Cur homo?

A History of the Thesis of Man as a Replacement for Fallen Angels

Vojtech Novotný

• Publisher: Karolinum Press, Charles University
• Year: 2014
• Print ISBN: 9788024625195
• eBook ISBN: 9788024630519
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Religion

Examining, outlining, elucidating, and supplementing the existing body of scholarship concerning the medieval theological supposition that man was created as a replacement for fallen angels, Cur Homo? traces the implications of the question from the first century of the common era to the present day.
           
First introduced by St. Augustine and developed by other church fathers, the concept truly flourished in the twelfth century, when it was decided that man is an "original" being, created for its own sake, for whom God created the world. Vojtech Novotný goes on to trace the idea as it gradually faded over the centuries and, more recently, has been revived in the fields of modern philosophical thought.

III. Crisis: the eleventh and twelfth centuries

In the preceding chapters we have shown how the subject of man as a “replacement angel” originated among the church fathers, namely Augustine and Gregory, and how it then continued its journey through the early Middle Ages. From the ninth century, we were particularly interested in Johannes Scotus Eriugena, who developed the subject christologically, paying particular attention to the question as to whether the number of men who will return to the heavenly city is equal to the number of angels who fell from it. At the dawn of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, we noted our theme among the circle of contemporaries of St. Anselm, archbishop of Canterbury, and our attention now turns in that direction. We will notice, subsequently, how the question as to whether man was not perhaps created for his own sake – which Anselm introduced in passing, as it were, and to which he gave but a hesitant answer – appeared in the context of other theological enquiries in the school of Laon, which arrived at the opinion that both men and angels were created for their own sake in order that laus perfecta may be offered to God. We will also see how Rupert of Deutz connected the question of the goal of the creation of man (cur homo) with the question of the primary goal of the incarnation of the Word (cur Deus homo) and came to the conclusion that both men and angels were “original” creatures, made for the man Jesus Christ, the incarnate Son of God. Rupert inspired Honorius of Autun, a determined advocate of the idea that man was created for his own sake and will be admitted as such into the heavens: God has, since time immemorial, wished for man’s deification and this is why, not only because of sin, the Son of God became incarnate. We are now at the very heart of our problematics.

1. Anselm of Canterbury

In the previous chapter we saw how our theme arrived in the milieu of St. Anselm of Canterbury (1033–1109). In the context of the exegesis of Eph 1:10 and Luke 2:14 we mentioned Lanfranc of Canterbury (c. 1005–1089), Bruno of Cologne (c. 1030–1101), Hervaeus of Bourg-Dieu (c. 1075–1149/1150) and Hildebert of Lavardin (c. 1056–1133). We can also add Osbern of Canterbury († c. 1090).¹

Our theme appears repeatedly in Anselm’s own work.² There is one brief mention in the context of Mary in Oratio 7, which is yet to be definitively dated.³ More extensive references can be found in De casu diaboli from 1085/1090. In chapter 5, the author asks himself whether the good angels were capable of sin before the fall of the evil angels. He answers in the affirmative, arguing that if the good angels were not capable of sin, they would have remained just by default and would not therefore have deserved God’s grace for what amounted to nothing more than preserving the reason they were unable to lose; for this they could not rightly be called just. If, however, the angels who fell had not sinned, despite being capable of doing so, they would have been better than those whose justness pertained to them simply because they were not capable of sin. From this it would follow either that elect men would be better than the good angels, or that the replacement of the reprobate angels would be imperfect since the men who would assume their places would not be the same as they, the reprobate angels, were to have become.⁴

In chapter 23, Anselm claims that just as it is certain that the evil angel could not have not known he ought to be punished if he sinned, it is also true that he did not necessarily know that he actually would be punished if he sinned. This is because the devil could not, in all his rationality, have known whether the mysterious God would actually do what he could with complete justice do, especially as up to that point no example had yet been given of justice punishing injustice. The unchangeable (certus) number of those created to enjoy God was fixed in advance by such wisdom that there is nothing superfluous in it, since if the number had been diminished it would have become imperfect, but God’s work could not be imperfect in any respect. It does not follow from this, however, that the devil could have known that if he himself fell, God would replace angelic nature with human nature, or would restore each of them individually to that end for which each had been created in itself and not in regard to anything else. This would have been the case if man had already been created; and if he had not yet been created the devil would have been even less able to suppose that if he himself sinned, man would be created to substitute for the nature of another being.⁵

It appears that Anselm takes Augustine’s thesis as fact and integrates it as such into his reflections, and at the same time returns to the perspective of God’s eternal plan. He utilizes it, however, in a different way, and that is in order to better understand the fall of the evil angels. In this context, doubts gradually begin to appear concerning whether man was indeed created as a replacement for another nature, or rather whether each nature was created in some way for itself and was precisely in this manner to participate in the work of redemption. As will become clear, this hesitant idea (which betrays a certain preference of the author) is crucial.

Anselm returns once more to our theme in Cur Deus homo (1094–1098). The three chapters he devotes to it (I,16–18) represent about one seventh of the text; the theme also returns in subsequent chapters (I,19.23; II,6.15.16).⁶ It is clear, therefore, that the subject matter is important to Anselm and not simply “la digression imposée hors son sujet.”⁷ Cur Deus homo starts with the question as to why, and out of what necessity, God became man and, through his death, returned life to the world, despite his being capable of achieving the same result by a different person (angelic or human) or by a simple act of his will.⁸ The answer was to rest on rationes necessariae, the concatenation of which was to cover the whole of Christian faith.

The history of salvation therefore put Anselm in the position of needing to explain why God’s honour, defamed by the fall of the angels, is to be restored by the Son of God becoming man. It was therefore necessary to move from the angels’ sin to man’s redemption, and here Anselm found to hand Augustine’s thesis, which he understood as a kind of axiom: Deum constat proposuisse ut de humana natura quam fecit sine peccato numerum angelorum qui ceciderant restitueret. Even so, he attempted to support this assertion by using a form of argument: part of the universal order that God established (dispositio, universitatis ordo) is the number of citizens, that is, beings of a rational nature, in the heavenly city. It is impossible, after all, to suppose that God could not have known what number would be best, and because he knew it, it is also clear that he created that precise quantity. It is numerus praescitus, praedestinatus, perfectus, integer; it can be neither increased nor diminished. The fallen angels were created as part of this number, since if the opposite had been the case, they would have been created beyond its scope, in excess, and therefore necessarily destined to sin, which is nonsensical.⁹ From this it follows that if they had fallen from this predetermined number by their own fault, then their number had somehow to be restored (restaurandus), otherwise the number of rational beings that had been foreknown as perfect would remain imperfect, which is not possible.¹⁰

The question is from whom the number was to be made up. It could not be from either the fallen angels or the good angels: Anselm had already proved this in De casu diaboli and returned to it briefly in Cur Deus homo.¹¹ Crucial for Anselm was the conclusion that rational nature could be made up only from human nature.¹² For the purposes of his investigation this was a decisive moment as it would help to explain why God became a man.

In order to restore his honour – honour that will brook no deviation from its original intentions – God set his work back on its original course by accepting men into the heavenly city in place of the fallen angels. These ought to have been the same as the good angels but because of their sin they were not, and they therefore needed to attain justification.¹³ But man, permeated by sin, was not capable of this: he could not justify himself and thereby make up the number of heavenly beings even though he was made expressly for this purpose (ad quem complendum factus est homo).¹⁴ It therefore holds that although it is man through whom the heavenly city is to be perfected, this is not possible without man offering to God perfect satisfaction, which he is obliged to do; but of this man is not capable, only God. It therefore follows that God’s intentions cannot be fulfilled without the Son becoming incarnate and justifying men through his death on the cross.¹⁵

In chapter 18, Anselm inserts into his argument a lengthy aside in which he asks whether more men will be justified and admitted into heaven than there were angels who fell. Thus he returned to the idea introduced by Augustine and Gregory and developed by Eriugena, who attempted to think things through in such a way as to support his belief in the final salvation of all people. But Anselm used the idea in a different way: for him it became a means for reflecting upon whether there is any truth in the idea that man was created merely to replace the lost angels. We are therefore now at the very core of the thesis about man as a “replacement angel.” It was a question that occupied Chenu, who within Anslem’s problematic cur Deus homo recognized the question cur homo.

Anselm contended that if the foreknown number of rational beings that are to dwell in blissful contemplation of God corresponded exactly to the number of angels from among which those who fell are to be replenished by men, then man was created only as a replacement for those fallen angels (non sunt homines facti nisi pro restauratione angelorum perditorum). If, however, the intention was to create fewer angels than the foreknown total number of beings, and men were included in greater numbers than was necessary for the simple replenishing of the reprobate angels, then man was made not only for replenishing the depleted number but also in order to perfect an as yet imperfect number (et sic dicemus quia non fuerunt homines facti tantum ad restaurandum numerum imminutum sed etiam ad perficiendum nondum perfectum).¹⁶

It was this second possibility to which Anselm leaned in an argument that was further complicated by the question as to whether everything was created simultaneously (Sir 18:1) or gradually (Gen 1). We will not present here the way in which Anselm progressed his argument, which contains echoes of Augustine and Gregory’s theses, but only the conclusion to which he returned over and over again: that there were more men created for eternal bliss than there were angels who fell. Within this complex argument we can detect the assertion that the perfection of creation (perfectio mundanae creaturae) lies not so much in the number of individuals but rather in the number of natures. It is therefore clear that man was created more in order to complete this aspect of the perfection of creation, which is why we must then assume that human nature was created for its own sake and not only in order to replace individuals of another, angelic nature (quare pro se ipsa ibi facta est, et non solum pro restaurandis individuis alterius naturae): man would have had his place in the heavenly city even if the angels had not fallen.¹⁷

That said, in chapter 19 Anselm returns to his previous interrupted exposition, following it up with his original starting point: Constat Deum proposuisse, ut de hominibus angelos qui ceciderant restauraret. – Certum est.¹⁸ Later, he even added that the very reason man was created was to complete the number of the citizens of heaven.¹⁹

Chronologically, the final reference to our subject appears from a conference Anselm held in Cluny in 1100. Here he suggested that he who aspires to a virtuous life can be of benefit to the angels by completing, from among good people, the depleted number.²⁰

It is clear that Anselm worked with the Augustinian thesis repeatedly, diversely, and over a long period. In Cur Deus homo he considers as pivotal the idea that if God’s honour was first defamed by the sin of the angels, which causally and perhaps chronologically predates the fall of man, this begs the question as to how God’s Son by becoming man can be the very thing that restores this honour. Augustine’s proposition – that God’s original creative intention is achieved by creating man to replace the fallen angels – is used here as a kind of bridge to reflecting upon the redemption of sinful men through the incarnate Word. In De casu diaboli 23 and Cur Deus homo I,18, doubts are carefully introduced as to whether human nature was truly created as a replacement for angelic nature, or whether, rather, it was created for its own sake. Although Anselm leans in this latter direction, ultimately he returns to the traditional position of Augustine.

2. The school of Laon

Chenu noted that while Anselm of Canterbury was developing his theories, the school of Laon was also occupying itself with the question as to whether man was created as a replacement for the fallen angels.²¹ The school’s most renowned representative was Anselm of Laon (c. 1050–1117), erroneously considered to be a student of the archbishop of Canterbury while he was living at Le Bec Abbey, and perhaps correctly assumed to be a student of Bruno of Cologne. From about 1080 he became head of the cathedral school at Laon, which gained great renown during the time of his incumbency alongside his brother Ralph (c. 1060–c. 1133), partly because of its association with William of Champeaux (c. 1070–1121) and a number of other leading personalities of the time.

In works that have been connected with his name, our theme appears particularly in Glossa ordinaria, an interlinear gloss on Scripture penned by Anselm and some of his students.²² Occasions for recalling the ideas of St. Augustine and St. Gregory were the topoi of Luke 15:3–10 (Anselm of Laon or Ralph of Laon),²³ Eph 1:10 (Anselm of Laon [?]),²⁴ and Rev 11:13 (Anselm of Laon or Gilbert de la Porrée [?]),²⁵ which was commented on repeatedly.²⁶ There is no need to lay any great stress on the influence this codification of the patristic thesis in glossa ordinaria had on future exegesis as all of the places noted represent simple echoes of Augustine and Gregory; they bring nothing original, and simply bear witness to the fact that the statements of both fathers were known to the school of Laon.

Other writings connected with the name Anselm of Laon and his school include a number of “sentences,” short writings in which a biblical starting point is developed into a systematic theological thesis. They are contained in the florilegio Liber pancrisis²⁷ and in other collections of sentences.²⁸

A more detailed investig...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Introduction
• I. Origins: the church fathers
• II. Consolidation: the early middle ages
• III. Crisis: the eleventh and twelfth centuries
• IV. Decline: the twelfth and thirteenth centuries
• Conclusion
• Resume
• Bibliography
• Index of proper names