In 410, an unexpected event occurred: the capital of the Roman Empire, Rome itself, was sacked. For three days, Alaric and his Visigoths looted and burned the Eternal City. Rome had not suffered such horrors in over 800 years.
These events elicited diverse reactions, from lamentations to indifference. Perhaps the most famous example of the former was from St. Jerome (c. 347-c. 419), who wrote concerning the sack: “My voice sticks in my throat; and, as I dictate, sobs choke my utterance. The city which had taken the whole world was itself taken.”
St. Augustine (354-430), on the other hand, explained dispassionately why God allowed the Christian empire to succumb to destruction. His famous text, The City of God, prioritized the heavenly city over the temporal one. Essentially, according to Augustine, it mattered not whether Rome fell, because history is filled with passing empires.
So who was right—Jerome or Augustine? Did the sack of Rome warrant sobs or shrugs? To settle the dispute, into the ring stepped Augustine’s dog.
Full disclosure: the up-and-coming Spanish priest Paulus Orosius (385-420) was not actually a dog, nor was he the property of St. Augustine. Rather, he considered himself a guard dog for God and his Church. As he once wrote, “perceiving the difference between their masters and strangers,” dogs “do not hate those they attack, but rather are full of zeal for those they love.”
When his homeland came under threat by the Vandals, around 411, Orosius fled to North Africa. Once there, he was active in theological disputes against Priscillian and Origen. His rhetoric and zeal brought close friendship with Augustine, and he became a student of the legendary Church Father.
Augustine sent Orosius to work with another legend, Jerome, in Jerusalem. There, they both participated in the Synod of Jerusalem in 415 and denounced Pelagianism as a heresy. Immediately afterward, Orosius was sent back to Spain, bearing the newly rediscovered relics of the proto-deacon St. Stephen.
While on his way back, Orosius returned to his mentor, Augustine, and continued the fight against Pelagianism. It’s not known for sure, but it’s believed that Orosius was tasked at that time to write his most famous and influential text.
What Augustine wanted was a response to the then-commonly held notion that the Roman Empire was collapsing because it had embraced Christianity. What he got, courtesy of Orosius, was Histories Against the Pagans—a literal big deal. The text features seven books and is the first complete Christian account of history, from the Genesis creation narrative to the sack of Rome in 410. Orosius went into painstaking detail describing wars and tragedies, prioritizing Rome but also touching on Babylon, Greece, and Carthage. He predominantly used non-Christian sources and rarely referenced Holy Scripture.
Orosius sets himself apart from other famous historians of his era with his focus on the consequences of celebrated triumphs. He was not above sarcasm in checking those who delighted in the fruits of devastating wars! In describing the Trojan War, for example, he stated,
O, what times most worthy to remember with nostalgia! What days of peaceful serenity they set before us to look back on from our times of darkness! Days when in the blink of an eye, three wars waged by three neighbouring kings snatched 9,000,000 men from the heart of a single kingdom!
As his Histories show, Orosius fell in more with his mentor, Augustine: Rome’s fall was tragic, but not the end of the world. The city was important in spreading the Christian message, but if it turned away from God, it was by no means above punishment (see Prov. 3:12; Heb. 12:6).
Why does this matter? Well, Histories Against the Pagans was extremely influential and used as an authoritative source for a long time. Shortly after its publication, Pope Gelasius referred to it as “an indispensable work.” For example, Orosius’s meticulous attention to geography set a precedent for historical works going forward.
So his Histories was important and influential then . . . but what about now? Well, Orosius was fighting a public sentiment that survives today. The pagans of the fifth century blamed the Church for the fall of the Roman Empire—and how many times do we hear or read today about how the Church is responsible for all our modern misfortunes? Isn’t the Church to blame, too, for today’s various “isms” relating to race, sex, and general inequality?
What many seem loath to admit is that the Church was, is, and always will be the driving force for good. The Church has always cared for the poor, fought slavery, and worked to enshrine respect for the dignity of the human person. Scripture says, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal. 3:28). That is why the most inclusive symbol is the cross, for whether one is the richest or the poorest, no one is excluded from the freedom Christ offers (John 8:31-36).
The Church carries on its salvific mission through the ages. There have certainly been failures by individuals, but these cannot blot out the overwhelming good the Church has fought for.
The world needs a reminder of the good that Jesus and his Church brought in history and continue to bring. That is why Orosius is important for us today. Rather than rolling over for the culture and letting the pre-Christian sentiment of his era dominate, he chose to remind society of how Jesus and the Church changed Rome and the world for the better. Catholics today, pressed on all sides by post-Christian animus, should draw inspiration from this “dog’s” zeal and ferocity in defending God and the Church.