When
St. Augustine abandoned the teaching of rhetoric in Milan to enroll for
baptism, he asked St. Ambrose, the bishop of Milan, what to read in the
Scriptures “to make me readier and fitter to receive so great a grace”? Ambrose
told him to read the prophet Isaiah. Augustine took his advice, but as soon as
he took the book in hand he was perplexed by what he read. “I did not
understand the first passage of the book,” he writes, and he thought “the whole
would be equally obscure.” So Augustine laid it aside, as he explains, “to be
resumed when I had more practice in the Lord’s style of language.”
In
dominico eloquio—it
is an arresting phrase.
Augustine
called Isaiah’s language “the Lord’s style of language,” and he recognized that
if he were to enter the Church he would have to learn this new tongue, hear it
spoken, grow accustomed to its sounds, read the books that use it, learn its
idioms, and finally speak it himself. He had to embark on a journey to acquaint
himself with the mores of a new country. Becoming a Christian meant entering a
strange and often alien world.
There
is a consuetudo loquendi ecclesiastica,
Augustine said—the Church’s customary way of speaking. As an example, he gave
the word “martyr,” the term used by Christians for what the Romans call vir, or
“hero.” Recall the opening words of the Aeneid, the great Roman epic. Arma
virumque cano—“Arms and the man I sing”: of the making of war and of a hero.
The term vir had a venerable history in Latin, and from one perspective it
seemed fitting for the martyrs. But Augustine thought Christians should avoid
it and use a distinctively Christian word for their valor. The word “martyr”
bore overtones that were absent from “hero,” and “hero” carried connotations
that would be offensive to a Christian martyr.
Robert Louis Wilken
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