Homily for St. Augustine's Day
Augustine remains a fascinating man and saint for a number or reasons. First of all, I suppose, he was most obviously human. He fell in and out of bed more often than he fell in and out of love, and he rambles on about it incessantly. Medieval and early modern saints tended to be type-cast if not entirely plaster-cast. With the Medieval saints, the Church insisted that they achieved sanctity despite their humanity. With Augustine it is clear that he achieved sanctity because of his humanity. The medieval saint is presented as largely withdrawing from life and its turmoil; Augustine crashed through life like a bull in a china shop.
The 19th century American poet and philosopher, Ralf Waldo Emerson had Augustine in mind when he drew up what we would call today a 'jobs description' for a preacher:
"The capital secret of the preacher's profession is to convert life into truth. Discipline and doctrine is forged in the cauldron of human experience. Real history is the yeast in the dough. The true preacher can always be known by this, that he deals out to the people his life, life passed through the fire of thought. "
If we are to take Emerson's demands seriously, then Augustine was the preacher par excellence. Every book he wrote, every homily he delivered all passed through the cauldron of his own experience. He preached about that which he knew, and he preached to people whom he knew intimately. Augustine would have known his congregation since his childhood days. He grew up among them, though he did leave the area for his education. However, few members of his flock could read or write. Writing materials were scarce and the people themselves were not educated. They were dock workers, farmers, gardeners, and small merchants, according. Augustine probably preached several times a week and sometimes even twice a day: at mass and, in the evening, at vespers. There is no way to know how many sermons he delivered beyond the 396 located so far. More may yet turn up. Just a few years ago, some hitherto unknown sermons were discovered in a fifteenth-century folder in a library in Mainz, Germany.
He preached homely homilies in his own basilica at Hippo, whereas the sermons he delivered in the Metropolitan city of Carthage reflected the more diverse, educated audience, which frequently included officials of imperial Rome.
As I mentioned in the missalette there, at Hippo Augustine often took his place in the middle of the crowded basilica, goading and coaxing his congregation into responding to his assertions and charges. And they often did! "He was close to the people; he could see and hear them. He could tell from their groans, their sighs, their cries, and even their laughter whether or not they were with him."
He was regularly heckled during his homilies, but Augustine seems to have invited that sort of reaction. On the feast of the Epiphany, January 6th, 422, one staunch citizen of Hippo dismissed Augustine as 'an old windbag' to his face in his own basilica. But, worse still, the entire congregation joined in and agreed with the heckler. Augustine had a note inserted in the margins of his homily later: "I thought at first that there was only one drunk...!" Apparently the Epiphany was celebrated in a very enthusiastic manner in Hippo. Augustine often consolidated this bond with his people by proclaiming to them: 'Look, we are all fellow-students here. We are all learning!' He spoke without written notes but never without preparation.
He was also a great entertainer. He was in the habit of calling an imaginary person from the congregation, asking him to sit at his feet, and then entering into an imaginary dialogue with him. He often called this poor unfortunate imaginary person Felix (which means 'happy'). And, apparently, he was a bit of a ventriloquist, able to throw his voice in the direction of Felix as interview him as a way of discoursing on his theme, be it marital fidelity, ethics or maybe even heresy. Imagine Augustine talking to an imaginary person who had committed adultery or defrauded his employer, right there before everyone. Or refuting a person whose beliefs were well known, perhaps popular, but not orthodox. Of course, the particular lesson would have been suggested by one of the day's readings, or by a scandal in the town.
One can certainly understand Augustine's popularity when one reads phrases such as "what parents would be so foolish as to send [their child] to school to learn what the teacher thinks?" He knew how to keep the focus on the topic rather than on the teacher/preacher.
Was his congregation in a more receptive mood than those of today? Probably not. But they did come from close by, they knew one another, and they knew how to appreciate the greatness of Augustine's talents.
As Father Martin, Augustine's latest biographer, pointed out, Augustine's flock walked as a community to the Eucharist. There was a camaraderie and easy familiarity among them as they entered their church and stood shoulder to shoulder. They and their bishop were a true community of believers. And, as far as Augustine was concerned, a lively liturgy meant a lively faith. Both presupposed community.
If Augustine and his flock could connect with one another and with the Word, surely the educated clergy and congregations of the 21st century could do so as well. Spending quality time with the experts of previous times, especially Augustine, in any case would be worth the time and effort. Perhaps this is something we could look at more closely when we move back to our renovated buildings? But, in the meantime, like the good people of Hippo, lets us celebrate the feast with some abandon!