Scripture & Theology

Augustine of Hippo’s reading of Genesis 1 in chapter 7 of book XI of his City of God provides a fascinating example of pastorally sensitive theological exegesis. At a time when Christians—particularly Roman Christians—felt as if their once stable world was crumbling and receding into the twilight, Augustine put forth a message of hope. As is evident from the title of this section (”Of the Nature of the First Days, Which are Said to Have Had Morning and Evening, Before There Was a Sun”), to say that Augustine’s exegesis is pastoral and theological is not to say that Augustine was no longer interested in interpretation ad litteram (cf. his Literal Commentary on Genesis, in which he wrestles in detail with how to reconcile scientific and revealed knowledge). Indeed, in this section Augustine sets out to answer the clever question of what “day” could literally mean before the sun was created. In answering this question Augustine is primarily concerned not with the absence of the sun, saying “we cannot understand how it was, and yet must unhesitatingly believe it,” but with what light and temporality have to do with our creaturely existence.

Augustine speculates that the light might have come from the heavenly Jerusalem, which he knew to be eternal and in heaven (Galatians 4:26). Furthermore, he recalls that in 1 Thessalonians 5:5 Christians are referred to as “the children of the light… of the day… not of night, nor of darkness.” Speaking of night, Augustine notes that night is not mentioned in this account of creation. From this, Augustine concludes that night would fall if the Creator were forsaken through love of the creature, but that, in fact, night never falls. Although not capable of bringing about nightfall, the creature can live in a twilight zone of “the knowledge of created things contemplated by themselves,” that is, out of relation to God—a state Augustine describes as “colorless.”

God did not create his creatures to live in the colorless borderland of the evening, but in the glorious light of the breaking dawn “when the creature is drawn to the praise and love of the Creator.” With this language Augustine certainly foreshadows the twilight following the fall and the rising of the glorified Son, but Augustine also has in view the progressive development of creation under the command of the creator. Thus, Augustine provides two comforts to his audience. First, just as God in his activity in the six days of creation moved towards the goal of the Sabbath, so too God is moving creation history to a climactic “seventh day” (note: towards the fulfillment, not the abolition of creation). Whether we see this in the morning light or it is hidden from us in the colorlessness of evening, this providential movement is happening. Second, although the twilight still lingers, the darkness will never come, and in God’s own time he will usher in an eternal morning. Thus, Augustine reminds us that it is both natural and right to yearn for the morning (cf. Ben Harper’s “Morning Yearning”).