Letter 169: 1. If acquaintance with the treatises which specially occupy me, and from which I am unwilling to be turned aside to anything else, is so highly valued by your Holiness, let some one be sent to copy them for you. For I have now finished several of those which had been commenced by me this year before Easter, near the beginning of Lent.

Augustine of HippoEvodius|c. 414 AD|augustine hippo
grief deathhumorillnessimperial politicspelagianismproperty economics
Theological controversy; Travel & mobility; Military conflict

Augustine to Evodius, greetings.

You have asked me a question that I am almost embarrassed to admit I find fascinating: what are angels? What is their nature? Do they have bodies, or are they purely spiritual beings?

The fascination embarrasses me because I have more pressing things to attend to — Donatist disputes, Pelagian controversies, the daily administration of a bishop's court. But the question will not leave me alone, so I will give it what attention I can.

Scripture speaks of angels appearing to human beings — to Abraham at the oaks of Mamre, to the women at the empty tomb, to the shepherds at Bethlehem. In these appearances, they seem to have bodies: they eat, they speak, they are visible. But I do not think they have bodies in the permanent sense that we do. I think they assume bodily form when the need arises and lay it aside when it does not — the way a person might put on a garment for a specific purpose and remove it afterward.

Their essential nature is spiritual — they are minds without matter, wills without flesh. They know God directly, not through the mediation of the senses. They do not learn as we do, by accumulating experience over time. They know what they know immediately, by the light of God's own truth shining in their intellects.

And yet they are not God. They are created beings — the first and highest of created beings, but creatures nonetheless. They can fall, as the devil and his angels did. They can choose, as the faithful angels continue to choose. They are not machines. They are persons — though persons of a kind so different from us that our language struggles to describe them.

Is this merely speculative? Perhaps. But I think the speculation matters, because it reminds us that the universe is larger, stranger, and more populated than our senses suggest. We see a thin slice of reality. The rest is hidden — not absent, but hidden. And one day, the veil will be lifted, and we will see the whole.

Farewell, brother.

Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.

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