Augustine, Confessions

I first discovered Augustine in the first year of my BA. I did a short project, of about 4000 words, comparing the conversions of St Paul, Emperor Constantine and St Augustine. It is to my great regret that I did not do a better job of it, because I think a discussion of the narratives of conversion in these, pretty central, models would be both helpful and interesting. It is deeply depressing that at the time I wrote it, I did not realise the extensive discussion of Paul's conversion by Augustine himself.

I have returned to Augustine once or twice subsequently, taking a fairly detailed look at some of his ideas about self control, sexual morality, original sin, and the fall. These found for instance in chapters 13-15 of the City of God(AFAIR).

When looking for some reading to take on the bus to the Gathering at the weekend I picked up a translation of the Confessions, by Maria Boulding OSB. I read most of it on the bus to Swansea, when it got dark I used my phone to get myself to the culmination of the narrative portion. Augustine's conversion.

Looking at the chapter headings I found myself wishing that when it comes for me to write my autobiography, (could someone as self absorbed as I contemplate not writing an autobiography, one day), I wish that I can include headings such as. Owen is deeply affected by Neo-Platonism. Or such. In fact I found myself contemplating an autobiography in direct dialogue with Augustine. But, the Confessions are not an autobiography. The autobiography as we understand it does have its origins in confessional literature of the 19th century, which, to be fair, has its origins in the work of Augustine. It would be a great injustice to conflate the genres involved however. They are akin in the same way that I am akin to my grandfather, or great grandfather.

That leaves the question of what the Confessions are. A glib answer would promote a Ronseal reading, and that would not be entirely inaccurate. One can take Augustine at his word and read the text as a shared confession, complete with complex addresses to God, and wonderful prayers - some of which I am dying to work into a liturgy one day. He discusses his failings, especially his early life, in order to better understand himself. The better he understands himself the better he can confess his manifold failings.

I would like to suggest that the confessions do have both an apologetic, and a didactic side to them however. Apologetic because he was a suspect choice as Bishop of Hippo, his recent conversion and Manichean associations being especially worrying to his flock. Didactic because the story is less about Augustine, and more about the nature of sin and the nature of conversion.

Augustine identifies one moment as the most sinful in his life, the theft of a pear, not even a very nice pear. The reason this sin is worse than all Augustine's sexual proclivities, (for instance), is that Augustine engaged in the theft purely out of the love of rebellion. Presumably he engaged in the porneia because he enjoyed it, doing it as a rebellion against God and his(Augustine's) mother might be a bit of a turn off. The fact he discusses this in such detail, and returns to it is that he expects us to learn something about sin. Not because he wants the owner of the orchard to know he is sorry.

The highlight of the narrative portion is the conversion of course. The central position of Augustine's conversion, which essentially ends his story, highlights the discussion of the nature of conversion. I think that discussion about the nature of conversion would be valuable to us today, and that we can engage in a direct dialogue with not only Augustine, but also Wesley in this matter. The discussions they engage in are remarkably similar, it would indeed be cogent to describe Augustine as "strangely warmed".

I'd like to close with two things which more people should know about Augustine. Firstly he is not so down on women as he is accused of. His mother for instance comes of excellently in the confessions. Secondly; the Confessions are not only narrative, they contain a section at the end discussing philosophically subjects such as time and memory. These reflections could be read in isolation, and read with a remarkable freshness. His understanding of time stands alongside the contributions of the best of the Greeks, and, to my mind, seem to preempt Plank, more than a millienia in advance.