(back)

34. Cp. De civ. dei II,xiv; VIII,iv.(back)

35. Cp. Conf. VII,ix,13-VII,x,16; De civ. dei, VIII,xii; X,xxiii.(back)

36. Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, 663. Further, see De civ. dei X,xxxii,1; Conf. VII,ix,13ff; De vera rel. i,1-vi,11.(back)

37. Conf. V,iii,3. This and all subsequent quotations from the Confessions are from the translation by Henry Chadwick, Saint Augustine. Confessions, (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1991).(back)

38. But note Augustine�s later criticism of the Neoplatonists: Conf. VII, xx-xxi; De trin. IV, xviii,24; X. For the differences between Neoplatonism and Augustine, see A. H. Armstrong, Salvation, Plotinian and Christian, The Downside Review 75 (1957) 126-139. Further, see Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, 670; Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian, 237ff.(back)

39. C. acad. II,v,12. Cp. Conf. VI,v,7-VIII,xi,18; De praed. sanct. ii,5; De spir. et lett. xxxi,54.(back)

40. De vera relig. xxxix,72; Conf. X,xxxiv,53. See Oliver Du Roy, St. Augustine, 1048ff.(back)

41. Oliver Du Roy, St. Augustine, 1051.(back)

42. De beat. vita iv,34.(back)

43. Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, 664.(back)

44. Cf. Rudolf Lorenz, Zwölf Jahre Augustinusforschung [1959-1970], ThR NF 38 (1973), 292-333; 39 (1974), 95-138. 253-286. 331-364, 272: "der Weg zum Verständnis der augustinischen Erleuchtungslehre [führt] über die Schöpfungslehre". Further, see idem., Augustinliteratur seit dem Jubiläum von 1954, ThR NF 25 (1959), 1-75, 27-41.(back)

45. Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, vol. 1: The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100-600), 297f.(back)

46. Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, 665f.(back)

47. Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, 666.(back)

48. Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian, 202. Cf. De ver. rel. xxix,72; Retract. I,viii,2; I,iv,4.(back)

49. See Rudolf Lorenz, Gnade und Erkenntnis bei Augustine, 70f. Cf. Conf. XIII,iii,4.(back)

50. Quoted according to Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 103.(back)

51. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 111. Cp. Johann Auer, Gnade, 987.(back)

52. Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, 666.(back)

53. John Burnaby, Amor Dei, 36. Cp. Retract. I,ii,iv,vii,xiv,xix.(back)

54. C. acad. II,iii,9. See Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 178, 111; Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, 664.(back)

55. Oliver Du Roy, St. Augustine, 1044. Cf. De beat vit. iv,34.(back)

56. Retract. I,i,1. See Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 115f.(back)

57. Conf. IX,iv,7. For a different reading of this early period, see Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian, 59ff.(back)

58. Rudolf Lorenz, Augustin, RGG, 3. Aufl., vol. I, 738-748, 745; Henry Chadwick, Augustine, 107.(back)

59. See Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian, 185ff; Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, 672ff.(back)

60. See above all his De libero arbitrio of 388.(back)

61. Ad Simplic. II,xii. All quotations from Augustine�s early works are taken from the translation of J. H. S. Burleigh, Augustine: Earlier Writings, (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1953). Augustine himself was subsequently to see this as a major turning point in his thought; see De praed. sanc. iv,8; De dono per. xx,52. For different evaluations of this change in Augustine�s thought on free will, see Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian, 159; Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 148ff; Oliver Du Roy, St. Augustine, 1055.(back)

62. Cf. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 135ff, 278f.(back)

63. See esp. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 175ff.(back)

64. Cf. De trin. XIII. See John Burnaby, Amor Dei, 50; Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, 665.(back)

65. De vera relig. vii,13.(back)

66. Conf. X,xxviii,39.(back)

67. Margaret R. Miles, Augustine, Encyclopedia of Early Christianity, Everett Ferguson (ed.), (New York: Garland Publishing, 1990), 121-126, 125.(back)

68. Conf. VIII,vi,13.(back)

69. Conf. VIII,xii,29.(back)

70. Conf. VIII,xii,29.(back)

71. Conf. VIII,vii,16.(back)

72. Conf. VIII,vii,30.(back)

73. Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian, 36; Oliver Du Roy, Augustine, 1044. (back)

74. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 174. Further, see Gerald Bonner, St. Augustine of Hippo: Life and Controversies, (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1963), 358f.(back)

75. See above all Ekkehard Mühhlenberg, Dogma und Lehre im Abendland, 445ff; and Rudolf Lorenz, Die Kirche in ihrer Geschichte, Bd.1, Lieferung C1: Das vierte bis sechste Jahrhundert (Westen), (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1970), 63ff, (both with bibliography). Further, see Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 340ff.(back)

76. See De praed. sanct. xiv,27; De don. pers. ii,4.(back)

77. Ekkehard Mühlenberg, Von Augustin bis Anselm von Canterbury, 446.(back)

78. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 355.(back)

79. See Ep. 177,ii; De pecc. orig. xxi,24.(back)

80. De pecc. et rem. III,i,1; III,vi,3.(back)

81. Gerald Bonner, Augustine and Modern Research on Pelagianism, (Villanova: Institute of Augustinian Studies, 1972), 13. Cp. De gest. Pel. lxi,35.(back)

82. Ekkehard Mühlenberg, Dogma und Lehre im Abendland, 448.(back)

83. Gerald Bonner, St. Augustine of Hippo, 352ff.(back)

84. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 348.(back)

85. Gerald Bonner, St. Augustine of Hippo, 317.(back)

86. De nat. et grat. liv,63.(back)

87. Eugène Portalié, A Guide to the Thought of St. Augustine, 188.(back)

88. De nat. et grat. ix,9.(back)

89. De nat. et grat. xlv,53; xlviii,56.(back)

90. De nat. et grat. l,58; xlvii,55.(back)

91. Op. imp. iv,103.(back)

92. See Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 154f.(back)

93. See R. F. Evans, Pelagius. Inquiries and Reappraisals, (New York: Seabury Press, 1968), 101f.(back)

94. Eugène Portalié, A Guide to the Thought of St. Augustine, 186.(back)

95. Ekkehard Mühlenburg, Dogma und Lehre im Abendland, 447.(back)

96. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 344f; Gerald Bonner, St. Augustine of Hippo, 321f. Cf. De nat. et grat. iv,4; viii,9: ix,10; De pecc orig. iii-iv,3.(back)

97. See Etienne Gilson, The Christian Philosophy of Saint Augustine, (New York: Random House, 1960), 158f: "The point which dominates the whole history of the controversy is that Pelagianism was a radical negation of Augustine's personal experience, or, if we prefer, Augustine�s personal experience was in its essence and even in its most intimate details the very negation of Pelagianism".(back)

98. Rudolf Lorenz, Das vierte bis sechste Jahrhundert (Westen), 67.(back)

99. See esp. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 368f. Further, Johann Auer, Gnade, 987. Cf. De nat. et grat. i,1, where he defines Pelagius exactly as he described his own erstwhile promotion of Manichaean doctrine.(back)

100. De nat. et grat. i. Most of Augustine's anti-Pelagian writings have been collected and translated in, Nicean and Post-Nicean Fathers, vol. V, Phillip Schaff (ed.), (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1971). This and all subsequent quotations from Augustine's anti-Pelagian texts in English are taken from there.(back)

101. Retract. II,lxviii,42. Cp. II,lxxiii,47; De nat. et grat. ii,2; vi,6; lix,69.(back)

102. De nat. et grat. vi,6; vii,7.(back)

103. De nat. et grat. iv,4.(back)

104. Adolph Harnack, History of Dogma, (Gloucester, MA: Peter Smith, 1976 - German 1900), vol. V, 169.(back)

105. De nat. et grat. ii,2; iii,3 et al.(back)

106. John Randall, Hellenistic Ways of Deliverance and the Making of the Christian Synthesis, (New York: Columbia University Press, 1970), 191.(back)

107. Eugène Portalié, A Guide to the Thought of St. Augustine, 101. Further, see William A. Christian, The Creation of the World, Roy W. Battenhouse (ed.), A Companion to the Study of St. Augustine, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1955), 315-342.(back)

108. De civ. dei XI, xxii. This and all subsequent quotations in English from The City of God taken from vol. II of the Nicean and Post-Nicean Fathers, Philip Schaff (ed.), (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1979). Cf. Conf. V,ix,20. Further, see Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 303, 325f.(back)

109. See Hugh Pope, Saint Augustine of Hippo. Essays dealing with his Life and Times and some features of his Work, (Westminster, Maryland: The Newman Press, 1949), ch. VI. �St. Augustine and the World of Nature�, 228-253, for a fascinating account of Augustine�s observations of and theories about nature. (back)

110. Rudolf Lorenz, Fruitio Dei bei Augustin, ZKG 62 (1950/51), 75-132; Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, 667f; Etienne Gilson, The Christian Philosophy of Saint Augustine, 165ff.(back)

111. See Ekkehard Mühlenberg, Von Augustin bis Anselm von Canterbury, 451f; Oliver Du Roy, St. Augustine, 1048f. Cf. De christ. doc. I,ii-v; Conf. VIII,v,10.(back)

112. See Conf. X,vi,9.(back)

113. See Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 245f.(back)

114. Hugh Pope, Saint Augustine of Hippo, 249.(back)

115. De nat. et grat. ix,10; xx,22; xxvi,29 et al.(back)

116. Etienne Gilson, The Christian Philosophy of Saint Augustine, 3f, 45.(back)

117. Conf. I,i.(back)

118. De nat. et grat. xi,12.(back)

119. De nat. et grat. xxxiv,39.(back)

120. Cf. Retract. II,xlii,xlvii,lxviii,lxxiii. See Ekkehard Mühlenberg, Von Augustin bis Anselm von Canterbury, 447.(back)

121. See Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 395. Cf. Op. imp. i,49.(back)

122. De gest. Pel. lxi.(back)

123. Rudolf Lorenz, Das vierte bis sechste Jahrhundert (Westen), 60. Cf. C. Jul. v,8; Op. imp. iii,206.(back)

124. De nat. et grat. iii,3.(back)

125. De civ. dei, XIII,xiii.(back)

126. Pecc. orig. lx,46. See Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, vol. 1: The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100-600), 301.(back)

127. Op imp. iv, 104. Cp. Ernst Kinder, Sünde und Schuld V. Dogmengeschichtlich, RGG, 3. Aufl., vol. VI, 489-494, 490; Etienne Gilson, The Christian Philosophy of Saint Augustine, 151; Gerald Bonner, St. Augustine of Hippo, 370ff.(back)

128. See De pecc. mer. et rem. I,ix,10; III,vii,4; De nup. v; Ep. 186; Serm. 165.(back)

129. De pecc. mer. et rem. I,ix,9-11.(back)

130. De nat. et grat. lxix, 83. See Oliver Du Roy, St. Augustine, 1055.(back)

131. De nat. et grat. i,l.(back)

132. Conf. X,xxix,40. Cf. De don. persev. xx,53. See Gerald Bonner, St. Augustine of Hippo, 317f.(back)

133. On the tension within Augustine's theology, see Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 327; Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian, 341.(back)

134. See De civ. dei, XXII,xxiv, et al.(back)

135. Thomas E. Clarke, The Eschatological Transformation of the Material World According to St. Augustine, (Woodstock, Md.: Woodstock College Press, 1956), 34ff.(back)

136. Carpenter, Nature & Grace, 4. Cp. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 366f.(back)

137. De spir. et lett. xlvii. Cp. De grat. et lib. arbit. xiv,27; De perf. iust. hom. ii,3.(back)

138. Retract. XLII,lxii,47; Ep. 133, 145.(back)

139. Ekkehard Mühlenburg, Von Augustine bis Anslem von Cantebury, 451. See De grat. Chr. et pecc. orig. I,lii,47.(back)

140. Eugène Portalié, A Guide to the Thought of St. Augustine, 185.(back)

141. De pecc. mer. et rem. II,vii.(back)

142. Carpenter, Grace & Nature, 1.(back)

143. Rudolf Lorenz, Gnade und Erkenntnis, 76; idem, Das vierte bis sechste Jahrhundert, 65. Cf. De grat. Chr. xxxi.(back)

144. Indeed, as Eugène Portalié, A Guide to the Thought of St. Augustine, 192, demonstrates, the key to Augustine's doctrine of grace as a whole is "the divine government of wills". Cp. the roll played by the will in his portrayal of his own conversion, Conf. VIII,viii,19ff.(back)

145. Ernst Kähler, Gnade Gottes IV. Dogmengeschichtlich, RGG, 3. Aufl., vol. II, 1637-1640, 1637.(back)

146. De duab. an. x,14.(back)

147. Alfred Schindler, Augustin/Augustinismus I, 667, 671.(back)

148. Conf. X,vii,11.(back)

149. Eugène Portalié, A Guide to the Thought of St. Augustine, 146. For further information, placing of the Augustinian concept of the soul within the context of the history of that idea, see W. R. Alger, The Destiny of the Soul. A Critical History of the Doctrine of the Future Life, 10th ed., (New York: Greenwood, 1968).(back)

150. Ep. 166,ii,4.(back)

151. De gen. ad litt. VII,x. See Etienne Gilson, The Christian Philosophy of Saint Augustine, 208f.(back)

152. See De civ. dei, XIII,xxiv; De mor. eccl. I,iv,6. And further, Margaret R. Miles, Augustine on the Body, (Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press, 1979), 121ff; Etienne Gilson, The Christian Philosophy of Saint Augustine, 44f, 52ff. But cp. Conf. VII,xiii,19, which is an important qualification of this tendency: "I no longer wished individual things to be better, because I considered the totality. Superior things are self-evidently better than inferior. Yet with a sounder judgement I held that all things taken together are better than superior things by themselves".(back)

153. De beata vita, i,4. Cited according to Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 84. Cf. Conf. III,vi,10.(back)

154. De an. et eius orig. II,iv. Cp. Conf. VIII,x,22. See Gerard O�Daly, Augustine�s Philosophy of Mind, (Berkeley/Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1987), 31ff.(back)

155. De trin. VI,iii,4. Further, see XII,xi,12; XVI,xvi,22. Cp. De spir. et let. xxxvi,21: "What then is God's law written by God Himself in the hearts of men, but the very presence of the Holy Spirit, who is the �finger of God,� and by whose presence is shed abroad in our hearts the love which is the fulfilling of the law, and the end of the commandment?" Further, see D. Lyle Dabney, Die Kenosis des Geistes: Kontinuität zwischen Schöfung und Erlösung im Werk des Heiligen Geistes, (Neukirchener-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1997), chp. 4.(back)

156. Conf. IX,iv,10.(back)

157. De grat. Chr. et de pecc. orig. I,xxv,24.(back)

158. Oliver Du Roy, St. Augustine, 1056.(back)

159. Sol. I,ii,7. Augustine makes the same point in different ways both in the �middle� and �later� periods of his work; see Conf. V,iv,7, where he emphasizes that knowledge of the facts of nature adds nothing at all to one's blessedness, or knowledge of God; and De civ. dei XXII,xxix, where he specifically raises the question as to whether the eyes of the resurrected, transformed body will be able to see God and, answering in the negative, makes the point that only by the eyes of the Spirit will humanity enjoy the beatific vision.(back)

160. Rudolf Lorenz, Gnade und Erkenntnis bei Augustin, 76f; James Carpenter, Nature & Grace, 2f, esp. 5.(back)

161. R. Lorenz, Gnade und Erkenntnis bei Augustin, 78.(back)

162. Cp. Oliver Du Roy, St. Augustine, 1057.(back)

163. Indeed, for many in the Western tradition, these two categories have come to play such a fundamental role as to represent virtual archetypes, and therefore allow for no other possibilities. See R. G. Parsons, Pelagianism and Semi-Pelagianism, HERE, vol. IX, 703-711, 710f.(back)

164. James A. Carpenter, Nature & Grace, ix.(back)

165. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 368.(back)

166. As Rudolf Lorenz, Das vierte bis sechste Jahrhundert (Westen), 64, underlines, "es handelt sich bei Pelagius nicht um moralischen Humanismus" but rather with an (enthusiastic?) ascetic and perfectionistic form of Christianity. In other words, Pelagius� central concerns were very similar to the assumptions of the early Augustine. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 148, will even claim that the early Augustine was more �Pelagian� than Pelagius!(back)

167. Cf. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 351f: "As we have seen, the difference between Augustine and Pelagius was capable of ramifying from the most abstract issues of freedom and responsibility, to the actual role of the individual in the society of the later Roman Empire. The basic difference between the two men, however, is to be found in two radically different views on the relation between man and God".(back)

168. Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian, 19. Further, see Ernst Kähler, Gnade Gottes, 1637; Oliver Du Roy, St. Augustine, 1041; Henry Chadwick, Augustine, 1ff.(back)

169. Cf. Reinhold Seeberg, The History of Doctrines, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1977), vol. I, 368: "No one possessed the �whole� Augustine, but all lived upon the fragments of his spirit, from which each appropriated and understood what was �adapted� to his own wants". This has, of course, led to an ongoing dispute as to whom Augustine truly belongs. See B. B. Warfield, Augustine, HERE, vol. II, 219-224, 220, 224; cp. Angelo Di Berardino,

Patrology, vol. iv: The Golden Age of Latin Patristic Literature From the Council of Nicea to the Council of Chalcedon, (Westminster, MD: Christian Classics Inc, 1992), 354, 440(back)

170. NB the incisive comment by Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 393: "...the quality of a religious system depends perhaps less on its specific doctrine, then on the choice of problems that it regards as important, the areas of human experience to which it directs attention". On the Catholic and Protestant models of theology and their very different starting points, see David Brown, Continental Philosophy and Modern Theology, (Oxford: Basil Mitchell, 1987), 20, 75; Hans Urs von Balthasar, The Glory of the Lord, vol. I, (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1982), 45ff, 70ff; idem., The Theology of Karl Barth, (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1992), Part I; H.-H. Schrey, Theologie II. Evangelische Theologie, RGG, 3. Aufl., Bd. VI, 769-775, 769f; C. Moeller & G. Philips, The Theology of Grace and the Ecumentical Movement, (Paterson, N.J.: St. Anthony Guild Press, reprint 1969); Robert W. Jenson, Unbaptized God. The Basic Flaw in Ecumenical Theology, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992), 107ff.(back)

171. On the tension between the Aristotelian Aquinas and the Platonic Augustinian tradition with regard to reason, see F. C. Copelston, Aquinas, (New York: Penguin, 1955), 66f; R. P. Russell, Augustinianism, NCE, vol. 1, 1063-1069, 1065f; A. M. Fairweather (ed.), Aquinas on Nature and Grace, (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1954), 21ff.(back)

172. Note the title of what is still one of the best treatments of Aquinas in English: V. J. Bourke, Aquinas' Search for Wisdom, (Milwaukee: Bruce Publishers, 1965).(back)

173. Thus, for instance, Anselm defined original sin not as an active but a passive reality, i.e. as a lack of original righteous. Cf. Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, vol. 3: The Growth of Medieval Theology (600-1300), (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978), 112f.(back)

174. Martin Anton Schmidt, Dogma und Lehre im Abendland, Zweiter Abschnitt: Die Zeit der Scholastik, Carl Andressen (Hg.), Handbuch der Dogmen- und Theologiegeschichte, Bd. 1; Die Lehrentwicklung im Rahmen der Katholizität, (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982), 567-754, 650ff, esp. 654f. Interestingly enough, this schema has led Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 387, to number Thomas Aquinas among the theological heirs of the systematic theologian of Pelagianism, Augustine's bane, Julian of Eclanum.(back)

175. See Joseph Ratzinger, Theologie III. Katholische Theologie, RGG, 3. Aufl., 775-779, 775f.(back)

176. The locus classicus for this schema is, of course, Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, 1,q.1.(back)

177. See Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, vol. 3: The Growth of Medieval Theology (600-1300), 103f, 284-293, esp. 292; Eric Przywara, Der Grundsatz �Gratia non destruit, sed supponit et perficit naturam�, Scholastik 17 (1942), 178-186.(back)

178. For just as surely as Luther championed the �later� Augustine's theology of grace, he rejected his ecclesiology and ontology as well as his ascetic ideal. See Henry Chadwick, Augustine, 119; Timothy George, Theology of the Reformers, (Nashville: Broadman Press, 1988), 68ff.(back)

179. WA I, 225. See Bernhard Lohse, Dogma und Bekenntnis in der Reformation: Von Luther bis zum Konkordienbuch, Carl Andressen (Hg.), Handbuch der Dogmen- und Theologiegeschichte, Bd. 2: Die Lehrentwicklung im Rahman der Konfessionalität, (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1980), 1-166, 22f.(back)

180. See Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, J. T. McNeill (ed.), F. L. Battles (trans.), (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1975), II.1.viii-xi. Cf. Wilhelm Niesel, The Theology of Calvin, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1980), 80ff.(back)

181. See Ernest B. Koenker, "Man: Simul Justus et Pecator", Accents in Luther's Theology, Heino O. Kadai (ed.), (St. Louis: Concordia: 1967), 98-123.(back)

182. On this aspect of the doctrine of the Reformers, see Albrecht Peters, Gesetz und Evangelium, (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus Gerd Mohn, 1981), 1-101.(back)

183. John Burnaby, Amor Dei, 4.(back)

184. See, for instance, Gustav Adolf Benrath, Die Lehre außerhalb der Konfessionskirchen, Carl Andresen (Hg.), Handbuch der Dogmen- und Theologiegeschichte, Bd. 2, Die Lehrentwicklung im Rahmen der Konfessionalität, 560-664, 613, who comments concerning the various groups of the radical reformation, "[sie haben] zwar eine kirchliche Lehre ausgestaltet, aber keine Theologie getrieben", due to their exclusion from the universities and schools with the result that those traditions were prevented from ever entering into the realm of scholarly debate and development.(back)

185. Further, see Rudolf Lorenz, Augustin, 746f; Oliver Du Roy, St. Augustine, 1056f.(back)

186. Gerald Bonner, St. Augustine of Hippo, 389.(back)

187. See Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, vol. 4: Reformation of Church and Dogma (1300-1700), (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), 374-385.(back)

188. Richard P. McBrien, Catholicism, (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1981), 37f, 40f, 44.(back)

189. R. P. Russell, Augustinianism, 1064.(back)

190. See G. R. Evans/A. E. McGrath/A. D. Galloway, The Science of Theology, (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1986), 154ff, esp. 159. Further, see Wilhelm Neuser, Dogma und Bekenntnis in der Reformation: Von Zwingli und Calvin bis zur Synode von Westminster, Carl Andresen (Hg.), Handbuch der Dogmen- und Theologiegeschichte, Bd. 2: Die Lehrentwicklung im Rahmen der Konfessionalität, 167-352, 315ff.(back)

191. See, for instance, Friedrich Schleiermacher, The Christian Faith, (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1976), 385: "...sin is so little an essential part of the being of man that we can never regard it as anything else than a disturbance of nature".(back)

192. See Richard B. Brandt, The Philosophy of Schleiermacher, (Westport, CN: Greenwood Press, 1941), 145ff; Albert L. Blackwell, Schleiermacher�s Early Philosophy of Life, (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1982), 123ff.(back)

193. H. Paul Santmire, The Travail of Nature, (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1985).(back)

194. H. Paul Santmire, The Travail of Nature, 218.(back)

195. See Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, vol. 5: Christian Doctrine and Modern Culture (since 1700), (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989), 35ff; R. P. Russell, Augustinianism, 1067f.(back)

196. William Barrett, Forward, Robert Meagher, Augustine: An Introduction, (New York: Colophon books, 1978), xiii-xvii.(back)

197. William Barrett, Forward, xiii.(back)

198. William Barrett, Forward, xiii.(back)

199. William Barrett, Forward, xivf.(back)

200. See Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 231 et al.(back)

201. John H. S. Kent, The End of the Line? The Development of Christian Theology in the Last Two Centuries, (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1982).(back)

202. James Carpenter, Nature & Grace, ix.(back)

203. Martin Anton Schmidt, Geist V. Heiliger Geist, dogmengeschichtlich, RGG, 3. Aufl., Bd. II, 1279-1283, 1282. Cp. the similar statement concerning the intra-Protestant debate by Paul Tillich, Perspectives on Nineteenth and Twentieth Century Protestant Theology, (London: SCM Press, 1967), 20: "If for a moment I may be allowed to be personal, you see this same conflict going on between my own theology and Karl Barth�s, the one approaching man by coming from the outside (Barth) and the other starting with man. Now I believe there is only one concept which can reconcile these two ways. This is the concept of the divine Spirit." Barth, of course, agreed with Tillich here, if nowhere else. See his Nachwort concerning Schleiermacher, originally published in 1968 and now to be found in Karl Barth, The Theology of Schleiermacher, (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982), 261-279, 278. Further, see J. Dantine, Zu Karl Barths Traum von einer Theologie des Heiligen Geistes, ThLZ 111 (1986), 401-408.(back)

204. See above, p. 1, footnote 3.(back)

205. Otto Dilschneider, Die Notwendigkeit neuer Antworten auf neue Fragen. Auf dem Weg zum dritten Glaubensartikel, Claus Heitmann & Heribert Mühlen (Hg.), Erfahrung und Theologie des Heiligen Geistes, (Hamburg/München: Kosel, 1974), 151-161, 161.(back)

206. Jürgen Moltmann, The Spirit of Life. A Universal Affirmation, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992), 5ff. Cp. D. Lyle Dabney, The Advent of the Spirit: The Turn to Pneumatology in the Theology of Jürgen Moltmann, Asbury Theological Journal 48 (1993), 81-107. See further, Michael Welker, Gottes Geist. Theologie des Heiligen Geistes, (Neukirchen-Vlyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1992).(back)

207. Steven G. Smith, The Concept of the Spiritual. An Essay in First Philosophy, (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1988), 3f.(back)

208. Steven G. Smith, The Concept of the Spiritual. An Essay in First Philosophy, 4.(back)

209. Steven G. Smith, The Concept of the Spiritual. An Essay in First Philosophy, 4f.(back)

210. Ep. 231,vi. English translation according to Philip Schaff (ed.), Nicean and Post-Nicean Fathers, vol. I: The Confessions and Letters of St. Augustine, (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publ. Co., 1979), 584. This is by no means the first time Augustine makes such a statement, cp. Conf. V,ii,2; V,vii,13; XIII,iii,4; In Io. ep. 3; Serm. 81, 114, 140, 369; In Ps. 95, 96, 144.(back)

211. See Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian, 200ff, 254f; Oliver Du Roy, St. Augustine, 1055.(back)