The Grace of Restlessness: Thinking and Living in the Augustinian Way
More than a philosophy, Augustinian thought is a way of being in the world: with a burning heart, an open mind, and feet always on the path toward the love that never passes

“You made us, Lord, for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” How many times have we heard this phrase from Saint Augustine? It summarizes the Augustinians well: walkers of restlessness, tireless seekers, brothers and sisters of the Truth.
Those who follow Augustinian thought do not simply adhere to a particular philosophy or theology. They are those who embrace a way of inhabiting the world. An Augustinian thinks from the wound of desire: that deep desire that is not satisfied by success, admiration, or power, but only by the Love that never passes. Restlessness is, for them, a grace: it prevents them from settling, propels them upward, and makes them pilgrims of the heart.
Saint Augustine was not a saint of easy answers, but of burning questions. His conversion was not a fall from a horse, but a long journey of inner struggle, of mistakes, of searching, of friendships, of losses. And it is this humanity of his that continues to shape the way of thinking of his spiritual children: not with the rigidity of those who believe themselves masters of the truth, but with the humility of those who know that the truth embraces them from within. Therefore, for an Augustinian, thinking is not about accumulating ideas, but about allowing oneself to be transformed by them. It is about entering into the mystery of God with a burning mind and an open heart.
This thinking does not flourish in solitude. It is born in community life. Living with others, sharing the table, bread, prayer, decisions, silences, differences… is not an adornment of his religious vocation, but its vital core. Augustine founded communities not as social experiments, but as laboratories of love. Because he knew—and experienced it firsthand—that no one is saved alone, that truth is sought together, and that love is realized in everyday life. To think like an Augustinian is, therefore, to allow oneself to be formed by others, to know oneself as part of a “we” on the journey toward God.
The Augustinian mind, moreover, thirsts for meaning. Augustinians are challenged by the questions of every age. They are pained by the suffering of the world. They do not take refuge in sacristies, nor do they raise walls of doctrine to protect themselves from the wind. On the contrary: they go out to encounter it. Because if God is in the human heart, then every culture, every face, every story is a theological place. From Hippo to the most forgotten corners of the planet, the Augustinian is a sower of dialogue. They love to study not out of intellectual vanity, but out of a passion for Truth. The word “docere”—to teach—has a profound meaning for them: it is to lead the other toward what they are, and on that journey, to allow oneself to be taught as well.
But all of this, everything—interiority, community, searching, study—only makes sense if there is love. Augustine said it without hesitation: the criterion of Christian life is love. Not theoretical love, but concrete, demanding, tender, and firm at the same time. Therefore, to think like an Augustinian is to love. To love with intelligence, to love with actions, to love with patience, to love even when the other does not respond. Because in love, says Augustine, lies the measure of our spiritual maturity.
In a time like ours, where fragmentation reigns, where freedom is confused with isolation and knowledge with information, Augustinian thought can be a beacon. Not to impose, but to illuminate. Not to win debates, but to build communion. The Augustinian, when he thinks, when he preaches, when he writes, when he remains silent, is saying with his life: “Here is a restless heart that still seeks God.”
And that is our hope. Not the certainty of having arrived, but the joy of continuing to walk. Because the journey, when made with others and with a heart open to God, is already a form of arrival.
Today, providentially, the Church has a Pope who carries that same restlessness in his soul: Leo XIV. An Augustinian, in his heart, in his thoughts, and in his life, he has constantly reminded us, with actions and words, that Christianity is not a closed doctrine, but a living search. His way of pastoring—close, bold, contemplative, and deeply human—is a reflection of that Augustinian tradition that is not afraid of questions, that loves the truth, and that believes in the transforming power of love.