THEOSISAugustine of Hippo
Behold, a humble man prays out loud, inviting us to hear and recognize Him: is this not the one of whom the apostle spoke, declaring, "Though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that ye through His poverty might be enriched" (2 Corinthians 8:9)? If He is indeed the one, why does He appear destitute? In what way can He be deemed rich, who cannot behold wealth? Who among all is wealthier than the Creator of riches themselves, even those that hold no true value? Through Him, we are granted true riches: abilities, memory, virtue, health, senses, and the very nature of our being—when these are safeguarded, even the poor find abundance. Through Him, we also receive immeasurable treasures such as faith, godliness, righteousness, charity, purity, and good character; for none of these attributes are possessed without Him who justifies the sinful. Behold, what wealth! How can we recognize these words in such a rich person? "I ate ashes as bread and mixed my drink with weeping." Such great affluence leads to this? The first kind of fortune seems immensely high, yet the other appears profoundly low. And now, let us test if this humble figure is indeed He, for the Word became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14).
Consider also these words: "I am Your servant, and the son of Your servant." Observe, this servant, pure, a virgin, and a mother—herein lies our poverty, as He took on the form of a servant, emptying Himself. He did this so that you may not be daunted by His wealth but may instead approach Him in the humility of your need. He clothed Himself in the likeness of a servant; in this way, He embraced our want, rendering Himself poor while making us rich. We are drawing closer to understanding these truths about Him, yet we are not yet bold enough to declare them unreservedly.
Let this humble one add poverty to poverty; let Him transform our lowly bodies; let Him be our Head while we are His members, so that the two may become one flesh (Philippians 3:21). He desires us as His body. The repentant are also a part of His body, unified in His Church, for He did not choose a Church without these words: "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand" (Matthew 3:2).
Let us listen to the petitions of the Head and the body, the Bridegroom and the Bride, Christ and the Church, one person, united in perfect completeness. Although the Word and the flesh are not one in every sense, the Father and the Word are united; thus, Christ and the Church embody one person, one perfect man in the fullness of His essence. Let us then heed Christ, who is poor among us and with us, for the very title indicates the destitute.
Finally, remember my understanding of who that humble person was: let us hear His prayer and recognize His identity. When you discern something that cannot be related to His Head, do not be misled; rather, discern that which you hear as echoing the weakness of the body, thereby recognizing the voice of the members in the Head. The title is "The Prayer of the Suffering One," a prayer poured out before the Lord amid torment. This is the same poor man who professes, "From the ends of the earth I will call upon Thee when my heart is in travail." He suffers because He is also Christ; as the Prophet illustrates, He refers to Himself simultaneously as both Bridegroom and Bride: "He hath put a diadem upon me as the bridegroom, and as the bride hath adorned me with jewels" (Isaiah 61:10).
He called Himself the Bridegroom, and He called Himself the Bride; for this indicates that the Bridegroom pertains to the Head and the Bride to the body, allowing them to express one voice, united as one flesh. Let us listen and recognize ourselves in these words; and if we find ourselves separate, let us strive to be joined.
"Hear my prayer, O Lord, and let my cry come unto Thee" (Psalm 100:1). Saying "Hear my prayer, Lord" signifies "Let my cry come unto Thee," as the feeling of the petitioner is emphasized through repetition. "Turn not away Thy face from me." When has God turned His face away from His Son? When did the Father forsake Christ? But due to my member's scarcity, I plead, turn not away from me: in any day of grief, incline Thy ear unto me (Psalm 101:2).
In my current troubles, I am joined by others in distress; not just today, but also tomorrow, my descendants will face tribulation. In every generation, until the end of time, I bear the burdens, alongside those in my body. Peter prayed, as did Paul, and so did the other Apostles; the Faithful prayed in their era and will continue to pray in the ages to come. Soon, I implore for what You are willing to grant. I seek not earthly things, as the earthly man does; rather, liberated at last from my state of downfall, I yearn for the kingdom of heaven. "Hear me soon," for it is solely with such longing that You promised, "Even while Thou speakest, I will say, Here am I" (Isaiah 58:9).
What calls you? What sorrow, what need compels you to ask? O destitute one, before the gates of the all-rich God, what desire drives your pleas? What need leads you to seek relief?
"For my days have vanished like smoke" (Psalm 100:3). O days! If they are days, then where light is acknowledged, there understanding is born. My days must therefore be temporal, passing like smoke, is it not a sign of pride that causes such ebbing? Notice how smoke, akin to arrogance, ascends, swells, and disappears; thus, it is justly fleeting, not enduring. "And my bones are burnt as in a furnace." My bones and my strength are not devoid of grief or consuming fire. No greater burden exists than that of Christ’s body, nor can there be more strength than that of the holy apostles. Yet, observe how even their bones encounter burning. Who takes offense, and I am not consumed? (2 Corinthians 11:29). They are valiant, faithful interpreters and proclaimers of truth, living out their words, and yet all who cause offense are like a furnace to them. For love exists within them, and more so within the bones. The bones reside within the flesh, providing support to all. Should anyone experience offense and thereby harm their soul, it causes their bone to burn in proportion to their discontent.
Consider Adam, the progenitor of the human race. From him misery spread, the seed of hereditary poverty emerged. Let him, who once was in despair within his own body, speak now with hope as he says, “My heart is afflicted and withered like grass” (Psalm 101:4). This is well-deserved, for “all flesh is grass” (Isaiah 40:6). But how has this come to be? Because I neglected to partake of my bread. God commanded concerning bread, for what constitutes the nourishment of the soul? It was the serpent that tempted, and the woman who sinned by reaching for the forbidden fruit (Genesis 3:6); in doing so, she forgot the commandment and was left stricken, her heart withering like grass due to neglecting her bread.
Thus, let us now partake of the bread we have overlooked. This very Bread has now come, and in His body, we may recall our forgetfulness, crying out in poverty for true wealth. Now eat, for you are in His body as He proclaims, “I am the living bread which came down from heaven” (John 6:41). You have overlooked your bread; yet after His crucifixion, all the ends of the earth will recall and turn towards the Lord. From this neglect, let memory be revived; let us partake of the bread from heaven so that we may live—not the manna, which they ate and died (John 6:49)—the bread of which it is said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness” (Matthew 5:6).
"From the voice of my groaning, my bones have cleaved to my flesh" (Psalm 101:5). Many are in anguish, and I share their groaning; even regarding this, I grieve because they lament wrongful deeds. A man mourns the loss of a coin, yet he loses faith and does not ache. I weigh wealth against belief, finding far more cause to grieve for him who fails to lament as he should or does not grieve at all. He engages in fraud and delights in it. What gain remains, and with what loss does he endure? He has acquired money, yet he has forfeited righteousness. For this reason, he who knows how to grieve will lament; he who is close to the Head, clinging righteously to the body of Christ, groans for that very reason. Conversely, the carnal do not lament for this cause; they invoke their groans for reasons outside this frame. Yet, we cannot disdain them, even if they either do not mourn at all or do so for the wrong motives. We desire to lead them to correction, and when we fail, we ourselves sigh; yet in our groaning, we remain united with them.
"I have become like a pelican in the wilderness and like an owl among the broken walls" (Psalm 100:6). Here we have three birds and three venues: the pelican, the owl, and the sparrow, situated in three distinct environments—wilderness, ruins, and rooftops. First, we must consider what the pelican signifies: it hails from remote locations that remain unfamiliar to us, notably by the banks of the Nile in Egypt. Whatever sort of bird it is, we should heed what the Psalm conveys: "It dwells in the wilderness." Why debate its form, its attributes, its voice, or its habits? As the Psalm informs, it is a solitary bird.
The owl thrives in darkness and lives within the ruins, where walls lack roofs or inhabitants. In terms of roofs and sparrows, you are well aware. I perceive someone from the body of Christ—a preacher of the Word, compassionate towards the weak, in pursuit of Christ’s triumph and being mindful of their heavenly calling (Matthew 25:26). Let us examine these three perspectives drawn from His stewardship. Did such a man approach non-believers? He is a pelican in the wilderness. Has he come to Christians and retreated? He is an owl in the broken walls; for he does not abandon even the darkness of those who dwell at night, seeking them out. Has he not reached out to the believers who, though dwelling within the house, seem to have lost their faith or are merely warm in their beliefs? The sparrow calls out to them not in the wilderness, for they are Christians; nor among the ruins, for they have not crumbled; but rather beneath the roof, a metaphor applicable for those who are under the flesh.
The sparrow cries out over the flesh, unyielding to the commandments of God, nor becoming carnal to succumb under the roof. What you hear whispered, herald on the rooftops (Matthew 10:27). Three birds and three settings exist; one individual may embody all three birds, or three distinct persons might exemplify three birds separately; yet still, these environments signify three classes amongst humanity. The wilderness, the broken walls, and the roof depict but three categories of people.
Let us not overlook what has been articulated regarding the pelican; let us avoid ungrounded assertions while not disregarding the truths found in their literary expressions. It is said that these birds strike their young with their beaks and mourn for three days after inadvertently harming their own in the nest, hoping to regenerate them. This may be true or false; yet if it holds truth, observe how it aligns with Him who restores life through His blood. It resonates with Him for the mother’s flesh brings her offspring to life through her blood; it correlates exceedingly well, for He refers to Himself as a hen brooding her chicks (Matthew 23:37).
Should this be true, the pelican mirrors the essence of Christ’s flesh, from whom we are granted life. Yet, how can it align with Christ that the bird itself brings demise to its young? Might it not agree with this assertion? “I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal” (Deuteronomy 32:39). Would Saul have departed (Acts 9:4) had he not been smitten from above? Or would the preacher have been revived if life had not been restored through His blood? Those who penned these thoughts must consider this: we must ensure our understanding remains securely grounded.