The City of God, Volume I cover
Angelology and the Angelic Fall

The City of God, Volume I

When Rome burned, Augustine answered pagan accusations with a sweeping theology of two cities—divine and earthly—that reframed the meaning of history itself, locating the true City of God not in empire but in the fellowship of souls oriented toward eternal beatitude.

Augustine, of Hippo, Saint · 2014 · 192 min

Augustine examines the specific interpretations of Saturn’s myths. Saturn devouring his children is interpreted as seeds returning to earth; the stone given him instead of Jupiter as seeds buried before ploughing. Augustine finds this unconvincing—if Saturn is seed, he cannot be the cause of seed; covering seed with soil does not save it from being devoured but ensures it will be. The pruning-knife given Saturn is anachronistic, for agriculture did not exist in his reign. Human sacrifices to him are a cruel vanity. These interpretations never reach the true God, who is a living, incorporeal, and unchangeable nature, but end in things corporeal, temporal, mutable, and mortal.

The rites of Ceres are interpreted as referring to corn and the loss and return of Proserpine (fecundity). But the rites of Liber are abominable: in Italy, the male member was worshipped on a car at crossroads, and at Lavinium, an honorable matron was compelled to crown it publicly. Such turpitude cannot lead to eternal life. Neptune’s wives Salacia and Venilia, interpreted as receding and incoming waves, represent one wave, not two—the multiplication of goddesses serves only to multiply demons for the soul’s prostitution.

The earth goddesses present further confusion. The earth is Tellus, but also Juno, Mater Magna, Ceres, Proserpine, Vesta, Tellumo, Altor, and Rusor. Varro attempts to reduce these to one goddess with many names, yet they are worshipped as many. The Galli, mutilated priests of the Great Mother, practice a cruel abomination. Porphyry’s interpretation—that Atys signifies flowers that fall before fruit appears—fails, for the genitalia do not fall naturally but are torn away, resulting in sterility. The Great Mother’s rites surpass even Jupiter’s licentiousness in cruelty, for they mutilate men rather than merely dishonoring them.

Augustine condemns the entire physical theology. Even if these gods were parts of the world, worshipping the world or its parts is not worshipping the true God. If one worships the true God with obscene rites, one sins in the mode of worship; if one worships a creature with such rites, one sins doubly. Varro’s attempt to refer these gods to natural reasons fails because the rites themselves are so foul that no natural reason can justify them. The whole civil theology is occupied in inventing means for attracting wicked and impure spirits, who visit senseless images and take possession of stupid hearts.

The true origin, Augustine argues, is demonic. He recounts the story of Numa Pompilius, who wrote books containing the true causes of the sacred rites. When these books were discovered by a ploughman on the Janiculum and brought to the praetor, the senate, having read the causes, ordered them burned. They preferred the error arising from ignorance to the disturbance that knowledge would cause. Numa had learned these rites through hydromancy—necromancy—consulting demons who appeared in the water. The demons taught him foul rites, and the causes were so abominable that the senate, despite their reverence for ancestral tradition, could not bear to have them known.

This historical account provides definitive proof that the physical interpretations are mere fictions. If Numa’s books had contained noble natural reasons, the senate would never have burned them. The fact that the Roman fathers, committed to their religious institutions, deemed it necessary to destroy these books rather than allow their contents to be known demonstrates that the true causes of the rites were not the operations of nature but the abominable instructions of demons. Numa himself, lacking any prophet of God or holy angel to guide him, had recourse to hydromancy, a form of divination introduced from the Persians, to see the images of the gods—or rather, the appearances whereby demons made sport of him—in the water. Through this necromantic art, he learned the sacred rites which he instituted while concealing their causes. He buried the books in his tomb, fearing to teach their infamous contents to others, yet also afraid to destroy them and enrage the demons. The senate’s decision to burn them reveals that even the pagan state recognized the peril of these demonic secrets, judging that the error of ignorance was more tolerable than the disturbance of knowing the truth about their gods. Thus the entire civil theology is unmasked not as a philosophy of nature, but as a system of superstition derived from commerce with unclean spirits.

In conclusion, Augustine contrasts this fragmented, immoral, demon-inspired worship with the true religion. All the functions attributed to the many gods—beginnings, causes, seeds, speech, war, fire, water, the luminaries, life, sensation—belong to the one true God, the Creator of heaven and earth, who is not a part of the world but its Maker. This God grants eternal life not through obscene rites but through His Son, Jesus Christ. The mystery of eternal life was foretold from the beginning, announced through angels, proclaimed by the Hebrew prophets, and fulfilled in Christ, who liberates humanity from the dominion of demons. The true God, who made heaven and earth, created every soul and every body, and governs all things while allowing them to exercise their own proper movements. Though they can be nothing without Him, they are not what He is. He accomplishes many things through angels, but only from Himself does He beatify angels. So also, though He sends angels to serve human needs, He does not beatify humanity through any good inherent in angels, but through Himself, as He does the angels themselves.

Beyond the common benefits of nature bestowed upon all humanity, the true God offers a special manifestation of love reserved for the good. While we can never adequately thank Him for existence, for life itself, or for the rational minds enabling us to seek Him, our greatest gratitude is due for the fact that He did not abandon us in our sins. Though we were blinded by love of darkness and averse to His light, He sent His own Word, His only Son, to assume our flesh. Through His birth and suffering, He demonstrated the immense value God places upon humanity, and by His unique sacrifice He purified us from all sins. By the shedding of love in our hearts through His Spirit, we are enabled to surmount all difficulties and enter into eternal rest, finding ineffable sweetness in the contemplation of God Himself.

This mystery of eternal life was not absent in past ages but was always present, announced through signs and sacraments suited to the times. From the beginning of the human race, angels revealed it to those chosen to receive it. The Hebrew people were gathered into a commonwealth to serve as custodians of this mystery. Within that nation, the events surrounding Christ’s advent were foretold—sometimes by prophets who understood their own words, and sometimes by those who did not. Later, this people was dispersed among the nations to bear witness to the Scriptures containing the promise of salvation. The prophecies, the moral precepts, and even the ritual observances—the priesthood, the temple, the sacrifices, and the ceremonies—all prefigured and foretold the realities which believers in Christ now see fulfilled, or behold in process of fulfillment, or await with confident hope.

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