Loving A Hidden God
Knowledge: The Path Out of Darkness
After the first two stages in the ascent to God, "Fear of the Lord" (darkness) and "Piety" (listening), we come to the third: the stage of knowledge. It is at this point that every serious person gifted with faith must turn to Sacred Scripture, there to find the truth that God is to be loved for his own sake with the whole heart, the whole soul, the whole mind and that loving other humans and loving oneself must be done, not for its own sake, but for the sake of God.
On Christian Doctrine, 2.10
The only path out of darkness is through light. For wandering souls like me (and you?) who have been listening patiently for some direction, this light comes through a gradual "illumination" which allows me to begin to know who I am and where I am meant to go. I begin to see the truth about my "self" and my destiny.
What must be emphasized at the very beginning is that knowledge can only be of "the truth". It must be an awareness of reality as it truly is. My knowledge captures the truth of my situation only when my judgments, my insights about the reality of my world correspond with the fact. As Augustine wrote:
Knowledge can only be of what is true and we know the truth when our judgments correspond with the reality that it describes.
On True Religion 36.66.
Error can never count as knowledge. Denial of "that which is" can only be described as "falsity", not knowledge. (Soliloquies, 2.15.29; 2.10.18)
Certainly that most perfect form of knowledge, wisdom, cannot rest on an erroneous idea about what the world is truly like. If I claim to "know" that I am all-perfect, that indeed I am God, I cannot be called wise. Indeed, I am insane. Like those poor souls who laugh at a world their terrible fever has created, I am dangerously ill. (Sermon 175, 2) No sensible person would like to be in that condition. We are made with a desire to find and face the truth, not live in fantasy. As Augustine said long ago:
Such is the overwhelming power of irresistible truth that we would rather keep our wits and cry than lose our wits and laugh.
Sermon 150, 10
In my attempt to avoid the insanity of error, the darkness of ignorance, it is natural for me to ask:
How can I come to knowledge of the truth about myself, my God, and the universe in which I must work out my salvation?
How can I know the true direction of my life just now?
How can I know whether I am off the right path to final happiness?
How can I know what I must do to get on the right path?"
Common sense tells me that I can know the present more or less directly. I am in direct contact with my "self" and (if I am honest) self-analysis will tell me something about my strengths and weaknesses, something about my present condition. I can know my ecstasies and my depressions, my "feeling good" and my "feeling bad" without help from others. Within the caverns of my "self" I can discover abstract truths which seem to be eternal and immutable (the truths of mathematics and logic, for instance) but these, though truly certain, do not reveal much about the changeable world in which I live. The truths of vectors may predict infallibly the direction of a force created by the collision of two other forces, but they tell me nothing about the direction I should take with my life today.
Taking into account possible abnormalities in my sense powers, I can also know (without the help of others) something of the environment in which I live, its sounds and smells, its colors and its texture. Such knowledge of the beauty that surrounds me may even bring a passing happiness, but it cannot be forever because this world is not forever.
Beyond these modest accomplishments, my knowledge can come only through the testimony of others. Others must tell me about those many lands I have never seen. Trustworthy elders must tell me of a past that I have never experienced. Proven prophets are my only source for knowledge about a future that I have yet to live.
Put simply, although there are many things that I can know or figure out on my own, there is much, much more that can only be known through others. My knowledge may come through reason or through faith, but faith is the more powerful source. Reason can and does give me absolute certainty, but only faith can nourish hope. Not even a dedicated Cartesian will dance over the certainty of "I think, therefore I am!" but Christians have sometimes experienced ecstasy from their belief: "I am, therefore I am loved!"
Although some progress towards discovery of an infinite being we call "God" can be made through the use of reason alone, progress towards discovery of a God who can be loved can only be through faith. Reason may point to an "unmoved mover" to explain our changing world or to a "necessary being" to support our contingency or to unexpected "eternal and immutable truths" in our temporal, ever-changing minds, but it can go no further. As Augustine remarked above, it is only the serious person of faith who studies the Scriptures with a believing heart who can ...
... there find the truth that God is to be loved with one's whole heart, with one's whole soul, with one's whole mind for his own sake.
On Christian Doctrine, 2.10
Augustine granted that philosophers may discover interesting truths about the world in which we live, but only Christ by his words and actions can give answer to the questions raised above:
"What is the truth about my present condition?"
"Where am I going?"
"What should I do?"
When faith reveals the answers to such questions, the result may not be altogether pleasant. Common sense should tell me that I am not perfect but faith will relentlessly unpack the fetid quagmire of my hidden perversions and coldly explain to me that the reason why I am so messed up, so firmly attached to the wrong things, is mostly because of my own bad choices. As Augustine wrote to his friend Maximus:
When you turn your gaze upon yourself and see your weakness, you will then learn what a low place you occupy on the ladder of perfection. You will feel the punishing chains of mortality you are dragging through life. You will understand (son of Adam that you are) how far your present state is from the Lord (2Cor 5:6). Then you will finally see that there is in fact a force within you fighting against the needs of your spirit, binding you in the chains of sin. Realizing this, you will be moved to cry out with Paul.
Unhappy man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death? (Romans 7:23-25)
When this happens you must let the grace of God that comes through Jesus Christ our Lord (that Christ who promises deliverance from all of the above) be your comfort in your sadness.
Letter 171A
There is indeed an understandable sadness that comes with the knowledge of my imperfections, how deeply I am still committed to the things of this world, things which now I can see are an obstacle to those goods that I really need to be happy. There is a growing anxiety as I begin to see that the only path towards such goods is long and hard. I have never tried this road before and I am afraid that I will not be able to conquer its challenges. Unable to honestly turn back to my old life and still afraid to move on, I am overcome with a deep melancholy. It is no wonder that Augustine identifies my state as knowledge grows and depression deepens with those whom the Beatitude calls "Blessed" because they mourn. (Commentary on the Sermon on the Mount, 1.4.11)
It sounds odd to equate blessedness with mourning. To be "blessed" conveys the idea of being happy. How then can I be happy in my mourning? An analogy may help to understand the apparent paradox. If I have spent years not knowing why I constantly feel so bad and then finally have my illness diagnosed, there is a happiness that comes even in the midst of my continuing pain. At least now I know what is wrong with me. The illness is still painful but now at least it is known, and even though this knowledge brings a new worry about whether the healing process will bring a new order of pain, there is still happiness. Recovery is now at least possible. Now I know what is wrong and what to do about it. My pain has become softened by hope.
Similarly, when I begin finally to know the truth about my spiritual maladies and what I must do to cure them, there can be a growing happiness. The doctor has told me that I am indeed sick but I can be saved. Moreover, along with the bad news of my distance from spiritual health, there is the good news that I need not travel that distance on my own. Jesus, my Divine Doctor, has assured me that there is no irremediably "lost soul", there is no person beyond redemption, there is no human being who cannot make the journey to God if they will allow that God to help them. I may still be torn, still attached to the temporal things which previously were the source of my joy, still not able to grasp the eternal goods that are promised to replace them, but now I am comforted by the Spirit of God, the Paraclete, the great "Comforter". (Commentary on the Sermon on the Mount, 1.2.5)
Realizing that God is near, ready to help in the journey that lies ahead, I
finally am able to pray. (On Christian Doctrine 2.7.10) In my time of darkness I
could not pray because there seemed to be no one there. In my time of pious listening
there was a glimmer of hope but still there was no one yet to be seen. Finally now, the
light has begun to shine, I can begin to see that there is a SOMEONE who has the
power and the desire to help me. My knowledge is not too clear as yet. I do not know what
this God, this Paraclete, is exactly. But as I reflect more and more in a
prayerful way on the life and words of Christ I gradually begin to see what God might be
like. And in faith and hope I reach out to take the hand of this as yet unseen God whom
(strange as it may seem) I am now beginning to love.