Book XI

Augustine explains that although God's omniscience makes his words unnecessary for God's knowledge, he speaks to stir devotion in himself and his readers toward God's greatness and mercy.

Augustine frames his confession as opening his affections to God—his miseries and God's mercies—so that God might liberate him from wretchedness and make him blessed in God.

Augustine acknowledges the inadequacy of human speech and writing to fully articulate God's exhortations, terrors, comforts, and guidances that led him to preach and dispense sacraments.

Augustine prays that his lips and thoughts be purified from rashness and lies, and that Scripture become his delight while he seeks divine truth without self-deception.

Augustine declares that his desire is not for earthly wealth, status, or bodily pleasures, but for understanding God's law and the mysteries of divine creation.

Augustine reflects that even if Moses were present, the mere hearing of his words would not transmit truth; rather, an internal, wordless communication with Truth itself is required for understanding.

Augustine argues that the changing, varied nature of heaven and earth proclaims they were created, since whatever truly exists without being made has nothing new in it.

Augustine contrasts human artifice, which shapes pre-existing matter according to the mind's discretion, with God's creation, which requires no prior material or location.

Augustine poses the problem that God's temporal words (like the voice from the cloud) are fleeting and successive, yet they supposedly express God's eternal Word; this seems to require a prior corporeal creature to give voice to time.

Augustine resolves that God's true Word is eternal and simultaneous, not successive; all things are spoken eternally and all at once, not one after another, otherwise God would be subject to time and change.

Augustine explains that when contingent things begin and cease to be, this occurs according to God's eternal knowledge in the Word (the Beginning); things originate in the eternal Reason without disturbance to God's unchangeable nature.

Augustine identifies Christ as the Beginning, the Word made flesh, through whom truth is taught; he then experiences a moment of mystical apprehension where Wisdom itself pierces his consciousness.

Augustine presents the classical heretical objection that if God was inactive before creation, why didn't he remain inactive forever; and if a new will arose in God, how can God be eternal?

Augustine diagnoses the objectors' error as inability to comprehend eternity; their unstable hearts flutter between past and future, unable to see how eternity stands still while all times flow from it.

Augustine answers that 'before creation' is meaningless because time itself is created; there was no time in which God was inactive, so the question itself is based on a logical error.

Augustine refutes the notion that God delayed creation through innumerable ages, since all ages are themselves creatures of God; time cannot pass before time is made.

Augustine asserts that God does not precede time as one moment before another, but precedes all times by the sublimity of his ever-present eternity; God's years stand together without succession or departure.

Augustine identifies the fundamental paradox: we speak of time familiarly and understand it when heard, yet cannot readily explain what it is; this is Augustine's famous 'if no one asks me, I know' formulation.

Augustine argues that if time has three modes—past, future, present—and past is no longer while future is not yet, then only the present could exist; but the present lacks space and immediately becomes past.

Augustine observes that we speak of long and short times, yet past and future are not; so when can they have been long? Only when present, but once past they cease to be long.

Augustine demonstrates by reduction that a present century cannot be long because most of it is future or past; even a present year, day, or hour fails to be truly present; time shrinks to an indivisible instant.

Augustine asks rhetorically whether long time exists in the future (not yet being long), the past (no longer being long), or the present (having no space); all seem to fail.

Augustine notes that we do perceive and measure time intervals while they pass; yet once time is past or future, it cannot be measured because it is not.

Augustine asks whether tradition is correct that three times exist (past, present, future) or whether only the present truly exists, with past and future being merely mental impressions.

Augustine proposes that past and future exist only as impressions in memory and expectation respectively; whether as facts or merely as mental images, they are perceivable as present mental states.

Augustine argues that foreknowledge of future events occurs through perceiving present causes or signs; the prophet sees the future not as it is (for it is not yet) but through its present signs.

Augustine poses the mystery of how God, to whom nothing is future, teaches prophets about things to come; God must teach present realities, not non-existent futures.

Augustine concludes that there are three times—a present of things past (memory), a present of things present (sight), and a present of things future (expectation)—but these exist in the soul, not elsewhere.

Augustine restates that we measure time by perceiving intervals as they pass; we cannot measure what does not exist (the past and future), yet we do measure.

Augustine describes time's passage as flowing from what does not yet exist (future), through what has no space (present), into what no longer exists (past), yet we measure it in some space.

Augustine prays passionately for God to reveal the intricate enigma of time; he emphasizes that though time remains mysterious, he lives and speaks within it.

Augustine argues against the Aristotelian definition that time is the motion of heavenly bodies; he shows that various motions can be measured by time, implying time is distinct from motion itself.

Augustine asks what enables us to measure time and compare motions temporally; he explores whether time is defined by the motion of the sun or by the duration in which motion occurs.

Augustine concludes that time seems to be a certain extension, though he admits uncertainty; he distinguishes this from motion, which is one thing, but time by which we measure motion is another.

Augustine refines his position: bodies are moved in time (as he accepts), but the motion of a body itself is not time; we measure the duration of motion separately from the motion itself.

Augustine confesses the paradox that he genuinely measures times yet cannot explain what time is; he knows he speaks in time yet cannot express this knowledge.

Augustine moves toward resolution: time is measured in the mind; impressions left by passing things remain present, and the mind measures these impressions, not the things themselves.

Augustine illustrates that when measuring silence, the mind projects the duration of an imagined voice; the mind gauges temporal intervals through thought rather than external sounds.

Augustine describes that in any extended action, expectation reaches forward over what will come, memory extends over what has passed, and attention bridges them, conveying the future into the past.

Augustine reflects that his life is a distraction scattered across many things and times; through Christ the Mediator, he seeks to be recollected and extended not to passing things but to eternal things.

Augustine resolves to become firm in God's truth and will not entertain penal questions like 'what did God do before creation'; he instructs such questioners that 'never' is nonsensical without time.

Augustine concludes that God knows all things past and future not by succession like a singer knowing a psalm, but eternally and unchangeably; God's knowledge is far more wonderful and mysterious than human temporal knowledge.