A friendly word

Reading the signs of the times with hope

The front pages of the newspapers dawn every day with some new scenario of armed conflict, with new developments in the endless wars that are active in different parts of the world, with diseases that are spreading, or with some similar news. The effects of reading the newspaper or watching the news are increasingly similar to those of watching an apocalyptic movie, and, in fact, many people live in this state of constant tension.

The situation is not for games, it is true, and it could easily – and even understandably – lead us to despair, but also for a Christian? What is it that has allowed, over the centuries, generations of Christians to remain more or less firm in their hope even against all hope (cf. Rom 4:18)? Could it be that we can recognize a meaning in history beyond all that is happening? Questions similar to these have troubled many thinkers, and one of the first to systematize an attempt at an answer was St. Augustine.

When we think of the saint of Hippo, curiously one of the first images that come to mind is the scene that tradition has handed down to us of his meeting with a child on the beach while meditating on the mystery of the Trinity. A saint who dedicated himself to reflecting on such lofty mysteries and who has contributed so much to Catholic theology would hardly – we might think – have time to say a word about the events of everyday life. However, the vast work of Augustine shows us the opposite.

Not only do we know of the great number of letters and sermons he wrote on the most varied topics, but one of his most recognized works – TheCity of God –dealt with something as down to earth as the fact that history does, in fact, have a meaning and a direction, although we experience in our lives that it is neither black nor white, but is marked by multiple shades of gray.

Augustine had to live through an event that hardly any of his contemporaries would have imagined: in August 410, Alaric and his army took the capital of the once glorious Roman Empire and sacked it for three long days. News of this event, as might be expected, spread quickly and caused great commotion. Far from reassuring the Christian faithful with false hopes or falling into a catastrophic vision of what had happened, Augustine took advantage of this event to deepen his reflection on history in the divine plan, a subject that interested him greatly.

St. Augustine reminds us that history has a meaning, a direction, which has at its center the event of the Incarnation.

The capture of Rome was not the only event that motivated the elaboration of The City of God, but, taking into account that the theological enterprises of St. Augustine had their source in the reality that surrounded him -whether because of the controversies that diverse personages posed to the Catholic faith or because of direct requests for advice or orientation-, surely it was in the germ of this Augustinian work. I would like to highlight two aspects of this text that I believe can enlighten us today in our journey of faith in order to be witnesses of hope wherever we are.

On the one hand, St. Augustine reminds us that history has a meaning, a direction, which has as its center the event of the Incarnation, from which all the other events of history take their place. Thus, events, cultures, societies, etc. can be relativized and valued in their proper relevance. For the Christian, history is not a mere succession of events, but the realization in time of God’s loving plan. From this perspective, no catastrophe can be considered definitive.

On the other hand, Augustine illustrates the complexity of reality with the help of the image of two cities:

“Two loves, he tells us, have given rise to two cities: the love of self to the contempt of God, the earthly; and the love of God to the contempt of self, the heavenly” (Ciu. 14:28).

These, however great the temptation to do otherwise, cannot simply be identified with any reality we know, since their boundaries are not demarcable like those of a real city (in this sense, they are called cities in a “mystical” sense). Rather, the two are inseparably intertwined, like the wheat and the tares in the Gospel parable (cf. Mt 13:24-30).

Moreover, it is interesting to note that we do not belong to the earthly city or the heavenly city because of our birth, lineage or residence, but because of what we make the object of our love: the love of self to the point of putting God aside or the love of God to the point of putting oneself aside. However, as with life, it is vain to pretend to be able to determine whether we belong to one or the other, since even we ourselves are not able to affirm with certainty what it is that moves our good actions.

St. Augustine did not lose sight of the fact that everything he lived only took on its real meaning starting from the Christ event.

The evident coexistence of these two realities in history could lead us to throw in the towel in our efforts to live from the love of God. It is true that only in the last judgment will these two cities be separated, and only then will the city of God be fully realized. However, by accepting Christ, human beings already receive the grace of being able to live a virtuous life, so that this city can already exist here and now.

Let us take the example of Augustine of Hippo, who never lost sight of the fact that everything he lived only took on its true meaning starting from the Christ event, and, always with humility, he sought to open himself to the grace of God in order to make the city of God a little more present, with his life, in the midst of his contemporaries. Surely in this way we will be able to live more as pilgrims of hope, as the Jubilee Year that we began a few days ago invites us to do.

Fr. Rodrigo Madrid, OAR

X