Saint Augustine on Love and Fear

A commentary on "there is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear" [1Jh. 4:18]

Then what say we of him that has begun to fear the day of judgment? If charity in him were perfect, he would not fear. For perfect charity would make perfect righteousness, and he would have nothing to fear: nay rather he would have something to desire; that iniquity may pass away, and God's kingdom come. So then, there is no fear in charity. But in what charity? Not in charity begun: in what then? But perfect charity, says he, casts out fear. Then let fear make the beginning, because the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. 

Fear, so to say, prepares a place for charity. But when once charity has begun to inhabit, the fear which prepared the place for it is cast out. For in proportion as this increases, that decreases: and the more this comes to be within, is the fear cast out. Greater charity, less fear; less charity, greater fear. But if no fear, there is no way for charity to come in. 

As we see in sewing, the thread is introduced by means of the bristle; the bristle first enters, but except it come out the thread does not come into its place: so fear first occupies the mind, but the fear does not remain there, because it enters only in order to introduce charity. When once there is the sense of security in the mind, what joy have we both in this world and in the world to come! 

Even in this world, who shall hurt us, being full of charity? See how the apostle exults concerning this very charity: Who shall separate us from the charity of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? Romans 8:35 And Peter says: And who is he that will harm you, if you be followers of that which is good?— There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear: because fear has torment. 1 Peter 3:13 The consciousness of sins torments the heart: justification has not yet taken place. There is that in it which itches, which pricks. 

Accordingly in the Psalm what says he concerning this same perfection of righteousness? You have turned for me my mourning into joy: You have put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness; to the end that my glory may sing to you, and that I be not pricked. What is this, That I be not pricked? That there be not that which shall goad my conscience. Fear does goad: but fear not: charity enters in, and she heals the wound that fear inflicts. 

The fear of God so wounds as does the leech's knife; it takes away the rottenness, and seems to make the wound greater. Behold, when the rottenness was in the body, the wound was less, but perilous: then comes the knife; the wound smarted less than it smarts now while the leech is cutting it. It smarts more while he is operating upon it than it would if it were not operated upon; it smarts more under the healing operation, but only that it may never smart when the healing is effected. 

Then let fear occupy your heart, that it may bring in charity; let the cicatrice succeed to the leech's knife. He is such an Healer, that the cicatrices do not even appear: only put yourself under His hand. For if you be without fear, you can not be justified. It is a sentence pronounced by the Scriptures; For he that is without fear, cannot be justified. Sirach 1:28 Needs then must fear first enter in, that by it charity may come. Fear is the healing operation: charity, the sound condition. But he that fears is not made perfect in love. Why? Because fear has torment; just as the cutting of the surgeon's knife has torment. 

But there is another sentence, which seems contrary to this if it have not one that understands. Namely, it is said in a certain place of the Psalms, The fear of the Lord is chaste, enduring forever. He shows us an eternal fear, but a chaste. But if he there shows us an eternal fear, does this epistle perchance contradict him, when it says, There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear? 

Let us interrogate both utterances of God. One is the Spirit, though the books two, though the mouths two, though the tongues two. For this is said by the mouth of John, that by the mouth of David: but think not that the Spirit is more than one. If one breath fills two pipes [of the double-flute], cannot one Spirit fill two hearts, move two tongues? But if two pipes filled by one breathing sound in unison, can two tongues filled with the Spirit or Breathing of God make a dissonance? There is then an unison there, there is a harmony, only it requires one that can hear. 

Behold, this Spirit of God has breathed into and filled two hearts, has moved two tongues: and we have heard from the one tongue, There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear; we have heard from the other, The fear of the Lord is chaste, enduring for ever. How is this? The notes seem to jar. Not so: rouse your ears: mark the melody. It is not without cause that in the one place there is added that word, chaste, in the other it is not added: but because there is one fear which is called chaste, and there is another fear which is not called chaste. Let us mark the difference between these two fears, and so understand the harmony of the flutes. 

How are we to understand, or how to distinguish? Mark, my beloved. There are men who fear God, lest they be cast into hell, lest haply they burn with the devil in everlasting fire. This is the fear which introduces charity: but it comes that it may depart. For if you as yet fear God because of punishments, not yet do you love Him whom you in such sort fear. You do not desire the good things, but are afraid of the evil things. Yet because you are afraid of the evil things, you correct yourself and beginnest to desire the good things. 

When once you have begun to desire the good, there shall be in you the chaste fear. What is the chaste fear? The fear lest you lose the good things themselves. Mark! It is one thing to fear God lest He cast you into hell with the devil, and another thing to fear God lest He forsake you. The fear by which you fear lest you be cast into hell with the devil, is not yet chaste; for it comes not from the love of God, but from the fear of punishment: but when you fear God lest His presence forsake you, you embrace Him, you long to enjoy God Himself. 

One cannot better explain the difference between these two fears, the one which charity casts out, the other chaste, which endures for ever, than by putting the case of two married women, one of whom, you may suppose, is willing to commit adultery, delights in wickedness, only fears lest she be condemned by her husband. She fears her husband: but because she yet loves wickedness, that is the reason why she fears her husband. To this woman, the presence of her husband is not grateful but burdensome; and if it chance she live wickedly, she fears her husband, lest he should come. Such are they that fear the coming of the day of judgment. Put the case that the other loves her husband, that she feels that she owes him chaste embraces, that she stains herself with no uncleanness of adultery; she wishes for the presence of her husband. 

And how are these two fears distinguished? The one woman fears, the other also fears. Question them: they seem to make one answer: question the one, Do you fear your husband? She answers, I do. Question the other, whether she fears her husband; she answers, I do fear him. The voice is one, the mind diverse. Now then let them be questioned, Why? The one says, I fear my husband, lest he should come: the other says, I fear my husband, lest he depart from me. The one says, I fear to be condemned: the other, I fear to be forsaken. Let the like have place in the mind of Christians, and you find a fear which love casts out, and another fear, chaste, enduring for ever. 

Let us speak then first to these who fear God, just in the manner of that woman who delights in wickedness; namely, she fears her husband lest he condemn her; to such let us first speak. O soul, which fearest God lest He condemn you, just as the woman fears, who delights in wickedness: fears her husband, lest she be condemned by her husband: as you are displeased at this woman, so be displeased at yourself. If perchance you have a wife, would you have your wife fear you thus, that she be not condemned by you? That delighting in wickedness, she should be repressed only by the weight of the fear of you, not by the condemnation of her iniquity? You would have her chaste, that she may love you, not that she may fear you. Show yourself such to God, as you would have your wife be to you. 

And if you have not yet a wife, and wishest to have one, you would have her such. And yet what are we saying, brethren? That woman, whose fear of her husband is to be condemned by her husband, perhaps does not commit adultery, lest by some means or other it come to her husband's knowledge, and he deprive her of this temporal light of life: now the husband can be deceived and kept in ignorance; for he is but human, as she is who can deceive him. She fears him, from whose eyes she can be hid: and do you not fear the face ever upon you of your Husband? The countenance of the Lord is against them that do evil. She catches at her husband's absence, and haply is incited by the delight of adultery; and yet she says to herself, I will not do it: he indeed is absent, but it is hard to keep it from coming in some way to his knowledge. She restrains herself, lest it come to the knowledge of a mortal man, one who, it is also possible, may never know it, who, it is also possible, may be deceived, so that he shall esteem a bad woman to be good, esteem her to be chaste who is an adulteress: and do you not fear the eyes of Him whom no man can deceive? thou not fear the presence of Him who cannot be turned away from you? 

Pray God to look upon you, and to turn His face away from your sins; Turn away Your face from my sins. But whereby do you merit that He should turn away His face from your sins, if you turn not away your own face from your sins? For the same voice says in the Psalm: For I acknowledge my iniquity, and my sin is ever before me. Acknowledge, and He forgives. We have addressed that soul which has as yet the fear which endures not for ever, but which love shuts out and casts forth: let us address that also which has now the fear which is chaste, enduring for ever. Shall we find that soul, think you, that we may address it? Think you, is it here in this congregation? Is it, think you, here in this chancel? think you, is it here on earth? It cannot but be, only it is hidden. Now is the winter: within is the greenness in the root. Haply we may get at the ears of that soul. 

But wherever that soul is, oh that I could find it, and instead of its giving ear to me, might myself give ear to it! It should teach me something, rather than learn of me! An holy soul, a soul of fire, and longing for the kingdom of God: that soul, not I address, but God Himself does address, and thus consoles while patiently it endures to live here on earth: You would that I should even now come, and I know that you wish I should even now come: I know what you are, such that without fear you may wait for my advent; I know that is a trouble to you: but do you even longer wait, endure; I come, and come quickly. 

But to the loving soul the time moves slowly. Hear her singing, like a lily as she is from amid the thorns; hear her sighing and saying, I will sing, and will understand in a faultless way: when will you come unto me? But in a faultless way well may she not fear; because perfect love casts out fear. And when He has come to her embrace, still she fears, but in the manner of one that feels secure. What does she fear? She will beware and take heed to herself against her own iniquity, that she sin not again: not lest she be cast into the fire, but lest she be forsaken by Him. And there shall be in in her— what? The chaste fear, enduring for ever. We have heard the two flutes sounding in unison. 

That speaks of fear, and this speaks of fear: but that, of the fear with which the soul fears lest she be condemned; this, of the fear with which the soul fears lest she be forsaken. That is the fear which charity casts out: this, the fear that endures for ever.