St Augustine, Fitzwilliam Museum (author’s photo)
Today is the feast day of St Augustine, the patron saint of restless hearts.
I have come to a greater appreciation of Augustine more recently through reading and re-reading Jamie Smith’s On the Road With St Augustine: A Real–World Spirituality for Restless Hearts.
I’ve come back to many passages of the book. But there’s one I come back to the most:
I won’t pretend there isn’t something scandalous about his advice. Augustine will unapologetically suggest that you were made for God—that home is found beyond yourself, that Jesus is the way, the the cross is a raft in the storm-tossed sea we call “the world”. But what I hope you’ll hear in this is not a solution or an answer, not merely a dogmatic claim or demand. For Augustine, this was a hard-fought epiphany that emerged after trying everything else, after a long time on the road, at the end of his rope. The Christian gospel, for Augustine, wasn’t just the answer to an intellectual question (though it was that); it was more like a shelter in a storm, a port for a wayward soul, nourishment for a prodigal who was famished, whose own heart had become, he said, ‘a famished land’. It was, he would later testify, like someone had finally shown him his home country, even though he’d never been there before. It was the Father he’d spent a lifetime looking for, saying to him, ‘Welcome home’.