In the Eternal City

It’s probably the single biggest question in theology, and in all of human experience:  “Why?”

Especially when answered in the midst of tragedy.  “Why is this happening?  Why is this happening to me?  What did I ever do to deserve this?”

It’s not surprising that it’s one of those questions that comes up most often for people who struggle to believe in Christianity.  It comes up plenty from Christians, too.  Isn’t God supposed to be good?  Isn’t he supposed to be powerful?  Isn’t he supposed to care about me and my life?

Certainly those are questions that Romans were likely asking in the 5th century, following the supposedly-unthinkable Sack of Rome.  And that’s where Augustine’s argument takes him now, to give a theological response to that event.  Effectively he’s trying to answer this age-old “problem of Evil”.  Many answers have been given, but let’s deal with the one we have in front of us…

Augustine’s answer has a few parts, and we’ll just look at each one briefly here, with a few comments.

1. God’s goodness to all men, sometimes called ‘common grace’, ought to be an goad towards repentance and belief: “the patience of God still invite[s] the wicked to repentance, even as the scourge of God educates the good to patience”.
2. The common experience of the goods and ills of this life has a levelling effect on the psyche of the believer: “that we might not too eagerly covet the things which wicked men are seen equally to enjoy, nor shrink with unseemly fear from the ills with which even good men often suffer”.
3. It points towards the eternal reality beyond this life, by leaving something still to be desired: “if every sin were now visited with manifest punishment, nothing would seem to be reserved for the final judgment; on the other hand, if no sin received now a plainly divine punishment, it would be concluded that there is no divine providence at all”.
4. Someone’s inner character is revealed in their suffering: “thus it is that in the same affliction the wicked detest God and blaspheme, while the good pray and praise”.
5. The universality of sin: “every man, however laudably he lives, yet yields in some points to the lust of the flesh” [he’s not referring there purely to what us moderns might call ‘lust’, but to sinful desire in general].
6. Even the ‘good’ are worthy of chastisement: “they are punished together, not because they have spent an equally corrupt life, but because the good as well as the wicked, although not equally with them, love this present life”.

One of the reasons Augustine is so highly esteemed, is that he is deeply insightful into the human condition and human psychology, in a way that very few others before him had been (we shall exempt Jesus from consideration, for obvious reasons!).  I think that here we see something of that; Augustine isn’t purely a theologian, but also a pastor (indeed his day job as Bishop of Hippo would have been a deeply pastoral role).  I can certainly identify with a number of his points:

• Suffering is certainly a spiritual measuring-stick.  I have been so deeply encouraged by the way that Christians who have had terrible things happen to them have clung to Jesus for all that they’re worth.  Similarly I’ve seen the hopelessness and despair that many friends have felt in the midst of suffering without God in their lives.  I know people for whom times of pain and heartbreak have been the times that have driven them away from God, revealing their spiritual character.
• The most common way I’ve heard the big “why?” question asked is “why do bad things happen to good people?” or something similar.  The Bible’s answer to that question, which Augustine touches upon here, is that there’s no-one who fits into that “good people” category; for whom it is unjust for God to visit any calamity upon them.
• I’m certainly guilty of loving this life too much, and the example Augustine gives is one that sets off my internal guilt-alarm.  He accuses some Christians of being more interested in the benefits of this life, and in particular of the good opinion of our fellow men and women, to the point that we fail to follow our Lord Jesus and witness to him where the opportunity arises.  I’ve done that.  Chickened out on sharing the gospel with someone because I think it might be awkward, or it might somehow damage our relationship.  And when I do that, I’m basically valuing my own comfort and sense of social ease over the other person’s eternal fate and relationship with God.  My selfishness is revealed at that point.  And it’s clearly not a new problem!

That last point is probably the big take-home for me from these chapters.  We’re living here in Italy explicitly to labour in this corner of God’s harvest field.  It’s literally my job to talk to people, Christian and not, about Jesus and his love for them.  So when I chicken out, when I’m ashamed of the gospel, I’m not doing my job as a missionary.  But I’m also not doing my job as a Christian:

“even if you should suffer for righteousness’ sake, you will be blessed. Have no fear of them, nor be troubled, but in your hearts honour Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defence to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect, having a good conscience, so that, when you are slandered, those who revile your good behaviour in Christ may be put to shame”
(1 Pet 3:14–16)

May that be true of me, and my brothers and sisters who may be reading this.  May God guide you in being faithful defenders of the hope that is in us.

See you next post.

So here we go, the first proper post of the blog…

Augustine starts with a little bit of a history lesson, in part because one of the major accusations aimed against Christianity in Augustine’s lifetime was that the infamous Sack of Rome (by the Gothic “barbarians” in 410AD) was the result of the Roman people abandoning their gods for the Christian God.

Augustine, of course, disputes this interpretation of events.  Indeed, his focus is not so much on the Sack of Rome itself, but the behaviour of Christians during that traumatic event.  It seems that many Romans, Christian or not, fled into churches to escape the Goths.  Contrary to how Hollywood would perhaps portray them, it seems that the Goths respected the sacred nature of those churches and spared those who fled into them, regardless of whether they were Christians or not.  The Goths, it seems, had been converted to Christianity some time previously and would not make war within the grounds of a church.  Certainly Augustine makes the point that many of these same Romans, who effectively owe their lives to the mercy of the Christian invaders, blaspheme against the same God whose merciful character the Goths were attempting to emulate.

I do take issue with chapter 3 of this section, however, because Augustine starts down a treacherous theological slope.  He scoffs at the Romans for trusting their gods, who were unable to save Troy from defeat and destruction (the Roman gods being the Greek gods re-invented, whom he indeed says were carried off from defeated Troy).  Although he’s right that the Romans trusted in gods that were no gods at all – how could Minerva save or protect anyone when she’s not real – history doesn’t prove or disprove that.  The history of Israel proves that the fortunes of a kingdom or a nation don’t match up automatically with the power of your god.  When the LORD judged Israel, the nation fell into slavery, exile and oppression – not because He wasn’t powerful enough, or good enough, but because his holy character couldn’t stand their wickedness any more. And even then, Ecclesiastes 9:2 makes very clear that even individual blessing and calamity can’t be linked directly to your behaviour, as does Jesus himself in Matt 5:45.  Augustine covers this to some degree in the following chapter, so we’ll get to that in more detail I presume!

So what do I make of all this now?  In part, Augustine’s point that the pagans willingly ignore the benefits they have reaped from Christians still stands.  Certainly that’s true back home in Australia, where I’ve noticed that society has no sense of history when it comes to our education system in particular, and the significant debt that they owe to the church for establishing and running schools for a very long time.  All in the name of maintaining a ‘secular’ system.  I don’t know whether there are any particular equivalents here in Italy, but I do know that people are all too ready to write off Christianity because of the conduct of the church, without any appreciation for the benefits their society enjoys because of their Christian heritage.

The other implication that I’ve been reflecting on for a while from these chapters is the public conduct of the church, and of Christians.  It’s no secret that sexual abuse within the church has done immense harm to the cause of the gospel, both here in Italy and indeed all over the world.  Similarly, here in Italy the Catholic Church’s abuse of power in other ways has driven people away from Jesus – especially in the south there is a view that the Church deliberately kept people impoverished and downtrodden, so as to be able to exert more influence over their lives.

But therein also lies an opportunity – both at a large-scale and individual level, Christians treating others well (especially non-Christians) can be a powerful witness to Christ.  The manner in which the church now responds to the horror of sexual abuse allegations can demonstrate both individual and corporate remorse and repentance, without clearing the guilty from human justice.  Similarly, the way Christians respond to those in dire need in our society can not only demonstrate that we follow the Christ who gave himself up for others, but also that such a Christ is worth following.  I think particularly of refugees and asylum seekers.  Here in Italy as with back home in Australia, there is a lot of ungrounded fear, suspicion and sometimes not-so-latent racism associated with refugees, especially from Muslim-majority countries.  Dare we Christians forget that our Lord himself was a refugee from an oppressive tyrant?  The earthly city is one where might is (by and large) right, whereas it is the distinctive mark of the city of God, and of her citizens, that the meek and lowly shall inherit it!

There’s so much more in this chunk of the City of God, but again this is a reflection not a study guide – I’m just riffing off what stands out to me.  Comments always welcome.  Until next post, ‘bye for now.