This past Wednesday, Pope Benedict began what a lot of us have been waiting for: his General Audience talks on St. Augustine.
Pope Benedict and Augustine go back a long way. In fact, he wrote his doctoral thesis on an aspect of St. Augustine’s thought. From a webpage set up in honor of the Pope’s visit to Pavia, the site of St. Augustine’s tomb, last year by the Augustinians:

There are numerous associations in the life of the new Pope with Saint Augustine.
His doctoral thesis at the University of Munich in Germany was centred on a topic from Saint Augustine.
There in 1953 he received a doctorate in theology under Professor Gottlieb Sohngen by completing a dissertation on “The People of God and the House of God in the Teaching of Augustine about the Church.”
About Augustine, the Pope wrote, ” Saint Augustine was in dialogue with Roman ideology, especially after the occupation of Rome by the Goths in 410, and so it was very fascinating for me to see how in these different dialogues and cultures he defines the essence of the Christian religion. He saw Christian faith, not in continuity with earlier religions, but rather in continuity with philosophy as a victory of reason over superstition. So, to understand the original idea of Augustine and many other Fathers about the position of Christianity in this period of the history of the world was very interesting and, if God gives me time, I hope to develop this idea further.”
In a letter to all members of the Order of Saint Augustine on26th April 2005, Robert Prevost O.S.A., the Augustinian Prior General, referred to the new pope’s love of Saint Augustine.

When the new Pope was first made a bishop but did not yet have a diocese to administer, he was appointed the titular bishop of the Augustinian Church of Sant’ Aurea at Ostia Antica. (This place is just outside of Rome, where Monica, the mother of Augustine died. This church site is possibly where Monica’s remains were kept before being transferred to Rome in the year 1430.)
In recent years while a Curial official in Rome, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger visited the Augustinianum – the official institution in the Church for the study of the early Fathers of the Church, which is conducted by the Augustinians.
The Pope has also quoted Saint Augustine in his sermons, and in his first universal Pastoral Letter, Deus caritas est (“God is Love”).
His recognition of Augustine is evident in his new papal coat of arms (see drawing, at right). A third of its shield is taken up by a shell, with primary significance to a legend about Augustine.
The legend, which comes to us from the Middle Ages in a variety of versions, is that Augustine was walking along the seashore, meditating about the unfathomable mystery of the Holy Trinity. There he met a boy who was using a shell to pour sea water into a hole he had made in the sand.
When asked what he was doing, the boy explained, “I am emptying the sea into this hole.” Augustine said that the task was impossible, to which the boy replied that for Augustine to explain the Blessed Trinity was equally impossible.
Thus the shell on the coat of arms of the Pope is a symbol for plunging into the unfathomable sea of the Blessed Trinity.
In the course of his visit to the Major Seminary of Rome on 17th February 2007, the Pope said that he was fascinated by the great humanity of St Augustine, who was not able initially simply to identify himself with the Church, because he was a catechumen, but had to struggle spiritually to find, little by little, the way to God’s word, to life with God, right up to the great “yes” to his Church.
 

Most recently, the Pope alluded to St. Augustine in a passage from his encyclical Spe Salvi, a passage which seems to murmur with a bit of autobiographical implications:

28. Yet now the question arises: are we not in this way falling back once again into an individualistic understanding of salvation, into hope for myself alone, which is not true hope since it forgets and overlooks others? Indeed we are not! Our relationship with God is established through communion with Jesus—we cannot achieve it alone or from our own resources alone. The relationship with Jesus, however, is a relationship with the one who gave himself as a ransom for all (cf. 1 Tim 2:6). Being in communion with Jesus Christ draws us into his “being for all”; it makes it our own way of being. He commits us to live for others, but only through communion with him does it become possible truly to be there for others, for the whole. In this regard I would like to quote the great Greek Doctor of the Church, Maximus the Confessor († 662), who begins by exhorting us to prefer nothing to the knowledge and love of God, but then quickly moves on to practicalities: “The one who loves God cannot hold on to money but rather gives it out in God’s fashion … in the same manner in accordance with the measure of justice”[19]. Love of God leads to participation in the justice and generosity of God towards others. Loving God requires an interior freedom from all possessions and all material goods: the love of God is revealed in responsibility for others[20]. This same connection between love of God and responsibility for others can be seen in a striking way in the life of Saint Augustine. After his conversion to the Christian faith, he decided, together with some like-minded friends, to lead a life totally dedicated to the word of God and to things eternal. His intention was to practise a Christian version of the ideal of the contemplative life expressed in the great tradition of Greek philosophy, choosing in this way the  “better part” (cf. Lk 10:42). Things turned out differently, however. While attending the Sunday liturgy at the port city of Hippo, he was called out from the assembly by the Bishop and constrained to receive ordination for the exercise of the priestly ministry in that city. Looking back on that moment, he writes in his Confessions: “Terrified by my sins and the weight of my misery, I had resolved in my heart, and meditated flight into the wilderness; but you forbade me and gave me strength, by saying: ‘Christ died for all, that those who live might live no longer for themselves but for him who for their sake died’ (cf. 2 Cor 5:15)”[21]. Christ died for all. To live for him means allowing oneself to be drawn into his being for others.

29. For Augustine this meant a totally new life. He once described his daily life in the following terms: “The turbulent have to be corrected, the faint-hearted cheered up, the weak supported; the Gospel’s opponents need to be refuted, its insidious enemies guarded against; the unlearned need to be taught, the indolent stirred up, the argumentative checked; the proud must be put in their place, the desperate set on their feet, those engaged in quarrels reconciled; the needy have to be helped, the oppressed to be liberated, the good to be encouraged, the bad to be tolerated; all must be loved”[22]. “The Gospel terrifies me”[23]—producing that healthy fear which prevents us from living for ourselves alone and compels us to pass on the hope we hold in common. Amid the serious difficulties facing the Roman Empire—and also posing a serious threat to Roman Africa, which was actually destroyed at the end of Augustine’s life—this was what he set out to do: to transmit hope, the hope which came to him from faith and which, in complete contrast with his introverted temperament, enabled him to take part decisively and with all his strength in the task of building up the city. In the same chapter of the Confessions in which we have just noted the decisive reason for his commitment “for all”, he says that Christ “intercedes for us, otherwise I should despair. My weaknesses are many and grave, many and grave indeed, but more abundant still is your medicine. We might have thought that your word was far distant from union with man, and so we might have despaired of ourselves, if this Word had not become flesh and dwelt among us”[24]. On the strength of his hope, Augustine dedicated himself completely to the ordinary people and to his city—renouncing his spiritual nobility, he preached and acted in a simple way for simple people.

So, now to the General Audience:

After the Christmas holidays I would like to turn to the meditations on the Fathers of the Church and speak today of the greatest Father of the Latin Church, St. Augustine: a man of passion and faith, of high intelligence and untiring pastoral zeal. This great saint and doctor of the Church is often well-known, at least by name, even by those who ignore Christianity, or who are little acquainted with it, because he made a deep impression on the cultural life of the Western world, and the world in general.
Due to his exceptional importance, St. Augustine has been enormously influential, so much so that it could be said, on one hand, that all the roads of Christian Latin literature lead to Hippo (today’s Annaba, on the Algerian coast), the place where he was a bishop, and on the other hand, that from this town of Roman Africa, where Augustine was bishop from 395 to 430, branch out many other roads of future Christianity and of Western culture itself.
Rarely has a civilization encountered a figure so great, capable of embracing its values and of proclaiming its intrinsic richness, formulating ideas and methods that serve to nurture successive generations, as Paul VI also emphasized: “One can say all of antiquity’s philosophy converge in his work, and from it derive currents of thought pervading the doctrinal tradition of the next centuries” (AAS, 62, 1970, p. 426).

Moreover, Augustine is the Father of the Church who has left the greatest number of writings. His biographer Possidius says: It seemed impossible that a man could write so much during his life. We will talk about his various works in a future session. Today we will focus on his life, a life that we can reconstruct from his writings, and in particular from the “Confessions,” his extraordinary spiritual autobiography written in praise of God, and which is his most popular work.
Precisely because of the attention paid to interiority and psychology, Augustine’s “Confessions” is a unique model in Western and non-Western literature, even including nonreligious literature, right through to modern times. The focus on spiritual life, on the mystery of self, on the mystery of God that hides in the self, is an extraordinary thing without precedent and remains, so to speak, a spiritual “vertex.”
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