Liberal Arts as Admission of Need

Presaging the extended foray into the rationale of a Liberal Arts education for Christians, in Book II of Augustine's De Doctrina Christiana, the Bishop of Hippo prefaces his project with a defense against those who would reject the making of rules for the interpretation of Scripture. Augustine imagines basically three types of objections, the first two of which do not really trouble him. He answers both of them in a single paragraph while spending the rest of the prologue on the third objection, namely that his regulae are unnecessary since the Spirit can give us all we need to read Scripture well. Augustine contends that not only does sociality go to the heart of human being; the desire to evade it has its roots in a lack of charity, which (he will later say) is the precondition of interpreting Scripture well.

Those who raise this objection have received knowledge of the Scriptures from some kind of charismatic inspiration rather than a careful and orderly inquiry into the text. These objectors "will declare that these regulations are necessary to no one, but that everything which may laudably be revealed about the obscurities of those books can be revealed with divine assistance."  Augustine fears that those who boast in divine inspiration may also be tempting "Him in whom we have believed," expecting "to be 'caught up to the third heaven,' as the Apostle says, 'whether in the body or out of the body,' and there to hear 'secret words that man may not repeat'" (cf. 2 Cor. 12:2,4). They would rather, perhaps, hear the gospel only from Jesus "rather than from men."

Augustine responds in a two-fold way to this objection. First, he reminds such people that there is frankly no escaping dependence anyway. For one thing, "they have learned at least the alphabet from men." Additionally, "any one of us has learned his own language by hearing it spoken habitually from childhood, and any other language such as Greek or Hebrew or the like either by hearing it or by human instruction." That is, there is no escaping human dependence even if we wish to. The Spirit who inspires the St. Antony's of the world is the same Spirit who presided over creation and vivified human beings who were created male and female, i.e., as social creatures.

His second response to his (apparent) detractors takes the form of detailed reflection upon Paul's Corinthian correspondence and the book of Acts, each of which explore the relationship of charismata to catechism, of power to parish, of the Spirit to the body of Christ. Reflection upon these texts allows Augustine to concede the possibility of such a blessing while casting real doubt on its efficacy, given that the objectors show an ignorance of Paul's doctrine of charity and Luke's ecclesiology. Sure, Paul was drawn up into the third heaven, but this is the same Paul who insisted that the gathered community ("ya'll") is the Temple of the Spirit (cf. 1 Cor. 3:17). Paul may have heard the gospel directly from Jesus, but he "was nevertheless sent to a man that he might receive the sacraments and be joined to the church" (cf. Acts 9:3-18). Likewise, Cornelius experienced the advent of the Spirit upon the Gentiles, but still he received sacraments from Peter and was taught by the Apostle what should be believed, hoped, and loved (Acts 10, cf. 1 Cor. 13:13). "Charity itself, which holds men together in a knot of unity," is the most important virtue a Christian can have. And the development of that virtue necessitates that the ordinary way of Christian catechism take place between people.

De Doctrina will proceed, in Book II, to make an extended defense of the liberal arts, of the value of learning biblical languages, history, and philosophy, on the grounds that the human arts enable us to learn the Scriptures. The willingness to undergo serious study, for the sake of knowing and loving God, can itself be an act of charity, by which we learn to love and hallow our neighbor. Augustine does not stake out a hard and fast position here; those who receive inspiration to know the Scriptures "do not rejoice in a mediocre gift." Equally, knowledge can puff up (cf. 1 Cor. 8:1), but charity can build up. Study can be an occasion for pride, but those who are enlightened by the Spirit may also fall victim to that great temptation. Charity alone edifies, and without it no one will see the Lord, either in Scripture or in the eschatological kingdom. In the prologue to De Doctrina, then, we see that not only is charity the rule for reading Scripture (Book II) but the one measure by which we may know whether apparent spiritual gladiators are inspired by God's Spirit or another. It is hard to imagine a more satisfying interpretation of the great 13th chapter of Paul's first letter to Corinth.