Celsus, a 2nd-century Greek philosopher, stands as one of the earliest and most incisive critics of Christianity. His work, On the True Doctrine (c. 175 CE), offers a sophisticated critique of the burgeoning faith during a time of significant cultural and religious upheaval. A staunch defender of traditional Greco-Roman polytheism, Celsus viewed Christianity as a threat to social harmony and intellectual rigor. Preserved largely through the Christian theologian Origen’s rebuttal, Contra Celsum, Celsus’ treatise remains an invaluable artifact of interfaith discourse, providing a lens into the tensions between established traditions and the nascent Christian movement.
Below are excerpts from Celsus On the True Doctrine, A Discourse Against the Christians translated by R. Joseph Hoffman.
Thoughts on Idols
Celsus dismissed the Christian critique of idol worship as neither novel nor profound, arguing that the rejection of idols was already present in other cultures and philosophies. He writes, “As Herodotus shows, the Persians long before our time held the view that things made with human hands cannot be regarded as gods.” Celsus frames idols not as gods themselves but as symbols of divine powers, emphasizing their cultural and representational value. This nuanced view of idolatry underscores his belief that Christians misrepresented Greco-Roman worship practices in their polemics.
Celsus’ commentary reveals a deep understanding of symbolic worship, contrasting it with the Christian literalism he found reductive. For him, the rejection of idols was less about spiritual advancement and more about Christians aligning themselves with the practices of barbarians, such as the Scythians or the Seres, who lacked a sophisticated sense of divine representation.
As Herodotus shows, the Persians long before our time held the view that things made with human hands cannot be regarded as gods. Indeed, it is preposterous that the work of a craftsman (often the worst sort of person!) should be considered a god. The wise Heracleitus says that “those who worship images as gods are as foolish as men who talk to the walls.” p.53
They say they detest altars and images; so do the Scythians; so do the nomads of Libya; so do the Seres, who don’t believe in God at all; and so do many everywhere, who have no use for what is right. Herodotus tells us that the Persians take the same view: “The Persians,” he relates, “do not consider it legal to establish altars and images and temples; and they think people who establish them are stupid. p.114
The Hypocrisy of Chrisitan Accusation of Idol Worship Against Romans
Celsus lambasts what he perceives as Christian hypocrisy, noting that while Christians deride idols, they elevate a man—Jesus—to divine status. He scornfully remarks, “You will be a laughingstock so long as you repeat the blasphemy that the gods of other men are idols, while you brazenly worship as God a man whose life was wretched and who died in disgraceful circumstances.”
This critique cuts to the heart of his disdain for Christianity: the perceived absurdity of worshiping a mortal while claiming monotheistic purity. For Celsus, the Christian veneration of Jesus was not only inconsistent but also an affront to the grandeur of a philosophical understanding of the divine. He accuses Christians of failing to appreciate the broader metaphysical order, which encompassed gods, heroes, and demons as part of a harmonious hierarchy.
You will be a laughingstock so long as you repeat the blasphemy that the gods of other men are idols, while you brazenly worship as God a man whose life was wretched, who is known to have died (in disgraceful circumstances), and who, so you teach, is the very model of the God we should look to as our Father. p.110
Now, if the Christians worshiped only one God they might have reason on their side. But as a matter of fact they worship a man who appeared only recently. They do not consider what they are doing a breach of monotheism; rather, they think it perfectly consistent to worship the great God and to worship his servant as God. And their worship of this Jesus is the more outrageous because they refuse to listen to any talk about God, the father of all, unless it includes some reference to Jesus: Tell them that Jesus, the author of the Christian insurrection, was not his son, and they will not listen to you. And when they call him Son of God, they are not really paying homage to God, rather, they are attempting to exalt Jesus to the heights. p.116
If, as they maintain, the idols are nothing, then there is nothing to prevent them from public—minded duties such as the festival. On the other hand, if the idols are existent beings—demons of some sort, then they must belong to God himself, as he created all that exists; and if they occupy this position, it is a Christian’s duty to pay them homage, to believe in them, sacrifice to them, and pray to them for the general good of the people. p.117
Silly as they are, one finds them standing next to a statue of Zeus or Apollo or some other god, and shouting, “See here: I blaspheme it and strike it, but it is powerless against me for I am a Christian!” Does this good Christian fellow not see that I might do the same without fear of reprisal to an image of his god? And further: those who do stand next to your little god are hardly secure! You are banished from land and sea, bound and punished for your devotion to [your Christian demon] and taken away to be crucified. Where then is your God’s vengeance on his persecutors? Protection indeed! p.118-119
Honoring gods is Honoring God
Celsus argued for a polytheistic vision of the cosmos in which honoring the gods was an extension of honoring the supreme deity. He asserts, “If all of nature operates according to the will of God… then it must also be accepted that angels, demons, and heroes are subject to the will of the great God who rules over all.” In his view, the multiplicity of gods reflected the richness and diversity of divine governance.
This theological inclusivity contrasts sharply with the exclusivity of Christian monotheism. Celsus’ argument positions polytheistic worship as a more holistic and reverent approach to divinity, seeing no contradiction in revering individual gods as manifestations of the supreme order. His critique illuminates a broader cultural tension: the Christian rejection of the divine multiplicity that had underpinned Greco-Roman religious identity for centuries.
One thing about the Jews is worth noting: although they worship the heavens and the angels in it, yet they reject paying homage to its most sacred parts, namely the sun, moon, and the other stars—both fixed and mobile. p.85
Moreover, why should we not worship gods? I mean, if it is accepted that all of nature— everything in the world—operates according to the will of God and that nothing works contrary to his purposes, then it must also be accepted that the angels, the demons, heroes—everything in the universe—are subject to the will of the great God who rules over all. Over each sphere there is a being charged with the task of governance and worthy to have power, at least the power allotted it for carrying out its task. This being the case, it would be ap- appropriate for each man who worships God also to honor the being who exercises his allotted responsibilities at God’s pleasure, since that being must have been licensed to do what he does by God. p.116
Thus it cannot be irrational to worship several gods; and the man who does so will naturally be worshiping some gods who derive from that greatest God, and will be loved for it. A man who honors what belongs to God does not offend God, since all belongs to him. p.116
Christians Target the Feeble-Minded
A recurring theme in Celsus’ polemic is his charge that Christianity appeals primarily to the uneducated and the socially marginalized. He describes Christian teachers as “charlatans” who prey on the gullible, avoiding intellectuals and educated individuals. He writes, “They pitch their message to the uneducated, the slaves, and the ignorant—those wholly without wisdom—and then convince them that their newfound superstition is divine wisdom.”
This critique highlights the egalitarian nature of early Christianity, which sought converts among all strata of society, including those dismissed by the Greco-Roman elite with a high emphasis on women. Celsus’ disdain reveals his allegiance to a hierarchical worldview in which philosophical and religious truths were reserved for the educated few, a stark contrast to Christianity’s universal appeal.
Just as the charlatans of the cults take advantage of a simpleton’s lack of education to lead him around by the nose, so too with the Christian teachers: they do not want to give or to receive reasons for what they believe. Their favorite expressions are “Do not ask questions, just believe!” and: “Your faith will save you!” “The wisdom of this world,” they say, “is evil; to be simple is to be good.”6 If only they would undertake to answer my question which I do not ask as one who is trying to understand their beliefs (there being little to understand!) But they refuse to answer, and indeed discourage asking questions of any sort. p.54
Christians claim that they alone know the right way to live, and that if only the children will believe them, they will be happy and their homes will be happy as well. Now if, as they are speaking thus to the children, they happen to see a schoolteacher corning along, some intelligent person, or even the father of one of the children, these Chris- tians flee in all directions, or at least the more cautious of them. p.73
And how can one overlook the fact that Christian teachers are only happy with stupid pupils—indeed scout about for the slow-witted. A teacher of the Christian faith is a charlatan who promises to restore sick bodies to health, but discourages his patients from seeing a first-class physician with a real remedy for fear superior skill and training will show him up. p.75
They pitch their message to the uneducated, the slaves, and the ignorant—those wholly without wisdom—and then convince them that the wisdom they possess in their newfound superstition is divine—the wisdom of God himself! This may be seen in the fact that they run away at a gallop from people of learning and culture—people whom they cannot deceive—and trap illiterate people instead. p.93-94
Distortion of Jesus’ Message
Celsus accuses the Christian disciples of manipulating the narrative of Jesus to suit their theological agenda. He writes, “The writings of the disciples contain only those facts about Jesus that put a flattering face on the events of his life.” This claim reflects his broader argument that the Christian scriptures were inconsistent and untrustworthy, designed to obscure rather than reveal the truth.
For Celsus, the depiction of Jesus as simultaneously mortal and divine was inherently contradictory. He questions the coherence of Christian claims, asking, “If he was at some point a dead man, how can he have been immortal?” Such critiques underscore his view that Christianity lacked the intellectual rigor and philosophical depth of Greco-Roman traditions.
But let us not omit this: the writings of the disciples contain only those facts about Jesus that put a flattering face on the events of his life. It is as if someone were saying out of one side of his mouth that a man is righteous, while admitting at the same time that the man is an evildoer; or, put differently, showing a man to be a murderer while saying he is holy; or while saying he is risen, proving him to be dead; and then-above it all-claiming that he predicted it! You admit that Jesus suffered and died (rather than saying, as you might, that he appeared to endure suffering). Yet what evidence do you point to to suggest that he anticipated this suffering? And if he was at some point a dead man, how can he have been immortal? p.62
“It is clear to me that the writings of the Christians are a lie, and that your fables have not been well enough constructed to conceal this monstrous fiction. I have even heard that some of your interpreters, as if they had just come out of a tavern, are onto the inconsistencies and, pen in hand, alter the original writings three, four, and several more times over in order to be able to deny the contradictions in the face of criticism.” p.64
What are we to think of a god so negligent that he not only permitted his son to suffer as cruel a death as this Jesus did, but who allowed the message he was sent to deliver to perish with him? A long time has passed since then, and nothing has changed. p.119
Inconsistency Among Christian Sects
Celsus highlights the internal divisions among Christians, noting the proliferation of sects with conflicting doctrines. He observes, “Christians, it is needless to say, utterly detest each other; they slander each other constantly with the vilest forms of abuse and cannot come to any sort of agreement in their teaching.” This fragmentation, he argues, undermines their claim to possess ultimate truth.
This critique is not merely about theological discord but also about the perceived social instability brought by these divisions. For Celsus, the inability of Christians to present a unified front reflected the inherent weakness and chaos of their movement.
There are Christian sects named after Marcellina,116 Harpocratian Christians who trace themselves to Salome,117 some who follow Mariamne and others who follow Martha,118 and still others who call themselves Marcionites after their leader, Mar- cion. Pretty clearly, some put their faith in one god, others in another; but all in all they walk around in a fog, so evil and murky that it rivals the feasts of Antinous in Egypt. Thus is the extent of their evil and their ignorance. Chris- tians, it is needless to say, utterly detest each other;119 they slander each other constantly with the vilest forms of abuse, and cannot come to any sort of agreement in their teaching. Each sect brands its own, fills the head of its own with deceitful nonsense, and makes perfect little pigs of those it wins over to its side. Like so many sirens they chatter away endlessly and beat their breasts: The world (they say to their shame) is crucified to me, and I to the world. p.91
Accusing Disciples of Denying Jesus
Celsus does not hesitate to criticize what he perceives as a fundamental weakness in the Christian narrative: the failure of Jesus’ own disciples to remain loyal in his hour of greatest need. This critique is rooted in the Gospels themselves, which recount the disciples’ desertion and Peter’s denial of Jesus. For Celsus, this episode is damning evidence against the divinity of Christ. If even his closest followers doubted him, how could the wider world be expected to believe? This argument serves not only as a theological critique but also as a moral one—highlighting the inconsistency and cowardice of those tasked with spreading Jesus’ message.
Celsus’ disdain reveals a broader critique of Christianity’s reliance on weak and fallible human agents to propagate what it claims is divine truth. To him, this reliance undermines the credibility of the faith and reinforces his assertion that Christianity is a movement built on fragile foundations.
Your case is made the harder because not even his disciples believed in him at the time of his humiliation: those who had heard him preach and were taught by him, when they saw he was heading for trouble, did not stick with him. They were neither willing to die for his sake nor to become martyrs for his cause—they even denied they had known him! p.66
Questions about the Divinity of Jesus
Celsus repeatedly questions the plausibility of Jesus’ divinity, focusing on what he sees as contradictions in the Christian portrayal of the Son of God. He mockingly asks, “Does the body of a god need such nourishment?” This rhetorical jab reduces the Incarnation to an absurdity in his eyes, for the idea that a deity would eat, sleep, and suffer like a mortal contradicts the traditional Greco-Roman understanding of divinity as transcendent and unchanging.
He also takes issue with the post-resurrection accounts, writing, “When he was punished, everyone saw; yet risen from the tomb, almost no one.” Celsus argues that Jesus’ selective appearances after his resurrection—primarily to a small, devoted group—raise doubts about the authenticity of the event. If Jesus sought to establish faith, why not make himself visible to all, especially those who doubted?
For Celsus, these inconsistencies highlight what he sees as the incoherence of Christian theology. He accuses the faith of simultaneously claiming divine secrecy and public proclamation, resulting in a narrative riddled with contradictions. His critique calls into question the logic and reliability of the Christian message, framing it as self-refuting.
We even hear of your eating habits. What! Does the body of a god need such nourishment? p.60
When he was in the body, he was disbelieved but preached to everyone; after his resurrection, apparently wanting to establish a strong faith, he chooses to show himself to one woman and a few comrades only. When he was punished, everyone saw; yet risen from the tomb, almost no one. The Christians are fond of saying that Jesus wanted to be unnoticed, and point to places in their sacred books where Jesus enjoins silence on the demons and those he has healed. But again, they contradict themselves, condemning the Jews for failing to recognize the Christ. If he wanted to be unnoticed, why was the voice from heaven heard, declaring him the Son of God? If he did not want to be unnoticed, then why was he punished and executed? At the very least it would seem that he would want his followers to know why he had come to earth. But your Jesus does not let his followers in on his secret, and thus occasions their disbelief. This is not my own guessing: I base what I say on your own writings, which are self-refuting. p.68
Other Deities That Suffered Apotheosis
Celsus dismisses the claim that Jesus’ resurrection and divinity are unique, pointing to parallel stories of apotheosis in other traditions. He asks, “But if apotheosis is the hallmark of divinity, why not rather Asclepias, Dionysus, or Herakles, whose stories are far more ancient?” This argument underscores his belief that Christianity merely co-opted existing motifs and myths, repackaging them for its audience.
By referencing figures like Asclepius and Heracles, who were revered in Greco-Roman culture as deified heroes, Celsus seeks to place Jesus within a broader tradition of human beings elevated to divine status. For Celsus, the Christian claim of uniqueness fails to hold water when juxtaposed with the rich mythological heritage of antiquity. His critique challenges Christians to explain why their story should be considered superior to these older, more established traditions.
But if apotheosis is the hallmark of divinity, why not rather Asclepias, Dionysus, or Herakles, whose stories are far more ancient? p.72
Why Was Jesus Sent Only to Sinners?
One of Celsus’ sharpest criticisms is aimed at Christianity’s focus on sinners and the marginalized. He writes, “What other cult actually invites robbers to become members? Their excuse for all of it is that their god was sent to call sinners: well, fair enough. But what about the righteous?”
This critique reveals a fundamental philosophical difference between Celsus’ worldview and the Christian ethic of grace. For Celsus, elevating the morally unworthy undermines the social order and offends the dignity of religion. He questions why a god would prioritize sinners over the virtuous, implying that such a focus is both irrational and unjust.
Celsus’ disdain for Christianity’s inclusivity reflects his broader critique of its subversive nature. By challenging traditional hierarchies and welcoming those considered outcasts, Christianity posed a direct threat to the Greco-Roman ideals of social and moral order that Celsus held dear.
And so they invite into membership those who by their own account are sinners: the dishonest, thieves, burglars, poisoners, blasphemers of all descriptions, grave robbers. I mean—what other cult actually invites robbers to become members! Their excuse for all of it is that their god was sent to call sinners: well, fair enough. But what about the righteous? How do they account for the fact that their appeal is to the lowest sort of person? Why was their Christ not sent to those who had not sinned? Is it any disgrace not to have sinned? Are they saying that a god who will receive an unrighteous man who repents of his unrighteousness, provided he humbles himself, will not receive a righteous man, even if he has remained steadfast in his righteousness and honored God from the beginning of his days? p.74
God Does Not Change or Do Shameful Things
Celsus critiques the Christian doctrine of the Incarnation as both illogical and impious. He writes, “Either God really does change as they suggest into a human being… or else he deceives them, and tells lies—which it is not the nature of a god to do.” He asserts that the very idea of God becoming human contradicts the philosophical axiom of divine immutability.
For Celsus, the notion of a suffering, dying God was an affront to reason and the dignity of the divine. His argument reflects a broader philosophical tradition that emphasized the perfection and transcendence of God, qualities he believed Christianity had compromised in its anthropomorphic portrayal of the divine.
This means that God is changeless. A god who comes down to men undergoes change—a change from good to bad; from beautiful to shameful; from happiness to misfortune; from what is perfect to what is wicked. p.77
To be blunt: Either God really does change as they suggest into a human being (and this, as noted, is an impossibility), or else he does not change, but rather makes them who see him think that he is only mortal, and so deceives them, and tells lies-which it is not the nature of a god to do. p.78
But the fact is, God cannot do what is shameful; and God does not do what is contrary to nature. If, in your evildoing, you were to ask God to do something terrible, God could not do it-and hence you ought not believe, as so many of them do, that every base desire is to be fulfilled for the asking. p. 86
Do such claims do justice to the idea of God, since it is an axiom that what God does is good and that God does no act that is unworthy of his nature? This entails that what is disgraceful, mean, and unworthy should be disbelieved about God, no matter how many babbling fools say it was postulated of him. (For who are we to believe—a rabble of mistaken prophets, or the philosophers?) It is mere impiousness, therefore, to suggest that the things that were done to Jesus were done to God. Certain things are simply as a matter of logic impossible to God, namely those things which violate the consistency of his nature: God cannot do less than what it befits God to do, what it is God’s nature to do. Even if the prophets had foretold such things about the Son of God, it would be necessary to say, according to the axiom I have cited, that the prophets were wrong, rather than to believe that God has suffered and died. p.108
Customs Dictate Values
Celsus provides a vivid example of cultural relativism with his story about Darius, the Greeks, and the Indian Calatians. He writes, “Such is the power of custom and law; as Pindar says, ‘Custom is the king of all.’” This anecdote highlights the extent to which societal norms shape moral and religious values, a point Celsus uses to critique Christianity’s claim to universal truth.
By emphasizing the diversity of cultural practices, Celsus challenges the Christian assertion that its teachings represent a universal moral code. Instead, he frames Christianity as an outlier, out of step with the broader traditions that had governed human societies for centuries. For Celsus, the imposition of Christian values on a diverse and pluralistic world was both arrogant and destructive.
This argument underscores Celsus’ broader defense of Greco-Roman traditions as a more harmonious and time-tested framework for human flourishing. He views Christianity’s rejection of established customs not as progress, but as a dangerous affront to the cultural and religious systems that had sustained civilization.
Darius called the Greeks who were with him and asked how much money it would take for them to eat their dead fathers; they answered that they would not do such a thing at any price. He then called those called Calatians (Indians) who do feed on their fathers, and asked them (in the presence of the Greeks and through an interpreter) how much he would have to pay them to cremate their dead fathers rather than eat them. But they shouted aloud in a fury at the very suggestion, until he commanded them to keep silence. Such is the power of custom and law; as Pindar says, “Custom is the king of all.“ p.88-89
Jesus Plagiarized From Plato
Celsus sharply critiques the originality of Jesus’ teachings, accusing Christianity of borrowing heavily from earlier philosophical traditions. He points to a striking similarity between Jesus’ teaching on wealth—“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God”—and Plato’s assertion in the Republic that “It is impossible for an exceptionally good man to be exceptionally rich.” Celsus asserts that Plato expressed this idea more eloquently and profoundly, framing Jesus’ words as an inferior echo of timeless philosophical wisdom.
Further, Celsus draws a parallel between Jesus’ injunction to turn the other cheek and Socrates’ reasoning in Plato’s Crito: “It is never right to do wrong and never right to take revenge; nor is it right to give evil for evil.” He argues that this ethic of non-retaliation was neither novel nor uniquely Christian but was articulated centuries earlier by Plato and with greater clarity.
By highlighting these parallels, Celsus seeks to diminish Christianity’s claim to originality and divine revelation. For him, the Christian ethos is a repackaging of philosophical truths, stripped of their intellectual rigor and burdened with contradictions. This critique underscores his broader argument that Christianity, rather than offering anything new, is an inferior derivative of existing traditions, diluted for mass appeal.
For example, we are told that Jesus judged the rich with the saying “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God.” Yet we know that Plato expressed this very idea in a purer form when he said, “It is impossible for an exceptionally good man to be exceptionally rich.” p.94
You Christians have a saying that goes something like this: “Don’t resist a man who insults you; even if he strikes you, offer him your other cheek as well.” This is nothing new, and it’s been better said by others, especially by Plato, who ascribes the following to Socrates in the Crito:
“Then we should never do wrong?”
“Never.”
“And should we not even try to avenge a wrong if we are wronged ourselves, as most would do, on the premise that we should never do wrong?”
“So it seems.”
“So, should we do harm, Crito, or not?”
“I should say not, Socrates.”
“Well, then, is it just or unjust to repay injury with injury?” “Unjust, I would think.”
“Because doing harm to men is no different from doing wrong?”
“Exactly so.”
“So we should never take revenge and never hurt anyone even if we have been hurt.I91
Thus writes Plato, and he continues:
“Be careful to see whether you agree with me and it is acceptable to you, and then let’s reason together on the assumption that it is never right to do wrong and never right to take revenge; nor is it right to give evil for evil, or in the case of one who has suffered some injury, to attempt to get even. Do you agree with my premises or not? It seems to me the truth of what I say is evident, and seems as valid today as it did yesterday.” p.113
Christians Disrespect Society By Disrespecting God’s System
Celsus accuses Christians of undermining the social fabric by refusing to honor the gods and participate in public rituals that sustain the empire. He writes, “They ought to pray to the beings who have made life possible for them… It is at best ungrateful to use someone’s flat and pay them no rent, as Christians do the earth.” This metaphor captures his view of Christians as ungrateful tenants, benefiting from the order maintained by the gods and the state without offering due reverence or sacrifice in return.
For Celsus, the refusal to honor the gods is not merely a religious aberration but a civic failure. He sees worship of the gods as integral to the functioning of society, arguing that “to love the emperor and to serve God are complementary duties.” By rejecting these responsibilities, Christians invite chaos and threaten the stability of the state.
Celsus also critiques Christians for their refusal to swear allegiance to the emperor or participate in traditional civic duties. He writes, “If everyone were to adopt the Christian’s attitude, there would be no rule of law: the legitimate authority would be abandoned; earthly things would return to chaos.” For Celsus, Christianity’s exclusivist theology and rejection of the gods represent a form of social subversion that, if unchecked, would lead to anarchy.
This critique reflects a broader cultural tension between the universalizing claims of Christianity and the pluralistic, hierarchical worldview of the Greco-Roman world. Celsus defends the polytheistic system as a harmonious order that integrates divine, civic, and natural realms, contrasting it with the disruptive and isolationist tendencies he perceives in Christianity. His argument underscores the profound challenge Christianity posed to the religious and social systems of its time, offering a rare insight into the anxieties of those who saw their world on the brink of transformation.
If they are going to marry, have children and have a good time of it, taking the bad with the good as all men must,210 then they ought to pray to the beings who have made life possible for them. They should offer the appropriate sacrifices and say the proper prayers until such time as they are free of their earthly entanglements, and ingratiate themselves to the beings who control all spheres of human activity. It is at best ungrateful to use someone’s flat and pay them no rent (as Christians do the earth). p.122
So long as God is the subject of our thoughts, the little devotions we perform on behalf of the powers of this world—not the demons only but the rulers and princes who hold power at the gods’ design- are surely nothing horrible. Indeed, it is only insanity for the Christians to refuse their religious duties, rushing headlong to offend the emperor and the governors and to invite their wrath. To love the emperor and to serve God are complementary duties: if one worships God, he will not be influenced by those who command him to utter blasphemies or to whisper seditious things about the authorities. One would rather die than say or think anything profane about God: one remains firm. But on this logic, is not the Christian rejection of the gods blasphemy even against the God they profess to worship? For if we are commanded to worship the great god Helios or to speak well of Athena, we are in so doing worshiping God as well; so in singing a hymn to Mithra or to Athena, the Christians would at least not seem to be atheists,2I4 but would be seen as believers in the great God. The worship of God is only magnified in the worship of the gods. So too: If someone says to a Christian, “Here, I command you swear by the emperor,” that is nothing to be feared. You are swearing by the man to whom all earthly power has been given: what you receive in life, you receive from him. (And that is what it means to be a god.) It is not wise to disbelieve the ancient sage who said “Let there be one king: one to whom the crafty Kronos gave the power.”215 Overturn this axiom and you will know how swiftly punishment can be dealt! If everyone were to adopt the Christian’s attitude, moreover, there would be no rule of law: the legitimate authority would be abandoned; earthly things would return to chaos and come into the hands of the lawless and savage barbarians; and nothing further would be heard of Christian worship or of wisdom, anywhere in the world. p.124
We are citizens of a particular empire with a particular set of laws, and it behooves the Christians at least to recognize their duties within the present context: namely, to help the emperor in his mission to provide for the common good; to cooperate with him in what is right and to fight for him if it becomes necessary, as though we were all soldiers or fellow generals. This is what a good man does: he accepts public office for the preservation of the law and of religion, if it becomes necessary for him to do so; he does not run from public duty. He does not defile the appointed laws, on the [premise that if everyone did so, it would not be possible for the law to function at all]. So much for the doctrines of the Christians. It remains for me now to compose another treatise, for the profit of those willing and able to believe what I have said here, and to teach them how to lead a good life. p.125-126
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