Pope Leo XIV, addressing the participants of a seminar sponsored by the Pontifical Academy of Theology, commented that a theology of wisdom is a synthesis of scientific rigor and a passion for history. This theological model was developed by the great Fathers and Masters of antiquity, including Saint Augustine, whose theology was the fruit of his experience and living relationship with God, even before his baptism, when he knew himself to be guided in the depths of his heart by the unchanging light of the divine presence (cf. Message of September 13, 2025). Saint Augustine expresses many of these experiences in his dense and beautiful book, The Confessions, to whose pages I have returned, encouraged by this suggestion from the Holy Father and with the help of Saint John Paul II, who wrote the Apostolic Letter Augustinum Hipponensem (1986), on the occasion of the 1600th anniversary of the Conversion of Saint Augustine (1987). A text worth reading and meditating upon.

At the age of 19, reading Cicero’s Hortensius (a book now lost) led young Augustine to “ardently desire immortal wisdom with incredible ardor of heart” (Confessions, 3, 4, 7). A keen intellect and a burning heart distinguish Saint Augustine’s life. For him, truth is an encounter that summons him and puts his heart and soul on the line, both head and heart, mind and passion. He doesn’t sit in the stands commentating on the game; he is a player on the field.

He soon realized “that it is one thing to know the goal, and quite another to reach it. To find the necessary strength and path, I threw myself,” he writes, “with the greatest eagerness upon the venerable Scripture of your Spirit, and above all upon the Apostle Paul” (John Paul II, Augustinum Hipponensem). This assertion of Saint Augustine is familiar to us. We see and know what we must do each day, in the short, medium, or long term. The young student experiences it when he begins his professional training. Entering a school is only the beginning. There is a long stretch to go. The professional degree is the culmination of that effort. The adventure of the Christian life follows the same itinerary: to seek, to find, to associate with, to love Christ and, through Him, to love one’s neighbor. This was the path of Augustine, accompanied by Saint Paul and the grace of God, knowing, moreover, that “he who created you without you will not justify you without you, for he created someone who did not know it, but he does not justify someone who does not want it.”

In his restless search and in his dialogue with God, Saint Augustine turns to God, saying: “Where were you then, and how far from me? I was wandering far from you… and you, on the contrary, were deeper within me than the deepest part of myself and higher than the highest part of myself”; “You were with me, but I was not with you.” And once again: “You were before me, but I had distanced myself from myself and did not know how to find myself. How much more did I not know how to find you.” This Augustinian reflection is clarified by Saint John Paul II, who points out that “whoever does not find himself does not find God, because God is deep within each one of us” (Saint John Paul II, op. cit.).

To know you, Lord; to know me, as Saint Augustine would say, is the great task of life. Saint John Paul II insisted that it is Jesus Christ who reveals to the human being the full depth and height of his being. When we lose our inner compass and wander aimlessly, each step is like hitting a piñata while blindfolded. For a moment of play, it’s fine and fun, but it’s not so when what’s at stake is the whole picture of one’s life: each stitch of thread requires a purpose; when meaning is lacking, we only have threads piled up without any plot. The result is often pure restlessness, which only turns into serenity and fulfillment when God extends a lifeline to us, offering us His Heart so that our hearts may rest in His.