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The introduction describes the scholastic Latin debate over the relation between the soul and its powers in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth century. It shows that this debate concerned the question of how a living being’s natural kind, which is determined by its soul, and its kind-specific powers are related. Is a living being’s soul the very same thing as its kind-specific powers, or is its soul perhaps something more basic upon which its kind-specific powers depend? The introduction shows that there were two overarching answers to this question in the thirteenth and fourteenth century: the identity theory, according to which the soul and its powers are identical, and the distinction theory, according to which the soul is distinct from its powers. The introduction first highlights that the debate between identity and distinction theorists already arose in the twelfth century in response to Augustine’s doctrine of the image of the Trinity. It then traces, in broad strokes, the development of the debate from the twelfth century until 1250. Finally, it discusses the phase between 1250 and 1320 focusing on the reception of Aristotle’s theory of the soul in the Latin West.
This text of Bonaventure’s gives a nice indication of how Aristotle begins to influence the debate about the relation between the soul and its powers in the Latin West around the 1250s. In this text, Bonaventure is still very much in dialogue with the earlier debate. He recounts the early twelfth-century identity theory and earlier versions of the distinction theory, and he argues in favor of the version of the distinction theory defended by early Franciscans like Alexander of Hales. As Bonaventure states this latter theory, the soul and its powers are one “in substance” but differ “in essence”, the essential difference having to do with the fact that the powers of the soul, unlike the soul itself, are relations. But Bonaventure also introduces a philosophical innovation into this theory—one that draws on Aristotle. He argues that the powers of the soul, despite being relations, are special types of substances, namely, substances “by a tracing back” (per reductionem). He understands by “substances by a tracing back” imperfect occupants of the category of substance.
This chapter offers a critical appraisal of two dominant approaches to pluralism, conflict, and difference in contemporary political theology, both of which draw on the thought of Augustine. Postliberal Augustinianism, represented by the “Radical Orthodoxy” of John Milbank, develops a highly sophisticated account of the metaphysics of human sociality, grounded in a creative reading of Trinitarian theology which construes political community in terms of harmonious difference. Augustinian civic liberalism, represented by Charles Mathewes and Eric Gregory, draws on Augustine’s understanding of love and difference in order to propose an ethics and ascetics of liberal citizenship. Both, however, thematize political community and difference in essentially oppositional terms, privileging one or the other, and reading conflict in decidedly negative terms. The limits of these political theological strategies reveal a need to reconceptualize the nature of political community and the place of conflict therein.
This introduction assesses a range of popular and scholarly attitudes toward the current state of American democracy, identifying in them a dominant theme of modern democratic theory, namely, an aversion to conflict. Just as John Rawls believed democratic societies to be perennially threatened by a “mortal conflict” between comprehensive doctrines and their “transcendent elements not admitting of compromise,” and so proposed a theory of liberal order aimed at preempting, containing, and resolving these conflicts, so contemporary critics perceive the intractable disagreements and polarizations of American political culture to be only corrosive and destabilizing. They propose strategies for achieving social cohesion grounded in a sense of national unity, shared history, or common identity more fundamental to difference. Many religious persons and traditions exhibit a similar aversion to conflict, believing it to indicate some form of sin, injustice, or moral error. I question this presumption that conflict is inherently vicious, ruinous, or violent, and begin to sketch an alternative view of conflict as basic to human creaturehood and potentially generative for social life.
In this final chapter, I explore how the experience of democratic conflict might be conceptualized by religious traditions in theologically and ethically meaningful ways. I return to the Augustinian tradition and its understanding of love as a resource for thematizing agonism theologically. First, I consider the role of love in Augustine’s moral psychology and political theory, showing how pluralist politics can be understood as a practice of discovering and pursuing “common objects of love” amidst difference. Next, I analyze the notion of political friendship in Augustine and Aristotle in order to show how social relations around these common objects of love might incorporate forms of conflict, disagreement, and parrhesia that are ordered to tending these common goods. I conclude by looking at two figures who extend Augustine’s political theology of love in distinctly liberative directions under the notion of enemy-love. Gustavo Gutiérrez and Martin Luther King, Jr., I argue, develop accounts of the imperative to love the enemy in ways that encompass forms of confrontation, opposition, and conflict in seeking to convert enemies to friends.
What can we learn from Augustine’s preaching about the nature and purpose of preaching? In this paper, I will argue that in his preaching Augustine presents to his audience a theology of words and the Word that achieves what it declares; that is to say, rather than a mere doctrinal curiosity, Augustine’s preached theology of words and the Word accomplishes a homiletical goal that transcends the transmission of an idea and, instead, guides the faithful listener’s heart towards the eternal Word of God through the temporal words of the preacher and the written words of scripture. To put it another way, Augustine’s theology of words and the Word is both a theological claim and a practical pastoral tool.
Nicholas Norman-Krause argues, in this authoritative and sophisticated new treatment of conflict, that contestation is a basic - potentially regenerative - aspect of any flourishing democratic politics. In developing a distinctive 'agonistic theology,' and relating the political theory of agonism to social and democratic life, the author demonstrates that the conflicts of democracy may have a beneficial significance and depend at least in part on faith traditions and communities for their successful negotiation. In making his case, he deftly examines a rich range of religious and secular literatures, whether from the thought of Augustine, Aquinas, and Stanley Cavell or from less familiar voices such as early modern jurist and political thinker Johannes Althusius and twentieth-century Catholic social philosopher Yves Simon. Liberationists including Gustavo Gutiérrez and Martin Luther King, Jr. are similarly recruited for a theological account of conflict read not just as concomitant to, but also as constitutive of, democratic living.
The relations between medieval and early modern Jews and the popes rested on consistently applied canonical and Roman law principles, alongside Pauline theology, which was itself bifurcated. These principles were fundamentally restrictive, and the restrictions became tighter over time. To speak of a mild early Middle Ages, driven by Augustinian principles, which turned radically hostile after the First Crusade, is a distortion. Nobody mentioned Augustine until Innocent III. There were forced conversions even in the early Middle Ages. Similarly, the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 was not a turning point, but a culmination. Subsequent attacks on literature were new, but not papally initiated. Beginning with Benedict XIII in 1415, a move to press conversion – without ignoring old limits, theoretically – began to grow, which culminated in Paul IV’s foundation of the Roman ghetto in 1555, intended be a cauldron of conversion achieved through repression. The policy failed.
It is often suggested that new thinking brought by Christianity spelled the end of ancient ideas of the city. Three Christian authors of the fifth century -- Orosius, Augustine, and Salvian -- have much to say on cities and citizenship. Despite the shock of the sack of Rome, all three are convinced of the value of Roman citizenship, and respond resiliently to the troubles of Rome and other cities of the empire. Augustine’s treatise, the City of God, while offering the Heavenly City and a citizenship in faith as the ultimate aspiration, see it as entangled in the terrestrial world of cities. Salvian is scathing about the moral failings of the city elites, to which he attributes the divine wrath of barbarian devastations, and vividly portrays urban corruption, but in a plea for better cities rather than abandonment of cities.
Augustinian accounts of ‘primal sin’ face a dilemma: either ‘Lucifer’s’ fall is arbitrary, or it results from God creating a flawed creature. Augustine and others hold that an omnipotent God faces unavoidable limits in creating creatures. In particular, creatures cannot enjoy God’s own first-person awareness of God’s goods, but must experience them second-personally. The resulting qualitative phenomenological difference between (1) the first-person awareness Lucifer had of the goods of his own being, and (2) his second-person awareness of the goods of God means that self-regarding goods would ‘light up’ for Lucifer very differently than other-regarding goods. This opens a psychologically resonant and metaphysically potent account of how the pre-Fall Lucifer could have faced a genuine value conflict – a conflict for which God is not culpable – in which Lucifer might come to love the goods presented first-personally (his own) over the goods presented second-personally (God’s).
Why are the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke so similar, yet different? Modern scholars have developed four main approaches to the synoptic problem: That the evangelists tapped into testimonies about Jesus, or drew from many written fragments, or used a common exemplar, or modified each other's work. The first three approaches find solid support in antiquity, yet ironically, the fourth approach dominates gospel scholarship, without producing any consensus. In this study, Paul A. Rainbow reclaims the discarded proto-gospel hypothesis of the earliest modern critics, based on a fresh reading of traditions recorded by Papias in the early second century CE. He challenges the Utilization hypotheses – that the synoptists adapted the work of each other, in various theoretical configurations – by offering an historically nuanced hypothesis of a proto-gospel, which the three evangelists independently translated into Greek from Hebrew and enriched with oral testimonies and written fragments available to them.
This chapter begins by tracing the consequences of the subsuming in modernity of mythos under the auspices of logos, namely the reduction of God to the status of the ‘biggest’ of all beings. The consequences of this for mythopoiesis are many, but chief among them is the foreclosure of the further distancing of plainly theological (that is, mythopoieic) discourse from the realm of the reasonable. By re-examining the relationship between the natural and the supernatural, however, the chapter concludes by pointing towards a way of understanding not only the work of theologians and people of faith as pointing towards the divine, but that all of our mythopoiesis is, in some sense, a making towards God.
Significant attention has been devoted to the problem of ‘divine hiddenness’ proposed by JL Schellenberg. I propose a novel response that involves denying part of the empirical premise in divine hiddenness arguments, which holds that nonresistant nonbelievers are capable of relationship with God. While Plantinga and others in ‘reformed’ epistemology have at times appealed to original sin as an explanation for divine hiddenness, such responses might seem outlandish to many, given the way that many find nonbelievers to be no more or less epistemically or morally blameworthy than believers. Further, such appeals to original sin seem to give a ‘just-so’ story that at least leaves the situation dialectically balanced. I show that a classically Augustinian notion of original sin can provide a sufficient response to those objections, and that appeal to original sin can form an empirically grounded response to the divine hiddenness problem, beyond a simple defense. If the possibility of original sin-type scenarios is compatible with God’s perfect love, then the phenomenon of apparently nonresistant nonbelievers would push us toward considering the possibility that humans have lost those capacities for relationship with God by a Fall-like event in the past.
Chapter 1 provides the broad context of Nicene–Homoian interactions in Africa, including those that preceded the Vandal conquest. It examines the involvement of the African church in the Trinitarian controversy of the fourth century and its intertwining with the Donatist crisis as these experiences explain the later attitude of the African clergy toward Vandal Homoianism.
Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy promises an existential consolation that results from a philosophical insight. But what exactly does this consolation consist in and what is the insight that provides it? This chapter argues that Boethius’ philosophical consolation arises from an insight into the highest principle (principium) of practical knowledge: God conceived of as the highest good (summum bonum). For Boethius, the cognition of this principle also leads to an insight into a comprehensive cosmic order, ruled by God as the highest good, against the background of which even painful experiences, such as those of the first-person narrator of the Consolation, can be reassessed. Given that Boethius’ notion of consolation is embedded in the context of the Greco–Roman philosophical tradition, this chapter considers the metaphysical underpinnings of Boethius’ practical philosophy in light of his main philosophical predecessors: Plato, Aristotle, the Neoplatonists, and Augustine.
Twentieth-century theologians advanced a consensus position that the doctrine of deification was alien to Augustine’s theology—even impossible to square with his other commitments—and that even if traces of the doctrine could be detected, they were, at best, of marginal importance to his intellectual topography. This position, however, has been persuasively challenged by several investigations during the past three decades. This article builds upon these latter investigations to demonstrate how the notion of deification is prevalent throughout his corpus—whether linguistically evident by his use of technical terms such as deificare and cognates, or more often, conceptually in his reflections upon anthropology, Christology, and ecclesiology. The article concludes by noting two of Augustine’s distinctive contributions to the post-Nicene development of deification—that is, an emphasis upon the sacramental and ecclesiological contours of the doctrine.
This chapter looks at popular culture through the lens of lived religion, with a particular focus on the late antique countryside. After an initial discussion exploring the dimensions of ‘lived religion’, it is then explored through two extended case studies. The first looks at ritual practices associated with the midsummer feast of John the Baptist, including ritual bathing. The second case study looks at ritual activities aimed at mitigating the effects of hail, a persistent threat to agriculture and viticulture in the region. These rituals, and the responses from church and secular elites and authorities alike, are examined in their social and economic context. A range of different types of evidence is considered, from charms through to imperial legislation, as well as ecclesiastical texts of various kinds.
‘Strong’ theistic naturalism is advocated, so that the notion of ‘special’ divine action is rendered redundant while scientism and a ‘God of the gaps’ notion of God’s action are avoided. A version of this kind of naturalism can affirm miraculous events in the way that Augustine of Hippo seems to have envisaged, which may now be interpreted as analogous to the scientist’s notion of regime change. In this context, some of the insights of evolutionary psychology become important, especially in relation to the evolution of human religiosity, which has significant implications for developing religious pluralism.
Giorgio Agamben’s references to a ‘coming community’ keep readers hunting for its characteristics, specifically for prescriptions that would signal how its political culture might be developed and maintained. His ambivalence toward Augustine prevents him, as well as readers, from discovering contributions the prelate’s preferences for compassionate collectives – which especially mark his polemical treatises, correspondence, and sermons – might make to giving a shape to the coming community that comports with many of Agamben’s other politically significant remarks.
The first chapter explores the meaning of religion - which is much broader than the belief-system of any given ecclesial communion - and also the meaning of theosis in its early historical development. Religion is considered up to the early modern age but theosis only to the end of the patristic age as the springboard for the study of later developments as they relate to religion.