Journeeman.

“It’s often said that Augustine believed we must first understand in order to believe. Is this true or false?”

It’s often said that Augustine believed we must first understand in order to believe. However, this is a common misrepresentation of his actual position. In fact, Augustine argued the opposite: that faith precedes understanding. He believed that faith is the necessary foundation upon which deeper understanding can be built. It’s crucial to return to the original sources to avoid perpetuating such misunderstandings, especially when dealing with complex theological concepts.

Augustine, in his Sermon 43, Section 6, grapples directly with this relationship, stating, ‘For understanding is the reward of faith.’ He cautions, ‘Therefore do not seek to understand in order to believe, but believe that you may understand; since, except ye believe, you shall not understand.’ Augustine emphasises the divine origin of this principle, drawing directly from the prophet Isaiah (7:9). As he puts it, ‘Unless you believe, you shall not understand.’ For Augustine, faith is not a blind leap, but the necessary first step on the path to true knowledge.

Augustine’s reasoning stems from his conviction that true knowledge of God cannot be attained through human reason alone. He recognised the limitations of what he called ‘natural theology,’ arguing that our understanding of the divine is inherently limited by our finite perspective. As Augustine saw it, we cannot ‘ascend into God’s mind’ or presume to fully comprehend the transcendent. Instead, God must take the initiative and reveal Himself to us. This self-disclosure, this act of God becoming immanent, is the only way we can truly know Him. It is through this revelation that we are able to respond in faith – not merely as intellectual assent, but as an act of loyalty and turning towards God. As we act loyally and turn towards Him, God may then grant us further understanding, deepening our knowledge and love. To attempt to know God through our own limited reason, Augustine would argue, is an act of arrogance, subjecting the divine to our scrutiny and will.

Even Anselm of Canterbury, whose approach might be misconstrued as prioritising intellectual inquiry, ultimately affirmed the primacy of faith. As he wrote in his Proslogion, ‘…ut per intellectum quaerat fidem, et quantum potest intelligat quod credit’ (that by understanding it may seek faith, and as far as it can, understand what it believes). He explicitly describes the entire work as an exercise in “faith seeking understanding” (fides quaerens intellectum) in the Prooemium (Preface). Thus, Anselm proposes a complex reciprocity between understanding and faith, where understanding, can deepen and strengthen faith. However, this does not negate the fundamental principle that faith is the foundation upon which understanding is built. 

Ultimately, faith must always remain the key that unlocks the capacity of one’s understanding. And faith here is not merely the act of believing, but the trust and confidence that turns towards the belief that God has the capacity to reveal Himself – an incarnational and high Christology. For God is the God of faith, faithful to Himself, and therefore true and just in what He reveals of Himself.

I recall a time when I was confined to a prison cell, often alone with only a Bible, pen, and paper. In that solitude, I embarked on a journey of trusting God to reveal Himself as I encountered His Word. Through countless hours of reading, thinking, meditating, and praying, new insights emerged – profoundly reasonable and life-shaking. In that experience, the Word of God became a living Word that I could see and understand. I began to grasp that Christ is the centre of all I understand and believe, and that the Scriptures constantly point to Him. In those moments of God’s self-disclosing revelation, I recognised Jesus Christ as the supreme expression of all that we can understand of God. When we encounter Christ through the Scriptures, we glimpse the very mind and heart of God – the meta-narrative, the hope of God birthed in a historical person and revealed through the witness of those who share their faith.

The above example illustrates what I came to understand many years ago as a young man. For me, it came down to a simple truth: unless God turns on the light, the room remains dark. It is God’s act that enlightens. My response is secondary – my faith turning towards Him, my confidence and trust in the light He is expressing within me and within my understanding. It is that light that then permeates what I do from that point forward, helping to define how I create the world around me, shaped by the revelation and the grace of God toward me. This permeation reflects the work of the Holy Spirit, who continues this great and discreet act of enlightenment, drawing us towards God through faith.

While I’ve learned much from Augustine, Anselm, and others, some questions remain. Do we truly need to understand consciousness, reason, and faith to grasp their relationship? Are our usual ideas about faith and reason illusions? Perhaps reason simply unfolds from faith, and faith from reason. Is there real dualism here, or are they different sides of the same coin? Is faith God’s act within us, while knowledge is just the response to that faith?

These themes of faith seeking understanding and the primacy of God’s revelation resonate with the work of 20th-century theologian Karl Barth. Like Augustine and Anselm, Barth emphasised that true knowledge of God is only possible through God’s own self-disclosure. As Barth wrote, ‘…the objectivity of God is not restricted by the fact that we have to understand God Himself as the real and primarily acting Subject of all real knowledge of God, so that the self-knowledge of God is the real and primary essence of all knowledge of God’ (Barth, The Knowledge of God). This highlights Barth’s conviction that all true knowledge of God originates from God Himself. However, while Augustine and Anselm sought to integrate faith and reason in various ways, Barth stressed the radical otherness of God and the limitations of human reason in grasping divine truth. Despite these differences, all three thinkers shared a fundamental conviction: that God takes the initiative in revealing Himself to humanity.

In conclusion, it’s worth revisiting Augustine’s concept of ‘Credo ut intelligam’ (I believe in order to understand). Perhaps the order is, in fact, the reverse of what we often assume, as per the initial question we posed.

While God is undoubtedly transcendent, without God’s immanent presence – without God becoming understandable to us in human form – the mystery of the divine can easily lead to obscurity and idolatry. In Christ, we find the knowledge of God that we truly need. It is in Him that we place our faith, and it is through this faith that illumination and understanding arise.

Much like the current debates surrounding consciousness, where we grapple with the relationship between individual awareness and a broader social consciousness, we must remember that faith and reason, while distinct, are both expressions of a unified being.

The consequence of this illumination is a complex and beautiful harmony between faith and reason, where the precise boundaries between the two may ultimately remain elusive.

Imagine waking tomorrow morning to a sunrise so beautiful it feels like spring itself is breathing upon you, bursting forth with the joy of life. The sun, the blooming buds, the blueness of the sky – these are beyond your control.

Yet, what you do control is what you choose to see and how you choose to appreciate it. These two realities – that which is beyond your control and that which is within your grasp – arise together as one unified experience.